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hazelnut-u-out · 1 year

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My "Morty Deserves More Relevance" rant:

My main criticism of S6 of “Rick and Morty” so far is that Morty hasn’t had nearly enough relevance to the season on any front for one of the two main protagonists.

I could probably excuse this if the show had been rather Rick-focused for the majority of its run, but the show has been about BOTH of these characters since the get-go.

I’m not someone that generally tries to hide my Morty bias. I relate to Morty in a lot of ways, and I don’t think that’s uncommon.

I think that the writers currently have more of a Rick bias (or, at least, find it more important to tell his story or show things more in terms of how they effect him).

I want to preface this by saying that I DO believe that Rick has a right to heal, grow, and get better. I guess I’m just saying that it’s not on us to forgive him.

I think that the writers kind of needed to put Morty to the side for a bit– to have him pushed into the background in favor of Rick– because it’s really difficult to begin to empathize with/feel bad for an abuser when the impact of their behavior on their victim is staring you right in the face.

(I rewatched the series to make this post, and GOD is some of Rick's behavior downright sickening and inexcusable in seasons 1-4...)

I don’t think that anyone else can forgive Rick for what he’s done to Morty. Only Morty can do that.

Again, I’m not saying that Rick doesn’t deserve the right to heal, but I don’t think that he should get to dictate the pace of the healing in their dynamic. I think this is why I have a hard time feeling bad for Rick in terms of Morty developing agency.

Rick most definitely deserves sympathy and support for what happened to him before he came into Morty’s life, but I have to say that I find Morty’s story a lot more tragic than Rick’s. Morty’s story is one about child abuse– about becoming a victim and having your identity swallowed alive as it’s dictated by the actions of an abuser.

Take the events of “Forgetting Sarick Mortshall,” for example. I think this is one of the episodes that really puts into perspective the extent of Morty’s trauma bond with Rick, and how that can manifest in a victim. When you’re a victim of an abuser, one of the only avenues of control you have is deciding whether to stay in the situation or leave. That is literally all Morty has. He tries to put his foot down only for Rick to “cold shoulder” him, which is ultimately just another manipulation tactic. He wanted Morty to be afraid of losing the only real connection he has left. That’s how narcissistic abuse works: they isolate you from every other reliable relationship in your life so that you are entirely dependent upon their approval. When Rick drops the bombshell at the end of the episode that he’s going to be leaving with the crows, that literally strips Morty of any control he had at all. Morty is left with absolutely NO choice anymore- not even to cooperate with Rick or not.

When something like that happens to a victim– when an abuser decides that they are the one who gets to dictate healing and growth– it’s technically within their rights to leave, grow, and heal, but it strips the victim of the only sense of autonomy that was left intact for them. It’s like one last vengeful powerplay, and we can see that play out in Morty’s decisions thereafter.

We see him desperately grasp for any control of the situation back, because he (the VICTIM) wasn’t ready for this to happen, yet.

I’m not saying that Morty isn’t a flawed character, but I think that a lot of people tend to forget about the fact that he is a CHILD, who wouldn’t otherwise be involved in the morally gray situations he’s in if he hadn’t been consistently neglected, used, and abused.

Every fucked up thing that Morty has done has been as a child who, truthfully, doesn’t know better because of the way his worldview has been consistently skewed. He’s put in these situations time and time again that force him to stray from his own moral compass. Rick even goes out of his way (like in “The Vat of Acid Episode”) to intentionally manipulate Morty into thinking that anything he wants to do that would stray from what Rick thinks is best will only result in more harm to other people.

There are other episodes that enforce this kind of philosophy (straying from Rick’s corrupt set of rules and regulations must be the only way to prevent death and destruction– even though that often means actively choosing death and destruction at face value), such as “Mortynight Run,” “Auto Erotic Assimilation,” etc.

Rick, on the other hand, is the adult in the situation. Everything fucked up Rick has done throughout the course of the show was done as an adult, who most definitely DID know better.

The core of this show is literally a “hardened adult meets naive child” trope, and I think that a lot of people have lost sight of the reason that Rick’s healing should feel so satisfying in the long run. The whole point of rooting for Rick’s healing in the first place is set up to be about giving Morty the grandpa he deserves. Morty basically has no one in his corner other than Rick, and Rick is riddled with an inky sickness that bleeds and infects Morty with every movement of his character that is too quick or abrasive. It’s important to give Morty the chance to view the world as an actual child might while he still has a bit of that innocence left inside of him– in the same way it’s important to give Rick the opportunity to foster that innocence instead of crush it for once.

I think that a lot of people (writers included) have started to view Rick’s “Crybaby Backstory” as an excuse for his shitty behavior over the first 5 seasons, when there really aren’t any valid excuses for what he’s put Morty through. There are only reasons that he did what he did, not excuses. Viewing these reasons as excuses for child abuse means that some people inevitably view the situation as not requiring communication, confessions, and apologies in order to right Rick’s wrongs with Morty– but those things are NEEDED in order for this to feel EARNED. Changing and growing without acknowledging the effort and will to change with the needs, wants, and feelings of the victim taken into account isn’t really conducive to change or growth in ANY character.

99.9% of abusers exist within a cycle of trauma, and this plays a huge reason in why I have such a difficult time letting Rick’s trauma serve as a satisfying excuse for his actions towards Morty.

I feel like a lot of the same people who allow Rick’s past to serve as an excuse are the same people who tend to hold Morty 100% accountable, but I would go out on the line to say that Morty’s actions are almost always more excusable than Rick’s. While being an adult who was traumatized but knew better isn’t a reasonable excuse, it IS a reasonable excuse to be a traumatized child who doesn’t know any better.

A good example of this would be in “Solaricks” when Cronenberg Jerry calls Morty out for leaving them and talking about them like they weren’t people. It’s pretty obvious that the audience is supposed to agree with Jerry here, but it falls flat for me. Nothing about that situation was actually Morty’s fault, ESPECIALLY the initial leaving of the Prime Dimension in “Rick Potion No. 9.” Rick was the adult in that situation, and Morty couldn’t have known better if he’d wanted to.

Morty is an insert character for anyone who has ever been abused/manipulated as a child, and I think that it’s not only a disservice to Morty, but also all of those people who connected with his journey, to essentially erase any relevance his feelings had to the plot of the show. I think that completely setting his relevance to the show aside was a real mishandle of his character by the writers. I understand that it would have made an exploration of Rick’s character progression feel less linear and clean cut, but I can’t say that I wouldn’t want to see Morty gain some agency in his relationship with Rick. I genuinely don’t care that Morty’s character progression has pushed him to be less compliant and more stand-offish with Rick, even if Rick is actively changing. Morty deserves to be angry. That would have felt earned– and it would have made Rick’s development towards being a more soft/docile familial figure and someone who cares about doing the right/noble thing a lot more earned, too.

Sometimes, growth is hard. Getting better is hard. It’s so challenging to move on from being an abuser because it’s one of the most difficult things in the world to look at the carnage you’ve left in your wake and actively pick up the pieces of the people you’ve broken. It sucks to have to face your actions and realize that no one is obligated to forgive you, and that you don’t get to spend an indefinite amount of time being an abuser and then expect to dictate when people feel bad for you. That’s ultimately what’s fair, though, because you aren’t the victim.

It’s unfair for Morty to not get to share his opinion on the matter all that much when the audience’s opinion of Rick shifts to something more positive and soft. We should at least get to see some of how this has effected Morty in the present.

Morty deserves his own “Morty goes to therapy” episode. Morty deserves his own solo scenes where he lumbers off to his room and breaks down. Morty deserves to be sad and broken and irreparably damaged in the eyes of the audience as much as Rick does. I love Rick– I really, really do– but I think that part of loving Rick is rooting for his relationship with Morty to get better, too– and the reality of how all of this is effecting Morty as an equal has been a bit lost this season.

I hope that we get a more Morty-centric season next season, or at least a good handful of Morty-centric episodes that push Rick to the background in favor of Morty’s perspective to balance everything out.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #blurb

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samus-arans-sweaty-pits · 8 months

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cw: christian-facist upbringing and all the baggage that comes with it.

i suppose i can get a *bit* excessive when it comes to terfs. i can recognize we're both groups who are - in one way or another - pressured to conform in a way that can put us as individuals above the "other". however. when i chose to live my truth, i gave up that safety net. i threw away any chance of being one of the oppressors (in a way that let me keep my rights and a heel on the necks of others). and i never looked back. that choice led me to be homeless. i wound up in a cult and dating a black trans woman. she was abusive and manipulative. but she was a woman. and she taught more than i ever learned in my old life. i learned about her struggles. i'd leave our tent first so the cops wouldn't harm her. i was always there so to be a witness to any abuse (as i knew my testimony would be taken more seriously). i learned more in those few years than my entire time with my family and in the "education" system combined.

all this to say, when i see people turning on their own, it sickens me to my core. when i see queer or poc cop, it turns my stomach. when i see a terf it makes my blood boil. because at the end of the day, there is no valid justification to put your heel the necks of your own. there is no reality i will ever accept where harming your fellow women is anything but true cowardice. there are cis women harmed by terf ideology - especially women of color. even if you hate men to the extent that you include trans women and exclude trans men, if you're truly willing to let cis women become collateral in your vengeance, there is actively no valid excuse for what you are doing (trans people are their identity but i recognize it is necessary to meet bigots at their ideology level to at least understand their warped view on reality). one of my mentors is a gay Jewish woman. one who marched along side mlk. she fought for OUR rights. not just trans. not just queer. not just poc's. she fought for OUR rights. and it disgusts me to know there are people who benefit from her work who choose find allies with the people who sought her eradication. if you have any self-awareness and identify as a terf or gender critical. i implore you. think of the actual activists who have suffered assault fighting for OUR rights. the people who died against the very fascists you side with to keep some of us from having any rights.

we are all minorities fighting for what little we have. and we all deserve as much as the people in power. and to side with them for a chance to get a piece of the pie is despicable and cowardly.

if you're a queer in the usa, all of your rights are because of black trans people. and even if you're not. you have no right to erase poc trans people from our history. and doing so makes you as bad as any other group that would erase that history. and that makes you a despicable enemy.

#christian #fascist #cw #tw #cw terf #tw terf #drunk and passionate #if we are not allies #then i pity you for your cowardice #politics #us politics #leftist #i'm so tired #of people trying to justify siding with white supremacy

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iiratix · 2 years

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Can I request something like romantic/fluff oneshot about white from tower of God cuddling with reader? Thank you

Safe Place

Where White is a hopeless one when it comes to a certain regular

"White."

"Hmh?"

"You're going to kill me for tower's sake." Despite the complaint, White merely tightens his grip around their waist, leaving the regular to exhale in lamentation.

