#and they're completely unwilling to do anything to help me with that.
Note
#26 for the Cassian thing where reader is an IC member too and maybe them and Cassian have been seeing each other in secret for a while but Cass doesn't wanna tell anyone yet because he doesn't wanna mess up the dynamic or make things awkward for the rest of them but then all the stuff happens and Nesta comes along and reader's just sad and pissed because they're worried Cass is in love with Nesta now and secret plot twist oh no reader knows them and Cass are mates but it hasn't snapped for him yet so reader is losing it inside but obviously they can't tell any of their closest friends because Cassian still wants it to be a secret
even if you don't want to write this I hope you're having a great day/night ✩
Forever Tied - Cassian x Reader
Hello hello 🥰
The original prompt list I reblogged has disappeared for some reason so now I have no idea what #26 actually was but I did my best with the request you sent me so hopefully this still works, sorry Anon! I've made it extra long to make up for it!
Hope you enjoy!
Word Count: 9.3k
Rhys was trapped Under the Mountain and there was nothing you could do to help. You had crumbled upon hearing his voice in your mind that last time, having no idea what this meant for your friend, your court, or even for Prythian. You hadn’t even realised you had fallen to your knees until a familiar, warm body had knelt next to you and pulled you into their shaking arms.
Cassian had been in the city centre of Velaris when he had heard, all plans for the day disappearing as the realisation of what had happened hit him full blast. Without thinking, he flew back to the House of Wind, unable and unwilling to process this alone. Although, subconsciously, there was really only one person he wanted to be with in that moment. Azriel would have distanced himself upon hearing the news, Amren was at her apartment, and Mor was at the town house, leaving only you in the House of Wind.
He stumbled in his rush as he landed on the balcony and raced inside. His heart broke even further at the sounds of muffled sobs that echoed towards him. In a blind haze he followed the sounds and found you on the ground, as though your legs had completely given out, unable to bare the weight of what had occurred. Without thinking, Cassian was beside you, pulling you into his arms as he rubbed soothing circles across your back, despite the way his own hands shook as tears threatened to burn at his eyes.
Your breathing eventually evened out, the only trace of your tears were the tracks along your cheeks and the redness of your eyes. Turning in his arms, you looked up at Cassian as though only just properly noticing that he was the comforting, warm presence that brought you back from your distressed state.
“We have to do something,” Your voice was a croaked whisper, “I know he said he put up a shield, but there has to be something we can do to help.”
The shaky inhale of Cassian’s breath told you enough. He didn’t think there was anything that could be done. Truthfully, you didn’t either.
You looked at your friend in awe as a singular tear streaked down his face, followed by another, and another. In all the centuries you had been friends, the sight of the male in front of you crying was one you had very rarely witnessed.
“Cass,” You lifted a hand to his face, gently brushing away his tears. Cassian was always the one who held everyone and everything together, and if this was the one time he openly showed he needed someone else to keep from falling apart, you would more than willingly be that person for him. “It’s going to be okay, alright? We’ll figure something out. And Rhys… well, it’s Rhys. He’s going to be just fine.”
The watery smile you gave him didn’t quite meet your eyes, the expression quickly replaced with alarm as Cassian’s breathing quickened, eyes screwed shut as though trying to compose himself. This you had never seen. Cassian completely losing control, his body shaking against yours as sobs escaped his throat.
“He’s gone,” The strangled sound that came from him had your heart splitting in two. “Amarantha, she will…she’s already…” He couldn’t seem to find the words, or couldn’t bear the thought of saying what was running through his head with Amarantha being involved.
“We’ll get him back.” You soothed, hands reaching up as you guided his head into the crook of your neck, fingers running through his dark wave of hair.
But he wasn’t calming, if anything, Cassian found himself spiralling further and further out of control, the emotions and the ‘what ifs’ sending him into a state of panic where even your comforting presence could do nothing to sooth his hyperventilating breaths, the tears, and the shaking that racked through him.
“Cass?” You pulled back, trying to force him to look at you. “Cassian? Hey, I need you to open your eyes, just focus on me, okay? There you go. Now just take in one deep breathe, alright? Just one, that’s all I need you to do. Okay, and again. You’re alright. We’re alright.”
Cassian’s hazel eyes stared into yours as you talked him through his breathing, your hands soothingly moving up and down his arms as you knelt in front of him and offered a comforting smile as you watched his panic slowly ebb away.
“Y/N, I—" Cassian started, eyes wide as he gulped and continued staring at you. Before you could blink or react in anyway, he was surging forward; one hand coming up to rest at the back of your neck, the other was gently placed on your thigh, and then his lips were hurriedly pressed against yours. You stilled and tensed in his grasp, it was all too much after everything else that had happened, but still… Maybe a distraction is what you both needed. So instead of pulling away, you leant into him, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him even closer, and kissing him back with such an urgency that a moan sounded in the back of his throat.
“Y/N,” he muttered against your lips, forehead resting against your own, his breath brushing across your face as it came out in heavy pants.
You just shushed him, also refusing to move too far away. “I know, it’s fine. Just a distraction.”
He looked at you for one more blink and then hungrily pressed against you, this time lowering you to the floor, his muscled body hovering over yours as you lost yourselves in the moment, desperate to forget what had happened and all that was yet to transpire.
*****
Afterwards, you lay on the floor next to one another in the, now dark, room. The combination of your heavy breathes were the only sounds that broke through the silence.
Cassian let out a sigh followed by a chuckle, “Well that was one hell of a distraction.”
You turned your head to look at him and let out a quiet, breathless laugh. Yes, it had been a momentary distraction but now what had happened to Rhys, to Prythian, hung heavy in the room. Cassian turned on his side, leaning up on one arm as he faced you, taking in your still flushed, blissed out expression that now had something akin to pain creeping across it.
“Hey,” He gently grabbed your hand and soothed his thumb across the back of it. “Like you said, we’re alright. And we will get him back.”
You nodded at him then pulled yourself up, tugging your shirt back on before throwing Cassian his discarded clothes.
“Come on, we should find the others. Try to figure something out.”
*****
And that was that.
There was no mention of what had happened between the two of you. No comment on the fact that it had been, without a doubt, and despite the current situation you found yourselves in, the best sex either of you had ever had.
No, even when it happened again three weeks later, and then one week after that, and four days after that, again, and again, and again, it remained an unspoken agreement between the two of you. That momentary distraction where you could lose yourselves in the pleasure of one another and forget about the mess you were left to deal with.
That was how it worked for the next few years. You and Cassian falling into a routine of comfort that you were unable, unwilling, to get from anyone else. You had no idea if the rest of the Inner Circle were aware of what was going on; in terms of your friendship, nothing had changed, there were just additional benefits that came with it now. It didn’t mean anything more.
That is, of course, until your routine had morphed into something that felt like it was on the precipice of something else.
The sex was just as mind-blowingly passionate, however, there were now some instances where it was a bit slower and less frantic, more whispered words and lingering touches. Where the two of you used to chat afterwards, an arm’s worth of distance between you as you slipped back into your normal friendship until the other one left to return to their own room, you now found yourselves wrapped up in each other’s arms, hands softly caressing skin until you both drifted into a restful sleep.
Which is where you now found yourself; wrapped up in Cassian’s arms as he softly snored against you, hand tightly holding onto yours and legs tangled together. You eased out of his grasp, careful not to disturb him and lent against the headboard with a sigh. Usually, you would wake the next morning, offer a small smile, then get on with your day, Rhys’ absence still a clear focus for you all. However, lately you had found yourself letting your mind drift more and more, especially in moments like these where Cassian was still beside you and the bubble you lost yourselves in was yet to be broken.
Each and every time you hated yourself for it, guilt taking over until you forcefully pushed the thoughts away, but you couldn’t help but think that, at some point, you all needed to continue your lives and break away from the standstill existence you had been in since Amarantha took over.
You would never say it out loud, but as the years went on, you had lost all hope of ever getting Rhys back. And if that were the case, and as much as you wished it weren’t, at some point you had to start living for yourselves again. Deep down, in the dark and quiet moments when you awoke and the house was fast asleep, you knew exactly what you wanted that life to look like.
You let out another sigh and looked at Cassian, softly brushing some stray hair away from his face and taking the time to really study his sleep-softened features. You hadn’t meant for it to get this far, but after centuries of friendship, and now the years of intimacy you had shared, the love you felt for Cassian had grown and taken form into a whole different avenue of affection. You were in love with him. You loved him and your heart ached at the thought of it because if you allowed yourself this one bit of happiness into your life, the solidarity and support that Cassian provided, then you couldn’t help but think of it as forgetting about Rhys and the torture he had been enduring whilst you were slowly and deeply falling head over heels with one of your best friends.
The worst part of it was that you were certain Cassian felt the same way about you. The way he held you and touched you, the words he whispered into your ear as you were both tangled, panting messes and then the dazed murmurings that were uttered into the silence afterwards, the longing glances he would give you when the others weren’t looking…
What had started as a desperate distraction and pure, physical need had grown into something so much more meaningful and intimate. And yet you both refused to acknowledge that it was anything other than sex as a means to cope with the instability in your lives.
“Hey,” You hadn’t realised Cassian had stirred, his gruff, sleep-filled voice tearing you away from your thoughts.
“Y/N?” Your expression pulled in confusion at the sudden worry in his voice as he sat up and grasped your hand. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”
It wasn’t until his fingers were reaching up to brush away the tears on your cheeks that you realised you had been silently crying.
“I… I don’t know.” You said with a slight sniffle.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Cassian pulled you into his lap, your head resting on his chest as he pressed kisses to the top of your head and rubbed soothing patterns across your back. The unfairness of the situation had you stifling a small sob, Cassian’s embrace reminding you of exactly what you were missing.
“Want to talk about it?” He murmured into your hair, followed by another kiss.
Whether it was the build-up of emotions or your complete and utter exhaustion, you didn’t know and didn’t care. You sat up in Cassian’s arms, desperately looking for any form of confirmation that what you were about to say wouldn’t ruin everything, then took a deep breath.
“This…whatever this is between us, I can’t keep doing it. Not how it is now,” You were too caught up to notice the heartbroken expression that flashed across his face.
Cassian had willingly fallen into this arrangement and would happily continue to do so if it meant he could pretend, even for just a few hours a day, that you were his, and he was yours. There had always been a part of him that had been completely and utterly in love with you. And then when he found out Rhys had been trapped by Amarantha, his emotions had been a surging mess, so he acted on instinct and a selfish need for the upmost form of comfort and risked it all by kissing you. Now the thought that this one bit of joy he allowed himself was being ripped away, another thing he would be losing, sent his heart racing as he waited for the final blow of your words.
“It hurts too much.” You continued, looking down at your intertwined hands before pulling away.
Cassian looked up at you in confusion, “What hurts too much?”
“This. Us,” A shaky laugh escaped you as you gestured to the empty space between you, throwing all caution to the wind as you said, “I can’t keep pretending that this isn’t anything more than a distraction. Not when I have fallen so deeply in love with you that the thought of never…”
You were cut off by Cassian all but picking you up and kissing you with such passion that you couldn’t stop your toes from curling or the small whimper that escaped your throat.
“You love me?” His voice was breathless and gravelly, barely above a whisper. You opened your eyes, his forehead rested against yours, eyes squeezed shut as though trying to hold onto the moment.
“Yes.”
A joyful laugh sounded from him and reverberated through you as his lips found yours again, tongue trailing along your bottom lip before you parted them for him.
Your mind was racing yet you couldn’t form a coherent thought, pulling away in a desperate attempt to catch your breath.
“Good.”
“Cass?”
“Good. Because I have loved you since we first met and I can’t lose you, not now.”
You grinned at him before pulling his face down to meet yours and slamming your lips to his. You had thought that maybe, just maybe, he had been starting to feel something that was more than friendship too. But the idea of him loving you for that long made your heart skip a beat and had butterflies fluttering up a storm in your stomach.
“I feel horrible,” You admitted, quick to clarify at the affronted look Cassian gave you. “It just feels wrong, like we’re betraying Rhys. We don’t…we don’t even know if he is alive, Cass. I want this, with you, more than anything. But it doesn’t feel right while everything is so…” You trailed off, unable to meet his gaze as Cassian watched you with a look of contemplation.
“So we don’t say anything. We can keep it between us, at least for now. We’ve gotten this far without the others asking questions. I love you, so much, and as much as I want everyone to know, I get what you mean. So we don’t say anything until we get him back. And we will get him back, I know we will. Alright?" You nodded; eyes wide as you grasped his calloused hands in yours.
“Besides, I basically sleep here every night anyway. Nothing will really change between us, just that I can now tell you and show you that I love you, instead of having to force the words down every time you so much as look at me.” A blush spread across your cheeks at his words and the wink that followed, but you didn’t care to hide it, instead simply giving him a dazzling smile that sent his heart racing.
He pulled you in for another kiss, murmuring “I love you” as he guided you back down onto the mattress.
“I love you too—" But a loud yawn escaped your mouth, cutting off the rest of your words and sending you into a small fit of giggles.
“Alright, we’ll continue this tomorrow,” Cassian now laughed with you. “Come on, it’s late. Get some sleep.”
You wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling your face into his chest, the comforting and familiar scent had you drifting off in a matter of minutes.
*****
Cassian had been right, not a lot in your dynamic had changed over the years after that night, other than the giddying comfort of knowing that he was yours, and you were his. You weren’t foolish enough to think that the others hadn’t picked up on the slight shift, especially when Cassian had waltzed out of your room one morning only to come face to face with Azriel. You just assumed that they thought you were sleeping together, nothing more.
Then when Rhys returned, you had been, obviously, overjoyed. Not wanting to bombard him with too much on his first night back, you and Cassian had decided later that night once you were back in your room, to hold off on saying anything about your relationship until Rhys had settled back in.
Then everything else had happened.
The arrival of Feyre and her sisters. Hybern and the cauldron. The war and near fatal injuries spread throughout your tight-knit group. It was all too much.
You and Cassian had been discussing back and forth for months: do you tell them or keep hiding it. Ultimately, keeping your relationship secret is what you always landed on. Honestly, you weren’t sure if you were just finding excuses at this point to keep yourselves in your happy little bubble when so much threated to burst it.
Initially, you hadn’t wanted to rub your relationship in Rhys’ face when he was so clearly pining after Feyre who wanted nothing to do with him. Then their mating bond clicked, and you didn’t want to take away or overshadow their happiness with your own. The threat from Hybern felt like you would be playing with fire; if the King of Hybern found out… it was too great a risk when your enemies could use it against you.
Between it all, you still found time to be together; not once did the love you felt for one another falter. But with each excuse, and with each passing month, the decision wore on you more and more.
And then Rhys asked Cassian to take on Nesta.
You felt for her, you really did, but the time and energy Cassian put into helping her had a pit forming in your stomach. At the end of each day, when you were tucked tightly into his chest and his sweet nothings were whispered across your bare skin, you felt silly for ever thinking that he was losing interest in you. Yet, that feeling lingered just that little bit longer with each passing day and with each moment spent away from him when he was, instead, occupied with her.
*****
You had been away in the Summer Court the night that Nesta had hallucinated about being back in the cauldron. After you finished reporting to Rhys upon your return the following night, he had told you what had happened with her silver flames and how Cassian had managed to bring her out of it. With worry for all of them, you got back to the House of Wind as soon as you could but couldn’t find Cassian, Azriel, or Nesta anywhere. It wasn’t until later when you were getting ready for bed that there was a knock on your bedroom door. What you didn’t expect was to find Cassian on the other side of it, you weren’t sure why he suddenly decided to start knocking on the door to the room you had shared for the past 50 years.
With a quizzical look you pulled him inside the room and lent up on your toes to press a soft kiss to his lips that had him instantly wrapping his arms around your frame to pull you in tighter against him.
“I missed you,” he murmured against your skin, trailing lingering kisses down your neck that had a soft moan escaping you.
“I missed you. Rhys told me what happened here, are you alright? Is Nesta?”
