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mrsbrekkers · 3 years

Note

Hi! How are you?

Could I get a Kaz Brekker imagine where he opens up to the reader after a job about his past and the next day he tells her it was a mistake and a lapse of judgement, quite harshly. And then the reader gets hurt after a heist and he realises how much he actually needs her.

Thank you <3

i’m doing pretty good! first kaz fic tehe, i’ve been waiting to do kaz brekker one-shots since i read the books. he is v much a comfort character. i understand his aversion to physical touch ( i have panic attacks at times because of so ), his humor, and inner dialogue so he is v dear and near to my heart yeeee

i switched up the next day bit and did it as the same time since it made more sense to me?? i’m not sure how to explain it haha

pairings! kaz x reader / jesper x wylan + nina x matthias ( with inej third wheeling because she’d so do so. )

reader is female in this, but i can make it non-gender specific if one would like me too! just let me know i’m very flexible in my writing!

warnings! talking about jordie, ptsd, trauma, talk of death, loss of a brother + mother, swear words, kaz being sad, panic attacks, blood, near death experience, pekka a-hole rollins,

word count; 2610 ( proud again haha )

one-shot under cut!

COMPANIONABLE SILENCE

The Slat had become uncharacteristically quiet. A successful heist on part of the Crows made for easy celebration amongst the Dregs. Most sat gambling at the Crow Club, drinking the night away. Jesper had been having a weirdly lucky night, the money in front of him displaying such. Wylan had been on Jesper’s leg the entire night, and the occasional ‘This is my lucky charm’ could be heard from Jesper. Inej and Nina sat drinking together, Matthias looking like an unwilling bystander to the girls' fun. And yet, Y/N found herself back at the Slat after the long day. Her back screamed at her to call it a night, but instead, she found herself in front of Kaz’s door.

It was a routine the two had when they were the only ones at the Slat. Y/N would sit on the bed, head in a book, and Kaz would sit quietly at his desk planning whatever it was Kaz Brekker decided to plan. It seemed the same tonight, with Y/N quietly reading, until her head lifted to see Kaz rubbing his eyes.

“You need to get more sleep. The amount you manage is minimal. I’m surprised you’re not dead yet,” Y/N commented, her book falling into her lap, the page she’d left off on now folded at the corner. It surprised her how Kaz managed to live off of his, if lucky, two hours of sleep. She’d never understand it. Granted, she slept less than the suggested as well, but she always made up for it with at least a nap during the day.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

That might be sooner than you think at this rate. But Y/N wouldn’t take that for an answer. She wasn’t usually a pushy person, especially with Kaz Brekker. She’d learned being pushy with him was never a good idea, considering the amount of people who did were left with a ruined reputation and nothing to live with.

“Sleeping when you’re dead isn’t an option in Ketterdam. Even when you’re dead here, you’re really not. Especially when people know of you. And last time I checked, the entire city knows you, and half of it wants your head on a silver platter. I’m actually sure people outside of the city know you, and may want the same,” Y/N said, standing and moving over to the wooden desk, sitting across from Kaz. Her eyes landed on the work Kaz worked on, seeing another heist plan he was drawing out.

Kaz wasn’t going to give in easily, anyone who knew him knew he was stubborn. One of the most stubborn people who lived in Ketterdam, but he knew what Y/N was saying held some truth in it. One was never truly dead in Ketterdam. He suspected people would dig up his body to hand over to Pekka Rollins - no, he wouldn’t die before Pekka Rollins did, that was a promise he’d made himself after Jordie. Brick by Brick. He couldn’t pull Rollins apart if he was dead. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t dead yet: his vigor to destroy the man who’d killed his brother. But he did suspect that when he, Kaz Brekker, was dead, he’d never truly be dead.

“Even so, I have things to do, plans to make-”

“At 1 in the morning? I’m sure such plans aren’t going to disappear overnight.” Being cut off, Kaz casted Y/N a glare, eyes narrowing. Why she had such influence over him, he’d never know. Or, maybe he did know and wasn’t going to express why. Because why would he? Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason after all. He always had reasons though.

Finally, Y/N sighed. “I don’t expect you to listen to me, but I’m not going to let you rot away from the lack of sleep you get, Kaz. I am just as stubborn as you, and if I must? I will sit here and bug you about your lack of sleep until sunrise. Or until I inevitably fall asleep.” The smallest glimpse of a smile reached Kaz’s lips, an instinct to roll his eyes almost playfully too. Stubborn about the well-being of her friends was a Y/N special. Kaz had simply thought he’d have time before she got on his ass about his own health.

She’d already gotten on Wylan about his self-destructive habits. His tendency to blame himself for not being good enough. Y/N had practically choked him out once when he’d gone on a rant about how he was a problem for the Crows. A burden. Kaz himself had been somewhat frightened. She’d found ways to help Jesper and his gambling addiction, which usually included them gambling, but in ways that didn’t involve money. She’d gotten on Matthias for his excuses to not kiss Nina.

If Kaz remembered correctly, she’d called it ‘redirecting the issue’.

“You’re avoiding something,” Y/N then spoke, crossing her arms. Weren’t they all avoiding something? Kaz thought, huffing as he sat back into his seat. This was Ketterdam after all. If you weren’t running from some rich merchant, then you were running from their son. Wylan had simply been a lucky break in that usual streak.

“You say that as if we all aren’t running from something,” Kaz finally said out loud, his eyes casted downwards.

“Avoiding, Kaz. Not running, and something tells me the thing you’re avoiding isn’t something, but someone.” Y/N knew the look Kaz had on. She’d worn it herself dozens of times.

“I had a brother.” Kaz couldn’t bring himself to look directly at Y/N. It would make talking about this all too real. Too much. Was this a lapse in his judgement? Why was he telling her this? Had she managed to get so under his skin?

“We moved to Ketterdam after my father died. My brother . . . Jordie-'' the name came out with a small crack in his voice. He hadn’t said that name out loud since he’d laid on his sick brother’s chest. “Was hopeful about what the city would bring, and it brought peace for some time. We worked with a man for some time, and my brother was in on a deal. One that seemed too good to be true,” Kaz scowled now, his anger seeming to rise as he spoke.

Y/N sighed, knowing where this was going now. “When an offer is too good to be true-”

“It usually is. That man went by a different name then. One to scam people for their money to rise through the ranks of the Barrel.” Kaz finally lifted his eyes, seeing the realization rush over Y/N’s face.

“Pekka Rollins.”

“Pekka Rollins is the reason my brother is dead.”

The room fell silent for a few moments, Y/N contemplating what to say. She had a feeling she was among the few who knew Kaz’s story. She was tempted to ask how Joride died, but she could infer. She’d been around Ketterdam during the time firepox had plagued the city. Her mother had been taken from the disease. She’d been the same age as Kaz. It began clicking in her head too.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N murmured. “I know you probably don’t want my pity, but really, I’m sorry.” It made sense why Kaz felt like he needed to best Pekka Rollins. He wanted revenge. He wanted Rollins to be just as down as him and his brother had been.

Kaz sucked in a deep breath, standing and running a hand through his hair. His regret for telling the woman before him began to consume him. This was a mistake. Why had he told her? A harsh look fell over his face, looking down at the plans he had laid out. “I need to finish these plans, and I’m sure you need some sleep,” his tone was harsh, but it was clear there was hurt underlying it. He wasn’t going to be an outright asshole, but he needed his space now.

“You need sleep too, and I doubt you’re in the right headspace to try and make plans-”

“Y/N, leave.” He internally was begging. And Kaz Brekker never begged . . . but Kaz Rietveld would, and that’s who was begging.

“Kaz-”

“Leave.” Anger washed over his features, his eyes directing Y/N to the door.

Y/N sighed, walking towards the door. Before she turned the knob, she stopped. “You know being open about your past doesn’t make you weak, right?” But Kaz said nothing, afraid his voice would fail him. With no words spoken for a beat, Y/N opened the door, shutting it as she paced down the steps.

Her book still lied on the bed, the folded paper to the chapter she was on prominent. Kaz took one look at it before sighing and sitting in the chair, one tear making its way down his face.

---

It was supposed to be in and out. Another job. Another however much Kruge. Where is she? Kaz thought. Y/N was never one for being late. Sure she was working with Jesper, who was notoriously late, but she should’ve been out before Jesper was, and she wasn’t.

It’d been a week of no speaking. Kaz couldn’t speak to her after revealing so much. He feared it would become all too real. A common fear he had. Stealing, picking locks, it was all real to him, yes, but he never experienced reality when he was on a job. It was his way of ‘avoiding’ as Y/N would put it. But now, he couldn’t avoid the reality of this job.

The reality was: He’d ignored Y/N for a week in fear, and now she wasn’t at the rondevu point.

She’s Y/N, she isn’t dead. But that may not be true. She could indeed be dead. She could be, She could be, She could be.... Dozens of potential outcomes came to mind.

The world seemed to spin as he paced. Nina and Matthias had already tried to calm him. Nina had even tried to calm his heart rate down. Wylan seemed to be just as worried as Kaz as well, Jesper still out there alongside Y/N and all. Inej was calm, but it was clear she was worried too. They all were, but Kaz was being unusually emotional.

“At this rate, you’re going to have a heart attack Kaz,” Nina had said.

And if he did, then that’d be a first for the Bastard of The Barrel.

“And you’re not close to having one?” Wylan asked, shooting a glare over at Nina.

Kaz mentally thanked Wylan. At least he wasn’t the only one close to breaking down. Get in and out. In and out. What had gone wrong?

But then he heard the sound of boots running across the muddy ground, his eyes shooting up to see Jesper carrying a bleeding Y/N.

She’s bleeding. Who had hurt her? Kaz wasn’t sure, but anger filled him. That was until he fully internalized that Y/N was bleeding.

“Jesper, what happened?”

Jesper helped Y/N into the safe house, his breathing heavy as he helped her onto the bed of one of the rooms. “Rollins. He got word of the job. We became overwhelmed and Y/N here took a bullet to the shoulder.” Then Wylan was practically engulfing Jesper in a hug.

How? Was Kaz’s initial thought, but with a huff, he closed his eyes. Moving over to follow Jesper, he took off his coat. Upon entering the room Y/N was sitting in, he nodded towards her good arm, silently asking for her to take off the sleeve of the arm that was hit.

“I thought we weren’t speaking?” Y/N asked, groaning as she pulled the sleeve of her bad shoulder off with some help from Inej who pushed everyone else out of the room. Inej left as well, but gave Kaz a nod to let her know when he would need help.

Kaz didn’t lift his eyes to look at Y/N, his eyes steady on the bullet lodged in her shoulder. He pulled out the medical kit under the bed. Always prepared, Y/N thought.

“How did Rollins find out?” Y/N asked, watching Kaz pick up tweezers from the small medical kit.

“I’m not sure, but I plan on figuring it out. Stay still.” And Y/N did, knowing this was hard enough as it was for Kaz, she didn’t want to make it any harder. Squeezing her eyes shut as she prepared for the pain. She gripped onto the bed, seething as Kaz took the bullet out with the tweezers.

“I hope you know, I didn’t mean any harm last week.” Kaz knew what Y/N was referring too, and he simply nodded for the moment. Picking up the bandages from the kit, Y/N shook her head.

“Get Inej to do it, you’ve already pushed yourself enough.”

“It’s fine,” Kaz spoke, his voice firm.

“Kaz, don’t-”

“I want too.” His eyes lifted to finally look up at Y/N. She looked down as well, silently nodding. She understood Kaz enough to know this was his apology for ignoring her the past week.

“My mother, she died from firepox,” Y/N spoke quietly. She didn’t know how Kaz would take her bringing it up, but she felt that if she didn’t, they’d build up all this anger again. They’d ignore one another again. Kaz stalled. Flashes of Jordie and Reapers Barge consumed him for a few moments. Y/N’s skin turned cold, icy and raw. He flinched away from the feeling.

Then he heard it - Y/N’s heartbeat. She was living. She wasn’t a corpse. The heartbeat and blood were testament to that. She isn’t dead.

“I never told you how he died,” Kaz spoke quietly. He wasn’t used to talking about such subjects with anyone. It was the reason he’d taken on a different surname. That way he could cut ties with his past.

But for some reason, Y/N was able to make him feel . . . though begrudgingly, open with his past.

“I can infer, Kaz,” Y/N said with a small hiss as Kaz finished with the bandage, his hands shaky. “Now, you can continue ignoring me if you wish, I imagine you enjoy avoiding me.”

“I don’t enjoy it.” Kaz now had someone he connected with on a level he wasn’t used to. He wasn’t going to enjoy being apart from that.

“I know, I was simply making sure,” Y/N teased, her lips quirking in a small smile.

Kaz gave a small shake of his head, his lips pulling into a smile as well for just a moment. Then he picked up his coat he’d taken off. “I imagine you’re cold, here,” he spoke then, watching as Y/N took it and wrapped it around herself.

Then the door swung open, Nina rushing over to give Y/N a hug. “Kaz here almost had a heart attack. Wylan almost did. Jeez, never do that again,” she said, laughing a bit.

“Ouch, ouch, Nina,” Y/N spoke, referencing the still open wound on her shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry. We made food for you,” Nina said, smiling before handing Y/N a tray of food.

Kaz exited the room, allowing the others some time to talk to Y/N. Inej followed him, her arms crossed as she leaned against one of the walls.

“What information do you want me to get on Rollins?”

“Whatever you can find.” You’re not taking her from me Rollins, and you’d better be ready when I do come for you. Brick by Brick.

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pingutats · 3 years

Note

For the “ways to say i love you” prompts, 43 please!

thank you for the request! from this list, prompt 43: "I picked these for you."

warnings: none! this is just fluff!

word count: 1.8k

. . . . .

This is definitely Harry’s domain.

Y/N hugs her shoulders as she stands in her bedroom-turned-dressing-room, staring at the rack of expensive clothes that have been left for her. Through the door, she can hear the noise of the crew bustling around her living room. This house has, of course, been the site of many Harry-hosted parties that had packed in a lot more people than there are present here today — despite that, this smaller group is threatening to become overwhelming for her.

She’s doing this for Harry. A couple of months ago, he was approached by AnOther Magazine to do a big feature with them — a kind of sequel to the one that he did when they were still called Another Man — and he’s been pouring his heart and soul into it since then. It feels like every single day, he’s been off chatting with a writer or meeting with the creative director. He dragged boxes out of storage to rifle through for mementos of his life as a solo artist last week. Y/N knows that some of their friends have been interviewed to talk about Harry. She’s pretty sure Stevie Nicks is one of them.

The centrepiece, though, is a photoshoot more intimate than he’s ever shared before. In the same way that the shoot set in his hometown years ago illustrated where he came from before he rocketed to stardom, this one will reveal who he is underneath all the make-up and glamour of fame.

Harry as he exists in private: in his home, with his girl, sharing this image of himself for the very first time.

Y/N was apprehensive at first — hell, Harry was too — but they’ve discussed it at length. He’s always been a private man, but his ethos is that honesty is integral to his art. He sings in detail about her in his music and puts that into the world with minimal censoring. This magazine feature, at its core, is just another artistic venture. He doesn’t want to hold back. When she understood it like that, it was easy for her to agree.

Her conviction that this is an important thing to do for Harry doesn’t stop the nerves, though. She’s never been a model, or even remotely a figure of interest beyond her connection to Harry. It’s his limelight that she’s stepping into. She can’t help but feel nervous about it.

The first outfit she’s wearing is a boldly patterned dress, custom-made by Gucci at Harry’s request. This isn’t the first time she’s wearing something this expensive (there are no compromises on fashion when you’re with Harry) but it still makes her feel like a fish out of water. She holds the hanger at arms-length for a moment, vaguely anxious that she might have put on weight since the fitting and it won’t fit her anymore, then carefully slips it off. She steps into it gingerly and shrugs it over her shoulders, then reaches behind her to pull the zip up as far as she can reach. She stands in front of the mirror and looks at her reflection, frowning.

Her make-up, which was done earlier, is colourful and dramatic. The point of this home shoot is to show the dichotomy between Harry’s celebrity persona and his private life, illustrated through the elaborate costuming inside their relatively normal home. She doesn’t recognise herself in it.

There’s a knock at the door, startling her out of her thoughts. She whips around, back straightening. “What is it?”

“Can I come in?” It’s Harry’s voice, and just those four short words in his gentle tone are enough to dissolve some of her anxiety.

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself into a calmer headspace. “Yeah,” she answers.

He opens the door discreetly and slips inside, careful not to reveal her to the people in the living room while she’s not properly dressed. She appreciates his caution. Although he’s apparently comfortable enough to walk around near-strangers half-naked—he’s only wearing his boxers right now—she definitely isn’t.

“Everything alright, darling?” he asks. Every step that brings him closer puts her more at ease. She’s always been an anxious person, but he’s like a drug to her. From the very first time they met, he’s been the person she feels most natural with. They just work. Things feel right with him.

She smiles at him. It’s a weak stretch of her lips, but a smile nonetheless. “Yeah. Can you zip me up, please?”

“Of course.”

She turns back around to face the mirror and reaches behind her head to pull her hair out of his way. His fingers are warm against bare skin of her back, finding the zipper and dragging it up, his knuckles brushing against her skin more than is probably necessary. He fixes the way the straps sit over her shoulders with the same attention to detail that she’s seen his stylists give for him a hundred times before. His lip is tucked between his teeth as he does so, glancing from the mirror back to her, his face the image of concentration.

Finally satisfied, he takes a step back and rakes his gaze up and down her figure. “Y’look gorgeous.”

She shrugs, staring at herself. “Thanks, H.”

“I mean it.” He plants a kiss on her cheek, holding her by the waist as they look at each other through their reflections. “Pretty dress for a pretty girl.”

Heat rises in her face and she drops her gaze to the floor. “Now you’re doing too much.”

He shakes his head. “‘M not. Promise I’m not.”

She hums, appraising their reflection with a frown. Even in his underwear, Harry is Harry, and she… She feels like she’s playing dress up in someone else’s wardrobe, dipping her toes into someone else’s life. Harry is at ease in a place like this but she certainly isn’t.

Harry seems to sense this. “Something the matter?” he asks her gently.

“No, just —“ she wrings her hands in front of her, searching for the words. “I don’t feel like me.”

He furrows his brow. “I know what you mean. ’S weird when you do all this—” he flutters his hand around the room, at the rack of clothes and towards the door where they can hear someone giving directions to shift the couch slightly to the left “—just to get a photo done. And I know you’re not used to it.” He squeezes her waist gently. “But you look beautiful. Just like you always do.”

She can’t suppress a small smile at that, bumping her head against Harry’s shoulder with a quietly mouthed, “Thank you.”

He turns his head to kiss her hair, then releases his grip on her waist and moves over to the rack of clothes. “But did y’see…” He bends down to pick up a plastic container marked Look 1 from the shelf at the bottom. He opens it up to reveal various pieces of jewellery inside, and delicately picks out a couple pieces with nimble fingers. “I picked these for you.”

They’re her earrings. More specifically, they’re the earrings that he gave her for their first anniversary. A couple of dangling pearls—he’d bought them during his obsession with the gems. They’re a sweet memento of that time of their lives, of the honeymoon phase that felt like it lasted forever, that never really fizzled out even to this day. They’re her favourites.

