#caves and cripples
They are in love ❤️
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(very slow) reconciliation
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wish i was confident enough to stream or make vids of me playing minecraft but most of it is just incoherent screams and me getting lost in caves sigh
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Poseidon: No, Hestia, sexual attraction is definitely a real thing.
Hestia: Like I'm gonna trust someone who lived in a cave his whole life.
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just some debbie after ruth breaks her heart wbu
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the jacob geller video about fear of depths makes me want to chew glass
"a gaping fascination at what lies beneath us, a fixation on the blackness" "we just can't resist to it. it is, in one of the most literal way possible, a call of the void" SHUT UPPPP
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tfw you’re not sure if you should let yourself buy the new Animal Crossing because you know you put down New Leaf after a few weeks when you felt bad about leaving for a while and letting your lil villagers down multiple times...
... but also New Horizons looks extremely cute and you’d really like some chill low stakes animal friend time right about now, plus decorations and fashions and neat long-distance friendship town visits....
EDIT: nbd I’m gonna cry thank you someone just tipped me enough to get AC:NH (⁄ ⁄@⁄ ▽ ⁄@⁄ ⁄) It means the world and I’m obviously already messaging you but,, thank you again I’m floored and so, so excited to get to play too ;////;
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If anyone’s looking to get anxiety so bad you can’t breathe then boy oh boy do I have the thing for you! Just play the caves and cliffs update for minecraft
if the utter isolation doesn’t get to you, then the fear that you might not be truly alone will!
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//catch me lurkin bc what is sleep it escapes me. so uh, anyone up for plotting? Bc i got a helluva lotta unworthy!th.or muse
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i love this game
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After all these years <3
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So my main team of favorites consist of Xiao, Albedo, Aloy, and Qiqi. And my thought process went with Rejected! Darling SAGAU.
I like the idea that some characters can tell it’s their Creator even though everyone else calls Reader an imposter.￼ Because they know the Reader’s godly aura from anywhere.
Quick Headcannon: only Creator and those they favor can use Teleport Waypoints.
After Reader is chased out by Mondstat, they run into Aloy literally. But she knew the Creator and God the moment she looked at them. So Aloy figured out who Reader favored, in this case being the aforementioned characters, and seeks them out with the Reader’s help.
Albedo is the first one they look for, since he could hide Reader. No one thought to look on Dragonspine.
Aloy then went to get Xiao and Qiqi. Because she was an outlander and no one saw her with Reader, everyone pretty much ignored her. It worked in her favor as she could get to Qiqi in the middle of a crazed Liyue.
Qiqi went with Aloy no problem. She forgot about the supposed imposter and knew the Creator was in Teyvat somewhere. It felt like a gut instinct to her. Even if she forgot everything else, she would always remember the Creator and how they guided her with love and care.
Xiao was harder to convince. He had a feeling that the Creator descended into Teyvat as well. But Zhongli ordered him to kill the imposter of their beloved God. Aloy is only able to get him to Dragonspine with an agreement. “If the one I take you to is not your Creator, feel free to strike us down where we stand.” He was mostly convinced when Aloy suddenly teleported them all to Dragonspine.
They work together to at least get everyone else to stop hunting their Creator down.
Now if we go the forgiveness route, Reader never goes anywhere without Xiao, Albedo, or Aloy. They reject all other gifts and pleas for forgiveness. Reader only wants to stand by the ones who protected them.
If we go the vengeance route, they would absolutely tear down the three nations that tortured their god. And Aloy is the one leading the army of the Abyss into battle.
So that was a massive block of text. I may send more in the future, but this is the best I can do for now.
This is awesome! I’ve written the first part when Darling meets Aloy. It’s long, so I’m going to put it below the line.
SAGAO Work 22, fluff
TLDR: You finally bump into your first actual ally, Aloy. She heals you and lets you take shelter at her tent, inside a hidden cave.
You’ve been running for hours—almost the entire morning. Your original physical strength is not affecting you since your life now depends on your character attributes.
You’re only lucky that, as their Creator, you have incredibly high stats for Health, Stamina, and Elemental Mastery. It seems like the Attack and Defence stats are to be unlocked manually. [here’s the link to the bonus work expanding on this! <3]
It took multiple life-threatening situations to wake you up to the nightmarish fact that- it’s all real. You’re really in the world you once thought was wholly fictional, trapped and unable to return to your homeworld.
You rely on Teyvat’s spirits, yes plural, to guide you and warn you against sneak attacks and ambushes. Sometimes you barely escape, hurt but alive. The gashes and bruises still haven’t faded yet. You’ve been captured by one of the soldiers, but this world always assisted you to run away right before it escalated. Right before the vision-bearers come to cripple you further.
This whole day, Teyvat’s been urging you, in some sort, to a specific location. It’s constantly changing as if it’s a moving lifeform? You question. With nowhere left to go, you gladly oblige.
You chose to hide until night when most of your enemies are retiring to their beds. You start creeping away from the remaining manhunters.
As you finally near the destination, you continue to sprint to what you assume is a safe haven. In your urgency, you run into Aloy.
No, seriously, you literally rammed headfirst into her by accident.
She had suddenly sprung from her hiding spot to go collect her foul; at the same time, you were running past her bush. You fell back more than she did because of your defence stats. It’s by pure luck that your health was only barely chipped away by ten dmg. But then, you’ve already gotten slashed with Mondstadt swords before bumping into Aloy from the hostile citizens, so it hurt more than expected. You reflexively wince for what, the seventh time, today.
You were dizzy from the collision and bewilderment. When you look up, you see her freckled face gazing at you with a confused expression. After both of you stopped gawking, she extended her strong hands to pull you up. You cringe when she moves but shakingly extend yours as she heaves you up with both hands. You choose to trust Teyvat and the woman in front of you, seeing that her expression was more of genuine concern instead of the usual burning hatred.
When she’s in direct physical contact, your aura is transmitted and pulsed stronger. It eased her nerves, and it felt… so familiar.
Her green eyes lit up in shock.
You were them!
The Creator who had soothed her nerves and emotions when she was grieving her father figure’s passing.
Your aura washes over her once again.
Pleasantly, like a sacred hearth in Dragonspine. She was the traveller searching for heat, and you were the generous heat source she recognised at first sight.
Her rediscovering you in person was a refreshing revolution, the sensation only adequately described with exclamations of “Eureka!” by Archimedes as he burst through the rippling waters.
The relief caged birds feel when finally released into freedom in the skies.
The soft feeling of tightly hugging someone you care about, not suffocating, but just the thing you need to lessen your stresses.
An eternity passed in that single second, but she does quickly snap back to reality. She catches glimpses of your injuries through the tattered clothes you wear and how you winced as you stood up. “I’m Alloy.” As curt as usual.
She may be blunt, but she’s not dumb nor mean-spirited. She took note not to initiate any physical contact until you’ve eased around her. Instincts taught her to nod in acknowledgement instead.
She offers to heal and shelter you for the moment, compelled by your aura and the subliminal pleas from Teyvat. You agree since you need genuine help to avoid manhunts for the night. You’ve barely survived another morning today.
After settling you into her concealed tent/home, she starts making a plate of Satiety Gel with the spare mints and sugar she hid in the back of her cave. “Got something for you.” She passed you the plate and gave you a side-smile as you happily dug into the dish. Good. You needed the rest and health. It’s also nice for her cooking to be appreciated. You thank her, and she dismisses it, rising from her seating position.
While you’re gingerly eating the special plate of gel, she rummaged through her stocks of necessities. “Let's see, that looks edible... and this looks useful.” You’ll need a new set of garbs if you are to live in the wildernesses with her. It’s doubtful that the chaos in the cities signifies any chance of you having any semblance of safety in there.
She’d also need to hunt for more food and preserve spares. The life she leads is no longer solitary, and she’d have to keep you safe and fed until you are strong enough to protect yourself fully. She will be caring and loyal to you, in similar ways to how Rost had taken care of her.
You were the saviour they mistook as an imposter, and Aloy would be yours in turn for their wrongdoings. She’ll be your caring companion. She will be your first loyal follower, the one who’ll lead your future rebellions, wars, peace, comfort. She’ll be the knight by your side that’ll do your justified biddings.
As nightfalls, she tells you to stay inside and rest. She headed out to set traps for any intruders and went hunting again. Some animals and enemies lay dormant until the moon rises, and it won’t hurt to seek out any food, materials, or trustable allies. Not that she’d be looking for an army first and foremost.
“I'll do whatever it takes to protect you. I won't hesitate. I won't falter.” She swears as she rests her eyes on your curled-up form before leaving the cave. You’ve started slipping into the land of dreams from exhaustion. It’s good that you feel safe enough to doze off.
She’d stopped your bleeding gashes, and she’d be stopping armies of machinery for you. She only hopes that they’ll be unable to find you two until you’re prepared, bows repaired and arrows slung.
She hopes you’ll be using your future powers and aura for life, not for death. She’s here for you, partly in the hope that you’ll be a benevolent god/goddess. She’s more than sure that it’s needed for the sake of Teyvat-and that she has to care for its people no matter what.
You’ll both have to see what happens then.
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— techno wants to get married, you dont.
a/n — aaaaaaaaaaaaa this went in a completely opposite direction to what i originally had planned
ft —c!technoblade x reader
wc — 0.5k
tw — talk of marriage, reader's insecurities, swearing
genre — fluffy fluff, angst if u close ur eyes while readin, happy ending
“well, why not?” he asks, you sigh.
“it’s not my thing, tech. i've told you.”
“so you have, with the same ridiculous reasons you always use.” he grumbles, voice laced with sleep and annoyance. you turn your head to look at him, eyes narrowing at the childlike tantrum your beloved boyfriend is currently throwing right before bed. it reminds you of that time you'd stupidly gone into the nether without your gold armour - a death wish, basically. the piglins angry squeals still ring in your ears when you think about it, and you wonder if his halfbreed nature makes him similar in that way.
"techno," you mumble, shuffling closer. he ignores you, but you don't miss the way his eyebrows furrow. "my ares," you whisper, and you know you're close to the finish line when his ears twitch and his nose crinkles up. "you know i love you, more than anything and anyone." he makes a noise in agreement, but makes no move to say anything further, "what i'm trying to say, is that i don't need a document to show my love to you - our love." you tell him, although decide to leave out the part about your crippling fear of commitment. i mean, it is still half of the truth.
"i know," he groans, finally rolling over to face you, "it's not about the document, i just…" he trails off, red eyes flitting across the room as he avoids your gaze.
"what?" he opens his mouth to speak, and you beat him to it quickly. "-and no, it's definitely not 'nothing' nor 'stupid'." he chuckles, a deep and airy sort of laugh that makes you involuntarily blush.
"alright," he caves. "i don't know, i don't care about some legal document either- well, i don't care about many legal things…" he laughs to himself lightly at his own comment. "-but, wouldn't it be… nice? i-i don't know, i just think the idea of showing our love to each other like that would be nice, uh - cute, fuckin' adorable- i don't know! whatever you wanna say about it…" he begins mumbling towards the end, and you take it as your cue to finally speak.