Cassian pulled back, pressing another kiss to your lips then the tip of your nose before grabbing your hands and leading you to the couch by the fireplace.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” You remained silent, your doubt erupting in you as you waited for him to continue with bated breath. “We moved her to a closer room, next door to our, your, room, so that if something like that happens again one of us will know straight away.”
Cassian pulled back slightly, studying your features as though waiting for a reaction. You expression remained impassive; you could feel the other shoe about to drop and wanted him to tell you without beating around the bush.
“But,” He sighed, lifting your hand up and pressing a kiss to it, “I think, just for now, at least until things calm down a bit, I should go back to sleeping in my old room.”
“No.”
“Y/N – “
“No, Cassian,” You were shaking your head at him, not caring if you sounded needy or whiny or any of it. “This is the only time we can just be us. It’s already hard enough with keeping it a secret from everyone, I can’t lose this.”
“We decided, together, to keep this between us, there’s too much going on. And I don’t think Nesta will appreciate hearing us through the walls…” You cut him off with a scoff.
“Are you fucking serious, Cass? Are you worried about everyone finding out, or are you worried about Nesta finding out?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I never get to see you because you’re always with her. And now, because of her again, everything that our relationship is needs to go on hold? It’s not fair that after 50 years all I get is a few hours at the end of the day and to be kept your secret from everyone we care about.” You spat the word, all your emotions and fears finally bubbling over, however irrational they may be, but you had had enough.
“Sweetheart, we agreed that it’s for the best that we keep this between ourselves – “
“Well, I don’t agree anymore, Cass. I don’t want it like this. And don’t condescend me.” Your voice had a sharp snap to it. You needed something. Needed something other than the heartbreak that you could feel fast approaching; and a fight sounded like the next best thing.
“I’m not being condescending,” You could sense Cassian’s temper rising. “You can’t suddenly be angry because you’ve changed your mind without saying anything to me. And Nesta has nothing to do with this, it’s for...”
But the rest of his words became a blur at the sudden, incessant tug that pulled at your chest; that pulled you towards the male in front of you.
He was your mate.
Cassian was your mate.
You couldn’t do this, not now when you were in the middle of a fight. Not when Cassian didn’t even seem to be aware – or seem to care, a small voice taunted – of what had just happened. You needed to get away from him, to calm down and think before it could get even more out of hand.
“Cassian, just… Whatever, it’s fine. I’m tired, so just go back to your room, okay? We’ll figure the rest out later. I’m just…tired.” You finished lamely, voice cracking slightly as you watched him look you over, his frustration still evident, before walking out and loudly shutting the door behind him.
You slumped down, holding your knees to your chest as the sobs began. You had thought, had hoped, that Cassian was your mate. But this wasn’t how it was meant to go. Not mid-fight, with him having no idea of the bond’s existence while telling you he no longer wants to share your bed.
Having been so caught up in your thoughts and the overflooding emotions, you missed the flickering of shadows that darted around you. Moments later there was another knock on your door. Wiping your eyes, you called out in a chocked voice, “come in,” assuming it was Cassian.
Instead, Azriel quickly opened the door, closing it just as fast, before taking in the sight before him and making his way over to you.
“Y/N?” You could only sniffle in response, gratefully leaning against his side when his arm wrapped around you. “You alright?”
You remained silent for a few minutes, focusing on Azriel’s comforting hand brushing up and down your arm as you worked to control your breathing and halt your tears.
“I’m fine.” Your voice was hoarse and not at all convincing.
“Want to try that again?” You sent your elbow into his ribs, making the Shadowsinger chuckle before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.
With a sigh he asked, “This has nothing to do with the fact that Cassian is suddenly sleeping in his room for the first time in, what? 50 years?”
You gaped up at your friend in shock and at a loss for words.
“You knew?
“Of course I knew. I live here too, remember? As subtle as you might think you’re being, I’ve got these,” His shadows danced around, reminding you that it was stupid to even entertain the idea that Azriel wouldn’t know.
“Oh,” A fresh set of tears filled your eyes and you stared intently into the flickering fire.
“Can you please take me to the town house? I don’t… I can’t be here.” Despite the late hour, you knew he would do anything for you in a heartbeat. While you and Cassian had been friends for decades before anything more had happened, you and Az had been close from the start, instant friends as soon as you had met.
“Of course.”
He waited for you by your bedroom door as you pulled together a small bag of your belongings, not knowing when you would be back.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
You didn’t turn to give the room that held so many memories a final glance as you shut the door behind you and followed Azriel out onto the balcony.
*****
Thankfully, the town house was dark and empty when you arrived, giving you the space and silence to process your thoughts and feelings. You had thanked Azriel for flying you over and had said a quick goodnight before you walked inside and headed upstairs.
Sitting on your bed, you vacantly stared at the wall, lost in thought as the minutes ticked by. You jumped at the sudden dip of the mattress beside you, only to find Azriel sitting there fixing you with a look of concern, a steaming cup of tea extended towards you.
“Thanks,” You murmured, taking a sip and revelling in the slight burn as the liquid went down your throat. “I thought you went home.”
“Not yet. Didn’t want to leave you alone like this.” There was a beat of silence before, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,”
You let out a weary sigh, content on sitting in silence but your thoughts quickly became too much, and you found yourself blurting out, “He’s my mate.”
Azriel whipped around to face you, shock coating his features.
“What? They didn���t tell you?” You gestured to the shadows that skittered around him with a sad smile.
“For how long? I thought you were just sleeping together.” He trailed off, giving you an uncharacteristically sheepish expression as you let out a somewhat bitter laugh.
“It started that way, when Rhys…left,” You whispered, revelling in finally telling someone even though it may well be over. “It was a distraction from the shit show that was going on, but then it just kept happening.” Azriel remained silent, letting you talk.
“A few years in, I realised I had fallen in love with him,” you voice cracked but you kept going, “Then he told me he loved me too. Said he had for a while.”
Azriel chuckled lightly, “That’s an understatement. He was infatuated with you from the moment you met. I knew something was going on or something had at least happened when he suddenly stopped talking to me about you whenever you weren’t there.”
Tears rolled down your cheeks at his words, but with a look and a comforting squeeze of his hand, you let out a shuddering breath and continued, “That was five years into Rhys being gone, and we’ve been together ever since.”
“Five years into… But Y/N, how? That means for over 45 years, the two of you have been…” You sniffed as he put the math together and watched as his eyes widened at the realisation. “How come you never told us?”
“We felt guilty that we found some type of happiness together when Rhys was trapped – “
“He wouldn’t have cared. He would have been happy for you; for both of you” Azriel interjected.
“I know,” You smiled sadly, “But it just didn’t feel right. And then he got back, and everything with Feyre and Hybern happened – it was never the right time.”
You could tell he was still confused, hurt even, about the two of you keeping your relationship private for so long, but he didn’t push you.
“I don’t know how I missed it.” He said, seemingly to himself.
“You only half missed it,” You joked, nudging his arm to try to ease the tension in the room. “We tried to act the same, things were just different when we were alone.”
“When did you realise you were mates?” You inhaled sharply, your earlier fight rushing back to you.
“Tonight. We were arguing and I just felt this tug and knew. He doesn’t know – at least I don’t think he knows.” You voiced your doubts, the weight of them getting the better of you.
“If he knew, he would refuse to leave your side. It just hasn’t snapped into place for him yet.” You gave your friend an appreciative smile and lent your head on his shoulder.
“I’m so tired.”
“Go to sleep. I’ll come back in the morning to check on you. You’re alright here?”
“Thanks Az.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before leaving the room; leaving you alone to finally mull over the fight, your emotions, and the fact that Cassian was your mate.
*****
“What’s up with you?” Mor plopped into the seat beside you, handing you a glass of wine that you gratefully took.
“Nothing,” You quickly murmured as the others traipsed into the dining room. You were aware of Cassian edging towards you and held in a sigh of relief when Azriel suddenly appeared in the seat on your other side.
It had been a week since you left the House of Wind to stay at the town house. A week since your fight with Cassian when you realised exactly what he was to you. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eye. Despite his best efforts to get you alone over the past few days, you conveniently managed to slip away every time. Tonight’s family dinner was the closest you had been to him all week, the realisation only making your longing for him even more dire – especially now that you were aware of that insistent tug that pulled you towards him.
Dinner was no different to how it usually went, except for the fact that you hardly said a word, opting to keep your eyes focused on the food in front of you. You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice that Cassian also didn’t utter a single word throughout the meal, the only difference between you both was that his eyes were fixed on you, not his plate.
You jumped up as soon as everyone had finished eating, wanting to help clear the plates so you could get out and go home as soon as possible, not wanting to prolong the night for any longer than it needed to be. Too bad for you, Cassian was acutely attuned to your movements and jumped out of his seat seconds after to help in a desperate attempt to have at least one moment to talk to you.
Filling the sink with hot, soapy water, you sensed, rather than saw, Cassian follow you into the kitchen, body tensing up as he silently walked to your side. You worked in silence, scrapping dishes, washing plates, drying, and putting away. Cassian’s eyes were fixed on you, brows furrowing further with every passing moment you continued to ignore him.
“Y/N,” His voice was quiet, unsure. So different to his usual tone that it had you involuntarily turning to face him. Your heart stammered in your chest, the longing and hurt and confusion that had been tearing you apart in your time away from him threatened to burst as you finally met his hazel stare. “Are you… Are we okay? You just left and I had to find out from Az that you’re staying at the town house and now you can barely even look at me.”
His words came out hurried, frantic, as though if he spoke any slower you would disappear. Guilt flooded you at the hurt you found in his eyes, but your anger was still very much present, the lingering fear of him choosing Nesta over you held too strong for you to succumb to those feelings of guilt.
“I just need some time.” Voice barely above a whisper, you inwardly cursed as your vision blurred over with tears.
“Time for what? Y/N I don’t know what’s going on–”
“You both okay?”
Neither you nor Cassian heard Azriel approach, both turning to gape at your friend who hesitantly stood in the doorway.
“Fine. Just fine.” You pushed past him on your way out, not giving Cassian a second glance as you entered the spacious loungeroom to say goodnight to everyone. A few moments later the pair walked in after you, you missed the loaded glances they shared, not privy to the hurried conversation they had after you left the kitchen where Cassian had all but begged Azriel to intervene, to allow him the chance to finally talk to you.
“Hey, Y/N?” You turned to look expectantly at Azriel. “Did you still need me to fly you up to the House of Wind for that book?”
“Oh. Yeah, if that’s alright?” In your rush to get away the night you left you had forgotten to pack the next book you had been planning to read.
“Does tonight work? If you’re just about to head off…”
“Sure, I was just going to go…home.” Your voice trailed at the end, willing the blush away as you kept your head held high. You felt as though you didn’t know what home was anymore.
“Great, Cassian was just about to leave as well. He’ll take you up there.” With a clap to Cassian’s shoulder, Azriel sauntered over to where Rhys and Amren were talking, brushing off their questioning glances as he pointedly ignored you, allowing no room for dispute.
“Oh…”
“Is that alright?” You tensed at Cassian’s voice, glancing over your shoulder to find his wary eyes on you. It wasn’t like you could say no, it was not alright, without making a scene. You would be having words with Azriel the next time you saw him; judging by the slight smirk he was wearing, he seemed to assume just as much.
“Erm, yes. If that’s okay?” Cassian simply nodded before gesturing to the front door and, after another quick goodbye to everyone, you found yourselves outside. Another fumbled moment, then you were held tightly in Cassian’s arms with the rush of the crisp night air and an uncomfortable silence engulfing you both as he flew you towards the House of Wind.
You couldn’t stand the awkwardness. It had never been like this between the two of you and you hated that this is what it had come to. The relationship you shared, whether that be friendship or more, it had always come so naturally. Now you were faced with a stilted, tense atmosphere, not quite knowing what to say or where you stood. Then there had been the fight. Sure, you had argued before, after decades of knowing each other, you were bound to come into some disagreements along the way. But you had never had a fight like this, where you had both been so riled up, fuming at the other to the point where you had both stormed away and then not spoken for days. You hated it.
So caught up in your thoughts, you missed the slight detour Cassian was taking you on, only noticing once you were placed back on your feet and found yourself in the middle of the training ring, rather than the usual balcony that led into the house itself.
“What…”
“We’re hashing this out. Right now.”
“You want to…fight?”
“What?” Cassian did a double take, as if just connecting the location with why you would think that. “No, I don’t want to fight. That’s the problem, we are fighting. This just seemed like the most private place to work things out.”
You eyed him hesitantly, not knowing what you wanted your next step to be, especially when the urge to wrap your arms around him and inhale the scent that was so him, the scent that had become home, was so strong.
“So, words or swords?” Your eyes snapped to Cassian as he fiddled with the one of the discarded swords you usually sparred with.
Words
You wanted words. To talk this all out and be done with it, whichever way that turned out to be. But then an image flashed across your mind; an image of Cassian standing up here with Nesta, hands guiding her into the correct form, fingers shifting along her own to straighten her hold on the blade…
Without a single word, you walked to where Cassian was and hauled your own blade up.
“Okay then.” There was a slight smirk on Cassian’s face as he followed behind you into the centre of the training ring. The quirk of his eyebrow was all you needed before you were moving towards him, swords meeting with a clash that pierced the night.
You didn’t think about the moves you were making, giving way to centuries of refined and well-practiced instinct. Cassian was stronger, you knew he would hold out for longer, but you were well matched for now. Both of your foreheads started to sheen in sweat, pants of exertion echoed alongside the clank and clash of swords, and as you moved around and against one another, you finally let out all of your pent-up emotions until you had nothing left.
“I can’t…I can’t do this anymore.” You gasped before dropping the sword and falling to your knees, tears streamed down your face at the sudden emotional outlet. Cassian was by your side in an instant, his sword dropped to the ground in a ricochetting crash.
“Y/N,” His voice was alert, on-edge, eyes dancing over you as he tried to work out what was wrong. “Are you hurt?” The frantic tone now had sobs racking from your chest, shaking your head you surged forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as you cried and cried and cried. Without a second thought, Cassian had his arms around you, pulling you into his lap as he softly caressed your back and whispered soothing words into your ear.
He stayed silent, giving you the time and space to calm down and filter through your thoughts. Not once rushing you or demanding answers after a week of uncertainty.
“I’m sorry, Cass. I’m so fucking sorry, for everything. I just…” At least you managed to get a few words out before you were overcome with tears once again. You weren’t sure what they were for at this point with so many thoughts and scenarios racing through your head: the fight, Cassian being your mate, Cassian getting close with Nesta, Cassian leaving you, Cassian leaving you for Nesta, and then you being forced to watch them be together, knowing you couldn’t stand the thought of him not being in your life, in whatever capacity you were granted.
“Shhh,” He soothed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he softly rocked you back and forth. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
With a deep breath, you nodded against his chest in an attempt to compose yourself. Noting in the position you were in, you could have laughed if you weren’t feeling so empty and deflated; this is how you had both gotten into this in the first place, all those years ago when you thought you would never see Rhys again – both of you with your arms around each other, crying and saying everything was going to be okay. Only this time, you weren’t so sure if the strength of your relationship would hold.
“Please, talk to me, Y/N. What’s going through that head of yours.”
You couldn’t take not knowing what was going to happen any longer. So with a final sniffle, you leant back, sitting on the ground beside him and pulling your knees up to your chest as you held your arms tightly around yourself.
“I don’t know where to start…”
“What about when you decided you wanted the others to know?” There was no malice in his voice, only gentle concern that prodded you to continue.
“I’ve always wanted the others to know,” You ignored Cassian’s slight indignation, “But it was never the right time, what with everything that was happening then, and everything that’s happened since. It felt like the right decision at the time, it felt safe. It was nice knowing that this was just for us when so much was going wrong. But I want to be with you outside of our room. I want to be able to hold your hand and walk through Velaris, kiss you in front of our friends, not pretend that you don’t mean the world to me, because you do Cassian.”
