#he’d gaslight that bridge when he gets to it though!

[flkwh0re]

The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie.

Contains smut.

Warnings: Readers age is not specified but she is of age, Homophobia, Blood, Puking (reader only does it once while crying), Abuse, Mentions of death, Breif thoughts of suicide, Religion, Use of a slur (once), Nat gaslights reader, Nat punches reader to knock her out, Blasphemy, Dubcon (Nat begins to fuck reader while she’s unconscious then reader wakes up and tries to fight it but eventually gives in), Fingering, Dumbification(-ish???)

Wc: 1,713

A/n: Please listen to Preachers Daughter by Ethel Cain to get the whole ideal feeling of this fic. As a woman who grew up in the south and the church, this album hits really well. Also inspired by the song ‘The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie’ By Colter Wall!

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It started off with your father finding out from the woman you trusted most, Carol Danvers. How could she rat you out like that to your father like that? She was your best friend, the only person who knew about your secret.

No one close to you expected you to be a lesbian, even if they called you a fag or said the way you dressed was weird, the way you acted.

He had come home in a fit rage, busting the front door down. You were sure it came off the hinges. Before you knew it, you were backed into the corner, body aching from the blows you had taken, your throat hoarse from the shouting.

You finally found the courage to run and lock yourself in your room, quickly packing a backpack. Throwing in some clothes, shoes, items dear to you, essentials, and a book.

You unfastened the window, punching through the window screen. You hiked your leg out the window and dropped down. To your dismay, your father saw you.

He bolted out the door, and you quickly jumped onto your bike. pedaling as hard as you could, trying to escape the man you feared more than God.

Your dad hadn’t always been like this, he was always more understanding. When your mother died though, he changed. He began to drink and become terribly abusive. His narcissistic behavior only worsened when he ‘strengthened his faith.’

Your breathing became uneven and ragged, exhaustion consuming your overwhelmed body. You finally gave out running off the side of the road, you slid down a hill, bumping into every rock possibly.

Once you were able to stand, blood dripped down your legs and arms. Small amounts also trickled down your face, along with sweat. Dirt and grime coated your body thickly.

You took off to a bridge you saw, climbing up under it, hoping to hide there for a few hours. You heard the loud thuds of your father's footsteps, your heart pounding with each step. He discovered your slightly mangled bike against a tree, and once he realized you were gone, he cried. You’d not heard him cry since your mother's funeral, it almost made you come out of hiding. You knew his sorrow wouldn’t last, the moment it dispersed he’d be the same man as always.

Your father had finally given up his search for you, not like he cared much anyway. His daughter was ‘one of them queers’ as he’d say. He couldn’t stand people like that, but you were his daughter. He needed to find you, he needed to help you. He knew a woman, Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha was the pastor of the local church. She hadn’t been preaching there for a while, but in her short time she’s ‘helped’ so many young men and women. Now of course her time was spent more catered towards teenagers, but she would be more than willing to help you.

Once night settled in, darkness clouded your eyes. You knew your father wouldn’t get anyone out to look for you, so you figured you’d move at night. You had to get away, and fast.

You stepped onto the main road, your small flashlight in hand that barely worked. The thick mid-June air made sweat slick your body as you walked along the gravel road. No one to your knowledge loved this way, or so you thought.

You followed the small road for what felt like an eternity, your thin tank top clung thickly to your skin. Your overheated weary body fell to the ground, you slumped over laying on your side. Salty hot tears spilled down your face. Thoughts of hatred filled your mind.

How could you disappoint your father like this? How could you betray god like this? a you felt disgusted, so disgusted that as your tears ran you began to heave. Thick bile spilled from your mouth.

If only you could just stop it all, end all your suffering right now. You wouldn’t even hesitate.

You had laid in the spot for what felt like hours, wishing some animal would find you. What found you was even worse.

The sound of a car engine, and squeaky breaks stirred you. Bright headlights blinded you. You wanted to run, you figured now someone had found you and would return you to your father.

The soft crunches of gravel echoed in your ears; a figure approached you. They leaned down and you got a good look at her face. Natasha Romanoff.

“Hey sweetheart, what in the world are you doing out here? What’s happened to ya? Oh my goodness, you’re all bloody laying in a mess of vomit. Let me get you to my house” As she tried to help you to her car you kicked and squirmed.

Loud cries of no came from you, and Natasha was beginning to become impatient. As you thrashed your body around, trying to escape the woman who would bring you to your doom, you speared blood on her spotless suit. She finally had it with you, her fist struck a heavy blow across your face. Your mind went foggy and your eyes dizzy, eventually you lost consciousness.

“If you would’ve just cooperated, I wouldn’t have had to do that.” Natasha said through gritted teeth. She picked up your limp body and carried you to her truck, softly placing you in the seats next to her.

She drove down the road until she reached another small road, turning down it. No one knew about her second life, her home hidden away in the woods. She wasn’t who everyone thought she was. In fact, she was what everyone deemed evil.

She pulled up next to a small trailer house and stepped out of her truck. Natasha stepped around to the other side, pulled you into her arms carrying you bridle style into the house. She brought you to a broken-down couch that reeked of cigarettes.

Natasha walked off to her small room to change out of her dirty, bloodied clothes. She trudged to small refrigerator to grab a beer, cracking it open and taking a big drink.

As she made her way to the couch where you were, an idea popped in her head. She peeled your tank top off your body, revealing your bra. She examined your chest and stomach, dried blood and dirt smeared on your delicate skin.

Natasha unclipped your bra, slipping it off your arms throwing it off. Her hands grope at the soft flesh of your chest. She kneels down, so she can get closer to your breast. Her mouth latches onto your nipple, licking and sucking.

You began to finally regain consciousness, once you realized what was happening your eyes shot open. “No stop! Get off of me!” You shouted, trying to wrestle the older woman off you. She grabbed your wrist in her hand, pinned them onto the arm rest of the couch.

“No baby, you need me. See.” She slipped her hand into your shirt, gathering your slick on her fingers. She removed them and showed you her fingers wet with your arousal, “See baby, now be a good girl and let me fuck you.”

Her hands unbuttoned your shorts and slipped back into your panties. Her rough fingers rubbed at your clit, then she slipped two into your dripping cunt.

A loud cry and moan left your mouth, tears spilled from your eyes. “See baby, it feels so good doesn’t it. Tell me it feels good.” She rasped as she pumped her fingers in and out of you. You weakly nod your head, but Natasha wasn’t satisfied. “No, I want words. I want to hear you say it feels good.”

“Fuck! I-it feels good Natasha.” She chuckled, “Such a dirty mouth.” She curled her fingers up into the right spot, your legs trembled and your back arched up into her. “Fuck ‘m goin’ to cum!” You moaned out, as your juices gushed onto Natasha’s fingers.

She slipped her fingers into her mouth, sucking off your slick and moaning around her digits at your taste. “Fuck baby, you taste so good. I wanna taste you from the source, but we can do that another time. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You nodded and she helped you stand. You laid your head on her shoulder as she walked you to the bathroom. She readied the water as you slipped yourself out of your shorts. You couldn’t believe you were giving into her; she was so tempting you couldn’t even fathom saying no to her. Like a presence luring you in, like the devil themself.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about pretty girl?” She asked you. “Nothin’.. thank you thought. For this, it’s real kind of you.” She smiled, “Oh it’s nothin’ darlin’, it’s my job.”

You slipped into the warm water, and Natasha began to scrub the dirt off you. She’d give you the occasional kiss on your face, she just couldn’t help it. She’d had her eye on you for a while, she got pretty lucky tonight.

“I’ll keep you safe, don’t worry.” She spoke up, “What?” You questioned her, how would she know? “Your father already spoke to me, but don’t worry. Stay here with me, let me take care of you. I won’t say a word to him.” You nodded, “Okay, promise?” She grinned, “I promise.” She placed as soft kiss of your head, then pulled the plug.

Natasha wrapped the towel around your body and took you to her room. “Here why don’t you put these on, and I’ll grab you a sandwich. Is peanut butter okay?” You smiled and nodded.

Once you had put the clothes on she gave you, Natasha had returned with a bottle of water and the sandwich. “Eat this then we can go to bed, I bet you’re exhausted.” She said as she got into bed, motioning for you to join her. “I am.”

You finished eating, and snuggled up with Nat. She hummed you to sleep, whispering sweet nothings to you. She placed a kiss on your scalp and spoke soft words, “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

You felt safe with Natasha, you still weren’t sure what changed in you. You knew you could finally be comfortable with your life though.

Masterlist

#natasha romanoff #marvel #fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romonova #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha x you #natasha fanfic #natahsa romanoff #natasha #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x y/n #nat x reader

[missuswalker]

missed you || tate langdon x reader

✮ summary: you left him alone all day, did you expect him NOT to snoop? he just missed you

✮ warnings: sexual references, tate being a gaslighter, short, not proofread

note: this isn’t my best work, i’m trying to break my writers block LMAODHUNDUUND (request, i need ideas)

tate hated school. it’s not like he had to go, but it kept you from him. eight grueling hours all by himself. he didn’t have much to do to pass the time, either. think about you, talk about you, write about you. today was different, though. he hadn’t seen you since thursday morning. it was friday. where the hell were you? he was going crazy.

he walked through the door of your room, peeking inside. still the same way you’d left it. clothes on the floor and notebooks out on the desk. he shouldn’t. you’d be mad. the last time he snooped around, you yelled at him. then again, what did you possibly have to hide from him?

he shuts the door behind him, walking towards your desk. he flips through the notebooks full of vocabulary and math equations, a few doodles and song lyrics as well. your loopy handwriting made him smile, his name in cursive letters on a random page. he shuts the notebook, turning to your dresser. opening the first drawer, he finds something he was hoping to see.

he’d deny he was a perv whenever the thought came into his mind, but as he stuffed a pair of panties into his pocket, he couldn’t exactly justify why it wasn’t a perverted action. he’d simply say, “it’s my girlfriend’s, it’s fine.” after exploring your drawers a bit more, he quickly grows bored. instead, he moves to the closet. more clothes, shoes, and random trinkets filled the shelves, though nothing caught his eye.

“tate?”

oh, shit. he was in big trouble.

“y/n, where were you? you said you’d always tell me if you wouldn’t be back after school,” he says, immediately guilt tripping you to distract you from the fact that he was just rummaging through your things. “i stayed at a friend’s house, we were working on our project. what are you doing?”

god, he had missed your voice.

“you didn’t even tell me that you were staying at a friend’s house.” he was avoiding the question, typical tate behavior. when you roll your eyes, he grows frustrated, his fingers tapping against his thigh. “it’s not that serious, tate, i was gone for a day, i’m not going to come all the way home just to let you know where i am 24/7,” you huff, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“well, if you don’t want me to worry about you, just break up with me! i know you want to,” he shouts, bringing out the tears. you knew exactly what he was doing, yet you couldn’t stop yourself for falling into his trap again and again. “tate, i’m not gonna break up with you, i just don’t want you going through myself when i’m not here,” you sigh, putting a hand on his arm.

“i wasn’t going to, i just missed you, i didn’t have anything to do,” he defends, though he doesn’t pull away. he was getting just what he wanted, you to feel bad for him. “i’m sorry,” you frown, rubbing his arm. you had nothing to be sorry for, but it’s what he wanted to hear.

he gives you a pout, looking at you with those big eyes. god, it was never that serious. he walks into your arms, resting his head on your shoulder. “you still love me, right?” he asks. he knew you did. he just wanted to hear you say it. that’s a win in his head. “yes, tate, i still love you,” you says, rubbing the boys back. how did he do this so well? you were just mad at him! “i love you too. just stop leaving me for so long.”

y’all this did not eat, trust i will put out something better

i’m BEGGING the evan fans to find me PLEASSEE

#evan peters x reader #ahs murder house #tate langdon #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon x y/n #ahs murder house x reader #american horror story #y’all i need evan requests #kai anderson x reader #kit walker x reader #kyle spencer x reader #james march x reader #murder house

[a-mag-a-day]

MAG 75 - baking in the kitchen (apple something)

"My brother Grant was always afraid of heights. I remember we used to climb trees as children. He would always get scared halfway up, and it would be an hour of coaxing and reassurance before he managed to climb down. He still tried to climb them, though." - I'm the same. I always wanted to climb trees, it looked fun! But at 2 meter up tops I would get scared. Looking down already gave me vertigo and I felt, as though I suddenly lost every sense of balance. Same on ladders.

"Stairs were often more of a problem, especially if there were windows from which he could see the ground getting further away." - As long as the stairs are properly closed off, I don't have a problem. If it's just a railing to put your hands on I'll probably try to stay as far from the edge as possible. I get a lot of intrusive thoughts as soon as I'm somewhere high up with only a railing… It's just like the railway bridge in episode 5 of I Am In Eskew. I'm technically not afraid of heights then, I'm afraid of my own mind.

"I mean, it’s not that I don’t love him or anything, he’s my brother, it’s just that we’d always got on best when we spent most of our time apart." - I don't get (equal) relationships like that, when the focus is on "most of the time apart". I totally get that there are friends you dearly love but just wouldn't want as a roommate, or wouldn't want to spend vacation with. Living together (even if it's only for a week like the vacation example) is something entirely different. But, saying you get along best when most time apart? Why bother? What actually is this "getting along" then? (I get, that this is often something that's referred to family members. When there is a sense of "I have to do something with that person once in a while because we're related". But even then? When there's no reason to interact with that person?)

"Normally I would have reminded him that leaving a window open invites burglars" - on a scale of burglars to librarians, what would Mike Crew be? xD

"I’d love to say that next thing I knew I was on the ground with a broken arm, but I remember every second of that fall. Like it was happening in slow motion." - Oh, there we have the Matrix Effect again, as someone told me it was called in an earlier ask.

"My phone had been smashed in the fall, and when I asked Grant to use his, he got very quiet and told me sheepishly that it, like his keys, was still inside the house." - Who lets their phone at home when going out?? Even in 2006! XD

"I did not invite Grant, which you would have thought would make him think twice about coming with me, but you’d be wrong. As soon as I mentioned it to him, he was online checking if there were any more seats on my flight. There were." - Oh the disappointment, the contempt even at "There were". Also wtf this is so super out of line to just invite yourself like that.

"Then he kept bugging me to change my hotel booking to a twin room until I finally relented and did so. Every time I mentioned something I was planning to do he would invite himself along, generally getting me to arrange it and saying he’d pay me back." - I know someone like this, but hey are also a master of gaslighting so I cut ties. Grant though doesn't sound manipulative or malicious in any kind. He sound just naive. Guess it makes it even more a tragedy for the statement-giver to blame himself. It probably would have been easier to rationalize if he somehow thought his brother deserved it. (Though I'd be careful with this. Certain fates you don't wish your worst enemy.)

"I think that’s why I decided to take him up Tour Montparnasse." - So I googled that building because I also have no idea what that is. The rooftop observation terrace is actually well secured, there's not only a metal railing but a glass box surrounding you when you stand near the barrier. I would probably feel proper uncomfortable standing there, but not totally lost since there is no physical way for me to get over that barrier.

That part with the text messages, the picture and what the statement-giver heard when his call went through is really cool again. I love unlogical spaces like this with no escape (and by love I mean in that way of fascination for horror. I wouldn't actually love being in that situation xD).

"I really hope Grant is dead. Because, if not, I have a horrible feeling deep inside that he’s still on that ladder." - I like the moral dilemma of that statement. The guilt of the statement-giver about something happening that totally was out of his control, but it still happened because of his actions. Who would have thought it could have such dire consequences. Very similar to Jon's arc…

"but it also puts me in mind of the fate of Robert Kelly, the skydiver who fell for far longer than he…" - There a significant change of recording at "the skydiver who fell for far longer than he…". I wonder what happened here? Because these statements surely are never simply in one take, there are always cuts. So why does this one sound so different all of a sudden? Also Jon here making the connection between Crew and Fairchild.

The circumstances of Jon receiving all tapes from Basira are great! Oftentimes you can feel that some things just HAD to happen in order for the story to progress with no other reason behind it. While Jon getting access to all the tapes was still something that needed to happen, it does feel natural and relatable. Basira is angry that the police is so careless and blatantly lying to cover everything up. The police probably also doesn't care about the tapes so Basira takes them to someone who does care. It's like Jon says. The police lost Basira's loyalty. And by the time they notice the tapes gone, it's probably just fine by them. One less weird thing to deal with.

I'll be honest, I'm not sure I'd be able to handle that kind of brother in my life any better than the statement giver did 😬

#a mag a day #tma #the magnus archives #episode asks #mod ashes #tma spoilers #lycanlovingvampyre #mag 75

[unholyplumpprincess]

Find Me Again

Wanted to write smth for Pyramid Head since I’ve always loved the big guy!!!

Summary: In an attempt to escape your ex, you crashed the vehicle you two were in. Instead, you wind up in a place that burns and smells of ash. You find an unlikely ally, and beloved companion amidst the nightmare and come to fall in love with that metal-headed executioner. But you wind up separated, only to come back to him in a new game, a new world, hosted by a spider-legged God. Or! In which you and Pyramid Head are a thing in Silent Hill and you get sent back to the outer world. Trying to hunt down Silent Hill again only to find yourself in the realm of Fog. And soon to meet an old friend again.

!!!Minors and ageless blogs do not like or reblog as this is an Adult work, please respect my boundary!!!

Reblogs > Likes! Please Reblog if you leave a like :D Esp if you wanna part two!

Fandom: Dead by daylight / Silent Hill

Relationship: Pyramid Head/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, canon typical violence, mentions of a virginity kink and corruption kink, Pyramid head man handles you (consensually), Reader is gender neutral and ambiguous, implied past abuse from readers ex

Words: 5k

_________

This wasn’t your first nightmare, but you sure hoped it was your last. 

This world had rules, it seemed. Fairly simple. A god-like being called The Entity wanted you all to play its twisted game. Even being fair enough to allow you Survivors to come back in one piece. Despite the agony of its spider-like claws and the hook impaling into your backs, forever leaving a scar. 

You weren’t helpless, none of you were. It was a fair game laid out. Get out, figure out if you were going to go back and save your teammates, or figure out if escaping was more important. Run from the killers that played your group like you were a sport for them. 

Hunters chasing game. 

In terms of high stakes, you like to think you’d had worse done to you. You’d been in a dark, foggy world once. You'd assumed it had been on accident as you inhaled the ash-filled world with your head spinning.

~Rest under the cut~

Your ex had not been the kindest, putting it lightly. A sick person they’d been. Gaslighting, abusive, not afraid to get physical with you. You two had been driving. And you remember just being so scared, suddenly so overwhelmed with this fear as they’d spoken to you. Telling you that you were really in for it when the car stopped. Words that sounded like a high shriek in your ears from your fear. 

You’d taken the wheel then from their hands, whipping it to the side in the hopes of crashing the vehicle. Unafraid of the death you had expected. 

Instead, you’d woken up in an unfamiliar place. Black and white, the taste of ash heavy in the air. You were a bit dizzy getting out of the car, grunting with the effort to shove the door open. Coughing from the taste of the smoke coming from the vehicle. 

It’d taken you a minute to get away from the flaming car, only for you to realize that your partner had not been in the car. Their door long since open and their body nowhere to be found. The only hint they had even been there had been the blood on the glass and the footsteps in the ash. 

Your heart pulsed in your throat as nausea took over, your eyes looking towards the ground where footsteps were left in the ash beside yours. Tracking towards your window before leaving towards the nearby abandoned town. 

Your lips had quivered, your eyes darting towards the street in the hopes you could simply walk back into the woods where you’d remembered you two were. But to your horror and confusion, the bridge had been totally demolished. Disappearing into a thick fog just past its creaking, swinging metal. 

So that led to you having to stand up on wobbly legs and find your way into the town. Feeling your hands shake as you watched the footsteps in the ash slowly disappear into nothing nearby a building’s alleyway. As if they’d been taken by something invisible. 

The sirens had come later in the day when you’d found a group of women who were screaming at you and calling you impure. A witch. When the black and darkness had taken over, the world decaying around you and these women running for a church-like building, you realized then that this was not a normal town. That this had to be a nightmare, a dream, some sort of other world. 

This couldn’t be happening. 

That’s all you could think when you heard this god-awful sound of screeching following the siren. A man with a pyramid-like structure had come from seemingly nowhere. His walk wobbled with the sword he was dragging across the ground- something you could only imagine was unbelievably heavy. He seemed to have a vendetta, a path towards the women who were screaming ‘Demon’, ‘Devil’, and ‘Executioner' at the being heading right for them. 

You don’t think you could get the image out of your eyes of him picking one up off the stairs of the church and peeling the flesh from her body like a banana. And though he never spoke a word, in your heart you knew he thought this was a way of ‘cleansing’ her. Of removing someone who could hurt something he defended. 

You think you had more to fear than just your ex lurking around here. 

At some point, you realized this was no longer you trying to find a way out of the town, but rather trying to survive. No one was your friend as far as you were concerned. And anytime you heard those sirens you knew nowhere was safe. The church, assumingly, was safe from the Executioner running around. But anywhere else had more of those creatures.  

You learned pretty quickly to avoid the hospitals after getting an eyeful of nurses and far too many cuts on your arms that you worried would become infected. Learning to avoid the Executioner- but not because you had met him. 

But because you could see what he could do. 

What if he had thought you needed to be cleansed? That’s all you could imagine whenever you caught even a peek of him. How he could lift you up effortlessly and grab your flesh, peel it right from your muscle and toss you aside like yesterday’s trash. 

And then one day had come the ultimate decision. 

Your ex had found you, and you felt nausea overcoming you in a wave when you’d seen them. Realizing that even in this strange world, that for once you had felt free. Free from the fear they gave you, free from the pain, free to laugh at your own jokes that you told yourself. 

They’d practically snarled at you, grabbing your arm and starting to yell at you. Making you feel small all over again as tears welled up in your eyes. Fear making your lips quiver and not having the strength to shake them off. 

You remember the loud sound of the siren, how your ex had gone silent as the world began to peel away and fear settled into their eyes. You remember the terrible screech of the blade on the concrete. 

You remember for the first time since you’d gotten there, that your first instinct wasn’t to run away. 

The pyramid-headed being that you had come to mentally call the Executioner was at the end of the road. You didn’t think as you’d broken from your ex and gone running for him instead, despite the yelling behind you. You remember thinking you didn’t care if that great blade came slamming onto you, or if he’d take you and skin you like he’d done that woman. You just remember thinking- 

You just remember thinking... 

Anyone but them. Anything but them. 

You remember sobbing your eyes out when you’d gotten in front of him. How the Executioner had paused and cocked its helmed head with a loud, groaning creak. You expected the pain, you begged for it, blubbering and not one of your proudest moments. The fearless feeling you’d had when you’d grabbed the steering wheel returning to you. You just wanted to get away from them- 

And the blade had slammed down. 

Right next to you. 

A slow crouch, a kneel of one of his legs and that same groan echoing from his helm. A dirtied hand had cupped your chin, tilting your head this way and that as you sobbed hysterically. Tears poured down your cheeks as you pleaded for him to kill you. Even going so far as to take that large hand and pull it off your chin, sliding it down to your throat where your lips could only form the words and no sound could leave you. 

It had all happened so quick. One second you were pleading this Executioner to end you, and the next you’d heard that terrible creak and watched him stand. You wanted the pain, closing your eyes tight and steeling yourself for it. 

But instead, he’d kept walking. 

Walking right past you and towards your ex. 

That same sound you’ll never forget. Of them screaming your name in fear for once. And how, for once, in that moment, you felt a sick sense of glee. To not be the one full of fear, to not be the one standing there in terror and waiting for the agony that was to come. To not be the one wondering what hell would come the next day, but too scared to leave for something worse that would come. 

You didn’t watch. You didn’t need to. Not with the screaming and the sounds that echoed behind you. 