Albeit odd, there was no doubt that the one that demands a cuddle at this very point, is the malicious slayer. With his long white hair that reached by his feet, an iconic pair of endless, hollow white eyes, staring aimlessly towards the future that was clogged up by the mist of insularity. Only times could tell how lonesome he was feeling, until a brave, courageous regular came face to face with him. A familiar sight of childhood, a familiar face he could not forget.

"Hoaqin, loosen your grip, you're killing me for sure." Again, another wave of complaint escaped through their lips. White huffed a bit by this, hesitantly loosened up. A wistful sigh escapes from their lips, glancing towards the slayer that currently have his head against the crook of their neck.

"Ironically, I can't believe I stumbled upon you in this pitiful form, Hoaqin."

"You're such a child." They uttered out, reaching towards his white locks, playing a strand of them in between their fingers. A hum vibrated from White throat, snuggling close to the one place he feels warm.

He has no remorse, a slayer such as him would not feel the slightest tremor of guilt as he bathed in the blood of others. Instead, he found an unnerving joy from underneath. A writhing, fleeting feeling of something, a proof of his entire existence. There's not a single place where he couldn't heard of his name; whispered out in a tremendous terror and fright by other regulars. He feels delighted, even giddy at the thought he's well known. He could care less whether they know him out of pure and sickening twisted fear, as long as they acknowledge his existence, he's more than satisfied.

However, at times like this, he can't help but wonder. Can someone such as him, who has been tainted by the blood of others, be in an embrace of someone who's much more innocent?

Well, he's not saying, they are entirely one. They might commit some chaos from one place to another, however, it never goes to such an extent as creating an entire battlefield due to their manipulative mind. Instead, they're much more pacifist than he is.

"Y/n..." The way he uttered out their name was filled with adoration. There's no snide tone, no vicious tone, just adoration and gentleness.

The said regular hummed in response, threading through his hair, as they have been there for quite some time. Hell, they have been there for a few hours. Legs tangled together, body pressed close to another, in a comforting manner, with the peaceful silence that befallen against the two of them.

"I adore you." He confessed, lashes fluttering open to raise his head up, facing the direction of an amused regular.

A pair of e/c eyes that stared ahead at his eyes that have a close resemblance to an agate white stone. They leaned down to give a kiss on his forehead. "I know." Was all they said to his confession, some would've say their answers are way too curt. However for White, it is enough to fill in the uncertainty.

He enjoyed every single moment, the way their lips pressed against his skin gave a shiver by his spine. He was unused to such displays. Ever since they were a child, whereas they're nothing but a pair of childhood friends, their words of affirmation are what fuelled him to keep on going. Now, can many blame him for being emotionally attached? More than he sought to himself?

"Hoaqin." The mentioned male once again hummed, absorbed by the warmth and attention that he rarely received from his own family. "Stop whatever you are doing." He furrowed his brows the moment he heard that, snuggling close, lips pressing against their collarbone.

"I cannot do so." White commented, giving another kiss by their shoulder blade. "You can." But, Y/n isn't the type to back away from this as well. They reached out to give a light scratch by his scalp, carefully grazing their nails against it. If White were a cat, by now, he would be purring automatically.

"It's hard."

"I know."

White feels drowsy, every action that they did to him brings him to a peaceful place. His heart swelled in warmth, underneath his skin coarse an adrenaline, pumping through his blood cells. He leaned his head close, feeling Y/n put their hand on top of his.

"Even if I stop, many would still hunt me down... You'll be in potential danger." Y/n snorted, it was baseless thought, but it's enough to prove how much he wishes for their own safety.

"Ever since I stumbled on a path with you, I've been in potential danger, can you specify what kind of other danger that I will hypothetically find myself in?" White fell silent. The gear inside of his mind starts to work in each possibility.

If that were the case, they might use Y/n as some sort of a hostage. No, he can't let that happen, honestly. One thing for certain, if they all dared to lay a finger or harm them in the slightest, he would not hesitate to bring calamities upon the tower. If given the chance to, he will bring this entire place down to hell with him, if it means it was for the safety of them.

"That won't happen." White retorted, childishly, cradled by Y/n who's messing around with his hair. "I say hypothetically." White irked hearing that, huffing a bit before giving a warning bite. In return, they yelped in surprise and smacked him by the head, glaring.

"I'm the great Slayer, White. Those hypothetical talks won't happen if it comes to real life." They rolled their eyes, finding him arrogant and somewhat prideful even during this moment.

"Don't worry your pretty head about this matter. As long as I am here, I'll keep you safe and sound." Y/n don't need to be telled twice about this. The grip that often holds them in the same position and place, a grip that is filled with certain power and strength, the kind of grip that tries to hold onto them. As if they're the last thread of his sanity.

"Until then, you just need to focus to stay by my side."

Those kinds of words that sound with a hidden desperation of longing. Seeking for every possibility and ounce of quality time that could be made between each other. It's hard for him to keep on track in whatever he was doing, while worrying over their safety. Heaven knows how much he adores them, how much he is willing to keep them happy and safe.

Because every rank he could've achieved won't ever be compared to the affection they have poured out on his pitiful moments. Where he lost his way and path. And there they were, waiting, smiling, shining far more bright than any light he could've seen. By then, he swore he won't let anything taint and harm that light of his.

#tower of god #kami no tou #tog #tower of god x reader #white #white x reader #gender neutral #𝙸𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚡™

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crowgreeds · 2 years

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Here’s a quick lore dump for Kaz’s pjo verse, more detail to come in time.

Kaz is a child of Nemesis, the greek goddess of balance, retribution, and vengeance. Kaz doesn’t know much about their mother growing up, but he inherited his dark hair and sharp features from her, and is also in possession of a celestial bronze dagger that she left in secret for her child to find one day.

While Kaz is a demigod it’s unclear what Jordie was but it is assumed that his brother was a normal human as typically the presence of two demigods in one place would attract undue attention even at a young age. However, Kaz’s life on his father’s farm in New York state is a quiet one and no monsters attack him during his time there.

When their father dies in a farming accident, however, Kaz and Jordie sell the farm and move to NYC in search of a better life. It doesn’t take long for the monsters to find them in the city, and an aerico, a demon of disease and misfortune makes quick work of Jordie with the plague. It almost finishes off Kaz too but they are able to fight it off though the ordeal leaves them sickened and exhausted, and they collapse upon their brother’s body where they remain unmoving for several days.

They move around a lot after that, once they have recovered enough to travel, never staying in one place long and fighting monsters as they come. It is during this time that he meets Jesper and Inej, fellow half-bloods, whom he continues to travel with until the three of them eventually make their way to camp half-blood.

As a child of Nemesis some of the abilities that Kaz holds are tychokinesis, the ability to manipulate and control luck and probability (though only on those around him, it doesn’t work on him directly), and also umbrakinesis, the ability to mentally generate and manipulate darkness around himself (that’s the extent of what they can do with it). They also can sense when another person is vengeful and want to serve justice on another.

This is obvious but he also has his mother’s same cold, cruel and ruthless tendencies in his personality lmao.

#devil’s in the details / v. pjo.#hello this is finally here hehe <3

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livbygrace · 2 years

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I’ve worked on this post for days and days. I’ve debated on how much to share and how to share it. This is something very personal, for me and my mom.

Though my mom is no longer here, I will always have the utmost respect for her. And I know that if she were here now, she would agree that it’s worth it to share this if it might save one life or change one mind. 💛

There's a copy-and-paste post making the rounds that claims to be both pro-choice and pro-life, and 13 scenarios are given that describe situations in which abortion should be justified.

The first type of scenarios reads like the beginning of my life story. They describe my mother’s situation perfectly—pregnancy as a result of abuse or assault. Here are the scenarios from the “pro-choice & pro-life” post:

“I'm pro-Susan who was sexually assaulted on her way home from work, only to come to the horrific realization that her assailant planted his seed in her when she got a positive pregnancy test result a month later.”

“I'm pro-little Cathy who had her innocence ripped away from her by someone she should have been able to trust and her 11-year-old body isn't mature enough to bear the consequence of that betrayal.”

“I'm pro-Jessica who is FINALLY getting the strength to get away from her physically abusive spouse only to find out that she is carrying the monster's child.”

The implications presented in these scenarios suggest that you can’t support women and young, innocent mothers at the same time as their pre-born babies, and that you also can't be anti-abuser and pro-baby at the same time.

But this is an obvious fallacy, and I am living proof.

Sexual assault is wrong, sickening, and horrific, and perpetrators should be punished to the full extent of the law, especially when the victim is a child. Yet, one crime committed does not justify another. Killing a baby doesn’t undo rape. Additionally, brutally ripping a baby from a poor girl’s body creates further violence and trauma.

The baby deserves life, not a death sentence for the crimes of his or her father. The father might be a monster, but that doesn’t deprive the baby of his or her right to life. If you choose not to love your child because of his or her genes, allow them to live and place them for adoption.

You probably don’t know this, but I am the product of r*pe.

My mother’s husband (my biological sperm donor) beat her, humiliated her, stalked her, pulled weapons on her, threatened to kill her, threatened to kill her family, and threatened to kill me when I was in my mother’s womb.

If he would’ve succeeded in killing my mom—and me while in her womb—he would’ve been charged with double homicide. Yet my mom could have had me killed via abortion. One means of killing is condemned and punished while the other is condoned and even supported. Something has gone very wrong.

My biological sperm donor hid in the crawlspace beneath my mom’s house for months, drug her around by her hair, locked her outside naked, threw her, threw things at her, hit her, r*ped her, accused her of *ncest, and tried to get her fired from her job, among many other horrors. Suffice it to say he was abusive, manipulative, cruel, ruthless, and evil.

He was that monster mentioned in the above scenarios.

See the picture I’ve attached of a smiling, happy little girl in a red t-shirt? That’s me.

I would've missed out on that joyous, wonderful childhood if my mom had chosen to see me as a product of abuse and aborted me.

By the way, does that innocent little girl look like a monster's seed?

I cannot thank God enough that my mother loved me and saw me as a gift from God, created for His purpose—to work good out of what was meant for evil.

My mother chose to let me live. She could have murdered me in her womb, but she saw me as an individual, separate from her abuser, and loved me dearly.

As she carried me, she thought of God’s plans for my life, not her abuser.

When she looked at me after delivering me, she saw a precious baby, not her abuser.

When I accepted Christ as Lord and Savior, she saw the beginning of His wonderful work in my life, not her abuser.

As I grew into a young woman, she saw me as me, not her abuser.

He had no part of me other than lending me a few genes.

My mom remarried when I was a child, and since then I've had a wonderful, true father who chose to adopt me when he married my mom.

HE is my dad, not my mom’s abuser.

I'm so grateful that my mom chose not to take my right to live away from me.

May we allow all children in the womb the same right to life.

The only pro- is to be pro-adoption.

See the other picture of 2 little girls snuggled up in their pj’s with their stuffed animal? That’s me and my lil sis.

If my mom would've ended my life in her womb, I would've missed out on that precious little sister!

