#and shame and loss and guilt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr’s reach among the 26-to-35-year-olds in the US is 11%.

#and shame and loss and guilt

shallowseeker · 8 months

Text

The inherent shame in loving angels: Dean & Castiel

I think 14x09 The Spear & 14x10 Nihilism have some marvelous built-in lines pointing to the guilt concerning angelic possession.

Pamela Barnes's presence and subsequent blinding in Dean’s dreamscape is so, so fascinating. It implies that, despite what Dean says in The Spear, Dean is strugglingwith what the reality of Cas is and a new perspective on the brutal knowledge of what his presence means.

Take these lines from The Spear:

CAS: You seem good lately. Happy, even. [ Dean is getting gear from back seat ] You -- We have a broken tape deck, we drove this whole way without music, and you did not complain once. DEAN: [ Closes car door ] You know, I guess I'm just fired up. I mean, look. We got -- We got Jack back. When was the last time we had a big, no-strings-attached win like that? CAS: But now we have Michael. DEAN: I know. CAS: And, Dean we're taking a big risk going after the spear like this. DEAN: I know we are.[ Stopping Cas ] Listen to me. Michael conned me. Kept me trapped and drowning inside my own body. Now, when you and Sam were possessed by Lucifer, I -- I thought I understood, but I didn't, not really. So, yeah, if we get a chance to trap him, I'll take that, but I won't be truly happy until he is dead and I kill him. And now I have a chance to do that, so, yeah, I'm good. Let's go.

On the outside, Dean is happy. There's just one thing left to defeat, and then, maybe finally he can be happy. (We know from 12x23 that his happiness, the 'everything he's ever wanted' includes his makeshift little family: Cas, Mary, Jack.)

But Michael's possession left him psychologically injured. Angelic power and possession is on his mind. He's still struggling with the horror of what that felt like.

He does not mention the elephant in the room--that Cas not only know what's like to be possessed, but to possess.

///

Then, we see Pamela Barnes in 14x10 Nihilism, and yes, she's conspicuously dressed in Hell and wing motifs. Michael reminds us that it was Cas who pulled Dean from perdition, and then we get this:

(Flashback to Pamela's eyes being burned out) DEAN (looks at Pamela, whose eyes are now pure white): You're blind? PAMELA: Yeah, I've been blind for a while. Thank Feathers here for that one. CASTIEL: That was -- Dean, that was an accident. ♪ And I'm searchin' for a rainbow ♪

This is Dean's subconscious. It's taunting him that he's been blind...for awhile.

It's an ominous undercurrent reminding him that yes, he's loved Cas for awhile, and yes, that's blinded him to what Cas truly is. His subconscious is struggling and balking at the new perspective he has on Cas's human victims. Pamela was an accident, but Jimmy wasn't. Countless others weren't either.

He can't help but think about it, and he's desperately suppressing it. He loves Cas. But Cas blinded Pamela, like he blinded Dean. And Dean loves him anyway, and that's horrific, isn't it? He can't have that. They can't possibly deserve that happiness together. They're both here at the expense of others. It's frightening and ugly and drowning him with guilt.

Beyond Pamela lies the specter of Jimmy Novak. The ugly truth is that the third member of Team Free Will stripped a man of his free will so utterly.

And yet, Dean's subconscious is chanting, “I love you. I can’t help it.”

It's true what they say: love is blind.

25 notes · View notes

babyfairy · 4 months

Text

god said i’m going to put you through unending emotional pain and turmoil and give you the most unbearable personality on earth so that you’ll feel guilty whenever you don’t deal with it in complete isolation. good luck and enjoy

#my eyes are raw from crying at work and i can tell it doesn’t matter lol as long as i’m here and working who cares #i could walk out in front of my job and step in front of a vehicle and die and they’d probably just be upset about the loss of labor #i hate myself but i hate the world around me more. i don’t belong here. i’m only here out of obligation and guilt and shame that’s it

8 notes · View notes

firstenchanterorsino · 5 months

Text

Neat concept to consider: a Dark Urge origin character could technically regain their memory if they had Regenerate cast on them.