She realises her mouth has dropped open. “When did you sneak those in?” she asks.

He shrugs, smirking. “I have my ways. I’m sneaky.” He returns to his previous position standing behind her, nudging her hair behind her ear with his knuckles. “May I?”

She nods, trying not to shiver as his fingers brush against her ears.

“There we go,” he says, stepping back. “Is that a bit better?”

The girl in the mirror looks familiar now. Despite the make-up and the dress, she can see herself. The same face, framed by the same earrings, that has accompanied Harry through all sorts of days and nights. Today is just another one of those things. Something they’re doing, together, and isn’t that all she wants, for them to do everything together?

Being with Harry is a dream she never wants to wake up from. They’ve built a paradise together and now they get to share a tiny part of it with the world—not for the world to share in it, but to see just how beautiful it is.

There’s a little part of Y/N that hopes it makes the rest of the world jealous. They should be, she thinks.

“It’s perfect, H,” she tells him, glancing over her shoulder so she looks at his real face, not just his reflection. “Honestly. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” He looks proud of himself—his eyes are shining and his dimples are on display as he looks her up and down once more. “It’s all you.”

Y/N mirrors him, her gaze travelling down his body. She bites her lip.

Harry seems to remember suddenly that he’s only in his underwear—his hands fly to cover his thinly-clothed privates and he looks at her, his mouth open in a sly grin. “This is not the time,” he scolds, his shoulders shaking as he suppresses laughter.

Y/N rolls her eyes, grabbing him by the shoulder and pushing him to turn around. “Go get dressed, you dork.”

. . . . .

The suit that Harry wears is made out of the same material as Y/N’s dress, bright and bold colours. The photographer is accomodating of her nerves as he has them sit on the couch. The window is wide open to allow the natural light to illuminate their faces, and the Y/N can feel the warmth of the sun on her face. The sky is a brilliant blue. It’s a perfect day.

“Okay, look this way,” the photographer tells her, drawing her attention from the window to the camera. “A little closer, Harry.”

Harry shifts over, his thigh pressing against hers. His hand comes to rest on her knee, then lifts suddenly as if he’s remembered something. “Hang on a minute,” he says to the photographer, holding up a finger.

He twists around to face Y/N and carefully sweeps her hair back over her shoulder, tucking it behind her ear to ensure the pearl earring is on clear display. She smiles at him, which he returns in a quick unspoken exchange of gratitude and care.

“Alright,” Harry says, settling back to face the photographer. His hand finds Y/N’s and he squeezes it. “We’re good.”

The camera clicks and the flash goes off. Their hands remain joined on Harry’s lap.

. . . . .

hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, a reblog & any kind of message would be really appreciated. i'm open to any requests, from the prompt list linked above or from your own imagination, which you can send here. all my other writing is linked on my masterlist. have a lovely day!

#harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #fic

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linkspooky · 4 years

Text

Eren’s Dissocation

This month’s chapter has a lot of people confused on Eren’s actions. Why would Eren choose the worst option possible? Why force himself to do something he clearly doesn’t want to do? Why, when he’s given options to back out, does he instead double down on the bad decision making? Why, when no one is holding a gun to his head does he pick the worst available choice?

The narrative obviously isn’t sympathizing with Eren so we’re meant to question his choices. So let’s get into Eren’s headspace. A place where clearly even Eren doesn’t want to be.

1. Other People

Eren displays a lot of paradoxes in his reasoning this chapter. His every action is a contradiction. He goes out of his way to save a child, and then crushes them later without lifting a finger to help. He says he wants to do this all for the sake of freedom, and yet he’s espousing ideas like a fixed future, and acting helpless to his eventual fate. Eren begs and cries for the child to forgive him for what he must do... when nobody is actually forcing him to do anything.

It’s not only that Eren makes bad choices, but he also acts like he’s the victim of his own bad choices. He acts like he’s completely helpless to do these things. Eren says one thing, and then deliberately does another to contradict it when he DOES NOT HAVE TO. It seems like Eren is going out of his way to ruin everything and people are questioning what pushed Eren to this point of deliberate self destruction and acting like he was all out of options when he very, clearly wasn’t.

Eren’s motivations make no sense. Yeah. They make no sense because Eren is trying to reconcile two irreconcilable ideas. The ideas of predestination and freedom are complete and total opposites ideas that cannot coexist in Eren’s mind. Eren can’t reconcile them. So he doesn’t. Rather than try to justify himself or struggle to find the right answer Eren settles for the wrong one. Rather than try to justify his actions Eren avoids any confrontation of his actions all together. Eren distances himself - from his actions, the consequences of his actions, and his role in everything that happens.

It’s a simple idea, but also a complicated one which I will do my best to explain. How does Eren do this? How does Eren end up in this very contradictory mindset, where he just keeps making things worse, on purpose. And it starts with the way Eren sees other people.

There’s a reason that Eren is made out to be so childlike and petty in this chapter. It’s because he is. This line is very vague, but if I were to explain it I would say.

Eren is very bothered by the fact that other people exist.

What I mean is, other people have thoughts, feelings, and entirely different opinions from Eren and Eren doesn’t really want to deal with that. While yes, it could be a line about how Eren saw the same oppression outside the walls as he did in Paradis, I think it’s a lot pettier than that. Eren got really, really, bothered by the fact that the world he imagined as empty was in fact crowded with other people besides him.

In child developmental psychology there’s an experiment called the “Three Mountain Problem.” In the experiment a child is shown a model of a mountain from one perspective and asked to draw what it looks like. They’re asked to draw what they see.Then, a doll is placed behind the mountain looking at it from a completely different angle. The experimenter then asks the child to draw what the doll sees. The doll would see something completely different - but the child doesn’t comprehend that. They draw the exact same picture the first time. Children lack the ability to imagine that other people don’t. A child only sees the world from one point of view.

You know what’s really frustrating? Arguing with other people. Sometimes even if you know you’re right, even if you state your argument perfectly and show the facts that person still won’t agree with you. It’s frustrating to deal with the fact that you can influence, but you can’t really control the opinions of others.

Eren is fundamentally, unable to see, and deal with other people as people. By that I mean, their perspectives, their feelings, he can’t really see or understand those things outside of his own perspective. Other people ask things of him, require things of him, that he can’t give. Other people disagree with him, fight with him.

Eren’s not an eco-terrorist. He’s not bothered by the fact the world isn’t a natural paradise outside the walls. It’s the people themselves, that Eren finds disappointing.

Eren can’t deal. On a micro-level. Let’s forget about the plot at large and just focus on Eren for a second. Who are the people that Eren has chosen to surround himself post-timeskip.

If Eren’s ultimate ideal is freedom why does he choose to trust Floche of all people? A sycophant, and someone who is practically begging to have all of his choices taken away from him?

It’s also because Floch is also someone who won’t disagree with him, or question him the way his friends might. Eren just can’t deal.

Eren claims that everything he does is out of love for his friends. He fights for his friends, sacrifices for his friends. He has to be the one to die so his friends can live.

But, when Eren hears that Mikasa has the exact same motivation for him. That Mikasa wants to protect him, and fight for him the same way he wants to fight for her. When Eren hears that Mikasa might love him and show that love by always fighting for him, which is the exact same way Eren tends to show his love for his friends he doesn’t... get it. He can’t accept her feelings in any real way. He can’t even really understand them.

Eren wants to love Mikasa, he wants to love his friends, but he either can’t accept their feelings, or he just doesn’t want to. He’s allowed to love Mikasa, Mikasa can’t possibly love him back. Even when Zeke just straight up tells him to his face, Eren dismisses Zeke and says what Mikasa feels for him doesn’t even matter because he’s going to die in four years. Eren avoids her feelings, otherwise.

That’s the key word here. Eren’s avoidant. In every single person he deals with, he’s avoidant. That’s how his very contradictory views of people are maintained. There’s a lot of examples I could list of this. Eren wants his friends to be free, but he goes out of his way to lock them up. Eren says he’s doing this for the sake of his friend’s happiness, and then antagonizes them as cruelly as possible. The reason he’s able to do these things, is that he avoids truly looking, or confronting his actions, and also the people he’s surrounded with in any real way.

Not only with Mikasa, you can see it in his interaction with Historia.

Eren and Historia grew close because Eren said he wanted to get to know the real Historia. But, then he specifically asks Historia to do something that is the opposite of everything she stands for. When she disagrees with him, because she wants to live as an individual with her head held high with pride and make her own choices, do what she thinks is right as Ymir told her. When Historia tries to assert herself as an individual who doesn’t completely agree with him, Eren then switches tactics and tries to browbeat her into doing what he wants of her.

Eren’s view of the world is very isolated, and insulated from others. Whenever somebody challenges his view, he makes the choice to retreat back inside of his own head rather than try to change.

That’s also a natural consequence of Eren not seeing people as people. Because he avoids the thoughts, feelings, opinions of others it means his own thoughts never really change. He deprives himself of the ability to see things in a different way. Eren is stuck in a rut, but also Eren doesn’t want to leave that rut he wants to bunker down.

2. Eren Himself.

Eren’s head what a terrifying place to be inside.

Dissociation is a mental process that causes a lack of connection in a person's thoughts, memory and sense of identity. Dissociation seems to fall on a continuum of severity.

Dissociation is a defense mechanism of the brain. So is avoidance. They are both learned defense mechanisms that the brain uses to protect himself, and they are also behaviors that people fall into to protect themselves.

This is why Eren is depicted as a child over and over again. This is why Eren is shown constantly flashing back to his mother’s death. It’s because Eren never really got over that initial trauma, Eren has been stunted and never grew or developed from that point.

Eren’s a big old manchild, and that makes sense just from what he’s been through. It’s easy to forget that Eren is a child soldier who like, never had a stable environment after losing his home. The reason he hyper focuses on his mother, and that initial incident is because that was the start of everything all the insecurity of his life. Eren adopted all these mechanisms to cope in a situation where he was truly helpless, and yet even after the situation changed, Eren’s internal mechanisms never truly did change and he kept on coping in the same broken way.

Dissociation, and Avoidance.

Dissociation is when a person divorces themselves, from their actions, from their own body, from their thoughts and feelings.

Avoidance is when Eren deliberately goes out of his way to avoid any kind of real conflict with other people or having to deal with their feelings because he’s not equipped to handle them.

Eren is hopelessly stuck inside of his own head right now. I don’t know what’s a better metaphor for that, then Eren literally... just being a head. It almost lapses into solipism. Eren has distanced himself from other people so far that he has... literally become a brain in a jar.

Eren’s perspective is the only one that exists to him. But he also disagrees with himself.

Eren wants the freedom to do whatever he wants. But he also, doesn’t really want to be doing what he’s doing right now. So, why does he use his freedom to do these things?

If Eren distances himself, both from the thoughts and feelings of other people, but also his own thoughts and feelings, where is he?

He’s god.

Eren imagines his ideal world as one where he’s above the clouds, in an completely open sky. These are the symbols associated with the idea of god in most religions. Somewhere distant. Somewhere far away.

Eren’s key operating word is distance. He is distancing himself from both other people, and his own actions at the same time, because he can’t really bear or even process the guilt of dealing with both.

Let me explain Eren’s bad decision making with a simple metaphor.

So spiderman, right. Spiderman gets bitten by a radioactive spider. He has kind of a shitty life. He has no parents, he’s bullied in high school. He’s an average every day loser. Suddenly, he gets all of these super powers. It makes spider man feel special. He has super strength now, he doesn’t need to wear his glasses anymore.

Then a robber runs by him, and Spiderman doesn’t lift a finger to help. Even though he has the special ability to help, he doesn’t take any responsibility for it.

As a result of this choice, his Uncle Ben dies.

Spiderman wanted the super powers, but he didn’t want like any of the added responsibilities of having super powers. In essence until Uncle Ben died, what Spider Man was living out was a power fantasy.

That’s what Eren is in the middle of. He’s always been this very weak and helpless child. He’s always felt like the person who just watched, unable to do anything when his mother died right in front of him. The way he’s dealt with that has always been imagining himself as getting stronger, and stronger, and stronger.

Eren wants power, but he doesn’t want responsibility.

The Sasha scene is literally the Uncle Ben scene. Eren kills a lot of innocent people, he makes a choice to do that, and as a direct result of his actions, someone else important to him dies. It’s a direct story consequence. Eren steps on Gabi’s friends -> Gabi becomes vengeful -> Gabi goes the extra mile to avenge the deaths of her friends sneaks on board and shoots Sasha.

Eren’s mechanism however, is avoidance. He doesn’t want to be at fault. So he’s not. Which means when Eren makes bad decisions. When those bad decisions result in things getting wrose. Eren ignores the consequences of his actions, and is therefore unable to deal with those consequences in any real way.

That’s why we see Eren get worse, and worse, and worse, and worse. Because he’s not learning from any of the choices he is making. Because from Eren’s perspective he doesn’t have a choice.

To summarize the contradiction: Eren wants to kill people, but he doesn’t want to feel like a murderer.

Eren can’t make sense of that, because there is no making sense of that so he looks away. He looks away so he can’t learn, or even really see what he’s doing to people. This causes Eren to spiral. When people have gotten genuinely that bad, when people spiral to the point where it seems like every single thing they’re going to do is going to make things worse what do they start wanting?

Eren’s dream of killing all the titans, is paralleled exactly with Reiner’s urge to just, kill himself so he can be done with everything. That’s the real reason essentially. Yes, it’s extreme, but Eren might be y’know, an extremist? The micro-level informs the macro-level.

Eren has gotten so bad in his mental spiral he’s reached the point where nothing else matters, where he just wants to give up and committ suicide. He wants to make the world disappear. He can no longer deal with the struggle against the world. He sees the only way to escape his problems is to either just wipe everything away, and wipe himself out. That’s metaphorical suicide.

It’s just Eren’s always projected outward.

Rather than deal with his own internal flaws, he tries to change the world around him. Eren has just externalized his own internal conflict to such an extreme extent.

And yeah, Eren is literally just a head right now. Only his own internal conflict, only his own hurt feelings, matter. That’s what Eren does to the child.

The reason that Eren draws the comparison to Eren is because that’s what Reiner did exactly to him.

Eren is the hurt and injured party here. Reiner’s direction actions and choices killed Eren’s mom. However, it’s not about Eren’s feelings, Reiner makes it entirely about his own feelings. His own guilt. His own regret for what he did. How bad he feels about it. Reiner breaks down crying and is so self-involved he forgets that Eren is the one who is hurting here.

Eren repeats the same action. He breaks down crying in front of a child and apologizes again and again. But it’s really about Eren. Eren makes it about himself, and his own guilt and remorse rather than the person he’s wronging.

So yeah. It’s the end of the world and Eren’s just making it about himself. That’s the best way to explain it. It’s easy to kill another person if you don’t see, or truly care about their pain.

Eren is a tool. And by that I mean he wants to take certain actions. Eren is violent, and wants to stir up conflict. He is because he’s a child soldier who has been raised that way all his life. Eren also knows that these things are wrong. Which is why he wants to take these actions, but in no way feel responsible for them. A gun is not responsible for a bullet leaving the barrel and shooting someone. Eren wants to be the gun, rather than the person holding the trigger.

Which is why Eren is now inside of a giant flesh monster that’s bent on destroying everything. He is the mechanism that destroys the world. It’s the extreme result of that line of thinking. But once again Eren’s entire character can be summarized in one line.

“Eren Jaeger is an extremist.”

#aot 131 #snk 131 #snk 131 spoilers #aot 131 spoilers #attack on titan meta #eren jaeger #eren jaeger meta #eren jaeger theory #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot meta

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mystic-sanctuary · 3 years

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A (Hopefully) Helpful Guide to Syskids

A very quick disclaimer here: This is based on my own experiences as a Caretaker with the kids we have had and currently have within our own system. Some of, or even many of these things may not hold true for other systems.

Written by; Bronya (Admin, Archivist, Caretaker)

[GUIDE BELOW THE CUT.] [WARNING: VERY VERY LONG.]

Topics covered below;

Some Miscellaneous Basics

Getting to know your SysKid

Caring for your SysKid

Caring for your SysKid - Headspace Specifics

Navigating SysKids and Trauma

Okay, with that out of the way! Dealing with SysKids can be challenging, just like dealing with outside children, though with a few extra challenges because these children are in a system and that can make just about anything challenging at times!

Each SysKid can bring their own unique challenges, so there's no real "every SysKid can be handled like [x]" type situation here. The very first step to learning how to care for your SysKid(s), however, is to get to know them!

Their interests, their dislikes, and for lack of better phrasing, their maturity level. Do not expect your SysKids to always be 100% like their age group. Remember, they have a much older brain now, so for example, your 4 year old SysKid may have a wider understanding of things than, say, a bodily 4 year old might. That doesn't mean they won't still react to those things like a 4 year old would, though! Another 4 year old SysKid, however, may be a lot more similar to a bodily 4 year old. There's no way to tell for sure until you interact with and get to know them!

Our system is both Polyfragmented and Gateway, which means I have seen many SysKids come and go, and we currently have quite a few as well!

Some of them behave more like their age group than others, some seem to fluctuate between an age group (for example, one of them is in the 4-6 range). Some SysKids are nonverbal or some form of altverbal.

Unless otherwise specified by your SysKid, it's absolutely okay to treat your SysKid like an outside kid- as long as you aren't rude or patronizing about it. Yes, I know, "why would I be that way to a kid", but unfortunately I've seen this happen.

Syskids also have their own various boundaries and capabilities. We have a few SysKids who are able and allowed to front alone, provided we are at home.

This isn't plausible for everybody, of course, due to various personal situations the system may have at home, and not all SysKids are able to front on their own anyway.

There are also systems who cannot control their switches which can lead to a SysKid in front alone, and to all of you, you are not a bad person for ""letting this happen"", it isn't your fault if you can't control your switches. Tips for you& include leaving notes for your SysKid if need be (we have a personal discord server we often use for this, for example, which has exclusively us in it), or letting close, trusted friends know about the SysKid in advance so they can help if they're able and needed.

In the case of the two SysKids we allow to front on their own, we know they are responsible/"mature" enough to follow the rules we've set for them without needing to be reminded/regularly enforced/etc.

These rules are pretty basic and by large focused entirely upon their safety: Who they can and can't talk to, discord servers they can and can't talk in, websites we know are safe for them vs websites we aren't sure about or know have inappropriate ads on them that occasionally manage to worm their way past our adblockers.

We also make sure they know, at all times, SysMates they can pull to front or call for help when or if they need it. For us, this includes myself, the Protectors, and a few others who are either Caretakers or have good parental or caretaker-y inclinations. This is something that, while they've both teasingly told us we don't have to keep reminding them of, we often keep reminding them of before or while they front.

"So, how do I get to know my SysKid(s)?"

Find out what they're interested in and spend time with them! Spending time with SysKids is very important, in my experiences. This may include playing with them in headspace, depending on your systems headspace situation, or even watching movies with them while fronting together!

Some SysKids may be shy- they may open up more as they get comfortable around you, but they also might not! If your SysKid is shy, you may need to approach them with more caution and gentleness than other SysKids might require. Some SysKids may not adjust as quickly as others to their new surroundings, either.