"that would be fuckin' adorable." you agree, feeling a sense of pride when he smiles softly. it's a warm feeling that blossoms in your chest and keeps running through your veins as you look at him. truth be told, you were still terrified - but of what exactly? being with techno felt good. secure. enough to rid you of your insecurities, or your inexplicable hate of legal documents.
"okay," it takes you a second to continue, cheeks ablaze despite the aloof look you try to keep on, "at least propose to me first."
you roll over, facing away from him in embarrassment. "you heard me - you're always going on about marrying me but you've never even tried to propose," you scoff, trying not to let him see the way your fingers tremble slightly. he doesn't answer for a moment, and you almost give in to turn around. almost.
"so… any random thoughts on emerald rings?"
reblog for a kiss goodnight
© beelzebubaz 2021 - do not repost, translate, modify or plagiarize my work
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Pairing: Pero Tovar/Virgin!Reader
Work Count: 3.2k
Summary: You and Pero spend your first night together, which is your first night with anyone.
Warnings: you guys have penis in vagina sex. Some descriptions/mentions of violence, reference to painful loss of virginity, but we all know Pero’s too good to do that to you
You were a walking contradiction. Nothing was more confusing or intriguing to Pero Tovar than how you managed to exist in these times.
When he’d been introduced to you (it was generous to call it an introduction, seeing as Tovar more or less refused to acknowledge you at the time) he saw you the way he saw most everyone: an annoyance at best, a punishment from god at worst. When he glanced at you, he saw just a little thing, a girl who ought to be at home, out of her depths.
He first beheld your beauty through a veil of bloodshed. On the battlefield you had no equal. People throughout his travels often equated grace to beauty, but in observing you, Pero found that simply wasn’t so. You did not dance with the blade, like twirled silk. What you did was not akin to dancing. It was heavy and destructive, you took to you enemies with the crushing force of a mortar and pestle. You wielded the heavy and challenging kanabo, the force of which caved armor and shattered bones, man and beast alike. When you swung the heavy bat, you looked as a healer pounding medicine. The force itself was destructive, but it was delivered with the righteousness of someone who was preserving life.
You could not always use the kanabo, and you most certainly could not spar with it, for your opponents would be crippled by even a sporting blow. So Tovar sometimes saw your prowess with the sword, the staff, anything nearby. You made many an arrogant man eat their words.
Now, when he was to imagine a beautiful woman, he did not think of flowing locks and fair skin wrapped in silks. He saw sword-cut hair, an oversized tunic, the loosening laces on leather armor.
And beyond the fighting, you did not often make with revelry. Tense in the company of most others in your band of mercenaries, you kept away when they became excited. When you approached him, scowling as he wolfed down his food alone, he dreaded having to endure niceties, persuasions, and prattel from you, and had already decided to be as disagreeable as possible. To his utter surprise, you said nothing to him at all as you kept a couple of meters distance and ate your own meal. You did so day after day, and at first he had been paranoid that this was some plot at inching your way closer, that one day you would ruin this silence and reveal your true intentions. Until one night, Tovar found himself doing something unthinkable: initiating conversation. Or at least, speaking unprompted.
“You do not chatter like the others,” he stated almost mindlessly, not knowing what he was expecting by saying so.
“I try not to talk when I have nothing to say,” you admitted. You looked towards him, half illuminated by the distant, flickering fire.
He found himself studying every detail of your face from the corner of his eye. It was terrifying, for once wanting to observe and actually caring if he was noticed doing so.
“And,” you continued quietly, “they say you do not like to be disturbed.” That was a very kind way of rephrasing how he was often spoken of. In all likelihood, what you were actually told was probably more along the lines of ‘he’s a mean, miserable bastard who doesn’t like anyone’. Tovar didn’t know how he felt about your twisting such words into something that sounded… reasonable.
“I don’t like being disturbed either.”
Now, when he was to imagine a beautiful woman, he did not think of lip rouge and silent, unnoticed steps, or curled, dark lashes, of coquettish smirks. He thought of a split lip, and the uneven pace of worn leather kicking at stray pebbles, of tired eyes rubbed with the back of the hand after looking into the fire too long, of the struggle to hold back a wide-mouthed yawn.
Through a few well placed miracles and the incessant meddling of others (William) the two of you had ended up together. And this was when Pero discovered what a contradiction you were.
You knew death in every facet… except for la petite mort.
While other girls snuck off with their paramours in experimental forays of intimacy, you were studying the blade, the staff, the bow, the kusarigama. Raised by a father and uncles who loved you, but did not know how to raise a young lady. Only how to raise a fighter.
When you didn’t scare off any potential suitors, they certainly did.
While younger than Pero, you were still fully grown, and had yet to even kiss a man until Pero had claimed your lips in a passionate fury on the night of his confession.
Pero did not fancy himself a teacher, he saw himself as a taker, one with no patience for uncertainties and incompetence. But for you, he would be anything. And regardless of what he was, what you deserved was a gentle touch. Subtle, comforting, patient, and understanding.
All words that had never been used to describe him.
Over time, the kisses grew deeper, the touches flirted further beneath the clothes, until the night came where he held you against him in his bed, eyes begging for more as you looked to him for guidance. Never had he been so frightened at the thought of bedding a woman. He was a scoundrel with hands only fit for killing, and he was terrified of hurting you somehow.
But he’d be damned if anyone else took this honor.
With every piece of clothing he stripped your body of, you looked at him with such trust. He felt your heart beating in his rough palms, like the flutter of a bird’s wings. Never before had he been responsible for something so pure, so delicate. His relations before you were intimacies he had paid for in coin, encounters that didn’t require any gentleness on his part, where he cared little about any pleasure or pain besides his own. If he were to do one thing in his life with tact and delicacy, it would be this, he promised himself.
“Tell me again, hermosa, how many before me have seen this beautiful body?”
“N-none. You’re the first, Pero.”
He hums in satisfaction, running his hands up your stomach to cup your breasts. His thumbs stroke over the hardening peaks, causing a hitch in your breath as you shudder.
“Oh, mi conejita, so sensitive,” he descends, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking almost harshly for just a moment before pulling away, admiring how your breast shines with his spit. You squeak out a shaking moan. “I wonder if you’re this sensitive everywhere else? Don’t tell me. I’ll find out myself.”
You feel your cheeks heat at his words, feeling the urge to curl in on yourself and hide. But Pero keeps you bare to him as he lavishes eager attention on your breasts, enjoying the whines half-caught in your throat. By the time your nipples are perked and wet from Pero’s hot mouth, your blush has spread down to your collar. He pulls away slightly, gently guiding you to lay down. He takes your thighs in his strong hands and spreads them further apart. His thumbs spread your lips so get a good look at your pink, silky hole twitching with a need you’ve never known before.
Your breath hitches as one of his fingers traces along your sensitive lips, brushing against your clit briefly before beginning to sink into you slowly. He rocks it back and forth gently while admiring the rise and fall of your chest, the way your eyelids flutter as you go between wanting to watch and being too bashful to. His thumb gently strokes your clit as he works to ease in another finger, and you tense harshly at the new intrusion. He leans down to press a few reassuring kisses against your neck.
“Relax, querida. Let me in.” He whispers, moving his lips to your mouth in an effort to distract you as he coaxes you open. His cock was heavy and hard against the laces of his trousers. You would see it soon, but Pero doesn’t want to overwhelm you. Not yet, anyways.
You breathe deeply in an attempt to relax your muscles as Pero’s fingers reach farther than yours ever could, and it feels as if he holds all of your bodily feelings in the palm of his hand. He continues to coo endearments against your neck to comfort you.
“Bueno, bueno… you’ve gotten nice and wet for me, cariño, so good for me,” a smirk spreads across his face as he feels you tighten with his words. “Oh, you like it when I talk, niña?” He teases, increasing the pace as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the tight circles he’s rubbing into your clit on the verge of driving you mad.
He parts from your neck to take a look at your face in pleasure, and finds himself enraptured by the slight furrow of your brows and the way your eyelids flutter when he strokes the right part of your insides. Your quiet huffing and mewling, combined with the way your cunt is gripping at his fingers, has him more riled up than he’d like to admit.
“Pero, I-I I think I’m gonna cum,” you whine, looking at him with pleading eyes. He bristles with pride as your hips move to meet the palm of his hand while chasing the pleasure he gives you.
“Cum then, muñeca. Cum for me.”
The coil in your belly winds so tightly it snaps, and white hot pleasure floods your system. Pero groans as you cream on his fingers, feeling his cock throb harshly for the umpteenth time tonight. A tremor wracks your body as the mercenary continues rocking his fingers gently to help you ride out your climax. When they withdraw, he doesn’t hesitate to lick them clean, much to your embarrassment. The sight of his tongue against your slick on his hand gives you… ideas. Ideas that will have to wait until another night, maybe.
He leans down to plant a chaste kiss to your lips before bringing you to sit up. He wants to see what else you’ve never done. Wants to know how curious you are.
Pero places one of your hands (which feel so small in his) against the tent in his pants, encouraging you to explore his body the way you’ve so graciously allowed him to explore yours. His tunic is already off, but of course, you’ve seen men shirtless before. His cock feels hot and hard through his trousers, and the apprehension is probably clear on your flustered face, but Tovar finds this entire situation incredibly arousing.
He’s no stranger to sex, but most of his previous sexual encounters had been paid for and, thusly, were with experienced (and sometimes jaded) partners. Though the size of his cock may have impressed a few, it had never been the first they’d seen, touched, or taken. This was different.
His eyes never leave your face as you bite your lip, occasionally looking to him for approval as you move to undo the laces on his trousers. His eyes are lidded and dark with desire, and a smile crosses his face, a little more genuine than the usual smirks he throws in your direction.
“Go on,” he urges, more gently than he knew himself capable. You finally slip down his waistband and smallclothes, and his cock lands heavy against his stomach as he reclines just slightly. You try to contain your startled gasp, attempting to seem less like the blushing virgin you clearly are. The way your lips part ever so slightly as you examine his red, leaking cock with nervous interest sends the mercenary reeling.
Pero almost takes your hesitance as fear, which he’s determined to quell, before you finally reach your hands out to run them along the hard length, drawing a ragged groan from him.
For a moment, Pero feels the strongest compulsion to take charge of you. To guide your head down and order you to get his cock nice and wet before he takes you, to see tears prick at your eyes while you struggle to take his cock in your little mouth.
But, somewhat regrettably, he remembers his first time with a woman well. He remembers the nerves burning against his skin like a thousand needles, the fear of performing well and doing things he’d never even imagined doing. He can only imagine that fear to be tenfold for a girl. You’ve spent years in the company of brash mercenaries, uncouth enough that they brag of their rough, bruising conquests. He knows the type. And what women you do meet often speak of intimacy with dread, or reflect on the pain of their first times.