He remained quiet, letting you talk and giving you the space to get everything off your chest but the lingering presence of his hand drawing soothing circles across your back had you feeling grounded. “I love you and the thought of losing you has been tearing me apart.” You winced at the tremor in your voice, gaze fixed on the ground in front of you.
You didn’t dare mention the fact that you were mates. Not yet. He deserved the chance to properly say what needed to be said, without the cauldron’s interference tying him down if he did, in fact, want to leave.
“Why do you think you’re losing me?” Cassian’s voice was quiet and contemplative, as though processing everything you had said but not quite connecting the dots. The kiss to the side of your head had you inhaling a shaky breath and you forced yourself to will away the tears that threatened to spill.
“We’ve been so distant lately; we never get to see each other. And, look, I know it’s for Rhys, but I’m away all the time, and you’re always with Nesta. Then the other night when you said you didn’t want to share our room anymore, and that you were afraid she would find out… I don’t know, I guess it all just became too much.” You could feel his eyes on you but the blush burning your cheeks had you refusing to meet his gaze.
A moment later, Cassian softly said, “I never said I didn’t want to share a room with you, believe me, I want to spend every moment I can with you–” You made a noise of protest, but Cassian gently shushed you before continuing. “But Rhys and Feyre need Nesta to be okay and he’s given that job to me. I should’ve spoken to you about it first or explained it better when I said I was going to sleep in my old room. But you saw what Nesta was like before we got her up here, I didn’t think her seeing, or hearing, us together would be all that helpful – especially when she was using sex as a way to cope with everything.”
“Oh…” You felt stupid. Stupid and selfish and completely undeserving of the amazing, considerate male beside you.
“And,” Cassan continued with a playful nudge of his shoulder, “You have no idea how much I want everyone to know about us. No idea how hard it has been to not tell everyone that this amazing, brilliant, strong, kind female is mine. And just how hard it has been seeing other males so much as look at you without being able to say anything to them.”
You still couldn’t tear your eyes from the ground in front of you, but Cassian noticed the soft smile tugging at your lips.
“Cauldron, if you want, I can fly us back to the River House right now. We can tell everyone exactly what’s been going on, you can kiss me in front of all of our friends then we can go into Velaris, I’ll even let you hold my hand as we walk around.” Another playful nudge had you softly chuckling, eyes finally darting over to look at Cassian. Your heart faltered at the expression on his face, the complete love and adoration that laced his features as he watched you, his own mouth pulling into a smile at the laugh he managed to pull from you.
“Yeah?” Your voice was still slightly hoarse from your previous tears, but it was a touch lighter. You felt lighter.
“Yeah.” Cassian stretched his legs out in front of him, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulled you closer to him, leaning back on the other.
Still, some doubt lingered. It couldn’t be this easy. Things were never this easy.
“So, you’re not going to leave me?” You couldn’t remember the last time you felt shy in front of him, and you hated yourself for asking, hated that he might think you weak, needy, pathetic – the words raced around, threatening to send you into a panic.
“Never,” That one word had you relaxing immediately. “You would have to force me to leave you, and even then… I’m not going aware, Sweetheart.”
You could have melted at his words. You swore you did as you leant against him, letting out a small sigh of relief, a breath you had been holding for days, weeks, months.
“Y/N?” His voice sent a shiver down your spine, the words whispered into your ear as his breath fanned across your skin. “Can I please kiss you now?”
You tilted your head up to face him, a small smile gracing your features as he slanted his lips over your own and you immediately felt as though you had returned home.
Pulling away all too quickly, your lips desperately chased his, only to receive a playful peck in response before Cassian was helping you to your feet.
“Come on,”
“Cass?” You laugh was laced with confusion, yet you followed him anyway, watching as he picked up the discarded sparring swords and placing them back alongside the others.
“What? We’ve got some news to share,” He stole another quick kiss as he laced your hands together.
“Now?”
“Yes now,” He mocked with a playful grin, “I don’t want to waste another moment, especially when it has you feeling as though–”
The abrupt stop to Cassian’s words had the smile slipping from your face as you took in his wide eyes and startled expression.
“Cassian, what’s wrong?”
“Y/N… You’re…” He let out a disbelieving laugh as he continued to stare at you, drinking in every feature, every miniscule detail and expression that crossed your face. Turning your head, you tried to look around for the cause of his sudden change in demeanour, only to be met with gentle, yet calloused, hands cupping your face, urging you to meet his gaze before his lips were pressed over yours again.
Despite the confusion, you gratefully accepted and leant into the kiss, relaxing as his arms draped around your waist and as you let your fingers travel up his neck before tangling into his hair. Cassian was breathing heavily when he pulled away, you could hear the pounding of his heart as he pressed his forehead against yours. His eyes remained tightly shut, the feel of his lashes fluttering across your skin sent your own heart fluttering in response.
Then he mumbled something incoherently; too quiet and smothered for you to even begin to comprehend.
“Hmm?” You asked, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth as you ran your fingers through his hair.
Another murmur had you pulling away, eyebrows furrowing as you took in his dumbfounded expression and the way his eyes were still tightly shut. But there was now a smile tugging at his lips.
“Cass?”
“Mate. You’re my mate.” His eyes snapped open, revealing complete, utter joy as he stared at you with wonder and bewilderment.
Oh. Right.
“And you’re my mate.” At least you didn’t have to keep this to yourself any longer.
Cassian tilted his head as he processed your reaction and the way your lips spread into a soft, loving smile.
“You knew. You already knew.” Although his voice was laced with exasperation, his face held nothing but love and giddy excitement, eyes bright as he met yours. You sent a wave of affirmation down the newly linked bond, watching with joy as Cassian’s eyes lit up even further at the sensation. You knew you were grinning just as stupidly back at him when you felt a tug of your own filled with nothing but love.
The two of you stood there grinning and staring at one another as though seeing the other in a new light. Then you were both moving, arms a flurry as they desperately wrapped around the other, lips meeting in a loving and passionate kiss that only intensified with each tug that raced down the bond, igniting the need for more, so much more.
A gentle tap from Cassian and you were quick to jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist as his arms held you tightly against him. Through the kisses and moans and soft sighs, somehow Cassian found himself moving, walking the two of you to the door that would lead you inside and to your room.
“Wait,” You pulled back, gasping for air as you leant your forehead against his, legs still tightly wrapped around his middle. Cassian was panting just as heavily, waiting on your every move and word. “Kitchen.”
The suggestive grin he shot you went straight to your core, the feeling only amplified as he attached his lips to your neck. “I think I like where this is heading,” A soft moan sounded in the back of your throat as he tugged on your earlobe, then he was walking again, albeit very quickly, towards the kitchen, his lips back on yours.
“No, idiot,” Another moan had your breathless words halting immediately. “Food.”
Now Cassian pulled away, looking at you through the haze of love and lust, now tainted by a hint of confusion.
“Food,” You continued, pressing a kiss to his lips before trailing along his jaw and returning the favour with a tug on his earlobe. “For the mating bond.”
You felt Cassian’s body tense against you, “You’re going to accept it?”
“Yes…” you said tentatively, not quite understanding the need for his question because what other answer was there?
The intensity in which he kissed you had him stumbling back a few steps, arms wrapping even tighter around you to keep you in his arms.
“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Your gaze softened as you took in his uncertain expression, as you felt it through the bond.
“No, I don’t know. I just thought… I mean, you’re… Do you really want to be tied to a bastard-born Illy…” You cut his words off with a sharp look and a deep kiss that conveyed exactly what you thought of what he had just implied. Then you were sending every ounce of love and affection that you could muster towards him, heart melting as his expression changed and with the way he looked at you whilst processing the raw, vulnerability of the emotions surging down the bond.
You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, barely more than a lingering peck before saying, “Please can you let me give you some food now? I’ve been keeping this in all week.”
“All week? You’ve known about this since…”
“It snapped during our fight,” You shrugged, not wanting to relive it now that you had finally reached this point.
It was Cassian’s turn to pull you into a tender kiss before you found yourself overwhelmed by the new sensation of his emotions landing right above your heart.
“I think we can hold off on telling the others for just a little bit longer.”
“I think you’re absolutely right,” You tapped his arm gently and he placed you back onto your feet. Lacing your fingers with his, you pulled him into the kitchen and made him take a seat while you went about putting a plate of food together.
“Besides,” You continued, suddenly remembering Azriel’s involvement, “Az already knows. So I’m sure the others have put the pieces together by now and will steer clear for a few days.”
“A few weeks more like.” You grinned at the slight growl in his voice and the hunger in his eyes as his gaze remained fixed on you.
“Here,” Your voice was almost breathless, stomach fluttering with excitement and nerves as you pushed the plate towards him. Cassian briefly glanced down at it then, with a look of well-honed restraint, he slowly stood and walked over to you, pulling you in for a kiss as he murmured, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Without tearing his eyes away from you, Cassian reached across the table for the plate, eating everything on it as you remained transfixed on one another, basking in the feeling of the bond you shared growing stronger and stronger until, at last, everything felt as though it had finally fallen into place.
*****
Thanks for reading 🥰
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I see a lot of people going with the idea that if Danny were to be captured and tortured by the GIW, that the main people that would find him are Young Justice, Teen Titans or the Justice League main heroes.
So I raise you this idea.
The one who finds the GIW facility that's keeping Danny prisoner is The Question. The resident faceless conspiracy theorist hero that works for the Justice League. (the one I'm thinking of is the guy from Justice League Unlimited. The one that got together with Huntress. You can imagine this with the Renee Montoya version if you want, but I'm just thinking of the guy Question)
Now hear me out. The Question is known for having crazy conspiracy theories and in the the cartoon, Supergirl asks Green Arrow why they have the Question on the roster for the Justice League since he has such crazy theories, he must be insane. And Green Arrow replies with that some of his theories have actually turned out to be true.
So couple that with how The Question gets crazy theories and he does investigate them on his own time. It wouldn't be a stretch that he finds out that there's an obscure government agency that he instantly starts getting suspicious of as there's very rarely any documentation he can find about it. But what hammers his suspicions in is the obscene amount of money that's being pumped into that agency and a serious of facilities that somehow exist and yet also do not exist but he knows it's real because some of them required a humongous power grid to be able to have the facility function.
The Question starts investigating the facilities. Going undercover finding obscure ways to get into the building. He gets in finds a super secure, heavily fortified area that he could tell where most of the energy is being powered to keep locked. He finds the lab areas where he can see the autopsy tables all with machinery that are definitely raise some eyebrows. He starts downloading information about the facility from their servers and finds that the codes to unlock the area that was blocked to him before.
He goes to investigate that area and low and behold, who does he see but an imprisoned Danny who has clearly been tortured. The Question would then go "well I'm breaking him out" and just does an impromptu jail break and takes the kid which sounds the alarm. They're getting the heck out of there. The Question contacts the Justice League gets him and the kid to the Watchtower.
Later on Danny is staying with the Question, because Danny need a place to stay and he's cool with the faceless dude that saved him from his prison. The dude is like super chill with all of the stuff he talks about and actively listening to everything he talked about. Even adding comments of his own like
"I knew it! Lunch Ladies are connected with creation of the mystery meat! And they're funded by the government so they can use it as a brain control weapon to control the future generation!"
or
"The politicians of today could possibly be possessed by the ghosts of the past. They're unwilling to relinquish any power they possessed even in the afterlife!"
Plus, Danny's like completely cool with making food and cleaning up after Question. Because one, the food doesn't come to life and try to attack him like it does at home. And two, the man keeps all of his conspiracy stuff pretty organized so there was hardly anything for Danny to clean up. And sure the guy has a weird lifestyle with things such as brushing his teeth with baking soda because he says fluoride is used by the government to be able to see the people better from their satellites. Or that he'll look through everybody's garbage and would sometimes drag Danny with him to help, which he later learns is a great way to gather information about someone. And having conversations with the dude is kind of creepy when he can't see the dude's face, but he gets used to it and then starts practicing his shape shifting to see freak out the other heroes when they see he has no face.
Meanwhile The Question would have moments while working where he's like "Wait! Did I feed the kid this morning?" also Huntress is there because she doesn't trust her boyfriend at keeping a human being alive, even if they are half dead.
#Danny phantom#DC#DP x DC#dp x dc au#dp x dc crossover#Justice League#Danny phantom x Justice League#question#Danny Fenton#dpxdc#dp x dc
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Hello!! I absolutely adore your 141 platonic fics, I litterlay giggle and kick my feet when you post new storys about it. Especially since they're always gender neutral! Litteraly always check to see if youve posted a new fic, but anways!
I'm a really big sucker for found family mental health fics, especially when I'm experiencing rough times. If your comfortable with it, I was wondering if you could make the 141 catch Reader self harming or maybe just seeing the self harm on their arms accidentally and comforting them. Always love a comforting found family fic on cold nights.
If it's easier, I really love really any of your hurt/comfort type 141 fics with all my soul and eat them up anytime you post them. Especially since there isnt much gn!reader and TF 141 platonic hurt/comfort fics. So if you aren't busy than that's another option I would love to see!!
If your uncomfortable with it then that's fine and you can just ignore this post! Make sure to take care if youself aswell author. You're absolutely amazing! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼
self-slaughter — python333
— — — —
synopsis reader is a medic and is caught harming themselves by the 141 in the medbay!
relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader
characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.
word count 6.6k
warnings self-harm [specifically using a scalpel], self-harm scars, dark thoughts [nothing too bad, but thoughts of pulling off your skin and harming yourself], painful wound cleaning [with iodopovidone], 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].
note hello anon!! i too am a big sucker for found family mental health fics, and completely understand this request, and i will happily write it for you!! a lot of this is based on my own experiences with this, so i hope that's okay and that you enjoy the fic!! as well as this request, i'll use this fic as an excuse to write a few prompts on my bad things happen bingo card, which will be displayed at the end of the fic! the prompt used will be: painful wound cleaning! expect wayyyy more angst after this LMAO. also, if this feels like glorification or anything else inappropriate for a fic like this, then please let me know! since it's mainly based on my own experiences, i assume it wouldn't feel *too* much like that, but still!
It gets kind of old after so long of doing it.
Almost like it’s a chore—as if stealing glances at your medical equipment, tools meant to save the lives of others, and wishing that it were being used to draw blood from your body was just an inconvenience. You complain about it in your head like you used to about school, like it was nothing more than some homework that was due a minute before midnight.
Right now, you’re alone in the medical bay. It wasn’t often that you were, typically two bumbling idiots would stumble in every few minutes talking about how they got injured while sparring, but for the past thirty minutes it’s been silent. While you appreciated the break from the constant explanations of why the soldiers you were to tend to had gotten injured, with the silence came very unwanted thoughts.
And with nobody to focus on came your unwilling lingering stare at the sharp scalpel on the small metal equipment cart that was just a few feet away from where you sat. It didn’t help that you felt oddly guilty today, either.
Well, the guilt wasn’t odd. You knew where it came from. It just felt odd, considering the cause for it happened a week ago.
The cause had been on a critical mission last week, where you were responsible for carrying medical supplies and ensuring the team’s well-being and general health. The medical equipment wasn’t particularly expensive or hard to get, but it was still incredibly important.
However, on that same mission, right towards the end of it, you’d been caught in the midst of an intense gunfight. Distracted by the heavy enemy fire, you dropped the small bag you’d been using to carry the medical supplies, and hadn’t noticed you did until it was too late. By the time you and the others were out and heading back to base, you had just realized you left behind the medical equipment.
All week, your fellow task force members had reassured you that it was okay and that it wasn’t that big of a deal, considering nobody got hurt. Still, even a week later, you’re hung up on it. Had someone gotten injured, what could you have done? You didn’t have any supplies to help them, so what would you have done then? Just the thought of that possibility makes you shudder.
The scalpel looks so tempting.