Think of... Getting a new pet, for example. They don't know you, your home is new to them, and that can scare them. You have to get them to warm up to you slowly; no rushed movements and soft attempts to initiate play times, etc.

Running with this same analogy, some new pets don't have a problem with any of that, and are in fact just excited to see all their new surroundings and meet all the new people around them!

SysKids have as much variation! For explanation on why I went with this analogy, I know a lot of folks do not have experience with children outside of Systems, for any number of reasons (not having younger siblings, never babysitting for others, etc.) and getting a new SysKid can be just as unique and even as challenging an experience as getting a new pet!

"How can I care for my SysKid?"

One SysKid can have a different set of needs than another, so the answer to this question can vary quite heavily. However, a few examples I can give are:

1. Spending time with them! This can range from coloring together to watching a movie with them! If you live with another system who has SysKids or live with somebody who is comfortable interacting with SysKids, you could even arrange playdates with them.

2. Giving them snacks or treats while they're in front, or even in headspace if your headspace functionality allows for this. Everybody's headspace is different, and some don't have a headspace at all, so this may not be possible outside of front and that's okay!

3. Like the above, depending on your systems headspace situation, this one may not be possible outside of front. However, this one also depends on your SysKid! Some SysKids can get grumpy after a little while without sleep. If you have multiple SysKids, this can get a bit challenging because you'll be trying to arrange multiple naps at once- not everybody is going to want to lay down at the same time.

4. Depending on your systems communication and the verbality of your SysKid (we have a kid who can only say one word, for example), you can also ask your Kiddo what they need or would like to do.

Obviously with this one, you may have to use your own judgement. We've all been kids at one time or another, and SysKids are often no exception to the "wanting to do things they see 'big kids' doing" mindset.

And of course, as with any SysMate, do not force your SysKid out of their comfort zone. This can be damaging to any SysMate (and your relationship with them), so of course it can be just as much if not more so with SysKids. If it's a situation where it's something the body needs that the SysKid is uncomfortable doing and your fronting situation allows you to: do it yourself or have another SysMate do it unless your SysKid has expressed wanting to become more comfortable with whatever it is.

For example, several of our SysKids are uncomfortable with things like going to the bathroom! That can seem like a weird, simple thing they "should be able to do", but keep in mind they are a child and your body isn't. That's a big difference! We are typically able to do fairly fluid switches, so we are able to switch the SysKid out of the "Main Seat" so to speak to do this for them, or "with" them if they've said they want to be more comfortable with it.

"What about in headspace? Do I need to watch them all the time? When should I check on them? Etc."

For me personally, I'm usually with most of our SysKids a good portion of the time. Of course, some of them have other SysMates they'd rather be with most of the time or spend time with sometimes, and that's okay too!

We usually try to keep an older SysMate with all our SysKids, but depending on your headspace, this might not be absolutely necessary.

For us, our headspace is not only incredibly large (an entire world in it's own right, at this point), but dangerous. Even a lot of older SysMates use the buddy system when traveling outside the main city just in case they run into more dangers at once than expected.

If your headspace is safe enough for your SysKid to be alone, it's still a good idea to check in on them! How often you should check on them probably depends on your SysKid's age and how they behave! For example, particularly chaotic SysKids may need to be checked in on more than SysKids who aren't quite so chaotic, just to make sure they aren't getting themselves into any trouble.

If your SysKid is usually fairly loud and there's a period of silence, that'd be a good time to check on them! If your SysKid is usually pretty quiet, you may need to use your own judgement for when to check on them! For example, you might be anxious about leaving them alone if they're pretty quiet, so maybe you'll feel more comfortable checking on them every 5-10 minutes or so.

And of course, if you hear them getting angry or crying, etc. that would definitely be a good time to check on them! Chances are they tripped while playing, can't get a toy to do what they want it to/can't figure out how to get it to do what they want to, or even messed up something they were drawing or coloring.

Personally, when I'm leaving our SysKids momentarily unsupervised for any number of reasons, I check on them anywhere from every 5-15 minutes, varying depending on amount of noise they're making and what kind of noises they're making, but it's important to keep in mind that I'm watching several SysKids at any given time!

To help myself stay organized, and because we have an entire city so this was a plausible option for me, I run a sort of kindergarten-daycare type thing within headspace! All our SysKids have an older SysMate they live with, and not all of them need or are interested in keeping up with any sort of solid education within headspace, so it more or less functions as both!

It's also possible your SysKid might not want to be left alone at all, maybe just at first while they adjust or even indefinitely, and that's okay too! A lot of kids don't like being left by themselves. In this situation, having them hang around another SysMate they like would be a good idea if you aren't sure who to put your SysKid with in this case.

In any case, if you are checking in on your SysKid, it's important to remember that you're not just making sure they're okay! Seeing you check in on them, whether you say this or not, reminds them that you're there for them and to help them/to care for them.

It's also important to remember that your SysKid might try to convince you to sit and color or play with them for a while during one of these check-ins! If you have the time to sit with them for even just a few minutes, I recommend it! It might not seem like much, but in my experience it often means a lot to them and can strengthen your bond with them.

"How do I navigate SysKids and Trauma?"

This can be challenging. Whether it's your systems own traumas, the SysKid getting stuck in front with somebody in a bad state of mind (it happens! front can be finnicky and disagreeable at times, even for those of us who can usually control their switches), your SysKid having ExoTraumas of their own, or even your SysKid being a Trauma Holder!

An important thing to remember in these situations is that, despite the trauma, your SysKid is still a kid! They may not fully understand the trauma they're experiencing (or witnessing). It can be hard to explain things to them if they're asking about it, and you may not even feel comfortable explaining it to them. In this case, it's absolutely okay to try and boil it down in a way a kid might understand- like adults often try to do with bodily kids.

Obviously, Trauma can be likely to stress your SysKid out pretty heavily. Like with older SysMates, coping skills will be helpful for them. Because this is a kid, these coping skills may be pretty different. It can include giving them their comfort item if they have one (for example, a favorite blanket or doll), playing their favorite movie and watching it with them, holding them while they're scared or upset, and comforting them (I usually go with soft "shh" noises and "it's okay", while reminding them that I'm here for them and they aren't alone. Also, just listening to them the same way you would a friend! They may not make as much sense in some cases, but they appreciate having an ear just as much!)

In the case of systems with trauma, avoiding putting your SysKid in situations you know triggers the rest of you because of that trauma as best you can is a good idea!

For a personal example, due to one of our own traumas, we are very Hydrophobic. Things like Showers and Baths are nearly impossible for us most days, and we never get out of them without anxiety attacks or bad dissociation. So even the SysKids who have said they "don't mind" taking a shower or bath through the body do not get to do this.

Some days we have a hard time even drinking water, so on those days we either make sure whatever we're drinking isn't water when the SysKid/s front, or we don't let them front that day.

Again, we are usually fairly in control of our switches, so this works for us, but things may be more complicated to navigate for other systems depending on the nature of their trauma/s and fronting capabilities.

Since that is not our situation, I will not try to make assumptions for how you can navigate your situation if this is how things are for you- given more information, I could certainly try to give you advice, however this is a random tumblr post, and I almost definitely do not know most of those reading this!

Ending notes!

For now this is all I really have, though I can always edit or reblog with more at a later date if need be! If you read this far and have any questions or comments, you're welcome to leave a message on this post, send us a DM, or drop an ask in our inbox! We have Anon turned on as well, for anybody who gets anxious about asks that are off-anon, etc.

#plurality #systemhood #syskids #system kids #plural guide #plurality guide #system guide #long post #endo friendly #endogenic friendly #plural advice #advice #system advice #syskid advice

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athenaholmesartistsguild · 3 years

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Just finished OMORI and I’ve had Yakuza on the brain so I decided to smash the two together and draw some character portraits!

I’ll explain why I drew certain characters certain ways under the “Read More” section, but do be warned that there will be MAJOR spoilers for all of OMORI and Yakuza 4. Basically, if you haven’t finished either game and don’t know the major twists, don’t read on!

Also, I have a lot of thoughts so if you don’t want to read a mini essay, you should probably skip it.

Now for some analysis!

While going through the story of OMORI, I recognized a few thematic similarities between Sunny and Mari and Majima and Saejima. It wasn’t completely perfect (since OMORI is a much heavier, emotion-focused game), but it still interested me a bit.

Mostly, the ways in which Sunny and Basil experience so much guilt for covering up the circumstances of Mari’s death (as well as Sunny killing her in the first place) reminded me of Majima’s reaction to the ’85 massacre. While Yakuza 4 (as well as 0) don’t really dwell on it much, it was pretty obvious that Majima felt a lot of guilt for not being there with Saejima during the assassination. These feelings he had were clearest when he expressed the belief that Saejima would eventually come back to kill him.

Seeing Saejima’s reaction to Majima’s ‘betrayal’, it’s clear that he doesn’t automatically resort to murder when faced with a potential backstabber.

On an intellectual level, I think Majima knows this as well, but the guilt he feels for abandoning his brother (however unintentional it was), seems to manifest in a belief that Saejima killing him would allow Majima to ‘atone’ for the betrayal.

So that’s why Majima plays the role of Sunny/Omori and Saejima is Mari. I chose to call Majima’s headspace persona ‘Kyodai’ since it carried similar thematic significance to Omori being the name of Sunny’s persona.

Sunny pushes Mari down the stairs because they get into an argument over him destroying his violin. He chooses the name Omori because it’s the brand of Mari’s piano. Music is the common theme connecting himself and his sister as well as her death and his headspace.

Saejima and Majima were planning an assassination of a rival yakuza family’s patriarch and because of that, Saejima ends up going to jail without Majima. I decided to name Majima’s headspace persona Kyodai since the yakuza connect both him and Saejima in the real world as well as the headspace.

Majima’s pre-assassination self (who I decided to just call Goro) plays the role of Basil. At first, I was going to have his Y0 self in this position since working at the Grand and living in Sotenbori (as well as going through the events of Y0) were 1) very closely tied to the ’85 massacre and 2) a period of his life Majima very clearly wants to forget; however, I realized why, exactly, headspace Basil is so repressed in Sunny’s mind.

Essentially, Basil is a walking trigger. He gave Sunny the idea to make Mari’s death look like a suicide so any time Sunny so much as looks at his former best friend, he’s reminded of what they did to his sister.

Goro functions in a similar way. He was the one that got the weapons for the hit; he helped plan it; and yet he didn’t show up. In Majima’s mind, Goro is responsible for how the hit ended up happening.

Once I made this realization, things started to click into place a little more with Kyodai. Having Majima’s Y0 play this role made much more sense than choosing his pre-assassination self. In a way, Majima’s time as manager of The Grand was easier than his time as yakuza.

He got up. He went to work. He went home. Rinse. Repeat.

He was imprisoned, but in some ways, prison is easier than real life. You have to be at certain places at certain times and you have little to no agency in how you spend any time to yourself. In short, you don’t have to think much.

Part of the point of Sunny’s headspace is that he doesn’t have to feel anything. As long as he’s going on adventures with his friends and staying busy, he isn’t reminded of the ways in which he tore apart his family and the lives of his friends.

While the Grand definitely isn’t a safe space for Majima, it was pretty clear he was just functioning on autopilot while there. He clocked in, tended to the customers, and made sure the employees kept everything running smoothly. Majima was working towards the goal of becoming yakuza again so his brother would have a place to come back to once he was released. Everything else was pushed away and likely regarded as little more than a distraction from his main goal. In this sense, he is a lot like Omori.

So now we’ve explained the main characters so let’s move onto party members!

I don’t have nearly as much to say about each individual character (which is probably a good thing), but I did try to choose people who are/were significant figures in Majima’s life. Because I used this method to choose the party members instead of sticking to only significant figures in the ’85 massacre, I’m playing a bit fast and loose with time.

The headspace version of Kiryu is his Y0 self meaning he’s from 1988 while Yasuko is her ’85 self. Nishida’s headspace self is also from a different point in time, most likely shortly after Majima gets his own family.

This is where the similarities to OMORI dry up. I drew Yasuko as angry in her real-world portrait (which is a bit similar to Aubrey), but rather than being angry at Majima for Saejima’s arrest, she’s angry at the world at large for taking her brother away.

Kiryu and Nishida weren’t around for the ’85 massacre so they have no idea Majima was involved. If I were to further develop this AU (which I might, but ya never know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯), Kiryu and Nishida would serve as characters who are concerned with Majima’s declining mental health, but unsure why it’s happening or how to fix it.

Kiryu also will have adopted Haruka, but instead of having the really sad backstory she has in the Yakuza games, she’s just a normal little girl (because Haruka deserves to be happy god dammit). Because Majima’s being a bit of a recluse and also not very socially adept, she’s scared of him at first, but would start to trust him after he did some side quests for her (and builds up that trust meter).

In regards to Majima's mental state in the real world, he would be spiraling downwards because the 25th anniversary of Saejima’s arrest is coming up. Majima's beginning to think he’s never going to see his brother again and has essentially started grieving all over again since that hope of being reunited is beginning to dwindle. Because Majima’s pushed away a lot of the people in his life, he has no one to confide in and just ends up isolating himself with all of his self-loathing, grief, and guilt.

I would probably throw some Kazumaji stuff in there, too because I have no shame.

So HOO! That’s all I have to say about that! I want to do a few more drawings in this style so keep an eye out for that.

Knowing me, I’ll probably start writing some stuff and make some mini comics fleshing out the world/ the AU as a whole. My work won’t be nearly as detailed as OMORI is in regards to the little story elements and connections between the real world and headspace, but I’ll still try!

#Omori spoilers #Omori alternate Universe #Yakuza spoilers #yakuza fanart #yakuza alternate universe #omori fanart #majima goro #kiryu kazuma #saejima taigi #saejima yasuko #digital art #Nishida #my art

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stickynotestoletters · 4 years

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Yandere Headcannons BNHA

This is just a bunch of headcanons I have about the boys in BNHA and what they’d be like as yanderes. Only the really fluffy or good things about them listed here. This is not a good depiction of a real yandere and make sure to be careful to identify yandere traits in real people around you. It’s a very dangerous world and stay safe!

Uh no v serious warnings; Manipulation mentions, kidnapping mentions, and just this is a lot of heavily influenced trans reader headcanons because I’m having a lot of gender struggles rn and that’s where my headspace is atm and this is also after and or during when you’ve/re been/being kidnapped and conditioned, a little NSFW because if I don't specify then they are aged up (around 20-25 is where I imagine the timeline that they actually captured you and have a hero carrier going for them already),

Bakugou Katsuki

This man loves you and you know it.

If you meet him in middle school and don’t like his original persona he’s gonna adjust it around you to slowly lure you in

He wants to be yours no matter what he sacrifices and if giving up his pride is what it takes so be it

He only shows his affection through physical gifts and touch because words of affirmation are not really his specialty.

He loves the idea of you being submissive towards him even if you’re not a girl.

Loves holding your hips when you’re doing something, especially if you’re good at cooking and make him stuff once you’ve become more docile and have stopped fighting him on leaving

So if you are trans or otherwise in the LGBTQ+ community for gender stuff he will do the most to make you comfortable. Binder? You didn’t even have to tell him your measurements cause bby he already knows

It’s who you are and he accepts that but it’s also a pride thing.

It’s also a way he tries to gain your trust in the early stages of your kidnapping.

He sees this as a way to prove he’s the only one out there who would take care of you and accept you so well, this also gives him more reason to tell you you belong there because of what happens to “your community”

If you think he doesn’t know before you come out to him then you’re wrong. He knows everything about you and nothing will get in the way from making you his.

He’ll only get you T-shots and other stuff like that if you promise to not talk to anyone else at the doctor’s about your relationship.

But the best part about all this is how absolutely submissive you’ll be under his care while you recover after surgery

Izuku Midoryia

There are a lot of things I see that headcanon Deku has a whole book on you but I feel like this boy has an entire series of books

He has taken notes on you since he met you and has a color coded system of books that detail on your beginning years too once he gets them out of your friends or family or even just you

If you met him before he had his quirk he would probably kidnap you once he got his quirk

He spent a lot of time writing how he would kidnap you if he had certain quirks

Anyways, he loves to lay his head on your stomach

He also likes it when you’re just writing or drawing and he can watch, writing things down is a very personal part of his life so when someone as special as you does it he gets all sappy and heart warmed

If you ever get the chance to look into one of his books about you and you complement him on it he will not be able to handle it

If you’re trans he will immediately start using your pronouns in the correct form

He wants to give you as much respect as you deserve so he just uses them naturally it’s just the way of things

He’s very nervous about getting you a binder, it’s just scary for him

He also goes back into his notebooks and changes your name and pronouns

He looks intensively into research about binders, T-shots, and surgery

He lets you get a binder after you say I love you the first time

Lets you get T-shots after your first year anniversary of being conditioned to be in love with him

Todoroki Shoto

So this boy is not very interested in talking to you when you first meet

It’s just he’s so scared that he’s going to mess you up and drag you into his own mess so he waits until he’s better or gets better to contact you

He loves to stare at you

Just while you’re doing nothing or asleep, especially when you’re talking though

He loves touching your hands and giving you things

He doesn’t really talk to you though and as much as he loves to watch you talk to people he just likes how quiet you are around him

He likes to make you food, even though he doesn’t know how to cook he’ll start learning for you

He’s def the big spoon no matter how tall you are around him just def the big spoon

If you are trans he’s just gonna nod it off then cuddle with you afterwards

He’s just super calm about everything

Top of the line binders and T-shots and check-ups by a special doctor that’s sworn to secrecy

Actually tracks down someone with a quirk that can modify your body permanently without surgery

But if he comes up fruitless in the en-devour (lmao) he will let you get surgery and will love how dependent and you get on him after

You’re just so sleepy and quiet but you’re submissive and cute

Will cry if you call him babe when you ask for something and will beg you to do it more and will get you 2x whatever you’re asking for

Has to remind himself often of your pronouns in his head but never slips up when speaking to you

Kaminari Denki

Okay this man loves to touch you. Like no warning just loves to put his hands on you

Hips and thigh guy I don’t make the rules

For some reason he likes to grab and stroke up and down your bottom half of your rib cage.

Puts his legs around yours when you’re sleeping

Likes to scrub your back and take care of you in a bath, not even in a sexual way (besides bath sex and fondling turn him off because of his quirk)

grabs the little part of your hips and thigh where they connect to your but and just squishes it

Gets so flustered when you wear yellow

But loves to see you in a pastel yellow even if you don’t think you look good he’ll always say how amazing he thinks you look

Tons and tons of compliments

absolutely loves holding your hand

Says I love you within the first couple minutes of kidnapping you

Power Bottom no matter your gender

If trans he will def go and get you a binder

Will make sure you don’t tell anyone about your relationship if you go get T-shots and stuff by holding your hand and giving you a little shock every time you get too close to saying something

Gets you tons of sex toys that help with dysphoria during sexy times (like thanks but ur a perv kami)

He doesn’t want to risk you if you get surgery so he will wait a couple years before he allows you to

Kirishima Eijiro

He actually saw you at the entrance exam for UA and he just immediately had hearts in his eyes

This boy is clingy af, if you even look away for 2 seconds he’ll start whining

Wants you to be the most comfortable person in the world

He likes the idea of you being the picture perfect little darling, cooking and cleaning and waiting for him to get home he wants you to depend on you

He needs you to depend on him! What is he good for otherwise?