You are one of the few things in Pero Tovar’s life that he has ever really cared for. And his greatest wish is to make you feel cared for. He has never known patience. But for you, he shall have it in spades. You’ll have plenty of time to play rough later. Or never, if that’s what you want.
Not to mention, he’s just about as hard as he’s ever been in his entire life, and he doubts he would last in your mouth, not with the passionate stare you’re giving him. You have, after all, always been a quick learner when it came to the sword. The way you start experimentally moving your hands along his cock confirm this, as he sighs in pleasure from the light pressure you’re giving him.
“This the first cock you’ve seen up close, hermosa?” you nod, and that teasing smile is once again set on his face. “What do you think of it?”
Your eyes widen just slightly at the question. He takes one of your hands and spits in it before letting you continue to stroke his cock, still patiently awaiting an answer.
“Are they all… like this?” Pero has a feeling he knows what you mean, but he wants you to say it.
“Like what, preciosa?”
He chuckles quietly before cupping your chin in his hand and bringing you towards him for another bout of fervent kisses. In these moments, and most others, he looks at you and sees everything he’s ever wanted. He presses his forehead to yours when he finally parts from your lips.
“No, amor, not all,” he pauses in thought, somewhat uncharacteristically. “Are you worried?”
“...Yes.” The mercenary appreciates your honesty. For your entire life, you have had to be brave. He doesn’t want you to have to be brave with him. He’s never been trusted with something as precious as you. He calls your name with the same softness he feels for you.
“I will never hurt you,” he promises. “And…” his need causes him to struggle with the next part. He’s still not used to being sensitive, not used to caring so much. “We do not have to do this.”
Pero can see the fire ignite in your eyes, that same passion he sees when you get up right after being knocked down.
“I want to, Pero, I want to. Will you take care of me?” his eyes have their own fire now. He guides you down onto your back once again and leans over you. His cock leaks against the soft skin of your belly as he kisses up your neck, sucking in marks as he goes.
“Forever,” he swears.
Pero hoists himself up to look into your eyes as his cock catches at your entrance for the first time. He pushes himself in just barely, giving you a little more each time as he shallowly rocks into you. He watches, feeling lovestruck, as your breasts rise and fall with each short breath you take as he eases himself deeper into your heat.
When Pero Tovar met you, he didn’t exactly respect you, but he wouldn’t have called you soft. You proved quickly that you were a better warrior than most men he’d met, and despite the roughness and inconveniences of mercenary life, you didn’t complain. In those early days, he’d have scarcely called you a woman at all.
But here you were beneath him, soft and warm, and everything he’d never imagined he could be trusted with. Long ago you reached your hands into his hardened chest, with all of its armor, and gripped his heart with all of the hope and reverence of a devout finding comfort in a rosary. The vice of your wet cunt on his cock was an extension of that. An inescapable binding that he had no desire to leave.
“You feel so good, querida, so tight and perfect against my cock.”
And so you pant, looking cherubic against the sheets with your splayed hair and flushed cheeks, lips plumped from Pero’s incessant kissing. The wet noises coming from between the two of you are obscene, and you love it.
“So good for me, amor, taking everything I have to give you.”
He wouldn’t last long. Not waiting as long as he has, not with you looking, sounding, and feeling the way you do. His thrusts aren’t punishing, but they sure as hell aren’t gentle, as he can only restrain himself from wrecking you for so long. And from the way he’s hitting that place inside that makes you sing, you won’t last either.
“Pero, I’m gonna— mmm I’m gonna cum again!” You keen, calling him back from his animalistic fervor. Pero stares into your eyes with a fire roaring behind his gaze.
“I want you to soak my cock, hermosa. Cum. Give me your pleasure, let me make you mine!”
“God— oh, fuck, I love you—“ you pant as he feels you clench deliciously around him. Any hope he had of holding on has fled now.
“Mi amor, let me cum in you, please, querida—“
“Please, do it Pero,”
You can feel the skin of his hips slap against yours as he pistons himself in and out of you, babbling about how beautiful you are and how good you feel until he can’t stand it anymore.
“Te amo, te amo, te amo!” He growls, ceasing his hips as he fills you with everything he has. You jolt at the sensation before relaxing again, his hot cum painting your walls. His elbows stop him from collapsing right onto you, but he can feel your breasts brush against his chest with every breath the both of you take.
He basks in this moment for a while longer before pulling himself out gently, resolving to clean the both of you properly later. Pero lets himself fall beside you in bed, still breathing a little heavily.
“Come here, querida.”
Pero stares at the ceiling as your weight comes to rest against his chest, warm in ways he cannot describe. The arm around you tightens, as if he wishes to pull you further into him.
“Are you… do you feel alright, mi amor? I didn’t hurt you?”
“Never, Pero. I feel wonderful. Was it ok? For you, I mean. I know I’m… you’re probably not used to being with someone so inexperienced,” you trail off, feeling palpably insecure. He gently puts his hand beneath your chin to coax you into looking up at him from his chest.
“You don’t have to be anything more than what you are to be perfect for me, amor.”
Pedro Pascal: @auty-ren
From the preview post: @josepedropascal @tintinwrites @computeringturtle @kiwi-the-first
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Kaeya Alberich - Yandere Profile
YES I love my eyepatch boy!! I really like him as a yandere, because he's definitely got several traits and behaviors that would make him a very unconventional/different yet absolutely terrifying one to have. Him or Diluc as your yandere is basically like playing a game on maximum difficulty. He's so arrogant dammit why does he have to make it hot
More importantly, someone take the ability to write n/sfw away from me I s2g... I go from trying to make serious content to nasty weird kinks and completely feral in .002 seconds the moment I add that readmore
tws: gaslighting, manipulation, yandere, mentions of mutilation
tws (below cut): noncon, a good deal of sadism, mentions of an*l
What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?
He's actually one of the worst yanderes you could have in almost every regard, for two very simple reasons: his crippling psychological issues, and his intense selfishness. The first manifests as severe abandonment issues. It's the origin of his unhealthy feelings, most likely. Kaeya doesn't like the instability of people - based on his backstory, people always leave, or die, and even if they don't intend to, somehow it feels like abandonment, and he resents it. People leave him all alone and afraid and uncertain. That's generally all he knows, and despite the smug exterior, he's actually pushed people away quite a bit, keeps everyone at arm's length to ensure they can't become someone too important for him to accept their sudden absence. He can't care about someone, because that someone is fated to inevitably leave him, no matter who it may be.
That's why, once you manage to worm your way into his feelings and heart despite his best efforts, once he finally caves to acknowledging the feeling, he's aware. Painfully aware, because be can't stop worrying every waking moment about you, your well-being, your location. It reaches a point where he can't go about his job because he's simply too consumed with his worry.
The solution that kept him safest in the past was to avoid developing emotional attachments, but when he does, he's terrified of both your safety AND you intentionally abandoning him. Really, the latter would hurt worse, since he can't fault you for dying, but to abandon him? It would break him.
And, to some extent, he's developed a lot of prideful anger about it, deep, deep down. He feels that he doesn't deserve to be abandoned, doesn't deserve to just be left behind under the guise of some greater purpose, and he'll be damned if he just lets you toss him aside like he feels others did. Even if you reject him, he won't accept it. You don't get to reject him. He won't allow that. What has he ever done to deserve everything that's happened to him? Nothing. You're the one person who has stayed with him, and you're going to continue to be with him. Forever.
That being said, he's still somewhat confident because he's got that arrogance about him. He doesn't perceive rejection, because he's always gotten a lot of attention for his looks, even if he's never actually followed through on anyone else's attention out of those same fears. He'll write off any perceived rejection as being for some other reason, something besides an actual rejection, and he'll seek to eliminate whatever he feels is keeping you from just accepting him.
Honestly, one of the most likely to have a full blown, classic-yandere-style psychotic breakdown. He can be driven to a snapping point, if there's enough stress or obstacles, and in case of that, he'll be a lot more willing to kill, and a lot more willing to hurt you, but it's a point that would still take a lot to reach.
But what's really terrifying about Kaeya is his delusions, primarily his ability to mentally justify everything he does without hesitation. Even most delusional yanderes struggle - they feel like it's wrong, they know it is deep down, and they take time to convince themselves of their delusions, tell themselves it's ok over and over, beg for reassurance, and get defensive when called out because they know they're in the wrong. The same isn't true for Kaeya. He automatically justifies his actions by default, and has absolutely zero doubt or hesitation to do so. He doesn't even need a complex reason for justification - it's a simple one. He deserves what he wants. Anything necessary to achieve that is fair.
How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?
Highly likely and very quickly, right up there with Diluc and Razor. And he's absolutely remorseless about it. It ties back into his delusional state and ability to justify anything he does - this is what's best for you. If you don't get that, that's your problem, not his.
He's another one to not want to pull some barbaric move like knocking you out, rather, he'd rather just trick you into walking right into your new home. He gets that you'll be upset about it, but to him, that's just part of the process. Not that he'll tolerate it for too long. 12, maybe 24 hours is enough time for you to reasonably be upset, but if you're still trying to fight him on this after that, he's going to get snappy about it, thinking you should already be over that by now.
How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?
You're not leaving.
It's not worth trying, really. How he manages to do it is a mystery to you, but he'll manage to keep you locked in right there at the headquarters with him. How Jean and Lisa haven't found out about you being there, how he convinced all of his guards to be on his side of things, you have no idea. Realistically, if you get out, he's likely to make you out to be some kind of criminal that needs to be found -- just not to hurt you in any way, so goes the order, and the knights know better than to question why.
He has eyes and ears everywhere, it won't take them anytime at all to find you. He's so confident in that, and combined with his pride, he doesn't feel the need to go get you himself. No, it's a lot more satisfying to sit back and watch as they drag you through the doors of the headquarters, slowly pull you to the end of the room and drop you down at his feet, where he can look down on you with that closed-eyed, artificially wide smile that tells you that you have seriously fucked up.
Escape attempts aren't going to be met with a single shred of mercy, really. The thing about Kaeya is he's ultimately a selfish, selfish bastard with a lot of deep-seeded, highly repressed emotional issues, and he has absolutely no problem with keeping you bound hand and foot, or maybe even make some permanent modifications to your body if that's what it takes to keep you. It's not a wise idea to even try unless you're absolutely certain to succeed, otherwise you may find yourself never getting the opportunity again. You don't really need those Achilles tendons intact, you know. And your ankle bones are just so fragile, they'll snap with just a little twist. Actually, that wouldn't be too bad, giving you more reasons to be grateful when he's doing everything for you.
He's not one to just let it go, either. No, escape attempts are the one unforgivable thing for him, the one thing that will make him totally and completely snap. You don't get to do that. You're the one thing that doesn't get to just disappear out of his life in a flash. Half the reason he sends the knights to get you rather than going himself is to give him some time to let the rage settle down, otherwise he knows he might not be able to control himself and might end up hurting you even worse than he intends to. He's not going to buy any excuses and won't go any lighter on you if you beg and grovel or anything. But you will apologize -- you get to choose how hard it is. You can apologize the easy way, or, if you don't want to, there are many ways to force it out. But by the end, he'll get an apology, and a promise to never try again, out of you, no matter what that takes. It's by far the worst state you'll ever see him in, and really, once is enough to dissuade you from trying again.