I say could because if someone wanted to be a stickler for wording, it can be validly ruled that Regeneration doesn't apply to internal/organ damage as it specifically only details regrowth of "severed body members". However, also equally valid ruling to say that it would make sense it would recover significant internal damage.

I think it's pretty sensible to say that Regenerate would restore it, as it has been firmly established in-game that the majority of the memories lost for the Dark Urge are explicitly due to physical trauma to the brain. Since Heal is described as having healed a sliver of the permanent damage which then caused immediate memory recollection, safe to say that complete restoration of the brain would come with total or almost total memory recollection.

Which leads to the most interesting character building point of this which is: how would regaining their memories affect the Dark Urge, especially if the identity they developed post-amnesia is fundamentally different from who they originally were? Would the reclamation of memory be processed as gaining their prior sense of identity in some way, or would it get processed more like witnessing the memories of an entirely separate person from their POV?

I think it's only a given that the answers to these questions heavily relies on whatever path the new Dark Urge has chosen, as well as whether or not the Dark Urge still has Bhaal's blood. Even more intriguing character development musings that the fraction of one's Dark Urge interpretation is influenced by where in the timeline memories are regained. Further expanded upon, another question is if the return of their memory would drive the Dark Urge back to the ambitions of their old self or if it would only serve to fuel atonement more than they were already motivated to.

> ur welcome to use this post as a prompt btw

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #the dark urge #juicy drama is the dark urge quickly turning on everyone theyre currently allied with on the more moral good side #to rejoin the absolute plot. alternatively post-story and redeemed dark urge now pissed because they used to be #a damn efficient absolute unit of death. now feels lame.#for more fuzzy n warm outcomes: dark urge now having full and complete appreciation for their hard won freedom and reclaimed personhood #the memories of ''a life before bhaal'' are pure tragedy and while holding value... still hurts still stings the same it did before.#perhaps even worse. they mourned the fragments they had of the child they used to be and loathe the matured monster. did so before #and even more now. seeing these joys and loves theyve come to own and questioning if they deserved any comfort with hands so bloody.#they could not control their memory loss and reforging of identity. this gets echoed by lover(s) and friends alike. but there is still an #ache of deprived justice as the monster their vessel once was will never experience a fraction of the punishment they forced on others.#b u t BUT BUT through the haze of guilt and shame and refound confusion over self.... it clicks like it never has before...#that they actively live their wishful fantastical hope of a life after bhaal. they chased with theirs hunters blood and triumphed.

3 notes · View notes

joziokowalski · 4 months

Text

not being able to fully share the interests of someone i want to be liked by gives me so much Pain. if i fail to grasp every shade of meaning [insert book, film, historical person, symphony, song by a mediocre indie band, etc] holds for them and fail to contribute to the conversation with relevant insights of my own or god forbid have a markedly different opinion/view of said thing then surely they will cease to see any value in me at all and if that happens then well what is even the point of anything really. you might as well just put me down

#if i just plainly dislike said thing then that's a question of what's going to come out stronger. infatuation or snobbery #then it's shame and guilt in the first case and complete loss of any interest in the person in the second

0 notes

imastoryteller · 16 days

Text

20 Emotional Wounds in Fiction That Make Readers Root for the Character

Abandonment: Characters who have been abandoned by loved ones or caregivers can evoke sympathy from readers.

Betrayal: Being betrayed by someone close can create deep emotional wounds that make readers empathize with the character.

Loss of a Loved One: Whether through death or separation, the loss of a loved one can be a powerful emotional wound.

Rejection: Characters who experience rejection, whether in relationships or by society, can be relatable and evoke empathy.

Abuse: Physical, emotional, or psychological abuse can create complex wounds that shape a character's personality and behavior.

Neglect: Characters who have been neglected, especially in childhood, can evoke sympathy from readers.