The other photos are from Live Action and are collages of babies in the womb from 6-15 weeks. SIX WEEKS.

Take a moment to clear your mind of all presuppositions and look at those photos and tell me they are not living babies.

The site CreatedEqual.org will show you exactly what happens to cause these precious innocent lives to suffer the brutal pain of abortion. If you have not seen it, I beg you, don’t choose to remain ignorant of it.

It's not just adult women's lives that matter. Every woman's life matters, from the womb to the tomb.

There is NEVER a need for abortion. There is early delivery, there is adoption, and there is support available.

We must value every life.

We. Must. Let. Them. Live.

May we stop tearing our precious children limb from limb in their mothers’ wombs—what should be the safest place in the world.

Here are just a few resources for expectant/struggling mothers:

LetThemLive.org - Providing financial assistance, counseling, and help finding employment so expectant mothers feel able to choose life.

LoveLine.com - Providing tangible support for pregnant and single moms across the US, as well as helping single dads and married couples in crisis.

LiveInMyShoes.org - Offering shelter, food, and other support to homeless pregnant and parenting women. Based in Texas.

FriendsOfCrossroads.org - Gospel-centered clinic and counseling center for expectant mothers considering abortion. Based in Oklahoma.

ReverseAbortionPill.com - Helping mothers who are considering taking the abortion pill or those who have already taken one and regret it.

The pictures I’ve attached are one reason that people have been fighting for life for decades, because at the time that Roe v. Wade was decided, ultrasounds weren't yet available, and the technology to take such photos as these was yet unavailable.

People just DIDN'T KNOW. They believed the lie that fetuses are lifeless blobs, but now we can all see how mistaken we've been. When we know better, we should do better.

If you've fallen prey to the propaganda claiming that a fetus is nothing but a lifeless clump of cells, let today be the day that you do a 180 for life in the womb, and forgive yourself for having been unaware.

We must be willing to be brave, to take off our blinders and adapt to new truths.

We have no excuse now, so let’s begin to stand for life from this day onward. 💛

#roe versus wade #roe vs. wade #pro life #pro abortion #abortion #adoption #womens rights #healthcare

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danielryancotlerpoetry · 2 months

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Trapped in the Darkness: The Devastating Impact of Sleep Paralysis, Sleep Deprivation, and Manipulation by Frankie Zerella

In the suffocating grip of a malignant narcissist like Frankie Zerella, every moment becomes a battleground, each breath a struggle against the shadows that threaten to consume. In this comprehensive exploration, I delve into the harrowing reality of living under Frankie's tyranny, where sleep paralysis, sleep deprivation, and manipulation intertwine to wreak havoc on both work and well-being.

Frankie Zerella's tactics were nothing short of diabolical. Night after night, he would subject me to relentless accusations and interrogations, ensuring that sleep remained an elusive dream. And when sleep did come, it brought with it the terrifying specter of sleep paralysis, trapping me in a state of helpless immobility as Frankie's twisted fantasies played out before my eyes.

In one chilling video, Frankie Zerella's hand extended into the frame, hovering menacingly over my sleeping form. His fingers curled into a grotesque imitation of crushing, a macabre display of his sadistic desires. And as I lay there, paralyzed and powerless, I could hear his whispered promises of death, each word a dagger plunging into my already shattered psyche.

But the horror didn't end there. In moments of twisted revelation, I discovered the horrifying truth lurking in the depths of darkness. Dozens of videos, captured by Frankie's voyeuristic gaze, revealed the extent of his depravity. There, on the screen, I witnessed myself in the throes of sleep paralysis, vulnerable and defenseless, while Frankie watched with a sickening fascination.

In these videos, Frankie's fantasies of my demise played out in vivid detail. His whispered promises of death echoed through the room, each word a dagger piercing the veil of my consciousness. As I sat there, trapped in a waking nightmare, hallucinations danced before my eyes, taunting me with visions of impending doom.

The toll of Frankie Zerella's torment extended far beyond the night. Sleep deprivation became my constant companion, leaving me physically drained and emotionally exhausted. Tasks that were once manageable became insurmountable obstacles, and I found myself falling further and further behind at work.

But perhaps the most insidious aspect of Frankie Zerella's tactics was their impact on my sense of self-worth and autonomy. With each accusation, each whispered threat, Frankie sought to strip away my dignity and agency, leaving me feeling like nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game.

Yet amidst the darkness, there is resilience. By confronting the horrors of Frankie Zerella's abuse and seeking support from those who can help, I refuse to let his darkness define me. Together, we can shine a light on the tactics of malignant narcissists like Frankie Zerella and work towards a future where no one has to endure the torment of manipulation and abuse, both in the workplace and in the sanctuary of sleep.

In sharing my story, I hope to raise awareness of the insidious ways in which abusers exploit vulnerability, even in the most intimate of moments. Together, we can reclaim our sense of well-being and ensure that the shadows of manipulation and fear hold no power over us.

#narcissism #narcissistic abuse #living with cptsd #truecrime #danielryancotler #survivingfrankiezerella #ptsd #sleep paralysis #malignant

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terrible-twst-oc-ideas · 5 months

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Would You Believe I've Never Had a Lesson? III. Third Movement - Temptation

Testing their connection to the auditorium incident elicited the exact opposite of what Piper wanted. In the days that followed, Piper's speculative thoughts towards their strange power kept growing into an obsession, one fueled as much by paranoia as it was by curiosity. For paranoia, they feared being found out. If everyone knew their music could induce such a terrifying effect, they could only imagine the fallout. But for curiosity, it filled them with an unfamiliar, exhilarating desire-- a desire to experiment. To play. To learn more.

At first, they tried to fight the urge. This longing for knowledge was equally matched with their fear, and it kept their would-be actions at a stalemate.

That is, until their practice was disturbed once again.

“Bravo! That was wonderful!”

Piper groaned at Reed’s excessive cheers and clapping, already pinching the bridge of their nose.

“Reed. Let me guess: you heard my music in the hallway again?”

“You know it!” The boy giggled, “It’s so magnificent, every time I hear it I just have to get a front-row seat!”

“Of course.” Piper’s eyes narrowed, plucking out a few idle notes from their organ. “Do you need anything else?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Reed angled his body to its side, trying to look bashful, “I was wondering if you ever gave the band director that solo recommendation. Auditions are in a couple of days, and, well, I could really use the extra help--”

“Why?”

The question startled Reed, and even Piper to an extent. They’d never asked their leeches such a question before. Normally, it was better to placate them, make them believe they’d been fed, and shoo them away. But whether it because of current anxieties or finally being asked for one too many favors, Piper’s patience had lost its usual resilience.

“Um… what?”

“Why do you think you need my help?”

Reed struggled with an answer, averting his eyes in-- for once-- genuine sheepishness.

“Because, I… I don’t think I’m good enough.”

“Then practice.”

The suggestion only stupefied the boy further, so Piper took the opportunity to fully resume their organ playing.

“If you don’t think you’re good enough for a solo, then practice until you think you’re good enough. Why do you think I’m here playing all the time?”

“Um-- I know, and, and I do practice, but--”

“Then why do you keep bothering me?”

“I’m not bothering you!” Reed’s face puffed up like a balloon, “I-I’m just appreciating your music--”

“Then why do you always ask for favors?!”

At this, Reed went stiff, and just in time, too. Piper was realizing how loud their own voice had become.

“Well--” The boy sputtered out, “I’m always nice to you, so… maybe I expected you to be nice in return.” He crossed his arms with a defined pout. “But I guess you’re not very nice at all, are you?”

Piper's weakened patience finally snapped.

“Reed.” Their voice graveled from their previous yelling and held-back anger, “I don’t know if you’re entitled, or just exceptionally naive. But that’s not how the world works.”

Piper kept their hands busy with their organ keys, preventing them from acting on more violent urges.

“You do not earn respect, or praise, or accolades, or even simple favors because you were ‘nice.’ You earn them through work. Do you think I’ve relied solely on the skills I had when I started? No! If I had, everyone in this school would have tossed me aside a long time ago. I work, and I work, and I work, day and night, to ensure that I’m never forgotten. And you and all your fellows who think you can simply manipulate me into granting you success for free… you sicken me! I assure you, Reed Fidelio, that if you spent your time actually practicing instead of kissing up to me, you would get that solo of yours without me having to even think of opening my mouth! So, why don’t you do that, instead of aimlessly buttering me up with ridiculous, frivolous praise?!”

Piper slammed down the last note, their breath heavy with years of held-in frustration. All they wanted, more than anything, was for Reed to finally, finally listen to them.

And, willingly or not, he did.

Piper's anger evaporated the moment they saw Reed’s face. He’d acquired the same vacant, green-glass gaze of their power’s other victims, becoming perfectly silent. Piper lifted a single hand, debating if they should reach for him– before the green faded from his eyes. Reed’s face changed from enthralled to confused, and he blinked a few times in disorientation.

“Reed?” Piper asked, a bit of concern unwillingly creeping into their voice, “are you alright?”

“Yeah… I think I… blacked out for a second. All I remember is saying you weren’t very nice, and then…” His eyes traced the floor in a manner that was unusually shameful.

“You know. I… I think I am gonna go practice now. I don’t know why, but… I feel like I should.”

He moved to the door, and gave Piper one last look.

“See ya around.”

The door shut.

And for several minutes afterwards, all Piper could do was stare at it.

#terrible three #t3 writings #piper origin story #twst ocs #twst oc

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pastelpaperplanes · 4 years

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I’ve been re reading one of the greatest fics of all time and I didn’t think it was possible to love Lockdown this much,, but HERE WE ARE

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magic-can · 4 years

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ah shit Jaystation’s back...just when I thought 2020 couldn’t get any worse

#magiccan’s thoughts #*tw abuse towards people and animals mention in tags*#TehMimi made a video about what this bitch has been up to lately and #he SOMEHOW got worse #listen regardless of whether Alexia is 100% innocent or not #Jay is still a terrible influence on her #and to say their relationship is unhealthy is a massive understatement #I really hope she can separate herself from him completely as soon as possible #I honestly do feel really bad for her even if she willingly participates with him to an extent #he’s definitely controlling and manipulating her either way and it’s sickening #also the way he’s treating his new dog infuriates me #poor thing can’t make it outside without pissing itself because Jay is such an incompetent fuck who doesn’t know #how to care for a dog #don’t get one if you can’t take care of it ffs #usually I don’t like talking about influencers I don’t like #because it’s just a waste to do so imo but I make an exception for those who are genuinely horrible people #and Jaystation is a horrible person and it’s even more concering considering he targets his content towards children #why do people like him Onion Boy Shane Dawson etc. still have an audience? why are we letting them still have an audience?#just. ugh. these bitches are tiring.#youtubers #jaystation #influencers #youtube influencers

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starreyeyedfantasies · 2 years

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What kind of yanderes they are:

Characters included: Diluc, Yoimiya, Noelle

Word count: 0.8k

Diluc is reverent

Diluc has never loved the way he loves you. Every moment of his life, from the most painful to the most joyous is nothing compared to the tidal wave of emotions he feels around you. Every moment of his life is devoted to you, and nobody else.