It’s not like you hadn’t used it before—you have the scars to prove you had, ranging from small lines that could be mistaken for cat scratches to tiger-stripe length cuts that make your thighs look as though they’d been mauled by a large animal. As elegantly as you describe them in your head, the visuals of them aren’t nearly as pretty. With the help of that scalpel, a few sharp needles, and some medical scissors, you’d successfully made it look as though a bear had tried to attack you and tear your legs off.
Ironic, isn’t it? A medic harming themselves?
Your job is to literally save the lives of others, and here you are, staring at the closest thing you have to a knife in the medbay. It’s become as easy as blinking for you—which is scary, honestly, the way you’ve developed a tolerance for cutting yourself and stapling your skin back together if you’ve cut too long or deep.
It’s no longer enough to just scrape something sharp across your skin and watch blood bubble up from the broken seams of your flesh, no, now you have to cut even deeper to actually feel anything. You have to feel the scalpel being buried to the hilt in your flesh, and you have to see the way blood spurts out of the self-inflicted wound after you pull out the tool.
You continue to stare at the scalpel, sure that you look like you’re in some sort of trance right now.
It looks so tempting. You can remember the last time you used it—three days ago, the longest you’d gone without it in a while. Similar to cigarette-addicts, you often tell yourself that you’re able to stop whenever you’d like—that you’re able to quit at any time. It’s a lie, and you know it, but you still like to pretend that it’s true.
You’re still staring at the scalpel.
Its sharpened edge reflects the overhead light, creating a bright glow that strains your eyes when you stare at it for too long. The metal of the handle is worn down from use, even though it’d only been in the medbay for maybe a few months—something nobody had questioned yet, thankfully. The clean blade, replaced just yesterday, had no traces of filth or grime on it, making it even more tempting.
You blink. You hadn’t noticed the burning of your eyes until you forced them away from the small knife.
You move your gaze to your lap, where you fiddle with your fingers, gently tugging at a hangnail that’s been lingering on your thumb for the past few minutes. As you pull on it, you feel the sting that it brings, though that sting now feels dull compared to the other things you’ve done to yourself.
It almost feels like a small pinch compared to the ways you’ve mutilated your thighs on certain nights that didn’t allow you the energy to do anything else, or the ways you’ve carved apologies in the forms of lines into your arms to try and gain forgiveness for your thoughts and temptations.
You pull the hangnail off completely and watch the miniscule droplets of blood bleed through your flesh and meet your skin and nail. Before you only had the energy to do your job and harm yourself, you would’ve hissed at the sting pulling off the small bit of skin caused you and grabbed a bandaid immediately, but now, all you can think about is how it isn’t enough.
About how much better you’d feel if you pulled all your skin off. If you could feel every inch of your skin stretched to its limits and torn off of your body, because God knows you deserve it.
The thought makes you wince. That is… disgusting. Why am I thinking about that? You shake your head in hopes that it would shake away the dark thought, but instead the action makes it rattle inside your brain and break off into tiny bits in pieces, small unwanted thoughts of wounding your flesh rolling around your mind.
Similarly to Sisyphus and his boulder, you try to push those thoughts out of your mind, your hands starting to curl into tight fists, but you just can’t. Every time you push a thought back, it comes rolling back to the forefront of your mind, the momentum it gets from being pushed back so far only to get rocketed forwards making it even more unbearable to think about.
The fists your hands have formed become tighter.
Each thought that gets pushed back only jumps forwards once again, ricocheting around your brain, the effort of trying to ignore them making your ears ring.
Before you realize it, your gaze snaps back to the scalpel.
You don’t even notice the blood that begins to spill from your palms from how deeply your nails cut into your skin.
Every thought tries to be louder than the other, creating an unholy cacophony of sound; a terrifying harmony that only grew louder every second that passed. You stare at the scalpel. It continues to reflect the bright gleam of the overhead light, and it continues to make your eyes strain the more you look at it, but you can’t find it in yourself to be all that bothered about the eyestrain.
You unclench your fists and stand up, walking the short distance over to the metal medical cart where the scalpel lays, and you grab the handle of it with shaky hands. You look over at the door for a moment, and stay there for another few seconds.
Once you see that nobody’s coming in, you rush yourself to one of the beds, sliding open the curtains in front of it and sliding them back so that they’ll obscure anyone else’s view of you using the scalpel on yourself.
You sit on the bed and although the scalpel almost slips out of your hand because of the blood from your palms, you manage to keep held in your tight fist, holding it like you would a pencil; tucked under the base of your thumb, and going through the gap between your index and middle finger.
With your hands still trembling and your breath uneven, as well as a bustling mind that only grew louder as the scalpel in your hand grew closer to the skin of your forearm, you made the first incision. Almost immediately, your mind quieted, and your headache dimmed.
Quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of a clear head, you lift the scalpel from your skin, not waiting to watch the blood bubble up from your open wound like you usually would, instead opting to make another incision right next to it.
Being a medic, there was nothing you could really do to stop yourself from thinking about how deep each incision was, and how deep you were cutting into your flesh—so while you cut yourself, a train of thought begun.
Half an inch deep, You push the scalpel deeper, Now a full inch. Should take a month or two to fully heal. Wouldn’t scar.
The thought of it not scarring should make you happy, or at least, neutral, but instead the thought makes you frown. Some odd hunger that comes from the indefinite pit in your stomach craves evidence for the malice you’ve shown towards your own skin, something that would prove your self-hatred.
So, you go another half inch deeper. Scarring would be possible, but not as high of a chance as if you went another half inch. With that thought, you go the last half inch. There we go.
You slide the scalpel blade through your flesh, the blade cutting through it like it would a firm fruit like a pear. It’s easier to cut through skin when the skin is pulled taut, You think, If only I had an extra hand.
You pull out the blade and repeat. You feel less guilty already.
All that worry about fucking up during your last assignment washes away, like the wave of guilt that overcame you earlier receded and pulled back that worry with it, lowering the tide of shame and self-reproach within you. In fact, the tide lowers so much that it almost completely disappears from your mind—like it never existed in the first place.
Reminds me of a tsunami, You repeat your actions with the scalpel, When the tides get low, so low that the ocean floor shows and you could walk where you’d originally have to swim, it’s because a tsunami is building up.
You look down at your work. Your forearm is a bloody mess, crimson red dripping down to your fingers and threatening to drop onto the stark white sheets of the bed you’re sitting on. You sigh tiredly and get up from the bed, putting the end of the scalpel’s handle into your mouth—ignoring the voice in the back of your head that reprimands you for not thinking about bacteria or contamination—and biting down to hold it whilst you slide the curtains in front of the bed to the side, walking out of the small resting area.
You grab the scalpel and set it onto the metal medical cart by your desk, grabbing the gauze on that same cart, opening the small box it’s kept in with your non-bloody hand. It’s a struggle, but you manage it open, and you shake the roll of gauze out onto the cart.
In the middle of you attempting to pull the end of the gauze off of the roll so that you could begin to wrap it around the red lines decorating your forearm, you hear loud footsteps walking near the medbay. You freeze in place, the gauze roll in one hand, your eyes burning holes through the door with how intensely you stare at it.
There’s a knock. Then another.
The door handle twists.
You stare at the door, and everything feels like it’s in slow motion for a second.
The door opens.
“Hey, dae ye hae any—” Soap walks in, the sergeant taking one look at you before cutting himself off with a confused and immediately worried, “Holy shit, whit happened tae yer arm? Are ye alright?”
He rushes over to you and takes your bleeding forearm into his hand. You almost immediately rip it away from his grip.
“Nothing! Everything’s fine! Just an accident,” You lie, holding the blood-covered forearm close to your chest, “I was just about to clean it up.”
“Dae ye need help wrappin’ it, an cleanin’ it up, or anything?” Soap asks, eyebrows furrowed and his expression beyond worried.
“Nope,” You insist, “It’s fine. All good here.”
“... Ye sure?”
“Uh huh,” You nod your head, “All good. Don’t worry about it.”
“‘kay then,” Soap tilts his head and crosses his arms, “Whit happened?”
“Just a little accident with some of the equipment,” You nod down to the bloody scalpel on the medical cart, “That’s all.”
It must be obvious you’re lying, because Soap sighs and says, “I think we baith ken that that’s a lie.”
You stay silent for a few moments, before Soap speaks up again, “Ye ken if ye dinnae tell me, I’ll jist jump tae conclusions, richt?”
You take a deep breath before mumbling something under your breath. When Soap’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, you repeat louder, “I used the scalpel. On myself.”
“Ye whit?”
“I used the scalpel on myself,” You look away, and rush out, “and I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t help it, it’s not like— like a normal thing or anything, it’s just this once, I swear, and— and—”
“[c/n], calm down,” Soap quickly uncrosses his arms and sets both hands onto your shoulders, furrowed eyebrows now taking a more concerned shape, “It’s okay.”
You take a deep breath and look at him, looking at his nose instead of his eyes because you don’t think you could handle eye contact right now, “I’m really sorry.”
“Why would ye dae that tae yerself?” Soap asks, voice soft and almost pitying, which makes you want to curl up and die.
You shrug, not wanting to answer verbally.
“Dae ye— dae the others ken?” Soap questions.
“No.”
“I’m—” Soap looks conflicted for a moment, “I hae an assignment… I’ll get Gaz tae help ye, aye? An’ I’ll check in wi’ ye as soon as possible?”
You hesitate, but end up nodding in agreement, thankful that Soap offered to get Gaz rather than one of the others. The others seemed so oddly scary right now that you don’t even want to think about how they’d react to this whole situation. It’s all gone by so fast—one moment you were sitting on a hospital bed, the next you’re found out by Soap of all people—you’ve barely had time to think about the others.
“Okay. Okay, okay,” Soap repeats the word under his breath like a mantra, thinking to himself for a second before sighing and looking down at you again, “Jesus, fuck, okay. I’ll go get him, ye stay here, aye?”
You nod again, this time your vision begins to get more blurred.
“Ye’re gonnae be okay, okay?” Soap tries to reassure you. You nod once again, sniffling a little bit, making Soap’s gaze soften.
He takes his hands off of your shoulders and gives you one last sad look before turning around and rushing out of the medbay, his thundering footsteps growing quieter as he gets closer to Gaz’s location—most likely his sleeping quarters.
You wait a moment and when you hear no footsteps, your gaze goes back to the blade. It’s not like it’ll hurt to do a few more. I’ll stop when the others arrive.
You grab the handle of the blade, and as quickly as you can, akin to an addict scrambling for substance, you slice through the skin of your non-mutilated hand. You make several quick and deep gashes before dropping the scalpel onto the medical cart again, breathing heavy, the cuts this time actually hurting. It felt like fire was running rampant through your nerves, all stemming from the self-induced wounds, and you winced at the new pain. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but still.
When you hear footsteps again, you can tell they aren’t Soap’s.
The door clicks open and in walks Gaz, already looking very worried—presumably from what Soap told him about your… situation—with another person in tow. Right behind him, Price walks in, expression neutral so far.
Gaz looks over at you, his eyes widening as he sees the bloody gashes in your forearms. Without a second thought, he rushes over to you, his hand reaching for your forearm. Before you can stop him, he grabs your bloody forearm and pulls it up a bit so that he can look at it closer. You flinch, and Price quickly walks over to you two before Gaz can even utter a single word.
“Let’s not, okay?” Price’s version of ‘knock it off’, “I’m here, I’ll take care of their… thing. You hand me what I tell you to. Understood?”
“Yup— Yes, sir. Captain,” Gaz corrects himself quickly, making a slip-up that in any other situation would’ve made you at least chuckle, but all you can do now is stare at the pair as you hold your bloody arms to your chest.
Price looks back over to you and nods over to one of the many empty curtain-surrounded beds and says, “Go sit over there and wait for a few seconds.”
You nod, not knowing what else to do or say, and immediately walk over there. It’s the room furthermost to the right, the one that’s also the closest to the door and the one you’d coincidentally gone into to cut yourself.
You slide the curtains to the side and sit down on the white bed, and just a few seconds later, just as Price said, he walked in as well. He sat next to you, Gaz in tow, the latter carrying a jar of cotton pads and balls as well as a bottle of Betadine.
Betadine—or iodopovidone, whichever name you preferred—was a sort of antiseptic that was generally used for cleaning cuts and wounds. Maybe not ones as deep as yours, but it would still work just as well.
Despite it not being alcohol-based, or really having any alcohol in it, it still hurts the same as rubbing alcohol would, which you were… definitely not looking forward to.
“Sergeant,” Price takes the jar and bottle of Betadine from Gaz, “Go and grab the skin stapler for me.”
“Yes, sir,” Gaz nods, walking out of the room once again. Price sets the jar and bottle of Betadine onto the bed beside himself after he leaves.
With you and Price now in the room alone, he turns to you and holds out his hand with his palm faced up for your arm silently. You carefully put your forearm onto his hand, watching as he gently pulls it closer to him, looking a bit closer at it before sighing through his nose and using his free hand to open the jar of cotton pads.
“How did this happen?” He asks, breaking the silence.
“Soap didn’t fill you in?”
“No.”
You think about what to tell him for a moment. What’s too straightforward? What’s too vague? How do I not overstep? How do I not sound like I just want attention?
Eventually, you settle on, “I was— … I saw the uh… scalpel, and I just… decided to use it a little bit. On myself.” Definitely not the best you can do, but what else could you say? ‘Oh, I cut myself with a scalpel because I felt guilty and if I didn’t I probably would’ve had a panic attack or a mental breakdown’?
“…” Price pauses for a moment, eyes twitching for a split second before he continues his movements to grab a cotton pad and questions you, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“You know what I’m asking, [c/n].”
He’s asking why you did it. There’s not one simple answer you could give him—sure, you could tell him that you felt guilty and it was a bad habit that you’ve told yourself you could stop but never tried to, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth.
You can’t fully express or dictate why you do it, you just do. It’s like when you cut slits into bread before baking it. Without those slits, the bread would crack and split at the seams on its own, but with them, the splitting and expanding of the dough is controlled.
Except, with you, it’s like you’re cutting yourself before the tension building inside of you makes you burst at the seams. Taking a blade to your skin has given you a sense of control—maybe that’s why it’s so addicting, You think, it’s the only way I’ve been able to control my feelings.
But you can’t just say all of that. Well, you could, but did you want to? Fuck no.
Instead, you opt for shrugging, which doesn’t satisfy Price one bit.
“I could see you thinking about it,” He sighs, “I know you at least have some sort of real answer.”
Well, fuck. “It’s a long answer.”
“I never said it couldn’t be.”
He doesn’t move to grab the Betadine at all, instead waiting for you to talk.
You purse your lips and think for another moment before finally talking again, “I was feeling really guilty and tense, and I guess it just got too much, so I just kind of… had to. Like I felt like I was gonna fuckin’… I dunno, have a nervous breakdown or something. And honestly, it’s a really stupid reason, because the thing that I’m feeling guilty about happened like a week ago, but still—I’ve been feeling really guilty about it. It—It’s not like I can’t stop, if I tried I could, I swe—swear, and I just— it’s been really easy to just— you know? I— honestly, it’s not that big of a deal—”
“Hey, hey—” Price brings a hand to your shoulder and softens his voice, “It’s okay. I understand.”
“I ju—st… I’m sorry, I—”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, quickly bringing that same hand up to cup your jaw, “You’re okay. You don’t have to say sorry.”
“But I—”
“Shh.” You hadn’t even noticed how frantic your breathing had gotten during your small word vomit. And to just make things worse, there’d been tears gathering at your water line, well on their way to spilling over and creating tear tracks down your cheeks.
You can’t help but let go of all the tension in your shoulders the moment Price starts gently rubbing his thumb back and forth over your cheek. The moment he does that, it’s practically game over for you.
Those tears spill out from the corners of your eyes and you can already feel your next breath get caught in your throat, leaving you to just let Price gently guide your head to lean forwards against his chest, letting out small hiccups and trying desperately to hold back the sobs you want to let out.
It all happened so fast, you don’t even know how you got here. One moment you were doing a good job of somewhat keeping your guard up, the next your resolve was crumbled completely by the gentle and oddly caring touch of Price’s hand.
Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, then someone walks in while you’re burying your head further into Price’s chest—Ghost. You can tell it’s him by the way he walks. He has long strides, he never drags his feet, and the moment he slides the curtains to the side to see you, his footsteps stop. They start up again a moment later, and he sits by your side, opposite of where Price is sitting—to your right instead of your left.
Gaz must’ve let him in while he was looking for the stapler, You think, sniffling against Price’s chest. Normally, you would’ve felt some sort of shame by now, but given the current situation, you didn’t find much room to give a shit.
You feel Price’s head move up slightly, and judging by the way he occasionally nods and sometimes moves his hands a bit, you can only assume that he’s having some sort of nonverbal conversation with Ghost right now. This conversation goes on for about a few minutes longer before you’ve managed to control your breathing a bit more.
Price can tell, and he asks just for confirmation, “Is it alright if I clean your cuts now?”
You nod and sniffle once before taking your head off of Price’s chest, looking down at your lap, simply holding out one of your blood-crusted arms to him. You can see Ghost stiffen up behind you almost immediately at the sight of it.
Price grabs a cotton pad from the jar he was handed earlier, as well as the bottle of iodopovidone, and soaks the cotton pad with said iodopovidone. Once it’s soaked with the antiseptic solution, he hesitates before pressing it to your bloody arms.
Almost immediately, you inhale a sharp breath and feel tears stinging your eyes again.
“It’s okay,” Price tries to calm you down, seeing the tears forming in your eyes again, “You’re okay.”
You sniffle and shift on the bed, trying to blink away tears that threaten to spill over your water line. Ghost, sitting by your side, puts a gloved hand over your shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your shoulder. His eyes twitch as you bite the inside of your cheek to muffle another sob while Price presses another Betadine-infused cotton pad to your self-induced wounds, and although you can barely see him, out of the corner of your eye, you still catch the glint of new tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he watches you.
Gaz slips back through the curtains in front of the bed, this time with Soap in tow, and hands a skin stapler to Price. Seeing the skin stapler, something you used fairly often—often enough that the others knew how it worked and how to use it—automatically made your stomach turn.
“Told ye I’d come back for ye,” Soap murmurs, kneeling down to get about eye-level with you. You huff out the smallest laugh at his words and he gives you a small smile that makes you want to go lock yourself in a room with a scalpel and repeat what you’d done earlier all over again, his empathetic expression paining you more than taking a blade to your arm.
As a matter of fact, the expressions that you wish were pity coming from everyone around you hurts more than anything you could’ve ever done to yourself. Their concern was so unexpected—not that you don’t think they care, but you never thought they cared this much. You didn’t think that, if caught in the act, you would receive empathetic looks and solemn smiles, rather thinking that you would receive reprimanding. That you’d be punished for punishing yourself.
Price thanks Gaz silently with the curt nod of his head before turning back to you with a solemn expression that in all honesty makes you more guilty and disappointed with yourself than before. He holds the skin stapler like he would a hot glue gun, looking down at the open wounds in front of him, and holds your forearm closer to him so he can see the edges of the cuts better.
"Keep your arm like that," He murmurs, to which you respond with a nod and stiffening your arm so that it stays in the air where Price positioned it. He uses his now free hand to gently pull the edges of the cut you'd made closer together, aligning them the best he can before pressing the metal staple dispenser to the cut and pushing down on the trigger, stapling the two edges together with a click.
He holds it down for an extra second before releasing and pulling the stapler away from your skin, and although the process only took around three seconds, you'd never get used to the feeling of getting your skin stapled. You make a small, pained noise that has Soap wincing as well--as though he can feel it too--and Price looking more solemn than earlier.
“Finished with this one,” Price mutters as you swallow down another sob, holding his calloused-but-soft hand out for you to put your other forearm in. You do just that, nearly breaking into a fit of new sobs at the small ‘thank you’ Price utters.
You watch Price soak another cotton pad with iodopovidone with his free hand and suck in a deep breath as he presses it to your forearm, the originally white cotton pad almost immediately going red. Tears spill over your waterline and roll down your cheeks as he continues to clean and disinfect your wounds, and before you can move your free hand to wipe them away, Ghost does so for you, his rough gloved hand swiping below your eyes quickly.
You mumble a small 'thank you' that's barely even audible, sniffling as you can’t help but lean forward the tiniest bit into Ghost’s hand as it lingers on your cheek. He pauses, keeping it there for a second, before bringing that same hand up to the crown of your head and pushing gently on it to urge you to lean your head back. You do so, the back of your head quickly making contact with his Adam’s apple and the top of your head becoming tucked underneath his chin.
His hand goes back down to your shoulder and continues its ministrations of rubbing small circles into said shoulder, bringing you intermittent moments of comfort throughout the painful wound cleaning you had to endure.
Soap keeps a comforting hand on your knee as he’s kneeled down in front of you, his thumb occasionally copying Ghost’s, but otherwise remaining still on your knee, careful not to force you through too many different sensations at once.
Gaz watches you from by the curtain, seeming not to do and looking completely lost. He stands there for another moment, watching the others, seeing what they’re doing for a second, before giving Ghost a ‘one moment’ signal by holding up his index finger and stepping out of the curtain-surrounded area.
Right after he does, another painful sting shoots up your nerves from your forearm, and you make the mistake of looking down at it.
Wounds that only fifteen minutes ago had brought you to a calmer state of mind and were nothing more than incisions made by the scalpel you’d used to cut other people for entirely different reasons now almost hurt to look at. Once you could’ve compared them to marks left by wild animals, and you could’ve described them as though they were trophies, but now, as you stare down at them being cleaned by your own captain, they look nothing like the sort.
They don’t look like any of the pretty descriptions you’d given them. They don’t look like cat scratches you’d gotten in an accident, or like something you would get out of a fight with a bear—they don’t make you look strong and brave like you thought they did.
They look like tally marks. Sanguineous, gruesome tally marks, made by you, like you’d been counting down the days—or seconds, minutes, hours—until you’d had enough. Until you’d had enough of just carving your skin with medical equipment, and needed something more. Craved something more.
Price must notice you staring down at the wounds, because he pauses in his movements to clean them for a moment, the sudden stopping of the stinging sensation the iodopovidone-soaked cotton making you shiver. You look up at him, and see him already looking down at you, concerned.
“You’re thinking about something,” He points out softly, “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”
You hesitate and look back down at your arm that Price had stopped cleaning, before mumbling, “Just thinking about how these are gonna scar.” It’s not entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth either.
Price tilts his head to the side a bit, questioningly, “Do you know how they’re gonna scar?”
“Well, when you work in the medical field for a bit, it gets easier to tell.”
You can tell he wants to ask how they’re gonna scar, so you decide to just say, “They’re all about one-and-a-half to two inches deep, so they’ll heal fully and then scar in a few months. Once they do, they’ll be visible, but not too prominent. The scarring tissue will stick above the skin a little bit, and it’ll make it look a little bit puffy.”
“Alright,” Price hums, tone neutral, “So they’ll be… visible.”
He sounds disgusted, A voice in the forefront of your mind insists, while one from the back of your mind tries to tell you, You have no way of knowing that, just see where the conversation goes. He has no reason to be disgusted with you.
“Yeah.”
“Okay then,” Price sets the cotton pad down and grabs the skin stapler he’d been using earlier, “And it’ll take a few months to heal, you said?”
“Several months, yeah.” Price considers this for a moment, pausing in his movements to hold the stapler to your skin.
“Do you think you’ll need any help re-wrapping the bandages while they heal?” He inquires, resuming his movements after asking the question.
“…” You think for a moment, Will you?, and after a few seconds, hesitantly, you reply, “… Yeah.”
“M’kay,” Price hums softly, neutrally. “And would you want me to be the one who does it?”
You think for another few minutes. Preferably, you’d be doing them yourself, but you didn’t trust yourself enough for that—so getting one of them to do it for you is your next best option. You wouldn’t mind if it was Price doing it, but at the same time, you wouldn’t mind if Ghost, Gaz, or Soap did it either.
“It doesn’t matter,” You settle on, before tacking on, “As long as it’s one of you four.”
“Us ‘four’ being… ?”
“You, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”
“Got it,” Price nods. You see Soap smile softly out of the corner of your eye before he quickly stops, trying to purse his lips into a line. He’s probably thinking that he shouldn’t be happy about that, You think, almost amused. You feel Ghost’s thumb stutter on your shoulder as well, before it starts back up normally.
Your words affect them more than you thought they would.
Breaking your train of thought, Price staples your skin with a muted click, making you wince.
It’s silent for a few more moments before Gaz finally comes back, now out of breath and carrying a bar of chocolate. He hands you the chocolate bar and says, panting, “I almost had to spar someone for that. Why do you have to like the chocolate one of the other fuckin’ Lieutenants do?”
You take the chocolate bar with your free hand gingerly and blink at it for a few moments before setting it down next to you.
“Nobody told you to get it,” You shrug, before tacking on, “Thank you, though.”
“Uh-huh, yeah, totally, hey so uh—” He looks at Soap and jabs his thumb towards where the door would be behind the curtains, “We’re both needed somewhere else. Again. They said they forgot something… again.”
“Worst fucking timing ever,” Soap grumbles, before clearing his throat and standing up, looking down at you, “Right, I’ll check in on ye later, and help ye wi’ anything ye need me tae, aye? I’ll come wi’ mair chocolate than Gaz did, ‘cause I’m better than him.”
“Got it,” You smile up at him, making him grin back and pat you on the shoulder Ghost’s hand isn’t occupying, before heading out with Gaz.
Then, you’re left with Ghost and Price.
“I should get going too,” Ghost mutters, slowly taking his hand off of your shoulder and gently pushing your head back off of his chest, almost regrettably.
“M’kay,” You watch as he gets up and hesitates, looking like he’s about to give you a hug, before he decides to instead give you a simple head nod and head out the same way the two other operators did.
And then, it was just you and Price.
It’s silent for a bit, until Price speaks up.
“You think a lot,” Price comments, finishing up the last staple.
“Does that surprise you?”
“A little bit, yeah.”
You pause for a moment before sighing through your nose, “It’s nothing. Just the same stuff I was thinking about before.”
“Wanna give me some more detail than that?”
“Not really, no,” You admit, letting your hand fall into your lap as Price lets go of it, “But I have a feeling you’re gonna want me to tell you.”
“I do.”
“It’s just something stupid, like earlier—”
“That wasn’t stupid, [c/n], that was you hurting.”
“I— I know. It’s just that this is actually stupid.”
“Well, tell me what it is, and I’ll be the judge of that.”
You think about how to phrase it in simple terms for a moment, before finally speaking, “I used to think that the scars sort of… symbolized how I was able to control myself and my emotions, and that made me feel…” You can’t think of any synonyms to make the simple words you want to say sound less childish, so you’re forced to say, “… brave. And strong. I just— I thought it showed that I was good at controlling my emotions and stuff, for some reason. But now I’m questioning all of that.”
“You’re very brave,” Price reassures you, and God, it sounds like he’s reassuring a child, “And you’re so strong. But this… this isn’t how you show that. This—cutting yourself—doesn’t make you either of those things. It doesn’t show that you’re either of those things. It shows that you need help.”
“But you just said that I was strong.”
“I did.”
“… Aren’t you contradicting yourself?”
“How would I be contradicting myself?” Price asks.
“You said that me— me… harming myself shows that I need help.”
“It does,” Price hums, and at your confused expression, he continues, “You needing help doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. Needing help and being strong aren’t connected like that.”
You open your mouth to argue but you close it, not knowing what to say. Price sees this and smiles knowingly, simply grabbing your hand to squeeze it once before getting up.
“I’ll check in on you later, okay? I need to get some stuff done, but as soon as I can, I’ll be back to keep you company. Or I’ll send someone else over—whichever you prefer.”
“M’kay,” You mumble, squeezing Price’s hand back before letting go. “You can do whatever. I don’t mind either one.”
“Sounds good.” Price pauses for a moment before leaning down and giving you a quick hug, and then beginning to slip past the curtains blocking any outsider's view of the bed you were sat on.
Before he can leave, you quickly say, "Thank you. For the wound-cleaning-thing."
He pauses at the curtain for a second, before smiling and replying, "You're welcome."
for those curious, the bthb card so far:
#cod#hcs#cod hcs#task force 141#tf141#platonic task force 141#platonic taskforce141#captain john price#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#price#ghost#soap#gaz#mw2#platonic task force 141 x reader#platonic cod#platonic price#platonic ghost#platonic soap#platonic gaz#hurt/comfort#heavy angst#whump#found family#request#oh my god this took so long#so so sorry#gender neutral reader
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I have a yandere Neuvillette concept that has been haunting me, especially in regard to how you write him cause I really loved your series on him :3c
So imagine a Neuvillette after he kidnapped darling. He understands why you're upset, and though he will not let you go he does feel a little guilty about keeping you with him. He justifies it by telling himself (and you) that it is for your own safety and protection.
BUUUUUUT imagine Neuvillette judging a trial where the defendant did the EXACT same thing. They kidnapped someone and help them against their will for several months. The defendant implores to him and the audience that they did it to protect the victim, they did it for love.
I think Neuvillette has overseen many trials where the defendant broke the law but still had a sympathetic reason to do so - like a person who killed in self defense or someone who stole to survive. Unfortunately, I don't think there is any canon material that explores this (as far as I know - hopefully I am wrong), but I think a non-yandere Neuvillette would not let his judgement be completely clouded by the defendant's motives. They still broke the law so off to Meropide they go, but he knows when to be lenient and understanding about it.
Back to yandere Neuvillette, this trial puts him between a rock and a hard place. This defendant did the exact same thing Neuvillette did to you, he understands their motives very well. If this is a post-Archon quest Fontaine then he has complete control over the defendant's fate. Should he judge this defendant fairly, as he had with millions of ever? If he sends the defendant to Meropide, then doesn't this mean Neuvillette is guilty in the eyes of the law as well? Deep down, does he secretly think he is above the law? That his darling's well being is more important than any legislation?
But if he declares the defendant not guilty then what will this mean for the future of Fontaine? Other criminals may see this and realize that doing things for "love" is a morally sound motive to the fair Iudex. Crime, especially kidnapping related ones, might increase! The people would question why the Chief Justice declared someone not guilty when they CLEARLY committed a heinous crime. Victims of similar crimes in Fontaine might not see Neuvillette has a pillar of justice, but of someone who undermines it (a harsh realization that you had to go through when he kidnapped you).
I imagine that whatever Neuvillette's decision is, he's a little shaken up after the trial. He goes home and seeks your (unwilling) comfort, pulling you into his arms for an embrace, even if you protest and try to slip away. He treats you a little differently afterwards; maybe he relaxes on the rules and regulations he enforced on you and gives you a bit more freedom, or maybe he doubles down on his decision to keep you and gets more frustrated when you fight back.
This made me so happy! TY for sending! 😊 I love to talk about this kind of stuff. I wish I got to do it more. I'm placing this under a cut, with warnings just to be safe.
Warnings: Yandere Content, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Captivity, my bad writing, anything else I missed, 18+, Minors DNI
Neuvillette's grey area. It's my favorite thing about him.
Here's what makes him fun. He knows how to work the law(s) to his advantage. We see that with the traveler in 4.1. Neuvillette "invents" charges for the traveler to be sent to Meropide. He does so by getting them to commit a petty crime in the form of eating Furina's discarded cake. The traveler is unaware of said crime until they're sent to the actual fortress. Only then do they realize that Neuvillette pulled a harmless fast one on them. Later, we see him do it again when he goes behind Furina's back for the sake of the nation. I'm sure he felt horrible about it and tried to apologize afterwards, but he still went through with it because there was a greater good that needed to be fulfilled.
Same kind of principle applies here. Your safety is everything to him. Up until he finds you, he believes you to be in mortal danger. I imagine the moment of you just walking out all fine was a bit anticlimactic for him, but he would definitely take that over the alternative.