You expected him to come back and finish the job. After all, maybe he liked the idea of tormenting a soul. Instead, you’d opened your eyes when you heard his heavy breathing to see him standing before you, a hand outstretched to you and almost this confused groan echoing from that pyramid. 

You’d taken his hand that day and followed where he led. It’s as if he took a protecting role over you, not allowing anyone else to touch you so long as the world was blackened and decayed. When the world was made of ash, you took your chances in exploring, hoping to find some answers to this world, something that would make sense so you could help in some form or another. 

You learned he was a protector, originally to a little girl. And that the women you’d met were a part of a cult that believed them to be the sinners. Specifically, that the little girl had been a witch. More and more information being found led you to believe that because you hadn’t done anything wrong in life, that you weren’t actually supposed to be here. 

You guess it was due to you being in the vehicle and causing the accident. But the cause was for good reason, not simply because you were trying to kill someone for the hell of it. That’s what you had come to the conclusion of, at least. Something you open up about when Pyramid Head- something you fondly referred to him as- comes around once again when the sirens go off. 

You think he understands when you speak. Though he couldn’t speak back, he could nod or shake his head, making slow gestures with his hands until you could understand him in turn. You still remember feeding him a can of peaches for the first time, watching this long tendril come out and wrap around the whole thing of peaches and zip it underneath his pyramid. The loud crunch of metal heard and yet no knowledge in your mind that he even had a mouth. 

You had been there for about two years trying to figure out how to get out. Two years was a long time, and a long time to share time with another person. You’d ended up falling for the big guy, taking comfort in his touch and offering him what you could only assume was the first gentle touches of his life. Kissing his hands, helping wash them, kissing his helm and feeling unafraid if its edges cut your lips. 

You’d gotten bold with him. Feeling your confidence that you used to have before you had been with your ex begin showing itself again. A bit flirty in nature. 

Sometimes you’d take his hands and wrap one around your throat. Murmuring how he wouldn’t hurt you unless you asked for it. Always delighting in that low sound that would come from him. The low groan and how his fingers would twitch before sliding down your neck and shoulder to squeeze you fondly and keep walking. 

Memories of how he’d lead you to showers to cleanse yourself, of feeling his hands on you, of being able to taunt and tease him. You learned quick of his thing about corruption, anytime you found a new outfit of white or reminded him of you being untouched. How his breathing would become heavier, his hands a bit rougher on you, or his loud groans and growls when he could only thrust between your thighs without ever entering you. 

Taunting and teasing a being known as a Devil and a God around these parts may not have been your smartest thing to do, but damn if you didn’t get off on the power trip of it. Similarly getting off on how gentle he could be if you warned him to be. How those large hands you’d seen rip people apart would caress your hips with unknown gentleness. 

Finding your way out had happened on the second year on accident. Someone had come into this place you’d come to know as Silent Hill. A detective sent to find you and your ex who were deemed missing persons; One of your friends had called it in, telling them that your ex was a danger to you and that you could be found dead and not just missing. 

You aren’t sure how the detective found a way out. You remember screaming when he’d taken your hand, ushering you out with him as you’d tried to rip yourself from him. Hearing the loud groan following the sirens overhead. You never even got to see him again, the world all fading to white so quickly. 

They labelled you with Foul Play in the end when you’d finally gotten out. They also labelled you delusional, the investigator telling you that you suffered from Stockholm syndrome for the ‘beast’. Not that they believed him either, they labeled him delusional. He was told he’d heard too many of your stories and therefor unfit for the job since he agreed with you. That he couldn’t separate fact from fiction. 

What a mess your life had been after that. Each night lying awake in tears because you never got to say Goodbye. Always wondering if Pyramid Head ever thought someone finally had gotten to you before the sirens had gone off and he could find you again. 

You had decided to do traveling after that, maybe feeling foolish trying to find your way back into the town. And one night, you thought you had. You thought you’d heard those sirens, feeling a fog washing over you and feeling a sharp glimmer of hope. 

And then you’d woken up here, at a camp site with your new found ‘Survivors’ who worried over you and consoled you when you broke down into tears. But not at having to survive another nightmare, no. 

That you hadn’t found your way back into the first one. 

At least there were people here who sort of understood what you’d explained and the agony that came with it. Some of the Survivors had taken to mingling with the Killers when the designated time came around. The Entity liked the pain of those in love having to hurt each other, but some couples liked the chase. Feng and The Doctor as an example, or Kate with the Huntress. They didn’t get pain from being chased, they liked it. 

When the time came for mingling on that one week of every few months, some Survivors would leave to the different realms. Disappearing into the fog in the hopes it would take them to where they wanted the first time. Whether to spend time with a loved one, or to taunt. Some Survivors stayed behind- Quentin and Laurie never left, for fear they’d wander into the fog into the arms of those who craved to do worse than just kill them. 

And then one day, Cheryl had come into your camp. 

She talked of a school, of a world that tasted of ash, of the creatures with terrible faces. Of the cult-like people she had come across, the death and decay, losing her father- 

And a horrible monster that chased her with a groaning triangle upon its shoulders. 

You felt your breath still as a few pairs of eyes glanced to you. Your eyes flickered over her, and she must have caught the recognition in your eyes because she’d looked at you with a breath of relief. “You’ve been there too?” 

“Yeah,” You managed to croak out. “Was there for a long time, kiddo.” 

You bond with her quicker than any of the other Survivors over this. She’s a kid, you learn, just turned 17 not long ago. She’s been through more hardship than anyone her age should have ever faced and you can’t help but feel a sibling-like bond with her. She’s here for a reason, you know, just like all of you. Her surviving qualities were high, her determination just as so. 

You bond over what you both had seen, and you admit that the being Cheryl couldn’t figure out if he wanted to protect her or destroy, was someone you had loved just the same a long time ago. You explain your side just as she explains hers, explaining that she might have been the same child he was set to protect, but something good. Maybe not even her own person. She tells you of her pain and confusion, tears spilling down her cheeks as you hold her through it. 

You don’t ask her who her designated Killer was. You’re not sure if you want that sort of hope, nor do you want to open any wounds for her. 

Like all the Survivors do for the others who join, she’s given explanations and tips to this twisted game. Cheryl insists she’s been through worse, throwing a look your way that makes you feel awful that you knew exactly what she meant. At least in this game of chase, there was always a guarantee to come back, some sort of rhythm to it.  

In the world where you two had seen the stuff made of nightmares, you can understand her confidence now. But she’s just a kid, something a majority of all of you look around at each other and to Quentin who was just a teenager himself as well.  

When the games begin again and four survivors are chosen, taken from the camp where they shall awaken in a realm they may or may not be familiar with, the rest of you carry on as normal. You lie awake most nights, feeling this strange feeling in your heart as if someone or something was calling you. 

Recently you’d been having fitful nights of rest, but not quite nightmares. Where the world tasted of ash, and yet the world was calm all the same. Flashes of metal, flashes of blood, flashes of large hands caressing you and hearing yourself gasp, followed by the low groan of metal.  

Sometimes you dream of him. The Investigator’s words of Stockholm syndrome curling in your mind. Even as you dream of how gentle he’d been with you, hands running over you, bringing you cans of food that he found, or even comics or stuffies to entertain you. Memories or dreams. Dreams involving things you never got to do or say. Of where his hands wrap around your throat and you beg him to squeeze harder. 

Your current dream is a little different. 

You feel like your body is being run through syrup, hard to move your limbs or have any control over them, but you’re walking. The whispers of the Entity and its voice that sounded of 20 people with varying emotions calling to you. It taunts you, as it had taunted many others. 

Normally this meant it was choosing you for an upcoming match, preparing you to put on your fighting spirit. 

And yet, the whispers come to a halt all of a sudden. The loud groan of metal and the screech of a blade upon the ground, biting into unseen concrete. You can’t speak when doors open in front of you, the blinding light outlining a silhouette. An...awfully familiar one at that. 

Your lips part to speak, but nothing comes from you. And when you go to step forward again, you watch the giant metal pyramid atop his shoulders turn for you. A loud groan as it tilts to the side in a hard gesture, one he’d always done to you. You can’t help but smile, outreaching without thinking about it, only to watch in puzzlement as he seems to be glowing a strange orange. The blade suddenly looking more menacing with a slow shake of his pyramid of metal and the blade curling in his grasp to be pointed. 

Right at you. 

Your eyebrows knit, confused, trying again to call out to him. Your hand outstretches again, and you’re aware of the cage-like bindings around you. Your heart crushing all at once as he suddenly charges you and the blade raising high above his head- 

You awake before it makes contact. Gasping as your cheek is set on cold concrete in a dark room full of desks. You sit up with a startle, your head whipping around you in the quiet, only able to hear the shake of your own breath. 

You hear once last final whisper of the Entity, a cruel murmur of, “Have fun. And do not forget to thank Us.” 

The world comes to you slowly as you’re able to get up, aware of the breathing to your right and look over to find Claudette waking up as well. You two make eye contact, and she scrunches her brows in confusion. A silent question of where you were. You look around with her, swallowing thickly at the sight of decay and hearing the all too familiar loud sound of a siren ringing around you. 

You look back at her again, your expression possibly reading all she needs before she’s making a gesture for you to lead the way. 

The Entity liked toying with its new survivors and killers alike, bringing familiar surroundings to them. For you, it had been the hospital you had been kept at when they deemed you unfit for society. And it seems like for Cheryl, her unhappy place had been the place you had even tried to go back and search for. Though you knew the school wouldn’t be how you remembered it, nor would it be for her either. Hooks would be placed, new dead ends, twists and turns with only one monster walking about. 

You swallow hard, wondering if that dream had been a threat, a warning, or some sort of prediction? If...If your Protector was in here with you, did the Entity change his memories somehow? Or did he not remember you at all anyway? Was there any guarantee what he thought? 

What if he did remember, but held a grudge and thought you had abandoned him?  

You were so uncertain. Your hands shaking as you work on the wires of the generator with Claudette on the opposite side of you, following the gentle hum of it coming to life. You two work through it pretty well, no increase rate of your heartbeat, no strange humming, no sign of the Shape with how quiet it was. 

Nothing. 

It’s...eerily quiet, and you’re unsure where the other two are. 

With a pop and a click, the lights crank on and the generator is complete. You both stand, sharing a look without words to start working out your next approach. 

Then it happens. 

All at once, you feel the thrum of your heartbeat increase, watching Claudette share a look with you. She holds a finger to her lips, pointing at the stairs to imply she thinks whoever it is had to be upstairs. You make a motion for her to go ahead on without you. 

You watch her nod and head down the hallway into the thick mist to either find teammates or another generator. 

You feel foolish as you stand by the lit generator, feeling...You're not entirely sure, hope maybe? If that dream had been some sort of prediction, maybe you could live with him not recognizing you if it meant you could finally tell him you were sorry. To explain you never meant to leave him, that you’d been forced to. That no one understood your desire to find that wretched place again. 

That you couldn’t find your way home. 

To your left is a long hallway, to your right is the lit-up generator thrumming to life. Your back is to a wall, your eyes on the staircase and feeling your throat tighten. Your body screams at you to run, to hide, to stop being so foolish.  

But when he comes down those stairs, a groan to the familiar metal atop his head, and a sword clicking off each staircase? You can’t help but feel relief course through your veins and your lips trembling as they part. He seems dead set on a hunt, a mission towards your generator, before the pyramid atop his shoulders seems to tilt towards you. 

All at once, your Protector stops at the bottom of the stairs, looking directly at you with the point of his pyramid aimed at you. Your heartbeat feels like it’s in your throat, your breath shaking and your legs feeling like jelly under you. 

Your eyes flicker to the Great sword still with its tip upon the last staircase, but they quickly go up to the pyramid when you hear the low groan of it tilting. 

“Hey, big guy,” You croak out, your voice sounding hoarser and thicker than you wanted it to. You watch as his head tilts again, subtly and with yet another groan, his hand gripping tighter on the hilt of his blade. 

You swallow thickly, feeling the tension in the air and almost sensing his confusion. “I’m right here, do you remember me?” You start again, your voice wavering just as your eyes betray you and dot with tears. Emotions overwhelm you, and you’re sure the Entity is getting off on its curious desires to see such a dynamic like this. Where agony coursed through you, confusion, mentally begging to see anything on him that said he did remember you. 

“Please,” You whimper out, feeling your knees wobbling and your body unable to turn and run. Held perfectly still like a deer in headlights. 

He takes a step forward, and your knees finally give out under you as you slide down the wall with tears spilling down your cheeks. Only feeling more pathetic as he comes closer and closer with each slow step. 

“Please,” You whimper out again, more desperate as you tilt your head up towards him when he stands in front of you. Your neck strains at this angle, your eyes blurred with tears. You don’t feel scared, you only feel what could only be described as yearning. Longing for this man. Like as if you had been but a teenage romance and one of you had to move away, finally seeing your other half again and feelings coming rushing back. 

“Please,” You choke out. Pyramid Head has stopped in front of you now, the low metallic groan heard as you blearily see him through your tears. You reach for him with shaking fingertips, your breathing heavy in your own ears and your heart rate increasing. 

You expect your dream to come true. For his great blade to come slamming down onto you or for him to toss you over his shoulder and drag you kicking and screaming to a hook. 

You don’t expect his gloved hand to delicately take your outstretched hand. 

You tense, waiting for him to yank you. But instead, his hand clasps over yours, his thumb running over your knuckles. You manage to blink your tears away, your breath shaking and looking at him in awe. He has no face to show emotion, not even a voice, but you can feel it in how he touches you. The same way you looked at him. 

Disbelief. A dream. Not real. 

You’re yanked to your feet and it makes you yelp. But before you can even react, he’s yanking you upwards and over one shoulder. One hand firmly grabbing your ass and the other doing the slow drag of his blade across the ground.  

You don’t...feel endangered. Perhaps that is foolish of you, but all you can really concentrate on is how Pyramid Head feels. Seeing the lines of his back through his apron flexing with each step and each press of his fingertips against your ass. 

The Entity had told you ‘Have fun and don’t forget to thank us’. Now you think you understand what it means when you are taken to a room and set on top of a desk.  

You don’t have to wait for him to do anything before your legs are wound around his waist, taking his hand that grabs onto the curve of your side and guiding it up your body. You press his fingers around your throat, delighting in how you can hear the sound of his metallic groan have an edge of a growl into it. “Did you miss me?” 

The press of his hand tells you enough. You give off a breathy, delighted laugh when his hips hump forward against yours. A desperate sort of groan leaving him when you reach up to hook your fingers under the metal of his pyramid and jerk him forward. Gently pressing a kiss to the pointed tip. 

“Made you wait long enough, I think. Wanna take me, sweetheart?” You murmur out to him. Another breathy laugh leaving you when Pyramid Head’s hand falls from your throat to grab your hip instead to try and jerk you closer. As if trying to fuck you through your clothes as his hips hump against yours. 

Desperate. Wanting you. His sword clattering to the floor so both his hands can grip your hips to try and yank you forward with a low groan. 

“Thatta boy.” 

You were definitely in for a fun match. Not to mention you save your fellow Survivors some sweat and tears. 

You just hope you won’t be too loud... 

#Pyramid head #Pyramid head x Reader #Silent Hill #Dead by daylight #dbd #dick by daylight #nsft #lemon #princess writing

[missyasf]

Game Of Hearts

| 2 |

↳ Summary: Your life is in monotonous tones of grey, day in, day out. Nothing matters besides your sister, the only thing you remember is seeing fireworks before waking up to Tokyo abandoned . Soon enough you are properly introduced to the deadly Borderlands where you must fight for your life in Games to survive. When things can’t possibly get worse soon division arises and rivalries are made. No matter what though, you are constantly plagued by a blonde who, no matter how hard you try, just can’t seem to go too far without.

↳ Pairing: Chishiya/Reader

↳ Genre: Angst, smut, thriller

Word Count: 7k

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Trigger Warning: ⚠️ much like the manga/Netflix adaptation this will be a dark fic which includes mentions of prostitution, attempted murder, child ab*se, sexual harassment, heavy grief and attempted suic*de among other things. Additional warnings will be added for chapters when triggers are brought up. Please read with caution if these are triggers for you or just skip all together! 

“So...you beat a 6 of diamonds by yourself on your first try?” 

..what the fuck was your sister doing. No really. What did she think she was doing? She had this...look on her face ever since she had been formally introduced to Chishiya and you didn’t like it one bit. Akari had exchanged glances with you several times as you wanted to wilt in embarrassment while your sister continued to parade with this act.

“It was a game of Blackjack, I wasn’t familiar with the rules but after one round it was easy to pick up.” If anything this was a good stroke on his ego which he had to know was getting on your nerves. 

It was painfully obvious your sister was trying to make an effort to show some sort of attraction to him to get his attention? You weren’t sure, truthfully all you knew was that if you knew it had to be clear to Chishiya as well who as always kept that same stoic expression on his face, not the slightest interest besides potentially making you mad, “Losers were hung and cheaters were shot.” 

You scrunched your face as you watched his eyes flicker to yours briefly, a glimpse of a cheshire smirk on his lips that vanished instantly making your eyes hone into a childish glare. He knew you didn’t like this! He knew it! You just knew that he did! 

“Hey, not to come off strong or anythin’ but…” Akari scrunched her nose, “Is your sister a virgin or something? She seems like she really wants to hop on that guys dick.” 

You didn’t mean to flail at her words but they were just so jarring to hear. Virgin? Dick? Chishiya? No way in hell should those three words ever be in the same sentence. This drew his attention briefly despite not hearing what Akari had said- thank god.

“I don’t fucking know…!” You whispered harshly to her, “And it’s none of my business but…” you rubbed your neck as you sighed, “She probably is.” You relented making Akari howl laughing as you pinched the bridge of your nose, “She’s always had this thing with being insecure and feeling like she’s never enough for guys…personally I always felt the opposite.”

“You’re extremely attractive and no man is worthy of you?” Akari tilted her head as she shrugged, “I can see it.”

“No!” You replied a little flustered, tugging on a strand of hair, “I mean I feel like if she was just confident in herself she’d get laid as much as she wants…” you had decided to not continue your original words with what you had intended. Which was, Nanami always compared herself to you. Nothing made you feel worse than knowing she constantly beat herself up because of you. 

Many considered it pretty privilege. It existed, sure.

Did you experience this? More than your fair share, more than you ever wanted truthfully. To the point of feeling dehumanized in a way. Particularly in your line of work as a prostitute before all this happened. Or maybe it was before then? You can’t remember anymore. 

Regardless, you often found that while people were much nicer to you. They are always extremely insincere. Particularly men. Watching Nanami get a little closer to Chishiya made you immediately stand up as you gave her a menacing smile, “Nanami, can I talk to you for a second, alone?” 

….

“What’s the problem with it!” Nanami had that sour pout she always sported when you call her out on something that wasn’t typically considered- but she also knew- wasn’t a good idea either, “Sure he’s not a prince charming but…” She tugged on a strand of hair as she let a tiny girlish smile tug on her lips, “He’s still pretty cute, and besides we almost just died tonight! I feel like I earned it.”

Shifting away from her, you facepalmed as you sighed, you understood. You did, you all almost died and now what better way to celebrate then getting finally losing your virginity in celebration. No you couldn’t relate to that in particular but you understood. Still...couldn’t she have picked someone a little more… “I just...don’t think it’s a good idea talking to him. That’s all…! I mean seriously, look at him. He’d probably stab us in our sleep if it meant he got an extra charge on his phone.”

“What? So you’re saying I can’t talk to him?” Nanami crossed her arms as she glared at you ungratefully, as you wistfully sighed, looking out to where the other two sat, they were a good distance away where they both sat talking at the fire Akari had built.

You glanced away from her as you puffed a breath, not sure why she was getting such a sour attitude, did she seriously like this guy that much already? Because that wouldn’t do, at all, “Look I’m not saying you can’t talk to him I’m just saying...stop...whatever you’re trying to do! Chishiya is...Nami…!” You cried out in frustration as you grabbed your head, “A guy like that is only going to gaslight the fuck out of you! Take it from me, no amount of skill in bed is good enough for that! He’s trouble Nanami.” 

“Then why did you ask him to come with us?” Nanami accused you as she glared at you even more sour than before as you groaned. To be fair he did decline at first. Initially you had asked Chishiya about the beach just as a start to figure out what the guy Ryu was talking about but all of sudden Chishiya said he changed his mind and he wanted to stay with you all. Probably out of curiosity of what the Beach was. You couldn’t blame him. 

“He wanted to come with us regardless of me because of looking for the Beach!” You retaliated, why was she getting so defensive!? You just had her best interest at heart here! Whatever if she really wanted to sleep with him that much it wasn’t your business but you didn’t want to deal with her crying when he busted one and conveniently found a reason to leave again. You paused your thought as you glanced at Chishiya who was looking up at the sky.

Would he really do something like that though? Brief hesitation passed through you, you didn’t know. You didn’t know anything with him. For the first time in your life, you didn’t know. And it put you on edge. Severely. What was his intention here? A part of you doubted he’d even sleep with Nanami, just because of who he was. 

Regardless of what happened, you still weren’t sure about him. Just because you had been partnered with Chishiya, you had the distinct feeling, it would be wise to not trust him completely. Not yet at least.

Nanami groaned as she stomped her foot, “Why are you always like this Y/n! Can't you just let me do what I want? I am an adult now.”

Yes that’s right, she was an ‘adult’ now, making very adult decisions. Sighing you rubbed your forehead, deciding to just give up for now, “Yeah you are, clearly. Do whatever you want.” You didn’t have the energy after tonight to try and do this right now. And maybe Chishiya would leave on his own, he seemed pretty intended on that before you had brought up your search. 

Puffing a breath you watched as Nanami stomped away as she crossed her arms and headed back for the camp. You couldn’t believe her right now…! Out of all the guys she had to choose she wanted to choose the most lifeless guy possible…?

You knew why she was doing this, well you couldn’t know for sure but you had the sneaking suspicion it was because when you both were younger it was because guys always tended to linger around because of you. Perhaps that’s where that sense of insecurity came from…? 

Truthfully you never wanted a rivalry between you and your sister, in some ways you considered yourself her caretaker, when no one else was there for her you made sure you were. Every, single, time. You wished she’d just be a little more transparent when it came to things like this and you could work things out without so much emotional stress. Especially now that your life hangs in the balance between life and death constantly. 

Wrapping your jacket around yourself you let out a soft sigh shaking your head before turning to face the car parking building, it spiraled upwards and suddenly an idea struck you. Rather than going back to the camp you entered it, pushing into the small room of staircases where you walked up. 

Your legs ached by the time you pushed the door open to the top floor that overlooked the night sky. A smile slowly crept on your face as you inhaled the cool night air, you used to love doing this back when you were still in school. Climbing up here all by yourself to listen to some music and overlook the city lights. 

Grabbing onto the ledge that overlooked the city you frowned again looking over the wash of black, all the venues must’ve been finished tonight, where some had a game clear or game over would never be known to you. But still, just the notion made you feel nauseous, who could ever do something like this? You tried tracing your memory back but you drew a blank.

Hoping up you sat down on the ledge letting your legs swing out over the blank unknown, looking down you came to the conclusion that if you leaned just a little too far, you’d probably die from falling. Who would’ve thought that would be a kind death compared to other people here. 

Hearing a loud blast you jumped as you looked up at the sky only in horror to watch red lasers shoot from the sky all in synchronicity. Your stomach churned once more at the sight that was straight out of a horror film and within a brief second, suddenly it was gone. 

“It happened last night too.” 

You jolted once more at the cool toned voice as you grabbed your chest, “Jesus do you want me to just slip to my death!?” You chastised as you turned to Chishiya, when did he even get here? Heaving a breath you grabbed back onto the ledge as you leaned back on your hands, “...I guess we know what happens to those who don’t participate in games…” 

How horrid, really...how could this even be reality at all? Was this really some kind of simulation or...experiment? A cruel one? Your mind drifted to the Beach again where Ryu must’ve hoped you’d go with them...His girlfriend though...you weren’t sure you trusted her either to be honest. 