Touch starved tbh

He likes to cuddle you when you first get kidnapped, like if you don’t let him touch you he’ll start crying

If you keep rejecting him he’ll get delusional instead and will just hug you anyways

If you’re trans and you want to ask him for stuff to make you feel comfortable like a binder he’s gonna use this to his advantage

You wanna shop for a binder? Two how cuddle session and he’ll consider taking your measurements

It’s gonna be hard for him to think of the safest way to get you testosterone or other hormone injections and stuff

He’s just concerned

Will lowkey try to convince you to drop the idea but if he’s not already delusional enough to ignore your feelings and you start crying then he’s just gonna comfort you

It’s gonna take a year or two to convince him but if you become more submissive and obedient for him he might be persuaded

In the end he’ll get you surgery and other things like that but he’s gonna need to speak to 30 different professionals about this just to be 200% sure it’s the right move.

Iida Tenya

Tenya isn't the most aggressive when it comes to things but he’s very stern and patient so he’ll have a little more freedom with disciplining you

He likes to hug you from behind

He starts to slowly stop raising his hands and yelling cause he knows it disturbs you and makes you flinch, plus you listen better when he whispers

When you cuddle he puts his legs between yours cause he wants you hold you whole

He covers his engines when y’all sleep together so you don’t scratch yourself on them

Lets you paint and draw and write but only under super vision and he analysis your work after to see how you feel

Compliments you a ton

Stern in the bedroom, very daddy/dom nothing else will do

Likes to compliment you

Loves it when you smile at him

Wants you to be comfortable out of any other option

If you’re trans then he’ll be pretty much the same as Shoto

Top of the line products and binders

Will be the first out of both of you to suggest surgery

Wants to look for a doctor with many experiences before he even asks you tho

You gotta admit that he is very sweet throughout the whole process and very supportive

He will also give you a personal doctor, but he will also have to sit in on sessions and the like to make sure you’re not concocting a plan to escape or anything

Thank you for reading this! Have a lovely day and if you have any suggestions just ask! However I can’t guarantee I’ll do everything. Maybe I’ll do a part two?

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marshmallowprotection · 3 years

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Highkey curious bout how Grave, Ray, n Su-Jin would interact with Nari :3

SE Saeran is definitely going to have a much harder time coming around to the idea of being around children and much less having children. Even if it's definitely been some time after all of the things that happens, he's still definitely in this place mentally where he feels like he can barely take care of himself and he would hate to screw up the life of some poor kid. In the case of GE Saeran, it's a good 5-7 years after the events of the After Ending that he and Lila start to talk about having children at all.

I imagine that it may be longer then that for SE Saeran to ever, if at all, consider this. But if we were to avoid getting into a deep meta about his feelings about that and say that somewhere in his future. Maybe ten or so years along the line, that he was more open to this sort of thing, Nari would be a possibility for them. I feel like his relationship with his daughter would be similar ultimately to the way that GE has a relationship with his daughter. It is just that Saeran is more reserved and shows Nari more of a quiet appreciation.

He would still make sure that she was well taken care of and that she knows that he cares about her very very deeply. He just has a hard time expressing those deep emotions even years after everything that happened. He is a very quiet and methodical man. His sense of humor is pretty dry but he tries his best. I imagine that bonding time for them is going out to get ice cream together.

His daughter is such a daddy's girl, so he never has to worry about impressing her or making her feel like he's listening to her when she's talking. Nari could be talking for hours and he's just sitting there listening to her as she pleases. Most of the time that's what they do together.

She can be drawing or doing one of her other little activities, and she'll be telling him all sorts of things and he'll just listen. It's kind of sweet. He does his best to engage her interests, but it's not always easy. He gets a lot of help from Lila though, so he never has to worry about that sort of thing. They're both equally committed to making sure that Nari knows that her parents care about her. Two people coming from a background with bad parents really want to be good parents.

SE Ray kind of has an easier time than some of the others and it has to do in part with the fact that he’s been looking after Su-Jin for the longest out of any of them, both in headspace and outside of it. He’s had the time to figure out the right ways to do things by that kid and how to interact with him, so it kind of gave him the prepared effort to be able to do that sort of thing.

Don’t get it twisted, he is just as paranoid about messing something up as Grave and Saeran are when it comes down to it. But, he masks that problem by trying to tend to details that he knows that he can control. He can make snacks and make sure that Nari is taken care of. She’d never have to ask. He’s already sliding into the room and handing her something that she needs before she can ask for it.

He spends an awfully long time making sure that her life is documented, too. It stems back into his photography to ground himself when he gets paranoid that life isn’t real, but in another way, it’s so that Nari will know that her family loved her if she ever need to see that. That actually kind of stems into something more as Nari gets older and she can talk, because she’s quite the inquisitive child and she likes learning and doing all kinds of things. She likes little photo shoots, and determinedly gets dressed up for them.

It’s because she’s seen her mama do that with Ray so many times before, and she wants to do it, too! You best believe that if she asks, Ray makes a whole thing out of it. If Nari wants to be a little princess, he’ll make happen, and he’ll make sure that she smiles and giggles the entire time. She can dress up however she wants and he’ll do his best to make sure sure she gets to help with the entire process.

That’s her cute little nickname, by the way. Everyone has a little nickname that they use for her, and Ray just calls her a little princess. Ray is one of the few people that humor her when she wants to play pretend, sitting there and listening whenever she’s got imaginary teas and conversations that are of the utmost importance.

Grave [SE Suit Saeran] has said before that he doesn't really know how to act around kids and he isn't really the biggest fan of them. A part of that has to do with the fact that he just assumes that he's going to do something horrible without meaning to and it's going to traumatize some poor kid.

He may have come to terms with the fact that he knows that he's not going to hurt Lila ever again. But that doesn't mean that he's not going to be very afraid of hurting someone else. I imagine when he sees Nari, he sees Lila and he sees... when he was a child. If Saeran has very strong fears about turning into his father or his mother, then Grave has them tenfold.

I actually feel like he would try to avoid Nari for quite a long time because he wouldn't want to say something rude and make her cry. It's for her safety and for his. He just can't imagine that he would be a good parental figure. It's just not something that he can see for himself. It's just really hard for him. He's not going to avoid it if he happens to front and he has to interact with Nari, but he will lean into the silent figure type. It kind of helps Saeran is quiet. Grave can play it off as that.

However, that's not going to happen forever and he will eventually reach out to Nari. It might be the case if she happens to gain a sudden interest in music. She's a very creative child, and he kind of saw that coming because her mother is a very talented person.

But if she were to consider playing around with instruments for the first time, I imagine that Lila would bring it up to him to see if he would be interested in sharing that with her. That would probably be the key to him being able to make some kind of relationship with her. He would still be kind of standoffish for the most part. But he would be that kind of person that would ruffle her hair after she did a good job practicing.

With a very quiet, "Good job, mouse." She gets a cute nickname like her mom does. Her mom is "my Dove", but Nari is "little Mouse". Nari likes the honest praise. She always will because her manners with Grave and beam, so it's a start.

Su-Jin [Kid Saeran] definitely wasn't sure how to feel about there being another kid in the house and he was kind of anxious that the kid may not like him and he made do the wrong thing. It is kind of like he is her big brother. That's kind of the way that he rationalizes it and the way that he can handle it.

Su-Jin isn't Saeran, and he's not Nari's dad, but he doesn't say anything if she calls him her dad because he knows it's kind of hard to explain the system stuff to a kid. He really likes it when they can watch cartoons together or colors some pictures. Most of the time when they interact it's kind of like they just get to do fun kid stuff together. Nari has her own cute little hoodies that match the one that Su-Jin wears! Hers is like a mouse though.

Nari has definitely noticed that Su-Jin is a lot more bubbly then her dad is. She has a lot of fun hanging out with him and when she's a little older and she's able to understand everything, she likes that Su-Jin always is a good person to come to when she needs a friend.

Honestly, they like to watch a lot of cartoons together. That's usually how they spend their quality time. You can always find them in a makeshift pillow fort watching Disney movies and just snacking on whatever they can get their hands on as far as whatever snacks are reachable. And if they're talking about anything, they're usually talking about their special interest and it happens to be cute animals for the both of them. For Nari, that's mice! For Su-Jin, it's rabbits.

They're both children so find a lot of common ground with things that they both like. However, Lila has to be mindful of that when Su-Jin is doing things for Nari, he's very helpful with her, because Lila is his big sister. Looking out for Nari feels like a big responsibility! But, he thinks the thing that he has to do to be a good big brother is to make her as much ice cream as possible. And that's not exactly always the best thing to do. But his heart is in the right place.

#mod kait #ask #anon #se saeran #se suit saeran #se ray #su-jin #kid saeran #secret ending #assistant Lila AU #saeran x lila #lila lancelot oc #cmc #character analysis #nari choi oc

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lichbarry · 3 years

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A host’s perspective on Molly, Lucien, and approaching identity (spoilers for c2e117)

This is NOT going to be as eloquent as I want it to be and I can only speak for myself and my own opinions, but this is for @creativside and anyone else who wants to hear this particular perspective. Again, I’m speaking only for myself, not for every single system, especially not for Molly or Lucien fictives. I’m also referring only to DID systems here but OSDD systems, I see you.

I don’t really advertise it on this blog (or anywhere), but I’m the host of a DID system. My relationship with the system is not quite the same as other systems we’ve gotten to talk to but nevertheless communication has greatly improved since our diagnosis and I dare say that I feel “valid” enough to try to sludge through how I’m feeling about the whole situation with Molly/Lucien. Put under a cut b/c it’s long

For anyone who might not understand the connection I’m trying to draw: a situation where there is one body that has been inhabited by two different consciousnesses who are not otherwise aware of each other and who have different personalities, abilities, and ambitions is a situation that directly parallels the textbook DID experience. Having people call you by a different name, talk about things you supposedly did with them but have no recollection of, and having people ask or expect that they will be able to talk to this other person in your body whenever they want are all things that pretty much every system goes through. I’m not saying that Lucien has DID, but there are a lot of identical and/or incredibly similar terms and concepts being thrown around regarding him, so for the sake of this thinkpiece I’m essentially going to be acting like he does.

I’m going to make some bullet points and just try to give my two cents on how everyone is approaching this situation:

Molly was a real person, just as much as Lucien. This was discussed by some of the characters, but I’m just validating it. Lucien called Molly a “fragment” of himself-- fragment is a term systems use to describe a certain “type” of alter. DID fragments are alters who typically aren’t as “developed” as some of the others in the system, meaning that they may only exist to feel a particular emotion, store a certain memory, or carry out one very specific function. In my experience, fragments do have names just like any other system member, but likely don’t have much distinguishing personality beyond that. From what we know about Molly when he first “woke up”, calling him a fragment would be accurate. He was, originally, a consciousness who only knew a singular feeling-- emptiness. That’s all he was. But he was still his own consciousness, his own unique person, and as we all saw, he was able to grow beyond his emptiness and develop into a fully realized creation (to borrow a term). His being a fragment wouldn’t have invalidated him as being his own separate person in the first place, but the Molly we knew was no longer a fragment; he was just... a person! By the time we parted ways with him, he was just as complex and unique of an identity as Lucien is. He is not as simple as Lucien is making him out to be, we know this.

Lucien implied that Molly integrated into him and is not dormant. What do these terms mean? Dormancy (or becoming dormant) is experienced a little bit differently for each system, but generally an alter becoming dormant means they no longer appear in the headspace/inner world, cannot communicate or interact with any system members, and will not be able to front/switch out (take control of the body). In our system, becoming dormant is equivalent to becoming comatose. Due to the way our inner world is constructed, we do know where the “body” of our dormant alter is, but we cannot interact with her in any way, nor does she interact with us or appear anywhere else in the headspace. Integration, on the other hand, is better explained in the context of fusion from Steven Universe. A few years ago, I (the current host) integrated with our gatekeeper & primary protector (basically the one who managed the functioning of the system). Where once we were two separate consciousnesses who inhabited the same headspace, we are now joined together into someone who is a little bit of both of us, just like when two gems fuse in SU. I also happen to be the core (the consciousness who was in the body when we were born), so it could be seen as her simply “returning” to me, or fusing back with me after having broken off during her formation. Complete system integration is the end goal of some therapies, but there are some alters who view integration to be the same as dying, since the alter as a singular unique consciousness no longer exists but is instead “merged” into the consciousness of another system member. Lucien said something along the lines of his soul having been fragmented but now fused back together. He appears to believe that he is the only consciousness currently in his body. This means that Molly is not “trapped” inside somewhere waiting to be set free. It also implies that it would not be possible to “get Molly back” as we remember him without finding a way to fracture Lucien’s soul again. Depending on your view of integration, you can view this two ways:

Molly is Lucien, and/or Molly is dead. Matt’s slips of the tongue in continuously calling him Mollymauk further supports the idea that Molly is integrated, not dormant, and therefore is Lucien in one way or another. Molly was, after all, a part of Lucien all along, and despite having developed into his own personality in the wild 2 years he was fronting for, all that he was are now part of what Lucien is. That being said, it is clear that Lucien, just like Mollymauk, is his own person with his own goals, quirks, abilities, and personality traits. Aspects of Mollymauk do live in him, but being fused does not mean that we’re going to recognize all parts of who Molly was in who Lucien is now. Lucien (we’re assuming) is the core, the original consciousness of the body, and is thus far more developed than Molly ever had the chance to be. They’re the same person in the sense that Molly is no longer a separate entity, but not the same person in that Lucien has any of Molly’s memories or would suddenly feel compelled to start acting more like him just because they integrated.

Mollymauk is not back; Lucien is. The Mollymauk we knew is not there anymore, and it’s a good time to mourn him. I don’t know what kind of DND fuckery Matt or the cast might be able to do, but from my perspective of what’s going on, Molly isn’t going to suddenly pop out or break free or anything like that. Mollymauk as an individual died when we saw him die, and I think the Mighty Nein are at least starting to realize that. Lucien even genuinely offered his condolences. Again, it’s DND, there’s always some chance that they might find a way to talk to their friend again, but by this point the idea is making me uncomfortable. Trying to separate Molly from Lucien again at this point feels... unnatural and disrespectful. No one has ever sought to de-integrate the alter that I integrated with, but I would be very disturbed if they did, and the idea of doing that even in this context unsettles me. Find hope in the possibility if you want to, but I’m probably never going to support it. Molly is a part of Lucien now and I think both we and the Nein need to accept that. Lucien may be evil, but he has just as much right to be in control of his own body as Molly did (arguably more, but I’m not getting into that debate). Whether you like Lucien or not, it’s his body, now only his, and no one has any right to take that away from him. I know it’s not exactly the same and it’s probably not how people mean to come off, but I can’t help imagining me in this position. If someone was very close with the alter I integrated with and did everything in their power to try to make her split off again, even if it meant harming me or making me lose autonomy over my mind & body... you can see how that’s a very uncomfortable thought, at the least. Again, I’m not saying anyone is inherently bad for wanting Molly back or missing him, I’m just saying that the situation we’re being presented with is that it’s only Lucien now and we & the m9 should respect that. If you want to mourn Molly, now’s as good a time as any. You even have Lucien’s blessing. That being said...

Lucien doesn’t want to know about Molly, and that’s fine. As someone pointed out (I think Jester?), Molly didn’t want to know about Lucien either. As is the case with a lot of systems who don’t have well-developed communication, they’re practically strangers to each other. All they knew about each other is what was on their body when they woke up and what other people (also strangers) told them they supposedly did once. Again, parts of Molly exist in Lucien, and I’m sure aspects of Lucien existed in Molly, and even now there are some similarities to draw. But neither Lucien nor Molly have any obligation to feel kinship towards each other. In their eyes, they are two completely different people who have never interacted. Systems only start to feel like families after a long time of having good communication, of developing relationships, of working through trauma or the complications that come with having DID. From what we’ve been told, Molly and Lucien likely never even developed a headspace or been in a situation where they would’ve had the possibility of actually meeting. People are just talking to them about someone they didn’t know and honestly the typical response is to just nod along in the moment and decide if you really want to unpack that later. And not wanting to explore who this stranger who inhabited your body was is a completely valid response! Especially given that Lucien doesn’t explicitly have DID-- he doesn’t have the goal of trauma recovery, nor does he have any reason to find out more about who Molly was given that he’s now supposedly fully integrated. Again, it’s more a matter of autonomy. Lucien is his own person, and to him Molly might as well have been something he called himself when he spent 2 years blackout drunk (which, let’s be real, is a pretty accurate comparison). Sometimes it’s fun to hear accounts of what other system members got up to when they fronted, but that’s only after years of therapy and working through my own feelings about having DID. Before that, there were times when it felt like a frustrating invasion of privacy, or an unnerving sense of losing control of not only what I did, but what it meant to be me. I don’t really see Lucien struggling with these things, but I’m just saying that there’s only so much he can be expected to care about who Molly was given his circumstances.

This got super long and I’m never sure how to conclude these things, or if that’s even all my thoughts on the matter. Send me asks if you want to I guess, just please be respectful. I’m not trying to start any arguments, I’m just giving my perspective/how I feel about this situation as a system host.

tldr; Molly integrated with Lucien and it’s more respectful/probable to assume that he’s not coming back the way people wanted him to. Getting Molly back the way people expected is incredibly unsettling to me because it takes away Lucien’s autonomy and basically says that Molly is more important than Lucien’s control over his own body because we like Molly more. Their situation does resemble the experience of being part of a system in a lot of ways and I don’t know how to feel about it besides just kind of awkwardly going “ahaha” and looking around to see how singlets are approaching this.

Again, not saying there’s a right or wrong way to feel about this, nor am I “diagnosing” Lucien with DID. Just talking about connections I’ve made and the things that I relate to/make me uncomfortable. Whether Matt is aware of how much this situation resembles DID or not, I think that he’s handling it incredibly well and have no complaints about Lucien or Molly’s characterizations.

#cr spoilers #did #dissociative identity disorder #mollymauk tealeaf #lucien #the nonagon #cr c2e117 #c2e117 #spoilers #not sure how this post is gonna go over but here it is

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cosmicclownboy · 4 years

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Me finishing something I struggled to write....wow it was actually likely :)

When his father is alive the idea of going to therapy is suffocating. It continues to be throughout his years in the air force until the day it's mandated because by that point everything was suffocating. Waking up. Doing his physio. Simple tasks.Hard tasks. He had survived against all the odds but a part of him felt dead. So a part of him was in this limbo where he always felt like he was dying. The first session he stares at the clock inching the minutes until the clock hand rests on the hour change. The second he stares at the glass of water. By the third session he's exhausted he hasn't slept he still hears the screams and the blast in his mind so he slowly lets the man in not to everything. Not to his dad but to the blast. He was diagnosed with Complex PTSD and he was offered many ways to help with it. He goes to his sessions. He does his physio. Alex slowly builds himself up then he goes back to work.