Through the power of his office, Neuvillette tricks the reader into coming with him vs taking them by force. The confinement portion gets a little stickier in terms of the laws. Neuvillette's reasons for taking you are sound. Those same reasons carry through to him keeping you. He was worried. He was concerned. As one of the leaders of Fontaine, he's merely performing his duty in protecting you. He can't guarantee your safety from the perceived threat if you go home. No, it's better if you stay with him until the threat passes, which could be never btw. Just because the serial k*ller has been caught, doesn't mean there aren't others who would seek to do you harm. The mafia/cartels or even the fatui are still lurking. All it would take is one report that lists potential targets with a description that vaguely matches yours and he's set with his excuse.
Just as an aside, in my mind, Neuvillette carries some built in immunity. He has a sterling reputation. It’s not fully mentioned in the story, but even if he were accused of a crime, who would believe that person? He’s the Chief Justice of Fontaine. Someone who is purposefully written above reproach in the eyes of the population. He’s not infallible, but I feel like it would take a ton of convincing for anyone to believe Neuvillette had broken the law. Then there’s the matter of who judges him? Neuvillette is the judge. Who judges the judge in a nation with no archon?
In terms of the poor soul that has found their way before him, Neuvillette would 100% find that individual guilty regardless of his actions. Laws are laws and Neuvillette's main purpose in the story is uphold those laws. Where it gets iffy is how that person is sentenced. What is the appropriate level of justice for the crime? One could argue that the reader has already extracted a specific level of justice from Neuvillette based on how they treat him. How he feels about the trial afterwards is an interesting debate. Where Neuvillette and you start vs where you end in the series are two very different places. Since we’re talking specifically about the post-archon quest relationship between the two, I’m not sure how shaken he would be. The relationship is in a very different place from where the first story picks up. I can see him visiting his past feelings on the subject and briefly questioning specific things, but in the end it doesn’t matter to him based on how the series ends.
Still, for the purpose of this though, I can see him going home and bringing you close. How willing you want to be is up to you. 😊
#genshin impact#genshin#genshinimpact#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin x reader#yandere neuvillette x reader#yandere neuvillette#neuvillette#chief justice neuvillette#neuvillette x reader#genshin fanfic#genshin impact fanfic#anonymous asks#anonymous
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I had a conversation the other day, with a person who seemed to have some respect for me, but couldn't understand why I'm still having trauma symptoms, and can't be normal already. I took it as a chance to try and explain my symptoms, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears; I was told I just needed to tell myself that 'I am a new person now', and forget about the past. The person then explained to me how they weren't always the same person either, and they would sometimes cringe at their behaviour in the past, but then they would be proud of themselves for being smarter and more reasonable today. I couldn't quite explain to them that my situation was not the same.
They gave me various suggestions like 'just don't think about these things anymore', and 'these people are not going to hurt you anymore', which I strongly doubted was true. I tried to explain that I am not purposefully thinking about it; in fact, I was doing everything to avoid it. But with intrusive thoughts, flashbacks, nightmares, and the symptoms of the dissociative disorder, I had no control over it, the past was at my throat, holding me and unwilling to let go. I could tell that they still believed I was doing it on purpose, holding on and refusing to stop living in the past.
I very rarely get a chance to talk to someone about anything trauma related, so I was originally grateful that anyone was even showing an interest at 'attempting to help me', but later when I thought about the entire thing, I got pissed off.
Firstly it doesn't make any sense for me to be 'normal', in any timeline, regardless of how much time has passed. You can't have a person living first few decades of their life in belief that their life is worthless, in environment where they're getting locked up, beaten, humiliated, tortured, threatened with death, brainwashed to believe they're not human, severely neglected, and without any kind of genuine caretaker or a parent. And then leave it to this person to 'deal with it alone', never getting any help, never even getting reassured that what happened to them was wrong. That is complete abandonment by human society, and I find it sick and twisted that this person should be expected to adhere and integrate into society afterwards, for what? This person will logically feel betrayed, untrusting, bitter, feral and unnacepting the society's standards, especially their standards for victim blaming and ignoring abuse. Society continually fails these people expects them to 'fix themselves' so nobody would feel uncomfortable about it.
Secondly why is it up to me to change as a person? I am not like this because 'I was not a good enough person', I am not the one who needs changing. I am good as I am. It's worse that after being failed in every aspect, I am now being seen as the one in 'the need of change', for not acting normal and being haunted by my past. I am not hurting anybody! I am the only one suffering from this. God forbid my reality leaves someone uncomfortable, I better try to hide it better. Which I actually do unless sometimes is actively asking me about it.
And the last bit of my anger is about making it seem like the actual problem is 'me holding onto the past', and not my life being severely different and harmful in a way that isolates me from other people. I don't have the same formative experiences other people had. I don't remember being cooed at and hugged, I don't have endless experiences of being taught that I'm important, that someone will care and intervene when I'm in pain, that the figures of mother and father are safe, warm, comforting and reliable. That childhoods are a positive and fun part of life. That families work as an environment for children to be raised on. I don't have the experiences that formed all other beliefs that this culture holds, I hold nothing sacred that is sacred to everyone else, I don't believe in the authorities, I don't believe in family, I don't rejoice with holidays, I don't want children, I don't trust religion, I feel contempt towards capitalism, I don't relate or connect to people who are receptive to any of it.
And it turns out I'm right to feel as I do. Because people in this society will actively come to me asking me to 'stop being like that', while never asking any abuser to 'stop being like that'. Victims who make them uncomfortable can be spoken down to, should be told to stop being traumatized, even in private, while the abusers just need to be 'ignored' and 'hopefully they stop doing it'. What a great plan. Surely it will fix everything.
Humane thing to do would be to approach me with awareness that I've been treated like a worthless creature and address it and allow me to act genuine about it. If I'm still feeling betrayed, abandoned and outcast from society, I should be able to express that. I deserve to react with genuine responses rather than this insane preformance art I have to do every single day to make sure nobody else is aware or uncomfortable by my peril.
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Hi, I usually only send asks to people on anon, but I really wanted to say that I am so sorry this fandom has been so awful to you and made what should have been a fun and cool thing such a negative experience. I will be sad not to see the rest of the scripts, but I hope stopping the posts gives you some peace 💙
thanks for the kind words, honestly i need them right now. after some consideration, i've come to make a decision on how i want to operate moving forward.
as of now i've permanently deleted my scheduled posts on twitter, i won't be posting anything there anymore.
for tumblr, i removed everything from my queue and they're sitting in my drafts, but i may just post the excerpts i like this weekend.
on the whole, i'm taking a big step back from this fandom. i've met a lot of nice people here and made friends, but the loud voices of some of the worst people here just make this an overall unenjoyable experience. for my own mental health, i think it's important to simply cut off the opportunity for people to engage with me directly.
to give some clarity, this is not just about people doubting my posts. i find those to be funny since i have never made it a secret where i get my scripts from, people just seem to be unwilling to read or do research. i actually do have one single image of a script on my phone that the librarian okayed me to photograph. but i forgot about it while making edits and now i simply don't want to post it. (i thought i didn't copy down daemon asking for rhaenyra's hand in episode 4, apparently, i was wrong and just forgot about the picture.)
this is about people calling me awful names, accusing me of pedophilia, because that's everyone's favorite word to use in this fandom, and insulting my friends when i won't respond to them.
it's about people who seem to think i deserve harassment because i put myself out there. it's about people who think i'm just too engaged and need to be more "zen" about fandom and the insults being hurled my way. it's about people who feel entitled to my posts and regularly demand greedily that i post about their favorite character already.
it's also about people cozying up to me one minute and then calling me names the next. it makes it really hard to trust anyone in this fandom, much less want to befriend them. i shouldn't have to get used to people suddenly popping up in my dms trying to befriend me after finding out that i could be a "source" for them, but i did and that's on me.
i said before that if i stopped this project i would expose everyone who was an asshole to me. the hilarious fact is that it would literally be too many screenshots of people acting like the worst type of people. all the things i listed above are from multiple people across multiple platforms. it's not just twitter, or tumblr, or discord, or reddit. it's the fact that these people exist literally in every corner of this fandom that makes me want to pull back completely.
i'll keep contributing in the areas where i enjoy contributing, but i'm done engaging with people who seem to view me as entertainment or a punching bag.
to people who have defended me without knowing me, or have simply just been polite, thanks so much. it really does help even if i don't reply to every kind word.
#sorry for this extremely long post but i've had like 48 hours to think on this#none of this is directed at one specific person and if you feel like i'm calling you out specifically then that's a you problem#this is after like dozens and dozens of awful people who i try to block and yet still can't get my name out of their mouth#ask
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I feel that any bad-faith argument about abortion needs to be turned into argument about quality and value of all life on earth. Because we are an intelligent species, and are capable of looking ahead and seeing the consequences of out actions.
For instance, we are living in a world with current ongoing wars, where certain people are given the orders to end thousands of lives, without any consequences or retributions. And yet this is not where pro-life is focusing their intent; apparently once babies grow up it's perfectly fine to gruesomely end those same lives in a genocide, or be starved to death during wars, that kind of thing just 'can't be helped'. But women can be pressured and guilted into birthing more babies, so apparently that's the way to go, sure way to increase the amount of suffering in the world.
But, you'll say, not all born babies will be killed off in wars (weird thing to say honestly), what about children who will live their lives safely and happily on this planet?
Well, tell me how?
Any child being born is going to experience the devastating effect of the climate change, they'll watch whole ecosystems collapse, animals going into extinction, and thousands of humans losing their homes and survival resources. They're being born into a misogynistic world, and if the child is female, she'll experience oppression that she won't even be able to prove is real to the male part of the population.
This child will grow up in the world where empathy is scarce, they'll be bombarded with news about human suffering almost every day, they're likely to come down with mental illness or at least feel that the future is bleak and brings more pain. They're also likely to fall victim to pedophiles, predators, and brainwashed boys who learned to sexually assault other kids due to the exposure of p*rn. Is pro-life trying to protect them from any of it? No. They're fighting to stop teaching them about puberty and what sex is, so once these traumatic things happen to them, they're unable to recognize them or speak about it.
But let's look into even more immediate effects of having a child born against their mother's consent. Once a baby is born, they're alive, but we all know that if they're not tended to, they'll die, experiencing nothing but pain. We always assume women will do this labour unprompted, but how can we assume this?
The forced mother, who is already traumatized from having to go trough forced birth, is likely both unwilling and without proper resources to care for a baby. The baby will feel this, they will know they're unloved. They'll know they're unwanted before they even grow up. As a solution to this, you suggest we blame and shame all mothers for not being good enough, for struggling with post-birth trauma or post-partum depression, for being unwilling to be a parent? You can't control what an unwilling mother does with her baby. You forced her to give birth but you can't do anything beyond that point.
Why did you do it? Why did you make sure a baby exists in a world where there is nobody who wants them, is willing to take care of them or give them a good life? What is it worth to you if there's another unwanted, unloved, suffering child out there? Does it make your life better if there's more human suffering? Do you fight for support of new mothers, for better healthcare, for better resources to take care of abandoned babies, for better institutions to take care of unwanted children? No. You feel entitled to women's unlimited labour and endless caretaking of children they don't want. You don't want to acknowledge it's undertaking of a huge scale, that requires endless resources, finances, complete exhaustion, loss of health, sleep, protection, sometimes education and career. It's nothing to you. Loss of quality of life, for everyone involved, means nothing to you.
As long as there is more human suffering. As long as mother didn't get any say over whether she'll become a mother or not, and how many times, and when. As long as her life was put at risk without her consent. As long as she was punished for something you consider she should be punished for.
And now I'm going to circle back to where I started, the war. Because mothers have to watch their children both go to war, risk their lives in war, and be killed in wars. After putting that endless amount of energy and resources to grow and raise a single child, they'll have to watch them go to slaughter. And what happens if a child dies, as a solider in a war? Mother gets payment for it. That's right. For having that child murdered by someone else, the mother will get paid. Murder of that child is not only okay, legal, approved by government and somehow necessary, but is also rewardable to the mother, who, had she refused to birth that same child, causing zero suffering to ensue, would have been punished. Nobody except the mother can get punished.
If the child was killed in a war, and not a soldier, nothing. Apparently loss of life with extreme amount of human suffering, is worth absolutely nothing. But refusing to put that life out there, is a punishable crime. Because it only matters if it's unborn or a newborn. Once that same baby grows up, it's slaughter time. Humans apparently lose value after they grow up, they're only worth as 'endless human potential' in unwilling hands, but after they've reached the age of 'not a baby anymore', worthless.
We have observed the world for long enough to see the consequences of the actions we make. Women are the only ones who can and should decide whether they are willing and able to bring another life into the world, that is worth living, that will provide a life which is livable, enjoyable, worth being alive for. Life is extremely precious and bringing it into the world where it will be subjected to neglect, torture, and possibly a painful death, is unacceptable.
Caring for mother's rights is the first thing that will improve any child's quality of life. Caring about the environment is the second. Ending wars and debilitating male's ability to even start a war, is a fight for life. Not fighting for them to take control of female bodies, which they'll use to make themselves endless supply of soldiers, endless war resources. Taking control from women always means putting it in hands of m*n, who don't find any problem with human suffering, who celebrate wars, find themselves at home doing massive murdering, torturing and raping of women and children.
Women in charge of life means making life compatible with joy, love, care and warmth. We are the only ones who give children have safety, community, care and protection only a willing mother can give. You're wrangling it away from us further away from control the women are. We are fighting for a world where every mother is willing, and every child wanted. Why aren't you?
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fic rec friday 22
welcome to the twenty-second fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.
1. you’re the one that never lets me roam by @littendeservesbetter
If any of his teammates were insulted—if Allura’s leadership was doubted, if Hunk was called too soft, if Pidge was underestimated, if Keith was attacked for his Galran heritage—Lance would defend them in a heartbeat. He knows his team and he loves his second family. He’d defend them to the universe and back.
So why wouldn’t they do the same for him?
-
season 7 episode 4: Lance's thoughts after the game show.
this fic is genuinely one of my favourite handlings of that piece of shit episode ever fr. its klance BUT also not a half-assed apology!! im not articulating this right but my point is that this is handled so well and god bless my fellow lance stans
2. xo by @thespacenico
keith confesses to lance hoping that the expected rejection will help him move on ASAP. it doesn't quite go according to plan.
darcy does not miss!! seriously her fics always make me smile. my two favourite parts of this fic were that a) when lance didn’t know who keith liked he assumed immediately and wholeheartedly it was hunk. that’s golden right there and b) shiro is a DRAMA LOVING BITCH
3. for you only by @paprbee
"Be mine," Keith mumbles, pleas, against Lance's lips, unwilling to pull away.
"Yes," Lance whispers, smiling as Keith brushes their lips together again, pressing up and forward to kiss Keith properly. "You too... be mine, too."
"I am," Keith tells him when they break apart reluctantly, their foreheads pressed together, tip of their noses touching, Keith's arms squeezing Lance gently in their hold around his waist and lower back. "I'm yours."
okay i cannot describe how much this fic makes me lose my mind in my own words i literally have to give you guys a snippet of the fic that made me actually cry real tears and struggle to breathe:
"Baby," Keith says softly and it sends a thrill through Lance, hearing pet names from Keith is so rare he always melts when he does hear them, specially when they're whispered against his lips this way. He presses a soft chaste kiss into Lance again before he continues to mutter softly. "My baby, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you."
its just. the devotion. the repetition. it always fucking gets me. from keith especially, bc hes such a devoted guy!! he is loyal to a goddamn fault and beyond like!!! thats how he loves!! with his whole heart his whole body his whole soul his own being!! he loves and loves and loves!!!