Failure: Experiencing a significant failure or loss can create emotional wounds that make characters more relatable.

Guilt: Characters who carry guilt for past actions or decisions can be compelling and evoke empathy from readers.

Shame: Feelings of shame can create internal conflict and make characters more relatable and sympathetic.

Injustice: Characters who have experienced injustice or unfair treatment can evoke strong emotions from readers.

Trauma: Characters who have experienced traumatic events, such as war or natural disasters, can be sympathetic and relatable.

Loneliness: Characters who feel lonely or isolated can evoke empathy from readers who have experienced similar feelings.

Fear: Characters who face their fears or struggle with phobias can be relatable and evoke empathy from readers.

Self-doubt: Characters who struggle with self-doubt or low self-esteem can be relatable and evoke sympathy.

Identity Crisis: Characters who are grappling with questions of identity or struggling to find their place in the world can be sympathetic.

Addiction: Characters who struggle with addiction can be complex and evoke empathy from readers.

Betrayal of Trust: Characters who have had their trust betrayed can be sympathetic and relatable.

Unrequited Love: Characters who experience unrequited love can be sympathetic and evoke empathy from readers.

Isolation: Characters who feel isolated or disconnected from others can be relatable and evoke sympathy.

Fear of Failure: Characters who struggle with a fear of failure can be relatable and evoke empathy from readers.

#writing tips #writing advice #writers on tumblr #writeblr #creative writing #fiction writing #writerscommunity #writing #writing help #writing resources

3K notes · View notes

starin-down-a-better-path · 1 year

Text

"Can't go back and change things, all I can do is make sure I do better in the future, but knowing that and feeling that are two different things, and just knowing it just isn't enough sometimes."

-k.t.

#personal #grief #loss #regret #change #past #hurt #guilt #shame #resentment #angry #depressed #love #life

1 note · View note

teaboot · 1 year

Text

While I'm happy that the word "gaslighting" is more known than it used to be, and that people at large are learning to recognize what it looks like, I feel like we need to be careful not to turn it into something soft and casual we throw around off the cuff without meaning.

Being gaslit is psychological abuse that fucks you up very badly, very slowly, at such a gradual pace that you don't usually know it's happening until it's already re-wired your brain.

If you're unfamiliar with the term, "to gaslight" is to intentionally persuade someone that they cannot trust their own perceptions of reality. It's a destabilizing form of manipulation that leaves you constantly anxious, off-balanced, confused, and dependant on others.

This is done by lying about events that have happened or about things that are happening, invalidating feelings and observations, and either denying, refusing to acknowledge, or deflecting away from hard facts.

As someone who has experienced gaslighting as a form of abuse, this is what I remember from when I didn't know anything was off:

"Oh, I must have forgotten what really happened."

"I'm just not seeing it from their point of view."

"Everyone has their ups and downs. This is normal."

"I guess I wasn't thinking about what I was doing."

"I must have been wrong."

This is what I remember from when I first started realizing something was weird:

"How come every time I'm convinced they did something wrong, they just talk to me a few minutes, and I end up asking for their forgiveness? What has me so convinced I was right in the first moment?"

"I should start writing things down when they happen, so I can go back and check later when I'm confused."

"If every relationship like ours (familial, romantic, platonic) works this way, how come I never hear about it, or read about it, or see it anywhere else?"

Getting out and adjusting to the real world is hard, too, and comes with rapid swings of unfounded guilt, shame, fear, anxiety, and self-deprication that are completely unfounded in reality.

You've been conditioned to believe that you are entirely helpless and unable to think for yourself, possibly "crazy" or otherwise fundamentally impaired, and that there is a singular source of guidance that knows exactly what is right, and all of a sudden that pillar of support has vanished.

The immediate "after" that I recall looks like:

Constant uncertainty. Because nobody is there to tell you what's real and what isn't, you approach every situation thinking at it from all angles. Every question has fifty possible answers and most of them are wrong and you don't know which. If you choose wrong, the world will end.