It goes well for the most part until someone slams a door shut and he has to spend an hour in the bathroom trying to eradicate the weight on his chest and how to stop feeling cold. His therapist offers anti-anxiety medication and whilst he nods his head eyes cloudy he hears his father's words.

"Manes men don't cry it's a sign of weakness. We are soldiers, not Sally's"

He tries different antidepressants settling on one that helps his thoughts slower and that helps him sleep. None of his friends knows it when he heads back to Roswell except Kyle after he's let in on the alien secret and he makes him his doctor in case of shenanigans.

His father dies and he thinks maybe things can be different better in a way he never thought possible. The statue gets put up and he has a panic attack so bad he spends the next two days in bed. It takes him two weeks to think about it really think about it. To face the battle he has to jump right in and the idea of therapy doesn't seem so suffocating any more he's no longer afraid just determined to make strides. With Kyle's help, he finds one that specialises in childhood domestic abuse as well as having experience with veterans. She helps him in ways he didn't think was possible and maybe a year ago the idea of the traffic light method would have had him rolling his eyes or silently repressing whatever emotions he had. But maybe this could be a good thing.

Michael is the first to notice they are on a recon mission together and he's passing across the really good coffee from Bean me up he raises his eyebrows at the sight of an orange bracelet.

"Didn't think you liked orange? expanding the airforce's colour scheme?"

He huffs at that. Who said he didn't like orange?

"My therapist said because of my upbringing and complex PTSD I have a hard time vocalising or communicating my feelings so she suggested a traffic light method. Green is a good day when my emotions are in check. Orange is okay I can manage the day. Red is when-

"everything too much"

"Yeah. On red days I write down everything as to why it's red including my triggers and talk them over with her. It also helps people around me recognise when I'm in that headspace"

Michael shuts his door purses his lips and blows into his own coffee cup.

"I'm glad you're talking to someone"

"Me too. Now, are we gonna recreate a buddy cop movie extraterrestrial style or what? Come on, Guerin don't tell me you don't want to unleash your nerd. This is a safe place"

Michael takes a swig of his own coffee shaking his head before chuckling and taking the wheel. Maybe they share a lot more longing looks then friends would normally. They've just always had a connection under the surface beating and bubbling all on its own.Unspoken and beautiful.

More often then not he wears the orange one. The first time the green bracelet graces his wrist is the day the homeless dog he found slowly offers her belly to be rubbed. Yeah, that day was worthy of a green one. The day Nova finds him and the days that follow which end in his house having a dog bed in pretty much every corner. He might end up replacing his leather couch but who cares it's just a couch. It has nothing on her.

It's only when the days veer closer to the fourth anniversary of that day he truly struggles. Phantom pain comes in waves and he grips every surface he comes in contact with. The days slowly blur together it's a cocktail of depression, sleep deprivation and nightmares that has him on the Tuesday reach for the red bracelet. He finds the Crashdown is a minute from where he is and he's in desperate need for coffee.

Communicating hasn't always been easy for him and Michael especially their fight and flight being fight or fuck over the past decade but they've been trying their hardest to strive to be better to build a foundation. The bracelets were always something Michael immediately sought out every time they were in each other's vicinity. He saunters into the Crashdown buckle first and smooshes himself into the booth without a second thought grabbing one of the menus and seeing what new alien pun food Isobel helped conjure. It isn't until he finishes his order smiling at Liz that he finally looks up to Alex who's completely dissociated. His eyes are dark and sunken his milkshake untouched and he just looks lost. Michael's eyes drift to Alex's fingers noting the tremors before his eyes peer up further and he sees the red bracelet. Michael has a choice at this moment he could leave Alex to it but something in his heart tells him that the days of leaving are behind them. So he slowly reaches for the right hand that tremors and lightly laces the fingers between them. By the time he's halfway through his fries, Alex is more self-aware. He looks to their joined fingers and Michael's mouth completely stuffed with fries and looks softly at him. He doesn't unlace them.

"Want to get out of here?"

They end up in their spot the desert vast and unnerving.

"Did I do the right thing driving us here does it bring up anything we can go back if you want? You never really told any of us what to do on a code red day".

He's right he didn't say to any of them what to do. Truth is anytime Alex usually has one of these days he locks himself in a room and allows every ugly emotion to override him until his body tells him otherwise. Today was a new one in that he wanted connection. He wanted to be with Michael and despite the fear of the unknown he confesses this to Michael.

"It'll be four years Sunday"

"Since your leg?"

Alex nods he doesn't really know how to delve into it the only people who know what happened are the people at the airforce. People don't ask they don't want to know and the people who do aren't worthy of the conversation. Not to mention a lot of his job is classified he can only offer what he can.

"It was meant to be a simple job. Twenty of us in and out.Forty minutes on the dot. I was meant to hack a server. We got to the room we swept the entire place we didn't realise there was a pressure-sensitive bomb until Avril took his foot off. He was the youngest".

Recalling it makes his body shiver his hands shake but he needs to do this.

"Only eight of us made it out. Everyone else had spouses and kids. I had a dad who when I woke up from a two-week coma said I couldn't get blown up right. I didn't understand it. I'm good at compartmentalising stuff it's what he taught me to do my whole life but that day...I felt everything then nothing."

They lay there for a while staring at the stars tracing them with their fingers with one hand lacing the other. There's a light breeze softly swaying in the air Alex softly turns his body to Michael's until they are laying on the side facing one another.

"I get that feeling"

The confession Michael makes his heart ache and tighten he ushers the cowboy closer his fingers searching for his curls to slowly run his fingers through. Michael ends up the little spoon and judging by the little hum he makes he thinks he doesn't mind a little bit. Michael had the essence of a cat it's one of the many reasons he loves him.

"I know you do"

He pulls Michael tighter resting his head on his curls lightly pecking the crevice of his head.

"I think it's probably why we push each other away so much. I don't want the painful stuff I've been through to trigger or touch your stuff and neither do you so we pick a reason to walk away thinking the other one will be better off. I haven't been better off have you?"

Michael removes himself from his hold much to his disappointment and sitting up because he needs this conversation to be that of what it is a conversation.

"There hasn't been a day you've been gone where I thought that Alex. I'm just sorry for so many things"

"me too"

By the time he makes it to his house Alex is wiped he needs to feed Nova before she barks the house down. He also should really clean his prosthetic liner doesn't want to wind up getting sick. Not to mention taking his pain meds. Trust Michael to recognise all of this and tells him he'll feed her. He wants to argue but his eyes are drifting.

When he wakes up there's a glass of water his pain and anxiety meds on the bedside table and he's trying to remember how the hell he made it to his bed. Last time he checked he KO'd on the sofa as Nova was yipping at Michael's feet.

Michael.

Alex fumbles for his crutch and heads for the living room maybe he shouldn't make a presumption but he's pretty sure he knows his alien from the back of his hand and sure enough, he comes across to Michael and his Nova sharing the couch or Nova dominating both these things as if they are her own. It's the first time in a long time he's slept and he's hoping it's the first of many times he wakes up to Michael in his house. By the time he makes it back to the bedroom, he's staring at the red bracelet on his wrist and the notebook Michael also placed by the pill bottles sticky note on the top with a drawing of a lopsided penny. He spends twenty minutes writing it all down his triggers that day the way he felt all to make sure for his next session he can talk about it continue to make progress. By the time he's put the pen down and taken his anti-anxiety pill, he's greeted by his girl in the zoomies frame of mind.

"Hey, girl. Do you want to play? Give me a minute to put the leg on sweetie and I'll take you to the garden"

He stares at the three bracelets all meaning different things. Today isn't a red bracelet day so he turns to the orange one. It makes the most sense, doesn't it? Today he can manage yet there's something calling him to the green one. Can he go from red to green from a couple of hours? He'll make sure to ask in his next sessions but Nova excitedly barking wanting to play is reason enough for him to tie the green braids to his wrist.

"Do you always feel the need to dramatically lean against doorways".

His Michael senses are tingling he can't decide if it's a loving Michael thing or maybe the whole cosmic alien soulmate thing.

"You're wearing green today".

"Observant too"

He takes the coffee on offer delighting in the way the black bitterness soothes his soul.

"I think today could be a good day. Nova's happy. Plus you and I had an actual conversation which didn't end in tears, fucking or brokeback mountain angst"

Michael's not wearing his hat or his belt he's just leaning against the door frame with bedhead of the ages curls veering in every destination. He wants to run his hands through them and hold him. Fuck it who says he can't. He curls his head into his shoulder much to his surprise and tucks his arm to hold his waist. He feels the chuckle rumble against his ears

"We've had what ten years of it angst is overrated. You know what's underrated?"

"What?"

"Having breakfast. Holding hands. Watching a movie. Being boyfriends"

Alex feels a kiss against his head and peaks up to Michael softly cupping his cheeks he makes sure Alex's eyes are on his not looking away.

"I love you. If you aren't there yet that's okay. I don't want to mess with your recovery. If you don't want to be with me after everything that's okay too. I just want you to know I'm here and I'm not going anywhere"

Alex puts the cup of coffee down and brings his head up so their foreheads touch.

"I love you too".

Alex knows love won't cure everything and being with Michael doesn't mean it's automatically going to be green bracelets all the time. The red bracelet won't cease to exist. He still gets red days. But he does know this. Whatever the day and whatever colour he wears Michael will rub circles into his hand and hold it just the same. Some days he has a depressive episode or an anxiety attack and between his therapist and the people he loves they help him recognise it's okay. It's okay to be loved. It's okay to need and want people. His father's words can stay in the ground with him. Alex is finally content.

#malex #malexfic #this ended up really long #woops

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ghostboybabies · 3 years

Text

little ghost boy || [JATP Agere/CGLRE] “Someone Who Cares”- Chapter 10

A/N: This is sad, warning for Reggie kinda talking badly about himself. This is an important plot point that needed to happen at some point, might as well get it over with. I hope you guys like it!

"Why're you pouting, Little Rockstar?"

Luke, Julie, and Alex sat side by side on the couch in the studio, Reggie previously busying himself with coloring at the coffee table. Julie let him use her old art supplies, crayons and markers and stickers, and do whatever he wanted. Now, he sat, tapping a red crayon rhythmically against his paper, holding it between two fingers.

With every tap, a red dot appeared on the paper. He seemed bored, and pouty, as Luke pointed out. He looked up to see all three of his friends staring at him.

"Not pouting." he mumbled, adjusting his crayon in his hand, interrupting the rhythm, and drawing a little heart with it on the edge of the paper.

"Yeah you are. What's up, Flower?" Julie asked.

Alex looked at Julie curiously. "Flower?" he questioned.

"Pwetty as a flower," Reggie explained in his childish voice, not replying to Julie's question. He bit at his lip, switching out his crayon to another color.

Alex nodded, "That's cute."

Julie ignored Alex, still waiting for a response from the toddler-minded boy. Reggie looked up, "I'm fine," he whined, only pouting even more. Luke sighed, leaning forward a bit towards him.

"Come here, Reg," he ordered, patting his lap a bit. Reggie hesitantly jumped up, making his way over nervously, and sitting on his lap. He settled, feeling better as Luke wrapped his arms around his waist, holding him close. "You stopped pouting," Luke noticed. "Did you just want cuddles?"

Reggie blushed a bit, nodding as he casted his eyes down to Luke's hands around his waist. "You could've just asked, baby." Luke sighed, kissing the side of his head. Alex watched the whole scene, smiling a bit. Luke and Julie were really good with Reggie.

Julie and Reggie had a different bond then Luke and Reggie did, you could tell. Both were affectionate, and close. But still different. Reggie seemed to prefer playing with Luke, but usually requested affection from Julie. Julie was usually the one to correct his behavior if he needed it, while Luke was better at praise and compliments.

To Alex, someone who took care of Willie alone, it was interesting to see them work together.

Reggie and Willie hadn't talked yet, but there was a playdate scheduled for the next day. It had been around a week since Reggie told Alex, and not much had happened. There was no need for a long educational conversation on age regression, because Willie had already done that for him.

Reggie had been big besides a few quick moments the whole week due to an gig that took place the day prior, focusing on band rehearsals and such. This is where Reggie's internal struggle began.

When he found out and processed that Luke had cancelled band practice for him, he immediately felt bad about how much time Luke and Julie gave up for him. Luke and Julie had other, better things to do besides take care of him. Reggie used to go long periods of time without regressing, he didn't need it.

If Luke and Julie really knew what was going on, there'd be a lecture about repressing regression waiting for him. It wasn't like he was planning on telling him.

Today, Reggie didn't even count on slipping. He woke up small the morning after the gig, the regression probably being a result of a combination of things. He had just worked hard for a week or so to make sure everything turned out perfect. He also switched from almost daily regression to none at all, so eventually, it happened without his control.

Reggie didn't seem to realize it, but Julie and Luke were kinda relieved when he regressed. They had been kind of worried about the sudden decline of time in littlespace, and they missed taking care of him if they were honest.

But this internal struggle, of feeling guilty for needing help and extra care, was what caused Reggie's weird behavior. He wanted cuddles and attention but he didn't wanna waste anyone's time. But he was already small and being big felt so hard, and he knew that Luke and Julie weren't gonna leave him alone and not take care of him while he was little.

Well, there was one exception to the "not leaving him alone" rule. Nap time.

It wasn't a requirement that Reggie took naps every day. But sometimes, if he got sleepy, one of his friends would lay him down and come back half an hour later to wake him up. Sometimes, they'd stay with him and they'd cuddle. Others, he'd be left alone with a stuffie and lots of blankets while Luke helped Julie make herself a snack.

And if Reggie woke up before they came back to check on him, he'd play with a stuffie quietly until someone did. Today, when he woke up in Julie's bedroom, he did something different.

His decision was impulsive and not thought through. One moment, he was sitting in Julie's bed, feeling bad about everything. And the next, he was in CD Sundays, surrounded by a few toys.

How had he gotten here?

Reggie tried to play by himself. He really did. He used to do it all the time.

A few toy cars would entertain him for hours. But now, it seemed that occupying himself without a caregiver was impossible. But he kept trying.

He didn't need them. He was only wasting their time.

He got frustrated eventually, throwing the red toy car to the ground with a huff. A million questions seemed to take over his mind at once, overriding the childish, innocent, and playful thoughts that usually occupied his mind while he was small.

Why wasn't this fun? When did he start crying? Why did he want a hug from Mama and Daddy so much right now?

These were to many questions for a baby. To many emotions. He needed them, he realized. Everything felt like to much without them. Taking care of himself was harder then he remembered.

"Where's Reggie?" Julie's panicked voice sounded as she ran out of her room and down the stairs.

"In your room?" Alex questioned from his spot on the living room couch, sitting up. Julie shook her head,

"He's gone. Is he hiding?"

Luke jumped up, running his fingers through his hair. "Maybe he woke up early and went to the studio?" He looked to Alex, who nodded.

"I'll check. You two, search the house."

They all agreed on roles, splitting up in an effort to find the little.

But when they came up empty handed, Julie became panicky, while Luke grew frustrated. Alex paced around the room, while Julie searched it, and Luke sat on the bed. "Who the hell decided to give a little teleportation powers?"

"An idiot." Julie replied. She had one thought lingering in the back of her mind that made her scared. What if Caleb got him?

Yeah, it was unlikely that the evil ghost appeared in her house, took only Reggie, and left. But it was technically a possibility. A scary one, at that.

"He could be anywhere," Alex sighed. Luke ran his fingers through his hair, pausing.

"Technically, yes," He began, sitting up all the way. "But I know one place he used to go to while little." he realized, jumping up.

"I'm gonna go check somewhere. You guys just stay here in case he comes back, okay?"

Julie and Alex nodded, watching Luke poof out.

"Baby!"

Reggie glanced up from his curled up position when he heard Luke's voice, revealing his teary face. He made grabby hands immediately, "Dada!" he whined.

Just like Luke had done around a month ago, he ran over and dropped down to sit next to him. He hugged him close, holding him in his arms tightly. "You scared the hell out of us, you know that?" he pulled away, taking a deep breath and he looked over Reggie's face.

"Sowwy, didn' mean to scawe anyone." Reggie mumbled with a sniffle, rubbing at his face. Add that to the list of thinks he felt guilty for.

"What are you doing here?" Luke questioned, looking around. He noticed the toy cars and his stuffed animal scattered over the floor, looking back to him. "You disappeared during your nap and came here? Why?"

"Felt bad. Didn' wanna waste your time." Reggie explained.

"What? You're not wasting my time-" he cut himself off, pausing. "I love taking care of you, and so does Julie. How long have you felt like this?"

"Y-you cancelled band practice," his voice became a little clearer as he managed to force himself into a slightly bigger headspace so that he could talk. "You and Juwie give up lots of time for me. You shouldn't have to."

"I know we don't have to, we do this because we want to. And because we care about you." Luke sighed, cupping the side of his face and wiping his tears with his thumb. "And you came here to be little by yourself?"

Reggie nodded. "I used to play by my m'self, a-and take care of m'self," he explained, bringing his thumb up to his lips. "B-but it's to hard, Daddy." he cried, his eyes glossing over as he began to sniffle and sob again. Any 'big' part of his mind slipped away as he cried, reaching out for Luke. Luke opened his arms once more, allowing him to bury his head in his chest and snuggle into him.

"Shh, baby. I know," he swayed in place a bit, rubbing his back as he tried to help calm him down. "Little boys shouldn't have to take care of themselves. That's what Mommy's and Daddy's are for, Rockstar."

"I wish you would've talked to us before things got this bad," he spoke as Reggie pulled away, wiping at his eyes again.

"m' sowwy." Reggie muttered, bringing his thumb to his lip again. He felt a lot better now. He wasn't a waste of time, or annoying. He wasn't getting in the way of anything. Luke and Julie simply cared about him, so they liked caring for him.

That's just how it worked.

"Don't be. If this is anyone's fault, it's mine, for not talking to you when I thought something was wrong." Luke sighed, seemingly upset with himself. Reggie tilted his head curiously. "After regressing with Alex for the first time, you stopped regressing completely and avoided talking about it at all costs. Something felt off and I should've asked about it." Luke explained.

"It's okays!" he assured, settling his thumb into his mouth and speaking around it.

"Still. Talk to me next time you're feeling bad, okay? Or talk to Julie, just don't keep it inside. It'll build up to something like this eventually."

Reggie nodded.

"We're gonna clean up these toys and then go home, okay? We'll have a movie night and cuddle and talk more about this later, alright?"

Another nod.

They did exactly what Luke said they would. They picked up the toys and went home. Julie and Alex fussed over Reggie, hugging him and asking him if he was okay a million times over before helping Luke set up the laptop to play a movie for him. Luke explained to Julie what happened, and they agreed to actually talk to him about it later.

For now, they just needed some family time. Then when he was big, they'd talk it over. And the next day, they'd go have fun in the park.

Sometimes, things didn't always work the way Reggie wanted them to. He never wanted anyone to know about his regression. For a long time, he didn't want to be a little. Sometimes, the things he viewed as bad turned out good.

Luke finding out about him led to him feeling safer regressing, and adjusting to a cute family dynamic they were slowly building. Being little made him happy. Hiding in the CD Shop taught him that his friends cared about him, no matter how insecure or anxious he got.

And that lesson was one of the most important things he could learn. Remembering that he wasn't annoying, and that he had people there for him, was important. Not just important for him, but for anyone.