“...Where do you think we’ll find the Beach?” You turned to Chishiya, his hoodie covering his head as he leaned onto the railing overlooking the city that was engulfed in darkness, his eyes however cast out to the sky where those constellations from before only became more vivid. 

He snorted, “Over a body of water, clearly as the name suggests. An actual beach would be too literal otherwise a full name would’ve accompanied it. Perhaps a ship or a hotel? I’ll need a map tomorrow and we can narrow it from there.” 

Tucking your tongue into your cheek you heaved a breath, “I’ve known you less than a day but...I get the feeling I’d hate to be your rival.” It was the truth, Chishiya if anything, was not someone who was considered all bark and no bite. Something about those eyes looked so cold and ruthless. As if he genuinely held no concern or resolve for anyone but himself. You frowned as you watched him carefully, what a sad life to live if that was the case. 

You watched something akin to a smirk twist on his lips, as if he was proud to hear those words despite it insinuating some amount of fear in you. Which you’d say was partially true, not that you truly feared him but...If he was an enemy? You were simply glad he wasn’t. Especially if he was as ruthless as he appeared.

“So you don’t want me to talk to your sister?” 

Your eyes immediately shot open from their lazed state as you twisted to face where Chishiya leaned on the railing, something so annoying about those smug eyes of his as if he was just talking about the weather. Tucking your tongue into your cheek an annoyed smile appeared on your lips, “Oh, so that’s why you’re here? What did she tell you.” 

Chishiya didn’t say anything only looking at you with that cocky smirk and dark eyes as slowly your expression faded as you realized she didn’t tell him anything he just took a guess as to what happened between you both and you just confirmed, “You are very annoying you know that?” Your voice lowered a little as you leaned a little closer to him, your expression dry at the realization you fell right into his trap. 

He shrugged, but you could tell in his demeanor even when you weren’t meaning too you were still feeding that massive ego of his, “Now that you confirmed it, what’s the problem?” You weren’t scared of him in terms of confrontation. Even if you felt the internal voice in the back of your head tell you that you should be. 

“It’s nothing personal against you,” You shrugged, deciding that regardless, it would be best if you were careful with your interactions with him, “Nanami is just…” You pressed your lips together, looking out over the night sky as you spoke, “This world doesn’t deserve someone like her, and someone like you?” A lopsided smile twisted on your lips as you laughed a little, “Be honest with yourself, I shouldn’t have to even explain that.” 

“Someone like me?” Chishiya challenged much to your surprise as you looked at him, it was your turn to be amused as he waited for an answer that you didn’t want to give. Why would you? And personally, it was as you said, it was nothing against him. 

You had no problems with him, “What about someone like you?” His expression turned smug and cold as he spoke, “I get the feeling you just infantilize your sister to the point she feels suffocated, if she chooses to do something stupid it’s only to get away from you. So what does someone like me have to do with this?” His expression became all the more sinister at your face darkening, “It shouldn’t be me you should be worrying about.” He shrugged, that calico smug smile of his on his lips as he shrugged, “So by all means, explain your wording, I’d love to hear you blame shift to ignore your own problems.” 

You glared down at your shoes, infantilized? You didn’t…! Anger simmered in your veins as you took a shaky breath to calm yourself as you let out a short laugh, suddenly looking up with a strained expression as you spoke, “Alright, I was going to be nice, but since you have no social ethic I’ll tell you why. I took one look at you when we first met and all I see is someone who’s completely hollow on the inside. Someone like you?” 

You spat out as your brows furrowed, “Has no remorse or care for others and after trying to figure out why I realized it’s not out of a bad life or mistreatment of any kind. You're just that kind of person that really doesn’t care. You’re the worst kind of person Chishiya, you don’t have any reason for the way you are, and I think you know that more than anyone else. This isn’t me trying to blame shift, I’m very well aware of my own problems, this has to do with someone like you manipulating and taking advantage of anyone, in your own words, stupid enough to fall for it.” 

You shrugged, your expression dim as you had hoped maybe Chishiya would’ve intervened to counter you and dispel your argument, but the more you spoke, the more you watched his expression become more cold and the more your own words were confirmed to you, “And you know what I think?” 

You frowned a little now, somehow saddened by the fact that there was obviously some truth in your words, “I think deep down, you're envious of people like us who can at least outwardly muster the attempt to be kind to people. Where as you?” You laughed a little, “You're so empty, you can’t even fake that. Every time I look at you, I see nothing. No concern, no care, not even anger. Just, nothing.”

The silence between you both, for the first time, felt very loud. Tapping your lip you hummed, deciding to shove even more salt into the wound, a bitter aftertaste about his words previously making you speak, “You know…” You turned around as you hopped off the ledge, now looking up at Chishiya’s figure that was still outlooking the city, “I’d diagnose you as a sociopath, but well...typically they’re charismatic. So I really don’t know what you are. Other than an incredibly sad existence.” 

Walking down the steps by yourself you felt the silence loud as your footsteps echoed. A part of yourself was licking your own wounds at his words, infantilizing…! You didn’t...you paused at the bottom of the steps, your expression wavering as you rubbed your neck...did you really do that to your sister…?

Looking back up at the steps you suddenly felt the urge to go back up and apologize to him, you were incredibly honest in your assessment, but...he did ask for it. Even after you tried to be polite about it. And if you could get anything from that, it was the assumption that he just genuinely thought you couldn’t read him or anyone else that well. 

You shook your head as you went back to the camp, whatever...It’s not like you’d be in contact with this guy for long. Once you all figured out what this Beach was, you’d simply part ways afterwards and you would no longer have to deal with him. Laying down on the taller grass wasn’t a great bed as you looked up at the sky. 

Still...it seemed like you were fire and ice together. You starkly remembered the look on his face, similar to now but something was different when you had both heard the words Game Cleared...you groaned as you rolled onto your side. 

Men were so frustrating.

“Are you sure this is it?” You felt a little reluctant at the sight ahead, there were certainly a lot of people but...it was as if they were far, far away from the reality of the Borderlands. And then it became apparent. Escapism, at it’s pure finest, if you had seen anything like it before. 

Chishiya’s eyes scanned over the map as he nodded, “If it’s anywhere, it’s here.” He confirmed as you all looked ahead as you curved a brow before shrugging as you sighed, it was better than nothing and you could use some answers. 

Strangely, it was as if last night's conversation didn’t exist between you both. You had woken up this morning and continued on as you had before, it was...very strange. You had anticipated he’d either leave or he’d alienate you. Maybe both? But then it occurred to you, he probably just didn’t care what you thought. 

You thought back on his expression which lead you to assume that no...It wasn’t that he didn’t care, granted he definitely didn’t care what you thought, that was a give but it wasn’t that he didn’t care in another way...That expression, it was dark and cold, not angry but...something bitter...How strange. You couldn’t pinpoint it. You were just glad you could, at the very least, co exist for the short while you’d be together.

“Well! Let’s go say hi then! I’m sure they’ll take us right to the leader or something...right?” Nanami leaned over to you in confirmation as you gave a weak smile before shrugging. You didn’t see any weapons and everyone was too busy playing around in the pool for you to assume otherwise. 

“Well shit let’s go! That looks like a lot of fun!” Akari was the first to bolt and Nanami was quickly after her as you and Chishiya walked behind them both and upon someone seeing you they had called out, “New comers!” 

And it was as if the whole party stopped. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you rubbed your neck, “Talk about party crashing...” You mumbled, immediately feeling unwelcome. 

“Hey…! You guys made it!” Ryu had pulled himself out of the pool in excitement as he ran up to you all, a boyish grin on his face in awe, “You found us surprisingly fast! It usually takes most people a week at most.” Well most people didn’t have a brainiac in their group...You briefly glimpsed at Chishiya who stayed just as stoic as always. Had it not been for him it probably would’ve taken two weeks to find this place. 

“Well if you’re here to join us I’ll take you to number 1!” Ryu nodded as he gestured to you all to follow him as you carefully looked around as you frowned, this place almost felt too good to be true...What even was it? 

Opening the doors to the upper level where all the higher ranked...members? Stayed you weren’t sure what you were expecting, “Welcome to Utopia! The Beach!” The man held up a bottle and his frizzy blonde hair swished around with his eccentric waving hands. It was the wall behind him that first you noticed. 

Playing cards had been drawn and only a little more than fifteen were X’d off? Was this supposed to be a whole playing deck? “Number 1! This was the group I told you about last night…!” Ryu waved a hand to you all in excitement, “I think they’d be a great addition to the Beach and it’s search for the cards!” 

“Cards?” Akari echoed out as she crossed her arms, flicking her hat up a bit to see better as you looked between both men.

The man let out a hardy laugh that made you wince a little...why did it feel like he was more than just...eccentric…? “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves Ryu.” The man slammed him on the back a little to hard making him jump as he rubbed his neck sheepishly, “Allow me to introduce myself! I’m Danma Takeru formly, most know me as the Hatter. Here in this paradise we foster hope for all! Drink as much as you’d like, eat to your heart's content do whatever pleases your soul!” 

This was way too good to be true. It had to be...

Something about Hatter seemed absent but you couldn’t figure out what only for it to immediately strike you, it wasn’t that he was eccentric, no...He was definitely neurotic, you weren’t sure how or in what way, but your professor had made your class do a project based on the signs and symptoms of neuroticism based in serial killers that could be attributed to the lead up in their crimes. Not that you assumed this was the potential for Hatter but...well it was the Borderlands and surely it had taken a toll on everyone to a degree...some more then others...

“There’s only three rules to allow you to stay here! The first being when on Beach property, swimwear is required!” He pointed a finger before lifting a second, “The second can be considered quite important.” Hatter turned around as he waved at the large wall, “It’s quite simplistic and I can’t leak my source. There’s only one escape from this hell, and that’s by collecting all the playing cards!” 

All potential problems aside your chest fluttered a little at his words, escape…! So this really was real, and you all were experiencing it and the only way out was through collecting a whole deck? Hatter madly grinned as he spoke, “A team of players is created each night as a group of three or four with balanced strengths in their respective game type where the chances of death are lowered significantly! The way this works is simple, rule two is to give up all your cards.” 

Really? That's all it took, this was…! This had to be full proof, a part of you still felt this was too good to be true, and you were sure part of it had to due with Hatter, despite his obvious signs of some sort of mental illness, he was quite the charming and upbeat person, it would be hard for anyone to not want to match his energy, “That’s right!” Hatter crossed his arms triphumantly, “Once we collect a whole deck a single person will be chosen to leave!” 

What…

Just…Just one person! “But…wait- how does that work? I don’t understand.” You immediately spoke up, pushing forward a little bit as Hatter’s gaze turned onto you, that wild grin of his showing as he chuckled. 

“We have a whole ranked system here! The more cards you collect the more your rank moves and the value of each card contributes to your rank. Creating one full deck is impossible for one person but the impossible becomes possible when you band a whole crew together, we have a lot of repeating cards so once the first person leaves more will soon follow after. That’s the goal of our utopia The Beach!” 

“I can’t believe we’re actually a part of something so…! Hopeful!” Nanami squealed from behind the barrier, she had finished changing faster than you but she was too excited, a brief smile tugged on your face as you glanced at the barrier before back to your dilemma, “I’m gonna go lay out at the pool! Catch up later?” 

“Yeah! Don’t wait up for me I’m...probably gonna be awhile…” You sighed as you rubbed your neck, you never really liked swimsuits all that much…

Nanami hurried out of the room as you sighed, picking up the bikini top in dismay...did they really expect you to wear beach attire the full time? Grabbing the halter top you hummed...beach attire! Okay you could make this work.

It had taken a little longer than you expected to find something that didn’t make you feel so exposed but in the end it worked out. Pulling up the high waisted shorts you ignored how far up your ass it pulled. You’d make it work! Pulling up the sheer beach cover you nodded in affirmation. Still somewhere in your mind lingered an important question, was this really worth it? 

Much to your surprise after Akari had agreed straight away Chishiya was the one after to agree, he didn’t seem thrilled...hardly excited either. It made you briefly wonder if he was only staying because this place had electricity which Ryu explained on the way to the dressing room that was fueled by a mass of propane tanks.

Regardless you wouldn’t be picky...It didn’t seem too terrible here. Just cards for free stay to food and a warm bed? It’s not like you’d get a full deck on your own, much like Hatter said you’d prefer to just live out your days at least in functional condition. And hey maybe if you gathered enough cards you’d move to a higher rank. You still wanted to chat with Ryu but just how the Borderlands worked. 

Closing the door the room you decided you’d search for him immediately.

The hotel was massive and not even all the floors were in use, looking down at your bracelet that was slated with 52, there was only currently what…? Forty members? Maybe a little more? Stepping out onto the terris your eyes scanned the large crowd that was all laid out, some in the pool and you could spot your sister surrounded by three guys, clacking your tongue you shook your head as you watched her giggle. It was hard to believe she had a complex some days but men not liking her...Honestly. 

Close to the middle of the pool you spotted Ryu and Hiroko, who for once had a smile on her face as she splashed him with a giggle. You felt brief hesitation, not wanting to interrupt but...you did want to hear a more detailed explanation about...well everything and Ryu seemed the most approachable…

Shifting a little as you looked down at your attire as you sighed in exasperation, finding a pool chair before shimmying your pants off and kicking off your flip flops before sitting at the edge of the pool dipping your feet in, “Hey Ryu!” You waved over, “Hiroko! Can I have a minute?” Hiroko frowned immediately upon sight of you but with a few whispered words from Ryu she adhered. 

“Hey…! I never did get your name. I really am glad you made it! Hatter has been asking us to go out and find people to bring it to help keep growing the Beach.” 

You offered a small smile as you kicked your feet in the water, it was the heat of july after all and the water was perfect for swimming, “Y/n, and that's my sister Nanami over there.” You nodded towards Nanami who was giggling over two highscool boys who kept shoving each other in hopes of getting her attention, “Thanks by the way, for last night. Honestly if it wasn’t for Chishiya it probably would’ve taken us weeks to find this place. It’s nice here.” 

“You mean the sour blonde?” Hiroko snorted as she glanced over near the pavilion they had set up, turning to follow her gaze you had spotted where Chishiya now was, sporting a pair of white swim trunks and his jacket still zipped up only with his headphones in and on his phone. 

“Is there even a wifi signal here?” You frowned as you tilted your head in wonder, he did look pretty sour sitting there, “Ah- anyways, yeah! That’s him, unfortunately he does live up to expectation.” You rolled your eyes a little as you returned your gaze back to the both of them before offering a weak smile, “What I wanted to ask was...God where do I even start, what are the playing cards, and what do they represent? Given we’re supposed to collect them I’m sure they have some significance, that’s a given.” 

“Playing cards are awarded for each game you play, the numerical value determines how long you’re allowed to stay at the borderlands on your visa, so if you were to complete a game at a value of five, you’d be allowed five days of stay” Ryu explained carefully, “Much like in a regular deck there’s four suits. What we played last night was a Clubs game, it stands for team building, meaning the game is usually associated with needing to work as a team to clear the game. Spades are related to physical activity- ah...not really my strong suit…” He rubbed the back of his neck feeling a bit sheepish. 

“He’s great at them!” Hiroko boasted, obviously proud of her boyfriend as she wrapped an arm around his waist, “He’s just modest- Diamonds stands for intellect and wit, typically anything that has to do with puzzle solving or use of logic and reason. Hearts though….” She winced a little as her nose wrinkled making you tilt your head in confusion, “I’m not sure to be honest, many say it’s a game of psychology, playing with the players minds to make simple game clears a lot harder. I’ve never experienced a heart game though. We’re still missing a lot on the board.” 

You tapped your lip as you hummed, “That doesn’t sound too terrible, I did notice they only have the 2 of hearts and the Ace up on the board...The most they’ve collected is spades and clubs?” 

“They’re the most common from what I’ve seen.” Ryu shrugged, “I’ve also never had a heart game, I had two diamond though and a lot of clubs and a few spades.”

You thought about it for a moment before nodding, alright this made sense, “And I’m guessing numerical value is the rating of difficulty?” 

Ryu brightly smiled as he nodded, “Yeah! We haven’t gotten anything past a seven though! And only one person experienced it and that was a Clubs too…” He rubbed the back of his head in thought, “Well things here only took off a few weeks ago to be fair…” 

“Just a few weeks ago?” Your mouth dropped in surprise before looking around in awe, “I never would've guessed! I thought it would take longer to build up such a crowd honestly…” 

“Not a few weeks-” Hiroko smacked Ryu on the back of the head as he whined a little, rubbing the sore spot as she spoke matter of factly, “It’s been a few weeks that we’ve been here...I think it’s been going for about a month altogether though...Things have been a little...tense…” She looked reluctant as she glanced away, a shadow cast over her face as you frowned, turning your head a little. 

Ryu and Hiroko exchanged looks as she nodded a little, “Well…” Ryu rubbed his shoulder as he lowered his voice, “Hiroko is in the top ten right now because of how much she participates in games, so one day she was with Kuzuryuu, Mihiru and An number 3, 4 and 5 right?” You nodded as you brows scrunched a little, wondering why Ryu seemed a little flighty as his eyes darted around as he lowered his voice once more, “Keep this between us alright? But when they opened the door with Agni- number 2 to a room full of slaughtered people. Apparently Hatter killed them all because they were hiding cards from him.” 

...Oh...so you were right? In assuming Hatter was definitely neurotic. Your professor would probably be proud but somehow you had a hard time taking pride in your assessment.

Hiroko winced a little at the memory as she looked away reluctantly, “...Hatter hasn’t really been the same, he only just created rule number three last week…” Right, rule number three. 

Death to all traitors. You had definitely suspected something was up with Hatter when he had explained that one but...you always tried your best to give the benefit of the doubt to everyone until you could no longer defend their actions by logic.

That one had admittedly caught your attention when Hatter explained that anyone with holding cards would be killed or if they tried to desert the Beach, a little scary but...again it wasn’t like it was possible for you to create a deck by yourself...But know knowing the story behind why that rule was put in place did make you feel a bit...Uneasy.

“That just happened?” Your face twisted a little as you wrapped your arms around yourself, both Ryu and Hiroko nodded. 

“Mhm, just last week. Things are slowly getting back to normal, there've been a few people resistant but I try not to think about it, word of advice? Just stay away from the militant sect, follow the rules and you’ll be fine.” Hiroko, for the first time offered a weak smile, despite her cool disposition she wasn’t too terrible. 

“Coming through y’all!” All three of you turned to watch Akari running full speed at the pool before jumping in making you jump as you covered the droplets of water that sprinkled you, “Whatcha talkin’ about over here? Secrets?” Akari swam up, floating on top of the water with a dorky smile, “I love secrets!” 

You couldn’t help but giggle as you splashed Akari with your foot as she yelped, flailing to stand up right, “Nothing that concerns you, did you abandon Nanami by herself.” 

“No offense but I think she’s doing pretty fine by herself.” Akari snorted as she nodded to Nanami, still yet again surrounded by boys but now had at least three drinks untouched sitting on the glass table next to her. Puffing a breath you rolled your eyes with a smile, typical. 

“They’re back!” Someone screamed before you heard more cheers making you straighten up as Hiroko puffed a breath, laying her arms on the edge of the pool as she rolled her eyes, “They went out to gather supplies because that snake tongue freak kept joking about using Ryu as target practice. I told Agni we were low on dry foods and alcohol so it worked out.” 

“W-well he wanted to set stuff on top of my head to um…” Ryu coughed a little as he looked away bashfully, twisting around you frowned as you watched several men walk in making your expression further contort. They all had guns. Like all of them. How has there not been a mass shootout? 

“We got all the liquor you could need! Get it fresh in the back everyone!” Your nose wrinkled at the sight of several piercings and you immediately knew who Hiroko was previously referencing to. 

“That’s Samura he just joined a few days ago,” Ryu spoke up as he nodded towards the guy with a fucking katanna on his back and tattoos all over his face, “People uh, just call him Last Boss though, he kinda looks like the end boss of a game that takes ages to beat. I think it suits him to be honest, a bit weird though…He immediately joined the militant sect as soon as he joined.” 

Hiroko rolled her eyes as she spoke, “Yeah Niragi apparently took a liking to him or something- I try not to keep up with them, they give me a headache. Plus that guy looks like a total shut in before he got dropped into the Borderlands, he has zero social skills.” You weakly smiled as you rubbed the back of your neck, that was a bit harsh...although you would say Last Boss did seem...there was something so focused yet...absent about his eyes. 

He in a strange way almost reminded you of a toddler that was still working on coordination between completing an action with someone's speech. 

The sun was suddenly blocked and a shadow casted over you as a raspy voice shouted out, “Well what do we have here? Fresh meat.” You glanced up to the tall dark haired figure, oh it was...snake tongue freak? As Hiroko had previously said, you would’ve in any other situation snapped something but this guy was carrying a sniper rifle like it was a loaf of bread. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you looked a little away, unsure of what to say as Hiroko suddenly stood all the way up, pushing herself out of the pool to stand up fully as she gave him a sneering glare, “Niragi go fuck with someone else.” 

The man- Niragi leaned back a little as he took a few steps back, cackling as he held up his hands, his tongue sticking out showing off the piercing briefly before he spoke, “Well excuse me miss bitch, I wasn’t talking to you.” A twisted smile appeared on his lips like it was some sort of sick amusement at Hiroko’s darkening glare, “Lemme see you kitty.” 

You made a noise similar to a yelp as you were suddenly dragged up to your feet and way too close to guy for comfort, his tongue sticking out and you were for a half a second wondering if he intended on licking you, “What a nice little body here, and such a pretty face too.” He cooed out sickeningly as he squeezed your face harshly, as you looked away from him, “I bet you and me would have a great time wouldn’t we.” 

You had dealt with a lot worse truthfully, and somewhere deep inside you were grateful you had otherwise you’d probably be in tears at how terrifying and semi psychotic this man was, “Sorry…” You winced looking up at him with an unappreciative look, “I only fuck people like you when they have a good paycheck.” 

Niragi howled out laugh making you briefly relax for a moment, offering a weak smile, at least he had a sense of- “Hey!” You screeched, suddenly being hauled against him as you squirmed to push away from him as you felt his hot wet tongue on your neck, “Let go!” 

His hands crawled their way up your waist as you squirmed, his tongue dragging up the lobe of your ear as he growled a whisper, “Why deny a good time huh? It’s okay, they’re always more fun when they resist.” He couldn’t get further when you jammed your knee between his legs taking the brief moment of his pain before harshly shoving him into the pool where a loud splash covered everyone who didn’t even pay any mind to the scene which obviously happened often much to your disappointment. 

Hiroko was immediately at your side, something motherish about the way she held you close as you watched Niragi flailed before getting his footing in the pool as he snarled, “You bitch!” Hiroko immediately brought you both back, her chest puffed as she glared him down as he crawled out of the pool, now towering over you both. 

What happened next baffled the both of you, something- No...a rock? It smacked straight across his head, not enough to cause any damage but enough to gain his attention, “These are quite useful for short range,” 

You whipped around in shock at the familiar voice, Chishiya had thrown a rock up before catching it as he glanced at the small thing, holding it up in examination, “Throw it hard enough and it could probably take out an eye,” He looked up at Niragi with perhaps the most frightening smile you had ever seen, his eyes in that classic cold sneer as he spoke, “Looks like you could use it given how blind you are.” 

You stepped away a little uneasy at the tension in the air that suddenly spiked as Niragi glared him down, Chishiya’s lips quirked into a smirk as he shoved his hands back into his pockets, not looking the least bit concerned. 

Wasn’t this just perfect? 

