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johannestevans · 1 year

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Thank you so much for the very detailed response, it was so helpful!

I wanted to follow up on the “old habits.” Basically, I have a very difficult time asking for what I want, saying when somethings not working, giving direction to the person I’m with, even when I am confident they wouldn’t respond badly. I had a sexual partner before I came out who was very disrespectful to me in that regard and wouldn’t listen when I wanted something or would actively push my hand away if I tried to guide it somewhere else or if he was hurting me etc. so I’m sure a lot of that is trauma. But now I struggle with speaking up, and I wondered if you had any advice about overcoming that.

Also, were there things you did before you started presenting more stereotypically male that helped you “feel more like a man” during sex? I know that’s a very subjective thing, but as someone who does prefer to bottom (though I do want to eventually try topping) sometimes it’s difficult to not go right back into that cishet mindset.

Follow up to this ask.

I'm so sorry, Anon, this is a really tough topic - your experiences are not uncommon, unfortunately, and like I said in my previous answer, a lot of that comes down to the culture around respect and bodily autonomy, especially bodies that are perceived as women's bodies, or are misgendered as such.

The thing about trauma around this sort of communication is that like... You're working through more than just a fear of the other person reacting badly and either being cruel verbally and/or hurting you worse as punishment - when this kind of behaviour becomes ingrained, when we hold our tongues again and again, when we become used to not just not communicating our needs but also repressing them, it becomes extremely hard to shake those responses!

It sucks so fucking bad when our sexuality in the past has felt like something we're not allowed to control, when our autonomy and our agency haven't been taken into account, especially when like...

The thing about cis M/F relationships in the mainstream - and relationships that are perceived as or misgendered as M/F - is that there's an element of coercive control in so many of them, because of a lot of implicit messaging around what's "right" and "correct" in a relationship, and especially about the things "the woman" is meant to withstand and take as acceptable - not to mention the things "the man" has supposed rights to and complete control over.

These things can absolutely happen in M/M relationships as well, and during casual M/M sex, I'm not gonna tell you otherwise, but my experience in cruising culture is that because two men come to it with an understanding of equal agency and control, it's just a lot easier to communicate and discuss these boundaries while you're going.

If you do use hook-up apps or text for a while beforehand, like I said, talking it out over text might be helpful? Just setting some ground rules like "I don't like having my hair pulled or being held down" or "I'm not ready for anal today" can be really nice, because it's a basic structure to work from.

Often when I first start having sex with someone, if my chest or hip are acting up, I say that from the get-go "Hey, I've got some issues with my hip and can't do some positions for a long time," or "Hey, my asthma's quite bad at the moment, so can I be on top?"

A nice thing if you're not certain about saying "I need this" or "I like that" from the off can be to go, "Are there any ground rules or baselines you'd like to set?" to the other person and see if there's anything they'd like to volunteer or set up. Taking the lead in these situations can be a relief for the other person as well as yourself, depending on how comfortable you are with it.

A lot of this ultimately comes down to practice - communicating your needs and desires is a skill, and it is one that takes practice for anybody, even without some baseline trauma affecting your feelings and confidence with it.

One thing that can help ease the way with communicating consent as you go is actually dirty talk - talking dirty in general might not be for you, but I do have another guide here about talking more in the bedroom, and also an interview about dirty talk in general:

Tell Me How You Like It: A Beginner’s Guide to Talking Dirty. How do I dirty talk effectively in the bedroom? How do I start talking when my natural inclination is to remain quiet? What do I say? How do I get over the embarassment? On Medium / / On Patreon.

Dirty talk: a deep dive into smut and the art of fantasy by Kish Lal — An article by Kish Lal for DripFeed, where she interviewed several people about dirty talk, including myself, looking at different fantasies, the psychology of dirty talk, and different ways to approach it. Read on DripFeed

I know I've linked you a bunch of pieces of mine at once, so if you do hit the free article limit on Medium and aren't able to pay for a subscription right now, remember you can use an incognito window or a service like 12 Foot Wall! Obviously this is how I make my living and if you can pay, do, but if you can't, please don't feel guilty or worry too much about it. We're all struggling, like.

As for the latter question...

I don't tend to have a lot of dysphoria around sex - especially because I'm typically a lot more confident than my hook-ups, I often end up in a more dominant and explicitly communicative position, even when I'd really prefer to be subbing more.

Certain positions might help you, such as riding or doing it doggy rather than missionary - I know some men do fuck with their binders on or while wearing a t-shirt to help with any dysphoria around their chest.

Nothing wrong with wearing a binder if that's what you need, but do try to keep safety in your awareness - not every binder is rated for significant exercise, and especially if you're fucking harder or rougher, you want to be aware of not constricting your chest unduly!

You might also try other gender-affirming kinds of clothing - they make men's lingerie, but there's also shit like leather harnesses and straps, there's jock straps, there's all sorts!

There's a lot to be said about language - making sure you're using the language you feel comfortable with with your body and setting ground rules with your partner if any specific words set up your dysphoria and make you feel less confident or comfortable. And remember that doesn't just have to be about your body to be important! Some men don't like the word "strap" or "strap-on" or referring to it as a toy or a dildo - they would treat it more like a phallic prosthesis than as an additional or extra toy, so they'd use words like cock or dick.

Hope this helps and good luck with it! <3

#trans mlm #mlm #sexuality #musings #anonymous

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andypantsx3 · 10 months

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Hii I just wanted to say always love hearing you talk about books!

As much as I love reading the biggest downside for me compared to fanfic is that there aren't any people immediately available to talk about a story with. I love that most often I am actually able to tell the author how much I loved their writing and seeing everyone in the comments express what they thought and felt is something I am so so grateful for!

But after I finish book that I have opinions on, whether I am freaking out over how great it was or if it made me once again question the publishing house that allowed it to go into print I am just like?? What am I supposed to do with myself now? most like i stare at a blank wall for about an hour to process and then try to move on with my day, it just not the same as being able to hear other peoples opinions on it. So, if you have any more book recs or just book thoughts please share them, it's really entertaining to read!

I hope you have/ had a good day :)

Ahhhh Archer you are such a good lil egg!! I I love talking books with other people too!! It drives me nuts because some of my faves are so niche and no one else I know has read them, because very few other people share my tastes.😭

I'm curious what your fave books are?? It's so hard to make recommendations without knowing your faves because I think book recs should be personalized to the recommendee's preferences. I would never rec my faves to the vast majority of readers, because they don't really appeal to the majority of people!!

But I guess that being said my all-time fave book as everyone already has heard me say ten million times is The Goblin Emperor, and I almost died of happiness when my beloved @acerathia read it too and I got to chat about it hehehe.

People are shocked when they learn this, because I am a silly idiot romance author and this book is very much not that. It's a meticulously-planned hurt/comfort fantasy of manners that is heavily character-driven. But to me, it is perfection. It is the pinnacle of literary achievement. It is so contemplative and explores the unique grief of losing people who were cruel or indifferent to you, about being kind in a world that makes it extremely hard to be, and about finding/making your own family in the face of social norms that would isolate you!! I just like how it gives you space to learn and process things with the MC, and how by the end of it you feel like you've grown as much as he has!! It's so earnest and hopeful and good and makes me want to rip apart a phone book with my bare hands!!!!

Another fave I semi-recently read is Winter's Orbit, which I think I have talked about on here too. It's another hurt/comfort-y found family narrative, only this time with real romance and space gays!!! The author actually first published this novel as an orig fic on ao3, and I think you can tell that by how much they seem to love and respect the tropes they employ. We get a little bit of the classic sunshine/raincloud dynamic with the two MCs, but the author does some absolutely fantastic character work and turns that right on its head, fully fleshing out both characters' buried personality traits, insecurities, and personal histories so that you end up with these two absolutely lovely good people who your heart totally aches for. It very much reads like an ao3 fic in the absolute best way, but polished and shined to perfection.

Another fave that I always blab about is the Pink Carnation series. This one is exactly what you would expect from me. It's silly idiot regency romance shenanigans, with several scoops of academia and historical espionage!! I think the author does such a good job at balancing the silliness of a fun romance with the intrigue of an actual historical thriller, and the characters are hilarious. This is the sort of thing I'm talking about with MCs who have major side character energy, as our first novel's protag Amy is good-hearted and smart enough in specific ways, but she is also unfailingly a horrible detective with a very limited perspective determined to be something she's not, and it also gets her into tons of sexy fun trouble.

So yeah!! If I had to blab about anything and rec things without knowing your specific tastes, it would be my holy trinity lmfao. But tell me more about ur faves, I wanna know!!!!

#ask andie

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catspittle · 10 months

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I am Normal about my own Scarecrow and hate canon Scarecrow [this is only partially a lie].

[Expanding on that post I reblogged earlier, for fun and also because I have quite literally nothing else to do today. As I briefly touched upon, there is a part of this version of Jonathan that does genuinely want to be vulnerable, or at least be safe enough in his identity and the people he surrounds himself with to allow himself to let his guard down a little and be vulnerable. He's tired of fighting, as evidenced by his attempting to retire after a 30, 40 year-long career. People change; his mindset hasn't, he still hates nearly everyone in existence, but he's smart enough to realize that if something doesn't work, you either try a different approach or give up. And he's not fond of change. Still, it's like pulling teeth that haven't yet rotted simply to be cruel. He will never be completely vulnerable, at least not willingly, and forcing him to be open will only hurt either you or him. Probably both. Also probably you more than him given his capacity for extreme violence and the fact he has 0 qualms with violence.

And I've also said that my interpretation doesn't view himself as human, let alone a living thing. He views the ability to let people in as a pervasive weakness that humans have; not him of course, never him. Maybe it's the autism, maybe it's the borderline paranoid schizophrenia, maybe it's the DID I understate. Hard to say. Speaking of, the paranoia is a core trait of his. You could argue that it's justified for the most part; he's spent nearly his entire life being viewed as nothing but a toy, a mere plaything [usually sexual] for people much stronger and with much higher social standing. The kind of guy that goes "wtf do you mean you go to group therapy and don't have to lie about every personal aspect of yourself to avoid being blackmailed by people that want you to hurt, want you to feel what they feel". Because, you know, that's normal....jk it absolutely is normal, I am the same exact way.]