Ever since the betrayal of Kaeya, and the death of his father, he’s had nothing else left. Sure, he has Mondstadt and the winery, but he couldn’t help but feel empty.

Then you entered his life.

Nothing has shaken him as much as you have. Every moment is vibrant, his passion for life has never been greater. You have filled every empty moment, and he’s never been more thankful.

He fights the Fatui not just for his late father, but for you as well. He amasses wealth not just for his legacy, he amasses it to fulfill your every desire. He works, fights, kills, lives for you.

He tells himself that it doesn’t matter whether or not you ever return his affections. It’s partially true. He will always do anything he can for your sake. But he’s lying when he tells himself that it doesn’t hurt whenever your gaze passes over him in his tavern.

He wishes he could protect you from every evil in the world. He’s seen the stares drunken men give you, how they wish to consume you. It sickens him, and though he knows you’d object. he cannot help but do something about such filth. The flames of his vision have never burned hotter than when he takes care of those vermin late in the night.

Of course, you’ll never know about that. You deserve to only see the best of the world; the best of him. He’ll make sure of it.

Diluc will do anything and everything for you. You’re the only light left in his world, after all.

Yoimiya is honest

Yoimiya knows right from wrong. She teaches the children she plays with every day the difference. When you steal from someone, you return it, when you say something mean, you apologize. She manages to weave basic yet massively important morals into stories and games. She prides herself on being everyone’s big sister, who knows exactly what to do whenever they mess up.

Yet she cannot explain why she’s still obsessed with you.

There is nothing innocent about the extent of her near limitless devotion. She’d give up everything she is, and everything she will be just for a moment of your happiness. Every smile and giggle you throw her way sears her soul. The way you intently listen to her ramblings touches her in a way she’s never been touched before. She longs to show you every beautiful sight in the world. Her fireworks are just one aspect of this unending desire.

Anything you want is yours. She would manipulate, trick, and lie her way to achieve anything you wish. You don’t even have to ask. Anything you ask for, whether it’s as mundane as a beautiful hairpin or as expensive as a furisode will end up in your possession. Whether or not you know it was her doing is irrelevant. If you accuse her, she’ll just giggle and insist it was nothing.

Yoimiya knows her dedication is so extreme it’s wrong. Yet she still cannot bring herself to care.

Noelle is shy

Noelle has never been a bold girl. She waits and longs for the day she can finally become the knight she’s always wanted to be. She will always work to achieve her dreams, yet she cannot muster enough bravery to ask for that work to be rewarded.

This is true for her relationship with you as well.

She lingers in the background of your life, waiting for the day when you’ll finally notice her. She admires your kindness and intelligence, smiles and giggles at your jokes, and longs to feel your sweet gaze finally fall upon her.

Yet it never does.

You laugh and drink with Kaeya, but you never extend that humour towards her. Albedo discusses the intricacies of art and alchemy with you, but you never discuss your passions with her. Eula teaches you the art of dance, yet she’s never even had the pleasure of being within your sight. All of these slights she can brush off, but what truly stings is the care you extend towards Jean. Whenever she overworks herself you cheer her on, bring her food and help with her paperwork. Noelle cannot even fathom how that would even feel.

Why can’t that be her? Why can’t she receive the same love you extend to everyone else?

Eventually Noelle realizes that the problem is her. She needs to works harder and harder. The only way you will ever acknowledge her is if she becomes a knight as well. And so she will devote herself to her studies, and pray that one day, you’ll allow her to be your knight.

It’s the only thing she knows she can do.

#genshin headcanons #yandere #yandere diluc #yandere noelle #yandere yoimiya #not the most confident about this but whatever lol #reader insert #genshin impact

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datastate · 2 years

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kai would be unspeakably distraught to witness sara pushed to the extent of what gave her that 15.5%. although it's a difficult choice to make, if he sees her light, her innocence, broken by asu-naro to the point she takes pride in deceit and manipulation, her spirit's already been killed. it's horrifying, to him, to see that even she has been destroyed for asu-naro's means - but she becomes his only target. and, no, he cannot keep his resolve (his bleeding heart, her careful lies) but, if he is presented the opportunity, her death is preferable than living life as a puppet of asu-naro that will never return to the compassion which first saved him. he was raised in darkness, undeserving of that kindness and forever indebted - he returns that now, once he understands she has steeled her own heart to the bloodshed. she's gone. the least he can do is save her from the misery asu-naro manifests.

but if she's clever, sara waits to reveal this mask at all. and it's only as he lies there, bleeding, filled with a sickening mix of horror and unbridled comfort as he realizes he's been forsaken by the person he trusts the most. again. he fails, again. and the husk that carries the chidouin name uses him as the willing sacrifice. asu-naro made him to be used, and the chidouins have learned just how to puppeteer him for their means. the tears are false and bitter as they fall on him. but he loves her still. if he was wrong as he so desperately wished he was, if she could ever begin to recover, if there truly was a chance she could escape and respark that hope she granted him then, even if it's but a shadow of who she once was... it's an irrational prayer, but it brings enough solace as he dies off.

#blorbo induced emotions. my brain is short circuiting #yes i have been overthinking his decision in the roulette & his stance on killing. thank you 🙏#jestersvaguely #yttdposting #yttd meta #character death

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oneoftheprettynerds · 3 years

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Fixed: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 4 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 3: Love So Soft

Main Masterlist

A/N: It’s shorter than my usual updates but I’m busy so sorry for the delay. My final exam dates have come and all I can do is pray right now lol. Please pray for me if you can, this sis is out here writing fanfics for yall instead of studying so, haha. ANyways, enjoy babies! Shit happens in this chapter.

Warning: Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Word count: 5K

Chapter 4: Fixed

You didn’t sleep that night. Or the next few. Your hands shook every time you got a flashback and even though you were numb to emotions that entire day, tears threatened to spill whenever your mind took to you to that overpriced kitchen again.

Now that he had gone to a dangerous and unnerved assaulter from a Dad trying to take care of his daughter, your mind wouldn’t put anything past him. You knew that in the back of your mind that he was a mobster and your ‘friendship’ was alarming to say the least, but now there was no denying his resources and power and the very obvious threat to your life lingering in the air.

At least before you had the luxury to be oblivious and ignorant, not anymore though. Steve felt even more unhinged and liberal now, even messaging you daily, greeting texts that you obviously ignored. He knew you both were aware that you never handed him your number and he felt no need to hide his pursuit.

You read most of the messages, not bothering with a single reply though. You tried to block him but somehow your phone would still receive messages from his number, even though his contact would always peek back at you from the otherwise empty blacklist.

As if his torment wasn’t ample, another message thread from a different number would forward you alarming images, photos of Grace in her daycare, on a class trip to the park and even her playing in your backyard. You had no doubt that this was another game of his to show you his resources.

You skipped daycare for a few days, your mental health worse than it was after the carnival attack, because now you had a personal tormentor and you cursed yourself for falling into this mess. At times, you believed it wasn’t your fault really, you just helped a kid and this situation spiraled itself but what would pointing fingers now get you? The harsh truth was you were in a calamitous situation now and every step from now on had to be thought out.

So, you let Grace attend her daycare and acted if nothing was amiss or altered, after the few initial breakdown days of course, kept going to your job and earning the bread. You considered your options, you really wanted to go to the cops or a higher fair power but those were few these days, almost non existent in your city. You also vaguely recalled meeting three of the Captains of the PD at Sarah’s birthday, all smiley and doe eyed for Steve. You knew they wouldn’t help, fucking kiss-asses.

Maybe you would have to move somewhere else, perhaps to your hometown, at least till things cooled down or better yet were forgotten? But that trail was very predictable and you didn’t want your parents in this mess.

You also came to know that Steve had inserted himself in the other spheres of your life. You were sure your location was always being sent to him, the knowledge a courtesy of the black car following you while you travelled to home at some late day’s end.

Aiden told you whereabouts were easy to track, when you inquired ambiguously. Another instance was when you went to the bank to deposit cash for your debit card, you came face to face with an enormous amount already there. Somehow, the limit on your credit card was also extended. How, you knew. The clerk told you about an email you must have gotten in regards to it, you dismissed that justification away and told them to not accept the cash. To sum the discussion, they weren’t helpful and had no policy against anonymous donors.

Aiden, your trusted coworker cum pal, sensed the shift in your aura and fidgety form very easily, pestering you with questions and you decided to turn to him, stressed and tired and ready to do something. His questioning eyebrows made you confess vaguely but you refused to tell him the extent of it. Just that his prediction came true and you needed help. Let’s just say, Aiden was a good man.

With time, Steve’s ‘affectionate’ messages became deranged, and you found it harder to act nonchalant in your daily life. You were thankful he didn’t come to visit you, possibly occupied with the rumored war between the mobs. You just prayed for a few more days of ignorance, just enough time to think and do something.

“What do you mean someone collected her?!” You had a hard time controlling your voice, you were about to burst, in tears or with anger, you didn’t know.

“The man was verified in the emergency contacts and we got a letter signed and approved by you to skip the day an hour into the first activity.”

“A man? Emergen-, wait no! What fucking approved letter?”

You had three emergency contacts, your mom in another state, Aiden, and one of the other kid’s mom you had grown close to. Aiden was with you at work all day, so did someone disguise themselves as him? And what was the deal with the letter signed by you? You surely didn’t remember writing and authorizing one.

The boy, Pietro, who had been the receptionist for as long as you could remember, shuffled through the chaotic piles of paper and presented a letter to you, and your blood froze as your eyes skimmed the font.

Your beautiful cursive stared right back at you and you knew that no one would ever be able to distinguish between this penmanship and the one in the pocketbook in your clutch. No one but you. Even though you knew you had not written it, the slightly different ‘f’ and ‘g’ told you everything.

Your signature at the bottom though, was done quite perfectly and that made you even more scared.

“I did-, I didn’t write this! What the-” Your widened eyes met Pietro’s from above the paper but all he offered you was a meek smile. Your hands shook with rage and for the first time in your life, you had the urge to slap someone really bad.

“Maybe your family had an emergency to take he-”

“No, you don’t get it!” You stopped yourself from getting frantic, willing yourself to take deep breaths and think rationally. Today of all days, things had to mess up.

He didn’t know you had no family in this city, that you had a mobster after you or the subtle threats that his hired spy sent to you.

Was going to the police an option? Aiden already told you that the cops were as good as Steve’s men. But this was about your missing kid! You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to her. And you were giving Steve way too much credit, what if he wasn’t behind this all? Come to think of it, what if the other number wasn’t his?