Note: I am by no means a Niragi simp but like,,,he lowkey kinda fun to write when Chishiya is constantly baiting this man into violence. Next chapter is v fun!! lemme know what you guys think so far! :)

#alice in borderland #aib #alice in borderland x reader #aib x reader #aib imagine #chishiya x reader #shuntaro chishiya #alice in borderland imagine #chishiya x reader smut #shuntaro chishiya x reader

[this-file-has-been-redacted]

ok ok ok ok ok i got a request idea

imagine, ok

lasko after hearing about what kody did ok

he seemed pretty mad pretty angry

what do u think would happen if he confronted kody?

CW: Kody. That pretty much sums it up. In other words, manipulation, gaslighting(?), general unpleasantness

If you asked everyone who knew Lasko to describe him in as many words as they liked, neither angry nor confrontational would be on a single one of those lists. Anger came about as naturally to him as flying. Rarely did he have occasion to get truly mad, but now? What he was feeling right now was the closest to furious he’d ever been. The feeling surged in him with renewed intensity each time he remembered the way the freelancer had looked, small and anxious and ashamed as they told him what the water elemental had done to them. It was the shame in the set of their shoulders and the way they refused to meet his eyes that broke his heart and boiled his blood, like they’d somehow convinced themself that this was on them. He wanted to reach out and wrap his arms around them, offer them all the reassurances he could muster, promise them he’d fix it for them, but that wasn’t his place. He wasn’t even sure they considered him a friend. He hoped they did, wanted to be that for them, but he couldn’t control how they saw him. What he could control, however, was what he did next. The proper thing would be to follow protocol. Talk to his supervisor, report it to the administration, then let them decide on the disciplinary action that would be meted out against the person that had done this. But Lasko wasn’t stupid. He knew the system. He knew what was going to happen-- absolutely nothing. The freelancer was human-born, new to the magical world, and that meant the administration wasn’t going to give two fucks about what happened to them, and this water elemental freak was most likely going to get off with just a minor slap on the wrist and a tiny mark on his record. It wasn’t fair. Lasko wasn’t the type to get angry on his own behalf. Most of the time he just ignored the flaws in the system, pretended he didn’t notice the occasional careless remarks during lectures or the teachers that either over- or underestimated his knowledge and abilities, pretended he had the same shot as anyone else at becoming a professor one day, and the constant need for perfection was his way of trying to live up to his own personal standards instead of trying to prove his worth. But this was different. This was them, and this was important. He couldn’t just ignore it this time. Following proper procedure would’ve been the right thing to do. But, fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it, Lasko had a name. Kody. He didn’t have a last name, but he did know Kody’s magical race, and that was enough. If anyone found out he was using his access to the student database for his personal benefit he would surely be chewed out by his supervisors and most likely fired from being a counsellor, but as he typed Kody’s name and specialty into the appropriate fields and waited. The page loaded and Lasko clicked on the file titled Kody [redacted].

Twenty minutes later, Lasko was glaring across the quad at a dark-haired head bowed a the phone, trying to get up the nerve to approach him. This had seemed like a good idea back in the safety of his office, but following through was an entirely different story, not helped in any way by the fact that he hadn’t actually thought of what he was going to say. What was he going to do, just walk up to Kody and say, “Hey, you bridged with my friend without asking and that was kind of a dick move, so kindly go fuck yourself?” He winced at the thought of how that would play out. He couldn’t do this. This was such a bad idea. He stopped himself before he could turn tail and run, taking a breath and reminding himself of why he was here. The image of the Freelancer’s face flashed in his mind and that was enough to spur him into action, striding determinedly toward the water elemental perched on the picnic table a short distance away. When Lasko stopped in front of him, Kody glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow in a mixture of confusion and annoyance. “Can I help you?” Lasko took a breath. His voice when he spoke came out shaky but sure. “W-what you did...it was wrong.” An abrupt start, but a start nonetheless. He paused, waiting for Kody to reply. Kody’s brows furrowed in momentary confusion before a look of realization spread across his face. He’d seen the freelancer with the man in front of him before, and he could guess what this was about. He shut off his phone, sliding it into his pocket and leaning back, resting an elbow on the table behind him. "‘What I did?’ Oh, is helping someone practise their magic against some academy rule that I wasn’t aware of?” There was the barest hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he stared coolly up at Lasko, who was trying his best to maintain eye contact. “You- you know what I’m t-talking about. You bridged with them and you knew they d-didn’t know what that meant. You don’t get to- to just pretend that’s okay.” Kody’s eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t matter. The fact that they didn’t know what it meant doesn’t change the fact that they experienced it. They felt it happen, without all the ideas about its “significance” clouding their judgement, and they were fine with it. If they didn’t have a problem with it, why should you?” “But they did have a problem with it! That’s why they reported it! If they were really “fine” with it, they wouldn’t have felt the need to, but they did.” Anger flared in Lasko’s chest. He knew this was wrong, and so did Kody, but he couldn’t find the words to explain why. "No. No. Don’t try that. We both know they only went crying foul to you because someone else told them they should. And here you are, putting the same idea in their head, like what I did was some crime, instead of the friendly gesture it was. Don’t pretend this is about them.” At Lasko’s bewildered look and lack of response, Kody kept going, talking faster, more forcefully with each word. “They’re the only one that will put up with your incessant babbling, so when I start getting close to them, you help shove this false narrative down their throat that I’m some kind of monster, all so you can keep them to yourself.” Lasko’s eyes widened and he started firing off rapid denials, but Kody continued on like he hadn’t said anything. “You’re manipulating them into turning against me, and they’re too weak-minded and pathetic to even realize it. They’d rather let themself be led along like a mindless sheep than form opinions of their own.” Finally, Lasko had had enough. “Stop it!” he shouted, cutting off Kody’s rant. “If anyone here is being manipulative, it’s you. And for the record? The freelancer is a far stronger, smarter, and better person than you will ever be.” With that he turned on his heel and stalked off, unable to stay there for a second longer. He only hoped that Kody couldn’t see how badly he was shaking as he walked away.

As Lasko rounded the corner of the building, he ran directly into someone else and stumbled backwards, apologies already spilling from his lips. When he looked up at the person, though, he was met with a familiar concerned face. “Lasko? Are you alright?” The freelancer put a hand on his arm to steady him, their eyes filled with worry. “You’re shaking. What happened?” He hesitated for just a moment before the story flooded out in one long breath. He didn’t give them an exact recounting, more of a long summary, but by the time he was finished their eyes were glistening with unshed tears. Before he could say anything else their arms were around him, their face buried in his shoulder. “Thank you, Lasko.” He hugged them tightly in return, his chin resting on their head. As nerve-wracking as the encounter had been, it was worth it. They were worth it. just realized I should probably have a taglist, so uh. tagging a few mutuals. lmk if you wanna be added or un-added!! @daviah @1small-frogs @planticusp @starstruck-strawberry @salad-bar-but-better @teddybasmanov @bug-likes-monsters 

#redacted asmr #fanfiction #redacted asmr lasko #redacted asmr kody #asked and answered #mars #i am so so sorry this took forever #and also it's. mediocre at best #but hey it's finally done!! #so that's something

[lady-z-writes]

Plaything (Heisenberg x fem!reader) Chapter 2

Summary: Reader works for BSAA and is scoping out the village until you get captured by none other than Heisenberg who doesn’t take well to trespassers. Once he learns of your hatred for your job, he wants the information you have and he doesn’t have to try hard to get it. You find yourself drinking, fireside, with him and can’t help but let him touch you. Angie said he’d needed a plaything and, well, you’re it.

Chapter 1

Smutty chapter 2 below the cut:

He doesn’t let you leave – ‘not yet’ – is what he’s told you, but you’re pretty sure he has no intention of letting you go…which…could be worse?

You think you’ve got a minor concussion, but that surely has nothing to do with your reaction to things, right? He’s…charming, oddly. A little socially awkward at times – with his quick speech once in a while.

As you sit in his makeshift kitchen, you ponder what he’s told you last night: that he was taken – ripped from his family at such a young age. No wonder he’s got a lack of social skills.

He’s currently shirtless despite the overall chill in this part of the factory. You’re wearing your knee-high boots and his shirt from last night, considering your tattered clothes are strewn about somewhere outside by the fire – which he let die. You can remember staring out the wall of windows at the black smoke billowing up into the morning sky; Heisenberg’s heavy gasping behind you.

You probably could have snuck out; he wasn’t sleeping but you maybe could have made a run for it. Though you didn’t want to go anywhere. Maybe it was self-preservation: he could be quick to attack if you tried to leave. Plus, you had no idea how to get out of this place, minus jumping from the roof. Maybe that had been his plan all along: make you feel trapped so you didn’t think to go anywhere.

You can’t help but think about your situation prior to coming here. After all the time dedicated to your career with BSAA, all the dates you turned down because your missions kept you away from home more often than not – you sold your fucking house because you never stayed there – this job has torn away so many dreams of yours. It was nice to…just…be still for a moment, even if it’s in the arms of some lord of this strange place.

Shaking off your thoughts, you focus on the present moment – on the shirtless back you’re staring at as he makes coffee; the muscles moving and beautiful under the scars on his back.

His shirt is soft and well-worn; it smells like him and you’re grateful that it takes away the chill in the air.

“When you…-” you interrupt the silence then sigh, shaking your head, thinking better than asking that question. “Never mind, I’m sorry.”

He raises an eyebrow as he half-turns toward you.

“No, speak. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

You nod, reminded that he preferred honesty last night.

“When you were growing up…here…was it just you or were there others?”

“You think we’re really siblings,” he huffs out a laugh. “No, kitten, we’re not. I had…other kids in my similar situation…all killed by that bitch.”

Your stomach drops at the thought of it – of growing up with other kids only to find out the person who claims to be your mother has murdered all of them. For what? For those experiments Heisenberg told you about last night?

“God, I…” you cross your arms over your chest, feeling a chill that comes from within.

“Don’t pity me,” he snaps, then collects himself. “Sorry-” when the coffee beeps, he turns away from you to pour some into those chipped glasses. You’re sure one still has the remnants of last night’s binge. “I just…need someone to understand.”

But how could you? This is way bigger than just you, a little BSAA agent. This is years of mental manipulation, of gaslighting to its fullest extent. This is trauma like you’ve never seen before. He needs help, not a fucktoy.

Of course, you don’t say any of this to him because the anger that has replaced the sadness in his eyes makes your stomach churn and a small bit of arousal to course through you. He must sense this because once he puts your coffee mug down, he brushes his fingers against yours, making a low growl in the back of his throat.

His mouth is almost on yours again when you press a hand to his bare chest. He halts, hums, quirks a brow at your restraint.

“I…could use a shower.”

“…Oh.”

“You’re welcome to join me…”

“Ohh,” he coos at you. “Naughty thing…” his hand cups under your chin. “Follow me.”

You bring your coffee, mostly because you’re still tired. There…wasn’t much sleeping last night.

The bathroom he leads you to isn’t too far from his quarters. There are four shower stalls that are cut out like little cubicles. It’s not as filthy as you’d expected so you’re sure this is where he showers normally. There are towels stacked up on a bench nearby and soaps are piled on shelves near the stalls. You’re going to walk out of here smelling like his soap which is surprisingly comforting to you.

You strip from his shirt, hang it on the hook outside the stall before stepping out of your boots. Heisenberg’s behind you in moments – stripping from his clothes to join you under the warm water.

His hands are roaming all over your body as you wash your hair – the soap trialing over your skin to drip down the drain. Heisenberg doesn’t let you get much further than rinsing your hair out before he’s got you against the wall, mouth on you, facial hair harsh against your skin. Rough hands roam down your body before he shoves a finger inside of you, swirling around, pumping into you just enough to get you mewling.

His hard cock is pressing against you belly and it’s so arousing knowing how needy he is for you. The newness surely has something to do with it. He doesn’t waste much time with foreplay before he spins you around and bends you at the hips. Your forearms press against the tile wall as you get on your tiptoes to help him angle you just right.

He lines up his cock and presses into you harshly – letting out a guttural moan once he bottoms out. The sudden stillness makes you wriggle against him in hopes of getting him to move, but he just grips your hips tighter.

“Uh uh, no. You’re not rushing things like last night. This could take hours and you’re gonna be grateful, kitten.”

You whine as he slowly starts moving in and out of you, the pace tantalizing. The moment you slam your body back against him, he halts completely and makes you count to thirty before continuing on.

“You’re gonna learn,” he grunts in your ear as he pinches your clit between his fingers. His hands grip your neck as you lean back into him. “I want you,” he kisses down your shoulder, “to wash up,” a bite to your back, “before you get to cum.”

“But-”

“No debate,” he snaps, fingers leaving your clit. “Finish up.” The moment you go to follow orders, he pulls your hair, growls, “don’t let my cock slip out.”

This proves difficult but it’s a challenge you’re willing to accept. Thankfully maneuvering in this odd position is distracting. Once Karl watches you washing your legs and front, he slowly thrusts in and out of you. You’re cussing at him and he’s laughing.

“Could you maybe not?” you whimper out.

“You have a job to do. Get it done.”

“You’re distracting.”

“So are you,” he retorts. You hum at him, push back against him to get some deeper stimulation. “That’s a thirty second count,” he reminds you, grabbing your hair, pressing a palm to the wall. “Brat.”

Thirty seconds go by before he allows you to move again – but you’re done washing what you can reach. Once you pass him the soap, he slides out of you and you whine at the loss. A large hand comes to your throat, pressing, forcing you upright as he drips soap down your back. Left hand still at your throat, his right scrubs in the soap. The moan that leaves you is humiliating but, fuck, this feels so good.

You finish washing completely and you’ve never been more eager to rinse off – practically rushing under the water which makes him chuckle. As you’re rinsing, he washes up too and you can’t help but stare at his body.

When towel-drying, you notice he’s under the shower spigot, hand pumping around his cock as he stares at you. Your stomach flips at the attention.

“Now,” you hear his voice barely there over the hum of the shower. “Get on my bed; ass in the air. Wait for me.”

You want to protest, but you know he’s got powers and that probably won’t end well for you. Instead, you slip on your boots and try to find your way back through the maze of hallways to his room.

You hadn’t been alone in a room since you got here. The noises of the factory are pretty alarming and you can’t help but let your mind wander to the zombie-like creature you’d seen on the bridge yesterday.

Shaking off the memory, you seat yourself on his bed, kick off your boots. The sheets are still messy from last night. Letting your naked body settle and relax, you feel a chill of arousal run through you at the thought of Heisenberg’s return.

Footsteps down the hallway startle you; you’re unsure if you should cover up in case it’s someone else or do as you’re told and put your ass in the air for him.

You do the latter because you’re worried about what metal pieces could go flying in this room if you don’t follow orders.

“Mmmm good girl,” he hums as he steps in the room, your ass on display for him.

Seven steps toward the bed and it’s shifting with his weight. Rough hands grip your hips as he positions and shoves his still-hard dick back inside you.

“Fuck, still hard for me?” you tease.

All you earn is a soft grunt. “Lay down.”

You follow orders, mentally preparing for something intense.

Instead, he lays too, pulling you against him in an almost-spooning position. And he just lays there. Impatiently, you start struggling against him but he’s too strong and merely holds you in place without much effort.

“Really?”

He chuckles against your hair as he presses a kiss to the back of your head.

“You’re gonna learn, kitten.” At his words, you whine and try to fight out of his grip. “So damn feisty…” He’s got you tight against him. “I’ve got all night, buttercup, keep moving…” at his tone, you halt. “That’s what I thought. Bad girl. Sixty second count…for now. Go.”

Your punishment. Sixty tantalizing seconds later, you’re sweeping your fingers across his forearm that he’s got draped over your body. His fingers twitch to life, dance across your flesh, meander between your legs.

Your head is thrown back against him as you moan when he relentlessly massages your clit.

“Aw, you like that? I’m not even moving my cock in and out of you and you’re purring just from my fingers? So good for me. So fucking good…”

Still, he refuses to move. You tense your pelvic floor just to see what he’ll do. He breaks for a moment, inadvertently rutting against you at the tension of your muscles around his cock.

“You bitch,” he growls. “240 count.”

“W-what!?” You’re breathless, so overwhelmed with this need he’s instilled.

“You heard me,” is his reply.

As you count, he doesn’t remove his fingers from your clit and the pressure is overwhelming. You’ve never felt this desperate in your life.

His mouth comes down to your neck; gently, careful. “You skipped 84,” he informs you. “Start again.”

Tears prickle in your eyes as you throw your head back, hitting against his chest in frustration.

“Listen. You’re gonna work for this orgasm. You got me?”

Nodding slowly, you begin your count again.

And he starts playing with your clit again around the 190 mark, your body involuntarily bucking against him.

He tuts at you, huffing a laugh out.

“Again, kid? Jesus.”

His hand leaves you momentarily and you feel him stir behind you. Not daring to look, you close your eyes and take a breath now that his fingers are off your clit.

He’s lit a cigar and with a flick the lighter gets tossed across the room.

“Why aren’t you counting?” he says in his next exhale.

You nod, starting at one again while he puffs on his cigar and stirs slightly, shifting his still-hard cock just enough to make you antsy. The hot ashes sting as you continue your count and before you’re done, he’s got his fingers barely grazing your clit again. Soft breaths between numbers, you hold back a moan when he tenses inside of you. He waits, but you keep counting.

He’s clearly trying to break your concentration now that you’ve hit the 200 mark. The open-mouthed kisses against your neck, the sounds he’s making, his hand roaming over your body, the burn mark he leaves from his cigar…

“Two hundred forty,” it’s huffed and breathless, but you manage it.

Heisenberg lets out a laugh against your neck. “Wow. You’re quite determined, huh?”

Without warning, he slips out of you, kneels, pulls your legs toward him so they rest on his shoulders. Cigar in his mouth, he slides his hands underneath your ass and lifts your hips so he can glide his cock back inside you.

Heisenberg groans with his head thrown back as you buck up toward him. The cigar goes toppling down onto your belly, burning where it lands. The sensation makes you seethe at first.

“Leave it,” he demands, watching the pain fade to pleasure as he starts rutting into you.

You’re lost in the ecstasy, totally incapable of any thought other than hoping he lets you cum soon. There’s nothing in this place but him and you, nothing to distract or undermine. He’s all hands, all open-mouthed kisses and tongue trailing across skin. He’s taking you in this time, enjoying your body, not just trying to get off like last night.

Your climax is abrupt, surprising the both of you and leaving you clawing and gasping. As your walls clench around his cock, he moans out a string of words, but your ears are ringing so loud.

You’re barely catching your breath when he pulls your hair, takes the cigar off your skin, ashes it on the ground, inhales.

Smoke billows from out of his nostrils as he says, “ride my cock” and you feel your cunt clench him tighter.

Heisenberg lays back then, focuses on his cigar, really wants you to work for him as you slide down onto his shaft. It’s the first time he’s let you on top and, honestly, you’re focused on getting him off (even though the angle he’s hitting you at is perfect.)

You press your chest to his, kiss at his neck as you raise your hips, pulling him from you – barely the tip inside at this point. With the faintest movements, you shift your hips to tease his tip.

“Ohhh, you little minx. Think you’re cute, just the tip?” he hums a laugh.

You slink down his cock slowly, rutting him deep for a while, listening to his manly growls. He’s putting out the cigar on the wall behind him before he grips your hips and shoves you down harder with every movement.

“Fuck, Karl, I want you to cum…”

He smirks, “Yeah? Want me to paint you like one of my French girls?” he laughs at his own joke. “Or should I fill up this nice cunt?”

You whine. “Whatever you want, Heisenberg.”

“You’re mine, kitten. Don’t forget it.”

Without a second thought, you shift from your knees to a crouch over him, giving you better leverage to bounce on his cock. The unexpected change makes him cuss. The power behind every thrust sends shockwaves through you.

Ears ringing, you hold your breath until you notice a loud clanging around you. When you look around, you see all of the metal in the room is shaking. One glance at Heisenberg beneath you, you realize he’s staring, pupils blown wide, lips parted as he pants. The sounds coming from him are making you even wetter…

Fingers bruising you, he grabs a handful of your ass and forces you to move at his pace. Face smashed against his chest, you hear his moaning and breaths before feeling him shoot his load into you again.

The noise from the metal in the room stops as the pieces shoot in all directions, clanging to the walls. You hadn’t expected to dodge sawblades and gears as you’re getting fucked but here you are.

Heisenberg is a panting, sweaty mess under you. His lips cup around your ear, nibbling a bit as he hums your name – breathy, exhausted.

You don’t want to get off him, don’t want this to end, but the way you two have been going since you met, you know it’s only a matter of time before he’s ready again.

It’s all you’ve done since you arrived, really, and a part of you wonders if this whole plaything is a cover. Does he really want companionship? Or is it a farce?

When you flop down beside him, he keeps a hand gripping at your hip. Protective, maybe, but you take it as controlling. And it’s sort of a comfort to you in this place. Memories of the church and those siblings of his – the monstrous things he’s told you they’d do to you…

You lucked out, so you imagine.

Heisenberg’s eyelids are heavy, his breathing even as you both lay there. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s slept. You’re pretty sure even when you dozed off last night, he’d gone to tinker with something on his desk.

He still hasn’t told you what his plans are for you and it’s starting to make you believe he doesn’t have any. Other than this.

There’s a version of you in this daydream that wants to stay here, with him. You don’t want to feel the way you did before you came here.

“So, what’s life like – where you’re from?” he ghosts a caress over your lower abdomen, watching your body tense from the tickling sensation.

“Empty.”

He blinks over at you, just stares.

“You’re-you’re joking,” he waves it off. “Surely being out of a village like this, you’d have things to fill your time.”

You shrug. “My career’s caused a lot of issues in my personal life. I’ve…missed out on so much.”

“Oh, pity to you,” he rolls his eyes, still not getting up.

It’s probably a defense mechanism, probably a way to keep his mind from going deeper into that hurt. Though his words are harsh, his eyes take you in again, examine you, as if in a new light.

“So, what you’re saying is, this place is a vacation for you.”

“Given the current circumstances,” you look at your bodies draped together, “I’d say yes.”

“Huh,” he laughs. “Mother always said the pretty ones are fucked up.”

You don’t know if you should be flattered or offended.

“This’s been real fun, kitten, but Daddy’s got work to do.” He goes to sit up, swings his legs over the edge of the bed, finally lets go of your hip.

“And what should I do?”

He raises a brow. “Oh, you? I’m not letting you out of my sight. You think I trust you in this place by yourself? Probably make some grand escape. And we can’t have that, now can we?”

“You can trust me,” you insist.

He barks out a laugh. “You would say that.”

“Heisenberg, I told you: I want out of BSAA. If that’s something you’re holding against me-”

“You act as if I’ve put much thought into that,” he pulls his pants on, shoves his feet in his boots. “Playthings don’t need a backstory,” he speaks pointedly. “Now get dressed.”

He leaves the room.

He’s so difficult to read. One minute he’s asking about life outside of the village, the next he’s pushing you away.

The only clothes you have are your torn up pants, your boots, and one of his shirts. Tentatively, you get dressed and meander into the hallway.

“Step back,” his voice calls from down the hall.

Your body responds too slow and in seconds, a beast is running at you; its left arm a drill. It’s like your body is in slow motion – barely letting you register what’s happening – until Heisenberg uses his power to pull the metal maniac backward.

Metal pieces go flying everywhere – clearly, he’s broken something.

With the thing on the ground, you don’t know whether to approach Heisenberg or revert deeper into the bedroom.

“Get your ass over here.” Though his words are menacing, his voice is soft, almost exhausted.

Like a frightened animal, you slowly approach him, keeping as much distance between you and the metal thing as possible.

“Do you always break everything you touch?” he hums close to your ear.

You think he must like the look of you in his shirt because he’s thumbing over the material, nipping at the skin on your neck, his facial hair scratching against you in the most arousing way.

“I’m sorry, Karl.”