How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?
You'd have to try pretty hard. He doesn't have the sheer amount of years of life experience like Venti or Zhongli, but he's not the captain for no reason - he's perceptive, and highly intelligent.
Rather than simply mastering reading human voice and facial expressions for telltale signs of deceit, he's good at learning individuals in particular - memorizing the patterns of thought and action of a particular individual, and predicting how they will act. He can do it with everyone else with ease, how much more, then, with the object of an obsession? If you're trying to formulate some plan to trick him, he'll already predict what you'll do, if you lie, he already knows. It's creepier than the others, really, because it's not just that he can tell when you're lying, but rather he already knows you're going to lie or try some scheme before you do it. It feels so tailored and personalized to your thought patterns, it almost feels like an invasion of the privacy of your mind, which, really, is the one privacy you thought you had left.
He's great at gaslighting himself, too. He's a very good liar, and can make you believe anything he wants. He'll target your fears and paranoias, make you believe you're going crazy, and he'll do it all so perfectly you'll never suspect a thing. You'll end up coming to him for protection and guidance, exactly as planned.
How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?
Pretty strict. He doesn't let you have any outside contact, and you're limited on what you can do when he's gone. He'll bring you some books, maybe something to draw on -- no sharp writing utensils, though. In his mind, that should be enough to occupy you.
You won't get outside walks or visits. It's just too risky for him, and he really doesn't like seeing other people look at you. If you really, really beg, and you've been on amazing behavior, and you're well into your relationship, maybe a few months or so, there's a chance he'll take you out at nighttime, or sunrise, but at the slightest sign of intentions he doesn't like, you'll be dragged back, and you won't see the sun for a long time.
You'll have a very limited wardrobe, he doesn't see why you even need to wear anything, but if you're going to be stubborn, he can get you something simple, like an old shirt and some underwear, but that's about all you can have. Any requests for actual clothing are going to be denied. It's ridiculous for him to spend money on something you don't need, and besides, he prefers it this way, y'know?
What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?
Generally, it's a simple one: obey. You do what he tells you to do, and you don't do something if he tells you not to. This stems to similar rules that develop: be submissive, don't be argumentative, don't be defiant. Follow those, and you can both be happy, and that's what you want, isn't it? It had better be - he's not very lenient, and will harshly punish even small offenses. As for that punishment... most of it isn't going to be sfw. That's just how he is.
What he will do is emotionally manipulate you, and he's rather good at it. You wanted to escape? Ok. He'll let you have your way, let you be alone. All alone. All by yourself, in a little room, with no one at all, which is exactly how you would have left him, had you succeeded. He knows very well how that kind of loneliness bites. He's not totally cruel, though, and he won't withhold affection from you by the time he returns -- he doesn't need to, you'll already be crying and apologizing, which is exactly what he hoped for. Not that he won't briefly mock you for it.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're crying like that because you actually missed me. Oh, you did? Being all alone isn't particularly fun, now is it? I'm sure you understand that now."
How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?
Kaeya's an insanely jealous person. It doesn't show on his face, but it eats at him internally. It doesn't matter if it's a love interest, a platonic friend, even a family member. It's all the same -- people who want to take your attention away from him, people who you smile at that aren't him, people you love that aren't him. He's not one to delude himself into thinking everyone secretly loves you romantically, rather, it doesn't matter. Romantic interests are the worst threat, sure, but friends and family aren't much better.
He sees himself as above killing, though. He has people to do that for him, and he likes knowing that he has that much power. He's not going to dirty his hands with it, and frankly, they're not even worthy of his time and effort to kill them. Knights and other connections can take care of it just as well.
How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?
As somewhat previously discussed, the primary form of making him mad is attempting an escape. That's on a whole new level of anger because it strikes at a very deep, wounding insecurity. On a normal day, though, he's more easily exasperated than angry. He gets frustrated somewhat easily, especially if you're trying exceptionally hard to be a brat. He has very clear warning signs. His signature little smirk drops, he gets quiet, he balls his hands into fists and digs his fingernails into his palms. At that stage, he's irritable and might snap at you, but won't get too angry until you ignore those signs and push it.
If you do push him, though, he gets genuinely mad, which is a very quiet anger at first -- he doesn't talk much when he's mad. He acts. You'll know he's snapped when he puts down whatever he's doing, and just silently stomps over to you, face completely empty and flat, looking down at you with a cold expression. It's enough to put fear in you, but at that point, even if you apologize, you're not getting out of whatever he's planned.
So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?
Strongly in the "below" camp, a rather unusual stance for a yandere. Like many things with him, there's an inexplicable duality going on there. You would think that if you loved someone so strongly you'd kidnap them, kill for them, and potentially suffer consequences just to have them, that you would really think highly of them. On the flip side, you would think that if you really saw someone as lowly, you wouldn't care for them, you'd see them as disposable.
But neither is true for Kaeya, no, he balances both obsessive love and complete narcissism regarding you. You're not disposable, no, he can't live without you, he needs you. But at the same time, you're not gonna be on any kind of pedestal. No, if anything, he sees himself on one, more like a throne, and you on the floor before him, how things should be.
He has a similar mindset to Zhongli or Albedo - you're fragile, you're dumb, you're incapable, and you need someone to care for you, protect you, guide you, someone who knows what's best for you, since you clearly don't. However, he's lacking in the attitude those other two have -- there's no seeing you as an angel here. There's no viewing himself as being absolutely honored to take care of you, or viewing protecting and caring for you as some kind of privilege that they're blessed to do, the way those two do.
No, as much as he loves those things, he'll never admit it, not even to himself really. Rather, his mentality is that you should be grateful. Here he is, a very highly respected, accomplished, capable person, and you...? You have what to offer, exactly? That's right, nothing, really, only cuteness and obedience, the latter of which you refuse to give him even though you really ought to. He's taking on the burden of making sure you don't get yourself killed, and how do you repay him? By getting mad about it, throwing a fit like some little kid? He puts up with your tantrums, which are really undeserved, by the way. He puts up with your disobedience and repeated rule violations, your sheer determination to defy him when he's going out of his way to do what's best for you.
One day, he thinks, you'll mature a little bit and understand why he does what he does, and when you do, you'll come groveling and sniffling about how sorry you are, how you'll never defy him again, how you'll be good and obedient from now on, and he'll love every second of it. He looks forward to that day quite a bit.
"Sigh... you know, you're pretty lucky I love you so much. You could stand to show me a little thanks, don't you think?"
How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?
He's strongly determined, and yet... doesn't do much to try. It goes back to his mindset that really, you're the one who should be grateful for him, and eventually, you will love him. He's not gonna grovel to you or try different ways of making you love him, no, he's far too proud for that. But he's a smart man. He knows the effects that complete and total isolation other than one other person can have on someone. He's just going to sit back and wait for that effect to kick in, and slowly watch your fragile little mind deteriorate until you're desperate for affection. At which point, well, he can use it against you.
"You were so mean to me before, weren't you? You fought me every step of the way, and now you're just going to turn around and act like that didn't happen...? Well, if you're really sorry, I'll forgive you. But how am I supposed to believe you really are...? Maybe you can think of a way to prove it, hm?"
Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?
Probably the severity of his degradation. As aforementioned, most yanderes, even the more confident or cocky individuals, either worship the ground their beloved walks on and sees themselves as beneath them, OR sees their darling as some sort of fragile, angelic being, and they are simply a protector or caretaker to that being.
It's a bit different with him, ever the narcissist. It's a strange duality born out of a rare mix of neediness, obsession, and pride. You're more like a toy, or a pet - an invaluable pet that he could never part with, but a pet nonetheless. He certainly looks down on you more than the average yandere - he mentally associates you as naive, fragile, even dumb like a lot of the aforementioned protector/caretaker types, but without the reverence to make up for it.
It's a bizarre duality that not even he fully understands - don't think for a moment that that means he'll ever tire of you, or view you as disposable. No, he's actually one of the most obsessive ones, yet very demanding of attention and praise, rather than giving it.
He frequently tests you - things like leaving the door unlocked, waiting outside just to see if you'll try it. Seeing you open that door, watching your face go from ecstatic excitement and drop to wide-eyed terror, it's priceless.
"My, my, you didn't waste any time at all, did you? Why do you look so surprised...? You should know I wouldn't slip up that badly."
Pet names, but in the most infuriatingly condescending way, and uses them more often when he's mad and trying to warn you that you're pushing his limits. Particularly fond of "sweetheart," especially with a low warning tone and clenched teeth.
General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?
Horny fucker, all the way. The man has a lot of stress and frustration in his life already, that much more if you're... less than compliant with your new lifestyle. Sex, especially rough and hard, is a fantastic stress reliever.
Very little reservation. He's not crude about it, but he tends to make subtle innuendos very frequently, and laughs at your embarrassed reactions. Definitely the type to pull the whole shtick in which he says something with a blatant sexual undertone, then elaborates in a way to make it sound like having meant something else, follows with that smirk and says, "Why? What did you think I meant?" It's something he really enjoys doing, and loves to get embarrassed reactions out of people, particularly yourself.
"Touchy" doesn't begin to describe it. Pretty much from the moment you meet him, he's got his hands somewhere on your person. He grabs your shoulders when he stands behind you, he wraps an arm around you from the side when he walks up to you, he's always pressing his hands on your back and sides whenever you're navigating the streets, walking through doorways, wraps an arm around your waist when sitting next to you. It's highly uncomfortable, but really, he's just got something very subtly, but very strongly intimidating about him. You almost don't want to confront him on it. If you do, he'll laugh it off, and stop -- for maybe 48 hours or so, and then he'll be right back at it.
To the surprise of, well, everyone who's ever met him, he doesn't actually live up to the rumors of having been around the block, so to speak. His experience is actually little to none - that kinda happens when you push everyone around you away. Not that he'd ever let you know that, of course, and will probably lie if asked, but you can gleam a little bit of truth from slightly awkward movements and a bit of noticeable shakiness.
How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?
Kind of like Razor, the issue is that he loves you, and what better way is there of expressing love? He's not much for gift-giving or words of affirmation - no, he's a lot better with words of degradation, it comes more naturally to him. And he's certainly not one to enjoy acts of service -- well, not doing them, he'll gladly take them as a sign of your love, though. No, he expresses love through touch. It's like how, when you hug someone you really love, someone you missed, you squeeze them extra tight - the love manifests as a physical urge for some strong expression. Humans are physical about their emotions -- we punch walls when we're mad, we jump up and down when we're happy, and when you love someone, sometimes you just really, really want to pound them into a mattress as hard as physically possible. That's normal. That, and really, he's got his vices. He's actually fairly weak when it comes to resisting temptations, and prone to give in to urges for physical sensations like drunkenness and sex.