A sense of helplessness. You feel that nothing you do is correct, and it's easier to make no choices at all- or you make wild, reckless, impulsive choices, because you feel you have nothing to lose.

Memory loss. I don't understand this one, but it's not like memoriescare being erased, but more like... you're so used to treating your memories as dreams or imaginations that you reflexively dismiss anything you recall as fake, and you can't believe anything you recall because you don't think it was real. Your abusers voice is in your head, wiping things away and telling you that you did the wrong thing. And you believe them, because they're the only constant you can rely on.

Missing the abuser, or the abusive dynamic. Because you know now that it wasn't healthy, but at least you knew where you stood. As long as you said the right things and acted the right way, agreed and obeyed and did as they expected, you felt like thevworld made sense. Now you have to figure out which parts of you really are broken, and which parts are working fine in a really weird way, and it's like tuning a piano when you've never played one before.

The long term "after"- for which I can only speak for myself- looks like:

Having to double-check, triple-check, and continue checking hard evidence of an event before responding in an active way.

Consulting with trusted friends to verify that your observations are legitimate and that your perceptions are valid. Following up with them to see if someone is really angry at you, or if you're just projecting anger onto them because it's what makes sense to your old pattern.

Obsessive collection of "evidence"- saving pictures, writing detailed journals, making recordings and video, never deleting emails or old texts, because you still don't quite trust yourself all the way and you're afraid that someone will cause you to doubt yourself again.

Continued self-doubt and being "gullible": I have straight up seen people flip me off to my face in front of witnesses and then immediately tell me, "No, I was just waving", and my first instinct is to believe them. For a few seconds, I *really do* believe them. Your brain is so trained to latch onto what people tell you to believe that its really, really hard to hold onto information that you already have.

Learning to take ownership over your own actions. (I didn't mess up because I'm "crazy", I messed up because I'm a person and people do that.)

Instinctively seeking approval. (Takes a lot of work to remind myself that I don't exit to make people happy, and that some people suck ass, and I can tell them to piss off.)

I don't intend to invalidate anyone currently struggling with this- if you feel that something is wrong, it probably is. That's the thought that got me out. Trust that feeling that something isn't right.

I just want people who don't know what to look for to know what gaslighting *actually* looks and feels like, so they don't just roll their eyes and think, "Oh, that word doesnt apply to me- I'm not some snowflake".

('Cause we all saw what happened with "triggered", right?)

#Gaslighting #Abuse #Information #Psychological abuse

6K notes · View notes

perlelune · 4 months

Text

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | v.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Grandma’am’s dissonant notes fill your room as you lie on the bed. The old woman’s wobbly soprano has been the background noise to your awakening this early morning.

At least it diverted you from your dire thoughts.

You rose with low spirits, defeated. You didn’t dare leave the cover of the warm blankets.

You’ve stared at the ceiling for so long, the flower patterns have morphed into smudges of pale color swirling in your vision. It’s all you did the entire morning. Stare at the ceiling while awful thoughts collide in your head. Perhaps for hours. You’re not sure. Time has been a foggy concept as of late.

You can’t even remember when everything started spinning out of control. The beginning of your unraveling.

The day before Coryo held you as you wept in his arms. For a while, in the warmth of his embrace, the uproar in your head fell silent.

Now it’s all noise again. Chaos. You have no desire to climb out of bed, face the day. Perhaps it makes you a bad guest. But hiding is easier. So it’s exactly what you elect to do.

Hiding until it becomes an impossibility.

Or until the door knocks in that case.

The sound startles you.

You don’t answer. Instead, you burrow yourself further beneath the sheets.

The knock starts again. Stubbornly, you ignore it.

“I’m coming in,” a familiar, airy voice announces.

The creaking of the door reaches you and your brows crumple. A slight weight plops on the mattress, making it dip under you. You freeze, willing yourself to remain still.