#OOC - the mun speaks #metaanalysis #character analysis #Jonathan Crane #Scarecrow #masterpost

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icypantherwrites · 4 months

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Fic Update: Bottled Ocean, Chapter 37

Bottled Ocean summary:

Lance knew the moment he saw the one-armed Human man in pain, bleeding and tied up like bait in the ocean that the people on the nearby ship were the ones Mers like him were warned to stay far, far away from. Lance knew the moment he saw the one-armed Human man in pain, bleeding and tied up like bait in the ocean that the people on the nearby ship were the ones Mers like him were warned to stay far, far away from.

But even with such a warning there was no way of knowing how dangerous this particular ship, belonging to Night Elf Captain Lotor, could be.

And even had he known, Lance’s actions would have been the same. The man, Shiro, needed help. Shiro’s younger brother, a half blood Human / Night Elf and fellow abused slave needed rescued. And Lance could not, would not, turn away from those in need.

But all actions have consequences.

Lance is captured and now the fate that awaits him is as a test subject as Lotor seeks to unravel all of the legends, the mysteries and the magic of the Mers. His only hope is an escape alongside Shiro and Keith. But the clock is ticking as Lotor’s experiments and methods grow more cruel, more violent, and if they don’t escape soon… the only freedom any of them will find will be in death.

Chapter 37 snippet:

“As I had expected,” Lotor sounded above his sharp breaths, “your magic levels are still depleted. Pity. I suppose we shall have to move such studies to another day as,” and a hand landed upon Lance’s head, sharp nails raking both gently and painfully through his hair, “I cannot risk losing my beloved Mer.”

Lance tried to find the silver lining of relief in those few words — Lotor didn’t want to kill him accidentally by draining his magic, Lance didn’t have to feel that terrible cold and darkness again (yet), and Lance didn’t have to perform magic and have Lotor try to study it again today — but Lotor’s hand twisting his hair and the still too tight cold feeling in his chest made it difficult.

It also meant he was down to two choices of experimentation.

“The first viable option I shall offer you is a further physical exam and basic dissection,” Lotor said as pleasantly as one offering menu options while Lance’s stomach clenched as he’d known it was coming, but… but…. “Nothing too extreme, of course, as I have a great many plans for you yet, but something to get my more physical studies started.”

Lance was almost more terrified to know what the other choice was because it couldn’t be worse than dissecting him — and Alaraan, it would hurt so much and there’d be no escape and just… just…

“The secondary option would be a little experiment of sorts to study some of the ancient legends I have found in my research of Mers to see if there is more fact than fiction behind such wild tales,” Lotor continued. “That is all I am able to say on such an item as I cannot have my lovely test subject,” his thumb stroked across Lance’s head, “skewing my data with any preconceived ideas. Both are of course methods I shall be researching in full, but I shall allow you to choose which to start with.”

Lance trembled.

Either submit himself to literally being cut open and apart — and he and Lotor he was sure had different definitions of extreme to where the only thing Lance was somewhat certain of was he would not be losing any limbs at this point — or some unknown experiment involving Mer lore and possibly revealing elements of his culture and history.

One definitely promised pain while the other could hurt in so many other ways.

But…

Lance swallowed, feeling his throat bob.

He didn’t want to be cut up. He didn’t want to be taken apart in pieces. And right now, as proven, he didn’t have the strength to even try to heal any of the damage Lotor left behind.

Whatever this other option was…

It seemed, at the moment, the lesser of the two evils even if Lance knew he was just delaying the inevitable.

Read it here

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eileensmelancholy · 8 months

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i want to believe in something.

i want to believe in something like the christians do. i want to be faithful to something, trust it won't disappoint or hurt me.

i want to trust and believe in something so greatly that just the sound of words move me. not acts or demonstrations, just words. i want the vibrations of reading scriptures and verses to sound ever so sweetly to my ears.

people who believe and worship a God seem to have this designated sense of purpose like they know exactly why they're here and what they need to do. everything is already preplanned for them. i want to feel this sense of security. i want to feel like i know everything is going to be okay, that this beautiful Spirit has everything taken care of. they will take care of you.

i want to be taken care of. i want to feel like i know everything will work itself out because i pray.

my grandmother used to read me bible stories as a child and even then, i never felt secure. i always sat and pondered, wondering who came up with this. who was the author of this book, of these rules? like c'mon! this dude is trying to tell me how to live my life and i can't even see him? please, even then as a child i knew these stories were bullshit. now don't get me wrong, i longed for the comfort of these stories, but it never found me. i saw how this book, this extremely important piece of everyone around me, affected my family and friends at church. i saw how touching and moving it was for them. i saw the influence this person, this God had on them. they were caught in a chokehold.

it was easter sunday and i was 9 years-old. everyone was getting ready, but i sat on the couch waiting for the "get in the car." there was a documentary on the cable, obviously neither my dad or stepmom knew it was on because there's no way in hell they would've let me continue to watch it. it was this man, talking, and the background was of a tomb and obvious signs of the dry desert. they were explaining how Jesus was dead, despite people arguing and shouting he's not dead! it even showed them carrying out "Jesus' body" from inside the tomb. i now know this documentary was most likely a hoax and is not true. or at least the body was fake. 9 year-old me, however, felt relieved. relieved that i was not the only one who didn't get it, didn't believe. i hate saying i don't believe, but i would be lying to myself and everyone else.

we went to church that day and i could not stop talking about it. i didn't realize it then, but i was challenging everyone on their faith. i was asking them the hardest questions about how it's not possible to die and come back to life, how i watched them pull his body out of the tomb this morning. i even had the guts and went as far as to write it on the chalkboard during sunday school. they kicked me out. the teacher told me i couldn't write that and i wouldn't be allowed back in class if i wrote another cruel or insensitive comment again. i vividly remember her saying to me "one day, you'll find God."

i was 9 years-old. i turned 21 on the 10th of september. it has been 12 years since my sunday school teacher said that to me and guess what, i still haven't found God!

i haven't found God in a man, certainly not in a woman either if i haven't found God in a man. i'm bound to greater chances in finding God in a woman. i haven't found God in the most beautiful places, where the trees dance elaborate dances with the wind singing and orchestrating them. not even as i watch the most ethereal waves hug the sand covered ground, their love so passionate they demand to be touched. i haven't found God in even the happiest, most stable moments of my life.

i can't see Him. i'm blind to his presence, but everyone else doesn't seem to be so what the fuck am i missing? what is everyone else seeing that i can't? my family, so awe-struck in love with God and his scriptures. my environment, filled with awe-stricken humans who are madly in love with God.

what does everyone know that i don't? what can everyone feel that i can't feel? why am i amongst the blind? i don't really care about the man, and i can't even bring myself to want to believe, so why do i long for this so badly? why do i long for comfort that is not promised, that is made up?

we stopped going to church shortly after that easter sunday. not because of my strong opinions, we just stopped. did my dad stop believing? did my family stop believing? this made my suspicions solidify. God wasn't there.

i am a Godless woman living amongst God drunken people.

#poetry #core #religious trauma #writerscommunity #core core #melancholy posting

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undiscovered-element · 1 year

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Chapter three- Masks and scars

"The hours you were in your deep sleep, Vessel in turn didn't close his eyes for a second tonight. He took the exact same path from the bathroom to the couch, just spent long minutes staring at his reflection in the mirror counting every scar on his body, some were a sweet gift of sleep to him, their marks as a receptacle, a sweet and painful reminder that that body once weak and mortal, now a sacred place of Sleep no longer of Vessel or rather of the man that he once was.

-Do you usually look at yours too?-His voice right behind him made him cringe suddenly, until then he was completely alone and lost in his own thoughts.

-You should be in bed

-Well, I say the same to you. But by the way, how did you get hurt so bad? They are practically open.

-"Bar fights"-a quickly thought-out answer, he knew your curiosity and he knew your questions wouldn't end there.

-Vessel please unless they threw knives in your back these wouldn't be bar fights marks. Can I help you with that?

Guilt and fear tortured the mind of the man who had his back to you in such a vulnerable situation for a being like him. Vessel didn't risk closing his eyes to not have a painful encounter with Sleep, yes he was running away from his God and the other vessels.

He was putting his will above Sleep's right now, and his will was…you? He knew he would be punished for this, new cracks in his body, more crushed bones, more muffled screams in the dead of night, more headaches, but in a way wasn't that a good thing? Inspiration from him would surface for more Sleep worship lyrics, it would be worth something later, Sleep always makes it count.

-Vessel? - his hand reaches his back letting a pained moan escape that worries her.

-Go to sleep

His voice cracked, even the fact that he said so much, Sleep was starting to take a toll. It wasn't allowed, his voice didn't belong to him, his body and mind would be nothing without his God, and his blessed voice could only be used for worship. With the other vessels talking through thoughts was possible, however with you... an attempt at communication like theirs was capable of harming you.

His touch above the scars was light, there was some care in that. At first iii always tried to help Vessel with bandages, or whatever was needed after the rituals, when he was exhausted, needing a long rest. But now it wasn't iii's hands that touched the sensitive area, it was his and he could ask for that sensation to stay for hours on his skin, it was like an angelic touch under the skin of a sinner, he needed that, after all it was his plan from the start to have you for him, however wrong and treacherous that might have been for his purpose in life.

Finally he turns to face you, you had already gotten used to the object on his face, and you could swear that behind that mask there was some expression in that man's eyes. That same scene was repeated, the breathing of both aligned, the sudden attraction that he made you feel in those moments was extremely unconscious but in a way it held her like a prey.

You wanted to be the prey."

Your eyes widen in astonishment as your body spasms in bed, you couldn't believe you dreamed of something like this, a twinge of headache actually made you more lucid. What the fuck was that? Were you giving into the unknown so passively? The feeling of concern for him so real, so cruel and at the same time so sweet. But it was just a dream, and you on the one hand were grateful for it, at least at that moment.