He groans, almost a laugh punctuating it. “You’re not,” he whispers. “But you will be.”

You should be scared, should be experiencing whiplash from the change in demeanor from two minutes ago in the bedroom. Instead, you’re clinging to his jacket, moaning at the sound of his gloved hand smacking your ass.

The creature moves, but he shifts his hand and the thing stays down as if magnetized to the floor.

You’re completely worked up again, noting his half-hard cock pressing against your hip as you stand in the hall with him.

“Bad kitty,” he whispers beside your ear. “You any good with a screwdriver?”

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you #heisenberg x reader #heisenberg x you #smut #fem!reader

[blackxkatt]

I need this out and I don’t know where else to put it because if I put it anywhere where people might see, I’m giving more ammunition to the idea that I’m just some monster or something, and I'm tired of having to hedge every bit of opening up about this with, "I know I fucked up, too". It's time for me to be able to tell my story without diminishing my own experiences.

I used to vent to the void on tumblr a lot so I figure this is a good place to do so. Writing out stuff like this is a good therapy technique, and I don’t hurt anyone this way. Okay here goes

My relationship with Becky was awful. In hindsight, I should have ended it so much sooner than I did, but I kept trying to force it because I wanted it to work. We were awful for each other. We made each other worse people. It needed to end.

I did everything I could thing of to make the break up smooth for her. I avoided Easter so that I wasn’t marring a holiday. I asked Tanner to cancel D&D for the day (little did I know, I was canceling that game forever) so that she’d have a week until we had to exist in the same space again, even virtually. I drove to her house, so she wouldn't have to deal with a drive before or after. I knew she had therapy the next day, so that she’d have time to process and professional help soon. I didn’t bring up anything either of us did and didn’t bring up any blame. I said we were just incompatible, because we were. I told her I understood if she didn’t want to be friends -- she said she did. I said if that changes, just let me know. I held her while she cried, walked her dog with her, and went home.

Over the next week, she began to escalate attacks towards me with no warning. On the morning of our D&D game, 2 hours before we had to coexist in front of our friends, she sent me a list of grievances during our relationship and demanded an apology for them, to help her healing. I wanted to be done with this, I had thought that the break up meant we could finally be done with it. I apologized regardless, because I knew I wasn’t perfect and had admitted when I’d fucked up before in the relationship, but not for all of it because some of it plainly wasn’t true. I asked if I could respond and ask for an apology for my own healing. She said no, she didn’t care, and that she wouldn’t let me make it all about myself.

She demanded Tanner message her practically every second of every day, elsewise she’d melt down that he was spending time with me instead of her, when we live together. She literally got pissed off that I visited his Animal Crossing island before her. Tanner couldn’t even mention me neutrally without her going on a tirade about how awful I am and how he shouldn’t defend me, let alone mention that I was hurt, too.

Eventually, she blocked me. I had spent the entire time keeping the door open and trying to maintain a friendship, both because I didn’t want to lose that, and for Tanner’s sake, and meanwhile she was nuking the bridge. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I couldn’t see myself being metamours with someone who so clearly and actively hated me.

Tanner, on advice from a counselor, sat us both down to talk about our abusive tendencies and how this was affecting him. The first thing she did was give me the most disgusted look when she walked in. She nodded vigorously during the entire bit where Tanner raised his issues with my behavior.

Almost all of what Tanner talked to me about were things we’d worked on in the past, that I’d been fine on, that I’d backslid on since dating Becky. Others we’d discussed before and he’d been fine with, but had changed since. The rest, he later apologized for, because he realized he was being abusive in those expectations and hadn’t been concerned with fairness at the time. Almost all of what he brought up wasn't new, because Tanner and I have checked in with each other and worked on our relationship for almost 7 years.

Meanwhile, Becky continued to be abusive to him, in the same ways she had been to me, amped up to 1000. And I had to sit and let it happen. I left my own house for hours at a time for them to have dates. I canceled or moved my own plans for her. I had a festering wound I was hoping would heal, because Becky continued to insist to me that we’d forgive each other some day, but I was the only one working towards it, while she cursed me at every opportunity.

This all culminated in her calling Tanner one day, during our date, to demand that he choose between us. To try to convince him to be monogamous with her. To tell him how awful I am and that she can’t believe he would choose me. To guilt him for daring to do so, even though she’d forced the choice.

I beat myself up, like I was the reason for the break up. But I wasn’t. Even if I wasn’t in the picture, she was abusive and had continued to be without pause. It was her own jealousy and refusal to heal that ended their relationship. I know that now. But it took awhile for my anger to set in. It did once I found out she messaged him more times after that to try to convince him, once again, to leave me, and once again getting upset with him when he wouldn’t.

I waited for a while before asking Tanner if he was alright with me cutting Becky out, since after those instances, I didn’t see our relationship being positive again, at least not for quite awhile, and I’d spent months swallowing my pain for the sake of their relationship and couldn’t do it anymore. That was when I found out, from him, that Becky had already cut me out with no intention to recover. She had remained in all of our group chats, so that was news to me. It was power I was not willing to let her hold over me any longer, pretending she was the bigger person for being silent in the chats but not leaving them. I won’t be made into a monster for defining and defending my boundaries for the first time since the break up. It was unfair of her to remain in every single chat when she’d made it clear she was cutting us, or at least me, out, forcing me to face that trigger every day, giving me almost to reprieve or space to vent about my own pain. I asked friends to remove her from those shared chats, and they did, and I refuse to be made into a villain for being the one to cut the last of the bridge she’d torched. The last one is the d&d game that wasn’t destroyed with our relationship, and it’s the last thorn in my wound keeping me from healing, but Tanner and I are both scared that group will fall apart, too, if she’s removed, due to reactions in another chat she was removed from. So, I have to continue to swallow that, for who knows how long.

Now that that story is out, I’m going to list what I can about my and Becky’s relationship -- her abuse, her gaslighting, making sense of it all and getting out what she never let me.

-A lot of our problems stemmed from the fact that I didn’t react how she wanted. She would be abusive or demanding, and instead of reacting like Tanner, who would submit for the sake of keeping the peace, I would push back, either calmly or not so calmly due to it triggering me. Both elicited negative responses. We triggered each other this way often.

-She was racist to me. She weaponized the exact racism I told her I had experienced from almost every white person I’d ever known, even my loved ones. She promised she never would and then did exactly it, armed with the knowledge of how to shut me down. She told me I *was* aggressive, actually, that she’d surveyed my friends and they all agreed that I was aggressive, and by insisting that I wasn’t, by defending myself, I was gaslighting her. Oh, and she only used the word aggressive because that was the word I’d used, not that she actually thought I was aggressive. Why did I think she thought I was aggressive? That was my own fault. I constantly made myself smaller for her, like I had for so many racist people in my life. I could no longer be all of me anymore.

-She insisted I was incapable of calm discussion (see the racism above), that I deserved her anger and brought it upon myself because it was the only way I listened. Never once in our relationship did she ever say, “can we talk about this?” or anything along those lines, which I would have responded to (and have in other relationships). It was always blowing up out of nowhere because I said the slight wrong thing or didn’t say the right thing or because she’d misunderstood me.

-On misunderstanding, she admitted that she constantly misread me and misunderstood my words due to her  past trauma and expectation of negativity. Once upon a time, she told me that if she took what I said in the most positive light, she understood me finally. Yet, later in our relationship, she started insisting that every misunderstanding was my fault, that all poor communication was on me, that I was an anomaly, that I somehow experienced less emotions than other people. When I would refuse any of these accusations or point out what I had actually said, she told me I lacked critical thinking or was gaslighting her.

-Tanner said something that made so many of our problems click: Becky didn’t want a relationship, she wanted codependence. Something she admitted she struggled with, something her family struggles with, and yet I never put it together. She wanted all of our attention, all of the time. Every triad date we had was centered on her. My healthy independence was a threat to her. She insisted I was lying if I didn’t have some deep issue to discuss with her every day. She insisted I was lying when I promised her I wasn’t hiding my life from her, that I just sincerely didn’t have any crisis or something to discuss. My refusal to enable any of her bad habits or abusive behaviors upset her. When we broke up, and she could no longer guarantee all emotional energy was given to her, she spiraled.

-Of many things we’d previously discussed and she said she understood, group chats take less energy for me to participate in, and I was always happy to interact with her in group chats if I couldn’t handle a 1 on 1 chat. Eventually, I was scared to interact in group chats, post online, show any presence that I wasn’t busy or asleep, because she would become upset with me for not messaging her individually.

-The biggest red flag I ignored, one that terrified me so much I told no one about it until I was considering the break up, was when she asked me to choose between herself and my best friend. When I told her I couldn’t do that and was uncomfortable that she’d even asked, she got upset, and I ended up comforting her instead of addressing it any further. And without even realizing it, I began to feel anxious and guilty whenever I interacted with Dan. I would fear even mentioning them to her, because it inevitably resulted in her jealousy. I began to interact with them less (notice a pattern? Interacting with my best friend less, interacting with my group chats less, interacting online in general less...)

-Every concern I brought up ended the same way: she’d say I was gaslighting her, or she’d get upset and I would have to comfort her.

-She was never polyamorous; this is obvious in hindsight. She was a monogamous person who happened to form a crush on two polyamorous people. She would consistently try to persuade me away from polyamory and into maintaining a closed triad, and would get upset with me when I expressed that wasn’t what I wanted. She’d often remind me that she’d be extremely jealous of anyone I ever dated and that they couldn’t be as important as her.

-She said she understood it would take Tanner and I time to feel as close to her as we do with each other. Yet, she was constantly jealous of us and became more and more angry as time went on. She seemed to expect a timescale of months to level out a 7 year relationship with a 7 month one, when it would have taken years.

-Along with codependence, she was looking for a therapist in her SOs. She would have a new breakdown to discuss daily, and a myriad of untreated phobias and illnesses. She’d consistently complain about her therapist; when I made suggestions to tell her therapists her concerns or get a new one, she’d brush it off or insist it wasn’t that bad. If Tanner or I didn’t enable her phobias, she’d get upset with us. We could neither make plans for just us two(though she hates being left out) nor bring her (she hates crowds and spontaneous plans). She’d say she’d come, we’d just have to deal with her crying the whole time. I’d express that we want her to have fun, not suffer, and she’d say she’d suffer either way. We were guilted out of most plans.

-Most of the end of our relationship, that finally made me realize we needed to break up, was a slow change that I’m not sure how it happened. At some point, Becky stopped seeing me; she only saw what fit her preconceived notions of me. She made assumptions about me, my thoughts, my character, who I was. She made up situations in her head and got angry at me for them out of nowhere, with no communication, and the one time she did listen that she'd made up the situation (because Tanner told her), she spiraled into self-hatred, not an apology. She twisted everything I said into some kind of attack against her and insisted every clarification, explanation, or evidence was an excuse. When I would point any of this out, that some of what she said was just plain untrue, she’d once again insist I was gaslighting her. I was trapped. She refused to see the changes I made for her, and was coming up with her own reality of our relationship. Nothing I did mattered anymore; even Tanner told me he saw it. He told me that I had done a lot of work but he didn’t see the same improvement on her end, and that she needed to meet me in the middle if we were going to work. But she only saw the monster she’d made me. I couldn’t continue to date someone who was so committed to misunderstanding me. This is why I only apologized for most of what she said in her list of grievances -- because some was simply untrue. I never lied to her, I never gave her half-apologies -- never in my life have I given anyone an “I’m sorry you feel that way” apology. I apologized for things that didn’t even merit apology. I regressed and backslid on so much healing I had done. She mentally sent me back to high school, convinced me I was who I was as a child, when that was completely untrue. So much of the relationship had become this perfect trap -- where it was damned if I do, damned if I don’t. I ended it because I couldn’t live like that anymore, and I wanted our friendship back. We were awful romantic partners, but such good friends. Not anymore, I guess.

-Every trauma I ever did confide in her, she eventually weaponized against me. She'd recreate every one, or bring them up to silence me. She'd use every moment of vulnerability to further convince me I was an inherently awful person and push me to back slide and regress into trauma I'd grown beyond. Any questioning was met with, yup, I'm gaslighting her or lack introspection.

-She said I never showed interest in her, and I still don't know where that came from. We'd talk about life goals, the world, our ideas. I told her I loved seeing her creative projects and that progress. I read her fan fiction and bragged about it. I don't know when she stopped seeing it, when she stopped seeing me. I introduced her to all of my friends, integrated her into all of my friend groups, because I thought I was building a future with her. But now I'm the villain because she wanted to hold my social life and the friends I'd introduced her to hostage.

-One comment that stuck with me was that she said we weren't even dating, just friends who kissed. She said it again in our last argument before we broke up. I literally didn't know what to do to prove to her that I cared about her, to make her believe me when I said she was my girlfriend. I even came out to my parents about her to try to prove it and it wasn't enough. I got to the point where I almost finally had sex with her just because she wanted it, just to see if that would finally be enough for her to believe me. I'm very glad I didn't.

-She was consistently passive aggressive. She would always say something was fine, then clearly be upset when I'd do it. I'd have to press for there to be any chance of her admitting she didn't like it. There were clear "correct" answers to all of her questions and suggestions, and whenever I refused to acquiesce, it would become an argument.

-Intentions don't matter and all that, but they do. They do, because that's shorthand. She'd constantly use that as a shield, telling me my intentions didn't matter, when at a certain point, she had to be responsible for refusing to hear me. And while intentions don't matter, I never intentionally hurt her, but she intentionally hurt me several times, almost never apologized for it, and in fact insisted to me that I deserved it and had brought it upon myself.

-And I defended her. I continued to defend her for so long, from so many people. I knew she had trauma, and I knew she was in an environment that wasn’t suited to her healing. I convinced myself that I just had to endure until post-pandemic, or until she moved out, or until she got medication she could take, or, or ,or-- and Dan gave me the wake up call that if I was walking on eggshells with her, the environment we were in would only change where I was walking on eggshells with her. Tanner gave me the wake up call that we aren’t even sure she *wants* to leave that house with her family, because of that toxic codependence.

-I’m still terrified of how quickly she turned on me. How quickly she made me a monster. Our break up didn’t have any villains; break ups don’t always need villains. But like a light switch flipping, she turned hatred upon me. She told me that she doesn’t feel empathy and only performs goodness because of a moral code she made for herself, but I never considered what it would be like if she designated me an enemy in that moral code.

Some of this I realized towards the end of our relationship. Some of this I realized after. I’ll add to this post whenever I need to as I parse out more, or remember what I’ve forgotten to add.

I’m not the monster she made me in her story. I’m not responsible for her version of me anymore. I won’t be made to feel guilty or like a villain for finally enforcing my boundaries. I’m still angry that I can’t be open about all of this without continuing to fall into this trap she’s made, of me being awful and hateful instead of abused and rightfully angry. But Tanner and I are the happiest we’ve been in a year. I deeply regret that relationship, but I’m so happy now that I’m out of it, even if it didn’t end how I’d hoped. And I think that says I made the right decision.

#blah blah

[missyart123]

Mine (Pathetic)

Trigger Warning: Attempted suicide, Suicidal Ideation, manipulation/gaslighting, and verbal abuse towards minors and suicide victims.

If you are suicidal or depressed, I advise you assess the risk of reading this. Dream's character is scornful of suicide and suicide victims in this and it may be triggering. I want you to know that you deserve to live. If you are feeling suicidal, please reach out to someone. There are always services that are there for you to talk to even if you don't have someone in your life that you feel comfortable talking to. Take care <3

Tommy turned.

Tears tracked down his face, cheeks red as he stared fearlessly into Dream’s eyes. From where he stood, Dream could see the slight smile that twitched at the corner of the teenager’s lips, mouth lifting even as his eyes stayed resolutely grey.

As he watched, Tommy lifted a hand to his forehead, a pale mimicry of his brother’s final moments. A childish imitation of a soldier’s courage.

“Goodbye, Dream.”

And even as he began to fall backwards, down and down into the fiery depths that beckoned from below, his smile never dropped.

---

How dare he? How dare he suggest that he had the right to take his life as though it were his own? As though it belonged to him? As though Dream didn’t own him: mind, body, and soul?

Dream snarled, stepping forward and yanking the child out of the air. How pitiful. Did he truly believe that he had control, when with a single hand Dream could end this whole display?

Dream could laugh if he wasn’t so angry.

He fisted his hand into the teen’s shirt, lifting him above his head as though he were nothing. With the other, he grabbed the boy’s face, forcing him to look into his eyes.

“Do you think you’re fucking funny?” His tone was icy, freezing the boy in his tracks. His screams and struggles instantly stopped, body going limp in his grip. “Answer me!”

The boy frantically shook his head, tears burning in his eyes as he tugged uselessly at Dream’s arms.

“Did you really think that you could kill yourself like that? That you had the right to disobey me like that?”

Tommy’s pleads fell on deaf ears.

Dropping the boy to the ground, he grabbed him by the hair, dragging him back towards the portal. His body crashed into the frame with a dull thud, Dream burning with malice.

Without hesitation, the blonde scrambled backwards, pressing himself against the obsidian as though it would hide him from view.

Gods, he could kill him if he didn’t need him alive. It would be so easy. Just one slash of his axe and his eternal headache would be gone.

How long would it take for people to even notice anyway? He could kick his body into the lava and no one would ever know. No one visited him anymore anyway, not after he’d fixed that. It would be months before anyone even noticed.

The thought tickled him for some reason, and he found himself laughing aloud, bent over as he wheezed on the thin cobble bridge. He wasn’t even sure what was making him laugh, but he couldn’t stop.

The boy stared at him with horror and, Gods, even that was funny. Dream honestly couldn’t stop. Every time he looked over at the child’s face a new fit hit him.

He was just so pathetic.

No one would care if he died. No one!

“You- you...you really thought that you could kill yourself?” Dream couldn’t breathe. He needed to get himself together. “You really thought that someone would care? That I’d care?” Dream thinks he might be crying, but just the tears pouring from the boys eyes had him cackling.

“You’re so pathetic!” Dream suddenly coughed, choking on his laugh.

The words continued to echo around them, even as he stopped talking, and he paused, listening to them. Come to think of it, that wasn’t very funny, was it?

He turned, staring the boy dead in the eyes. “You’re pathetic.”

The boy couldn’t even move. He stared up at the older man as though he were a monster, curled up as though he were prey.

This was the boy that thought he could get a one up one him? This was the boy that he couldn’t get to listen to him? This was him?

Dream unsheathed his axe, stalking towards the boy with a steady gait. Tommy whimpered, eyes trained on his hands.

“I want you to listen to me, Tommy, and listen closely. There are worse things than death.” He knelt down so that he was eye to eye with the boy, voice low. “Unless you start listening, I will be forced to make you.”

Tommy’s eyes focused passed him and he knew they had landed on the lava.

Dream leaned close, mouth by his ear. “Make a run for it again and I’ll make sure you can’t walk.” Tommy nodded slowly, eyes filling with tears, and the masked man smiled.

So that’s what it was. He wasn’t undermining him; he was scared. He was trying to escape.

Coward.

Something within him settled at that, the righteous fury that had burned through him before reduced to a simmer.

He’d thought he had been challenging him, but it was just a miserable attempt at fleeing.

Dream reached up, threading a hand through the boy’s hair. Tears ran faster down Tommy’s face, even as he collapsed into his hands. “It’s okay, Tommy. If you listen it will all be okay.”

A soft hiccough sounded out and he pulled the boy into his arms, feeling tears sink into his jumper. “It’s okay, Tommy. I’ve got you.”

He grinned into his hair.

“You’re mine.”

#dream #dream smp #dreamwastaken #dream smp dream fanfic #dream smp dream #dsmp dream #dsmp fanfic #tommyinnit #mcyt tommyinnit #dream smp tommy #tommyinnit fanfic #dream smp tommy fanfic #dsmp tommy #mcyt dream #mcyt #mcyt fanfic #dream smp fanfic #tw attempted suicide #tw suicide #tw manipulation #tw gaslighting #tw abuse #tw verbal abuse #tw suicidal thoughts #sbi as family #dream smp exile arc #dream smp exile

[thewhumperinwhite]

All Those That Dance: Intro (3)

Final part of the intro :)

Previous: Part 1 // Part 2

TW for: mild body horror (dressing infected wounds); skin/scar picking; implied past whump of a minor; aftermath of starvation. Whumpee feels guilty for needing help. Also some mild gaslighting, by whumpee to caretaker.

Also Jasper thinks Will looks about 17 but he’s actually 19 so i’m not tagging this minor whump. he is a teenager, though.

@whumpitywhumpwhump @favwhumpstuff

----

By the time the boy scrambled up out of Jasper’s bedroll, hair and eyes wild and almost taking the ratty old traveler’s tent up with him, the sun was already halfway up, and the small fire Jasper had lit was mostly embers.

The boy stared at Jasper, out of breath, and positively swimming in the tunic Jasper had lent him. He hadn’t packed with dressing skinny teenagers in mind; the rough green wool hung down to the boy’s knees and the collar showed all of his sharp jutting collarbones and most of his narrow chest. His eyes were wide and the color the sky would be above the Wastes at noon, and his face was sharp and angular, probably by nature and more so by starvation. There was a long sharp scar from his left brow to the corner of his mouth, to match the stab wound in his stomach.

“My sword,” was the first thing the boy said, voice cracked from thirst and probably also fever.

Jasper blinked up at him. He had pulled the boy’s sword belt off in the process of bandaging his gut-wound, because the old cloth wrapped over the wound had clearly not been changed in far, far too long. It had been many years since Jasper had had to look at a wound like that, and in the old days they’d never have let one go so bad; Silex would have had kittens. Jasper had peeled the remains of the boy’s white shirt off as soon as he’d carried him to a decent campsite, and then when he had to take breaks from the awful business of peeling bandages out of half-healed muscle to recharge his magic and settle his stomach, he’d set up the tent and made the fire. The shirt hadn’t been worth saving, so torn and stained with blood and sweat he couldn’t even tell what it’d been made of; the boy’s trousers honestly weren’t all that much better, the legs tatters from the knees down, but Jasper would have wanted to wake up in his own pants if their positions had been reversed, so he’d left them. The only other thing the boy had been carrying was the sword itself, and the belt for it, which was bloodstained but clearly good leather and had held alright, so Jasper had set it aside and gone back to the business of saving the boy’s life.

He hadn’t purposefully confiscated the sword, in other words; it hadn’t even occurred to him that the boy shouldn’t have it. It was a preposterous looking thing, anyway, the hilt all silver curlicues and blown glass of all things; he’d barely registered it as a weapon, but hearing the boy ask for it with such breathless urgency was a bit on the worrying side.

That said, the boy seemed to be standing upright only through a serious effort of will, so he probably wasn’t going to do a lot of fencing at the moment. Jasper pointed wordlessly to the left of the boy’s feet, where he’d piled his own pack and staff beside the tent; the glass ball at the end of the longsword hilt glinted redly under the desert sunrise.

The boy looked down, saw the sword, and sagged in relief so completely that his knees simply folded underneath him and he fell into a sitting position beside Jasper with a small thump.

“‘Morning to you too,” Jasper said, amused.

“Sorry,” the boy croaked, scrubbing a hand over his forehead, and then, “Thank you.”

Jasper waved that away. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “I’ve not done as much for that wound as I’d’ve liked, boy. I’m no Healer.”

The boy blinked at him, and then looked down at himself, and lifted the hem of the borrowed tunic out of the way to examine the wound. It probably hadn’t been large, at first; the center looked like a single stab from a short-bladed weapon, deep but not wide, and it might have even been partially healed by someone with more skill than Jasper when it was new. But running was bad for gut wounds—for most wounds, really—and the edges were raw and angry with infection; it had taken most of the bandages in Jasper’s pack to cover it, and the boy had to expose an uncomfortable number of sharply-visible ribs to see all of Jasper’s handiwork. The boy frowned down at the fresh bandages and then up at Jasper, looking uncomfortable. He could probably have been handsome if he’d ever eaten before, and although he didn’t look older than seventeen there was an old break in the bridge of his nose, on top of everything else; crooked like any break that had gone too long without healing or re-setting, but clearly not new and raw like the cuts in his face and stomach. Jasper hoped he hadn’t been too young when it had happened.