Relax yourself! Thinking of disturbing theories wouldn’t help anyone. You thought you should go to the cops, just in case. No mentioning of Steve, just a woman with a ‘missing child’ report.

‘Missing Child’ left an acrid taste behind and you were too close to a breakdown, but your whole journey of single-parenthood taught you to kick vulnerability aside, well most of the times.

You turned and were about to leave, but Pietro stopped you. “If you are going to the cops Ma’am, they require 8 hours of inactivity or disappearance time for kids under 5.”

Well look who just read your mind.

You huffed and kept the tears at bay, your mind thinking of what to do then? Grace was obviously taken-

“How could you let a toddler leave without informing the parents?” You knew your anger was channeling out at the wrong man but didn’t he all but hand Grace to the stranger?

You beat him answering and inquired, “What did the man look like? Do you have any footage? Anything?” The wrinkles in your forehead and stress creases on your face paired with the eyebags betrayed your age surely. You were sure you had aged more this week than an entire decade, juggling your normal life with the hovering threat.

“You shouldn’t be this worried Ma’am.”

The fucking audacity.

“Your daughter recognized him, she all but ran to him and this other little girl he came with. You should maybe ask your parent-friends around? A blonde family perhaps?”

As all the emotions drained from your face and terror took over, the young lad in front of you looked smug. You wondered as if you imagined the faintest of smirks on his face.

You crumpled the letter in your hands, seething with rage as you stepped in your car. Oh, you were mad, more wrathful than ever. You could take any hits on you, any threat but not on Grace, never on her.

You were stupid, you had already decided you wouldn’t put anything past him but unknowingly, you did put this past him. You thought this man had a shred of decency to not use your kid in this adult war, being a parent himself and all but what a surprise! You were wrong.

You drove to your home, your thoughts a mix of trepidation, anxiety and fury. You were scared of him and his reach and resources but if he put Grace in any type of danger; whether to teach you a lesson or use her as bait or both, there’d be consequences.

Lord knows you killed a man a month ago Grace was threatened.

You had one thing to do before contacting Steve about Grace but you never got to do it because unexpectedly the bastard was in your home. In your home.

The black sports car outside was a huge giveaway but your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the door with your house key. The banter and giggles from inside alarmed yet calmed you; the dread of confrontation and the assurance of Grace’s safety reigned your mind.

As the door opened painfully slow like a horror movie, the sight that met your eyes made you sick with a feeling of failure. It wasn’t gore or blood or grunge, it was Steve bouncing Grace in the air and catching her while Sarah twirled around in the living room.

This man was craftier than you thought, every action of his was calculated, each a refined step. You had been so preoccupied to avoid direct encounters with him in your little family’s life that you didn’t think he had other ways. He was always looming around with Sarah and as Grace began to trust Sarah, she consequently began to trust her blonde guardian too.

As you slammed the door behind you, Steve’s eyes snapped to yours and his smirk made you want to punch him so hard. The smugness on his face while he let Grace down without breaking eye contact told you he had no regret, no remorse. In fact, he was loving every second of this cat and mouse chase between you two.

You were a millimeter close to losing your shit, the only check being the kids in the room. But you were mad and he was going to know it.

“What the hell, Steve? Messing with my kid?” You threw your clutch onto the couch, Steve haughty by the reception of his sent message but still holding back because of the kids. He called Wanda and you didn’t really notice where she came from but you did register Steve asking to take the girls to the park for a ‘private discussion’.

As Grace passed by you, you grabbed her arm lightly, making her look at you with doe eyes resembling yours. You gave her a smile trying to ease her, but you knew she was smart enough to sense the change in the atmosphere.

Apparently, the whining Sarah wasn’t.

You looked back to Steve, your hold still on Grace and continued with a frown and raised eyebrows, “She isn’t going anywhere, not out of my sight and obviously not with you or your goons.”

Wanda had the audacity to look offended and you scoffed at her, eyes staring Steve’s down.

“Honey, I don’t think the kids should hear what I think you have to say right now.” He said nodding to Wanda to take Grace.

“You must be deranged to think I trust Grace near anyone even remotely related to you! Take your people and get out.” You held your hand up to stop Wanda and pointed towards the door with the most menacing glare you could form.

Grace looked incomprehensibly between you two, concern and confusion on her face. That might have been the first time such a tone was used in your household. The grumbling Sarah was close to throwing a tantrum, irritated by the change in the playful air or the lack of attention to her, you didn’t know. She was hanging on Wanda’s forearm, her feet slipping on your printed rug. Wanda was trying to not look hurt still by your previous statement, distracting herself by the blonde kid and you were baffled by her obliviousness to all this.

Steve, the beefy blonde Lucifer, was furious and seething. His white knuckles and ticking jaw were the most obvious giveaways, the fingers just itching to beat the shit out of someone no doubt.

Was he imagining striking you into compliance into his weird playhouse game complex? You wouldn’t be surprised given the extent of his attempt to ‘win’ you over.

The ‘get out’ tone and blatant disrespect was a bruise to his ego for sure, and by you, a middle-class woman nonetheless was a worse injury. Steve was the deadly boss to armored men in the vicinity, the kids’ father figure, according to him, and Wanda’s stern yet kind employer.

People had been killed for less and there you were, standing in all your glory, being the only person alive to reject Steve Rogers and now, the only to raise your voice at him.

You almost scoffed at his impudence to look offended, what did he expect? For you to submit to him after the stunt he pulled? His reach was scary he proved today and that any future with him in your life in any way, was a fearsome possibility to entertain but you’d be damned if you went down without a fight.

“You can’t make me leave; we both know. You don’t have the physical edge nor the mental one. I have no problem drawing out G-U-N-S in front of the kids or to throw the warnings around, although I would prefer not to.”

Your free hand itched to slap him, like how his did minutes ago. It wasn’t a mankind problem about men thinking they were entitled to everything; it was a Steve Rogers’s problem. Of course, with him consent didn’t matter. If he had a ‘housewife, kids and fences’ fixation, he’d make it come true.

“Do you even listen to what I say? Or your own words even? Please, go ahead! Traumatise my kid and also yours in your wooing process! Why are you so obsessed? Leave us alone, you freak! I just ignored few messages!” You had a hard time maintaining your cool, if there was any left. You were sure you were scaring Grace and no matter what happened next, you knew she was already traumatized by this entire ordeal already. You were so sorry, so, so, so sorry to your poor baby caught in this mess.

You knew, no, you hoped, he wouldn’t pull out the gun, his actions at the carnival a proof, you remembered how he hid his gun on finding Sarah. That threat was empty but the next one wasn’t, his words making you freeze in your spot.

“I think you keep on misunderstanding me, sweetheart. I don’t make empty promises,”

Posh word for threats.

“For starters, maybe I should pay my future in-laws a visit in their blue duplex. They might need help with the vast garden they have, it is the season for ‘violets’, isn’t it?”

As you froze with your parents being brought up, he also cooled, albeit differently, smirking once again gaining the upper hand, not that he lost it if you were being honest.

“Isn’t threatening my kid enough for you, Steve?” You hated how your loud voice almost broke, your anger slowly subsiding into helplessness and you hated that. You hated his guts, his entitlement, his claim; everything about him.

“You still don’t see it, do you? Our family of four is the most important thing to me right now and I’m not above doing anything to save it.”

“There is no family of four Steve! I keep explaining and you keep coming back to square one with all this bullshit!” The curse word did tick Steve off but he would correct that later, when bigger things weren’t at ploy.

“Your ignorance makes me a little mad sometimes sweetheart and that is why I have to do all I do. You haven’t realized we need each other yet, but I’m staying until you do and even after that, I promise. You know how much it pissed me off to see your tickets and the packed suitcases after I’ve been nothing but nice? I was so generous to spoil you with my riches but instead I find that in your finances.”

This fucker knew. Of course, he did!

You were wondering in the back of your head what had prompted this visit with so many threats and warnings and anguish. He was pissed even before you ‘acted out’, he tracked the tickets and the plan and that meant he even tracked-

“You have so much to learn, but luckily you interact with quite a few people. I am most tempted to start out with this Aiden guy, trying to be the hero and giving you all the ideas. Maybe I should visit him?” Steve wondered out loud, and you flinched at his suggestion, hating how you were trapped by this man.

You couldn’t live with yourself if anyone got hurt because of you, be it your parents or Aiden or any other possibility Steve would come up with. Of course, Grace was your peak priority but you doubted he would hurt her as he threatened to harm them.

“Steve, please.” The fire was almost out, your hands trembling, Grace worried and Steve smug.

“Let the kids go and I think we can come to a conclusion.”

“Steve this needs to stop.” You said, your breaths heavy and helplessness clawing away at you.

“I won’t repeat myself.” He voiced out with a threatening edge, gesturing to Grace and Wanda, clearly telling you to first get the kids out.

For a deranged fucktard, he sure cared about the kids a lot.

You loosened your hold on Grace, patting her arm softly and nudged her to Wanda. Wanda received her little hand and enticed the kids with the promise of ice-cream. Sarah clapped her hands and as the trio left, Grace did look over her shoulders at you in concern and for permission, majorly in concern though. You nodded and waved, a tear dropping as soon as the door clicked shut.

You were still staring at the door, not wanting to meet Steve’s stormy blue orbs when he began, “Today was a slip up that I won’t tolerate again. Neither the cursing nor the dramatics.”

We aren’t in a fucking play, what the fuck is he labelling as dramatics?

Your eyes slowly flickered to his, and you had a hard time not letting the tears escape except the one traitorous one earlier. The fatigue, the worry of Grace’s disappearance, the threats to your friends and family were all catching up to you. It took all in you to stay strong and not fall down right now.

“Steve this isn’t funny anymore. It’s sick and you know it! I just said no! Was that so inexcusable that you had to follow up with this? You have violated me for that, broken into my home and now kidnapped my daughter! At what extent will you stop?” You broke down finally, arms a flailing mess as fat tears rolled down. Nothing scared more than the helplessness this moment. He won and he knew it. The carnival incident was nothing in comparison to this. The only good thing you could hope in all this was a safe Grace but that too only if you complied, which seemed like what you would do now given your attempts at fighting back and scampering have failed laughably.

“Gosh, I forgot how theatrical women are. You are smart darling; you know what I want from day one, just a happy family. Nothing that horrendous has happened and especially not as badly as put it. I’m just looking out for you and me in the long run.” Steve slowly treaded towards you, his hand extended to pat your arm comfortingly but you involuntarily flinched at contact and stepped back. Steve clearly didn’t like that as he caught your arm in a bruising grip and jerked you towards him. Manhandling you as your wet hands rushed to ease his grip was not a tough task for Steve, a surprise to none.

“Stop trembling like I’ve actually done something to harm you!”

Steve clearly didn’t know how to comfort women and it showed.