Is another one to be convinced that, with time, you'll come around. And is absolutely the top candidate to be one for using your own body against you - if you get wet, if you whimper, if you cum, that's just proof that you really do want this, that you're just being difficult because you enjoy being a brat, and he'll be sure to tell you that.
What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?
This is nearly indistinguishable from punishment, sadistic bastard
Arrogant fucker wants to be served and worshipped, you could see it coming from a mile away. Anything that puts you beneath him is going to make him happy - anything where you're where you're supposed to be. There's a lot of options, but it doesn't really matter, as long as he feels like he's in control and ownership of you in some way, and as long as you act accordingly.
He wants it to be something that’s not just for sex, but rather, he’ll end up carrying it over into normal life, whether you like it or not. If you just went along with it in hopes of getting it over with once he cums, you’re going to be in for a treat when it starts to carry over. He gets a little too used to being worshipped, and decides he likes that submissive attitude on you enough to want to see it all the time.
It really helps that he sees you as something of a pet already, but really, the collar is the selling point. Even if you never go outside, there's something unbearably hot about the possessiveness of it all - really, it's there to remind you of your status as property. He wants to own you, and for you to be forced to acknowledge that he owns you, and there's really no better way to do that than something with his name on it. It's even better with a leash, one he can pull on when he's fucking you to pull you back onto him over, and over, and over, hearing it choke you the more he shortens it.
But really, having you crawl towards him on all fours and obey little commands so simple they're humiliating is pretty nice, too.
There's really nothing quite so powerful feeling as watching you cry and squirm from it, y'know? He's another one that just likes the marks his hands, belts, or anything else can leave all over the skin of your ass and the back of your legs. The thing with him, though, is it's not even always a punishment, he just does it for fun, and that makes it unpredictable. Will definitely make you count, it's a sadistic torture for your mind and body.
May be used as a punishment measure, may just be because he's craving it, either way, even if you have a gag reflex, you won't for very long. He'll train it out of you gradually, grabbing the back of your head and just slamming all the way down into your throat, holding you there, making you choke - it's a beautiful sound, really, listening to you gag, all while your throat spasms around him, it's the best feeling, really, and will definitely be used as a threat if you need incentives to behave.
Ties into the dynamics, but really, there’s not much to say on this one. He likes the power trip from having his hands wrapped around your throat, seeing you struggle, watching your face go red, hearing those little choking noises. It puts power over you into his hands, and if you get pleasure from it against your own will, that’s even better.
How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?
Absolutely one of the ones to use it as a tool. If you have a baby, you'll be so much more bound to him. You'll need him more, you'll want him around more, you'll be much less likely to leave, and in a way it feels a little bit like a sign of ownership over you.
That being said, he's also acutely aware of his jealous tendencies, and realizes he would also be very likely to become jealous if he felt like you loved a baby more than him, or gave it more attention and affection than you do him. He doesn't like the thought.
So ultimately, the latter side prevents him from willingly trying, but if you really, really have defiance issues even after he's tried everything he can to break you help you adjust, he might consider it.
What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?
If it's mild enough, he can just take the route of extremely rough fucking - it gets rid of the frustration, he likes hearing you whimper and squeal, and he can leave lots of little bruises as reminders of what not to do in the future.
But, again, he already gets off to putting you in pain - it'll be that much worse when you've done something to deserve it. Harder hits, no mercy whatsoever, and he just loves all your little cries, wiping away your tears and smiling at you, right before bringing down whatever instrument of pain he's chosen again. If you really, really make him mad, and he really wants to make you cry, he's not above fucking your ass, either, watching you cry and beg, but you'll learn with time that begging doesn't ever get you out of anything.
What body parts of their darling do they like the most?
Definitely an ass man. Likes fucking you in doggy, seeing the ripple every time you bounce back off of him, pulling your hair or arms to add some force. He likes seeing all the little red marks that his hands and belts and anything else will leave on the skin, views it like marks of possession. Grabbing, beating, fucking, it's all good.
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I Do Bad Things with You - Part 23
Well...here it is. This shit show I call a chapter. I really fought this one and I’m still not happy with it, but we get from point A to point B, where we needed to be and we’re just going to live with it. Side note, the other character in this chapter was originally the ONLY crossover character I had originally planned from the start - my how far we’ve come. Anyways, let me know your thoughts! 💙💜💚
Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕
If you do not wish to be tagged in my work because you no longer ship Elriel or just want to be removed in general, please let me know. No hard feelings. Hateful words will not be tolerated.
Catch up here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19**, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22
Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘
Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault (brief description), language, NSFW
Word Count: 4,366
Elain woke to unfiltered light. Her eyes fluttered as they adjusted to the brightness, mind still a bit groggy. She felt this overwhelming sensation of warmth—cozy even—as she glanced around her room to try and get her bearings straight.
This wasn’t her room.
It became more obvious when she saw the single picture on the dresser near the far end of the bed. The picture of Azriel and his brothers.
The one she took.
She realized then why she felt so comforted.
Elain was in Azriel’s bedroom—in his bed.
The warmth she felt was from him.
His arms were banded around her, holding her snug to his bare chest. She could feel the heat of his skin even through the shirt she wore. His breathing stirred the hairs at her nape.
But what shocked her the most was the fact that his hold on her didn’t trigger any fear or anxiety within her. It didn’t make her breath quicken, her heart rage against her ribcage. Didn’t make that looming darkness rise up to swallow her whole.
It did, however, beg the question of why she was even in here?
The events of the previous night came flooding back to her. Kissing Azriel before they left for Ritas. Going to his club. Graysen finding her and spitting those awful words for everyone to hear.
He had thrown every single insecurity that she had desperately tried to hide, out for her entire family to see—like the words had been tattooed on her skin.
Azriel had hit him. Had punched her ex in her defense.
Something ached in her chest at him defending her.
She didn’t deserve it. Because every awful thing Graysen had said was undeniably true. Elain had tried so hard to hide that baggage from everyone else, but there was no refuting it. She was exactly everything he claimed she was.
That one hurt the most.
She had struggled to pay for school, even with the scholarships she had received. Her parents had money when she was young, but they lost everything when her mother had gotten sick. Every penny they had gone to hospital bills, and when her parent’s life savings ran out, her father chose a very risky way, with some very bad people, of getting money. She could still hear his screams of pain when those awful men came and crippled his leg when they were unable to pay back his debt.
She couldn’t qualify for student loans—didn’t have the credit for it—and Elain very nearly gave up her dream when Graysen swept in. He had been adamant about helping her pay for schooling when they were together. Though she had originally refused, he eventually wore her down until she finally caved and took his support.
There was nothing she regretted more in her life than that—especially now. But she supposed he wasn’t wrong too.
Everything she had worked so hard at rebuilding within herself came crashing down by the sight of her ex and a few choice words. Every therapy session and technique seemed to crumble in her hands.
And then she had that awful nightmare. The one of her being bent over their kitchen table as he violently took what was his.
That nightmare was the worst of them all.
Because, unlike what really happened, there was never anybody there to stop him and she had to relive what Graysen had every intention of doing to her, over and over again until her body would finally jerk itself awake.
Except last night was different.
Azriel had come to save her. He had been the one to pull her from her nightmare. Had been the one to clean her up after she vomited all over her bed and herself. He had been the one to hold her and comfort her and coax her back to sleep—something she had never been able to do before.
The realization hit her like a ton of bricks.
She had previously thought she could love him again, but that wasn’t right.
Because Elain was still in love with him.
There was a reason she could lay in his bed, with his arms wrapped tightly around her. That she could allow him to massage her neck. She wasn’t afraid of him or his touch. She wasn’t frightened by him in the slightest.
Azriel made her feel safe, happy even. He made her feel cherished in a way she hadn’t felt before.
And that, in itself, was terrifying.
She had let him get too close. Had let him pass through her walls she had forged around her heart.
Her brain screamed at her, not again. To not let him back in and allow him the opportunity to shatter her heart once more. The pain she had experienced the first time was almost unbearable. Elain knew she wouldn’t survive it if he did it again—if he even wanted it to begin with.
No matter that they had kissed last night. A real kiss. That was before he got the first-hand experience at just how fucked up her head was. He didn’t deserve that.
Didn’t deserve to be dragged down by someone who wasn’t sure they could even fully give their heart away. Not after the gaping wounds left by both males she had fallen in love with.
She refused to bring him down into the mess she called her love life.
Azriel deserved to be with someone who wasn’t afraid to openly love him.
Something inside her chest clenched. Elain had once believed Azriel was the one for her. That fate didn’t necessarily deem worthy together but had chosen each other anyway. She wasn’t sure if she could do that again.
Her mind shouted at her. Out!
Tears welled in her eyes and she struggled to blink them away. She had to get out of his bed. Had to slip from his arms no matter how much it pained her to do so. But her squirming did exactly what she was trying to avoid.
Azriel stirred from behind her.
Elain tried to tuck her head into the pillow as he released her, arms slipping from around her body.
“Good morning,” he said, voice husky with sleep.
Shit, even that was beautiful to her. She had to get out of this room—couldn’t let him see the tears that started spilling over. “Morning,” she choked out.
But the bastard was so in-tune with her, he noticed immediately. He sat up abruptly, leaning over her to try and look at her face. “Elain?”
He said her name with such concern that she couldn’t hold back the cracked noise that tumbled from her throat.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, hand lightly touching her arm. “Did I overstep? I’m so sorry if I did.”
She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t stay here. Pushing back the covers, she struggled to climb out of bed, but he caught her wrist.
“Elain, stop, please. What’s wrong? What can I do?”
His voice broke something inside her and when she finally looked over at him, eyes rimmed red with tears rolling down her cheeks, he sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry, El. I’m so sorry.”
Oh gods, that nickname. Nobody ever called her that but him. Only him. She never even let Graysen call her that. Desperately, she tried pulling her arm back. “Please let me go,” she whispered, unable to get her voice any louder.
His face fractured. “Elain, please. Let me help.”
She sniffed, trying to pull her arm from his grasp without ripping it away. “You have to let me go,” she murmured. It sounded so final to her. “Please, just let me go.” The words held an entirely different meaning and from the way his face shattered, she knew he understood what she meant.
He released her, arm falling limply to his side. “Don’t push me away,” he said so softly, she thought that she might have imagined it. But the look of utter devastation told her otherwise.
“I’m sorry, Azriel.” Forcing her legs to move, she bolted from his room back to her own. Hot, angry tears fell down her cheeks in full force. She didn’t think she would ever get that look on his face out of her head.
That’s what he looked like.
He had been broken by what she said—what she did.
It had hurt her heart to be the one making him feel like that, but she had to pull away. She had to separate herself from him.
She couldn’t do this again. Couldn’t put herself in a position to make herself vulnerable again. She had to pull away. Needed to put space between them.
Breathing became difficult and Elain knew she was on the verge of a full-scale panic attack. Following her therapist’s instructions, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She forced the sounds around her to go quiet as she focused on breathing.
The intake of air through her nose and out through her mouth.
Ignored the feeling of the dampness on her cheeks.