The boy fingered the wool of the tunic awkwardly, and opened his mouth, his expression clearly suggesting a repeat of both “thank you” and “sorry,” but Jasper held up a hand to stop him.

“I mean it, don’t thank me yet,” Jasper said, and took a deep breath. It was best to get this part over quick, like pulling off a bandage that didn’t require peeling. “I couldn’t find your friend, boy,” he said roughly, looking into the fire instead of the boy’s face, since he’d always been a coward.

“My what?” the boy said, voice still scratchy but otherwise nothing but bewildered. Jasper looked back up at him, startled.

“The girl,” he said. Nothing but confusion on the boy’s face. “The girl who was with you in the woods. I heard her voice, before I saw you, but I searched that little grove for damn near an hour, and I didn’t find any sign of her. I didn’t find much blood that wasn’t yours, either, though, for whatever that’s worth.” He stared at the boy, who only looked more lost. “You have no idea what I’m talking about,” he said slowly.

The boy shook his head helplessly. “Sorry.”

Jasper shook his head, reaching into his pocket for his pipe. “That’s—damn queer,” he muttered, filling the end with tobacco from the pouch in a different pocket of his cloak. He’d thought it was strange not to find—any evidence of a whole human being eaten by wolves, if that was what had happened; and he didn’t see how anyone could have run away fast enough to leave no sign they’d even been there, but— “I was sure I heard a girl’s voice,” he said around the end of his pipe.

“What did she say?” the boy rasped, curiously. 

“Govnoyed,” Jasper said, and snorted at the boy’s startled blink. “I know. Foul-mouthed little thing.”

“You speak Crythian?” the boy said, and then winced, like he wished he could take it back.

“Not as well as you do, I imagine,” Jasper said, amused. “There wasn’t much point in pretending to be a native,” he pointed out. “You’re probably the only blonde in a hundred-mile radius.” The boy’s hair looked like it was cut unevenly even without a night of hard sleep in a strange tent, and Jasper couldn’t guess when it was last washed, but underneath the grime and a certain amount of blood it was the color of pale gold.

The boy looked away, flushing unevenly underneath the spots of red fever had already put on his pale cheeks. “I--wasn’t,” he said softly. “I only—" He cleared his throat, scrubbing a hand over his mouth as though it hurt to talk. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Jasper said, laughing, and then he leaned forward toward where his pack was sitting, on the boy’s opposite side. “I hardly think—" 

When Jasper’s hand came within a few inches of the boy’s knee on its way past, the boy went immediately white to the lips and hunched in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Jasper stopped, raising his eyebrows.

The boy’s eyes opened immediately and he looked at Jasper, color rushing back into his cheeks too fast, apparently mortified.

“Sorry,” he muttered, visibly forcing himself to relax and looking down at his hands, tight on the torn fabric of his trouser legs. “Sorry.”

“I was reaching for my pack,” Jasper said slowly, and the boy nodded eagerly, still very much not looking at Jasper. Jasper shook his head, feeling a confused smile start on his face; if he didn’t find this funny it was going to be tragic, and Jasper always preferred funny. “I thought maybe I’d offer you some food.”

The boy did look at Jasper then, shaking his head in apparent alarm. “I can’t take your food,” he croaked desperately. “I’ve already—" He looked down at the borrowed tunic, and to Jasper’s mild horror, began to tug it off over his head. “I can’t take your things, I don’t want them—"

“Woah, stop,” Jasper said quickly, raising his hands in surrender; the boy froze at the order, the tunic already halfway off. Jasper could see too much of his hip bones and ribs, it was making him feel slightly ill. “Cross-God,” he said, “put it back on. Please.”

The boy did, rather reluctantly. “I don’t want to put you out,” he said faintly; he looked rather worse for wear for the sudden movement. Jasper felt rather out of breath himself, just watching.

“Boy,” he said finally, “who are you?”

The boy blinked at him, as though startled by the question. “Oh,” he said quietly. “I’m--Willem Price. Will, I suppose. If you like.”

Jasper laughed a little, helplessly. “Well, lovely to meet you, Will Price, but I’m not sure that’s really what I was asking.” He shook his head at the boy, who was still looking at him with wide eyes; they were really an almost shocking color. “What the hell are you doing in the Waste-Lands, kid?”

Will Price looked at him, and blinked his wide blue eyes slowly, and then, very carefully, shrugged.

Jasper stared at him.

“Uh-huh,” he said slowly. “And—where were you planning to go from here?”

The boy looked away, reaching up to scratch at the scar on his face with one finger, and shrugged again.

“Uh-huh,” Jasper said, frowning. The boy kept his eyes firmly off to the left, across the Wastes, tugging slightly at his scar and not looking at Jasper. “Fine. Here.” He took advantage of the boy’s studiously averted eyes to reach past him and grab his pack—the boy kept his flinch to a minimum, though Jasper could see his muscles tense—and tossed a small packet of traveller’s bread in the boy’s direction; the boy just barely caught it before it landed in the dust, presumably because he was still feverish. “Eat that, and then get some more sleep, if you can. I’d as soon not carry you to Atychia Town if I don’t have to.”

The boy turned sharply to look at him, alarmed. “I don’t want—"

“Shut up,” Jasper said firmly. “I am taking you into Atychia, because you are a child, and I am not a monster.” The boy opened his mouth to protest, but Jasper pushed on before he had the chance. “The choice that you have is whether you walk, or I carry you.” Honestly, the chances that the boy would be able to walk before his wound or fever would need attention Jasper couldn’t give it were practically nonexistent, but Jasper raised his eyebrows and said in mock offense, “Are you going to make me carry you?”

#fantasy whump #original whump #all those that dance #feverish #infected wounds #whumpee and caretaker #starved #skin picking #scars #gaslighting tw #wound care

[regardingseas]

Ttile: Echoed Vexations (Part One, part two linked)

Fandom: Hermitcraft

Rating: Teen and up audiences (violence warning)

AO3: here! (Full story at once)

•••

Plot Summary:

It's all too easy to turn a blind eye to the past-- to believe that because someone has been shielded from harm's way, they should no longer fear the wrath of their opponent's creed. They're safe now, after all, so why would they..?

Yes, Scar and Cub are certainly "safe", but they're still haunted by memories of the Vex and their deals all the same.

OR

An average afternoon during the HCB Base Swap is cut short when Mumbo accidentally digs up a remnant from Scar's Vex partnership days, and unfortunately for the town's mayor, the other Hermit is far from aware just how triggering the topic can truly be. Things only dissolve from there, and in the end, Grian lends a helping hand to console a friend.

•••

Additional Content Warnings:

Depictions of trauma disorders, panic attacks, flashbacks, paranoid thoughts/delusions, manipulation, gaslighting, threats, injury, and violence. Mentions of religious themes, unintentional self-harm, and non-permanent character death.

Do be careful, but otherwise, enjoy!

•••

The sun was still high in the sky even as Scar finished decorating the monument's support chains, sweltering rays beaming down and adding to the oppressive humidity of the jungle around him. With his usual jacket set aside to fight the heat, he wiped away the beads of sweat that had gathered on his forehead and grabbed a stray bucket from the sidelines. He'd nearly finished the waterfall aspect of the design-- crystal blue streams cascading over the edges of four white spanners, all joining together in the octagonal pool at the base's foundation. It was looking quite spectacular, if he were to say so himself, with the vine-coiled braces and additional water currents tying the otherwise juxtaposing themes together nicely.

Scar scooped up a fresh pail of water, filling it to the brim and hauling it towards the last pillar. He glanced down at the container as he carried it, catching a glimpse of his reflection from the liquid inside. His face shone red with effort, misplaced strands of hair having clung themselves to his tan skin.

Though unsurprised, he still couldn't help but laugh at the rippling image. "It's just my luck I'd swap with another jungle dwelling Hermit. I swear, I can never escape this climate for long. First the island last year, then all this."

With a shake of his head he returned his gaze upwards, continuing to muse aloud to the landscape before him, "You tropics are wonderful and all, but it sure would've been a nice change of pace to set up camp in somewhere like the mountains. Or pull total 180 and have landed in the tundras!"

Concepts for each design raced through his head, each idea fighting the others for dominance and tacking details onto itself, trying to land its place on the metaphorical pedestal of his imagination. A cottage with medieval influences? No, that would be far too typical, amp both of those components up. An entire village with a steampunk driven aesthetic, built into the mountainscape itself; no doubt with custom terraforming to integrate the buildings into the natural environment. That was more like it.

Scar could envision working windmills and waterwheels accompanying purposefully makeshift farmlands, historic blimps having reclaimed skies where they'd soar high overhead. Below them, eye-catching pops of colour, shining through as floating lanterns that hover above connective rope bridges.

As for the arctic concept? Something more grand would be ideal. In his fantasy, he'd created an absolute oxymoron of the words cabin and mansion jumbled together, and he adored it that way. A bottom floor made of bricked stone, the top made of logs and large windows to oversee the view. Accompanying them in the same manner would be a balcony, propped on columns that hugged the building and curved around its corners. The top deck would be open for clear days, and the space below it safe on harsher ones. Sloped roofs would be adorned with chimneys, and the interior warmed by cozy flames that were kept organized with inviting lofts. The living area could be split leveled, sinking down to create its own margin where guests could comfortably gather by the fireplace and--

There was a tug at his ankle, and next thing he knew, a bemused Scar went crashing to the ground, having been too caught up to notice the trailing plants blocking his footway. His hands shot out to catch himself, palms scraping against the concrete floor in a way similar to the childhood stunt of crashing and burning on the pavement. A stinging snapped up his arms, and the water bucket dropped from his grasp, clattering down with a metallic rumble before spilling its contents across the floor.

Scar pushed himself upright with a hiss of air through his teeth, shaking off his grazed palms and wiping them on his jeans. Pulling his foot free from the greenery and gathering himself up was no problem, what was a problem, however, was the troubling sight now before him.

The water had spilled all over one of Mumbo's redstone contraptions, causing the device to short circuit and emit a sort of maroon-grey smoke. The wires fashioned from the compacted dust had been all but washed away, any remaining pieces hanging on by threads and failing miserably whenever a signal attempted to fire; more so sizzling rather than surging alight with energy.

"Oh, crud!" he shouted, racing towards the machine and yanking on the shut-off switch to divert any further input from the broken setup.

It powered down, but Scar was still left swatting the coloured smoke from his face, coughing as the scent of burnt metallics filled his nostrils. When had he gotten so absorbed in possible building opportunities that he'd managed to miss the foliage in front of him? Why had he even been wondering so deeply about it, anyway? This event was about improving one another's bases by adding their own personal touches, not starting a new project entirely.

Scar sighed, he wasn't sure why his mind had begun drifting so far. He'd like to blame it on the wild imagination of a builder, but he had a feeling there was a little more to it. Sometimes, when the world wasn't too much to handle, it was too easy to let fall away. Maybe he spent too much time daydreaming-- he was sure there was a word for that, when trances became so all encompassing, so engrossing.

"But I don't have time to think about that right now," he reminded himself, "I really need to fix this. It doesn't look like most of this redstone is salvageable, I'll have to get new supplies to repair it. Maybe some of the circuits are okay..?"

Scar nudged a repeater with his shoe, the device making an unnatural sloshing noise in his attempt to change the feed-in. He scrunched up his nose, "Okay, nope, gonna need to replace that, too."

Running a hand through his hair in defeat, he glanced towards Mumbo's storage system before shaking his head. It wouldn't be right to use the other man's supplies without asking, let alone waste them on a mistake made due to Scar's own carelessness. He'd have to make his way back to his original base and gather the materials from there once more. When he dropped by initially, he figured he'd gotten everything he needed, but apparently hadn't accounted for dissociation-induced redstone mishaps.

"I guess we're making a trip back," Scar announced to no one, finally picking up the empty bucket to set it safely aside. He made his way over to his tent, temporarily discarding any excess materials and bidding adieu to Jellie before grabbing his elytra and setting off.

Taking to the skies, Scar squinted against the wind as it roared in his ears. His hair parted itself from where it had stuck, short locks brushed back by the flowing breeze. With arms extended for balance, and maybe a dash of amusement, he lit his rockets and propelled himself into the distance.

-----

It wasn't long before he encroached on his base again, allowing his faux wings to glide him downward where he kicked out his legs to come to a soft landing. Scar stopped before the massive drill site just on the outskirts of the forest, heading towards the agglomeration of crates and boxes he had haphazardly stowed aside. He was certain there had to be the necessary hardware in one of the many containers, though which that may be was lost on him. At least, thanks to Mumbo and his new storage system, the chest monster he'd created would soon be a thing of the past.

"I wonder how that's going for him..." Scar pondered, striding over to a random shulker and beginning his sure-to-be protracted search.

"Scar?" a familiar voice interrupted, making him peer ahead to see the moustached man himself rounding the corner. "Hello there! I see you've made yourself rather at home at my base," Mumbo teased.

He couldn't help but chuckle, "That I have. I just needed to stop by and pick up some redstone and iron. With all the ore this place has quarried up, I was sure there's bound to be more of that here than back at Larry."

Mumbo faked surprise with a hearty grin, "Getting into mechanics, are we? Have the inner workings of the temple really had that much influence on you after only a few days?"

"Now I wouldn't say that," Scar shook his head and closed the lid of the grey shulker, seeing no point in hiding the truth. "I took a tumble holding a bucket of water and it kinda spilled on one of the contraptions. I'm sorry for the trouble-- but don't worry! I came here to fix it right up. I just didn't wanna waste your materials fixing my silly error."

The suited man waved his hand dismissively, "Nonsense, it's no trouble. Have you seen the improvements you've made to that place? I mean, of course you've seen them, you built them, but rhetorically speaking--" Mumbo cleared his throat, "Just don't fret over it, I trust that you'll have it fixed right up in no time."

Scar smiled, "Thanks, dude. Now I just have to find where on Earth I put those ore…"

Mumbo gave another laugh, "You know, you can feel free to use some of my things if need be. I have no idea how you expect to find anything in this mess. I'm only trying to do a basic look through so I know where to begin when it comes to the item sorter, but even that doesn't seem to do much good. I swear, it's like trying to play a very intense game of memory, with thousands of nonsensical cards all scattered about."

Scar snickered sheepishly at the comparison, "Yeah, no kidding. But being able to use some resources without flying all the way over here would be great. Thanks again, Mumbo. I don't know if there's anything you'll need here while working, but hey, consider it free range. We're doing these things for each other in the long run, anyway."

"I'd say, 'unless we don't switch back our deeds', but in all honesty? I'm beginning to miss the ol' living monument already."

The two exchange a chuckle before returning to their previous tasks, both going back to digging through the pile of chests in preparation for their projects.

It took longer than Scar wanted to admit to finally find the crate stocked with valuables-- sighing in relief at the sight and immediately beginning to pile the items into his inventory. There were pre-smelted metals from an iron farm, so he didn't have to bother with the ore, and the redstone he'd gathered was already in dust from, meaning all he'd have to do was craft the items after returning.

"I wonder if it would've been easier to stop by the shopping district and buy these directly, instead of making them by hand..." he said, "Oh well, saves on diamonds, and these had to be used some time, I guess."

"Talking to yourself over there?" Mumbo asked.

"Just thinking aloud is all."

"I see," the moustached man nodded, pushing himself up from where he'd been examining the supplies. "I found something neat from last year! Do you wanna see?"

"Sure!" Scar agreed, setting aside his intent of flying back in favour of seeing what it was Mumbo had to show him.

He smiled and stepped over to Scar, holding out a faded piece of paper for them both to see, "I found it stuck to the bottom of a shulker box! Can you believe we used to be competition so recently?" He joked.

Scar could only stare at the advert before him, a steele blue page embellished with a vault-like ring in the center. It meant nothing to the untrained eye, but to him, all of the company's horrors were sealed underneath. ConCorp read bold text in half-connected lettering, the logo finalizing its signature with a black bow tie adorning the bottom.

"Hardly," managed Scar, having just remembered he'd been asked a question, "But it wasn't that recent."

"It was practically yesterday if we're talking business," Mumbo snickered, "but we aren't. I'm not very good at business."

"Me neither, I prefer mayorship," he said in an attempt to change the subject.

Mumbo, however, didn't seem to notice, only turning to stare at Scar with eyes wide. "Are you kidding me? You were quite literally the richest Hermit of all last year! You're wonderful at business. Sahara was amazing, and I don't for a second doubt it was the most ambitious project of our group to date, but she had plenty of bugs, being the machine powered industry that she was. ConCorp, however? That was an utter monopoly! The thing lasted two bloody seasons!"

Scar chuckled awkwardly, "I know, I know, Cub and I worked very hard. But it wasn't all us, we couldn't have done it alone."

"Give yourself more credit," Mumbo insisted, "I'm more than convinced you could have gotten your business up and running even without the help of your Vex friends. Weren't they less prominent in your company last year, anyway? You did change your guy's name from ConVex to ConCorp, after all. I think that would imply less input on their part."

"Not really," he explained, though the tension building in his body was becoming harder to conceal. He had to keep his arms rigid so that they wouldn't shake, forcing in deep breaths to avoid the shaky ones that threatened to take their place. "We just thought it would be better for business, rebranding to something more gentlemanly and all."

Mumbo nodded, "Ah, that makes sense. Though I still don't understand how you managed to work with them to begin with. I likely wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes. I mean business partners with the Vex? Friends, even? How'd you do it? Not to mention why? With all due respect, what makes one seek that out?"

Scar blinked hard at the influx of questions, "Oh, it's- it's really complicated, you might not understand. Cub started it, though. I joined the team not long after, but I wasn't there when he first struck the deal with Them."

"Huh, some deal," Mumbo remarked thoughtfully, and Scar nodded.

He had no idea.

"So what made you leave that behind?" Mumbo continued.

"What?" he asked, finding his thoughts hazy. They were static nothingness, but somehow also crashing into his skull. He found himself having to dig his way through them, while at the same time trying to bury them once he passed. The last thing Scar wanted was to do was hark back to the Vex, to beckon forth Their memory with his own.

The other man simply chuckled, oblivious to Scar's inner turmoil. "ConCorp, the Vex. Did you two just get bored? Having done the same thing for too long?"

"In a sense, you could definitely say we were tired of it. It just- well, it wasn't what we wanted to do anymore. We wanted to move on to new things."

"That's fair enough. Do you blokes still get along? Or did they take the corporation's end like a sour breakup?"

This time, Scar couldn't contain his wince. "We're still friends!" he insisted, "Of course the Vex are my friends."

Mumbo finally quirked a brow, "Are you sure about that? You don't have to worry about hiding some burnt corporal bridges from me, I'm not here to judge."

"Oh yeah, I'm positive," he nodded eagerly, "I'm just- I'm gonna go work on fixing that contraption I damaged, best to get it fixed before we have to switch back."

"Buddy, are you sure everything's alright? I'm sorry if I upset you or anything."

"Nah, I'm just peachy!" Scar announced with far too much false enthusiasm, internally cringing at his failed masking abilities. Not allowing any more time for his ruse to be cracked, he uttered a quick goodbye before adjusting the straps on his elytra and dashing off, leaping into the air and back towards the ruins.

"Scar, wait!" Mumbo tried, but he was already gone.

------

The returning flight was far from the peaceful journey he'd made to the excitation site. His artificial wings beat frantically, struggling to keep up as he charged forward with excessive firepower. He paid no mind to the safety protocol regarding the rocket's cool-down period, simply heralding through the air as fast as his elytra would carry him. Scar arrived back to the monument in a trip overall much faster than when he'd left, but it seemed to drag on for an eternity. The entire excursion consisted of a battle with his own mind-- a war in which he knew he was bound to lose, but he had to hold down the fort until he was on solid ground.

Scar was lucky not to crash into the debris upon landing, frantically stumbling to the dirt and having to grasp onto a piece of wreckage to maintain his balance. His legs nearly buckled under his weight, form trembling in spite of the deep breaths he gave it his all to draw in.

He grasped hard to the rubble, trying to anchor his brain into focus. He couldn't let his thoughts spiral, he couldn't think about Them. He knew grounding techniques, and he tried to rush his way through them.

Five things you can see.

He could see the golden heart, plants, stone, the golden heart again-- the thing was too anatomically correct, he'd seen horrors too similar to it before. And the sound, it was too damn loud, too hard to ignore. Its unsteady rhythm hammering in his ears alongside his own faltering pulse.

Forget visuals, four different noises?

Scar squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to listen, focusing hard on the world around him. Still, he could only hear the heart. He could only hear it pounding, its once melodic notes like nails on a chalkboard. He could remember far too many times when he was left alone with nothing but his heartbeat and his pleas.

Tactile. Texture. What can you feel? Three things you can feel.

Internally, he screamed at his dulling senses to return. God, he didn't want to think about Them, it wasn't worth the risk. They'd been inside his head before, and the mere idea of having his thoughts broadcasted again made his stomach churn. Scar tried harder and harder to suppress the images bubbling to the surface, festering like maggots in an old wound. The more he tried to push them down, however, the fiercer they'd rise back up, and he choked down a sob in attempt to list the sensations he could currently identify.

He could feel the stone-- but he already said the stone, didn't he? He could also feel the sun. It was hot against his back. So hot. He was overheating.

The notes should have been a success, but the drops of sweat felt too akin to tricking blood. The sting of his hands felt too much like the friction burn of a rope. It felt too much like he was back with the Vex again, and as he finally sunk to the soil, he could no longer swim against the onslaught of memories crashing over him like a tidal wave.

They could still hear him, They could still hear him, They could still hear him, They could still get him--

------

The day he and Cub first found the courage to try and cut ties with the Vex had been a hellish one, and the two men weren't even successful in their attempt. Hence, of course, it being the first.

Still, it had taken ages for Scar to persuade Cub that it was even worth trying, the other man having believed it was impossible to sneak anything past the Vex on their own. Scar was persistent, however, and eventually convinced his friend they had a shot if they played their cards right, if they made the right proposal without their intentions being discovered.

They'd constructed their plans in secret for weeks; discussing them only inside of untold locations with hushed whispers, or in the form of coded scrawls they'd burn immediately after reading. They couldn't be too careful, that's what they'd tell themselves whenever they worried their precautionary measures may be over the top. Even so, when a so-called conference was put on the schedule --such events were far from any type of cordial meeting, despite having been assigned the title of one-- the men were hardly prepared for it.

Their conference room consisted of a needlessly grandiose suite, with floors of marble and walls carved from deep umber wood. The polished lumber was adorned with expensive paintings in aureate frames; antique laden shelves taking up the spaces they did not. Aesthetically pleasing decorative tactics were discarded in favour of showing off their riches in a possessive cluster, with the only average items being the table and its chairs sat in the dead center of the area. A chandelier of gemstone and gold swung from above, dangling by the same chains fated to one day bind their vassals.

"Concordats, greetings!" A Vex declared as the men were led through the doorway, hovering in the air at the opposing end of the surface.

"Greetings," parroted Cub minimally, Scar giving a plain nod beside him. Fewer words meant less chance at letting their guard down.

"We've been needing to speak with you," a different Vex chimed.

"Speak with you about the business," yet another visitant confirmed.

"We actually need to discuss similar matters with you all," Scar noted, voice and expression a façade of tranquility.

"You do?" the first asked, wide smile replaced with inquiry.

"Yes," managed Cub, "we want to make you an offer, one you can't refuse."

"I do like the sound of that!" the second snickered.

"We'll hear your offer," the Vex grinned, "we only have one question first!"

