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ennaku-sirri-da · 1 year

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My Best Friend is dead. Her name ...was MARTHA. She resides in the bathroom now, but I'm still trying to make her smile. [ Part 2 ] [ INVESTIGATIONS....START!!!]

( Plaintext: My Best Friend is dead. Her name ...was MARTHA. She resides in the bathroom now, but I'm still trying to make her smile. [ Part 2 ] [ Investigations....start!!!] )

Habit is pretty new around here, but if he can't find a single friend then God help him he is going to make the ghost in the bathroom who may-or-may not-exist-but-hopefully-its-a-may-- his friend. Now if only he had any idea where to start?!?!

Well, she's fading in relevance, but some rumors still stick- that is atleast a place to start with.....

TO THE DRAMA TUNNEL!!!

( Wanna clarify this is NOT actually drama he's going there for though, that's just what the majority of the place harbours. I guess this particular use is like...more of...Information-Hole??)

[ GIF description: Pinkie Pie from MLP FIM uses a attached slide and somehow slides up and out of an underground lair where she prepares for parties with a variety of party items and folders on everyone's likes and dislikes. End GIF description]

That's right. You heard me, bozo. Habit has a secret underground cave under the angel statue at the forefront of his school full of folders on every single person only used for the V.V.V. Important Purposes Vital For Survival. Such as catty gossip that can be used against you later. He hasn't really told Kamal about it truthfully because he'd never let that fly HQKJSJSK

But sometimes when they're talking after being out of their respective schools he TRIES anyway. Getting really close and whispering conspirationally.

'' So I heared his moms gettin' die-vorced...''

( habitspeak translation: So I heard his moms gettin' divorced...)

''HAHA YES AMAZING''

Sorry guys, Kamal is also trying, but just to keep his cool. The times when he does tolerate enough to give some gossiping ground. Still though, brotato, personal space.....😳😖( blushing emoji and closed-eye agitated emoji )

HOWEVER. He simply won't entertain the idea of this fanciful ghost-hunt his friends picked up and the associated taperecorded interviews, derelict dental records(???), old newspapers, photographs, impromptu questioning around the neighbourhood, bake sales for means to obtain said-newspapers, urban legend discussion printouts, breaking n entering into school offices at 3 AM ... Holy DUCKNUGGETS. Chill out big time, saaley. Don't fuck around and find out with what we don't know, yeah? He's mildly superstitious( despite liking to think himself more rational than that) so he's really uncomfortable with Habit mentioning it.

>POV: your just the janitor in the basement to grab your dust pan but Habit is Happening

[ ID: Meme of a guy with a vast number of papers and red tape stuck together on the wall like a stereotypical conspiracy theorist. He is explaining them raptly with wildly serious looking eyes. End ID]

So, um. Habit gets more huffy around him about that But he Keeps Going Anyway. And getting into more trouble with everyone as usual.

Guys, I NEED you to know I'm TOTALLY imagining a musical sequence where Habit's going through his All Saints High school and EVERYONE'S LIKE....

youtube

[ Video Thumbnail ID: A painterly style illustration of the three musicians performing " We Don't Talk About Bruno...But It's Cursed" in the style of the Madrigal family members, but ominously done in glowing greens and bright reds. The title text is in the same colors and has a roughened look. Their eyes all glow green and the man in the middle has rats on him in an imitation of Camilo Madrigal. All of them are posed like they're telling a sinister story, clawing their hands and grinning in an unhinged manner. End ID]

" WE DONT TALK ABOUT MARTHA "

( plaintext: "We don't talk about Martha" )

Of COURSE it would not be like, the exact same bcuz different context. But just the general vibe of someone's real self faded into increasingly contrived stories, the implication that meeting with this person is a portent of bad luck, danger and possibly death itself and an enforced silence on events. And the protagonist wanting to unveil the truth.