You have someone there for you, just like Reggie. Someone who cares about you, flaws and all. And if you think you don't, then you'll find them soon.

Reggie was just lucky enough to find those people early on.

A/N: Please leave feedback in the reblogs/replies/my askbox! Do you like how I wrote this situation? This whole book is about Reggie adjusting to and accepting his headspace, and this was an important step. He knew that he had his friends, but he realized how much they really cared in this chapter.

also I'm pretty sure this chapter makes the word count of this fic like 20,000 so that's cool!

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #alex mercer #jatp littlespace #little!reggie #little!reggie jatp #cg!luke jatp #cg!julie jatp #jatp agere #jatp age regression #julie and the phantoms agere

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stylesvolume94 · 4 years

Text

She’s Moved On

July 21, 2020 // 11:03 pm

“Ah, c’mon H, I’m sorry!” Benny was trailing behind a stomping Harry attempting to get him to understand his remorse. “Listen, I didn’t plan for tonight to go down the way it did...you know that if I had any idea she was going to show up I wouldn’t have asked you to come with!”

Harry suddenly spun around just as they had stepped up to his apartment door. Face red with anger and fists clenching at the hoodie in his hands as a reminder to not hit anything, Harry got up in Benny’s face not bothering to keep his voice down.

“That’s just it, Benny! Never wanted to go in the first place, but you always have to push and push!” Benny cast his head down slightly, furrowing his brows and clenching his jaw in frustration. He had only wanted to get his friend out of hiding and around good company, but he never expected her to be there. Then again, it was a very popular fair and the whole group knew that Brayley still lived in the area.

After several minutes of heavy breathing and counting back from one hundred, Harry closed his eyes and brought his hands to his face, hiding his shame in the soft black hoodie. He shook his head trying to rid his anger away the best he could. He knew it wasn’t Benny’s fault that she showed up, anyone could’ve shown and if anything, it was Harry’s fault. He was the one that dated her, not Benny or any of his other friends. Being the first time in years he had seen her, he was more than taken aback.

With a final shake of his head, he ran his hands down his face. “Just please leave. Wanna be alone for the rest of the night.” Harry turned to put the key in the lock, having a bit of trouble from his trembling hands.

“M’sorry, Harry. Really, I am.” Benny’s voice came out as a whisper and Harry knew he really meant what he said. Out of their small group of friends, Benny and Harry were the closest. He had been there on Christmas day when Harry was alone and in a fit of rage from his breakup. Had been there when Harry broke down in the worst amount of guilt and shame he had ever felt. He was the one who drove Harry to his first therapy appointment and rehab group and has never once made Harry feel badly for his past mistakes.

With these reminders, Harry turned back to his best mate, glancing up at him and offering the smallest tinge of a smile. “Yeah, I know.” He whispered. “S’ok. Just tired now. I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, a’right. Goodnight, H.” Benny retreated towards the elevator just down the hall as Harry entered his apartment. He went straight to the kitchen and opened up the cabinet closest to the fridge as if on instinct. He furrowed his brow when he was met with a few glass dishes and then dropped his head in humiliation. He’s been sober for years and here he was looking for a drink. He felt sick.

Opting on a glass of apple juice, Harry sat at his dining table, staring at nothing in particular as the darkness surrounded him. The only light coming through was from the moon and Harry wondered if Brayley was laying on the beach with her new boyfriend, talking about nothing as her face split into a shit eating grin and her hands gestured wildly in the summer breeze. Tears sprung to Harry’s eyes at the image.

With a defeated sigh, Harry carefully placed his head in his palms and rubbed at his temples. The events of hours ago replayed in his head as he remembered seeing his ex-girlfriend for the first time in several years; a real wakeup call and kick in the ass if anyone were to ask how he felt the moment his eyes landed on her beautiful figure.

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7:18 pm

“C’mon man, it’ll be fun as shit. You know Dax will be there and he’s bringing his bag, so don’t pussy out now. Come get high with us, eat some shit food, and go on a few rides. You can’t mope around forever.”

“Y’know I don’t do that shit anymore, Benny. Stop being a dick.”

“The only one being a dick here is you, H. Just say yes, and I’ll stop askin.”

With a roll of the eyes, Harry rose from his spot on the worn leather couch to gather his keys and wallet before heading to put on some shoes. Less than pleased, he followed Benny out the door for their twenty-minute drive. Bennet had been trying to convince Harry to join him and their group out to the local fun fair, but Harry was stubborn. He didn’t want to go, didn’t want to be around other people and definitely not at a place that reminded him of his past mistakes. He eventually gave in, only wanting his friend to shut up and the night to be over. And maybe he wouldn’t mind a churro and slurpee.

7:47 pm

“All right, what’s our game plan?” Benny clapped his hands. Rubbing them together, he was way more excited than Harry thought he should’ve been upon arriving to the fair and meeting the others. It was quite a beautiful evening; seventy-some degrees with a breeze coming in from the lake. The sun was still high but would go down in the next hour or so. Laughter, music, and the squeak of rides filled Harry’s headspace and he wondered if he might actually be able to enjoy himself or at least use the pleasurable environment to lift his mood.

As promised, Dax brought his drawstring with small baggies that Harry had no interest in accepting. Jace and Brit showed up hand-in-hand, Tyson trailing behind already a bit red-eyed and too smiley. Harry loved his friends, adored them really even if they were all slight druggies who partied too much. They were good company and were the only ones who stayed after Harry’s bad breakup. His ex didn’t take a liking to them, she had thought they were bad influences that were going to take his mind off his music and ambitions. Harry hadn’t thought so and this led to more fights than he could count. Memories of past fights were interrupted by a happy Tyson.

“Hazzy bear! What is up, my guy?” Ty walked up to Harry with his arms outstretched and a goofy grin plastered on his face. He was laughing at nothing and upon pulling him into a tight hug, Harry scrunched his nose at the smell of whiskey encasing the slightly shorter man.

Harry spoke with a mixture of disgust and understanding, browns furrowed. “Tyson, you’re high as shit mate.”

“Hell yeah!” Ty bellowed out joyously, making Harry flinch and his nose turn up. He took a step back. “How much did you drink before coming here?”

“Oh c’mon, H! Don’t start with your newfound sobriety shit. I’m here for a good time, don’t ruin it!” Though his words came out seriously, Ty ended his scolding with a childish giggle. “How long you been sober for anyways, Haz?” Harry didn’t want to talk about this now. It seemed too heavy a conversation for a ‘fun’ night out. Then again, he didn’t want to draw attention to himself should Ty begin pressing for an answer.

“Three years.” His face was firm, his voice even more so, indicating the end of the conversation. His friend didn’t catch on.

“Ah, y’right, y’right. And what, no Brayley tonight?” As Tyson started to smirk, Harry grew tense and eyes widened at the sound of her name. ‘Why bring her up,’ Harry thought, ‘There’s no reason, no fucking reason.’

“What the fuck, Ty? Stop, you know that shit’s touchy.” Jace smacked Tyson on his right temple, as Benny scolded him.

“Oh, fuck off, mate. I was just messin.” Harry shook his head, eyes downcast and chest tighter than a minute ago. Though the sun was shining and weather still nice, Harry felt his body turn cold with remorse and then flush not a minute later with embarrassment.

He hated the reminder of her. Hated the constant nag of guilt that still hasn’t subsided, and as he was given a round of sympathetic glances, he felt he was going to be sick. ‘I don’t need sympathy. Don’t deserve it.’

Suddenly, there was an awkward tension amongst the small group. They all knew what happened between Harry and Brayley, how he treated her and how she left him. Harry was a wreck after but before his sadness was anger. He was pissed that she had left him, that she wasted two years of his life, and even more pissed at the idea that she had gotten with him for the money and fame. Of course, though, that wasn’t true.

When his year of anger vanished, he was hit with regret and guilt. That’s when he started his therapy for anger and rehab for alcohol. The years seem to drag day by day, yet they’ve passed so quickly. Dr. Tallon said Harry’s been getting better, giving him weekly exercises and tasks to get him through any temper fits and a prescription for the anxiety and grief that is also improving.

Harry liked Tallon, though often felt he was too therapeutic at times, way too sympathetic and kind. Harry didn’t need sympathy. He needed answers to why he did what he did, for someone to explain to him why he felt so fucked-up and broken when years ago he felt lively and powerful. Maybe soon he’ll figure it all out.

Harry was brought out of his thoughts once more as he heard Tyson slightly slur Brayley’s name again. As he spoke, Harry stalked toward Ty with a scowl on his face and fists balled at his sides. “Fuck, Tyson! Would you shut the hell up about her, already? I don’t want to hear her name come out of your mouth again or I swear-”

“Shut the fuck up, Harry.” Ty interrupted with a less than amused tone. “I only said her name because she’s here.”

Harry felt his chest cave in and for a second he couldn’t breathe. ‘Here? Right now?’

“What?” He meant for his question to come out more authoritative, but it ended up sounding quite pathetic when his voice cracked. Tyson didn’t answer. Instead, Harry felt a hand on his shoulder to turn him slightly right.

His face softened and hands carefully reopened. If anyone were to see him now, they would think he had just witnessed something magical. Maybe a love-at first sight situation or the setting of the sun on a beach with waves lightly crashing and weather just absolutely perfect. But the truth could be seen in his eyes; they were pained, so sad and shocked and confused but also happy in a way that he got to witness her beauty once more.

And there she was, wearing small jean shorts and a bleach-spotted black t-shirt that seemed to be torn from the bottom to make a crop-top depicting some sort of band that was too hard to make out from the distance. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he saw her wearing such revealing clothing. The problem with this thought was the outfit wasn’t that much revealing at all but being with Harry meant wearing clothes he deemed appropriate. The old Harry, of course, for now he understands how controlling a nature he had with Bray.

She looked amazing. She was a bit tanner than he remembered and her hair a longer length but still a wavy brown that made her look incredible. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from her small frame. Seeing her for the first time in so many years seemed almost mocking, as if the universe wanted to toy with him, punish him. Brayley was laughing, smiling up at this man next to her who wore a smile just as big.

-----------

11:21 pm

Harry was brought out his head when his phone buzzed from inside his jean pocket. Pulling it out, he saw a text from Tyson. ‘I’m sorry Haz. Didn’t mean to ruin our time or make you uncomfortable. Call me tomorrow? Maybe we can go to lunch when I’m not high as fuck. Love you H.’

Feeling as though he’s sighed a thousand times since he left for the fair, Harry let one escape his lips before he downed the rest of the juice in the glass. He stood to place the cup in the sink then headed for his bedroom. Harry didn’t bother taking off his clothes nor do his usual routine, he was too tired, felt his heart was still too heavy in his chest.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to allow his brain to shut down. He wanted sleep, prayed for it and for the day to be forgotten so he could move on. But as the minutes dragged into hours, Harry huffed and turned to face the ceiling. Memories of his ex at the fair began playing through his mudded mind once again, but this time, with every glimpse of her and that man she was oh so happy with that evening, came a flashback to when Harry called Brayley his.

------

8 pm

The two were in line at a cotton candy stand. Harry watched as the tall, also tanned man handed over a few bills to pay for the purple and blue swirled candy floss. He saw Brayley snap her head to the man’s face and he realized she too had her hand up with some cash, ready to pay. Harry felt his heart squeeze painfully at the sight; she was surprised at this man’s kind gesture.

November 15, 2016

Throughout their relationship, Harry had asked Brayley to pay for their meals only a few times. Brayley didn’t mind and often found herself asking to pay because she felt so lucky to have Harry in her life. She wanted to treat Harry to nice meals and hoped that those small gestures reminded him of her love.

The last time he made her pay came about unexpectedly, though, and further into their dating. Brayley thought they were having a really nice night out. Harry had finished writing for the album, had finished recording and his record was in the mastering process. Harry wanted to celebrate and Brayley hadn’t seen him so happy to go out for dinner since their very first date. When the bill came and Harry looked across the table to his girl with expecting eyes, Brayley knew the night was going to take a turn.

“I pay more than half the rent. I pay for all your car problems. I paid for your books this semester too! And what, you can’t get this one fucking food bill?” After going back and forth for several minutes, Harry tried his best to keep his voice hushed. He spoke in the most threatening tone, face hard and hands beginning to ball under the table. Brayley was surprised at his sudden anger but not as much as she wished she should have been. She was too used to his foul mood that never went away; she just didn’t think he’d bring up his paying for her as a way to make her feel guilty.

“I didn’t ask you to pay for my books.” Brayley felt defeated, utterly helpless and completely embarrassed in that moment. “You surprised me with it, and I never asked you to pay for my car maintenance either, you said you would so I could focus on my loans. And I pay you back for my share that I don’t pay outright for the apartment.” Tears started forming in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over. “Please don’t make it sound like I’m using you for money or something because we both know that isn’t true.” Throughout her pleading, her voice was soft and never once raised. She always hated that about herself; how she was never able to fight back when Harry belittled her and made her feel weak.

“Well sorry I’m just trying to be a good boyfriend, hm? Maybe you should try being a decent girlfriend sometime.” So, Brayley paid for the meal, hesitantly of course. After paying off two thousand dollars’ worth of some student loans, she was unsure if she would be able to afford their expensive Italian meals. She’d quietly asked Harry once more when she saw their waiter approaching if he could just pay for this one night, but as the young man reached the table, Harry only stared at her. She knew she was going to hear it when they got home, knew she was in for a loud and lonely night, yet again.

A few days after that date, Harry walked through the door with his hands full of Chinese take-out, ready to surprise his girl after a bit of guilt crept its way into his chest. Upon shutting the door and turning towards their bedroom, he heard Brayley crying in the hall bathroom. He pressed his ear to the door to better understand her through violent hiccups. She was confessing over the phone, to her mother he later found out, that she was late on a loan payment because she didn’t have the money right then and was now facing a hefty fee that she knew she couldn’t pay. She never brought that up to Harry and Harry never helped her out.

---------

8:32 pm

Brayley and the mystery man had moved to stand in line for the ferris wheel. Its slow blinking lights and very faint stereotypical clown music used to be enough to make Harry lose his ever-loving mind, but as he witnessed such a gorgeous woman be helped inside a blue-scraped car, Harry couldn’t help but feel like absolute shit. That should have been him on that ride. It should have been him she was smiling at as the wheel turned to lift them high into the sunset.

June 15, 2015

“Hey, H, could we go on the ferris wheel?” Brayley had tugged on Harry’s jacket sleeve, asking to go on her favorite ride at the fun fair. She had a soft spot for it as that was the ride her father always took her on as a child. Now she wanted to experience it with the new man in her life, her boyfriend of two years. Harry was apprehensive about even going out that night but Brayley mentioned that he promised she could pick their entertainment for the weekend.

“Don’t wanna.” Harry muttered, his mood the same as it was the moment he agreed on steeping out for the evening. He was less than pleased to go to a damned fair; he hated the noise, the children, everyone in bathing suits as they come off the beach and right onto the fair rides. He hated the fun fair, always had. Brayley was determined to get Harry on the ride. She thought he would love it, think it was somewhat dreamlike, but she was dead wrong.

“C’mon, it’ll be super cool! We’ll be able to see the whole fair and out into the lake, too. It’ll be really pretty, c’mo-”

“I said I don’t want to go on that fucking thing. Besides, we don’t have enough tickets.” As he spoke, Harry kept his eye on a football match he had pulled up on his phone that his friend Benny sent him. He took a seat on a nearby bench making Brayley talk as she followed.

“Yeah we do! S’only like four a person, I think. I can cover for both of us.” At this point, Brayley was begging for her boyfriend to do something with her, something she enjoyed for once.

As he tried listening to what she was telling him, Harry missed the main point of the video, getting frustrated at his girlfriend’s voice. “I don’t want to! Why can’t you just accept that?” He barked at Bray, resulting in her frame deflating and face flushing from his scolding.

But just like every day, her voice was the softest she could make it. “Because I wanted to do something fun with you.”

“I brought you to this damn fair, didn’t I? What, you’re not having fun?” Harry set his phone on his lap, putting all his attention on the girl in front of him. He knew that if he focused on her she would get slightly uncomfortable at the confrontation-like position of them and stop asking.

Brayley knew at this point he wasn’t going to change his mind. But, maybe guilt-tripping him a little would get him to soften up. “We haven’t really done anything except eat and watch people play games...”

Then again, he’s never been soft with her. “You know what? Go on the stupid thing your damn self. I’ll wait here until you’re done.”

That’s how Brayley ended up in the single rider’s line, waiting her turn to be ushered into a tiny swaying cat. She wanted to be excited but part of her was embarrassed to be standing where she was as she witnessed dozens of smiley couples get into their own little car. She was brought out of her sadness when the worker opened her side of the gate to let her into a shining red one with a young man already inside. Confused, she stepped up and in, taking a seat next to the other single rider as he latched the safety bar across their laps.

“Hi, I’m Chris.” His voice was kind, soothing and distracting as he stuck his hand over to shake hers.

“Brayley, nice to meet you.” She offered a kind smile.

Chris returned the gesture. “You as well. So, nobody to ride with, huh?

“Yeah, no. Unfortunately, not. I didn’t see you in the single line?” Maybe small talk will make this experience way less awkward.

“Yeah, my boyfriend was with me, but he chickened out at the very last second. Had to be let out but he said he’d get us some corndogs while I took a quick round.” Chris was nice, super nice. He seemed really sweet as well and as the two slowly moved then stopped every so often to let on new riders, she found herself becoming comfortable next this stranger. She had completely forgotten about her small tuff with her own boyfriend just across the way from her, but she didn’t care. She wanted a minute to herself to be in the company of someone who didn’t have a scowl on their face every second of the day.

When the ride ended and the two strangers said their goodbyes, Brayley made her way over to Harry. It should be noted that he had witness the entire exchange between the two just moments ago and was not very thrilled at the idea of his girl talking to another man.

That night, Harry broke three plates and five glass cups after accusing Brayley of finding her ferris wheel partner on purpose to make him jealous. She fell asleep in the guest room; too upset to sleep next to her boyfriend’s hard, whiskey-filled body, and too afraid to confront him the next morning.

---------

9:47 pm

Harry unapologetically had watched his ex and her new man walk to the opening gate of the beach. Benny was trying to get his attention but as he pressed Harry to stand from the food truck-provided bench, he was met with a deep huff and child-like cross of the arms. A real pouter if he’d ever seen one. The two lovebirds seemed to float over the sand with hands interlocked. Slowly, she placed her opposite atop the man’s forearm. Resting it there gently, she glanced up as if to see if he was angry at the action, to see if he would pull away and scold her for touching him. But he didn’t. Instead he leaned down and placed a delicate kiss right above her brows and then another on the top of her head when she blushed furiously and looked towards the ground, biting her lip to tame the smile stretching across her now reddened face. It made Harry sick. He longed for a chance to do that with her; hold her hand and lie on the beach to watch the stars shine above.

October 3, 2016

“Stop.” Brayley laugh at Harry’s deep tone, thought it was a playful demand. “Said stop, Brayley.” Impatient. Again, she tried slipping her hand into Harry’s to thread her thin fingers through his thick, ring-covered ones. He wasn’t best pleased at the final attempt. “Brayley! What the fuck, I said stop!”