A delicate perfume hangs in the air. Guilt seeps through you. It’s not like she’s done anything to you. If anything, she’s been kind. It’s about the hot layer of shame that has grown thick roots into your being.

Her gentle lilt flutters above you.

“I won’t move until you talk to me; I’m worried.”

You gnaw on your lip. The seconds stretch to minutes, arduously long, seemingly endless as she remains on your bed. It dawns on you how deadly serious the older of the Snow cousins is. She will not go away until you speak to her.

Besides, your mother’s voice echoes somewhere in your head. Your behavior is ill-fitted for a lady. Here you are, a guest in someone else’s house, acting like a petulant child.

Though you balk at the prospect, it’s time to face the world.

You huff out a quiet sigh under your breath before peeking above the blanket.

“Tigris,” you mumble.

Her thin blonde brows are pinched.

“You missed breakfast,” she notes. She tilts her head, scrutinizing you as her frown deepens. “First dinner, now breakfast. It’s becoming a habit.”

Concern glimmers in her honey orbs. Your chest squeezes. The last thing you want is for someone else to feel terrible. You push the blanket further away from you, sitting up as a contrite smile tugs your lips.

“Sorry.”

Tigris’ slender fingers latch onto your forearm.

“Don’t apologize. Just keep me company today.”

You attempt to deflect, “What about Coryo?”

The blonde releases a deep exhale, crossing her arms in frustration. You’ve gazed upon a similar crease on Coriolanus’ face before.

“He barely has time for me these days. Between his work with Dr Gaul, the University and…” A small smile plays on her lips as her voice trails off. “You of course.” Your cheeks heat at her implication. Of course, you’re aware of Coriolanus’ dedication to showing up for you as of late. But it never occurred to you that it could impede on Tigris’ time with him. It saddens you.

From what you recall of the glimpses of them you caught growing up, there was a time the two Snow cousins were inseparable. After all, ever since they were young, Tigris has been everything to him. A mother, a sister, a best friend. It was clear on Coriolanus’ face too. Fondness was etched on his face whenever he looked at his cousin.

She leans over you, her tone pleading.

“Come on, I really need a friend, and something tells me you do too.”

Shoulders sagging in surrender, you concede, “I’ll get dressed.”

She leaps to her feet, a victorious smile breaking onto her face.

“I’ll have the maid bring you some food before we go,” she sings. “When’s the last time you ate anyways?”

You purse your lips, shocked at the realization of how long it’s been since your last meal, eating having toppled to the bottom of your list of priorities the last two days.

You give an honest reply.

“I…can’t remember.”

Concern scrunches Tigris’ angular features once more. She then takes her leave and you glumly get ready for the day.

Food is brought up to your room. You nibble down every bite of cheese, bread and eggs until you’re full.

You find the massive trunk Coriolanus had the staff carry up to your room. You marvel as you peer inside, rummaging in search of an outfit for the day. His thoughtfulness astounds you. You don’t deserve a friend like Coryo.

Once you’ve removed your night robe, it pools at your feet. Your stomach sinks at the sight of your bare form. Bruises still speckle your skin. They are starting to fade but the ones on your hips and thighs are still quite prominent. The thought of Coryo touching you this way crosses your mind and you shudder.

You know you shouldn’t feel this way.

It’s like your friend said. It’s better that it was him than some stranger with nefarious intentions. After all, you were both drunk. You both didn’t mean for it to happen. It’s obvious Coriolanus is as inconvenienced by this as you are.

You should move on, let the incident scatter amidst the unfortunate mistakes of youth. It’s what common sense dictates. Otherwise guilt will chew you to the bone.

But you can’t.

Every time you think of that night, you’re unsettled, an inkling of wrong humming through you.

It haunts you. Though you wished it didn’t.

The remainder of the morning is spent with Tigris. The two of you scour the city in search of various fabrics and items her boss, Fabricia Whatnot, asks her to collect.

It’s a nice change of scenery and you welcome it.