You stopped with the cowering away, even though it disgusted you to be this much in close proximity with your assaulter. He clearly had anger issues and no clue how to solve them. You needed to steer the conversation right and get him out. You could see your hands visibly shake as you put them on his chest, just to create some distance and in a way of surrendering to not fight. The tears slowed but you don’t think they stopped; it was hard to tell with a million other things on your mind.

As your eyes made contact, Steve loosened his grip, clearly a bit satisfied by your submission, as he began counting to help you breathe. As much as you hated to admit, it helped you and you got a flashback to the time when you freaked out on him about Grace at that extravagant dinner date. That was a sweet gesture then, not so sweet now. Funny how drastically things change with time.

It wasn’t so much Steve’s help as it was your own mind telling you to be fucking smart about the whole ordeal right now.

“Good. Better. Now let’s talk. Why were you planning to run away? I’ve been busy and coming home to find out that wasn’t joyful, you know.” His smile suggested a better mood than before but his voice, his husky voice always had this daring edge that almost challenged you to defy him but at the same time warned you of unpleasant consequences if you did.

“Steve, I’m scared.” You spoke with utmost honesty. “The part of the world you associate yourself with scares me. You can’t blame me for not wanting that life for Grace, I mean you have a kid of your own. Wasn’t the carnival attack specifically on Sarah?”

The reasoning was right but you knew you triggered him the moment his smile evaporated. He either felt insulted as a parent or disrespected in his profession or probably both.

He was fighting his inner demons already and you pointing it out was a slap to his face, a hit he didn’t want to take.

“That was a slip up, I admit. Never again. I’m only human, okay?” He convinced himself and you, his grip tightening a bit again.

Oh no, not the right direction to take.

You reckoned he still had nightmares about it like you, he really did love Sarah a lot, all things aside.

“Besides, I am looking out for you! Out for you and Grace and Sarah. I remember my promise of never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

You definitely didn’t trust his security or his people because what sort of a mobster let his daughter get targeted and possibly abducted? You definitely didn’t know the whole story or if it was just a bad day but he wasn’t a person that deserved some slack. Despite all this, you knew what all he held above you, above a common man. He might not be ‘Kingpin’ skilled but a threat to you nonetheless.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Is that what you call following me around, huh?” which you immediately regretted.

“Trust the process, baby. Everything is just to protect you.”

Is that what he called stalking even Grace around and twistedly enough, sending you proof of that? The anonymous thread of photos was another nightmare of yours, thanks to him. The last being a candid photo inside Grace’s room, her sleeping in her bed this morning and that’s when you decided you needed to get out. Of course, that didn’t go as planned.

“How am I supposed to do that when you have cameras in my house?!” You scoffed and he reeled back at the accusation, having the nerve to look impressed at being uncovered and caught red-handed.

“Oh my fucking God, it was you! You sick pervert!” You jumped out of his grip, your eyes wide and horrified. “I wasn’t aware of what to make of it but of course, it was you! Who else would be sick enough to do that?” You let out a humorless chuckle. You always put things past him even when you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t. When will you ever learn huh?

You were full on panicking yet again, this man was an assaulter, a stalker and a creep too. It would have made a good dark, psychological thriller for you to watch if you weren’t the protagonist about to suffer his obsession.

He reached out to steady you again, but you whipped and stumbled back, realizing too late that you elbowed Steve’s nose so bad that there was a crunch. That, right there, was the look a man real-fucking-furious on Steve’s face and now you could see the feared mobster, the man who was personally terrorizing you under the beautiful, Greek God façade.

Steve reacted so fast even with an injury that in a split second, your view of his face turned into a view of his crotch.

“You do realize that there are others ways for me to teach you obedience? I think it’s fucking time you show me your gratitude for my care and attention and apologize for your misconduct and unkind response.” Steve spoke with a hoarse voice, a voice running out of patience and just about done with defiance.

His hand fisted your hair, maintaining eye contact while he nodded between you and his crotch. You knew what he wanted, what he was expecting as ‘thanks’.

“Steve, please no, you don’t-”

His other hand grabbed your jaw, stopping you from speaking as he warned, “I think you have done just enough talking for today, so why don’t you put that tongue to a better use and show me how sorry you are. Better make it convincing because I’d hate to pay one of your friends a visit and then bitch about a nasty blowjob.” He smirked at the end of his monologue, eyes shining with triumph and amusement.

You wouldn’t let him harm anyone else, you couldn’t. You and your daughter were already knee-deep in a pit and at this point, it’d just be cruel to drag someone else in. With shaky hands opening his pants, you just hoped you could get Grace out before you eventually were buried in it.

“Now that’s a good girl. Submissive is a sexy look on you.” His hands patted your hair, playing with your tresses while yours pulled his pants and then briefs down.

His member jerked out, almost slapping you in the face as you recoiled at his insolence to get hard and erect at your torment. Your disdain must have shown which he took as admiration and derision to take his affluent cock in.

“No need to get shy, I have faith you’ll be able take it just as well in your pretty pussy as you will right now. Open up-”

“Steve, I beg you-”

Just as you had cut him off, he interrupted your pleading. Your gag reflex was probably the most efficient in the world but that turned this narcissist on. It had been years since you had done it, never with a man as beefy as Steve.

His taste was salty and if you had to put it into better words, it was the like overpriced sea salt flakes that you never bought. High and pricey and for the entitled.

Your hands clutched at his thighs as you blacked out multiple times; your jaw aching, uvula swaying and tears escaping. Him forcing himself on you brough a new sense of vulnerability as your body trembled. Steve relished like a sadist, practically rutting into you all by himself as you just sat there with your jaw unnaturally open.

His obscene moans and groans were crass and nauseating and you just prayed for this to be over soon and for no one to walk in on this, especially your kid.

It seemed like it would never end, your body dehydrating with all the spit it produced, the drool dribbling and landing just beside your knees on your printed rug. You would have to throw that out.

The tears stooped after some point, the sobbing an unnecessary action that just tired you out more on this eventful day. You moved your tongue around to prevent your teeth from scratching him when he shifted angles. If this was what he did on slightly mad, you didn’t want to find what he did for a more serious punishment.

Apparently, that action was something that turned him on even more, his breath hitching as neared closure. In broken whispers he demanded that again and you complied, wanting to get done with it.

He growled in the moment of his release and you tried to lean back but his grip didn’t relent. “Swallow.” His grainy, exasperated voice said out loud and you knew better than to defy.

He released you and you fell on to the rug, hip bruising by knocking into some furniture and tears coming back again after being hydrated by his seed. He packed himself, his smile smug and content as his expressions truly resembled ecstasy being personified.

“You be a good fiancée from now on and maybe you’ll have all your friends alive and present at our wedding. No cheeky business from now on, got it?” Steve hummed then and strutted out, not even bothering to listen to your reply.

As soon as the door slammed, your eyes closed and your demons danced again.

There was no right direction to take when you were stuck in a loop.

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lonely-lost-soul · 3 years

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Under the Floorboards Pt. V

(Technoblade X Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII, Pt. V, Pt. VI

Alright so maybe you spoke too soon; the four of you were going to do great things, minus Tommy. Technoblade had finally agreed to let you join Tommy and him on an adventure into L’manberg. The plan was to crash their festival, and ultimately attempt to get Tommy’s discs back from Dream and Tubbo. You expected your first adventure into the country to be fun, if anything you’d get to steal some shit, what you didn’t expect was to be thrown in the middle of a public dispute.

Clearly, you underestimated what ‘getting the discs back’ actually entailed.

You and Technoblade were back to back swords drawn, surrounded by about thirty people in the ruin of what was once deemed a community house. Technoblade never would’ve agreed to let you come if he thought the confrontation with Dream was going to be this serious, he assumed they’d watch from afar. If things got to dicey Tommy and him would rush in and he’d have you stay behind to watch from afar. If only he could’ve predicted someone blowing up a random building would cause such turmoil.

Nothing could ever come up Technoblade.

“Yah know when you first invited me out to partake in a festival for some reason I didn’t expect to be attacked by like thirty people.” You chirped a hesitant smile on your face as Technoblade made a confused sound.

“You definitely should’ve expected it,” Technoblade grumbled, barely taking his eyes off of Tommy and Tubbo’s argument. You watched Techno’s back but you couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the boys conversation as well. As much as your heart broke for the two war-torn children, you had your alliance first and foremost with your boyfriend. You also couldn’t help but feel this conversation should be happening privately but here they were airing things out seemingly for the first time in front of everybody. Speaking of your boyfriend, your attention was drawn back to him as he caught Tommy’s attention, “be very careful what your decision is here Tommy.”

You narrowed your eyes and took a step in front of Technoblade, he made his classic ‘heh’ sound as you did so. You felt his hand grip your forearm and tighten trying to hold you back in case you wanted to do something stupid.

“Tommy, come home with us.” You held out your hand to him, the one Technoblade didn’t have a hold of obviously. “Phil’s waiting for us, we’ll get your discs back together as we planned.” The smile on your face could part the cloudiest of days and it broke Tommy’s heart, she had given him something that he hadn’t had since the war with Dream began.

A home.

“(Y/N),” That’s the first time he used your name, the first time you weren’t just Ms Blade. It broke your heart and you whimpered a little bit, “thank you for everything you’ve done for me. But I can’t go back with you and Technoblade. I don’t like what I’ve become, this isn’t me. I’m sorry. I hope one day we can be friends again. Tubbo give Dream my disc.” You leaned back into Technoblade in disbelief, Tommy had just betrayed Technoblade right before your very eyes. The man who gave Tommy the clothes on his back and a place to stay when no one else would. Weapons to help him fight against Dream when everyone else abandoned him, even though they all treated Technoblade as a weapon he still went out of his way to help Tommy. Your hands clenched into fists at your side as Dream let out a roaring laugh collecting the disc from Tubbo. He called the two children stupid right to their face and no matter how angry you were with them that was harsh, it’s like everyone in this country forgets that they are children. Children fuck up, it’s how they learn and it’s in their nature why does no one here understand that. You looked up at Techno your eyebrows furrowed and you pressed your lips tight but he didn’t take his eyes off Dream, he had different priorities in mind.

Protecting you from the Dreamon if anything went south.

Dream continued to mock and criticize the people of L’manberg before turning to you and Technoblade. The mask he wore may hide his facial expressions, but it couldn’t mask the unadulterated glee in his voice. Technoblade pulled you behind him as Dream stepped closer to the both of you, you felt a growl rumble in Technoblade’s chest,

“That’s close enough.”

“Down boy.” Dream mused, holding up his hands to show faux innocence. “I have no issues with the both of you. Tomorrow, with your help, Technoblade and woman.”

“(Y/N).”

“Don’t tell him your name.” Technoblade gaped at you and you only could huff in frustration,

“Better than just being called woman! Plus Tommy already said it.”