Harry had fully turned toward his girl with arms down by his sides and fists balled. He took a threatening step forward, warning her that should she try again he would flip immediately. Brayley backed down, like a dog submitting to another to show they understand the others dominance. “Sorry...I thought you were just messing around...”

Harry wanted to scoff at such a pathetic reply. Wanted to laugh in her face for trying to ease his anger but instead he surrendered to the fire burning hot in his chest. “You always think I’m pissing around when I’m not. You joke too fucking much and it’s annoying as hell.” With one last glare, he turned to continue down the wooden path that lead to a bench-filled side of the beach. They were to have a picnic and watch the sunset. Brayley already felt too uncomfortable to continue the night. “Sorry.” She whispered, though Harry was already several yards away.

A little while later, when the sandwiches were devoured and lips stained red with wine, Brayley looked over to her boyfriend of two years. In her slight haze of a mind, she forgot about his flaws, how he treated her like trash and did almost everything but make her feel loved and secure. She saw him for his outward beauty. How it augmented when the sun was low enough to cast such a magnificent golden glow upon his tanned skin and made Harry close his eyes ever so softly to bask in its brilliance.

Without much thought to anything at all, Brayley leaned over the picnic basket, closed her eyes, and pressed her cold lips to Harry’s warm ones. His eyes flew open at the sudden pressure and hands jutted to pull her away. “Brayley, are you fucking kidding me?” He seethed.

Out of breath and slightly confused on what had just happened, Bray furrowed her brows and returned to her original place on the blanket. She thought for a minute then tried her hand at reasoning. “There’s not many people around...I just wanted to give you a kiss...”

Harry was more than fed up with her excuses. “Doesn’t matter! I don’t like PDA, you know that. So why do keep trying to kiss me and hold my hand? I hate it when you do that shit in public. I told you to just fucking stop!” Properly shouting at this point, the pair caught the attention of passerby who wore sympathetic smiles, that is if they dared to look over.

“M’sorry. Won’t do it again.” Another whisper. She was too embarrassed to look over.

Hours pass by and the pair remained on the blue checkered blanket, but now Harry had laid down with his feet buried in the still hot sand and sweater-clad arm resting over his eyes. Brayley felt fine at this point, not as loopy as she had before; Harry’s scolding sobered her quickly. But as she watched the waves crash over and over again, she felt the breeze become more intense with the passing minutes. She took a chance at asking Harry for a bit of help.

“H?” She tried. “Hey, Harry?”

“What?” A grumble, could’ve been worse.

“Would it be all right if I wore your jacket...just for a little bit? I’m getting kind of cold.” To get her point across, Brayley let out a shiver and began rubbing her hands together. Harry was having none of that, his nerves were shot way too early in the day and now he was completely done.

“Oh, you’re getting cold, huh? Didn’t I say this was gonna happen? We come to the beach at night and you think it’s gonna be like ninety degrees or some shit. I told you to bring a jacket, I told you several times, so what, now I have to be cold just because you decided to be stupid and not listen to me?”

She was too tired to argue. Tired of the way he always spoke to her and tired of the fighting. She knew if she had responded, Harry would’ve gone off and their late-night picnic on the beach would be properly ruined. So, she brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around herself before laying her right cheek against her freezing skin. Looking out into the ocean, she sent a prayer that Harry’s attitude would lighten up as quickly as the sun had set. Two hours later, she was properly shivering. Harry stood to pack up the basket and empty bottle of wine, not before commenting that her teeth chattering was the most annoying sound he’s ever heard.

---------

2:02 am

Harry hadn’t had a proper cry in months but after doing so he felt the smallest bit better. This was what he needed; he needed to see her one more time, had to remember all that he did in order to work through that shit that was kept mudded up in his conscious for so long. He needed to cry it out. If he was ever going to get better, be better, Harry knew it was time to put Brayley Wright behind him. Not completely forget about her because being with her taught him so much, the understanding just came too late.

Chest moving softly and slight hiccups escaping passed his lips, Harry began talking to himself. He tried to tell his mind that he was okay, that everything was going to work out no matter what, he couldn’t control fate but he could control how he lives his days from now on. As he reasoned with himself, Harry began nodding at the silent words he was thinking. He was feeling himself drift off, finally, but before sleep completely took over, Harry whispered one last line to the dark apartment bedroom: “She’s moved on. It’s time you do the same.”

#harrystyles #harry #styles #harrystylesimagines #harry styles one shot #harrystylespreferences #angst!harry #boyfriend!harry

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dead-inside-mcgee · 4 years

Text

Beyond that Door Chapter 4

A ladder

Yes I do write stuffs

Summary: On one hand, free clothing sounded great. On the other hand, Chase’s growing romantic feelings did not muffle his paranoia at all. On the third hand, this sounded kind of like charity, and Chase didn’t need or want any of that, nor did he really feel like he deserved it. And on the fourth hand, which at this point there are far too many hands, if this man could just offer to do something like that, without a hint of anxiety, then that probably meant he was fairly financially stable. And financial stability was on Chase’s top ten for most attractive traits.

Warnings: implied sexual content, mentions of murder

Taglist: @rabbitsartcorner @caori-azarath @murder-schmurder

Chase blinked his eyes open, trying to remember where he was. He was watching a movie, the parents were looking over old pictures and discovered that their daughter's ghost was actually in some of the pictures, other than the ones the son photoshopped her in.

Chase smiled to himself. He’d have to watch that movie again when he wasn’t on a not-date with a criminal. What happened after that?

The credits rolled. He was about to make some excuse to leave. Anti was talking about something. He started pouring a glass of wine....

The bathroom door opened, flooding the room with light and steam as Anti stepped out in just a towel.

”Oh!” he said with a bright smile. “I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up. I suppose I can’t blame you considering the work out you gave me.” He chuckles lightheartedly.

Chase blushed, suddenly aware of the fact that he didn’t have a shirt on. Last night came flashing back to him in a series of images, like someone made a shitty PowerPoint presentation about it. He covers his face in the blanket in embarrassment, earning another light chuckle from Anti.

Chase couldn’t help but peak out while Anti was dressing. Despite all the paranoia and suspension he had surrounding the man, he did find him quite attractive. And if last night was anything to go off of, the feeling was mutual.

Maybe Anti wasn’t the weird supervillain in Chase’s mind. Maybe the strange man he saw at the building was someone else, he only really got a glimpse...

Chase’s wandering thoughts of possible romance were torn from him by the malicious hands of capitalism.

“Oh fuck I’m late for work!”

“Actually-” Anti started, grabbing Chase’s arm before he could bolt out the door in just his slipping pants “-a pipe burst, flooding a large part of the first few floors in sewage. Work is closed for a few days for repairs.” He led him over to his laptop, showing him the email explaining that in forty times the word count.

Chase sighed in relief. “Oh, thank god.”

“So. Since we have a couple of days free, how would you like to go shopping with me? I will pay for everything, and not to be rude, but you really need more clothing. I’ve noticed you’ve worn the same grey shirt ten times in a row.”

“Actually, I bought a pack of twelve grey shirts.” He said, putting grey shirt number eleven back on. “It was on sale.”

“I honestly feel like that makes it worse.”

On one hand, free clothing sounded great. On the other hand, Chase’s growing romantic feelings did not muffle his paranoia at all. On the third hand, this sounded kind of like charity, and Chase didn’t need or want any of that, nor did he really feel like he deserved it. And on the fourth hand, which at this point there are far too many hands, if this man could just offer to do something like that, without a hint of anxiety, then that probably meant he was fairly financially stable. And financial stability was on Chase’s top ten for most attractive traits.

He whimpered, talking a step back. It felt like he was between a rock and a hard place, and Chase’s claustrophobia made him want to panic. And then a fifth hand popped up to ask a question. What about Marvin?

In the pure anxiety of last night and the confusing morning, Marvin had completely slipped his mind. The poor witch was probably worried sick.

“I’m sorry!” He made his way for the front door. “I promised a friend I would hang out with them last night and they’re probably worried sick that I never showed up.” He didn’t wait for a response from Anti, simply running out.

Panic set in. He should turn around. No, keep running. He didn’t think he could even face Marvin in this state.

He ran into his apartment, not even wondering why his front door was unlocked.

***

Under every town there are tunnels. Whether they are made by animals like worms, moles, or crawfish. Or they’re made by time, like undiscovered caves. Or they’re made by secret organizations that use them to get around fast and to watch our every move. There are tunnels.

Marvin discovered his own set of tunnels when he first came to this town, and later sealed off a certain part of it later to act as his base.

He used to enjoy wandering through the tunnels, drawing graffiti on the walls, and listening in to private conversations. He felt free in the tunnels. But tonight the tunnels felt suffocating.

“Where are we going?” Henrik asked timidly. He stumbled every few steps.

“If they’ve captured Chase, then they probably know we’re looking into this conspiracy, which means my home isn’t safe.��

“That does not quite answer my question.”

Marvin didn’t have a good answer.

After an hour of walking and quietly swearing from Henrik, Marvin stopped and squeezed him through a small space that opened up into a large, musty room. It looked like a church. There were rows of pews, and the walls were lined with stained glass, which was odd because behind the stained glass windows was layers upon layers of dirt and rock. Like someone built a church in a giant pit, buried it, and forgot about it.

Neither of them could quite tell what the windows were depicting, and there were no recognizable religious symbols.

“This place feels less safe.” Henrik squeaked.

“Don’t worry. I’ve never seen or heard anyone here. I’m not sure what this place is, but it’s abandoned.” Marvin laid down on a pew and curled up.

“How long do you plan on staying here?”

“A week at least. If they check my home, that might see I’m not there and it’ll be safe to return.”

There were holes in that plan, but Henrik wasn’t in the right headspace to nitpick it. He did not like it here. He really didn’t like it here. This place felt familiar, and that scared him more than anything.

Exhaustion hit him hard. He curled up on the ground, which was only slightly more uncomfortable than the pews, and slept.

He had a dream. No not a dream. He remembered something.

***

It was Tuesday. He remembered that fact cearly. Tuesday the sixteenth, in September. Yesterday was his birthday. He was twenty-four now.

He was going shopping. He bought a new lab coat for work. He was a doctor, both of medical and of science. He also still struggled with English despite living in America for several years by now.

He meets a man with bright green hair and a smile that felt like the sun on earth. He introduces himself as Sèan, but tells him he goes by Jack.

“How do you get Jack from Sèan?” he remembers asking.

“You don’t!” Jack said, patting him on the back.

Then it was evening, they were snuggled up on Jack’s couch, both wasted.

“I wanna be someone someday!” Jack said loudly. “I want to be the person whose face appears on a billboard, and people can point at my face and say, “‘Hey, I know that guy!’”

“You could be a model. You’ve got the face for it.”

“There’s no honor in being a model, though. I want to save people, not kill their self esteem.”

“A cop then.”

“No one likes cops, Henrik.” Jack said firmly, sounding sober for a moment.

“True…” He yawned, starting to feel tired.

“I want to be something bigger than that. Like a superhero. Maybe I could get into witchcraft.”

“You know witchcraft is illegal right?”

“Being a vigilante is illegal too, and people love vigilantes. Hey, maybe if I’m big enough and loud enough, I can get rid of the ban on witchcraft!”

Henrik giggled, nuzzling his hand. “I believe in you.”

Jack nodded happily. Suddenly he jolted upright and almost knocked Henrik onto the floor. “Hey! Want to see something cool!”

Jack led him to a manhole cover that had a thick numerical padlock on it. Jack put in the code 1010 and it popped off.

“Not a very secure code.” Henrik commented as Jack dragged him into the sewer.

“It’s so dumb that no one would guess it.”

“It smells like shit down here.” Henrik groaned.

“Yeah, that’d be the shit.”

Jack led him to an area where part of the wall seemed to be slightly broken.

“Look through the crack in the wall.”

Henik did so and he could faintly see a ladder going down.

Jack pulled on the wall slightly, making enough space for someone to squeeze in if they really tried. “I’ve never been brave enough to go see where it leads.”

Henrik was amazed. This was super cool. It may have been the alcohol clouding his judgement, but he squeezed past the wall and looked down. “Want to find out?”

Climbing a ladder drunk is not a smart thing to do, especially if you had no idea where said ladder leads.

After a few minutes of climbing, somehow Henrik and Jack made it to the ground without dying. The ladder led to a pair of large doors that looked like the entrance to a church.

The two glanced at each other before working together to push open the doors. Inside was eerily like a church.

“I don’t like it here.” Jack said, but continued walking into the church anyway.

Henrik stepped in and a wave of nausea washed over him. He fell forward, blacking out. That was the last thing Henrik remembered, but the dream continued.

Jack spun around, running to go check on him, but some invisible wall seemed to block him from getting any closer.

A voice cackled. It was raspy and sounded broken almost. A man appeared. He looked exactly like Jack but wrong. Like someone tried to draw him from memory. There was also a giant cut on this person’s neck.

Jack stumbled back and leaned on the invisible wall. “Don't come any closer!”

“I won’t, I won’t.” The demon, Jack decided it was a demon, said calmly. “I want to help you friend.”

“Help me!? What could you possibly do to help me?”

“You want to be a hero, am I correct? I seem to remember that.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Well who doesn’t want to be a hero!? I can help you, for a small price.”

“What price?”

“It’s only something small. I wish the feast on the blood of the wicked. That shouldn’t be much trouble. What’s the lives of millions of good people compared to a few assholes?”

Jack thought it over. “How much blood?”

“A body every two weeks. If you choose the right people, no one will miss them anyway.”

The worst part is that, that sounded like an amazing deal. He glanced back at Henrik. There was a little pool of blood by his face from where he hit his head on the floor.

“Is there any other catch to this thing you’re offering me?”

“Yes.” The demon waved his hand up and Henrik stood, except it wasn’t Henrik exactly. Something about his eyes was off.

“Every superhero needs a villain to defeat, and your boyfriend here will do the trick nicely.”

Jack grimaced, backing away from “Henrik.”

“That doesn’t even have to be a catch. I can erase any memories and feelings you have connected to him. Just shake my hand.” He held a hand out with a big, toothy smile.

Jack glanced at the demon, and then at Henrik, and he decided to take his hand. There was a bright flash of light and Henrik woke up.

He was about to get up to tell Marvin what he had remembered, but he found himself and Marvin tied up.

***

Chase fidgeted with part of his robotic arm. It made a nice clicking noise when he twisted one of the fingers in the right way.

The mask was starting to wear off, he had enough of the potion left to last him a while, but it still made him kind of sad.

There was a knock at the door. Chase groaned and hid under the blanket. It was probably Mrs. Wood, asking if Chase had seen her missing cat.

The knocking continued for a few more minutes and then Chase heard a soft creak like someone opened his front door. His stomach dropped.

He grabbed a large flashlight, prepared to whack someone. He slowly walked out of his room only to see Anti in his living room.

Anti held up his hands. “Hey. You left your keys at my place.” He dropped the keys on the counter. “I know I shouldn’t have busted in, but I assumed you weren’t here.”

Chase sighed, putting the flashlight down. Anything Chase wanted to say got caught in his throat. He sat down and covered his face. “Just go away please.”

“I also wanted to say I’m sorry. I came on too strongly and I should’ve checked to see if I was crossing any boundaries. I just want this to work.”

Anti’s heart shattered. He stepped out into the hallway and got a phone call.

“What is it?” He growled.

“Fresh blood is here.” Jackie said on the other end.

#jacksepticeye #chase brody #dr schneeplestein #henrik von schneeplestein #marvin the magnificent #jameson jackson #antisepticeye #jackie boyman #jackieboy man #jackie boy man #jackieboyman #my fic #beyond that door

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fillorian-pocketwatch · 4 years

Text

The Makings and Fate of Quentin Coldwater: What Were the Writers Thinking?

Trigger warnings: Quentin Coldwater, seasons 4 and (briefly) 5, mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation, outdated ideas about the purity of women.

General warnings: Spoilers for the show and the books.

Buckle up, darlings, and my apologies in advance: this is a rough ride, and I don’t recommend reading it if you aren’t in the right headspace for it right now.

I hope that those who do read it might drop some LGBTQIA+ positive book/tv recommendations in the comments as a pick-me-up for others. I will add some myself if I can think of some good ones.

So as it turns out, I ran into something entirely by accident: the inspiration behind the character of Quentin Coldwater.

I knew that Eliot and his "will-they-or-won't-they" dynamic with Quentin in the Magicians books were both borrowed from Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited (Grossman has said so himself)--

but I didn't realize there was an actual preexisting character Grossman borrowed from for Q:

Quentin Compson, from The Sound and the Fury.

This explains so much for me. So much.

I ran across information about the character the other day while doing something completely unrelated (looking up some other book if I recall correctly), and when I saw the similarity of the two names and then learned about the first Quentin’s fate, I thought, could this be LG’s inspiration?

Further research revealed that yes, Lev has said as much in articles. And even if he hadn’t, the fact that he has written extensively *about* TSatF online makes it a relatively easy conclusion to draw.

While the two Quentins aren't actually much alike (at least on the surface; I haven't read TSatF yet, just in-depth summaries/analyses of it)--other than the fact that they are both mentally ill over-achiever college students, are preoccupied with the idea of another world (the world as they each wish it was), and constantly associated with symbolic clocks and watches--Quentin Compson's fate explains everything for me in terms of how to understand Quentin Coldwater's series-four fate.

Quentin Compson ultimately kills himself in the famous classic novel; he does so by drowning after jumping off the Anderson Memorial Bridge in Boston, Massachusetts. Today there is a plaque there to commemorate the character:

In the Faulkner novel, Quentin associates the smell of honeysuckle with his obsessions over his sister’s purity--an ideal he comes to feel let down by after she loses her virginity and then seems to lose herself further in the company of men he feels are unsuitable.

I can’t help but make a parallel with the “drowned garden” of season 4, episode 12.

Quentin makes the following speech in the drowned garden, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s the closest thing we get to a suicide note:

You know the worst part of getting exactly what you want? When it's not good enough. Then what do you do? If this can't make me happy, then what would? Fillory was supposed to mean something. I was supposed to mean something here. But it's all... it's just... it's random. It's so random that the only way to save my friends is to yell at a fucking plant! Honestly, fuck Fillory for being so disappointing. You know what, maybe I was better off just believing that it was fiction. The idea of Fillory is what saved my life! [laughs.] This promise... that... people like me... [weeping] People like me... Can somehow... Find an escape. There has gotta be some power in that. Shouldn't loving the idea of Fillory be enough?

But the idea of Fillory is not enough, in the end, because the idea of happiness is also not enough. And by the end of his time on the show, that’s all Quentin has: the trappings of happiness (or at least the ones available to him, the ones he thinks might get him there), without the actual emotion.

Maybe he realizes, in the drowned garden, that he is at the end of his rope. Maybe that is where he decides to give up.

That, in my opinion, is why he begins to seem so shut down: it isn’t uncommon for people to distance themselves emotionally as a precursor to suicide (hence Jason being accused of “refusing to act” toward the end of S4).

I think it’s also why he doesn’t stop to wait and see how Eliot is after Margo strikes the Monster with the axes: he has given up on the idea that the things he thinks will make him happy actually will, or that happiness is actually attainable for him in the first place.