Pushed aside the ache in her chest until her heart rate slowed. Until she wasn’t gasping for air.
The sound of her phone buzzing caught her attention. Sniffing, she walked to her nightstand to answer the call. “Hello?”
“Elain, it’s Thesan. I have an appendectomy in Urgent Care that I wanted you to take lead on. Are you available?”
“Yes,” she croaked. Clearing her throat, she added, “Yes, I can be there in thirty minutes.”
There was a pause on the other line.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she lied, knowing she needed to get out of this building. “I’ll see you soon.” Not letting him respond, she hung up. Quickly, she fired off a text to Nuala and Cerridwen, asking if either of them could pick her up and take her to the hospital, not trusting herself to be in the car alone with Azriel at the moment.
Cerridwen replied almost immediately, stating she would be there in fifteen minutes.
Knowing she was short on time, Elain rushed into the bathroom to get ready.
Azriel stood in the kitchen, hands on the edge of the counter, head bent. He had struggled to breathe properly since Elain had fled from his bedroom. Since she had left him kneeling with nothing but an open, gaping wound in his chest. For someone who prided themselves on always having a plan, of always knowing and being two steps ahead, this open chasm of the unknown he was currently facing was frankly terrifying.
He had no idea what do to. Where to go from here. Something between them had cracked when she had woken up in his bed. And then she refused to let him try to make it right.
She didn’t owe him anything—he knew that—but not being able to fix whatever happened, or to apologize for it, sucked.
The coffee pot dinged as it finished and though he poured himself a cup, likely out of habit, he couldn’t take a sip. The nausea in his stomach prevented him from moving the liquid towards his lips.
He had just set his cup back on the counter when the elevator pinged open and he looked up to find Cerridwen walking into the penthouse. He raised a brow. “What are you doing here?”
She looked equally puzzled. “Elain texted Nuala and me asking if we could pick her up to take her to work.”
That had him standing up straight. “She’s not scheduled for work.” Something twisted in his gut.
Was she running from him?
Footsteps sounded at the top of the stairs and there she was, indeed, dressed in a lovely pair of amethyst-colored scrubs.
She stopped at the bottom step as they both just stared at each other. He vaguely heard Cerridwen move back towards the elevator to give them some semblance of privacy. “I didn’t know you were working today,” he said to open the door for conversation.
Elain looked awful. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and he knew she had been crying because of him. It felt like a blow to the chest knowing he had made her that upset.
“I just got called in to run a procedure. An appendectomy.”
He nodded. “How long should it take?”
“Probably just a couple of hours.” Finally, she moved away from the stairs and into the kitchen.
He stepped aside and let her make her coffee. His hands twitched to do it for her, but he didn’t want to do anything else to make her more upset, so he shoved them into the pockets of his grey sweatpants. Not knowing what else to do, Azriel leaned back against the counter and crossed his feet at the ankles. “I can pick you up when you’re finished. I’ll head over about noon.”
Elain turned, coffee mug in hand. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
Is that what she thought she was? An inconvenience? “You’re not. I hadn’t planned on doing anything specific today anyways.”
He had planned on having that conversation they put off last night before they left. But that plan went out the door with her this morning.
She just stood there, staring at his face. Like she could see the lie. Her shoulders slumped forward in defeat. “Okay,” she whispered, the word an arrow to his heart. Her head ducked and she stepped away from him.
Azriel had no idea what possessed him to do it, but he reached out and caught her wrist, her name tumbled from his lips—a broken plea.
Her face cracked at the sound, at the desperate tone of voice.
It made the last bit of his resolve fade. “I’ll see you after work,” he finally said after too many moments of silence. His eyes searched her face, looking for what—he didn’t know.
She gave him a quick nod and what could only be described as a watery smile before she pulled her arm from his grasp and met Cerridwen at the elevator.
Elain didn’t look at him as the doors closed. Her gaze was focused on the floor in front of her.
He felt his entire being shatter as those doors shut between them. Azriel slid against the counter to the floor and let the emotions consume him. There was nothing he could do as a sob tore out of his throat. He let the feelings he buried deep within himself out. Every shadowed corner of his heart and soul longed to go after her—to stop her from leaving him permanently, but he knew if he did that, he would’ve been no better than her ex.
Azriel refused to be like that. Refused to hold her back in his darkness when she was destined to shine. So, he took that truth—the one he wanted to tell her today—and drowned it until the very light of his being went out.
And then he wept on the floor of his kitchen for the love he could not have.
Elain took a breath and knocked on the door in front of her.
“Come in,” came a feminine answer.
She pushed open the door, offering a pathetic excuse of a smile to the woman on the other side of the oak desk.
“Elain,” Yrene breathed, eyes widening. “Hi, come in, come in,” she said, rising out of her chair and motioning for her to sit on the couch.
She did as told and sat, dropping her bag on the floor. “Do you have a patient right now or have time to squeeze me in?”
Yrene sat on an opposing chair, notebook in hand, and set a recorder down on the table between them. “I don’t have anything scheduled for a couple of hours.” She offered her a soft smile. “I would ask you how you’ve been, but I think your presence here answers that question. So, tell me what’s going on.”
Elain took a deep breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth. Her fingers twisted together in her lap, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the psychiatrist in front of her. “I moved in with my ex,” she blurted.
Yrene’s eyes widened, mouth opening. “Elain, your ex-fiancé?”
“No! Oh, gods no,” she shook her head adamantly. “My ex from high school.” The relief on the doctor’s face made her chuckle. “It’s a temporary living situation.”
Her head cocked to the side. “I had no idea you were still in contact with him.”
“I don’t,” Elain began. “Or I wasn’t.” Her eyes darted down to the recorder sitting on the small coffee table. “Can we have this conversation, off the record?”
Something desperate must’ve shown on her face because Yrene leaned down and flipped the recorder off and set her notebook down next to it. She offered her a reassuring smile. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Elain took a deep breath before she launched into her story. She didn’t hold anything back—knowing she could trust Yrene to keep everything to herself—needing not just professional advice, but words from a friend. It took her over an hour to get through everything.
From the hold up at the bank over two months before, to that morning when she woke up in Azriel’s bed, wrapped up in his arms.
She told her about the threat. About Azriel getting shot. About their kiss at the gala for show versus the one they had last night. Elain laid herself bare while her therapist listened, asked questions for clarification, and nodded along to everything she said.
“That was, quite a story,” she said when Elain had finished.
“I’m at a loss here. I don’t know what to do—where to go from here.”
Yrene seemed to consider this. “Given everything you know about him, what he does or has done in the past, and what he could very well do in the future—are you afraid of him?”
It was a direct question—one that Elain didn’t even need to think about her answer for. “No. I know he would never hurt me.” She slid he clammy palms down the front of her scrubs. “But I think I’m afraid of what he does.”
And that was the truth of the matter. Elain was not afraid of Azriel himself, just of the life he lived. And she wasn’t sure if she could turn a blind eye to that part of him. The one who took the law into his own hands and dealt out punishment.
Judge. Jury. Executioner.
“I took an oath when I became a doctor to do no harm. How can I accept what he’s done or will do when I’ve sworn to be the opposite?”
Yrene gave her a sad smile. “I think the only person who can answer that question is you, Elain. You have to decide if you can live with what he is. If your love for him outweighs the risk of being with him would bring, in addition to who he is.” She glanced down at her watch. “I hate to cut this short, but my next appointment will be here in about ten minutes.”
Elain looked at the clock on the table next to her. She’d been here for almost two hours. “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize how long it’s been.”
The other doctor picked up her recorder and notebook and set them back on her desk. “No worries, Elain. You know my door is always open for you.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate that.”
“Did you want to schedule another appointment?”
“No, I think I’m okay for now. I just needed to get everything off my chest.”
Yrene nodded. “If I may pass my impartial advice, but perhaps some distance is what you need to clear your head. Do with that what you will.”
She smiled, nodding in understanding.
After saying their goodbyes, Elain headed for the elevator. She felt overwhelmed as she rode down to the hospital lobby area. Her impromptu therapy session helped her breakthrough those inner walls, but it also gave her a lot of questions to answer and things to think about.
She was in love with Azriel. And she knew she couldn’t—knew she wouldn’t be able to hide it from him if she kept living with him. He had captured her so thoroughly, and she needed to find a way out from underneath him.
The doors opened on the ground floor to a commotion at the nurse’s station.
“What do you mean she’s been out of surgery for almost two hours? Where is she?”
The nurse was as pale as a ghost at his voice. “I do—I don’t know, sir,” she stuttered.
“Azriel?” she called, though his name sounded more like a question. She stood frozen in place as he whipped around and spotted her.
Relief flooded his face and he stalked towards her. “Elain,” he murmured, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug.
His midnight mist and cedar scent washed over, calming her racing heart.
He tucked her under his chin, his hand threading through her hair to cradle the back of her head. “I was so scared. They said your surgery had ended almost two hours ago and you were off the clock.” He pulled back enough to look down at her, his eyes lined with worry. “Where were you?”
She swallowed hard. “I, um. I went to see my therapist.”
Concern melted into understanding on his face. “About last night?”
Elain nodded, though it was more than just about last night. She knew she needed to tell him that she had to leave, but in her heart, it felt so wrong. The words seemed to choke her as he tucked her under his arm—almost as if he were afraid she would disappear.
It made everything that much worse.
“Let’s go home.”
The word home clanged through her mind. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods! She couldn’t—she had to stop this. Even as they reached the outside of the hospital and his car loomed closer, stopping him became harder and harder.
Mustering all the courage she had, Elain planted her feet—much like she did that night of the gala—and pulled free from his grasp.
Azriel turned to look at her, brow cocked. “Elain?” he questioned, concern creeping into his voice. “Is everything all right?”
She could read every emotion on his face. The anguish he seemed to know was coming, the fear of what she was about to do. Elain never wanted to be the person to put those expressions on his face, but that’s exactly what she did. Her throat felt tight—constricted to the point of pain. “I can’t,” she murmured.
She shook her head. “I need to go home,” she said, looking down at her sneakers.
“To get something?”
The false hope in his voice nearly made her cave.
Again, she shook her head. “No, I need to go home. Permanently.” Elain was surprised at how strong the words sounded.
His face shattered. “Elain if this is about this morning—” he started, taking a step towards her.
But she countered with a step backward. A sob threatened to choke her. “I can’t,” she said again, defeated.
“You can,” he tried but she just shook her head, refusing to look at his face.
“I’m sorry, Azriel. But I need to go home.” The words were barely a whisper yet he still heard them.
“It’s still not safe for you.”
Her damn broke. “I don’t care, Azriel! I don’t care,” she cried. Tears were running down her face like steady rivers. “I can’t stay with you anymore. I just can’t. Her arms wrapped around herself. “You have to take me home,” she sniffed. “Please just take me home.” Her voice broke on the last bit, making her shoulders curl inward.
For a minute, neither of them said anything, but she could feel Azriel’s gaze on her like a brand.
“Okay,” he whispered.