You even get to see Tigris work on a dress, a magnificent wedding gown whose sight stirs a bittersweet feeling within you. It reminds you that your own dress was ruined, a matter you’ve yet to solve.

…If there’ll even still be a wedding.

As the afternoon sun crests to a scorching peak in the bright blue sky, she offers to stop by a café which you readily accept. You both sit beneath a wide umbrella on the outdoor terrace.

You take small bites of your petit fours, the sugar melting on your tongue providing much needed comfort.

“Does your grandmother do this every morning?”

Tigris’ lips pause above the rim of her porcelain cup, her honey gaze widening at your question. Realization then lights up her face.

“Oh, the singing? Yes, almost.” A fond smile spreads onto her thin lips. “Grandma’am likes to reminisce about the glory days of our family, you know…before the war.”

Your brows furrow.

The glory days...

Could the days before the war truly be referred to as that? The people of the Districts were forced to serve the ever-growing needs of the Capitol citizens, reaping no benefits from their hard work and being kept docile by the perpetual threat of execution.

Exactly like now.

You hardly see the glory in that. Maybe for the victors, the ones who get to stand atop the mountain while others try to claw their way up from the bottom until their hands bleed.

But, as usual, you don’t voice your treasonous thoughts, simply nodding in response.

Tigris and you both relish the comfortable silence for a while. She doesn’t urge you to talk and you’re grateful for that. Idle talk is an arduous task when constant worries gnaw at your mind.

While she may not know the depth of your predicament, you appreciate that Tigris picks up enough not to prod.

“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” she says. “Quiet. I like to come here when I need a moment to myself.”

Your gaze roams across the luxurious garden near the café. You get lost in admiring the pretty flowers and the swan fountain. It reminds you of your own garden, your beloved roses, probably withering from neglect. You’ll need to tend to them soon.

“It’s beautiful,” you admit. You nibble on your bottom lip before your eyes find hers. “I’m sorry for being…difficult this morning.”

Tigris’ shoulders heave as she replies nonchalantly, “It’s quite alright.” Mirth sparkles in her amber orbs. “I’m sorry for dragging you all over Panem to run those errands.”

You give a small smile. “It’s fine. I enjoyed the distraction.”

You look down and fiddle with your napkin, arranging it in different positions several times in your lap.

“Is something the matter?”

Tigris’ abrupt inquiry makes your head snap up.

You hesitate beneath her compassionate stare. After a long, quiet minute, your shoulders slump.

“I just loathe that I am such a burden to you and Coryo,” you mumble.

Tigris tilts her head, genuine confusion scrunching her features. “A burden? Don’t be ridiculous. You could never be that to me...” Her slender hand reaches across the table to drape over yours. “And even less to Coryo.”

A wry chuckle leaves your lips. “Well, he’s got better things to do than taking care of me.”

She shakes her head.

“Taking care of you is a pleasure to my cousin.”

You wince. “I very much doubt that.”

Tigris’ head lowers, her hand rising to her mouth to dampen her chortle.

“What’s so funny?” you ask, frowning.

“It’s just…you really don’t see how much you’re changing him?” She studies you momentarily before heaving out a long exhale. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course,” you reply immediately. She smiles.

“I haven’t seen him focus on something other than his ambitions in so long…not the way he focuses on you.”

Your jaw hangs slack at her admission.

She pauses, seeming to mull over her next words. “Coryo…when he returned from his service in District 12, he was so different. I thought all the warmth in him was gone, that he was becoming like my uncle.” A distant, sad look dims her eyes. “A cold, calculated man. But when he’s around you…" Fondness illuminates her face while she gauges you. "I don’t know, it's almost like he’s back to his old self. The little boy I knew, sweet and caring. My little Coryo.”

Her fingers tighten around yours as she beams. “You’re good for him, so don’t worry about being a burden. It couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Tears of relief almost spill from your eyes at that but you swallow them.