Quentin Coldwater drowns not in the fading of honeysuckle; for him it’s peaches and plums. In any case, he is definitely in over his head, and the water that spills out of the mirrors after his death feels like an homage to that literal drowning of his predecessor.

The TM writers found ways, as the show progressed, to tie the books back in to the show; the way they did it, however, was often roundabout to say the least. Their takes on how different plot points should occur, or be interpreted from book to screen, were usually close to abstract. They did do it, in many ways, but theirs was far from a faithful adaptation.

It fits, therefore, that they would tie The Sound and the Fury into S4 the way that it appears they did.

It also tells me something about how blame for their decision can be distributed, because either the showrunners:

a.) really did their research re: Compson and put together that this was the character that inspired Lev

or, as is much more likely, they:

b.) discussed it all with Lev himself--or LG was the one to broach the subject to see what sort of take they could spin.

Whatever the lead-in to the decision, I think three things combined to give them the idea for Q’s fate:

1. Quentin Compson;

2. Alice’s description, in the third book, of watching an old god kill herself to make way for a new world (which was when Umber and Ember emerged);

3. The following lines from The Magician’s Land: “The truly sad thing was that Ember actually wanted to do it. Quentin saw that too: He had come here intending to drown Himself, the way the god before Him had, but He couldn’t quite manage it. He was brave enough to want to, but not brave enough to do it. He was trying to find the courage, longing for the courage to come to Him, but it wouldn’t, and while He waited for it, ashamed and alone and terrified, the whole cosmos was coming crashing down around Him.

Quentin wondered if he would have been brave enough. He would never know. But if Ember couldn’t sacrifice himself, Quentin would have to do it for Him.”

So, it appears, the group of writers (LG included, however actively) apparently decided to take Quentin’s thought from book three and put him in exactly that position: make the choice, or fail to make the choice.

But the need for him to make that choice was never horribly convincing. They were very mistaken if they thought it was. And no matter what, it was ultimately a horrible, damaging idea. It hurt the audience, and it killed the show. The only sacrifice that was made was made in the name of ego and “clever writing” that the writers thought was edgy and risky in some desirable way.

[Quote from vulture.com]

It's not so deep.

What they did, ultimately, was borrow from more than one outdated work, and use those as excuses to do the wrong things re: mental illness and LGBTQIA+ representation:

Evelyn Waugh’s characters fail, once again, to live their lives and desires freely and openly (What a waste to rehash the long-denied dynamic from Brideshead Revisited only to deny it again);

Quentin Compson’s legacy of suicide and hopelessness lives on (and this is made all the more offensive when you learn that Compson’s suicide was based largely on ideas of spoiled purity which were solely the burden of women to uphold).

They took what could have been made right and beautiful and instead used their story to perpetuate the same sad old traditions of queerbaiting and Burying the Gays.

Tragedy is not more profound than happiness (just ask Quentin Coldwater). I'd argue that to make something really beautiful, you need to mend what's broken.

The world is a broken place. It's easy to break things here.

The worst thing they did to Q, by far, was to use the beautiful concept of minor mending against him like it was the fuse on a stick of dynamite: the thing he’d spent his whole life seeking--his specific field, his special skill in the actual real world of magic--was what he used to kill himself. He killed himself by *fixing something.* We need no further evidence that Q had given up hope.

What a terrible message, and what a slap in the face to viewers who put their trust in this atrocious writing.

And they did nothing to redeem themselves after the fact, either. If anything, they made it even worse, somehow:

Eliot, by the end of the show, has even less than he started with.

Eliot, apparently, is us: left without Q, stripped of the comfort of a world we thought we knew. Utterly let down by the writers who had the power to make things different.

I hate to end this on such a terrible note. So let me just say that if you were let down by the show, and you miss Q, you’re far from alone! I see you, and I hear you, and I share your pain.

TM got it all wrong. But I have faith that others will get it right.

And no matter what, in the last book, Quentin lives, and has nothing but a whole world of possibility open up before him.

#The Magicians #Meta #Quentin Coldwater #The Sound and the Fury #the magicians season five #the magicians season four #the magicians books #Eliot Waugh #Brideshead Revisited #Evelyn Waugh #William Faulkner #Queliot #mental illness #lgbt representation #queerbaiting

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

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20 with Indruck please? Rating up to you!

20 was “Heat” so I went NSFW. Duck’s design is based on a Giant Pacific Octopus, Indrid’s on a Wrought-Iron Butterfly Fish, but with red in place of the yellow. Merman anatomy based on...nothing even remotely scientific

The kelp forest is a welcome respite from the halls of the palace.

Pity Indrid isn’t in much of a headspace to enjoy it.

He’s in heat. It hit him when he woke up this morning, and he left the palace as soon as he noticed. Which means he’s horny, hungry, and in desperate need of privacy. Privacy he knows he will not get if people in the castle pick up on his state.

A decently thick patch of kelp comes into view, and he shoos away stray sea stars and snappers to have the space to himself. It doesn’t take much coaxing for the slit in his upper tail to reveal itself and open. His cock will need a bit more stimulus to fully emerge, and so he focuses on rubbing the tip of it and frantically working his fingers into the sensitive opening beneath it. If he can just cum a few times, he might be able to clear his head.

His future vision, a bit cloudy from the haze of desire, alerts him that someone is coming.

“C’mon now, I know you’re back there. This area’s off limits.”

He hisses in discomfort as he tries to will his body to calm down and return to an unaroused state. He knows that voice, and it belongs to both the absolutely first and last person he wants to see him like this. Duck Newton, steward of this portion of the forest, whose tentacles he can just spy trawling along the ground.

Duck is one of a chosen few mers whose adolescent tail transformed into a set of eight tentacles, like those of an octopus when he turned eighteen. Only four are suckered, but all are dexterous, making the mers who have them capable warriors (both due to how many weapons they can wield and the fact the limbs can regrow if bitten off). Duck has chosen to use his to more efficiently tend to his beloved forest. This is just one of the many reasons Indrid is fond of him.

“Come on, you ain’t in trouble, but you cant’--oh, hey ‘Drid.” Duck's face appears through the foliage.

“H-hello Duck. Ah, apologies” he keeps several clumps of kelp in front of his lower half, “I, ah, got turned around.”

Duck shrugs with an easy smile, “It happens. If you come with me, sure I can help you find what you need. Oh!” He begins peeling the kelp back, seeming to think Indrid is tangled, “I found a nest of emerald sea dragons the other day. You wanna see ‘em?”

“Perhaps some, some other time. I, I should maybe just see myself home.”

“You okay? You’re lookin kinda ill.” Duck reaches out with his hand, touching Indrid’s cheek.

“I’m fine.” He squeaks.

“‘Drid, you feel real hot. We oughta check your gills, see if they’re green.”

Indrid looks down, tail going limp in surrender, “Look at your tentacles, Duck. They know, even if you do not.”

Duck glances at the limbs, now pulsing red to purple. A signal that he’s sensed the heat pheromones in the water.

“Huh.” Duck’s tongue presses the inside of his cheek, “no wonder you look so stressed. Heats can be a real pain in the ass.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Indrid relaxes when Duck’s tentacles stop trying to clear the foliage he’s using to preserve his modesty.

“You wanna come back to my place? I can make you some breakfast, make sure you don’t get too uncomfortable. My heats always make sleepin’ hard, so I even got some real nice pillows that can help you if you have trouble sleepin durin yours.”

Indrid cocks his head, “Breakfast? That’s...really why you want me to come back with you?” He lets his eyes roam across Duck’s chest, his strong arms and ample belly, the pleasing colors of his tentacles.

“Well, sure. Like I said, I know how rough the next couple of days can be. Happy to help a friend out.”

Indrid licks his lips, “I believe there is another way you can assist me.” He reaches out, drawing a finger along Ducks chest. But the mer rolls backwards, out of reach.

“Hold up, I’m, uh, I’m flattered, but I ain’t sure what you’re anglin’ for is a good idea.”

“Oh, ah, I apologize, I, that was far too forward of me.” He wishes he had the ability to camouflage so he could slink away in shame.

“No, I, uh, it’s just, I don’t want you offerin that to me when it’s your heat makin you do it.”

“It is not. I am quite capable of freely choosing my partners.” Indrid says, more petulant than he means to be.

Duck’s tentacles go an odd, bashful shade of red, “Don’t you have folks back in the palace who you’re interested in? Kinda assumed you could have your pick.”

Indrid sighs, “I could, in a way. But, well, I do not need yet another reminder that my appeal to people in the palace is only in my powers or my status; I learned the hard way the last time that there are many who would court my favor during my heat, but only because they found the pheromones appealing when combined with the possibility I might tell them beneficial futures.“

“Oh, ‘Drid.” Duck says softly, “that ain’t decent.”

“I mean, I always consented to it. I just felt naive in retrospect; I should have known the fact that people give me a wide berth unless they want something would not go away so easily.”

“You ain’t had even one person court you for you?”

“No.”

Duck teases him gently, “That why you were in my forest, hidin out and jerkin it like some fresh-faced young mer afraid his folks are about to walk in?”

“Yes. I, I just did not want anyone to know. Being lonely and needy feels better than being approached by suitors who care for my position but not me.”

Duck scratches the back of his neck, “And, uh, if there was someone who was wild about you and thinks those other mers are dipshits for not seein’ how incredible you are?”

Indrid snorts softly, “You already said no.”

“I said I didn’t wanna do anythin unless I was sure you really wanted to be with me.” Duck comes back to him, “but if you do...fuck, ‘Drid, I been dreamin about this for awhile now.”

“Please?” Indrid bites his lip, hopeful nerves rising.

Duck cups his cheeks, resting their foreheads together, “Hell yeah, darlin. Now, let’s see what we’re dealin with.” The front two tentacles gingerly moves Indrid’s cover aside, and Duck takes in his cock, now swollen, and the open slit with small tendrils trying to draw Duck in “oh, my poor sugar, you been like this since you got here?”

“Mhmmm.” Indrid whines.

“Let’s see if we can take the edge off. Put my hands where you need ‘em.”

Indrid pulls one hand down, sliding it into the slit, and Duck drops the other down around his waist to steady him.

“There we go, fuck, can practically fit my whole hand in, you sure it just started this morning?”

“Yes, though, though I think being near you has perhaps accelerated it.”

“That so? Wonder what happens if I-”

“OH! Ohyes, yesyes.” Indrid trills as Duck works his hand steadily back and forth, thumb catching the tendrils and tugging them just right.

“That’s it, I got you, gonna make you feel so good--uh, what are you doin’?””

“I want more of you, all of you, please” Indrid continues gathering the tentacles he can reach in one hand and pawing at the space where Duck’s cock is hiding, “need it, need you, want you to use me.”

“Nope” Duck tenderly guides his hands to rest around his shoulders, “we’re gonna go steady and sweet this time. You wanna go buckwild later, we can, but right now all I wanna do is watch the fuckin captivatin face while you cum.”

“But, but you are clearly-” Indrid nods at where he can see Duck’s cock trying to emerge.

“I know, but that don’t matter right now. All that matters is makin’ you feel good.” The drawl curls around him and he feels safer than and snugger than a sleeping otter, and he whines in gratitude.

‘You want a kiss?”

“Please”

Duck leans in, planting kisses up and down his cheeks before settling on his lips. Indrid hums, threads his fingers into Duck’s hair in hopes of making the kiss last forever. Then he gasps, moaning gratefully as a (non-suckered, thank goodness) tentacle wraps around his cock. Duck simply chuckles, tightens and twists the tentacle until Indrid is babbling praise into his mouth, hips twitching as pleasure overwhelms his system.

When he cums it’s with a thoroughly undignified groan, Duck kissing him through it.

“Better?” He murmurs, nuzzling Indrid’s cheek.

“Y-yes, at least I can actually get everything, ah, concealed again.”

Duck holds out his hand, “In that case, wanna come back to my place?”

Indrid holds his hand all the way back to the sunken fishing boat Duck calls home (he’d actually dragged the boats occupants to shore to save them, meaning his wreck is pleasantly corpse-free). He admires the new, tiny ships in bottles Duck has floating in a corner as the other mer shuts the door and draws a seaweed curtain over the windows.

“Now….” In the darkened hull, Duck’s tentacles begin rippling a deep purple, “what were you sayin’ earlier? Somethin’ about ‘wantin’ all of me?’” His voice has gone a shade huskier, and Indrid shivers excitedly when he realizes he’s in a remote place with a mer whose body is specifically built for power.

Then Duck smiles, so earnest and affectionate, the way he did the first time Indrid laughed at one of his jokes, and he remembers exactly why he followed him here.

“Yes, I believe I did.” He swims to him, circles him, tail and fingers brushing him teasingly.

“You gonna make me play chase? Kinda thought those days were behind us, given I ain’t a young mer, and neither are you.” Duck crosses his arms, grinning and spinning slowly to track Indrid’s progress.

“I never got to do such things, even with previous mates. It does hold a certain appeal.” He swims higher, brushes his tail along Ducks chest and throat.

Duck considers him for a moment, seems almost detached.

“Nah, don’t feel like chasin you down.”

Two tentacles shoot up, grabbing him and yanking him face to face with Duck and he laughs with delighted surprise.

“Oh dear, it seems you have won the chase.”

Duck snickers, gathers Indrid into his arms, tentacles releasing him, “Seems I have. But my prey don’t seem to mind one bit. Maybe because it knows I got what it needs.” He rolls his hips against Indird, and in a few short moments his cock presses against Indrid’s scales, his own body responding and opening readily.

“You want me to fuck you, or the other way around?”

In answer, Indrid guides Ducks’ cock inside him, and the other mer groans, hugging him tight.

“Fuck you feel good.”

“L-likewise. No, kindly stop holding backAHHhhhhhnnnnyesgoodthankyou.” Indrid scratches along Ducks muscled back as he pounds into him. His cock is made up of overlapping, twisting whirls, and their ridges rub deliciously inside him, catching the underside of his cock on each thrust.

“Yeah? That what you needed your highness?” Duck puts some bite into those last two words and Indrid moans. Duck raises an eyebrow in question, then understands, “You needed some rough-tailed mer to fuck you until you can’t swim, someone who doesn’t give a shit about--oh fuck yeah that feels good--your royal blood, just knows a nice piece of tail when he sees it, just wants to show you exactly how you oughta be treated.”

“Yes! Or, no? Wait, ah, oh goodness” Indrid blushes, “I apologize, ahnnn, I got lost somewhere in the rhetorical questions.”

Duck giggles against his neck, kisses his nose “Don’t worry about answerin’ them, then.”

“But, but I am enjoying you talking like that.”

“Oh yeah?”

Indrid nods, whimpering as the thrusts quicken and Duck tugs him into a bruising, teeth and tongue filled kiss.

“Then I oughta tell you I been thinkin’ about you since I had to prep, fuck, prep the royal garden for that party a few weeks after we met. Thought about layin’ you out in the seagrass, long tail under my fingers, workin you up with my mouth until you begged me to fuck you.”

“That long?”

“Yep” a softer kiss, “kept dreamin about sneakin in through the window and, uh, sullyin the royal bed oh damn, careful, gonna float away from me if you thrashin your tail like that.”

“I cannot help it, I, you feel so good, no one’s ever spoken to me like that before and I love it.”

“Here” Duck curls one tentacle around Indrid’s tail, keeping him in place.

“Oh” Indrid breaths out, eyes widening.

“That’s uh, that’s really okay? It don’t scare you or nothin?” Duck searches his eyes, gaze so loving that Indrid strokes his hair.

“Not at all. In fact, would, ah, would you do it more?”

The grin again, the wolf-eel one, and suddenly his wrists are pinned by his sides, the grip on his tail strengthens, and another tentacle snakes around his middle, trapping him against Duck. The mers hands stay on his shoulders and face, caressing him even as he snaps his hips harshly.

“Ohhhhhhit’slikeyouareeverywhere” Indrid can barely get the words out, hurries them for fear he’ll shortly lose the ability to form coherent thoughts.

“I am. Cause you’re all mine.” He drags out the “all,” running his hands and tentacles forcefully across Indrid’s skin as he does.

Indrid keens, something deep in his heat-brain responding to those words.

“Careful, or they’ll hear you all the way at the palace. Might come and take you away from me.”

“They, they wouldn’t dare, I’d tear them apart AH” He bites down on Duck’s shoulder when another tentacle teases his cock.

“All the same, and as much as I’d like to see their faces when they realized you chose me…” Another tentacle taps his lips politely, and Indrid parts them, lets the appendage slide into his mouth. It feels unlike anything else when it skates along his tongue, Duck watching him diligently for signs of discomfort. His heat makes his body more pliant and receptive than usual, so when it touches the back of his throat he nods. Duck presses past the hint of resistance, and Indrid moans, frantically working his hips in the small thrusts the restraints allow him.

Duck watches him with awe, “Fuck, fuck lookit you, takin’ me every which way, god ‘Drid, your throat feels good sugar, might have to shove half of these down there and half alongside my cock just to see if you can take it, fuck, shit, you wanna be full, you’re gonna be fuckin’ full.” He cums hard, and to Indrid’s shock he feels some spill out even as it pumps into him. The tentacle on his cock strokes mercilessly at the head and as he thrashes in Duck’s hold he spurts into the water between them.

He comes down in a haze, having barely enough energy to whine when Duck pulls out.

“Don’t worry, we can go again soon.” Duck carries him to bed, makes a face when he notices Indrid’s back, “Uh, you, uh, you, well, it’s gonna be real obvious what kinda mer you were with.”

Indrid turns his head, finds many sucker-shaped marks on his back, “I do not mind. It is nice to have some souvenirs.”

“Happy to give you more. But first, we gotta keep your strength up. ” Duck kisses him once before swimming off towards the pantry.

He spends the remainder of the day in the ship, heat waxing and then waning with each bout of sex. He fucks Duck twice, the other mer cooing encouraging words in his ear and flattering his every feature as he does.

Duck fucks him, by his very accurate count, about a hundred million thousand times. Sometimes his tentacles fuck him into a writhing, pleading mess while the mer himself sits and reads with a knowing smirk on his face. Sometimes he uses his mouth, or lets Indrid lavish his cock and slit with his tongue in-between cuddles.On one particular instance, Duck wraps him so tightly in so many of his tentacles that Indrid can’t move save for the odd flutter of the end of his tail. All he can do is moan as Duck fucks him twice in a row, growling in his ear for him to be a good little mate and take it.

Indrid has also never been more cared for during a heat; Duck brings him food, cuddles and kisses him, makes him a nest of books and pillows and tells bad jokes and brainteasers to distract Indrid from the waves of heat that come when he’d really rather just be held than fuck. Tells him over and over how much he cares about him, how handsome he finds him, and Indrid tells him the same.

When Duck asks, still a but bashful, if Indrid would like to stay with him until his heat ends, Indrid agrees immediately. And when Indrid asks if Duck will come back to the palace with him, at least for a few days, after it’s over, Duck says yes in an instant.

And when two royal guards coming looking for the erstwhile prince, given that no one has seen or heard from him in almost a day, they find sound asleep in Duck’s arms. Exactly where he belongs.

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #mermay fills

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