With an eye-roll Dream continued his speech, “With the help of Technoblade and (Y/N) L’manberg is going to be a crater. We’re blowing it sky-high.” Dream turned over to face Tubbo once again, “I had to pretend to be friends with you, to get the dumb disk back! I don't care about you. I'm not your friend. Okay? I cared about getting the disk back, and I got the disk back. I got it back. And that's-that's- that's the only thing that really matters. You can't even run your nation right. RANBOO IS A TRAITOR. ONE OF YOUR MOST TRUSTED FRIENDS.”

Your eyes widened as you spotted another child looking horrified, it was the half enderman from the butcher gang. You’re adopting him next.

“NO, IT IS TRUE. READ THIS BOOK. READ THIS BOOK. There's his memory book. He was meeting with Techno and Tommy and told them EVERYTHING. The proof’s all his own memories! He writes it down! You can't even run your own nation correctly Tubbo. Listen. Tubbo, you, I mean you, ... L'Manberg is weaker than it's ever been, and it's because of you! You have- you have destroyed everything. You have ruined your friendships. You have ruined L'Manberg's allies. You have just-you are a horrible president Tubbo.” Dream continued as Tubbo looked sick to his stomach, you felt just as nauseous.

“YEAH, YOU SUCK TUBBO!”

“TECHNOBLADE!”

“What?” He flinched at your tone, “he’s right!”

“They’re children,” You tried to argue but Dream cut you off by stepping in between you and Technoblade. Your pulse skyrocketed as you were separated, and you made sure an ender pearl was at the ready. Tommy looked at the both fo you nervously, but there was a spark of hope in his eyes when you defended Tubbo. Tommy turned over to Tubbo who honestly looked just as shocked that a partner of Technoblade’s would defend him, espeically considering he had tried to kill her a few days prior. Tommy had hope that he wasn’t completely dead to you.

“Techno. Got any withers?” You watched a sickening smile spread across Techno’s lips he picked at his nails.

“I got a few.”

“Good. Then I’ll see you all tomorrow when the L’manberg loses its last cannon life,” Dream announced before disappearing into the wind. The citizens turned to face you and Technoblade, he only had to utter a single word:

“Run,” Before both of you pearled away from the wreckage of the community house.

Technoblade scooped you up in his arms as he made his way through the Nether portal back to his base. He was much faster than you were and you didn’t fight him on wanting to make a quick getaway. You both were silent on the way back to his base, bottom line was you didn’t know how you felt about what just went down. On one hand, destruction was your middle name and you weren’t going to oppose blowing a government to smithereens with your boyfriend.

Nothing could be more romantic than that.

Yet at the same time, unlike Technoblade, you felt the guilt eat away at you. These were people’s homes, and lives you’d be destroying tomorrow. Most of the citizens you had no affiliation with, which you were grateful for, but those you did you almost couldn’t justify blowing the country up. Tommy was by all accounts dead to Technoblade and by that extent you as well. Still, you didn’t want to see him physically dead, it wasn’t his fault he got corrupted by the government and a homeless teletubby.

You were starting to sound like Technoblade now too.

You made a sound of distress and Techno glanced down at your form, his face flushed as you nuzzled your nose against his neck.

“You okay princess?”

“No…” You answered with a sigh, you reached out and twirled a strand of his pink hair through your fingers. “Tommy’s gone, we’re going to blow up a country tomorrow. I feel bad for the people we’re gonna leave homeless. So, no I’m not okay bubs.” The socially awkward man winced a little as he battled with what to say to you, he tends to forget you both aren’t the same person. For as much as both of you agree, you were still different from him, you had more empathy than he could ever wish to have.

“You don’t have to come.”

He watched a frown appear on your face as you pulled away from him. You clicked your tongue in distaste, a sure sign that you were about to pick a fight with the blood god. You were one opponent he could never seem to defeat. That did not come out the way he intended.

Time to backtrack before he got his ass handed to him.

“What I mean is, you have no affiliation with L’manberg. You have no prior issues you need to settle with them so technically you can stay home tomorrow, no one would blame you. You’d be safer away from the explosions, I’d feel better with you at home.”

“That way you’d only have to worry about Phil tomorrow right?”

“Well, that’s part of it,” He stated bluntly, never one to be dishonest. “He has only one life and he’s going to want to fight, he has a lot to avenge. The government drove his eldest son mad, enough that Phil had to kill him. He’s one of my oldest friends, I wanna look out for him and protect him.” You couldn’t help but sigh softly at his response, you brushed your thumb across his cheek fondly.

“You’re wrong.”

“Eh?”

“I do have something I want to fight for, I want to fight for what I believe is right. Let’s face it Techno the way everyone’s treating those children is sick. Dream manipulated Tommy and used Tubbo to get what he wanted from him. I know you did what you thought was right for Tommy but he’s a product of a war-torn country, they all are. Now, that doesn’t excuse his betrayal but… did he even know what the right thing to do was in this situation, does he even truly know what peace is? I want to fight to protect those kids. They deserve to know peace, true peace away from bloodshed and war. If I can I want to give them that.” You watched Technoblade’s jaw tighten, “I’m going with you tomorrow but I’m not going to kill the children.”

“I don’t think I can ever forgive Tommy.” He sighed adjusting his grip on you a sure sign he was nervous, “but I love you.” Techno kissed you once again, it was long and tender you watched as the apples of his cheeks turn red after you both pulled away. He took a breath, “You’re unstoppable and you’ve never stopped me before so I won’t do the same for you. Just stay safe. Please. You need to come home with me tomorrow I won’t settle for anything else.”

“I will. I promise.” You pressed a light kiss to his cheek, and he hummed gently in response. “I love you Technoblade, I’ll fight beside you. Till the end of the line.”