"Of course, what is it?" asked Scar, in mental awe of how well their exchange was going.

"Do you recognize these?" it asked, gesturing towards the white table where a blue light flashed, fading away to reveal a small pile of ash.

Cub and Scar glanced to one another in evident confusion, the latter of the two speaking once again, "Forgive me, but we're not sure what you're talking about."

"Oh, silly me!" the Vex giggled, another flash of luminesce encompassing the soot and leaving a stack of papers in its place. As if caught in a controlled gust, they blew from the surface and organized themselves midair; levitating in a cloud of magic.

All of their once burnt notes were lined up before them, cyphers needed to crack their messages included.

Still beaming with innocence, it continued, "How about now? Look familiar?"

The blood drained from their faces, and Scar could have sworn his heart was going to burst from his chest with how hard it was drumming. He wanted to wake up, because this had to be a nightmare.

"No, we have no idea what those are," he tried.

LAIR!

Overlapping voices screamed in his head, all sounding in haunting unison. Scar hastily clapped his hands over his ears, but it did nothing to silence the uproar emanating from within.

You try to break our contract then lie to our faces?

Foolish concordats.

Terrible secret keepers, terrible subjects.

Cub seized hold of Scar's arm and made a break for the door with the brunet in tow, reaching the exit and tugging desperately on the handles. They refused to turn under his grasp, and his eyes darted back towards the Vex; floating creatures growing ever closer to their imaginary bubble providing them with the illusion of safety.

More of Them were phasing in through walls, forms non-corporeal and having no need for the sealed entryway.

Apologize.

They all ordered, Scar flinching at the simultaneous projection. He lowered his hands and turned towards Them, watching Their unmoving grins with wide eyes.

Kneel before your gods and divulge your prayers, we may just show you mercy.

"I'm sorry-" Scar whimpered, but Cub was having none of it.

"No!" the man barked, "Screw this! This isn't worth it! None of this is worth it! He's right! The business, the money, the power, it-- it means nothing! Not when you treat us like this!"

They watched him step forward, his furious yells echoing through the expanse of the room, "We're done! And we mean it! You're going to get us go or else!"

An orchestra of shrill cackles filled the air.

Oooh, it's angry.

They're fighting back!

Teach them a lesson.

"You won't dare make another-" Cub's retaliation was cut short with a cry, the bearded man dropping to the ground in a swift crash.

"Cub!" Scar called, but his attempt to step towards his friend was met only with a searing pain through his legs and the subsequent buckling of his knees. He fell to the marble, limbs heavy as if they'd been weighted. It took considerable force to balance on his arms, appendages left shaking as he peered back up towards the Vex.

He regretted it instantly.

•••

(Part two)

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #goodtimeswithscar #grian #mumbo jumbo #mcyt #the vex #cubfan135

[caughtinkorea]

Chasing Pavements(Excerpts of 2019)

Korea drained me.

It took me on an emotional roller-coaster I never want to experience again. I promised myself I’d never purposely try to put myself through that again. I came back a moody mess trying to pick up the bitter pieces of shoulda, coulda, woulda... but ultimately glad it didn’t.

When I came back I didn’t really have time to chill. I was just thrust into the next thing. I immediately jumped into preparing for my brother’s wedding. Everything and everyone around me kept me occupied. There was no time to focus on the mess of the past. I was leaving the memories of Korea behind. The good, the bad, and the ugly. In the end it all became so ugly.... except one part. Bond, James Bond.

Bond was the sweet guy that showed up out of nowhere when I was just about to leave. Story of my life *rolls eyes*. Curious things started happening at the time that I met him that made me a bit paranoid. I still don’t know exactly what to make of him or how he fit into my life. If I could tell you the full story you would understand why I said my life is a sitcom/drama.

So when I left Korea I guess you could say that was our official parting ways. At least I thought. After the wedding I had made plans to visit New York to see some friends. While talking with Bond one day we found out we’d coincidentally be in NYC at the same time. It seemed fate was bringing us together again. What were the chances that he’d be on my side of the world, in the same area, at the same time? 

I landed in NYC and it wouldn’t be my life if some type of drama didn’t ensue. SO, of course, it did. Right when I landed. I was left stranded in Time Square because of a male ego -_-. Not Bond’s but another person. It left a bad taste in my mouth. 

But I made sure not to let it ruin my trip. I decided to go to my hotel to change game plans and recoup. I knew I wouldn’t be able to see Bond much because he was on a business trip. When he arrived in NYC he let me know and we found out we’d be staying really close. Just across the bridge from each other. Then I found out his trip would be cut short and he’d actually be going back to Korea a few days earlier than planned. The day we had planned to meet was the day he would be heading back. Things just didn’t want to go my way. He told me he’d be taking a stroll down Time Square that night. I was disappointed at how things were unfolding and in a moment of frustration I let it be known. He seemed to be taking too much time to reply back to me. I asked if he really considered us friends. He asked if I was drunk. He said it wasn’t usual of me to act this way. I told myself I wouldn’t take that stuff anymore(holding my tongue to my true feelings). I was back on American soil and pledged I wouldn’t bend like that again due to so called “cultural differences”. I had had enough of that. But unlike the other kguys I dated, rather than gaslight me he apologized. In fact, he was very sympathetic and apologetic. From that moment he was extra attentive and promised to do right by me.

Even though he was busy he said he’d make time to meet during his lunch break. Unfortunately I couldn’t do that. So he made every effort to try to meet at a more convenient time for me. I told him I’d be meeting up with a friend for dinner, but we could meet up afterwards since we’d be around the same area. 

After dinner with my friend I headed to our meet up spot. I remembered his birthday would be the next day so I stopped by a deli to pick up a cupcake, candles, and a lighter. I hid it away in a bag. When I got to the spot I called him and he snuck out of his hotel to meet me. We walked around to find a coffee shop, but they were all closed. While walking he saw a fancy bar across the street so we decide to head there. We get in and he buys us drinks. We go and find a small table for 2 away from the bar so we could sit and talk. Our drinks arrive. We start catching up on the short time I’ve been away from Korea. I didn’t particularly like the bartender’s recommendation and I guess he saw it all over my face lol. He ordered me a different drink (which was much better). I noticed he seemed a bit solemn and low spirited all night. It was almost midnight now(11:59) so I took out the cupcake and candle. I lit the candle and when the clock struck 12 o’clock I exclaimed “Happy Birthday!”. His face completely lit up.

I really enjoyed seeing how happy it made him. His demeanor completely changed and did a 180. He didn’t realize I knew it was his birthday. He told me he was really touched by the gesture and now completely let his guard down. 

We ate a few bites of the cupcake and then left to take a walk down Time Square. On our way there we passed a few guys shooting dice. One guy was trying to sell his mixtape to people around. He comes up to us and makes his pitch. I hand him a few bucks and he hands me his cd. He thanks me, compliments me, then lightly taps on Bond and tells him he’s a lucky guy. He then hurries off. I chuckle it off and hand Bond the cd. I tell him when he goes back to his room he should play it. You never know. It may be good. He says “And get a computer virus? Uh, no.” I’ll pass. lol We walk toward the main area and a taxi passing by gets a little too close to me for his comfort so he pulls me into him. What in the kdrama nonsense is going on here?! *plays ‘You Are My Destiny’ theme music* XD He asks if I’m alright. I say I’m fine. We walk over by the red steps and take a few pictures together. We kinda just take in all the sights and sounds. It was a good little break to just enjoy the essence of New York City and get away. We walk down a couple more streets and just joke around enjoying each others company. We’re walking to cross the street and I was so focused on what was ahead that I didn’t pay attention to what was on the ground. I took a couple steps and *squish*.... I stop in my tracks. He looks back and asks what’s wrong. I stutter out “I think I stepped in horse poop.” I was just hoping it wasn’t true. He looks at me, then down to my foot, then back over to my eyes. The crosswalk timer is winding down. I pick up my foot to reveal what it is. Yeah... it’s horse poop T_T. 

He jokingly pinches his nose and teases me as we run across before the timer runs out. Me with that awkward limp run you do in order to not make the mess even messier. We make it to other side and he’s cracking up. I playfully pat him and say “You think this is funny?” I scrape the poop off on the curb and he jokes that I now need to go home and take a shower because I stink ¬_¬. We laugh it off together. Unfortunately he can’t stay out long and has to get back to his hotel. He wasn’t really supposed to be out but he came out for me. 

He walks me over to the subway station and we stop at the entrance. He finally confesses he likes me. I’ve realized the feeling is mutual. We say our final goodbyes and give each other a hug. It’s a little longer than usual. When we stepped away slightly we paused and looked at each other. 

You could cut the tension with a knife. It was that very obviously perfect timing for a kiss moment but we mutually decided against it. We blushed, looked down, and lightheartedly laughed it off. We said goodbye again. He waited for me to walk down the steps and when I was there we waved each other goodbye one more time. 

We still talk from time to time though it’s been a while now. We would call each other and have hours long discussions. I appreciated that he was honest telling me how he felt. If he was offended or uneasy about something I said he’d let me know and vice versa. Then we’d find out it usually stemmed from misunderstandings. One of those days my sister passed by and heard him talk. Like I’ve said before, he has a really attractive semi British accent with a deep tone. She was so shocked when she heard it and said “Who is that?! OMG, his voice is deep!”.

I wish you could see the level of amazement in her voice and on her face when she said that. lol  Anyway, I promised myself I would never date a kguy again. Too many of them are too TOXIC and too much of a headache. But I would have made an exception for him. He would have been the last one I gave a chance. For the time I interacted with him he seems almost perfect on paper. He is well traveled, educated (also went to school for a bit in England), good personality, has a good stable job, not from Seoul(originally), and he’s tall so he’d fit right in with the guys in my family (wouldn’t be angry at the fact he’d be the short one like that ex and his 188cm ass XD). Not that he was short, he just made an insecurity complex out of it where need not be *rolls eyes*. Bond is 191cm. Around the same height as my little brother who is actually the shortest boy in my family. My two older brothers are 203cm and 205cm. They’d probably still joke that he’s short but all in good fun. Also I really liked that I felt protected around him with him being in the special forces and his job and all... I seemed to find all the special forces guys ;). And he never gas lit me. Not once! Which was a really big thing that happened constantly when dating kguys. It became one of the most irksome things about them, but he never did it. In fact, he was only ever genuinely apologetic when misunderstandings came up. It made me appreciate him even more.

But alas, I guess we were ultimately just not meant to be. We live in two different worlds and on different continents now and I don’t do that. Neither does he. But he let me know when I come back to visit Korea I always have a place to stay <3.

[365days365movies]

April 10, 2021: The Graduate (1967) (Recap: Part One)

Some Like it Hot got Oscar-stiffed. So did this film!

This film got seven nominations at the 1968 Oscars, and took home Best Director and NOTHING else. It was nominated for Best Picture, Actor, Actress, Supporting Actress, Adapted Screenplay, and Cinematography, and got NONE of them. Hot damn! That surprises me, because this film is RIDICULOUSLY iconic.

I mean, hell, The Simpsons has homaged it at least twice, which I know from the above GIF and the following GIF. And in that one, the teacher in the background is Dustin Hoffman, HOMAGING HIMSELF

There’s been a stage adaptation, AFI called it the 17th best movie of all time in 2007, while also putting it on 5 other lists, and but it on the Movie Quotes list TWICE! Leonard Maltin’s seen it before he dies, the Library of Congress has it in their collection, and it launched Dustin Hoffman’s career into the goddamn atmosphere!  And that’s not even mentioning the one thing I’m looking forward to the most:

The music.

Look, I’m not exactly a big music nerd, by ANY means. I’ve heard songs, but can rarely identify the band or person playing them. I was in an acapella group, a steel band, and chamber orchestra, so I’m no foreigner to music. I’m just...not a big music nerd. But I DO know Simon and Garfunkel, and the more I hear of them, the more I like them.

Scarborough Fair/Canticle, Bridge Over Troubled Water, Mrs. Robinson, Cecilia, I Am a Rock, ALL of them are good classic folk rock songs that are easy to remember. AND I KNOW IT’S LAME TO LIKE FOLK ROCK I DO NOT CARE SUE ME IF YOU MUST. Oh, and I didn’t even mention the most famous of their songs, whose fame was aided by this film’s success. But, uh...I’ll hold onto it for now.

In fact, for now, let’s just jump into the film in and of itself! The Graduate is a classic, and it’s been on my list for a while. It’s more of a romantic comedy, but it’s primarily a comedy (from my understanding), so it’s fitting that I throw it in here. Let’s go!

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

We start on a plane as it lands, joining Benjamin Braddock (Dustin Hoffman), as he leaves the plane and walks through the airport. We also start right away with a BANGER, and the most iconic song on this film’s soundtrack: The Sound of Silence.

Classic. CLASSIC! One of their best! Not my favorite, but one of their best for sure! But OK, after that, we get to know Benjamin a bit more. He’s a recent college graduate and in a state of melancholy, not quite knowing what to do or how to feel about his new situation. This is to the confusion of his father, Mr. Braddock (William Daniels) and his mother, Mrs. Braddock (Elizabeth Wilson).

Urged to attend the party in his honor, he reluctantly goes downstairs, where he’s absolutely accosted (nearly assaulted) by all of his parents’ friends. One of these friends, Mr. Maguire (Walter Brooke), somewhat awkwardly pulls him to the side, and brings him out side. He wants to say one word to him. Just one word.

After that...interaction, Ben takes the opportunity to escape, as all of his accomplishments are being read out loud to the throngs. And I have to say, you can feel just how overwhelming all of this is for him. It’s a palpable anxiety. He goes back to his room to get away from everybody and just look at his fish tank. Just a celebration of the introvert’s experience right here, and I can dig it.

But this private reverie is interrupted by the barging in of one Mrs. Robinson (Katharine Ross), who pretends to have mistaken his room for the bathroom, but sits down and smokes anyway, despite his protests. She asks what making him upset, and notes that’s it’s more of a general feeling than a specific one. She understands and readies herself to leave, but not before asking him to give her a ride home. He reluctantly accepts, and takes her home. She invites him in through some subtle manipulation and...well, you know where this is headed.

An absolutely classic line and classic exchange, and I’m kind of surprised that it happens this soon into the movie, to be honest! She denies the accusation...kind of, and he asks her apology. But she brushes it off, and asks if he’d like to see the portrait of her daughter Elaine, which he’s quite enthusiastic about. But while there, in her room, things continue to get awkward as she basically undresses in front of him.

Mrs. Robinson continues to deny that she’s trying to seduce him, but it’s all basically gaslighting to get him to admit that he wants to be seduced. Damn, Mrs. Robinson, what the fuck? And it’s actually made WAY FUCKING WORSE when she tricks him into getting into a sealed room, where she traps him and tells him that she’s interested in sleeping with him, whenever he wants to. Ben is OBVIOUSLY frazzled as fuck, especially considering the basically near-rape situation he’s currently in.

Thankfully (maybe), the sound of Mr. Robinson’s car pulling up allows enough distraction (and adrenaline rush) for Ben to GET THE FUCK OUT of there, and he runs into Mr. Robinson (Murray Hamilton) in the process. Noticing how frazzled he seems to be, Mr. Robinson tells Ben to relax in his youth, and having a few flings with the ladies while he can. He brushes off all of this, and gets out as soon as he can.

Soon after, summer begins, and not really in Ben’s favor. He’s used again as a prop for his parents and their friends, as his father got him a SCUBA suit that he demonstrates in their pool, despite his protests and wish to be heard. And people...people don’t listen to Ben, huh? I genuinely feel bad for the kid, because it really does seem like nobody attempts to listen to what he wants for how he feels, his parents included. But he seems to get the solitude he’s been seeking as he sits beneath the pool. But that’s overlaid with the realization that Ben actually WAS seduced by Mrs. Robinson, and he gives her a call to meet soon afterwards.

They meet at the Taft Hotel, where Ben is his typical nervous and awkward self, and goes to get a room for the two of them. And it’s now that I should mention that this dude is EXTREMELY twitchy, like goddamn. I know they were saying that he’s “the kind of guy who was to fight them off”, but I DO NOT see it, not gonna lie. 

After a bit more awkwardness, they meet in a room at the hotel, where the clearly still quite nervous Ben struggles with the whole affair (pun intended), including the fact that she is one of his parent’s friends, and that this is a fast start to their relationship. But, Mrs. Robinson being Mrs. Robinson, she once again manipulates him into just getting on with it...and it works.

Once again, The Sound of Silence plays, as summer passes on and he lazes about the pool during the days, then goes to sleep with Mrs. Robinson in the nights. But he doesn’t seem to enjoy any of it, as the two halves of his life are so separate, and he separates them in his mind. And that’s done by some very clever camera work and production design, honestly.

This transitions into a version of the folk rock duo that I hadn’t heard before: April Come She Will, as the affair continues forth. This is interrupted by the frustrations of Ben’s father, who asks what he’s going to do after his collegiate career, tired of his lazing about and doing nothing for...a few weeks. Really? JESUS, DAD, LET ME RELAX!

His time with Mrs. Robinson is also a bit awkward, as he’s craving some sort of relationship outside of specifically sex, and she’s entirely uninterested in that kind of relationship with him. As he tries to start any form of conversation, she reluctantly enters one, which reveals some parts of her relationship with her husband. Specifically, they don’t really love each other, and were forced to marry because she became pregnant with Elaine. It also reveals that Mrs. Robinson is a somewhat broken woman, emotionally.

It’s also revealed during this conversation that Mrs. Robinson DOES FUCKING NOT want him to take Elaine out on a date, but won’t explain her reasons for that. After prying, she says that she doesn’t believe he’s good enough for her (although I don’t quite believe that, personally). This makes him upset, and leads to an argument that almost causes him to leave. But still, she forbids him to go out with Elaine.

That’s made even MORE complicated by the fact that Benjamin’s parents force him to ask her out on a date, and he does so reluctantly, which makes Mrs. Robinson VERY upset. And I gotta say...I don’t think I like anybody in this movie. Like...at all. I only kind of like Ben, although I really only feel bad for him because he has no agency in his life. Not a big fan of Mrs. Robinson, who’s upset by a situation she’s entirely responsible for, and is cheating on her husband. Ben’s parents are annoying, and Mr. Robinson...I dunno, sort of puts off these sleazy vibes, but that’s just a feeling I’m getting.

Elaine seems nice, though, as the two go on a date together. But in order to please Mrs. Robinson, Ben does his absolute damndest to sabotage the date. Starts off with reckless driving, then transitions into ignoring her almost entirely, and then takes her out to a strip club for the date. Which is all understandably extremely upsetting; again, it’s not exactly endearing me to Ben, and it’s not working on Elaine either, who’s convinced that Ben is doing this to punish her specifically, and I don’t fucking blame her!

She runs off crying, and he goes after her, realizing that he’s been a dick and that he really doesn’t want to be. They go get food at the A&W, which is making me both hungry AND nostalgic now...fuck, I really want some food from A&W. But with that, they actually have a good time when he opens up to her about how he’s felt since college ended, and she does something nobody else has: she listens to him.

OK, I’mma get some food, but this is a good place to pause for now! See you later for Part Two!

#the graduate #the graduate 1967 #mike nichols #charles webb #anne bancroft #dustin hoffman #katharine ross #william daniels #murray hamilton #elizabeth wilson #comedy april #user365 #365days365movies #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year

[jerepars]

Throwing Copper Extended Chapter Notes

2 / 5 The Queen of Lower Chelsea

Hyperlinks appear in blue (underlined on mobile). The story is posted here. Direct link to this chapter is here.

“You should think about getting the hell out of Dodge,” James said boldly. “What was it you said that night, before Devon called you for dinner at the winery? You wanted to get big enough so no one could hurt you. Don’t you think you’re well past that now? Do you really need every last little light in New York City? You should go with George, to whatever island he found in the Caribbean.”

Well, let’s get right to it, I guess. This chapter is named after “The Queen of Lower Chelsea” by The Gaslight Anthem. One way or another I was going to find a way to get a reference to this because there’s mention of a queen, New Orleans, and New York in the lyrics. James’ dialogue here borrows from the line: American girls, they want the whole world, they want every last little light in New York City.

“How did we get here?” she wondered. “With you being the one trying to pull me back from the ledge and asking where my respectable convictions went?“

The opening lyrics to The Get Up Kids’ “Holiday” are questions: What became of everyone I used to know? Where did our respectable convictions go?

I am of the opinion that the album this song is from, Something to Write Home About, is perfect from beginning to end. Any time I can refer to it, I do. Sometimes I have a bunch of random dialogue in mind before I start writing a chapter and I knew right away Teresa was going to say this. I think it’s fitting. I’d like for Teresa to have self awareness and recognition of what she’s gotten away from, whether that be good or bad.

It didn’t seem like it’d been so long ago when she was voicing her distaste and disapproval for the way James lived, for the things he’d had to do, so deeply ingrained in a world of criminal activity that was new to her. Teresa remembered how hollow his voice had been when he’d said that’s the wrong answer after he’d asked her what they should do about Lopez’s guy who tried to short them on payment and she’d said, with worry, to let him go. It was only the second time she’d worked with James, and she’d been naïve then. She’d been naïve still, months later when she told James he was a good person and that’s not who you are about cartel operations that ended with casualties—though she believed she was right about those things. But as she moved up, and in her quest for expansion, she’d burned bridges and done wrong, setting aside her inconvenient convictions. Teresa always told herself it was for survival, for the good of everyone around her. But there was a seduction to vengeance, and sometimes it was without guilt that the flames licked at her face and she chose wrath.

To look back at 1x03, it can really be seen how both James and Teresa have changed over time working with each other. First of all, the way he says “that’s the wrong answer” (0:56) is...somehow really appealing. Lol. And then you look at their body language and facial expressions throughout this scene, so different from the way they are as the series progresses.

To me, it seems they go through a role reversal of sorts, over time, because James gets softer and Teresa goes scorched earth.

“When I was summoned to Bolivia by El Santo, Pote gave me that card with the psalm on it. It was important to him, symbolic, because if I had it on me, it meant I’d be protected, and I’d be back,” Teresa explained. “So give me something. Something that matters. I’ll give it back.”

James was glad Teresa had that fire in her, that determination to get through anything. He was glad, too, that she could acknowledge she might be about to walk into the belly of the beast. But the cynic that he was, James thought they had a narrow shot at playing the meeting right without everything blowing up in their faces, and he didn’t think symbolism was going to change the outcome.

“Superstition isn’t going to save your life, Teresa,” James said.

This section indirectly calls back to “Throwing Copper” by Touché Amoré, the song the story is named after. It’s the last bit of the song: But if superstitions can give someone faith, then I’m throwing my wallet and begging for change.

James’ constant observation of flickering light in Teresa’s eyes can’t be the only call back to the title, right?

One of the first things James ever said to her was I’m not religious, whoever they stole this car from is after Teresa made a snide comment about the rosary hanging from the rearview mirror, as he’d raced against time to the airport. She remembered everything about her early interactions with James. She remembered his longer hair that was a little too perfectly messy—tousled. She remembered he spoke to her coldly and never smiled, even though his eyes were warm. She remembered when he’d covered for her, something he’d decided to do of his own volition, more than once, and how it helped her understand who he really was. She remembered seeing the chain against the skin of his neck, the necklace usually tucked under his shirt. She hadn’t seen the pendant until the night when Eric’s men followed them to the cemetery to retrieve Camila’s reserve money, and Charger had to pull a bullet out of James’ shoulder after the car they were in was shot up.

One of my first ideas for this story was Teresa asking for something valuable, to be returned, to “protect” her and make sure she was going to get out of the meeting okay. So I went back to something from the first season, something that the show’s wardrobe department has probably long forgotten about or lost in a box.

James’ necklace is actually visible in the very first shot he’s in ever, in 1x02, around 6:30 of the episode. It’s not tucked into his shirt. But then, in later scenes, still in the warehouse, it...disappears. He’s still wearing it though, because you can see the chain a little bit (2:29) while he’s waiting to go through the metal detector at the airport.