"I have a space in your mind that I never imagined I could get so easily. This just proves how right I am to say that you are mine, you are my new obsession, my new adoration, the air I want to breathe, and there are still doubts that I will make you mine? The answer is obvious lamb, I will spare no effort, I will give my blood, flesh and bones if necessary"

#sleep token #sleep token vessel #vessel #sleep token iv #sleep token iii #vessel×reader #vessel sleep token #sleep token band #sleeptoken×reader #sleeptokenii #sleep token the summoning #fanfic

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flipping-the-coin · 9 months

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[Audio file: #002 - Orion Pax]

[Audio file of Optimus Prime: Security level = PRIME]

[Authorization detected… Confirmed]

[Audio playback commencing… Recording begins]

═════════════════

Where to begin with this subject matter… Orion Pax is, simply put, my host. That can have many meanings, so to define our terms, allow me to explain what exactly being a host entails.

To be a host to a Prime is a complicated situation that traditionally was always accepted by choice, usually by religious or ambitious mecha. Worthy mecha would willingly bear the Matrix, knowing that their duty would be to serve as Sire, guide, and moral compass for the newly forged Prime. Their frames would be given up to the new Prime to inhabit, and they would remain alongside their charge, teaching, guiding, and offering comfort in the manner of a regular Caretaker. They would then spend the remainder of their functioning tending to the Prime as a gentle whisper and voice of reason. Now on the surface that may sound harsh, but to those prepared to accept the burden, it is not the worst of fates. They knew what they chose, and in taking on the role, the Prime Sires gained incredible influence.

To elaborate on that statement, accepting the burden is to have a being such as myself forged in the image of the supplicant. That alone ensures that the Prime Sire is never forgotten as their face and their frame are made effectively immortal in being tied to the divine. To add to that, by being a Prime Sire, the host is offered the unique opportunity to directly influence the entirety of Cybertron through their charge. I often think the hosts of old Primes forgot their influence. I know that when I was young, if Orion had asked me for anything that didn’t go against my direct orders, I would have given it to him in a nanoklik. Even in such an instance, if he had been softer, kinder, and more convincing rather than aggressive, he might have even been able to have me see his point of view and cease my attacks against Megatron.

The hosts of Primes have more influence than any other. In fact, it is so extreme as to even leave me baffled. My circumstances are rather unique in that I am well aware something went wrong with my creation and upbringing. But the memories of my predecessors have told me quite clearly, that normally, the Prime adores their Sire more than any other mortal. That piece of information would explain why none save for myself have ever attempted to raise sparklings or take a Conjunx. They simply had no need with their host offering all the emotional comfort they could ever need. If I recall correctly, an Earth quote encapsulates the situation better than I ever could.

“The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.”

With all that said, Orion Pax was meant to be one such Prime Sire. Normally he would have been made aware of his situation long before accepting the mantle of being a host to a Prime. However… I have learned in recent cycles that Alpha Trion was the one responsible for Orion’s upbringing, and due to his influence, my host never learned what he was being raised for. It was cruel of my brother to treat Orion in such a way. Orion was a tool, he was treated as little more than one step on the grand stairway leading to success. His entire life was but one part of a greater whole, one that was intended to lead to my creation.

With that in mind, my feelings toward Orion Pax are… complicated to say the least. I know what he was meant to be, I know how he was raised, yet despite that, I struggle to not feel hurt. I know it was as much my fault that things ended up the way they were as it was his. Whatever affection I held toward him in my youth was stripped from me, instead leading to cold apathy and vague concern when it came to my host. I did not listen to him or his pleas, and so he punished me for it. I could not understand him, I was incapable of comprehending until it was far too late to change.

He fought for that which he loved just as I did. Our desires merely conflicted, and in turn led to agony for both of us. He wanted to be returned to Megatron, to have his frame restored to him, and to be able to live in a world where all are equal and free. I wanted to fulfill my duty, to protect my people, and to one cycle earn the right to have a life of my own, one not tied to all of Cybertron. Neither of us were granted our desires, not until now, and not in full. We could not speak, so I could not hear him when he tried to explain himself. I could feel no love for him as my Sire, so I did not heed his discomfort and suffering until it affected me. I could not access his memory which showed his darker past, so I saw no reason to listen to his cries for mercy when I was able to comprehend them.

Without communication, we both spiraled. We could not speak. We could not understand the other. We could not feel the agony we both endured. Because of this… we only hurt each other more. I kept him locked within me, desperate to fulfill my duty and be done with the wretched existence that haunted me. He in turn did all he could to make my life a living torment, constantly wracking my frame with agony in every conceivable form and punishing me for the slightest joy I found amidst the sorrow.

Part of me does not blame him. He was just as much a victim as I was in this grand scheme. But a selfish and more bitter part of me… a part of my spark I would never allow others to see…

That part of me resents him. That small shard of my being desperately wants him to love me, to care for me, and to give me affection for my good works. He has never once offered me such love or empathy. He has not cared to hear my side of things or to understand my position in our situation. He does not care for the fact that if I had given up the frame I inhabited for him to control… I would have been left trapped in a far worse place than he was. I would have had no voice, I am near certain he would have buried me deep and subjected me to suffering of his and Megatron’s spark merges. He would have hurt me and never let me be with the one I hold most dear. He would have taken all I am and stripped it from me, forever leaving me stranded alone, in the dark…

It is difficult to express my fears, especially since I know what I am. I was born of an unwanted union and my life built upon a throne of lies. I feared that if I let him gain control… he would tear everything down and I would cease to be, my memory wiped from reality. Was it so wrong for me to wish to live? I never once had a life… not really. I was born into duty and agony and was not given a taste of what it meant to be free. Orion Pax did not fare much better, but he had a time, a short moment where he could experience that bliss. I know how selfish and uncaring that sounds, but I want to live too. I want to have what he has and to know myself and what I want.

He hurt me. He tortured me for four million years and claimed it all to be my own doing. I know what he endured, I know what he suffered, and I know that the way I see it is not how he views his past. For me the pains he endured are nothing. Being kept under tight constraints serving under Alpha Trion is already the fate I have been condemned to, only instead I serve the people of Cybertron. Being punished for expression is not uncommon, especially with the Matrix. Being unable to reach for any sort of passion or pleasure… is a reality I know far too well.

I understand him. I have suffered similar woes. Still he blames me. Still he says that all the death was my fault. He does not care to listen to me, he says it is because I did not heed him. He does not understand what I am or my nature. How could he? He never loved me as his creation and he never will. I may have his memory, his face, his CNA, and his knowledge. I may do all I can to please him and to meet his standards. I may offer him the stars themselves…

But he will never love me. I will never be good enough for him.

═════════════════

[Recording ends.]

#maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #transformers prime au #two sides to a coin au #two sides supplemental writing #orion pax #cybertronian culture #optimus prime #optimus prime audio files #the matrix of leadership

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nandawrites · 1 year

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A Fairy With Broken Wings

Relationship: Matthew Fairchild/Thomas Lightwood

Additional Tags: Getting Together, Break Up Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sharing secrets, Confessions, Emotional Baggage, Crying, Angst

Summary: The first time Thomas says "I love you" doesn't go as he expected.

A/N: I wrote this for a friend a long time ago and just realised I never posted it! Not sure how many people are still interested in this rare pair but I hope you all like it!

If you prefer, also read it on AO3!

~~**~~

The ticking of the clock on the wall was maddening in the silence. It set Thomas’ nerves on edge, making his leg bounce and sweat trickle down his temple as he waited for the boy by his side to say something. Matthew had opened his mouth and closed it again so many times, wriggling his discarded jacket in his hands, looking desperate, empty and half-mad, but he had yet to say something even if he had been the one that had asked to talk. It was slowly driving Thomas insane with him, heart aching with worry, but he was determined to give him as much time as he needed to be able to trust him with something that was clearly so important.

He really, really hoped Matthew wasn’t about to break up with him. He didn’t think he was, they had been happy ever since he had confessed to him. At the time, he had stammered, been unclear, but even then Matthew had told him his feelings were reciprocated, had kissed him, so now after all these weeks he had thought it was time for a proper confession. They had been alone in their club room, kissing and laughing in hushed voices, and he had felt so overwhelmedly happy he couldn’t help but say it with the full words: “I love you”.

He had dreamily expected surprise, tenderness, a kiss and a reply as soft as his confession. He hadn’t expected Matthew to freeze like a deer caught in headlights, looking panicked and guilty, and say he had something serious to tell him. He couldn’t be breaking up with him, could he? That would be extremely cruel and that was something that didn’t fit Matthew at all.

Matthew opened his mouth again, closed it, then finally said:

“You… can’t… You can’t love me.”

Thomas’ heart sank. So he was breaking up with him. But then Matthew shook his head and continued:

“Or, it’s better to say, you shouldn’t- shouldn’t love me. I don’t deserve it, and I have been awful, I’ve been pretending I could have this, when I don’t- I… I just felt so lonely, and I thought, as long as you didn’t say the words, it was ok, that you’d get tired of me eventually and go find someone better, I shouldn’t have let you do this in the first place, get stuck with me, let this go for so long, but I’m bad, I wanted to keep feeling good, but this, I can’t-, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

A sob racked out from Matthew’s throat and Thomas finally realized he hadn’t been looking at him all this time because he was hiding the tears pooling in his eyes. But it seemed that now that the first one had escaped, he couldn’t control it anymore, his voice disappearing in between the desperate, tearing, cries and the wheezes for breath even as he tried to keep apologizing. In shock, Thomas reached out to him only to be pushed away, Matthew shaking his head frantically, but the boy was beginning to double over, coughing and heaving from all the crying, so Thomas steeled himself and tried again, pulling Matthew against himself, holding him even as he struggled weakly against the embrace.

“Shhh, Mattie, it’s ok, it’s ok, it will be ok, we can-”

“No! It’s not ok! Nothing will ever be ok! I am a monster! I am a scum lower and more terrible than a demon, I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t even be allowed to exist anymore! I don’t deserve it, and I don’t deserve you, something so nice and good as you, I should have never- But I was feeling so alone, but I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Matthew!” Thomas was shocked, struggling to comprehend the meaning of the words and where they could have possibly come from. Ever since he had known Matthew, he had always been a beacon of light in the dreary society of the Nephilim, drawing everyone in and warming and helping them like the sun. They might all have the blood of angels, but Matthew was the closest thing to an actual angel on earth that he could imagine. None of the things he was saying made any sense to him, and he was petrified at the idea Matthew had been feeling so bad all this time and he had never noticed it.