Her head shot up and she felt her throat close as she saw the silver lining his eyes he was desperately trying to hold back. Elain’s chest hollowed out at the sight of him.
He cleared his throat. “Okay, I’ll take you home.” Azriel stepped aside, to let her pass him to his car.
The ride was silent, but as her building loomed closer, she could feel the tension beginning to escalate.
“I’ll have the twins drop off your stuff tomorrow while you’re at work,” he said, looking at his hands on the stirring wheel. “I would still like them to pick you up and drop you off here if you’re okay with that.” His voice was too soft—it made something deep inside her ache.
“I’m okay with that,” she whispered into the silence that had enveloped them. “Just not the Moonbeam twins, please.” She wasn’t sure if she could handle their prying questions. Elain noticed how tightly his fists clenched the wheel, turning the harsh scars that scattered across them even paler, but he nodded in agreement. “Thank you,” she finally murmured, placing her hand on the door handle. Even though he refused to make eye contact with her, she said anyways, “Goodbye, Azriel.”
The tone of her voice made it clear—this was their final goodbye. She would never see him again.
When he finally looked back at her, Elain almost caved. She almost released the door handle to crawl over to him, to wrap her arms around his neck, and hold him close.
“Goodbye, Elain.” The devastation was written plainly on his face.
And it absolutely broke her. She had been so concerned in trusting him with her heart, that she never imagined it would be her he couldn’t trust with his. Forcing herself to move, she climbed out, glancing one last time backward at the male she loved only to find him watching her already.
Elain felt the rift open up beneath her feet as she walked away from him, and let it swallow her whole.
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I was messing around with a incorrect quote generator and I decided to pair some of the quotes with Danganronpa characters, so uh, enjoy I guess?(mostofthemarekomahina-)
Hajime: Can you please just be serious for five minutes?
Nagito: My record is four but I think I can do it
Nagito: Oh just so you know, it's very muggy outside
Hajime: Nagito, I swear, if I step outside and all of our mugs are on the front lawn...
Nagtio: *Sips coffee from bowl*
Mahiru: Hey, it's your turn to wash dishes.
Fuyuhiko: I'LL WASH THE WALLS RED WITH YOUR BLOOD.
Mahiru: 'Kay, but before that, wash the dishes, also use soap this time?
Hajime: Why are you on the floor?
Nagito: I'm depressed.
Nagito: Also I was stabbed, can you get Mikan, please.
Ibuki: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?
Nagito: *turning to Hajime* How tall are you?
Chiaki: I really like this whole ‘good guy, bad guy’ thing you guys have going on.
Hajime: It’s not an act, it’s just that I’m mean and Nagito isn’t.
Hajime: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Nagito?
Nagito: … No.
Ibuki: I do!
Hajime: I know, Ibuki.
Ibuki: I’m sad!
Hajime: I know, Ibuki.
Hajime: How's the sexiest person here~?
Nagito: I don't know, how are they~?
Hajime, flustered: I-
Kazuichi, from across the room: I'm doing great, thanks!
Chiaki: What time is it?
Ibuki: I don’t know; pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out
Ibuki: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune*
Hajime: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING
Ibuki: It’s 2 am.
Hajime: How did none of you hear what I just said?
Chiaki: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.
Ibuki: I got distracted about halfway through.
Fuyuhiko: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.
Nekomaru: *Screams louder to assert dominance*
Hajime: Should we do something?!
Chiaki, observing: No, I want to see who wins this.
Ibuki: Nagito isn’t answering his phone!
Hajime: I’ll call.
Chiaki: Ibuki and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-
Hajime: On the count of three, what's your favorite cake? One, two, three-
Hajime and Nagito, in unison: Chocolate cake peanut butter frosting with chocolate chunks!
Kazuichi: Our turn, Miss Sonia! One, two, three- vanilla!
Sonia, deadpan: I've never had cake, what is cake.
Ibuki: Yo is Hajime sleeping or dead?
Fuyuhiko: Hopefully dead, I hated his guts.
Hiyoko: Yeah, so did I.
Hajime: Okay first of all, fuck you-
[The group is a prison cell that was just hit by an earthquake]
Hajime: Uh, I'm gonna roll a perception check of... 4, and see if our cell is, uh, in any way damaged by this quake
Nagito: You're in a prison cell :)
Chiaki: You did great. Well, I got a 10-
Nagito: You're in a prison cell with bars on it :3
Ibuki: I got a 1!
Nagito: You're in... a cube-shaped place.
Ibuki: Just be yourself.
Nagito: 'Be myself'? Ibuki, I have one day to win Hajime over. How long did it take before you guys started liking me?
Fuyuhiko: Couple weeks.
Teruteru: Six months.
Kazuichi: Jury’s still out.
Nagito: See, Ibuki?
Nagito: 'Be myself'. What kind of garbage advice is that?
Hajime: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?
Imposter: >:O language.
Sonia: Yeah watch your fucking language!
Kazuichi: OKAY WHO TAUGHT MISS SONIA THE FUCK WORD?
Fuyuhiko: 'The fuck word'.
Nagito: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time.
Ibuki: Oh my god he censored it.
Fuyuhiko: Say fuck, Nagito.
Ibuki: Do it, Nagito. Say fuck.
'Can I copy your homework?'
Chiaki: I can help you with it!
Nagito: Yeah, sure.
Ibuki: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.
Hajime: lol nope.
Kazuichi: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!
Fuyuhiko: *Read 5:55pm*
*The squad right before Nagito and Hajime's wedding*
Chiaki: Well I have to go, I have a wedding to attend.
Ibuki: Wait... Oh! I have a wedding to attend too!
Mahiru: Oh, I have a wedding to attend as well
Fuyuhiko: I THINK WE ALL HAVE WEDDINGS TO ATTEND
Imposter, panicked: I THINK I HAVE A WEDDING TO OFFICIATE
Hajime: Nothing in life is free.
Chiaki: Love is free!
Ibuki: Adventure is free!
Fuyuhiko: Knowledge is free.
Nagito: Everything is free if you take it without paying.
Nagito: What if the person who named Walkie Talkies named everything?
Ibuki: Pregnancy tests are Maybe Babies!
Chiaki: Socks are Feetie Heaties!
Sonia: Forks are Stabby Grabbies!
Ibuki: Defibrillators are Heartie Starties!
Chiaki: Nightmares are Dreamy Screamies!
Sonia: Stamps are Lickie Stickies!
Hajime, annoyed: You are disappointments.
Ibuki: Looking left cause you don’t treat me right.
Chiaki: Looking right because you left.
Nagito: Looking up cause you let me down.
Kazuichi: Looking down cause you fucked up.
Hajime: What is wrong with you guys...?
Chiaki: I think we're missing something.
Hajime: A general sense of what we’re doing?
Hajime: Nagito and I don’t use pet names.
Chiaki: I see. Hey, what do bees make?
Nagito: Yes, dear?
Chiaki: Don't ever lie to my face again.
Nagito: What if I press the brake and gas at the same time?
Ibuki: The car takes a screenshot.
Hajime: For the last time, get the fuck out.
Hajime: Please bring home PURIFIED water with NO minerals added for taste.
Nagito: We got spring water.
Ibuki: with EXTRA minerals!
Nagito: it's like licking a stalagmite!
Hajime: DON'T COME HOME.
Ibuki: Mmmmm cave water...
Hajime: What do you think Nagito will do for a distraction?
Chiaki: He’ll probably, like, make a noise or throw a rock. That’s what I would do.
*Building explodes and several car alarms go off*
Chiaki: ... or he could do that.
Nagito: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life.
Hajime: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?
Nagito: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.
Nagito: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I'll wait.
Hajime: You and me!!!
Nagito, tearing up: Okay.
Hajime: I made tea.
Nagito: I don’t want tea.
Hajime: I didn't make tea for you. This is my tea.
Nagito: Then why are you telling me?
Hajime: It's a conversation starter.
Nagito: That’s a lousy conversation starter.
Hajime: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate.
Congrats, you've reached the end.
oh my god there are 30 of these things-
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I’ve thought about making a post to sum up my life over the past week and there’s so much scrambling around in my little brain about it, it seems like too much to succinctly write.
Here’s a recap, and while I’m trying to be succinct, I doubt it’ll be short. 🙂
I had an appointment last Thursday where I was prescribed meds for high blood pressure and for PPD/anxiety. I’ve been taking the PPD/A meds since. I took the BP meds for two days, and stopped because they were giving me headaches and making me insanely thirsty despite chugging tons of water.
On the BP front, my doctor prescribed me meds after my blood pressure spiked in her office. I was there to talk about PPD, so no surprise that I was anxious and nervous. She freaked (though she’s very lovely and kind) and prescribed meds, recommended an EKG and bloodwork, and set me up with a primary care appointment. I have a very well documented pattern of my BP being higher in the office and normal at home - hello, crippling anxiety - so being prescribed meds was very frustrating. Since I wasn’t going to continue taking the meds, I decided to track my BP twice a day in preparation for an appointment with a primary care doctor on Tuesday.
Tuesday rolls around and I’m nervous as all hell, of course, but my BP is better at the office than it was with the OB. I meet my new primary care doctor and, guys, she is INCREDIBLE. I’ve never been listened to by a doctor like that before. She was kind, gentle, patient, and she spoke to me on my level. She shared plenty about her family, life and health. I was so comfortable. Long story short, she agreed that I don’t need the medication and instead asked me to do two things: (1) clean up my diet and start drinking a high-potassium smoothie every morning, and (2) get back to exercising regularly. Both of these things will be easier to do now that I’m not suffocating underneath the weight of PPD/A. She also had me cancel my EKG and fasting bloodwork appointment and just did some bloodwork there while I was in the office. Much easier. I love this doctor. Side note: my bloodwork results already came back and everything was perfectly normal.
I’ve started the green potassium smoothies and B is joining me with them.. it’s just a banana, spinach, water, and ice. Apparently a dose of high potassium in the morning will lower my BP by 10 points. I’ll take that. Bonus: the smoothie actually tastes good!
So, that’s the end of the BP saga, for now.
As far as mental health goes, the meds I’m taking have been nothing short of transformative. I hated the idea of taking anything, but after having taken them for only a week now, I’m so happy I finally caved and was willing to try it. I’m noticing a big difference in outlook - so much more positive - and my weepiness has gone away. B has also noticed a big difference and says I seem “back to my old self”.
I had a consult with a mental health group on Monday and they’re going to put me on a wait list to get set up with short-term therapy. All their therapists are specialized in postpartum/women’s mental health/pregnancy/loss/etc. It’s all sounding very hopeful.
One positive change I’ve noticed physically: my sleep has been much better. I still have trouble falling asleep, my mind racing about something I really shouldn’t be worrying about, but overall I’m sleeping more deeply. When I wake up, it feels like my body has been working hard to heal and mend. I’m sure on some level it actually is.