Oh and! I particularly took a Catholic school for Habit to go to( it wasn't his choice, Father sent him off ) because of that one line he drops in a PSA " hate the sin love the sinner" I think, which I've most frequently heard around(not personally) as like. An anti LGBT sentiment from Christians. It was jarring to hear in the game, but worked to effect. And also Martha and Habit's story sprung from this one particular song that was sent to me, plus Catholic schools are some of the largest spread in the US, admitting non Catholic students as well. His own family would probably follow a different Russian Orthodox tradition though.

Well, what's happening on the B side?

Martha is quite, quite highly amused.

( Also perhaps holding an little flicker of hope, cuz it's like. People who do not fully believe in her cannot see her no-matter-what,

as she found out when she was newly-awakened and tried to go about school as usual

[ Gif description : An animated sequence from the Katawa Shoujo visual novel where Hanako looks on in confusion while students zip past her impossibly fast, their faces and figures blurring. Only one other person stands without moving. It generally represents the feeling of the world leaving Hanako behind. End ID]

<Yup. Kinda traumatizing. Stuff like this is why she prefers to stay stall-confined self-exiled most of the time.>

and also she has to reveal herself voluntarily. She's not shown herself, but he clearly does believe....)

She's like " Woah. DOLLY : O (open mouth emote)" HSJDJDJ A big, walking, talking one. Which he is. It just particularly endears her because she used to have a hobby of collecting them, finding out about their histories and stuff. When she was alive she eventually stopped talking about it because some people would find it embarrassing. Still carries that shame, but hey, there's no soul around to see right now.

Follows him around sometimes, even. Walking in front, clutching the walls above, at his shoulder.

Judgementally spectating him getting into another fight come-to-blows by virtue of his incredibly short-fuse especially with assholes( Hes uh. Stressed. To say the least.) . Only she likes to pretend he's actually following her by walking in front of him all-proud by vaguely predicting which direction he's taking. Actually he doesn't even see her there, but that just reduces any pesky possible arguements, right? Playing pretend is so much better. Few regrets. Like how he has to usually stitch his wounds up himself 'cause skin-bandages feel gross on the fur and don't do much. She could probably do that for him, and better!!! Without all the shaking and sniffling.

That is of course all a big IF. Habit's skyrocketed to the exact sort of notoriety she has spent so many years averting for herself, in like, record time. In a strange turn of events--- this kind of reputation making it hard for him to keep n' make new friends who don't slip through his paws like wilted petals-- has led him to.....someone who would under more non-time displaced circumstances...would NEVER be his friend. No matter how much she both admires and envies his loudly bold, curious and creative side coming through in times like how he touts around and takes apart the one Mecha Jesus Transformer ( from Kamal) with a whole backstory he's made up with his, apparently one friend, now. Or when he refuses to follow taken-for-granted rules without reason( like she couldn't bring herself to). But now, there's no one around to see......

Still, old habits die hard. Even when you're already dead in the ground. So she hesitates...and hesitates some more. Teetering on the edge of an afterlife-changing desicion.

But once...

It's just a regular bathroom visit. Open the door, check for other people, run inside. Regular running away from everyone, letting perenially red eyes run redder when for all the high-achieving to not make anyone mad still the teachers didn't know what to make of him. Running over chipped molars in the mirror-reflection for far too long, the usual. Nothing out of the ordinary, not the cursing God, not the attempts in the stall to muffle his noise lest passing janitors hear, not the barely contained scream, not in-the-end when it all thankfully stops and he slumps down on the closed seat, exhausted.

And then he says something. New.

"I wish ..someone would miss me if I was gone."

Unfortunately this time Habit can't contain the part-excited and part-terrified scream hoarsely ripping from him when all his researching becomes reality.

[ Gif description: Animated cutscene from the Faith games in its signature usually colored-outline, black fill-in, rotoscoped cutscenes. Amy Martin rises up from the edge of the beds end, hands first and then up to her head covered by long hair. There's a slight glitching distortion. End description]

SHE IS HERE.

( Plaintext: She Is Here.)