“Matthew, I do not know what you mean, how could you possibly believe that. You are better than any one of us, if you are a monster then we are all damned.”

But Matthew was shaking his head again, another sob escaping him as he hid his face against Thomas now. He could feel the tears soaking through his shirt.

“I’m not, I’m, not. You don’t know. You don’t know what I did, I’m the worst, the worst, the worst, the worst. I’m the one that sh-should be dead, not her, not her.”

“Who?”

“My sister! My- The baby Mother was, was carrying. I- I killed her. And almost my mother too. It was my fault. It was all my fault. I poisoned my own mother. Killed the baby she was carrying. Broke my mother’s and my father’s spirit. I hurt them forever. Do you understand what I’m saying? I’m a monster, a murderer, it was my fault. You have been kissing a murderer, and I have been letting you, I am the lowest of lowest on all accounts, so you can’t love me. I won’t- won’t let you.”

Matthew pulled away again and this time Thomas was too petrified to stop him. His mind was simultaneously frozen and working on overdrive, trying to comprehend the confession that had just been trusted to him. He couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it, that couldn’t have just been it, there must be another or some deeper explanation, but with the way Matthew was looking so distraught… No, he wouldn’t allow the other’s panic to infect him, he had to keep a level head to understand the situation. He took a deep breath and centered himself.

“Could you tell me what happened? From the start?”

His calm seemed to startle Matthew as well, he stopped crying so hard and started sniffing, rubbing at his eyes to send the tears away. He nodded.

“I… My parents they don’t… tell me things. I thought that… because I am not serious minded or dependable like Charles Bufford, that they wouldn’t trust me with anything serious. Everyone was unhappy and tense and I could see they were hiding something from me. I thought… Thought Mama was going to leave, that she didn’t love Papa anymore, that everyone knew it but me. I wanted to know, but I couldn’t… couldn’t bring myself to ask. And I was at the Shadow Market and… this Fairy woman was selling potions, she said, she implied, she had a potion that would make people tell you the truth and I- I bought it. I put a drop of it in my mother’s scones for breakfast because I- I wanted to know. She took a bite and that was when- when she fell. And we had to call the Silent Brothers and aunt Tessa and she almost… It was my fault. It was because of the potion, it was me who- who, poisoned her, I…”

He had begun to cry again, but Thomas waited a little more, could see he wasn’t done talking.

“I thought they didn’t trust me, but I was the one that didn’t trust them. I believed something bad about them when I knew I shouldn’t, I didn’t listen to you even with all the warnings you gave me, I wasn’t open and honest with them so of course they wouldn’t be open and honest with me. I plotted and mistrusted and didn’t have faith in the people I love. If it was you- if it was any of you, this wouldn’t happen, but I’m- I’m not good. I’m not like you. So I caused this, I broke my whole family and then I lied about it, and I tricked you into, into thinking I was someone worth of your love but I’m not. I can’t lie anymore, I can’t…”

His voice got swallowed again and Thomas watched, his heart was breaking for Matthew, that had carried this secret and this pain for years now, the guilt of something that was, but wasn’t really his to bear. It was an enormous, giant guilt, and Thomas had no idea how to even begin to unravel it, how he could help fix it or make it better, but more than anything he had ever felt before in his life, he knew he had to try. Instead of diminishing, like Matthew had probably expected it would, his love for the other only grew stronger, for he had been trusted with the darkest, most shameful parts of him, and still saw the goodness in it. Matthew was his light, and he wouldn’t let it be caged by darkness any longer.

He reached out again and held the other tight against him, firm, but gentle. The promise of a rock that could share the weight of his sin and wear on it until it was gone. The promise of support and understanding and love through the difficult times they would have ahead. If Matthew would let him, he would stay by his side until the end of the world. “You didn’t know… No, Matthew, listen to me, you didn’t know. You never meant for this to happen, you were tricked. Everyone can be insecure and make mistakes, that is normal. You made a mistake, but it wasn’t you that poisoned your mother, it was that fairy. She took advantage of you, of your insecurities, to cause pain and misfortune. It wasn’t your fault, please believe me, it wasn’t your fault.”

He could feel Matthew trembling and shaking his head against him, denying it, saying it was his fault, everything, but Thomas kept repeating it, over and over again. He would keep repeating it as many times as it took for Matthew to believe him, he would keep holding him for as long as he needed until he could stand back on his own feet, he would be by his side every step on the way to recovery, until his flame burned as bright as it did before. He promised.

And if he ever ran into that fairy during his life, he would make sure she had a painful slow death for what she had caused. That he also promised.

But that he didn’t say.

#fairwood #matthew fairchild #thomas lightwood #tlh #the last hours #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #fanfiction #mine #original #nanda writes #drabble #writings

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tarnishedxknight · 6 months

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Choosing not to pry into what was written on the paper, Mantis fiddled with the flower in an attempt to give Noah some space. Her innate curiosity wasn’t always well received, and Mantis knew some people were just prone to defensiveness. During their missions, the Guardians would often help injured individuals. And those injured individuals would sometimes get defensive. It was a natural response to pain. Mantis had little context about what happened to this man, she only knew what Basch told her; that their father hurt Noah. And Mantis recognized his pain because she was familiar with it herself.

She nodded her head when he asked if it would bother her to be mean. “Oh, very much so.” After Noah said that those who didn’t want to be mean were the minority, Mantis shrugged again. “I think what others choose to do is their choice. Whether the minority or majority choose to be mean or not does not have an impact on my choice. I would not be happy knowing that I made someone’s day worse… on purpose. I would feel really bad.” She wasn’t sure what Noah was trying to tell her. Was she supposed to be mean just because other people were? That was a rather strange logic. She couldn’t help but feel bad as soon as Noah started explaining how it was his right to fight. She found herself disagreeing with that statement. The way she saw it, people had the right to have a peaceful existence, but unfortunately that right was often denied to them.

Yet, he was visibly angry with those who claimed he was fragile, and the way he said they had no right to deny him the means to fight was proof of that. But then he said it again, and Mantis nodded. “I know,” she whispered in an attempt to calm him. Truthfully, she didn’t know, since planet Earth was not a place she was overly familiar with. But what she did know was that diagnosing other people without being qualified to do so was an extremely dangerous thing to do, and very few truly understood the complexities of the mind itself. But even without powers like her own, the mind could still be studied, and Noah clearly thought these professionals weren’t qualified enough. Or maybe he thought that if they were, they still didn’t have the right to tell him what he didn’t want to hear.

She lifted her gaze from the petals back to him when he asked if she had some sort of special attachment to flowers and that they seemed to make her happy. Quill had told her horrifying tales about people of Earth who would sell flowers that looked real but were plastic, so it made her happy to see that these flowers were real. “I like them very much. They have a nice smell, they are beautiful, and they are delicious. But more than that, they were my only friends during my childhood… unless characters from fairytales and books count,” she said in a light-hearted attempt at a joke. Her smile faltered, though. “I admire their strength. They get stepped on, they wither, they die. But they also grow back. I do not like them because they make me happy. Quite the contrary. I like them because they are there for me when I am sad.” That was why she loved the Guardians, too. Something Mantis had learned after a lifetime with her murderous father was that letting her happiness depend on others was a mistake. She loved the Guardians, not because they made her happy, but because she was allowed to be sad around them. They would still accept her, they would comfort her, wake her up from her nightmares, they would offer her a shoulder to cry on. She loved them all.

“It is admirable that you held such an impressive rank,” she said; she had no idea what a Judge Magister was, but it seemed important. Mantis held the flower with both hands below her chin, eyes wide with excitement, curiosity and wonder. From what Noah had said about learning to be a soldier, Mantis knew she was talking to an excellent fighter. She was a pacifist, but she knew the galaxy was cruel, and she wanted to become strong to protect her friends. “Do you think I could fight as well as you do one day?” Mantis asked, despite the fact that she already was an expert at the martial arts Gamora taught her back when she was still alive. Mantis waited for the answer, beaming.

__________

Noah found this person very interesting, if not a little frustrating. She had a strange way of looking at the world, as if she were doing just that, looking, observing, instead of actually living in it. She seemed to be very detached, looking at things so objectively as if they were all outside of herself. She was as an individual staring at life around her and analyzing the movements of the participants, as one would stand before a tank of fish. It was very curious to Noah, who lived life in exactly the opposite manner. He was touched, influenced, affected, and changed by everything and everyone around him, moving through life immersed completely in it at all times, unable to disconnect from it emotionally. He could pretend that he was not engaged, and do it well, but always, always he was.

“Worrying about oneself is probably best,” Noah said. “One cannot control the behavior of others, after all, only themself.” It was a semi-wise thing to say, but for the fact that Noah really didn’t follow the very advice he was supposedly giving credence to. Some people did not have the luxury of thinking only about themselves and their own behavior, though, and for the past twenty years, Noah had sustained in his mind the needs, likes, dislikes, preferences, differences, statuses, ranks, social standings, ambitions, motivations, dreams, grudges, petty grievances, abilities, moralities, potentials, allegiances, rivalries, and usefulness of hundreds of people, from the lowest ranking soldier he commanded all the way up to the His Eminence the Emperor of Archadia himself.

As the subject shifted to flowers, Noah was unsurprised to hear that she did, in fact, like flowers, because they smelled nice and were pretty. All of that was very normal. When she said they were delicious, however, his head canted a bit. “Your species consumes flowers as food?” he asked curiously. “I am not familiar with your kind,” he quickly added, in case she was wondering why he would bother to ask, “but I have known other races in my time who considered flowers food as well. One, in particular, fried and candied them before eating them.” They had been a race of furry creatures who lived in the Kerwon continent. The idea of flowers being her only friends, though... that hit a little close to home. As a child in Landis, sometimes the swaying grasses on the hillsides, blown about by the winds, seemed his only friends when he would run out to the hills to sit and think alone. He didn’t comment, for he was afraid where that conversation might lead.