Instead, you return her smile. It may have been at the behest of your dead brother but you couldn’t deny how comforting Coriolanus’ presence has been, his friendship the silver lining above somber clouds. Coryo is the only one who gladly listens when you talk about Sejanus and how much it aches that he’s not there anymore, his passing having left a void that can never be filled. It’s too painful for your mother and your dad’s in plain denial. If it weren’t for Coryo, grief would have eaten you alive, you’re certain of it.

It’s hard to picture your life without him in it now, in some form or another. In fact, you don’t think you even want to. You may have lost a brother but the gods were merciful and granted you another.

After you leave the café, you and Tigris take a leisurely stroll through the Capitol’s streets. The talk you had with her rejuvenated you. For the first time since that awful night at Clemensia’s, you feel a bit more like yourself.

All is well until someone strides out of a bakery, someone you know too well. The sight of the familiar face freezes you in your spot.

Your eyes then lock from across the street. You watch the recognition dawn on his face.

He starts making his way towards you.

A surge of panic bleeds inside you. You briskly grab Tigris’ hand.

“Let’s go,” you urge, already pulling her in the other direction.

“Wait…what?” Befuddled, Tigris lets you drag her along as you start racing through the streets.

You don’t dare look behind you, your heart thundering inside your chest.

You dive into a busy street. The crowd cloaks you as you zigzag between bodies. Strangers give you dirty looks but you don’t care, focused on running as far away from who you saw as you can.

You and Tigris end up in a narrow alleyway, catching your breaths behind a dumpster.

You shoot worried glances at the other end of the alleyway. You lost him, you realize. A strange blend of emotions fills you, every single one carving a larger hole inside your chest.

“Who was that?” Tigris asks between uneven breaths.

Shame swells within you as your gaze lands on the cobblestoned floor.

“My fiancé,” you reply.

“Hey.” Your head lifts from your knees, your eyes traveling to the blond head peeking through the slight opening of the door.

Concerned cobalt orbs study you. You avoid his scrutiny by focusing on a random spot on the bed sheets. He enters the room. As he sits at the edge of the bed, you bring your legs closer to your chest.

His soft tone breaks through your hazy train of thoughts. “Tigris told me what happened.”

You unleash a shaky breath before finally meeting his gaze.

“I’m a coward,” you say.

His hand rises to cradle your jaw, his thumb collecting an errant tear you didn’t even realize had spilled over. “You’re not a coward,” he assures.

Your lip wobbles. Of course you are. You saw William, your own fiancé, and ran away from him. Who does that? An idiot and a coward. But you didn’t know what else to do. You panicked. When his beautiful green eyes locked with yours, all you could think about was those same eyes filled with hate and betrayal if he ever learnt what you did.

“I am,” you affirm.

Coriolanus strokes the side of your face, his tone growing firmer, “It’s a tough situation…”

His sentence is halted by a loud banging downstairs.

Your eyes go wide.

“What’s that?”

The faint echo of your name being yelled from outside reaches you. Your heart leaps as Coryo’s features go taut, his jaw clenching.

His lips stretch in a tense smile.

“I'll go check. Stay here.”

“I’ll come.”

You jump from bed and make a beeline for the door. He tries to placate you by holding your shoulders, blocking the exit with his towering frame.

“Princess, I don’t think-”

You glower at him. You can’t run forever.

“You can’t stop me, Coryo.”

Tension hangs in the air for some minutes, thick and electric, before he relents with a deep sigh, “Alright.”

Heart in your throat, you take slow steps down the stairs. Coryo trails behind you in silence.

Your name’s uttered again, the door rattling as he bangs against it. You flinch.

Trembling feet drag to the front door. Your hand spreads over the wooden carving. You take a deep breath before hesitant words stumble out of you.

“William, you can’t be here.”

“I love you. Of course I should be here.”

Unwavering determination vibrates in his tone. Guilt flares within you. You swallow the impending rush of tears. You don’t deserve him. He’s good, kind, honest…and you’re a liar.