4. i’ll be your romeo by @jilliancares
In a world where Soul Marks show up only after your soulmate has fallen in love with you, it's rare for them to appear when you're not already in a relationship. It's even rarer for them to show up when you're standing on a chair in your favorite coffee shop, screeching at the sight of a spider. Lance becomes well-acquainted with this brand of "rare", and he gets the cute barista, Keith, to help him with the search for his soulmate.
first of all soulmate aus my beloved. second of all jillian fics my beloved. third of all this fic is SO dorky and i love it!! i was hooked by the first scene bc it was just so funny. the way keith falls for lance...hes such a goober i love him
5. finally, you’re mine by @nezueye
“I need you to do me a favor.”
“Okay. Anything,” Keith says easily.
[...]
“Okay so, I just need-“ Lance sighs. He pushes his hands through his hair and braces himself. “I need you to break my heart. Once and for all.”
Keith chokes on his next words. “Excuse me?”
“Break my heart.”
- or -
Does Lance finally get the guy?
this is another devotion fic bc i am fully and completely obsessed with them. i made a seperate rec for this fic a couple months ago bc it truly made my breath stop like i could not process. there were three scenes in particular that made me gasp out loud and make my heart pound. just the easy way they love each other...sobbing
that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!
#this is a really important one to me#devotion fics Get to me#vld#voltron#lance#lance mcclain#keith#keith kogane#klance#galtean klance#canon divergence#devoted keith#romantic keith#soft klance#modern au#soulmates au#fic rec#fic rec friday
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Could Cyprus be made a better dad if we forced him to see a psychiatrist? Because to be honest I love him, but it is clear that we will have problems because I have anger issues and I will not be able to handle his personality sometimes and when we had a kid I will never allow him to treat my child harshly, Would it scare him if I threatened to separate if he does not allow me to help him solve his problems? Or is there another better way to talk to him?
I feel like there is only one scenario for me with him: first I slowly discover how his mind works and his problems and then I try to help him, in every possible way because I want to try everything before I completely lose hope in him because I love like that, if he listens to me we will be happy (I feel that this could work and that he would listen to me if I reciprocated his initiatives, and behaved with him like any normal, loving girlfriend would) and if he doesn't -Things will become ugly because I know he won't let me walk out the door just like that😭
Honestly characters like him hurt me a lot and I pity them a lot because I know they are like this because of problems caused to them by people in their childhood and when they were adults, no one showed a healthy interest in him. like his exes: They all wanted something from him but they didn't want him for him, they didn't care what kind of influence they had on him, No one cared to talk to him about his psychological wounds, His trauma shaped his mentality, and I want to be the first person to help him, or at least try!
tw: afab reader, cyprus is a bigot
Well, the problem is that he doesn't believe that there is anything wrong with him. You could successfully drag him to a psychiatrist by threatening to leave, but he would simply pretend that he's listening to the one trying to talk to him. Meanwhile, his mind is thinking about eating your cunt out for dinner.
If he's being prescribed medication, he will pretend to take them, but throw them out when you or your kid isn't looking.
Cyprus is stubborn, strongly opinionated, and unwilling to change his views unless he experiences the prejudices himself. This is unlikely, as he is a straight, cis male who never had any doubts about his sexual or gender identity.
But there is still hope, though. Fully understanding his brain and how his logic operates before moving on to try and better him would work, but you would essentially need to be just a level below Yves to pull that off. It does help that Cyprus values your feelings somewhat; he definitely considered it more important than your child's.
He doesn't like to see his wife frowning and stressed, hence you could use that as your leverage. You will need a lot of time, patience, and empathy to merely scratch the surface of his mind fortress. Which to the majority, isn't worth all the effort just to make Cyprus tolerate certain populations of the world. But at least he wouldn't sever ties with his flesh and blood just because they're not born into the right body.
However, deep down, he hasn't let go of the hatred and bitterness in his heart. He's only doing this for you.
#yandere#yandere oc#yandere x reader#yandere male#yandere x you#male yandere oc x reader#tw yandere#yandere concept#yandere oc x reader#tw afab reader#tw transphobia#tw homophobia#oc cyprus#oc yves
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Fantasy Murderbot AU ideas
@ddpej said:
I am so tired of gods and spirits and whatnot that require ~savagery to be ~appeased. give me a Chosen who isn't beloved because they follow the Old Ways, but because they don't. a Chosen whose patron said "it was never about the knife the blood the killing, it was about the respect the gratitude the sacrifice" and it's not meaningful now to buy a goat at the market when you're not giving up anything that matters to you, when money and food and resources are no obstacle, when it's just a checkmark on the to-do list. give me a deity who asks for time or art or something built, thank yous sung in joy, conversations or explanations of silly little human minutia. a deity who says "i don't need you to kill for me I can do that just fine, i appreciated the gift of sustenance and the invitation to sit at your fire when that was all you had to offer but let's try something new now"
and I immediately had thoughts.
What if a god picks a champion because they're lonely? Maybe they can't wander far from their shrine (or one of them, at least), so they can't see much of the world without riding along in a champion's head? What if they just want a friend, someone to help and talk to and experience things with?
Wait a minute. That sounds kinda like what MB and Peri have. Especially the experiencing-things-together part - remember why Peri likes watching stuff with Murderbot?
Alright. AU time:
Gods and magic are a thing.
Magically-enforced slavery, complete with the ability to compel actions, is a thing. Sorry, Ember, but being the unwilling implement used to carry out a massacre is Kinda Important To Your Character.
Divine champions can't be controlled like that.
Peri is a lonely, nearly forgotten god (maybe the god of the fires that heat and light places of learning)
Ember is a person in desperate search of a god to be champion for.
Maybe they can solve each other's problem.
#murderbot fantasy AU#murderbot gods and champions AU#if you write this please do let me know#the murderbot diaries#murderbot#perihelion
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Do you need signs from hellenic deities or is there any chance that they will not work with you??
I've heard Artemis is picky with who she works with but then again, unreliable source because tiktok 🚶♂️
Hey, Nonny!
Genuinely, I would not take any advice or listen to TikTok pagans or polytheists in the slightest. Misinformation is spread rampantly there, and people often make ridiculous claims. I would just disregard it completely, if I'm going to be honest. I don't think I've ever learned anything helpful from there. I'm not shaming you for finding information there, though, just so you know! It's hard to know which sources to trust when it comes to such a freedom-based religion.
That said, you don't need signs from deities - in general - to start worshipping them. I only engage in deity worship (which I honestly think still includes "work"; deities still help you improve on specific aspects of your life through worshipping them), but I've personally not met a deity who is unwilling to receive worship or veneration. My biggest piece of advice to you is to just jump right into it! What do you have to lose by reaching out? Remember that deities are the protection from evil, not the cause of it. There aren't any negative consequences for simply reaching out.
That said, however, if you want more certainty before beginning, I recommend looking into different divination methods. This is the best way, imo, to receive a direct answer from a deity. It allows for back and forth conversation, oftentimes, as well which is undeniably useful. I recommend simply reaching out and asking the deity in question if they're interested, if it bothers you a lot.
In my experience with Artemis, btw, she has not been picky. She seems to be very welcoming and has always been kind to me, even looking out for and protecting me from danger. She is extremely compassionate (I believe she actually has something similar to "Kind" or "Compassionate" as one of her epithets) and tends to be very nurturing, in my experience. I recommend simply reaching out. I see no harm in doing so.
Also, if you'd like some good resources on Hellenic deities and worship, I highly recommend the book Hellenic Polytheism: Household Worship by Labrys. I also recommend looking into ancient works, such as Theogony by Hesiod or The Library of Greek Mythology by Apollodorus. These can simply inform you on the culture and myths surrounding the gods, though I would not interpret them literally personally. I've also heard Artemis by Stephanie Budin is good, though I haven't read it myself. I've simply heard this from other worshippers of Artemis. As for online resources, as always, Theoi.com is a great place to find very basic information about Artemis as a goddess. It doesn't include much worship information, but you can likely find out more traditional ways of worship by looking into her ancient cults, if that interests you.
If any of my followers know of any good resources on Artemis, please feel free to let me know! I'd love to give Nonny a solid place to start.
I hope this helps! I wish you luck on your new journey. I wish you well! Take care, and have a good day/night. 🧡
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Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.16
Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader
Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga
Warnings: None
A warm summer breeze blew over me and tickled my skin. As soon as I entered the old training field, once used for both mages and specialists, I could see that everything was in such a dilapidated state that attempting to clean anything was a task no one could accomplish alone.
The sword-fighting area was completely overgrown. Some flowers have even dug through the hard soil and bloomed on the ground, which has seen more blood than most battlefields.
Saddest of all is the location for target training, where easy-to-build golems once simulated combat. The place is completely covered, but the roof had long since collapsed, so the weather had made things difficult for the poor golems. They look in bad shape, and their power cores seem empty for a long time. This is truly unfortunate, as these golems were built to grow with each fighter who uses them for training, helping them improve their skills.
My heart aches as I see all this, for this was once one of the few prides my family still has outside of our planet and empire, which is why it hurts me so much to see it in such chaos. With turbulent feelings, I just let myself fall to the ground into the soft, warm grass. As I lie there, I play with the grass and even pick a few of the colorful flowers.
After waiting a few minutes, I start making some flower crowns to pass the time. I even ignore the first steps that get closer and closer to where I lie peacefully in the grass.
I know those arrogant snobs will whine when they see the dilapidated state of the place, with broken pillars, massive stones lying all over the ground, and the literally impossible to fight upon uneven ground.
And as if I was waiting for the cue, not too far away, I could hear the first few people complaining about not being dressed for a trip into the supposed "wilderness."
Their ignorance annoys me to no end. Why were they so problematic about things like this? For my own good, I ignore them and continue to relax on the green floor. A few flower crowns sit on my chest.
I can once again feel disapproving looks on me. For some reason, they start to get to me in ways they've never done before, perhaps because it feels more disrespectful since they're doing it on grounds built by my ancestors. An area that only listens to me.
Out of nowhere, a hand suddenly appears in my field of vision. The skin structure is flawless except for a scar that is almost invisible at this point. But my anger, simmering deep within me, wouldn't let me take his hand. So I jumped back to my feet without help, the flower crowns hanging on my left hand.
I didn't even look back to see how Cory reacted to my simple but effective refusal to take his hand. As in ancient traditions, if a King or his Heir does not accept the helping hand of one of his knights, he is in disgrace or on the way there.
I leisurely walk to the stands, carefully setting down the freshly made flower wreaths before I finally turn around and face the few hundred people intently staring at me.
The few teachers who came with the classes look down on me as much as the students. What in the name of the red darkness is wrong with these people?
I had to close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing to calm myself down because their vile behavior is starting to get on my nerves. I wonder how far their faces will fall when they find out I never did anything wrong. Just the idea puts another smile on my face. It quickly turns into a sinister grin that seems to unnerve the others.
“Then can we get started?”
The teachers look at each other. Except that Saladin steps forward as the others seem unwilling to test me. With a crack of his staff on the ground, which he magically hardened, he says, "We chose Artheon to-"
“No,” I say without hesitation. "I want to fight the three idiots who 'captured' me. We'll see how far they get when I have a weapon, too." My sinister smile only grew, bringing chills to most that I could see their face sweating profusely.
Even Saladin seems unsettled by my authoritative manner of speaking. I don't even know where it came from. Maybe because I don't feel like I belong to any of their factions and therefore view the older teachers as mere human beings and not as authority figures? Or maybe even their complete disregard for my person? Who knows?
Anyway, I turn away from them and stare in the direction of the three idiots.
“You first!” I point directly at the purple-haired guy.
He steps forward, teeth clenched, a fierce anger in his eyes so blazing it makes me want to fight him even more. As he approached, the others backed away, led by their teachers. The girls were taken to the dilapidated stands. Most of them look disgusted at the dirty or broken stones, which makes my anger flare up again.
“Look here!” The bold guy suddenly called out to me. Two green daggers in his hands.
“That’s a joke, right?” I ask quietly, looking him up and down. My eagerness to fight him died when I saw his weapons. His footing is good, but I could already see that the uneven ground would be problematic for him. “Do you need more stable ground?” I ask him directly, my left eyebrow raised questioningly.
He scoffs and is ready to say something, but then he loses his balance as he tries to change his position just a little.
I roll my eyes. The only thing I want is to watch him eat dirt, but I also want no one to be able to say it was unfair when I wipe the floor with his stupid face. So, instead of reaching for the weapon Cory brought, which he is holding out to me, I close my eyes. The people actively watching start chatting quickly, talking about me again, and nothing flattering.
But everyone's eyes immediately widened when I opened mine again. Pure magic flows through my veins and shows itself in the intense brown glow of my eyes. I could feel the entire training ground buried under soil and plants. As I feel everything up and down to ensure I have everything under my control, the whole place suddenly shook under the power of my magic. Fear coursed through everyone who saw the extent of my abilities.
“Stay still!” I shout to my first opponent. He's shaking more than the others, obviously scared out of his mind.
As I expected, he didn't stop but tries to escape the violent quake. I didn't let him out of my sight. Even when he finally freezes, as it becomes clear to him that I'm peeling away the dirt from the cut stone underneath and don't want to attack him.
His eyes widen in shock. Suddenly, tons of dirt literally pour into the air. Magic and dirt swirl around us. Soon, a massive shadow hangs over our heads as the small arena beneath us is clean again. A rectangular flat surface appears: the stones are pure white marble, from my home world, as this stone is almost indestructible.
Usually, this stone is a single slab forming a ground. But here, they have been cut into large individual bricks. There is a staircase with three steps around the edges. It makes it appear like a small fighting pit.
The only dirt left is under my opponent's feet and under my own. Since he's still frozen solid, I take the first step. As soon as I left the dirt, it swung up and crashed into the other flying dirt.
Even after this spectacle, the other didn't move, even though he had seen what he had to do. So that the last bit of dirt can finally leave this field that once produced some of the best fighters in the magic and specialist fields.
It got so annoying that I was almost ready to walk up to the guy and knock him off the little platform he is standing on, only for him to suddenly step off the platform himself as I only have taken one step toward him. As soon as he did that, the dirt makes its way up.
When all the dirt was finally together, I let the lump fly to the side, to a spot on the opposite side of the benches where I have already placed two pieces of columns that once stood proudly and held up the roof of an outbuilding. I use this to keep the dirt separate from the rest of the place, as I don't want any more work to be done in the future.
"He didn't even use a spell," one of the teachers muttered. One I hadn't seen before. A peculiar man with pointy ears and a terrible fashion sense. His eyes were curious, not a hint of contempt on his face.
And here I was, always thinking elves were the arrogant ones. How foolish of me.
His little comment even makes me blush. It was hard training that I had to go through to do that. My magic teacher, a two-star grandmaster in the field of earth magic, an eccentric, strict man, but he taught me well. After I did it, he confessed to being jealous because it had taken him almost a hundred years to learn it, while I did it within four years.
Back then, I still had to think about the magic, the effect, and the spell. These days, I only need to know what I want to do.
The only problem is that the magic used for this is not fairy magic but regular magic, in which I'm far more competent than I could ever dream to be at my inherited fairy magic.
However, the situation is different with fairy magic, as this form of magic is bound within one's self and cannot be strengthened by the surrounding magic. And even among fairies, there are differences. Ordinary fairies can only use their own magic, but guardian fairies can draw on their planet's magic.
While other fairies, such as protectors or healers, have powerful magic in their respective areas, guardian fairies are exceptionally powerful, so much so that they defy logic and push the boundaries of nature itself.
While a healer fairy can defeat disease, guardian fairies can stop global disasters.
“Thanks,” I murmur quietly, rather embarrassed by the compliment.
But the teacher stares absentmindedly into space, seemingly far away in his thoughts.
Taken aback by this, I turn my attention to the purple-haired guy, still shaking slightly.
“Do you need a moment, Purple?” I ask. “If so, Blondie can take your place in the first fight,” I continue to tease him.
The guy stares at me with his violet eyes, glowing at me in silent anger. His teeth gritted, strengthening the feeling of his rage. If he had been any other guy, I might have been softer. But I'm just worried about whether I can stop myself from killing him.