He seemed not to respond as she complimented him on holding the rank of Judge Magister, even as internally his ego was a bit stroked by it. He’d worked very hard to achieve it, so the fact that it seemed to mean nothing to most of the people living now was a hurtful thing to him.. Noah was more than just a little bit surprised to hear her ask if she could someday fight as well as him. Mantis was full of surprises. “Perhaps,” Noah said with a nod, suddenly unknowingly taking on an air more like a teacher or mentor, “if you have drive enough to succeed at it and are willing to work hard to learn.” His head canted in the other direction now as he studied her. “Do you wish to learn such things?” He imagined not, but she was not nearly as predictable as most people he came across in this time.

#alt muse: noah #{ the truth hurts }

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glitchdollmemoria · 9 months

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very messy rant under the cut its true schizofreak hours

extremely extremely frustrating all of it. hate knowing when i come down ill look back and realize nothing i said makes sense enough. frustrating to keep getting distracted, confused, hate it. need to talk to doctor tomorrow but scared. dont know what will happen but at this rate ill lose function. something will happen eventually. half the reason i moved out was because i knew i wasnt safe to not have treatment and never would with my father. been a year now and i havent made good on that and i owe it to myself but its terrifying. already have so much to discuss with doctors, just one more thing, "problem patient" with ten thousand problems but its their job! its their fucking job to care. trying to be a good patient who quits drugs and gets sleep and tries and tries and tries and tries more but it doesnt fix things. and is it my fault? if pot made it worse is that my fault for needing it? should i have been stronger? dont know how long its been since cutting back or last time i relapsed because i cant process time right anymore. im disconnected from time. is that my fault? my back hurts very badly and imwondering if "that time" is coming early sending everything out of balance. shouldnt be for about a week. and im losing my train of thought again and i hate it. its so hard to care about effects of diagnosis when this all hurts so much and keeps happening more and more. i think "my brain is normal" then realize absolutely not. i found a community so sweet full of new friends and they dont mind me just typing in vc chat at times but what if when my brain gets scrambled this badly? feels easy to keep in contact but if i fuck it up?? i hope not. dont think theyre that cruel. its just scary. i want to be loved as i am, loved schizotypally, loved when my words give up and i can barely think, i want to be held and kissed on the head and allowed to let my guard down when i have to patch reality together. want it to just be normal. want to be allowed to exist as i am. broken apart and confused and fragile. need someone to look at me and think, "hes still so beautiful and sweet", need to be valued beyond profit and coherence and ability. and some part of me wants to stop pushing against this, to let me be confused, to let it wash over like water, ill feel better after but for now its ok except for outside forces. it devolves into peace, but then, "what about my job? what about money? what about being liked by friends?" the death and fear and isolation of unsupport is what kills me inside and makes symptoms WORSE. its so much.almost hope im this bad at appointment so doctor knows. need her to fucking believe me. and i need to be loved and i need to stop typing and just have a bath please

#venting

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asoulofatlantis · 1 year

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The Machalania-Temple was always one of those temples were I had real trouble remembering what I had to do when I was facing the Trial but this time, it took me no time at all to get it done. I am impressed by myself. My brain is really bad at remembering things and its been AGES since I last played FFX but for some reason, this apparently has finally found its way into my long term memory XD In any case, we are getting closer to the mid-final of this game now. The difficulty will rise from here on out. But we are prepared.

This has always been one of Wakkas biggest issues. If he needed someone to blame, he blamed the AlBhed. That was the easiest way for him to deal with things he could accept or understand. Chappus death happened because he chose a machina Weapon that was made by the AlBhed and operation Migen failed because of the AlBhed Machina and everything really is the AlBheds fault in his eyes. Thankfully, he will learn his lesson soon enough. But this is, while Wakka is otherwise a nice character, something that makes you fancy him a lot less for a while.

You know whats fun? I never really noticed myself, that we were literally on Sins back this whole time. I saw a video on YouTube a while ago who explained it and proved it by showing the ruins on Sins back and all and it makes absolut sense too. But I always thought we were standing just on some random ruins beneath the temple and Sin just suddenly showed up. In truth, the reason we survived that fall, is likely because we fell on Sin, but I only see that now.

There is something motherly about Lulu and I really like that about her.

To be fair... Wakka really had it rough for a while ^^’

Both Cid and Rikku speak Spiraisch without even so much as a dialect. Brother doesn’t. Makes you wonder why...

BTW... whoever made the background-sounds for this part of the game hopefully got fired.

Even when Tidus straight out asks the question, they all keep quiet. I really think its just cruel and mean at this point. He must face the truth eventually anyway. Plus, I get the: “It was just to hard to say” - part, but wasn’t it also hard hearing Tidus talk about what happens after Sin all the time?

It took them half of the game to finally officially reveal that and it hit extremely hard. We as the player could have easily gotten the hints until then, but as I mentioned before, to hear them confirm it, is still different from just thinking that this might be the case.

Also... watching Tidus suffer. Watching him realize what he had said and done, knowing that he never had bad intentions and all, was really painful.

Who is cutting onions here? This scene always hurts my heart a bit. And I love how Valfaris looks like she understand Tidus pain and wants to comfort him, even tho he hit her in his desperation. She is one of the faith. One of them who isn’t allowed to finally find rest and over and over again for a 1000 years she had to watch summoners sacrifice themselves. So I believe she truly can understand Tidus pain and desperation.

Someone give this boy some baldrian! He needs to calm down! I understand his anger and frustration and I know that he just wants to see Yuna and apologize to her and all that, but he really needs a calm head first.

Its a bit funny... I find Tidus cool and all in that scene, but for some reason it suddenly reminds me of Rean promising to Towa and the other that Crow would come back to them so they can graduate together. I was so angry at Rean back then, because he wasn’t thinking at all when he said that. It was just his wish that that would happen, but he had not been willing to think through how that was supposed to work, given how he had been talking about a freaking terrorist who shot the chancellor. Tidus here too, is just guided by his emotions. His wishful thinking defy all logic. He doesn’t want Yuna to die, so she wont. He want to find a way, so he will. That he is facing a cycle that has been going on for 1000 years and that, if it was easy to break, would have been broken a long time ago, doesn’t even hit his stubborn head in this moment. Playing young man who are kind of still boys somehow, can be exhausting, I tell you XD (Now I finally have reached the point where I understand what Auron always meant, when he said young summoners aren’t easy and always causing trouble and stuff like that. It probably shows tho, that I am getting old XD)

Uh... I don’t think Steam can deal with this animation XD Its embarrassing, given how expensive my computer was.

#FFX Mona Version

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emmyhem · 3 years

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everything you’re missing (c.t.h)

a/n: hi everybody, i’m back with another post. this is my first calum piece and i’m so excited to finally get it up. this is once again unedited, i’m way too tired rn. it’s also the second smut i’ve posted so that’s pretty exciting as well. yeah i don’t really have much to say right now because i’m literally exhausted, my classes are really kicking my ass. anyway i hope you all enjoy this bff!calum piece. feedback and comments are always appreciated. hope you all are doing well and are being safe. thank you - emmy <33

pairing: bff!calum hood x fem!reader

summary: a drunken text meant for your ex shows up on calum’s phone and leaves him questioning everything he’s missing out on with his best friend.

warning(s): talk of a previous bad relationship, y/n’s ex body shamed her, mentions of alcohol, insecurity, smut, cursing

word count: 4.7k

You’ve decided that 3 glasses of wine is your happy medium, but even a sip into the 4th and there’s no telling what you’ll do.

So, naturally you were finishing up your 5th glass on Friday night while angrily scrolling through your exes instagram when you got what seemed to be an incredible idea. It was simply too tempting not to, your mind was feeling hazy which made your confidence skyrocket, and you truly did just look good.

A day of pampering had left you in a black floor length silk robe with nothing but your favorite deep cherry red lingerie set underneath. Your face was bare and glowing after a refreshing and illuminating face mask, and your lips were left glossy and plump from a new scrub.

You had posed in front of the floor length mirror in your living room, giggling between snaps until you had taken the perfect shot. It was classy but provocative, the dressing gown slipping from your shoulders exposing the lace of your bra and a tasteful amount of cleavage. You had also left the bottom open, allowing a clear shot of your thighs and the curve of your ass from where you sat on your knees.

With a mischievous glint in your eyes you selected the picture into a message, typing a cheeky, “take a good look at everything you’re missing” and sending it off to your ex (or so you thought).

But you really couldn’t be blamed for your mistake, Cam and Cal were far too similar for your drunk brain to decipher the difference. You also couldn’t be blamed for the fact that you dozed off on the couch immediately after sending it, before you even had a chance to recognize your humiliating mistake.

You were awoken by the ringing of your phone at around 9:00 am, way too early for your liking. Before even registering who it was, you brought the phone to your ear and groaned a sleepy, “hello,”

“At your door.” a voice you recognized as your best friend responded.

“M’coming” you said, scooting off the couch. On your way to the door you registered that you were still scantily covered, the robe falling off of you as you walked. You clutched it around you as you swung the door open to a wide eyed, Calum Hood.

“G’morning.” he smirked, looking you up and down.

“Shh” you hushed, pulling him in by the arm. “Why in the world are you here so early?”

He lightly laughed while taking a seat at the kitchen table, eyes following you while you moped over to the fridge and pulled out two water bottles.

“Well,” he sighed as you handed him one. “I got a very interesting text last night and I figured I just had to come over and see, y’know everything I was missing.” he spoke in a teasing tone as he gestured a hand down your body.

You tugged your eyebrows together in confusion. There was something familiar about what he was saying, but not familiar enough for you to put the pieces together.

“What are you talking about?” you questioned bringing the water bottle to your lips.

Calum shrugged his shoulders, a smirk still glued to his face as he took out his phone and began looking for something. After a few seconds he extended his arm to hand you his phone. You accepted it and glanced down absentmindedly as your body slumped against the counter.

The second your eyes hit the screen it all came back to you, your mouth fell open and you straightened out, suddenly very awake, not to mention very mortified.