“Till the end of the line,” He repeated as you both approached the snow-covered house to convene with Philza Minecraft himself.

~~~

Hi guys! Officially feeling a bit better, enough to get a small part out before I work on the next chapter. I hope you like it, thanks so much for reading and your amazing feedback. Also, thanks so much for your kind words and well wishes! Also, also, If anyone ever makes fanart of this story (I doubt it would happen) please tag me and let me know. I love to make art myself and always wanna support other artists! Thanks Again!

#technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #technoblade #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #fanfiction #fanfic #minecraft fanfiction #x reader #dreamsmp x reader #minecraft x reader #x you #Blood for the Blood God #rp #dream smp

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problematicdemon · 2 years

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Miranda x Vera!!

Starting out strong from the wheel with:

Veranda~♡

Tap for better resolution

Veranda is a Sea Serpant

Devilishly mishevious yet seemingly incredibly stupid, Veranda manages to be the perfect amount of dumb to fool anyone into thinking that she'd ever be good at manipulation!

She adores cruelty (especially in the name of the crown) to a nearly sickening extent, almost as much as she loves money!

She can breathe underwater, and shoot an icy glare so horrifying that you freeze in place! Your insides slowly being transformed into water !

Money is a second nature to her. Appease her with money. Date her with money, hell, if you gave her enough, she might even say she'll let you eat her only to turn around and bail on you because fuck you.

Only skill needed to date her is money. Nothing else. 50 money or you might as well be dead to her.

#monster prom #vera oberlin #miranda vanderbilt #vera x miranda #fanchild #monster prom fanart

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heliads · 3 years

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Time Can Heal (But This Won’t) Chapter Three: Bloodstains

You’ve been a lone demigoddess, daughter of Hecate, ever since your home of Hellas sank beneath the waves centuries ago. You loved the Darkling until he crossed you and you fled the Little Palace. Now you’re disguised as a mere cartographer. Can you face him again, knowing what he’s done?

previous / series masterlist / next

There was no way around it, no way to avoid it. Like it or not, you would be returning to the only place you’ve ever truly called home since you left behind the sinking shores of Hellas, past a people who would never rise again. You had seen Os Alta built, walked the newly constructed halls of the Grand and Little Palaces with the Darkling before you knew enough to run from him. This is where you’ll be going- not to a new future, but a chance to drown in all the memories you’ve tried so hard to forget.

However, you’ll have to survive the journey to Os Alta first. You’re not here as an esteemed guest or prisoner, you’re here as a double, a lure. Someone who can be killed so that Alina Starkov walks out alive. You know this as well as your ice-eyed Darkling who rides next to you, who thinks nothing of you but that you share a name with a woman he thought he could manipulate. That is all.

So you force your gaze away from the Darkling and back towards your hands, which grip the reins of your offered steed. You mentally catalogue the scant few weapons you had on you before you were dragged along after Alina- two knives, a medium length dagger, and the small pistol all First Army soldiers were forced to have on them. You’ve never particularly cared for guns, though- they’re dirty, loud things, nothing compared to the damage you could wreak with a syllable from your tongue. Then again, if it came down to it, you’d rather have a pistol in your palm then risk using your magic in front of the Darkling. In the end, you’re here to stay hidden, not reveal yourself in the most dramatic way possible.

That being said, you can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. You’ve learned long ago to listen to the voices that whisper past your ear, speaking of dangers lurking in the woods and ill-intentioned beings who wait for women who walk alone. Some are remnants of past protection spells, and others are shades from the Underworld who’d managed to conjure up some corporeal strength and warn you of an attack. You are the last living Hellenid to walk the earth, and so they feel duty-bound to protect you. Through you, your people live on, and so even the dead watch your back.

So when the voices come, you listen. Your eyes flicker shut for just a second as you listen, past the thump of your heart and the pattern of horse hooves on the dusty ground. The carriage rolls noisily some distance in front of you, and then you hear it stop. Around the bend, you hear the disgruntled mutterings of the guards even though they’re too far for a human ear to pick up. A tree has fallen down, blocking the path. You know it’s a trap even before the shots ring out.

You hear the choked screams of men falling with arrows through their throats and eyes and begin to panic. They’ve come for Alina Starkov, the Sun Summoner who could damn the Fjerdans to a lifetime under Ravka’s watchful eye. They’ve come to kill her. You sense the Darkling rearing his horse beside you, and his stallion picks up into a canter. You don’t have to say a word, just listen to his commands to his men. There are more men attempting to circle behind you and pick you off, you can distract them and the remaining attackers trying to get into the carriage.

A Heartrender turns to you, gesturing for his fellow Grisha to follow you. “Come, Alina! We have to get you to safety!” This command is far too loud for any self-respecting Second Army soldier to ever utter, but to the Fjerdans, it is nothing out of the ordinary. Ravka already swears by its legions of witches, why shouldn’t the ice-haired drüskelle believe themselves above the pathetically obvious Grisha? They follow you without a second thought.

You wait a minute, listening to the sound of boots crashing through the forest floor after you, then jump down from your horse in one swift motion. Your knives appear in your hands and you sprint towards your attackers, knocking them down again and again. You slam the hilt of one knife into a Fjerdan’s nose, and you can hear the bone shatter as if it was your own. Light flashes off of the Grisha steel blades as you slash and stab, drawing blood without taking a break.

A small part of your mind gleefully notices the way the Fjerdans are running towards you now, drawn towards the sunlight reflected by your knives. They think you the Sun Summoner now, all because of metal polished to a shine. And why shouldn’t they? You have enough power to tear this continent in half, to let the sun pierce the planet’s very core. Why shouldn’t you be feared? Why shouldn’t you be the Sun Summoner yourself?

The man in front of you cries out, and you come back to your senses. Your eyes follow your knife, twisting in his windpipe, and you withdraw it hastily. You wipe the scarlet blood on the grass before turning to fight another Fjerdan attacker, but none come forward. You realize that they’re all dead, either by your hand or by the Heartrenders. Although, you notice with a sickening twist, most are killed by you. You’re supposed to be a shy First Army soldier, and you’re not exactly playing your part quite right.

Across a clearing, you see the Darkling helping Alina to her feet. She looks stunned, most likely due to the body of a Fjerdan lying at her toes. It’s been sliced perfectly in half- so he’s used the Cut. No wonder she looks as if the world has just been exposed for being woven from nightmares. She glances over at you and blanches even further. Shame twists in your gut as you realize your hands are covered in blood, none of it yours. You were borne of a race of warriors, fighting has been in your history for as long as Hellas has stood. To Alina Starkov, however, this is a massacre like she’s never seen before. You carefully sheath your knives again once you’re sure there’s no blood left on them.

You stare at the bodies, forcing your eyes to remember every last detail. May your gods or their Saints watch over them, wherever they may go. You don’t have enough coins to place under their tongues as per the Hellan tradition, although even if you did you couldn’t risk drawing the Darkling’s attention with such a specific ritual. Instead, you burn their faces into your mind. Memories and legacies were how your people retained their power, and being forgotten was a large part of how they crumbled away. At last you can remember these men.

A voice sounds from in front of you, and you look up hastily. “Do not pity them. They attacked the Sun Summoner, your friend.” The Darkling stands before you, something strange in his eyes. You’ve seen this look before, a few centuries ago. You had been careful to hide the true extent of your magic from him, perhaps knowing even then that he would want nothing more from you then the power you could give him.

In that long ago instant, you had let go, allowing your spells to run wild as stallions through the air. You were attacked, yes, but you had used it as an excuse for true bloodshed. It had been so long since you had truly tested your limits, always making sure to hide what you truly were, even from the other Grisha. You wanted to see what you could do, just this once. Even then, you were just scratching the surface, but the wash of inky emerald over the scene threatened to drown out the world. Bodies dropped, trees were stripped of bark, entire buildings crumbled despite the strongest of foundations.

The few other Grisha present looked at you with true horror, but not the Darkling. No, he looked at you as he does now, with a sort of hunger that could consume entire countries and never be filled. He saw no girl or lover, he saw a weapon. He saw you standing before him, pulling a blade from your chest and offering him the hilt. He’d take it, not caring (or even relishing) your blood still dripping from the blade. The things he could do with you were unimaginable even in your worst nightmares, and it would never be enough. The worst part is that you thought you might go along with it, that you’d be willing to watch the end of the world with him.

This is how the Darkling looks at you now, a weapon ready for the taking. You remember hastily that he’s likely expecting something of you, so you duck your chin and do your best to summon up the modesty expected by the likes of Y/N Stassov, mapmaker and nothing more. “It’s just, well, a lot of death.” The Darkling inclines his head. “Maybe. Where did you learn to fight like that?” You don’t like this line of questioning, where it could lead. “The First Army. Sir.”

The Darkling’s lips quirk at the last minute honorific. “I’ve seen no First Army mapmaker who could take out a dozen Fjerdans with a pair of knives. Maybe I should send some of my soldiers to learn from your generals.” You panic, sure he’s testing you, then realize that he’s joking. Ridiculous. You force a smile. “I think they’re probably fine with their heartrending and all that.” The two of you have begun walking back to the horses now. The Darkling mounts his steed, then looks back at you. “Maybe so.” When he takes off, you’re not sure which scares you most- him figuring out who you are, or the idea that he would not look for you at all.

The Darkling calls for the party to take a respite that night, waiting until the moon shines low in the sky for everyone to tie up their horses and rest in a long-abandoned barn. Alina runs over to you as soon as she gets off of her mount, flinging her arms around you in gratitude. You can tell from the hammering of her heart whenever she looks at the Darkling that she hasn’t forgotten his use of the Cut, and probably won’t for a while.

“Saints, Y/N, I’m so glad you’re here. I couldn’t do this alone.” You can sense the eyes of the Darkling and the other Grisha on your back, and you know what’s expected of you. To them, you are no more than an otkazat’sya mapmaker, someone utterly unworthy of their Sun Summoner’s company. They’ll leave you to make your way back to Kribirsk when Alina is safe at the Little Palace, and they no doubt expect you to make her path easier.

So, you smile, smoothing back an errant piece of her hair into place. “That’s a lie, and we both know that. If you can punch an irritating officer or survive the Fold, you can ride a horse to Os Alta. Promise.” Alina rolls her eyes. “It’s not like that.” You raise an eyebrow. “It totally is. Believe me. Now come on, chasing after you all day is exhausting. I intend to go to sleep right now.” Alina grins. “That sounds good to me.”

Despite your weary eyes, you can’t seem to fall asleep at all. Alina sleeps next to you, the few Grisha lookouts stand unmoving at their posts. Eventually, you get sick of tossing and turning and staring up through the rotting beams through the barn roof. You stand, making your way quietly out of the barn. If the sentries see you, they do not stop you. Evidently, they trust you enough to let you walk around, or they view you as useless enough to not stop you from trying to run. Either works for you.

You don’t go far, just outside of the doors lying at odd angles on their hinges. You take a seat on a rusting metal bench, leaning back against the faded paint of the barn walls. You stare up at the sky, eyes tracing the constellations. Somewhere up in the night, there were once heroes and monsters, prideful queens and stubborn kings whose stories were famous enough to warrant them a place amongst the stars. You’ve been looking for them for a while, though, and know that the skies are empty of all souls who were once cast up there. It’s just another reminder that you are well and truly alone. The last remainder of a long dead culture.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” You startle, turning to see the Darkling walking out of the barn beside you. You manage to cover up your surprise with an apology. “Sorry, I didn’t think I’d woken anybody.” The Darkling shrugs. “You didn’t. I was already awake.” This feels somewhat surreal- here you sit, a false face and a fake history as a farmer turned soldier. Here stands the Darkling, looking just the same as always. It makes no sense, though- why would he keep seeking you out? Why would the general of the Second Army keep looking for an otkazat’sya soldier? He must know you, somehow. There’s no other explanation for it.

The Darkling clears his throat. “Thank you for speaking to Alina. I appreciate your words.” You dismiss the gratitude with a lift of your shoulder. “She’s my friend. I couldn’t exactly make her feel worse, could I?” The Darkling turns to look at you now, familiar quartz eyes seeming to tear you in two. “You could. You could have refused to play along with the role of double, you could have refused to fight by her side, you could have done your best to turn her away from us. You did none of that.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I could have resisted a team of the most skilled Grisha in all of Ravka? I intend to keep my life.” Something almost like a smile appears on the Darkling’s lips. You’ve seen this look before, in sunset afternoons and deepest nights. It’s so familiar that it seems to cut at you like a knife. You almost want to call out to him now- know me, please. Remember me. If you look close enough, you will see the woman you pretended to love. We could pretend again, if we wanted to.

You silent the murmurings, and he speaks again. “All the same, it was appreciated.” You turn back towards the sky, partly to take in the sight of the night sky again and partially to hide the smile giddily appearing on your own face. How is that after all this time, all these hurts, he still has this effect on you? “Well, I want her to have some good memories after this. I’ll be shipped back to Kribirsk, I don’t really want to leave on bad terms.”

The Darkling remains silent for so long that you’re worried you’ve said something wrong, opened up too much. A simple mapmaker would never confide in a centuries-old Shadow Summoner, he must suspect something. Surely, hopefully, he does. But instead, he turns to you, a softness present in his eyes that wasn’t there before. It rounds the edges of his quartz gaze, making it easier to fall hard and fast. “You aren’t going to leave for Kribirsk. You’re staying in Os Alta.”

You stare at him, night sky forgotten. “What? But I’m no Sun Summoner.” The Darkling laughs quietly in the night. “No, but few of us are. I have a personal guard, the oprichniki. I would like you to begin training with them once we arrive.” The sentence is phrased so casually that it almost floats by you completely undetected. The monumental weight of the words, however, is enough to shake you whole. The oprichniki are not Grisha, so you would fit in, but they are the Darkling’s special guards. Only the toughest and bravest of fighters are selected, certainly not a mapmaker who’s best skill is pretending to be a Sun Summoner.

You tell him as much, so stunned by this that you forget to hold your tongue. When you remember who you are and who you’re doing your best to pretend you’re not, you wish you had remained silent. For some reason, however, the Darkling doesn’t seem taken aback by this momentary lapse. Instead, it just makes his lips twitch even more. He is most certainly hiding a smile. “I saw you fight, Miss Stassov. If you can do that without any of our training at all, I’d say you’re a good candidate.”

You lean back against the barn wall. “Oprichnik. Me.” You whistle quietly, letting the sound echo in the night air like the call of a dove. The Darkling inclines his head. “You are free to turn the offer down at any point-” his smile grows at your raised eyebrow- “Although it is not an offer I take lightly. You have potential. Besides, keeping you in Os Alta will be a support for Miss Starkov.”

You furrow your brow. “I thought you would want to separate her from her old life, not keep having ties to it.” It’s what the Darkling would do when you knew him. He would have cut out another mapmaker without a second thought. The Darkling considers this. “Perhaps. But if she feels too alone, she may draw in on herself and feel unwilling to use her power at all. You have your merits, Miss Stassov. Perhaps more than you see yourself.”

You barely hear him when he goes back inside the barn. He has always had this ability to disguise his footsteps, letting the shadows cloak him in sound as well as in sight. For once, it doesn’t trouble you. Instead, you’re troubled by the future ahead of you. If you were an oprichnik, a guard loyal only to him, there would be even more chance of the Darkling finding out that you were Hecari, the woman he’d loved and who had run from him, feigning death rather than stay by his side and fear his knife.

Being near him, though, it makes you think back to every moment you’d shared. Could it be possible that you had misheard? Would the man you know, the man drenched by moonlight who makes offers of joining the ranks of the oprichniki to mapmakers he’s barely met, truly want you dead? The answer is yes, you know that. But your heart whispers differently, telling you that you could be wrong on this. You’ve always trusted your whispers, the ghosts of the past. The only problem is that these aren’t Hellenid spirits now, they’re your own. Longings for what might have been, what you left behind.

In the end, you retreat back inside the barn. When you sleep, you dream of a quartz-eyed boy, dark-haired and smiling before he thought to use you.

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