“I knew you are still afraid of me,” he says suddenly. His angrily clenched teeth have turned into a wide grin.
Suddenly, the guy takes out the two small pieces of metal. I didn't even notice that he put them away. Still, I feel the need to make fun of him. But when I open my mouth, out of those two pieces of metal come out the two green blades I saw before. My desire to make fun of him only increased. He has such a big mouth and yet such small weapons.
Suddenly, I could see a similar weapon. An older man, probably a teacher with a face of five hundred years of rain, extends his hand to me. For a second, I look over at Corey. Silently, I wonder if he gave the man the weapon, but he only stares at me blankly. The moment I take it from him, the man is already walking away. I look at it from all sides, but I couldn't figure out how to use it. So I tap on anything that seems strange, but nothing happens.
The teacher quickly returns, turns the metal over, and activates it. A yellow blade comes out that is the size of a long sword. It feels strange in my hand, too light.
“Ready!” the same man suddenly shouts, startling me.
His words take me out of my thoughts. I move the sword in front of me. Just from this small movement, I can tell that the sword is too light for me. But I still get into position. My eyes fixed on my opponent the whole time. Even from a distance, I could see that while his stance is pretty shaky, he still has significant potential to master his weapons. It's a shame he obviously never received any real training outside of the academy. Although, a year can only do so much.
“And go!“
[Masterlist]
#x male reader#male reader#winx club#winx saga#winx saga x male reader#brandon x male reader#brandon#sky x male reader#sky#riven#riven x male reader#winx club x male reader#series#fairy prince
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Now hear me out:
Mer person reader (can be a smaller fish species or something like a crab) who happens to stumble out of their little safe haven, which had a very small entrance only they could fit in, and come across the twins (or just Floyd)
OR
Reader is kept as a pet in a fish tank/bowl and is stuck with the Leech twins, forced to be a temporary snack. D:
Hehe, bye~ *rolls out until they come back with new idea*
- 🌽 anon
lmao what if I can't decide which idea is better and just combine both ahaha
Includes: soft/safe vore, unwilling prey
★✦Yummy Crab...✦★
☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ
You're a crab merperson... a rather rare sight, but hey, you're fine being lonely. Kinda peaceful, actually. You live in a cave with a tiny entrance that only you can really fit through. You like it! It's snug and cozy, and you're completely safe and protected in there!
...
Or at least... you were.
One day, when you decided to leave your little cave to go get some food, you got grabbed by someone...
"Oh my... now what do we have here?" It was a moray, so... you basically assumed you were going to die right then and there.
"Ooooo~! A tasty little crab!!" There were two of them. Identical. "C'mon, c'mon, let's eat it! It looks so good~!"
"Hang on, Floyd. Let's think about this for a moment... I have a much better idea for us."
That smile. That stupid smile. You would, unfortunately, get very used to that stupid, sinister smile.
You've been in a tank on land for the past year. At least those stupid twins constantly make sure you're healthy and comfortable... and they make sure you have good food, so... at least they know how to take care of you.
But it's not like that makes your situation any better...
After all, you're basically a pet, and not to mention a-
"Little craaaab~~! Hehe, I'm baaaaack~!!" You're grabbed out of the tank quite roughly.
"What do you want, Floyd?" You sigh, kicking your little segmented legs. You would pinch him... if you had claws. You see, being a crab merperson, you don't really have claws like a crab would, you have arms in their place. Really unfortunate, given your circumstance.
"I'm hungry is what's going on, little crab."
"Again???"
"Yes, again! Maaan, do you not know how hunger works~?" He holds you close to his face.
"Of course I know what hunger is... but you and your brother don't always have to eat me... you could eat actual food." You roll your eyes, already being stuffed into his mouth.
"Oh shush, I eat actual food... I just like eating you too~"
It's hard for him to actually fit all of you in there, but unluckily for you, he's got a second pair of teeth to help with that...
And just like that, there you go, all the way in, and swallowed.
"Theeere we go~" Floyd sighs and pats his stomach. "I'm nice and full... and you're safe and comfy~!"
"I wouldn't say 'comfy'... or safe."
"Whatever, you know I wouldn't hurt ya~!" He pauses. "...mostly because Jade would get mad at me... but regardless~! You know you don't have anything to worry about~!!"
You look around, already starting to get a bit bored... I mean, there's not much to do in here, is there?
"Can I at least have some water in here?"
"Comin' right up~!"
That's right. At least they're not actively trying to kill you...
So, when you think about it, you could definitely be in a much worse scenario...
...
But you're still allowed to be angry about it.
#woah!! anon i can identify!!#soft vore#safe vore#twst vore#twisted wonderland vore#gt vore#floyd leech#v.ore#v/ore#v0re#sfw vore#🌽 anon
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AND ON THE NEXT ROUND OF DINO PSYCHOANALYZING ITS BBG XGASTER; Underverse .5
Of course this whole SCENE is ripe full of content for these two, but there's one thing I can't help but notice.
XGaster's smile.
Watch it. Go rewatch the entire scene, and tell me when XGaster is smiling and when he's not. /nf
...
If you guessed "He smiles only at Ink or when he's talking about his plans" DING DING DING !!! CORRECT.
If you said anything else, shame on you, this is an xvials acc, what do you expect. /j /lh
This is the first time they actively get to talk to each other since XGaster gave Ink the part of his SOUL.
And I'm very fucking serious about this. He frowns at XChara, he frowns when Fresh gets mentioned, and he frowns towards the end of this video.
Lets talk about the present first. XGaster is smiling at Ink, he truely is, grinning down at them with absolute admiration, and when they ask him to come closer... He does! But what Ink asks him for, doesn't make him smile. In fact he frowns, but he's not unwilling, handing the box off to them with little hesitance.
He continues to smile in the next angle, however, smirking at Ink, but the jab about his legs makes him lose his rigid composure, until inevitably... he's scowling about what they say, but also because Ink's gone, staring at the place where they just were.
So we know two things; One, he most definitely smiles at Ink, hinting at a positive connection within his mind for them.
And two, XGaster is going to leave Ink behind.
I know, record scratch, but...
This is the most realistic take I have, and it's just as equally heart wrenching, but it's true. In the earlier part of the scene, he talks about how he doesn't need the Player and is perfectly capable of working in complete confidence.
There's been several hints as to the fact that XGaster is going to abandon people... most notably Ink.
I can't deny it anymore, XGaster is working a wedge between himself and the gremlin.
I said, a long, long time ago, that XGaster seems to deliberately be pushing away the desire for Ink other people to be around, and has come to some conclusion that he doesn't need anyone else to operate his plans, especially the fact that 'Emotions distract me', Mister I-Cried-About-The-Multiverse.
I also made the comparison for the 21 years comic, that Ink was just a convience, but that makes me wonder if he's purposely lying to himself.
And, he is.
He's infact lying to himself. We know he cares about Ink, We know he harbours something like... paternal affection, for the XChildren. We know he harbours feeling for the Multiverse too! He's creating this wall around himself, shoving everyone he cares about outside.
It slips in, however, bits and pieces, here and there. He likes having XChara around regardless of his antagonizing nature. He even gave him back his adult body. Why go through the trouble of that? Why go through the trouble of doing a favour for ink?
WHY GO THROUGH THE TROUBLE OF PULLING CROSS FROM A DIFFICULT SITUATION WHEN HE JUST WANTED TO GIVE UP?
WHY LOOK AT INK'S FATHERS IN .6? WHY IS HE AFRAID OF THEM? WHY WOULD HE NOT WANT TO MEET THEM...?
...
Core even mentioned he likes trees, they even set him up underneath one...
...
He's lying to himself about his feelings. He's lying, and he's also destroying himself to achieve some asinine goal, and he needs someone to tear him away from the brink of self-destruction.
Ink and XGaster are bound to fight. Ink and XGaster are bound to be on opposite ends. There's no stopping it.
But they're also bound together. They have something that NEITHER of them are willing to break. I'm sure of it, Ink will be the most difficult thing he will have to push away, whether he passes it off as completely collected or not. He's going to break like an egg about them.
For something more light hearted though, because my little heart yearns for them; XGaster's indignant reaction to Ink talking about his legs is so funny... 😭😭😭 and Ink knew he was getting almost annoyed by it and just left. They're aware of each other, they find each other special, 'Is there anything you can't do?', 'I never told him, but I really admire him.', the silly goobers are so in love.
Alright, thanks for reading, eat a snack, drink some water, and rest well. Next time on Dino's super indepth analysis, I'll talk about THAT scene in .7
#dinosaurzzz rambles#dino is losing his shit(?)#dino goes ill over xvials again#ink sans#xgaster#xvials#underverse#xtaleunderverse#xtale
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hot take: the kind of partner satoru needs
so i kind of wrote my opinion on the kind of partner gojo satoru needs and for some reason everyone really seemed to like it (even though i was literally just ranting. i love you all so much.) but now i'm here to elaborate because i feel like some things weren't specific enough. (i'll leave the actual post linked above!)
when i say he needs someone soft, i absolutely do not mean someone who is a pushover or is super insecure with themselves. if you can't be confident in yourself, you won't be able to help anyone else do the same, right?
i mean soft in personality, yes, but they also have to be firm to a certain extent. otherwise satoru's pushing them back and forth, this way and that, and there's no actual development on his part or in the relationship?
the point is that he's unwilling to change, really. so if someone drops in his life and asks him to change with a pretty please thrown in, you can bet that it doesn't mean anything to him.
he needs someone who knows when to push and when to back off. and then when to kinda nudge him again. it's not a "i'll lay myself completely bare so you can observe and never do the same."
it should be more like a one by one thing. i tell you this about myself so now you trust me enough to tell me one thing about you. and the cycle continues until they're at a point where he can fully trust them and be willing to open up to them.
opening up to someone, especially when you have trauma (which satoru does) is not easy. like not easy at all. there's guilt and shame for opening up, and overthinking and why did i do that. what if they tell someone. they're just gonna leave again. what's the point. and that's just barely scratching the surface. he's already lost his best friend, so you can bet that it would be super difficult for him to reach even that level of trust with someone again. i wouldn't blame him if he started shutting people out or kept people at arm's length because that's just his defense system speaking.
I can say this from experience. when someone who you consider to be your best friend leaves, you are going to feel betrayed and you are going to feel hurt. all things considered, he handled their "break-up" pretty well. especially when you see that he still considers suguru to be his best friend. that's a very forgiving thing of satoru to do. and i haven't finished reading the manga yet, but as far as i know, we don't really get a glimpse into satoru's head of why he chose to do that or if it took him time to heal from that or anything. he and suguru went to school together. they grew up together. it wasn't just a few months thing. it was multiple years. so it was bound to hurt ten times more when he left, but satoru didn't seem to hold a grudge much. (except for the whole killing thing, but like... it's whatever. oh, and the impersonation of suguru when he was yelling about feeling stuff in his soul. good times.)
anyway, aside from that, to accept that suguru's gone, to know that yourself, to forgive yourself for "not being enough" and whatever else gets in your head during times like that, and to forgive the person who left is not a small feat. that's like years of healing. (it took me almost two years to forgive my closest ex-friend who was there for less than six months and ended up leaving. so to imagine being in satoru's position is crazy. but time really does heal everything.)
i need you all to understand this.
he. has. trauma.
and that's why so many people have the urge to "fix" him. he's one of those emotionally unavailable men and for some reason we all go crazy when we see someone like that. we all want to be the one to be able to fix him, but you know what, investing all your energy into fixing someone can leave you broken. that's not what you want.
it's so important for satoru to be with someone who they themself are mentally healthy or else this is just a cycle of who can screw each other over the most/fastest. you need to overcome your own demons to help someone else face theirs. you can't become his therapist because that builds unhealthy patterns in relationships where you constantly feel like nothing more than a brick wall. stand there. listen. give advice. repeat. reader is going to feel less like a partner and more like a medical professional.
so again give him someone to come home to, someone who cares, someone who will not betray or leave him. someone he can have to fool around with. someone who he can say it's us against the world to. someone who listens when he does need to vent and vice versa. give him a partner, not a therapist. (send him to therapy first though. then the partner comes in.)
again give him someone soft but someone who will not take any excuses from him when it comes to his healing. give him someone who cares so much that he has to put himself back together to be with them. give him someone who motivates him to be a better person because he doesn't want to lose anyone else and if they leave then that means that he's lost (but it doesn't mean that he's lost everything. because life has to mean more than one person. he has to be worth more than just one person. and honestly all he needs is a little shove in the right direction to understand it.)
so maybe their relationship isn't entirely romantic. or maybe the romance comes years later, after he's healed. maybe this is not a story of romance and love at all. maybe this a story of light and healing. let him find his way home but let him stand on his own two feet and do it himself.
#jjk#jjk headcanons#jjk gojo#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#jujutsu kaisen satoru#gojo satoru x reader#procrastinated on this for like a week#but i finally feel like i've said what i need to say#yeah tumblr is telling me that i've been working on this for a whole week#꒰ i forgot that you existed. ꒱
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Hello, I have an issue and I don't really have anyone to talk to about that specific thing. I stopped waxing my body hair two years ago when I stumbled across radical feminism on tumblr, and it's been amazing! My confidence is through the roof and I stopped caring about men. Except. For the body hair. I mean, I still don't shave or anything. But I have very thick body hair due to hormonal issues and repeated waxing/shaving since I was 12. Especially on my chin where I have very thick duvet. I caved and allowed my mother to pay for laser hair removal. But it makes me crazy because I want to do it all over now. I used to swim regularly but I lost my only swimsuit where my "luscious" pubic hair was not visible (kind of... it basically goes halfway down my thigh) and they are really rare and expensive, most swimsuits are basically pubic hair out. And even while I had that one, I was very uncomfortable with my armpit hair which is literally longer than my hair. I have my hair until my ears but still, that's really long. Do you have advice, or I don't know really, stuff to make me change my mind about pubic/armpit hair and laser hair removal? I know it's not good for skin, causes skin cancer I think? But I feel so alone and idk, like a hairy beast. It gets lonely.
Ah I can relate to being scrutinized and judged in public for your body hair, even if I don't have the extra hormonal, but I remember struggling to feel normal and always feeling like I'm being watched.
I can only offer a part of what helped me: there's actually no law stating that you have to wear a woman's swimming suit on the beach or anywhere else. I wear swimming trunks and a whole t-shirt when I'm swimming and nobody has said one word to me, and I've felt super comfortable in those! It's not very eye-drawing and it's great for a transition before you are able to feel comfortable - or in some cases, if there's males around, I understand never being able to feel comfortable because they will objectify you, but that has nothing to do with your body hair, that's just the way they are.
But you don't have to wear swimming clothing that's been designed for male fantasies and fetishes, you can absolutely make or get something that makes you comfortable and un-selfconscious.
It does take years and years to become comfortable with body hair, even the normal amount. I remember at one point realizing that what I'm having, the full body hair, is normal, and being completely shaved and bare is weird, mimicking children's immature bodies, and also making your body vulnerable to infections and diseases, as well as causing discomfort. Most of body hair we have is so that our skin wouldn't chafe together, to make our movement more comfortable! So seeing women shaved naked makes me uncomfortable, I know they're undergoing discomfort, itching, bleeding, chafing, prickling and all other stuff that comes with shaving. Seeing a woman with full body hair just makes me relax and I feel so happy that she's comfortable too. Being completely shaved to me is a sign of oppression.
And later when I became even more comfortable, the thought of being a bit more repulsive and unpalatable to males made me happy. It's slightly harder to objectify a woman who is fully comfortable and unwilling to mimic a child's body with her own. So I'm displaying full freedom from their desires in front of them and don't have to care. I am however, still sad for all the women who can't do it, and are undergoing discomfort only to be slightly more palatable to their oppressors.
I don't know if my opinions can help you see it in a different way at all, it was a long journey for me, and the best I can say is, take your time. It's okay if it takes a decade to feel fully comfortable, I believe that you'll get there! There's nothing but comfort and joy waiting for you at the end of it.
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