Calum on the other hand was buzzing. Actually, he had been ever since his phone dinged last night awakening him from his sleep. Well, buzzing and extremely, extremely sexually frustrated.

When he first opened your message and saw the picture that would now be making a regular appearance in his wet dreams, he had nearly choked on his own breath. He knew that it was most likely a drunken mistake, and while that slightly saddened him it didn’t stop his dick from plumping up at the sight, straining uncomfortably against his boxers. He seriously debated wanking to the tempting image but decided against it, thinking it would be a gross violation of your privacy since it wasn’t even meant for him. Oh how he wished it was. Unfortunately that meant he had been sporting an exceptionally sensitive halfie since then.

“Oh my god.” you groaned, sitting the phone down on the counter and covering your eyes in humiliation. “Cal I’m soooo sorry, I was drunk, and overly confident, and I meant to send this to Cam and now I’m just, I’m sorry.” you reiterated.

‘Hey, don’t apologize on my account.” he countered. “Plus, you should be thrilled you sent it to me and not that asshole, doesn’t deserve ya.”

“I know, you’re right. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m mortified though. S’bit ridiculous, get a little alcohol in my system and I have a god complex all of a sudden” you rambled, running your hands through your hair nervously.

Calum stood and pulled you into his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“You think too much, y’know that?” he quipped.

You turned your head, pressing a cheek against his sweater clad chest and mumbled, “Yea I’ve been known for that.”

Calum softly chuckled at your words before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head and pulling apart.

“S’really no big deal, y/n.” a teasing grin plastered on his face. “Besides I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it.”

“Calum!” you scolded, swatting a hand at his arm.

He dodged your hit just in time and held his hands up in surrender before taking his seat again.

“Why'd you let that dick bother you anyway? Y’know you’re way out of his league.”

Your jaw clenched at the question, your mind wandering to every time you had come to Calum crying after your ex had done something to hurt you. Everytime he commented on your “stomach pudge” as he liked to call it, when you wore a tight dress to go out. Or when he would ask if you were really “that” hungry, even if you hadn’t eaten much at all. And each time you would feel absolutely wretched and end up sobbing in Calum’s arms, but refusing to tell him why you were so, so sad.

“He texted me the other day y’know?” you muttered under your breath, while fiddling with the coffee machine.

“Really? What’d he say?” Calum responded, watching your back with narrowed eyes.

“Uh, he saw me the other night, when we were at that bar with the guys.” you said, shaky fingers pulling out a mug.

“And?” he spoke flatly.

“It’s stupid really,” you sniffled, willing your voice not to break. “He said I put on a few pounds, that he was glad he got out when he did.” your bottom lip traitorously jutted out as you turned to face him.

“Fucking dick.” he hissed.

Calum wasn’t necessarily proud of the violent images that flashed through his mind at the thought of that asshole finding yet another way to hurt you but, the sad little quiver of your lip allowed him to reason without a doubt that they were fair.

Before you could even blink he was holding you again, arms impossibly tight around you. .

“He’s wrong, y/n. Fuck, I don’t know how to even...he’s just so wrong.” he said softly, his hand rubbing your back reassuringly.

“I know.” you whimpered, holding tears back.

He pulled back enough to look you in the eyes, arms still firm around your waist.

“No you don’t. It’s...It really fucking pisses me off that he makes you feel like this. It’s like-fuck you’re just like-” he moved his hands to cup your cheeks. “You really are gorgeous.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and your whole body felt warm as you stared at his big brown eyes. His words felt sincere, everything about him felt so sincere.

“Thank you, Cal.”

He pulled you back into his chest, “Really wish I could just, like hug away all his bullshit.”

“M’used to it.” you mumbled.

“You don’t deserve any of it.”

“Yea, well what can you do.” you sighed, moving out of his embrace.

Calum’s eyes were still glued to you as you stirred a spoonful of sugar in your coffee.

“I hope you don’t let anything he says get to you.”

You let out a breath of exhaustion.

Confidence wasn’t something that you used to struggle with. I mean sure, there were spouts of insecurity here and there but you knew your worth, and you considered yourself pretty, hot even. That had all changed a few months into your latest relationship. First it was the backhanded compliments which quickly turned into passive comments, and then outright cruel insults. People really underestimate the toll their words take on others, especially when the person that’s making you feel so ugly and worthless, is one that you adore and who’s supposed to adore you right back, no matter what.

“I try but, he can’t just be making it all up.” you were ashamed. When did you become the girl that lets a guy affect how she sees herself? That just wasn’t you.

“He is. He’s insecure and a douche. He was probably trying to destroy your confidence to the point that you felt like you couldn’t leave him.” Calum assured. “But you’re way too strong for him, dumped his sorry ass anyway.”

You smiled gratefully at his words, taking a seat next to him.

“Yea, so strong I tried to send him half naked pictures for reassurance.”

Calum shook his head, “I wish you could see how hot you are.”

Your eyes widened at the compliment, your head dropping to avoid his stare as blood rushed to your cheeks.

“I’d be happy to reassure you whenever you want.” he continued, bumping his knee against yours under the table.

“Doesn’t count.” you dismissed, before sipping your coffee. “You're my best friend, you’re obligated to tell me I’m pretty.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.” he muttered back quietly, his expression dropping slightly. He hated when you deflected his compliments. All he ever wanted to do was make you feel good, and you made it very difficult for him when you blocked every swing he took at the wall of insecurity that Cam had built around you. He would kill Cam if he could.

You let out an apologetic sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder.

“M’sorry, you’re right. I love you for that, the only thing keeping me sane.”

Your heart squeezed as he hugged you back.

Calum was perfect, he was sweet, and funny, and quite literally your favorite person on earth. Not to mention you had been hopelessly in love with him since practically the beginning of your friendship. But as his best friend you had heard over and over just how uninterested he was in a relationship. Everytime you would ask about his love life he would just respond,

“I’m just not the boyfriend type, m’not cut out for it.” shrugging nonchalantly.

Which you thought was laughable because anyone would be lucky to have him as a boyfriend, in fact sometimes you would let yourself pretend he was yours.

Like,in a busy club with his hands on your hips, guiding you through the crowds. So close behind, you could feel each exhale on the back of your neck, as his eyes darted around the room to ensure there weren’t any potential threats to your safety, in the form of drunk overzealous flirts. Or after a night out when he got cuddly and clingy, and would find his way from the couch into your bed. You’d wake up with his cheek pressed against your chest and his arms snaked around your torso as he released soft breaths that caused goosebumps to rise on your exposed skin. You’d let yourself imagine that you had this every morning and that he would wake up any minute to smother your face in kisses and tell you he loved you. And of course, here he was again this morning being so thoughtful and kind and everything you wanted in a boyfriend. And here you were again swimming in his praises and physically having to restrain yourself from kissing him.

Begrudgingly, you pulled away and stood up.

“Gonna get changed.” you spoke.

“I’m making us breakfast.” Calum called as you walked away. You hummed in response and slipped into your room.

Once in the privacy of your own room you quickly pulled on a pair of leggings and a hoodie before scurrying to the bathroom sink and splashing cold water on your face in hopes of ridding yourself of any romantic thoughts towards your best friend.

Although you weren’t aware, Calum was doing the very same thing just a few feet away. Internally reminding himself repeatedly that it was never gonna happen with you. He wasn’t good enough to be anyone’s boyfriend, let alone yours. You didn’t want him that way and he could almost trick himself into believing that he was okay with that.

You hastily finished brushing your teeth before returning to the kitchen. You were greeted with the sight of Calum’s back, he stood over the toaster cutting an avocado and humming a song you didn’t recognize quietly to himself. He looked over his shoulder as your footsteps approached.

“Hungry?” he questioned.

“You have no idea.” you affirmed, as he fixed a plate for you both.

“Good. I was thinking we could watch something while we eat,”

“Fine with me.” you responded, hoping he wouldn’t notice the distraction laced in your voice. Your focus had easily been stolen from the conversation to how easy it was to see his back muscles flex through the thin material of his jumper.

But of course he did, it was Calum after all.

“Y’alright?” he said, handing you a plate.

“Uh, yep.” you rushed out.

“Not still thinking about Cam, are you?”

“No, not at all.” you answered honestly, walking to the couch, Calum trailing closely behind you.

“Then what’s got you all flustered?”

“You” you thought, taking a seat in the furthest corner.

“I’m not flustered.”

“Bullshit” he countered, sitting practically on top of you.

You let out a huff, and motioned to the other completely empty side of the couch.

“Is there a reason we aren’t practicing personal space right now?”

He laughed softly at your question and nuzzled closer into your side.

“Yea, you’re all pouty, looks like you need a cuddle.”

“I’m really fine Cal.” you shoved him lightly but saw no results, he just scooched in even closer and bit into his toast.

The two of you sat in silence while some newly released action movie played on your TV. Calum’s arm was wrapped around your shoulders keeping you tight to his side, and although you could’ve sworn that you had been in this exact same position hundreds of times, you felt as if this were the very first time. Every single one of your nerves were on fire and the warmth that had flooded your body was making you antsy.

Feeling overwhelmed by your senses, you allowed your eyes to flutter close with a deep inhale.

“You okay?” Calum whispered, dipping his head down slightly to reach your ear.

You opened your mouth to respond but didn’t trust your voice to protrude through your shaky exhales, settling for a subdued nod instead.

“You sure?” his words were long and drawled out, despite your eyes being closed you knew his proximity from the feeling of his breath just behind your ear.

Before you could speak up his hand secured itself just above your knee, and your muscles flexed involuntarily at the contact.

“Relax, y/n” he continued, his thumb beginning to run repeatedly over a spot on your inner knee.

Everything in your brain was screaming at you to excuse yourself, maybe even kick him out, anything to gain some space and hopefully some clarity from the cloud of sexual tension that was looming over the two of you and blurring boundaries at lightning speed. But you were essentially frozen in place, petrified that any movement would alert Calum to the way he was affecting you.

Your head lolled back to rest on his forearm which was lying behind you on the couch and finally peeled your eyes open, staring up at the ceiling.

He watched you from the corner of his eye, taking note of every rise and fall of your chest, every thick swallow of your throat.