“I saw you with that girl, Snow’s cousin. Talk to me, baby, please.”

“I just need a little time...alone.”

“What? Is this about the wedding preparations? Is it your parents?” He sounds confused and hurt. Your heart wrenches. You’re hurting him. It’s exactly what you meant to avoid. “Whatever it is, we can fix it. We can face anything as long as we’re together.”

The desperation thickens in his voice.

“Come out. I just want to see your face, please.”

“I…”

Your fingers hover above the gold door knob. But your hand is snatched by long, stern digits before it can fully wrap around the handle. Coryo tugs you away from the door. You gasp as his deep voice resonates in the lobby.

“You need to leave her be. She told you she needs space, William,” he says.

“Snow!” A mirthless chuckle ripples from the other side. “I knew it had to be you somehow.” You leap as the hinges of the door shake as William’s fists slam against it once more. “What did you do to her?”

Tears well up in your eyes.

“Right now, it’s you that’s hurting her,” Coriolanus says, his fingers curling around yours. “What kind of husband-to-be doesn’t respect his future wife’s wishes?”

Your brows collide. You wish he didn’t speak like that. After all, you’re the one at fault. But fear keeps the words chained to your throat.

“I just need to see her, please,” William insists.

Your stomach lurches. This is insane. Your fiancé is on the other side of the door and you won’t let him see you.

Maybe William’s right. Maybe talking to him will fix everything.

You sniffle and wipe your tears. You take a solid stride towards the door again, fingers ready to open it.

“I think I should, just for a few minutes.”

Your decision is made but Coryo’s hand cinches around your wrist. This time his hold is much firmer, on the cusp of painful in fact.

You grimace as he draws you away from the door, near the stairs.

He bends over you to whisper hotly, “To tell him what, princess?” Angling your chin upward, he sighs. “That you gave me something you denied him all this time? After just a few drinks?” Heat nestles in your cheeks. It is true. Both you and him got near that point so often, but you were adamant about waiting for your wedding night. It was your excuse every time. You doubt he’d take it well if you told him what occurred. While you want to believe your relationship will survive it, Coriolanus’ words are tossing fuel on every insecurity within you. Your confidence wavers, your hand sagging in his hold.

Coriolanus’ intense blue gaze is hard on you as he continues, his raspy tone low and foreboding, “Or perhaps, you’ll make up a lie? You really think he won't see it on your face?” A contrite expression settles on his handsome features. “You wear your emotions on your sleeves. He’ll know right away.” His thumb sweeps over your cheek to wipe a lone, stray tear. “William seems like a good man, but such a betrayal…it’d break the two of you before you even began.” He leans closer, his lips ghosting over your earshell. “He will never forgive you.”

All hope shrivels inside you, the last remnants you still held onto crumbling to dust.

You almost made a mistake. Of course Coryo’s right.

“Do you trust me?”

You give a frantic nod, releasing a shuddering sob.

He smiles at your response.

“Then go upstairs,” he instructs. “I’ll talk to him, fix everything.”

Seeing you linger at the bottom of the stairs, longing gaze darting to the door, Coriolanus squeezes your hand in reassurance.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’m going to make sure you still get to have a wedding at the end of this.” His smile grows wide. “I promise you.”

You search his face. Confidence radiates from his expression, planting the belief that he’s right deep within you. You shouldn’t have doubted him. Coriolanus has gone to great lengths to help you. Even now, he’s protecting your future. It’s more than one should ask of a friend, yet he’s doing it for your sake.

“Thank you,” you say. His hand slackens around yours, a satisfied glint dancing in his cobalt gaze. You rush up the stairs, not daring to look back in fear you falter once more.

#dark!coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!coriolanus snow

1K notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

goodweatherinside-blog

GoodWeatherInside

mpjz03

mpjz

strangelittlestories

Strange Little Stories

agodinnikez

bAdblOOd

kali-tmblr

RWBY Kali's Tumblr