One less-than-positive change I’ve noticed physically: I’m getting tuckered very easily by routine things. I’m hoping that drops off eventually. I didn’t realize how bad things had gotten for me — my mental health had deteriorated so much that it was affecting my physical health pretty significantly. That’s for another time. For now, I’m trying to be patient with myself. I’m making to-do lists to help manage the nighttime overthinking and while I might not check everything off, I’m doing what I can as I can do it. I worked out this morning and while I was more winded than I would have been “normally”, I did it.
I’m also still waiting for shark week to arrive.. it’s now a week late and pregnancy tests are negative. Who knows, folks. I’m just assuming the stress of this past week has taken its toll and my body will figure it all out in due time.
For now, I’m trying to show myself as much grace as possible and make sustainable positive changes to improve things both mentally and physically. If you’ve read all this, I’m sending you a big ol’ virtual hug. Now I’m off to climb into bed and get some much needed rest.
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People are so used to see tortured heroes and their sunshine sidekick/best friend who is ready to support this hero all the time only to die in the end, thereby triggering another "soul searching" of the said hero, they not know how to deal with WWX who is so positive all the time. Maybe the reason they latch on to JC so much is because on the surface he looks like this so called tortured hero archetype. They never dig deep into these characters at all and realize JC was never a hero.
In many ways, you're right. But honestly, I don't feel like JC fits the tortured hero archetype either. Let's look at some of the most pivotal points of his characterization for a bit. It doesn't even require deep reading.
1. His first appearance involves trying to capture and torture WWX. Even his own internal thoughts clearly state he has done this before, captured people on mere suspicion and tortured info out of them. Not hero like.
2. He sics a dog at WWX knowing he has crippling cynophobia. He tries to guilt and gaslight WWX and then cripple his confidence. He even tries to weaken WWX's burgeoning trust in the adult LWJ. Not hero like.
3. In the Xuanwu of Slaughter incident, he keeps trying to hold WWX back. WWX takes the leadership role immediately and gets into problem solving mode while JC focuses on covering their own heads. Not hero like.
4. He repeatedly refuses to step up in defense of the defenceless. Repeatedly. That is his entire characterization. He doesn't speak up about his debt, he doesn't help WWX during the BM arc. He dismisses abuse of MianMian in the cave and JGY at the Pheonix Mountain Hunt. Not hero like. Traditionally, heros stand up against injustice, especially when the injustice is happening against vulnerable people.
5. He fights in the Sunshot Campaign because he is driven by revenge and has nothing to lose. He's not acting on some noble impulse to defend people against Wen oppression. Very anti-hero. To do good but for personal reasons instead of morality.
6. Even as a leader, he doesn't look like a hero. His people don't approach him. He encourages his nephew to cheat during Nighthunts by using their wealth. It it notable that YMJ had been needlessly rebuilt to be an ostentatious place. Not very hero like.
His sole act of heroism is trying to distract Wens from WWX and it is a impulse more than anything else. He has no idea what the consequences would be. He reacts because he has already lost his entire sect and has one of two anchors left. That is a very understandable and natural impulse. It shows a degree of care. But he takes it as a lesson to never risk anyone for WWX again. Which leads to disaster at almost every turn.
So, imo, there's nothing heroic for people to latch onto, not even at no point during the narrative does he come across as a true hero, whether you look at the surface or dig deep. Another thing - heroes are always universally eager to act in defence of children. I don't think you'll find many willing to ignore a child at risk. Batman - the very epitome of the tortured hero archetype - adopts children like they're going out of fashion.
And yet. JC sees a child in a distressing situation and doesn't lift a finger to help.
The text couldn't make it any clearer that JC is not a hero. What people are connecting to isn't his heroism - it is to his selfishness. His feeling of insecurity. They're connecting to 'why is this person so much better than me in every way?' because almost everyone feels that way at some point in their lives.
If WWX wasn't JC's martial brother, if WWX didn't belong to YMJ, if the narrative didn't highlight the clear difference between JC and WWX as a way to prove a point, I don't think as many people would like him. Because there is no real heroism there.
So nonny, TL;DR - There's no tortured hero narrative for people to latch on to, even in a surface reading. They're creating that out of thin air to justify their love for an antagonist. Which is fine, really. I've loved antagonists before. But call spade a spade.
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Small fic request where Odette cries and Ethan is the one to comfort her 🥺
Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Odette Hall)
Summary: In lieu of barging into Ethan’s office in that totally bizarre scene, later in the day when things get too much, Ode goes to cry in a closet. Of course the last person she’d ever want to see catches her in such a state.
Trope: Angst; Supply Closet; 1.9
Word Count: 1,096
A/N: Here’s some rare Book 1 OxE! A lot of the time I forget they (Odette) did not like the another as people until mid-way through Banerji’s case, definitely after 1.11 is when they start to encroach on work friends territory. Sooo here’s some 1.9 angst.
The linen closet is dim; one of the two fluorescent bulbs out of juice. It’s a good thing too. Odette certainly doesn’t want anyone to know she’s here; crying in an unused closet of the newly renovated fifth floor wing not too far from where Dr. Banerji’s being hidden away.
Her head thrown back against the empty metal shelving, hot tears rolling down her cheeks like an unforgiving rockfall. Her arms folded so tightly around her chest. It feels like everything’s caving in. The crushing sense of failure crippling her and wringing her lungs until no sound comes out; just he hot tears of a minute of weakness.
She’ll allow this inconvenience ten minutes. A quick ten minutes to herself in the most secluded of places. Yes. Ten minutes to get it all out and then pretend like nothing’s happened.
Odette Hall lets go. Lets the picture perfect painted façade fall like a curtain on a play. Alone, in the dark, without any spotlight or watchful scrutinizing eyes, she lets the most private part of herself free, momentarily. Water runs down her cheeks as unforgiving as an overflowing river. There’s a prick at her sides, from her pristine fingernails digging into the fabric of her cotton scrubs. If she gripped any harder she’d tear a neat little hold.
Everything she’s feeling tightened together like the frayed segments of a rubberband ball on the verge of snapping. Her frustration for this PITA patient she can’t seem to shake; can’t seem to get the diagnosis nor assert herself and her abilities. Another person who just sees her as a young and pretty face. Most of all she’s crying for the newest diagnosis she’s had to give. Odette knew the job wasn’t going to be easy - worthwhile things never are - it’s just... She needs some time to stop feeling so much.
The wing is so new she doesn’t hear the door opening. Yet she hears him, unmistakably, in the quiet hum in ventilation of this wing.
Doesn’t matter that the condescending nickname is said with more concerned wrapped confusion than she’d ever think capable of such a pompous and stoic man. Him being here - now of all times - is a burn. A brandish on his already weak perception of her, she’s sure.
She turns her shoulder to him, wipes her eyes with the pads of her fingertips as to not muss her makeup any further. Dabbing so the red of her skin doesn’t give her away. Odette can feel the lingering heat; the drying trail of utter disappointment staining her features.
“I’m alright, Dr. Ramsey,” she says; confident and like she’s above it all. Like he’s just walked in on nothing out of the ordinary; like she’s just looking over a case file. Cool, calm and frighteningly casual in the shadows. Even if the reds overtaking the whites of her eyes and other telltale signs will give her away as soon as she turns around.
His scoff is muted by something she’s only ever seen a glimmer of before in the depths of his icy stare. Pity, maybe? Either way it forces her stomach down to the darkened depths of wherever this outburst spurred from. She doesn’t need his endless sky-lit eyes imploring her. Doesn’t need for him to find another reason to berate her today.
Out the corner of her eye she sees Dr. Ramsey shut the door; near enough so no one could peek in, ajar enough not to rouse suspicions of infidelity.
“What happened?” he asks.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine, really.” Odette turns to him and shoots the brightest, most composed grin. Hopes that in this poor lighting he cannot truly see through the cracks.
Odette should know better than to muster false flattery with a lie detector.
She’s shuffling in her heels trying to find a gap to slip through and out of this unpleasant predicament, whilst his arms are crossed. He won’t budge to let her past; statuesque and imperious in the doorway.
Resigned and huffy, she folds her arms, matching his stance as best she can. It’s a face-off in this 4-by-4 box. In such close quarters Dr. Ramsey’s cologne mingles with her perfume. Foreign and laudatory; sandalwood and soap, a hint of citrus too.
“If you must know, I had to deliver a difficult diagnosis.”
He still doesn’t move.
There’s a bite in her exasperated retort; “I’d like to get back to work now.” A tap of her toe hones her impatient point.
“What happened?” he says once more.
“I just told you-”
“The diagnosis, Hall.” His face softens once he catches the rigid way her spine strengthens at his uncompromising tone. “What was it?”
A gust of stale air passes her dry lips, her eyes cast down and refuse to meet his. The new wing’s linoleum tiling has blue and green speckles mixed with gray.
In addition to the hum of the central air, all Odette can hear is the beating of her heart prick up to her ears with the bubbling emotion once more. But her ten allotted minutes are over and now she has an audience.
After a deep sobering breath she all but whispers,
Neither doctor tries to hide the pained expression that contorts their features and washes over them.
A moment of silence reigns; whether intentional or not, both look in opposite directions to mourn the memory.
Dr. Ramsey is the first one to speak; his voice gruff after clearing his throat.
“Being monitored.” Odette’s eyes flick to his face. “She’s okay. For the time being. I’m planning to check on her after lunch.”
Dr. Ramsey gazes down at his watch and Odette wonders if he has her schedule memorized by now. He assigns her patients, tells her where and when in the day to visit Naveen, seemingly finds her at one of the lowest points in her medical career with no effort at all. Does he know she should be on her break - is on her own time.
He finally steps aside, further into the dark space;
“Grab some food, Dr. Hall.”
She musters a tight smile in gratitude as she slides past him and into the grateful bustle of day. She’s nearly fully illuminated by the bright white light when solemn - personable, even - words reach her ears.
She turns to him, green eyes trained on the shelving beyond his shoulder.
“If you need anything, please come find me.”
Odette nods, once and short, before walking away; determined not to show another emotion to half the reason for her grief.
> ode and ethan masterlist <
> complete masterlist <
@lucy-268 @thegreentwin @queencarb @danijimenezv @starrystarrytrouble @terrm9 @interobanginyourmom @maurine07 @mercury84choices @schnitzelbutterfingers @the-pale-goddess @whimsicallywayward15 @mvalentine @mm2305 @rookie-ramsey @drariellevalentine @withbeautyandrage @forallthatitsworth @stateofgracious @missmiimiie @uneravine @iemcpbchoices @sophxwithers @quixoticdreamer16 @lsvdw-blog
@adiehardfan @headoverheelsforramsey @dickgraysonsscrumptiousbooty @reputaytion-xiii @jerzwriter @kachrisberry @aishwarya26 @rosebudde
@udishaman @binny1985 @honeyandsunfl0wers @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @blossomanarchy @stygianflood @openheartthot @senseofduties @tsrookie @kalogh @aworldoffandoms @takemyopenheart @ethanramseylover @a-crepusculo @randomperson111 @anntoldst0ries @aishaaaaaaah @estellaelysian @mysticaurathings @mayarambles
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