If there was one thing Calum was well versed in, it was his ability to read you, he liked to think he knew you better than anyone else in the world. He could tell exactly how you were feeling just by watching you, your face, your breathing and he was more than shocked when he started getting the feeling you were no longer upset but something far more appealing.

Were you turned on? Right here in his presence? The thought made blood rush to his dick, which twitched in his pants when another breathy sigh passed your lips.

“What’re you thinking about, love?”

Everything in you urged you to answer honestly, just tell him the truth. “You, I’m thinking about you. I’m always thinking about you.” But you couldn’t do that, so instead you deflected.

“What’re you thinking about?” you countered, meeting his eyes.

Calum questioned his next words very carefully, debating whether or not he could recover if he was wrong about what you were feeling and you shut him down. It was pointless though, he knew he would never recover from your rejection. He also knew that spontaneous combustion wouldn’t look very good on his tombstone and that’s exactly what would happen if he spent one more minute not kissing you.

Fuck it.

“That pretty little set you had on last night.” he confessed.

That you weren’t expecting.

A quiet whine rang from your throat and you were far too affected to feel embarrassed.

And that did it, Calum was now impossibly hard in his pants, no doubt leaking precum onto his boxer briefs. He needed to get his hands on you, now.

His hand started to slowly travel up your thigh, goosebumps rising on every centimeter they passed.

“So gorgeous in red, aren’t ya y/n?”

“Cal,” you hissed when his thumb brushed the sensitivity of your inner thigh.

“Mm.” he hummed. “It’d be pretty hard fo’me to stop right now, but I will if that’s what you want. Is that what you want, love?”

He was sure he’d cry if he had to let go of you now, but he needed to hear you say it.

“No, don’t wanna stop.” you whined, turning your body flush to his.

“Whaddya want then, baby? Hm?” You could feel his every word on the flushed skin of your neck as he leaned into the crook.

“Want you.”

He could’ve came then and there.

“Then I’m all yours.” he admitted before crashing his lips on yours.

Your heart was in your stomach as his tongue entered your mouth, explorative and eager. He was too busy memorizing your taste to notice your fingers tugging at his sweater. You attempted to push it up desperate to feel his skin under your hands. You were able to pull the fabric up about halfway before they were blocked by his arms that were holding you close against him.

Calum laughed when you pulled apart from the kiss, giving him a disappointed look.

“Want it off?” he teased.

You couldn’t bother to be embarrassed when you nodded eagerly in response. He didn’t waste any time peeling the fabric off of his skin, and you were quick to lightly run a finger across the ink feather just below his collarbone.

Now it was his turn to tug on your clothes, “Level the playing field?”

You nodded, lifting your arms and allowing him to lift the sweatshirt over your head leaving your chest completely bare. Calum groaned at the sight of your tits, his hands quickly finding your waist and tugging you down to lay on your back in one swift motion.

Once you were laid out in front of him he took the opportunity to explore the new skin. His hands left a lingering warmth as they dragged across your stomach and despite the kind words and endearing demeanor that he always upheld with you, you found yourself shying under his gaze, wanting to curl away from him. As your hands began to wrap around your stomach in an attempt to cover yourself up he quickly pushed them away, locking them in place on either side of you.

“Wanna see everything baby, all of you.” he cooed in your ear before nipping at the lobe.

His kisses began to travel down your neck, sucking a few marks to your collar bones and the surrounding areas. When his fingers grazed over a fresh bruise in the dip just between your neck and shoulders you hissed lightly.

“You look so pretty marked up for me. All mine, aren’t you baby? Not Cam’s, mine. Say it.”

“Yours, Cal.” you admitted, feeling your body sink further into the couch. You had never felt drunk off of someone’s words before and the experience was leaving you sputtering, completely compliant to your best friend.

He hummed contently at your confession, his large hands gripping at your hips, before slowly peeling your leggings off.

“Y’feel so good in my hands, like you were made for me.” his thumbs poking at the soft skin, just beneath your panties.

The feeling of his hands so close to where you needed them, but not quite there was driving you crazy.

“Cal, please.” you begged.

He groaned before tugging at the cotton covering you. “Cam’s a fucking idiot, y’know that? He had the prettiest girl in the world and treated her like shit. I’d never do that, wanna worship you baby.”

It was ridiculous how overwhelmed his words were leaving you, all desperate and squirming. As his fingers met the soaked expanse of your cunt you couldn’t hold back the throaty moan it elicited.

A pornographic sigh followed close behind, one that made Calum want to pinch himself to ensure he wasn’t in the midst of a haunting dream.

“Soaked f’me darling.” he mused, running his fingers up and down your folds to completely coat you in your arousal. You whimpered at the feeling, bucking your hips up desperate for friction.

Tutting while shaking his head, he used one hand on your lower stomach to press you back down to the couch.

“Stay still for me won’t you, love?” he cooed, continuing to run his fingers over your core lightly.

When you bobbed your head up and down in agreement he lifted your leg to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your calf.

“Hm, good girl.” he praised, softly laying your leg back down.

Calum hovered above you, dipping his head down every so often to peck at your chest, his fingers still unrelenting. The knot in your lower stomach tightened every second that passed and you felt like you could scream at any second, yearning to be full.

Calum felt like he could burst any minute himself but was determined to make this experience the best of your life. He wanted to give you something to remember, a reason to want more.

Your soft moans and frustrated grunts alerted him to your neediness and he was just about ready to give in for the both of you.

“What do you need from me, baby?” he said against your shoulder before peppering kisses across your collar bones.

You could only respond with an airy moan when his fingers found your clit.

“Hm? My fingers?” You shook your head aggressively. He knew exactly what you wanted, the tease.

“No? Want my mouth?” he teased further, leaving an opened mouth kiss in between your tits.

“Cal,” you sighed. “Fuck me, please.”

He groaned at your words, nipping lightly at the skin before ridding himself of his pants.

“You’re a fucking dream, y’know that?” he praised, desperately searching for a condom in his pants. When he finally located one he held it up to you as if it were a prized possession, smiling proudly at his own preparedness.

He hastily freed himself from the constraints of his boxers and rolled the condom on, never once taking his eyes off of the blissful expression on your face.

“Ready?” he questioned, his tip lightly pressing at your entrance. You nodded and sucked in a breath, bracing yourself for the stretch, your eyes falling closed in the process.

When a few seconds went by and nothing happened you opened your eyes to find Calum staring down at you in awe.

“Cal,” you whined. “what’re you doing?”

Your words seemed to break him from his trance, he shook his head and muttered an apology to you.

“Sorry, fuck you’re pretty. You’ve got no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

“Then stop waiti-” your words were cut off by a sharp hiss that couldn’t have been prevented as his length finally pressed into you.

“Fuck.” Calum groaned his head falling back. You felt too good around him, seriously he was fucked, completely ruined for you.

You felt the exact same as your silky moans filled the room. You had never been filled this good and you questioned how you had gone so long without this.

“M-move” you sighed, clenching around him.

You could hear his breath catch at the feeling and he grunted out a strained, “Need a minute.”

He held himself in place for a few more seconds until his breaths began to even out once again before pulling nearly all the way out and slamming back in.

You yelped, pulling your lip between your teeth in hopes to drown the sound.

He continued slamming into you at an unrelenting pace, taking notice of each time your eyes would roll back when he brushed against your g-spot. He could write a book about how good you looked all fucked for him.

As his thrusts grew closer together you could feel your release creeping up on you.

“Cal, need’ta cum.” you stuttered out.

His hands tightened around your hips, pulling you even closer to him as his head poked at that spot again.

“Go on baby, let go.” he encouraged, willing himself to hold out a little longer as your walls fluttered around him.

Once you had came it only took him about three more thrusts before he was painting the condom with his release, groaning your name as his hand searched for yours to intertwine them as he came down from his own high.

His body flopped next to yours on the couch, both of you struggling to fit next to each other in such a small space, not that either of you minded the close quarters.

Your fingers remained laced together as you caught your breath, Calum peppering kisses to your shoulder and mumbling praises into your skin.

“You’re an angel. God, I just- I love you.” he said, causing your head to snap in his direction.

He looked like a deer in headlights when you asked for him to repeat himself.

“I love you?” he obliged.

“Is it a question?”

“No, I’m just not used to saying it.” he admitted, vulnerability clear in his eyes.

You wanted to kiss away the worried crease in his forehead but instead pressed your lips to his, pulling apart a fraction of an inch to speak after a few seconds.

“I love you too.” you ensured.

Calum eyes widened, not expecting you to say it back, at least not so soon. He had so much he wanted to say to you but figured all of it could be summed up by another kiss to your soft lips. So he closed the distance once again, using a bit more force this time in hopes it would convey the strength of his feelings for you.