It’s visible again in 1x07, when he’s all bloody and has to get the bullet removed from his shoulder (0:20), and in 1x11 when he’s talking to Camila on the phone in the trailer (0:29).

And then we never see it again! It’s just absent in every other season. I don’t know why this bothers me so much, but it does. I guess I consider the accessories that characters have to be part of the world building and continuity.

So I wrote it in, gave it a backstory, gave it purpose. Yes, this is really the kind of thing that goes through my mind. 

“Yes.” Teresa nodded. “Nothing comes cheap. Not even me.“

In this whole back and forth between Teresa and Devon, I like that it starts with him saying she doesn’t have a bargaining chip but she manages to turn it around on him. I imagine that canon Teresa would be able to do the same thing, too (after all, she makes the smart move to send Lil’ T to his mother in 3x05).

Anyway, this piece of dialogue is inspired by the bridge in “The Queen of Lower Chelsea”:

Well they say these days Nothing comes cheap And everything has a price Everyone has a price Nothing is free Not even me

In 2x01, Teresa says “everything in life has a price” when she and James are at Rolando’s memorial (a moment that’s also mentioned in the chapter) as she’d devastated about Brenda. Earlier in the chapter, regarding Oksana’s death, it’s mentioned that everything has a cost. So it’s all connected.

After a while, James closed the distance and touched her face. Teresa held her breath when he wiped under her eyes with the pad of his thumb. Then he held her jaw, his fingers at the back of her neck.

”You’re gonna be fine,” James said.

There’s this moment in 1x08, when James is talking to one of the hotel maids (0:56) for information. And she’s freaking out because the cartel is in her house. James wipes at her tears with his thumb. I find it to be a confusing moment because it’s like...is he doing it to calm her down? Is he doing it threateningly (the whole scene is pretty threatening anyway)? 

But me, I’m like, yo, when do we get to see him do that to Teresa?

She was apologizing not only for pressing on his wound but for everything, preemptively, for the tough spots she put him in and for what she’d done that he didn’t know about yet. She really did know how to do a number on him, she thought, inflicting pain like a flame that burned him to let him know they were both still alive.

The last line is a reference to Bayside’s “Duality”: you’re the flame that burns me so I know that I’m still alive.

#je repars notes

[samclownchester]

I’m Not Sorry

Read on AO3

Listen, Dean has done a lot of problematic stuff they've never discussed on the show (or they have discussed but it was in a very biased and unfair way) and we all complain about it and I just wanted to write Sam finally standing up for himself and Dean finally owning up to the crap he's done so ... I hope it's as therapeutic for you to read as it was for me to write!

“Dean, we need to talk,” Sam said, sliding into the seat across from Dean at the kitchen table. Dean looked up from his breakfast, surprised, and the egg on his fork slowly slid off and flopped back onto his plate. 

“Um, good morning to you too,” he said, disgruntled.

“I’ve been talking to Eileen about … our lives,” Sam said without preamble, “And I’ve realized a few things. Things that I wanted to make clear,”he was doing his best to talk in a level tone. The last thing he wanted to do was start an argument, but he had realized that a lot of things had gone undealt with between them, and he wanted … no, needed to clear the air. At least for a few specific things.

Dean set his fork down and shrugged, giving Sam permission to say whatever was on his mind. 

“I’m not sorry,” he started, and though a part of him was a little afraid of Dean’s reaction, he also felt relieved to be saying it, “about what happened in 2012.” Dean just looked at him with wide eyes, and Sam couldn’t tell if he was surprised by what Sam was saying, or just shocked he would interrupt his breakfast over something that had happened so long ago. “I mean, I wish you hadn’t gone through purgatory, and I do … I do regret not looking for Kevin but … I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry for getting a dog, for falling in love, for trying to move on after I thought you had died, like we had promised each other we would. I don’t apologize for that.”

Dean didn’t respond for a moment, just stared at Sam, his expression unreadable. “Let me get this straight,” he said, “you were talking to Eileen about this girl you were … with, almost 10 years ago and … what? Sammy, come on…”

“Don’t.” Sam said seriously, giving Dean a level look, “don’t try and make light of this, don’t just brush it off. Dean,” he heaved a sigh, “look, you’re my brother and I love you, I do, but … we’ve been through a lot of crap together, and you have put me through a lot of crap, and we need to talk about it.”

Dean stared hard at him, but when Sam didn’t break away from his gaze he finally relented, “ok, fine. Fine. So you’re not sorry. You’re not sorry I spent what felt like eternity rotting in a world of monsters. That’s great Sam, just what I wanted to hear when I woke up this morning,” he stood up, picking up his plate and heading toward the sink. Evidently, he no longer had an appetite.

“That’s not what I said, Dean,” Sam turned to continue facing Dean as he maneuvered around the kitchen. “It’s not like I’m happy you went to Purgatory, and I know that it was very traumatic for you, and I understand that you were angry and hurt when you got out, but I did not deserve all the guilt you threw on me. I did what I thought was right, I mourned you, Dean. I thought you were dead for good.”

Sam sighed deeply, “Yes, Dean, the future matters, but the past does too. It’s made us into who we are, and … sure, we kickass but we also –”

“Yeah, except that’s not what we do!” Dean yelled, “we don’t just give up on each other,” and Sam felt like they’d transported themselves back in time. A part of him regretted bringing this up; wanted to curl up into a ball, tell Dean he was right, apologize, go back to his room and leave things as they were. But he’d realized that how unhealthy that was, and he fought against that instinct.

He reminded himself that it was the present. That Dean had been out of purgatory for years and a lot had changed. “What about when Cas died,” he asked, trying his best not to raise his voice. He didn’t want this to be an attack, just a counterargument, although he worried Dean would get defensive either way, “by some miracle we got him back, but you didn’t want to try anything to bring him back. You burned his body. You gave up. You mourned. Did that mean you cared any less about him? No, you just didn’t know how to save him.”

Surprisingly, Dean’s anger seemed to lower to a quiet simmer. He set his jaw, taking a deep breath. “Ok,” he said, “I’m – I shouldn’t have yelled. This is an old argument anyway. Things’ve changed; we’ve changed. Listen, I don’t – I know you’ll have my back in the future, that’s what matters.”

He cut off, not sure if it was wise to say. An observation Eileen had made about how their family seemed to work that had left him feeling a little unsettled, especially because it was so true. 

“What, Sam?” Dean asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. He seemed completely done with this conversation, but he wasn’t leaving. 

Sam sighed, “You and I – and hell, even Cas – have been stuck in this loop for years now. With you as the moral authority on everything, you always have the last say. But, I’m sick of apologizing. I’m sick of putting my head down and letting you have your way.”

“Sam, what the hell are you talking about?” Dean exclaimed, “I listen to you!”

“Yeah, when it suits you,” Sam shot back

“And you’re your own person, anyway, you can do whatever you want.”

“Yeah, and I do,” Sam said, “but if it’s not what you want, I usually have to do it behind your back.”

“Ok, so now you’re blaming me for the fact that you’re a liar?”

“Dean, would you stop!?” Sam yelled, “I’m trying … I’m trying to get you to own up to the fact that you have hurt me! Ok?” Dean turned away but Sam had a feeling he was rolling his eyes, “I mean, yeah, you took care of me, you’ve protected me, you’ve always been there for me, and I’m grateful, I am!” he said, although he sounded anything but grateful, “but you’ve also hurt me. I mean … ever since … and I know this was ages ago but it’s seared into my memory; that voicemail you left me, right before I went to kill Lillith. You called me a bloodsucking freak and told me you were on your way to kill me … I think, ever since then I’ve been … afraid,” Dean turned around again, his eyes wide, “afraid of you … seeing me that way. So I just … I apologize, I let you be right –”

“No, hold up,” Dean said, cutting Sam off with a gesture. He was looking at Sam like he had been speaking a foreign language, “I never said that.”

Sam shook his head, exasperated, “Dean, you might not remember, I know you probably weren’t thinking straight – God knows I wasn’t – but it happened, ok. I know it did.”

“No,” Dean insisted, “I do remember, I left you a voice mail. I did, but that was not what I said.”

Sam looked at his brother incredulously, “Dean, are you seriously trying to gaslight me right now?” he said with an ironic laugh, “that is … you’re unbelievable.”

“No,” Dean advanced on Sam, “that’s not – I mean I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I was on my way to save you. I never would’ve even thought that killing you was the answer … I just, I – I couldn’t.”

But Dean cut him off, “No, shut up Sam,” he said, “You’re right, ok? You’re right. I have put you through some real crap. I have said horrible things to you, and the whole situation with Gadreel … I didn’t think. I didn’t … I didn’t know what it was like to be possessed, to lose your autonomy like that I …” his voice caught in his throat. Sam felt sucker punched. He hadn’t been ready to talk about Gadreel, that was something he tried desperately not to think about, but he saw tears forming in Dean’s eyes, “And after Charlie died? I was … the Mark was messing with me Sam, but that’s no excuse. What I said? I didn’t mean it. And I know, ok? I know I have a lot to apologize for. And I am … sorry, I am,” he took a deep breath, he wasn’t letting Sam get a word in edgewise, but this all seemed like it was very hard for him to admit, “I always think that people will just – that they’ll just get it, y’know? That they can see that I’m sorry, I try to … make up for stuff without having a conversation, but … you’re right. We need to talk about this. We can’t just forget about it.”

Dean seemed so convinced he was telling the truth, but Sam couldn’t accept it. This was one of those memories that, despite the years that had passed, despite everything else they had gone through, remained clearly stamped in his mind. It was the day he realized Dean’s love was a conditional one. He knew Dean would go to the ends of the earth for him, but deep down he always wondered … where was the line? What were the conditions which, once he failed to fulfill them, would make him lose the only thing that had every really mattered to him?

“You know what Dean, maybe this was a mistake,” Sam said, “we just don’t … I shouldn’t have sprung this on you first thing in the morning,” he hated himself for saying it, for crawling back into his shell, trying to placate Dean, to keep the peace in their little family. 

Now it was Sam’s turn to stare in shock. Dean was looking down somberly, obviously trying to fight down a well of emotion. He slowly raised his eyes to meet Sam’s. 

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” he said earnestly, “I’m sorry that I hurt you, I’m sorry that I blamed you for things that weren’t your fault, I’m sorry that … that I scare you sometimes. I’m sorry that I still act like Dad. And you don’t have to forgive me, not for everything, not right away.”

Sam breathed out, he felt a weight lifting off his chest. For so long he had been carrying guilt that didn’t belong to him and finally he was starting to feel like he had permission to let it go.

“But Sam,” Dean continued, “I was never going to give up on you. I don’t know what happened to that voicemail, but I need you to believe me. You’re my brother, and there’s nothing you could ever do to change that. There is no line, no conditions, I have your back. Always.”  

And, for some reason, Sam started to believe him. He knew the extents to which their lives could be manipulated, he knew how desperately Heaven and Hell had wanted him to break that seal. Maybe someone had changed the recording somehow, meaning to push him over the edge. Whatever had happened, Dean was adamant that he hadn’t said what Sam remembered. There was no final straw. 

“Thank you, Dean,” Sam said, because he wasn’t going to say, “it’s alright,” because it still wasn’t. And he wasn’t going to say “I forgive you” because … there was a lot to forgive. But this was an important step. 

Dean nodded in understanding. They stood in silence for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say, then Dean turned to leave. 

“Listen, Dean,” Sam said hesitantly, “I think it would be … healthy for us to take some time away from each other. Nothing permanent but just … a break.”

Dean pursed his lips and Sam was worried he would reject the idea, but he just said, “yeah, yeah I think you’re right.”

Sam sighed in relief, “Um… Eileen and I can take off for a bit –”

“No,” Dean said, “No, you stay here with Jack.” Sam met his gaze and Dean quickly added, “I mean … if you don’t mind. It’s just … Cas and I have a few things we should probably discuss and I … I’m trying not to shout so much in front of the kid.” He looked chagrined, probably because of all the shouting he’d just done, which had likely been heard by everyone in the bunker. 

Sam smiled a little bit, glad that Dean was trying to be less authoritative, and at the thought of Dean and Cas starting to unravel their own messy history. With the help of Eileen’s outside perspective, Sam had really started seeing all the unhealthy patterns they’d been caught up in. 

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” he said, “lets run it by Eileen and Cas and see how everyone feels.”

“Great,” Dean said, “I’m just gonna –” he started heading toward the hallway, likely to his room, but he paused, “I really am sorry, Sam.”

Sam nodded in response, “I know that now Dean, I believe you.”

Dean looked like he might have more to say, then thought better of it, responded with a nod of his own, and left Sam standing in the kitchen. 

Although the conversation had been … turbulent, to say the least, Sam felt good. They certainly hadn’t said everything that needed to be said, and obviously overcoming their unhealthy patterns would take time and effort but … Sam felt like they had hope. And he finally felt like he had permission to search for happiness outside of his codependent relationship with his brother.

#Supernatural fanfic #sam winchester #dean winchester #dean critical #technically #sam has never done anything wrong ever in his life ^_^ #Dean say you're sorry challenge #let's talk about purgatory and the voicemail and gadreel and charlie #but this time we give Sam the space and love he deserves

[witchyinthekitchen]

This is a Vent Post about my Mother, Please do not reblog

This post is probably gunna be all over the place/time with things that I can remember/recall so bear with me here.

-Being told to make my own food bc mom was too busy with brand new baby (I was between 5-6 so poptarts were about all i could manage. I'd asked for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.) (my brother was a VERY finniky baby. If you weren't holding him he'd scream till his face went purple.))

-Tried to share interests in Anime/manga with her, when I asked her what she felt about it she said she couldn’t get into it and that it felt like a chore. (13-15 ish)

-Told her I needed therapy bc I was having suicidal thoughts. She took me, but then took me out once I started getting upset about the things i’d been talking about in therapy with my therapist because I'd come home in a bad mood.(15-16 ish)

-Went to Mother Daughter Group Therapy with her (there were other mother daughter combos) and she stormed out in the middle of it saying that we were only attacking her and not my dad too. (was 15-16 ish)

-Got into an argument about who i was voting for in the 2016 election while on vacation at Disney World (Hint it wasn't Trump like she wanted)(24 ish)

-Tried to gaslight me about trying to get everyone together to talk wedding stuff saying how she tried but that it all fell apart. (I have texts of her canceling it the day before we were all supposed to get together.)(26)

-Gets super defensive/upset any time I talk about “other mothers” in my life (MIL, BM)

-Has been super hot and cold with me during wedding planning and making passive aggressive comments about everything: Tell him to buy new pants for the engagement shoot 'bc I dont want him wearing baggy clothes -SO's Lost over 20lbs+ for the wedding and i'm so fuckin proud of him- “I don’t want to pay for hard alcohol for SO and his friends to drink at the wedding.” As if ½ the people invited weren’t all just her friends? ((All our friends live out of state/country so half the wedding is family and HER friends/neighbors.)) "I’m sure H*(SIL) and K*(MIL) have good counsel for you on _____," (Why would you say this when i'm asking for YOUR opinion? If i wanted their opinion i'd ask them.)

-4 months before the wedding she’s trying to talk me out of my venue saying we need to go look at the ones SO and MIL had suggested.

-Wants me to keep (BM)'s relation to me a secret even though i’m pretty sure 85% of the people who know me and are coming to my wedding know i'm adopted.

-Angry that I was moving out of the house at 21 with my SO she told his mother she hoped we’d fail. (In her defense she'd just been diagnosed with breast cancer and I'd done poorly in my last semester of college so parents thought it would be a good idea to take me out of college for a semester so i could live at home and basically be at my moms beck and call while also being expected to work 2 jobs (they'd told me the instant that the semester was over that i was expected to work 2 jobs) -That's at least how I was viewing that whole situation before I moved out- )

-As a kid I remember wanting to run away a lot. (Never away to a friends house but always to a park to live under a bridge like the goblin I am (lol)) (is it obvious I use self depreciating humor to get through things that I'm uncomfortable with? haha)

-I'd always hide things from her, even small things like a puzzle book i'd bought myself from the elementary school book fairs. i even began writing my diaries in code so she couldn't read them. Not that i ever caught her reading my diaries or what not but thats how afraid i was.

-The only things that stopped me from killing myself was the distressing thought that my mother would be more upset with blood on the floor than me being gone. (It was a constant worry of mine when I was having ideations.)

-When i was getting close to graduating high school the librarians told me they had a bunch of excess old books they were getting rid of and one of them happened to be the "Toxic Parents" book i've seen several other posts refer to. I took no other books besides that one. I hid that from her too. Looking back through it i remember there was a checklist in the book and i'd filled some of it out when i was younger. I most definitely am a people pleaser.

-We've never really been able to "talk" about things together like how my dad and i do and i think she's really jealous about it.

-The only way I feel comfortable talking to her is Via Email/Text because then that way i have a copy of all the things she's said. because i often forget things. (I honestly don't know how bad my memory is or if its gaslighting but i hope its just me being forgetful and not the latter...)

-I literally cannot let my SO do the dishes because my Mom would always do the dishes/clean when she was mad and bang pots around loudly and just even those sounds set me on edge.

-Her telling me that the careers i wanted to get into (IE: the Arts/Theater/Music) wouldn't make enough money and that they'd be fine as Hobbies but not as careers.

-She's continually trying to push me into a Customer Service Job because i'm so good at making other people happy. (talked to dad about this and he says i'm a very big people pleaser who doesn't like conflicts -cue nervous laughter about wedding planning-)

-Being around her for long periods of time is so physically/emotionally draining. I know that's probably a result of always being on edge with her and I always feel bad that I feel that way.

-Because she's said she hoped I'd fail (me and my So when I first moved out) I'm terrified of telling her anything personal going on in my life for fear that she'd take it out on me or use it against me (i got super anxious/scared when she came up to see me on my end of town once because we'd be stopping at the mall where i used to work and i hadn't yet told her that I'd quit that job.)

-I want to have a relationship with her. I want us to do fun Mom& Daughter things but at the same time I'm scared of letting her get too close to me again just to have it fall apart again.

-When I moved out (21) i went VLC with my whole family before i even knew what VLC was. I barely saw them (except for certain holidays/events.) I didn't talk to my dad for about 3 years because of this and am just now recovering that relationship with him (been 5 years now since I moved out)

-After I get married my plan is to move to CO. During that time i don't remember if my mom has mentioned if she'd miss me, but i do recall she has made multiple points to tell me that my dad says he would miss me.

-I had to beg for a 16th Birthday Party. She finally caved half a year later after I'd talked to my Therapist about it.

-pretty sure i'm the SG of the family (possibly Cousin 1 being the GC because she went to same University my mom did)

-Other family members on her side have stepped in to provide financial help to me on the promise that i wouldn't tell anyone. (probably to stop any gossip of favoritism)

I Don't know if she's an N or just really bad at expressing herself but her hot and cold attitude really sets off my anxiety that i've done something to piss her off and that she won't talk to me about it for a few weeks and then acts as though nothing is wrong/nothing happened. Planning my wedding is the MOST contact we've had in 5 years since i moved out and went VLC and i've been trying to use this as a way to bond with her better but anytime i think i'm getting somewhere Something happens and she's upset again. A phrase i've found myself come into saying recently is "I can't fix something that I don't know is wrong." So i've tried to take that approach when it comes to her. I know she's an adult and can choose for herself if she wants to talk about whats on her mind. I can't force her to talk if she doesn't want to but the anxiety it causes when she gets into these moods is really debilitating. I'm terrible at letting things go (especially if i think its my fault)

I'm Not Her Therapist, but if she has an issue with me I wish she'd just tell me instead of the Silent treatment for a week.

Trigger Topics that I've learned to Avoid at All Costs:

Anything about "Other Mothers" in my life.

Politics & Racism

Anything in the Past that happened.

My moving out

Anything that paints her as a "Bad Mother"(aka this whole post probably)

This post is a mess and I'm rambling. Thanks for sticking through this Brain Dump while I process. 

-Edit 2:

More things i'm recalling: For Christmas one year in front of my whole family (I was between 8-10 ish) she got me a set of underwear with the days of the week labeled on them and told me in front of everyone that "Maybe this would help me remember [to change my underwear daily]..."

One of my final years in high school I somehow managed to get a Cold Sore. My First Cold Sore ever and my lip where it broke out swelled up HUGE. I woke up the day it appeared ( a weekend thank the gods) and horrified went downstairs to tell my mom about it. I don't recall any words of sympathy other than "Cold Sores are caused by Herpes." I just remember breaking down into tears.

I mapped out a "Quiet Walking Path" that avoided all the creaky floorboards and steps in our house.

I get extremely anxious whenever I would hear my parents footsteps coming up the stairs. It got to the point that I could distinguish their steps on Carpet.

I jump/flinch (visibly) at loud noises, even if I know they are coming (movies songs ect.)

Routinely friended/unfriended me on Facebook before deleting it entirely (due to 2018 spying/hacking allegations)

I don't know if she means for these things to be hurtful but as someone who doesn't enjoy confrontation and is extremely sensitive to others feelings it just hurts y'know?

-edit 3: Attempted to talk to mom about her saying she hoped we'd fail via email. went about as well as expected. =Well, that clears a lot of things up. We only wanted you to be independent and happy, and it appears you are. End of story!

And for what it’s worth, I’ve said a LOT of things over the past 6 years that you didn’t hear about. And I’m not really sure where you heard “I hope they fail.” But I’m sure your source is 100%, and certainly not something you’d want to clarify with me.

I hope you got your apartment all squared away in Colorado. You should be under the 60-day notice by now! Woo hoo!

Let me know when you all are coming to get your stuff out of the house.

I’ll have it packed and ready for you.

-Mom

Am i reading into this too much? because it sounds like she's being hella passive aggressive about this.

-Edit 4: 7-19-18 Been venting about wedding planning being stressful on fb away from my mom since she doesn't have one anymore. I didn't realize she had fms reporting to her about my posts as she just randomly mentions via text that she wants to help me have fun while planning and that she wishes she could make it a happy time for me.

Edit 5: 9-26-18 Wedding is over finally. had our honeymoon and got moved out of our apartment back into my MIL's house. During the move we had to put all of our stuff into storage which includes Wedding gifts and thankyou notes. So Mom has been hounding me about getting them done and i've informed her several times that all of that is in storage and i havent been able to yet. She said not an excuse go buy more thankyou notes and write them all. I asked if Emailing a thank you would work, she says no must be hand written and mailed out (also who's paying for 100+ stamps: Me) Well Tonight she informs me that she's doing all the ones from her/my side and that she doesn't care if we do them for DH's side since SIL didn't send any thank you notes either. Cue big long talk with DH about all of this and he says not to worry about her being passive aggressive like this. Go and check my Email to find she sent an Email to me only with writing saying

"Dear all,

Thank you so much for attending --- wedding. Your presence was so important to me, and I know to the kids as well. Thank you also for the lovely wedding gifts you sent or brought. I know they are appreciated and will be enjoyed by the newlyweds. It was very kind and generous of you!

Unfortunately, --- is unable to send thank you notes, but I did want you to know that your gifts, and your presence at the celebration, were very important to all of us, and very much appreciated.

Fondly,

MOM"

currently I'm choosing not to respond and I wonder how our relationship is going to be going forward from all of this... I was so happy that the wedding was over so i wouldn't have to deal with this petty drama bullshit anymore but I guess thats just too much to ask for.

-She's also unfriended me on facebook again. I'm tempted to just block her to stop this wishy washy stuff from happening again.

#Personal #DO NOT REBLOG #I will block you if you reblog this #Vent for myself #i don't know what to do anymore #Mom #Mom Vent #i hope i dont have to update this anymore #but we'll see #venting post #PERSONAL VENT #PARENTS #Emotional Abuse #Mental Abuse