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caelestis-composition · 3 years

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killshot anon! YEAH i totally agree w/ your view on kaeya. it's so weird to me that people will blame him for his role in a situation he was forced into as a child through no choice of his own. that itself had to be traumatic, not to mention everything that happened later. i hate when people say he's untrustworthy - like yeah, he's lied, so has everyone? it's clear he does it mostly to protect himself. not to mention that (& sadism) can be symptoms of trauma. kaeya deserves nothing but happiness

take a seat folks it’s time for a “brynn should’ve been an english major” lesson! today we’re gonna learn some literary theory; specifically, we’re gonna apply psychoanalytical trauma theory to kaeya’s backstory and current character. killshot anon i bet you never thought this would result in a whole ass essay.

disclaimer one! you are allowed to dislike kaeya! i am not saying you need to like him or his character, you’re entitled to your opinion and i’m not here to change your mind.

disclaimer two! i am in no way an expert and this is all for fun! this is just my silly little analysis of one of my favorite characters as someone who’s studied literary theory and rhetoric and can also apply personal experience. seriously analysis is like a hobby to me and this is just an excuse for me to ramble about kaeya.

disclaimer three! this contains lots of spoilers! basically for everything we know in-game, general knowledge as well as stuff from his voicelines and character story. don’t read this if you don’t want spoilers.

since this is going to be filled with spoilers and is about to get really long, everything will be under a cut. for those who wanna read my dumb super informal essay: enjoy!

final note: yeah this is over 2000 words long can you tell i like analysis

⭒

let’s start by getting a quick rundown of trauma theory out of the way. to begin, what is “trauma?” in this case, trauma is going to refer to an experience that greatly affects and changes one’s life; attitudes, memories, behaviors, mental state, etc. while not all changes may be bad, per se, the overall effect of trauma is generally a negative one, which is why it’s so significant. literary trauma theory, then, explores these changes and the impact of trauma in literature. it analyzes the psychological and social effects of trauma, explaining what those effects are and why they happen. in the context of a specific character, trauma theory breaks down said character’s behaviors, feelings, and general mentality in relation to their past experiences; trauma theory hopes to explain to others the reasons for why a character may act or feel the way they do, all based upon the character’s experiences, particularly traumatic ones. our character today is the lovely kaeya alberich, with the “literature” being genshin impact. i’ll be referencing kaeya’s wiki page to ensure i get all details correct for his character story and voicelines.

it would be good to review kaeya’s backstory before delving into the actual analysis. though we don’t know much about his life before living in mondstadt, we’re told he was sent as an agent of khaenri’ah. and by “sent,” i mean his biological father abandoned him in a completely unfamiliar land to serve khaenri’ah’s interests and fullfil his mission—what this entirely entails hasn’t been revealed. mondstadt, however, welcomed kaeya “with open arms when they found him.” crepus ragnvindr took him in as his adopted son, with diluc as his adopted brother. kaeya and diluc were “almost like twins,” so close they “[knew] each other’s thoughts and intentions without a word.” he’d began a new life in mondstadt, one surrounded by friends and family that loved him; one that was completely shattered by crepus’s death. kaeya arrived at the scene of the disaster, and was led to believe diluc was the one who killed their father to “set his father free” from the effects of his delusion. there’d always been one big question in kaeya’s life: if it came down to it, who would he support? the nation that abandoned him, but he still felt loyal to, or the nation and family that took him in and really loved him? overrun with guilt, kaeya confessed his purpose to diluc, sparking a fight between the two brothers. in this fight, kaeya receives his cryo vision. though both brothers stepped away alive, they’ve never been able to make peace with one another. now, kaeya is the eccentric and charming cavalry captain of the knights of favonius; a man who gets his way by using any means necessary, regardless of whether or not it seems right.

kaeya’s not evil; he’s morally ambiguous, and that stems from what appears to be a general distrust of others. his life is one shrouded in secrecy. from the moment he stepped foot into mondstadt, he was surrounded by secrets. even now, he doesn’t talk about a lot of things, namely his past, vision, and feelings. though he’s always willing to get information out of others, kaeya never reveals anything about himself. he repeatedly tells the player they can confide in him, but whenever you try and pry into his life, he deflects your questions with some sort of witty comment or flirty remark. anything he does reveal is vague, or spoken in some sort of “code.” for example, his “interesting things” voiceline. he tells us about the owl of dragonspine, how it “seems to look right through you, while letting go of none of its own secrets,” and then tacks on a “quite fascinating, don’t you think?” it seems like an awfully accurate parallel to himself; kaeya does all he can to get information from others, but never gives anything about himself. now, this whole thing—his relationship with diluc falling apart and his need for secrecy—could have probably been avoided if he had just come clean about his mission years ago. so why didn’t he? to start, kaeya was a literal child. not only are children unable to properly tell the difference between right and wrong, but they’ll also typically follow their parents’ orders blindly. kaeya had just been abandoned, and he wouldn’t want to risk being cast out by mondstadt as well if he came clean right away. you see, there’s this thing about trauma, something that trauma theory states. traumatized people feel a sort of shame or guilt regarding their traumatic experience; they’ll keep quiet because they don’t want to cause problems or bother others with their issues. of course kaeya wouldn’t tell the truth about his past, he doesn’t want to destroy the genuinely loving relationships he’d built in mondstadt. his fight with diluc only proves what he was afraid of: if he’s honest, he’ll be abandoned again. and if kaeya’s used to all the lies, why should he bother changing?

another thing, if he’s not going to tell the truth, then why would he have initially gone along with his father’s plans? again, he was a child. he really had no choice, and was forced into a very wrong and cruel situation. there’s a good explanation for this, too, which is also stated in trauma theory; traumatized people will still do their best to please their abusers. especially if said abuser is a parent, that will drive traumatized people to work even harder to please them. although his father hurt him by ruthlessly abandoning him, kaeya still sought to make him and his homeland proud. he was willing to be used as a tool for their gain; that is, until he found people who actually cared about him. he was an impressionable child, of course he’s going to obey orders. but as he gets older, he feels torn. does he serve those who abandoned him, or those that took him in? his father—and arguably, khaenri’ah as a whole—hurt him, sure, but he still feels some loyalty and connection to his former home. instead of revealing anything, he lets the situation play out. that way, he can’t be blamed when things fall apart.

the thing about claiming he’s untrustworthy is that hardly anyone in-game believes that. he’s adored by the older folks in mondstadt, and foes and allies alike find him easy to talk to. despite seeming lazy and uninterested in work, kaeya takes his job very seriously. in fact, his story states that crepus’s death was the “first and only time kaeya failed in his duty.” the “only time” is especially important, because it signifies kaeya still fulfills his duties successfully. he’s had a total of one slip-up, and hasn’t failed since. no, kaeya is not untrustworthy. rather, kaeya finds everyone else untrustworthy. it’s not unlikely that this is a direct consequence of being abandoned as a child. although it’s been established that kaeya and diluc were very close as children, when crepus dies, kaeya assumes diluc is the one that killed him. in order to jump to such an extreme conclusion against someone he was so close to, there had to be some underlying sense of distrust. furthermore, kaeya expresses feeling as though he doesn’t belong anywhere. he was abandoned by khaenri’ah, and then worried he wouldn’t be accepted by mondstadt. he is, but there’s still that worry. if you place him in your teapot as a companion, he tells you that your home feels like someplace he belongs, following it up with a “heh, who’d have thought…” kaeya still feels as though he doesn’t belong in mondstadt; despite the fact that he’s a high-ranking knight of favonius and rather popular, he still feels like an outsider. he doesn’t trust that anyone actually wants him around, and he finds joy in testing peoples’ trustworthiness. it’s noted in his story and through his voicelines that the beloved cavalry captain has a rather sadistic nature. he likes putting people into difficult situations, to see what decisions they will make. he does this to both opponents and allies, testing to see who’s going to back out and who’ll keep fighting; in the sake of allies, who can he trust? or who will turn tail and abandon their teammates at the slightest hint of danger? i mentioned it previously, but kaeya doesn’t care what measures he has to take so long as his job gets done and he gets the answers he wants. it’s a sort of self-preserving mindset, putting himself above the safety of others. kaeya’s trying to protect himself, which makes sense with all he’s been through. he doesn’t want to be hurt, and instead finds pleasure in threatening harm upon others. it’s twisted, sure, but it’s because he can only trust himself in a world that he believes is out to get him. he’s got as many enemies—if not more—as he does allies; of course kaeya focuses on protecting himself first, whether physically or through keeping his secrets, well, secret.

his most obvious traumatic effect is definitely his alcoholism. but he uses it as a distraction, not just to wallow in self-pity. this is seen again in his story, particularly in story 3. it’s found that when his favorite drink, death after noon, is out of season, mondstadt’s crime rate is decreased drastically. at face value, this just means kaeya spends more time working when death after noon is low in supply. but kaeya doesn’t skip work to go to taverns; it’s already been established he takes his job very seriously, so this means he actually patrols and tracks down threats while off work when he can’t indulge in his favorite alcoholic drink. he doesn’t get drunk simply because he’s depressed. if he did, there wouldn’t be a drop in incidents when death after noon is out of season. no, kaeya uses both the alcohol and fighting to distract himself. after all, it’s a little hard to think about feeling sad when you’re either drunk out of your mind or fighting for your life.

despite being so secretive, kaeya gives us glimpses of his true emotions from time to time. as previously mentioned, his flirty attitude is nothing more than a mask to hide how he really feels; and kaeya is terribly, terribly lonely. that may be why he seems so extroverted. constantly being around people should, logically, drive away that feeling, but it doesn’t work like that. when he talks with the player, he frequently expresses disappointment when you have to leave. each time, though, he dampens the weight of his words with playful or flirty language. he’s lonely, but doesn’t want you to know that, like he’s afraid of asking you to stay. he takes the seriousness of his feelings, and basically bends it into some sort of lighthearted joke. kaeya hides his true feelings—negative feelings, to be exact—so that he doesn’t bother anyone. which is, again, something that happens with traumatized people. he displays that hesitance to reveal his true feelings, because there’s a shame or guilt that comes with his past. he doesn’t want to bother others or hold them back, so he puts on a smile and amps up the charisma. one other very important thing—but very small detail—i would like to note is his feelings toward family. his fell apart not even once, but twice, and kaeya still holds familial relationships in high regard. we know he doesn’t exactly care how he goes about getting his work done. he doesn’t pay attention to what’s “right” or “wrong,” so long as he gets what he needs. but one of his informants, vile, notes that the cavalry captain has one exception: he won’t work with those who threaten others’ families. in fact, kaeya claims those who do should be hunted down and destroyed. even though his own families have caused him so much pain—and he ended up estranged from both—he still understands the importance of having people who love you in your life. because he didn’t get that.

kaeya’s not evil. ultimately, as a knight of favonius, his goal is to protect others, because no one was there to protect him. and because no one was there to protect him, because he’s been hurt time and time again by people who were supposed to love him, kaeya has taken to protecting himself. he hides any and all negative feelings with a charismatic, friendly façade, because he thinks it’ll drive away his persistent loneliness. any “bad” actions of his were hardly his fault; he was forced into a life of secrecy and lies, and then abandoned by the first people who truly loved him. kaeya’s a multi-faceted, tragic character, one that toes the line between good and evil, and that’s what makes him so interesting.

#brynn yells #brynn answers #killshot anon #brynn's writing #genshin #genshin impact #kaeya #kaeya alberich #genshin kaeya

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