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this-doesnt-endd · 2 years

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i have to take my meds in the morning i tried doing it at night and i can never fucking remember to do so like it just wont work

#ive forgotten three days ina a row already like im just gonna take em in the morning #tho i can def say these ones are way better #cause when i was getting off the old ones i felt like shit and in like what 4 days? i was already getting seizures back so lamotrigine ftw #also when i went to me check in the other day she was like how did keppra treat you and i was like god awful #and it made me so nauseous to the point i couldnt eat and apperently thats like not like a side effect they get complaints about often #like at all she never hears people talk about that i guess its mostly irribilaty and i was like i got that a bit and then one time #i just started sobbing i cried for like an hour and half straight and she was like REALLY?#if you can handle keppra damn ur body is a tank #that shit took me out i wouldve had a better time if someone shot me in the shoulder

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eversncenewyork · 2 months

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& more!

#saw T again last night #doomsday is the 20th but we talk abt it every time now ofc #i told him my parting advice is to learn to use the word ‘pretty’ to ever make a woman happy #and so ofc he then called me pretty several times but mostly in a joking sweet way #but then today he texted me like 4 hours after our previous exchange #and said ‘just dropping by to say how pretty i think you are’#and then ‘going to [band] practice! catch you later’#and i would love to say i felt normally about it #but i sat right down on the floor to cry #and i hurt my butt bone when i got down there so then i laid face down on the hardwood #and cried and reabsorbed it like spongebob #and had a half eaten peanut butter cup in my hand #my friend took a picture it was funny i was laughing between sobs #like that’s the text i have wanted all of his other texts to be for 1.75 years #and not only that #but he held me sooooo good last night #idk how this man had a 3 year relationship without ever cuddling on his side but i made him hold me with like my face in his chest #and then he actually liked it #and so we did that for like an hour #and normally the sex is the main event of the night but i could tell that it was the holding for both of us #and the lack physical intimacy and compliments are two of my biggest reasons to end this #so i’m just feeling happy but really confused and frustrated that he’s doing this with 9 days left

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starkidlabs · 2 months

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Haha I should not have read my mums texts

#I knew my sister was bitching about me to my mum but I didn’t think it was that bad #like in terms of this situation my mum was completely completely on my side so it’s nothing to do with her #but I just can’t believe she said these things about me #essentially I worked for her for 4 days straight for free - it was a 14 hour shift on a bar #each day - so 56 hours in total #it was extremely hard on me mentally and physically but I did it because I wanted to help her all I could #I had a job interview essentially 2 days later where I needed to produce a social media reel #I had to make it while working on the bar because I wouldn’t have time to do it otherwise #I asked her to watch the reel a total of 2 times #and because she had canva premium she said she’d download it for me the next day (otherwise the video wouldn’t have backing music) - then #it wouldn’t download from her account - so I sent her the video and asked her to put the music over it - which would take 5 mins of her time #(it literally only took me 5 mins and she’s much more experienced at canva than I am)#she flat out refused - my mum then called her to try and explain the situation and she got really angry at her - eventually she sent me her #log in details - then I added the music myself #it was really disheartening for me because I gave up 56 hours of my time for her and she couldn’t even give up 5 mins #since then I’ve read these texts and she said she feels like she’s in an abusive relationship with me because all she does is give and all #I do is take #and the thing she cited was me asking her to check over the video (I asked her 3 times max - the video is 50 seconds - and also saying no #when she asked me to prep some cocktails for the next day at the bar - it was 12am - I’d been working since 10am and I was so exhausted that #I was shaking when I came home - I sat and cried in the toilets because I was so exhausted)#I literally give up so much of myself for her - even when she’s mean to me for no reason - I would never say she was abusive to me #and yet I’m abusive for asking for her help on a task that would take her no more than 5 minutes #I don’t know if I can ever speak to he in the same way again #I mean for god sakes I spent an entire week beforehand helping her prep for the festival because she was so stressed #I asked her to help me once and she saw me as abusive #I don’t even know if I can ever help her again because what’s the point of giving and giving if my giving is never good enough for her #I don’t know the things she said really mirrored the things my ex friends once said about me and it hurts coming from her because I thought #she wouldn’t ever view me that way #and I can’t even talk to anyone about this because ya know I should not have read my mums texts

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squirmydonnie · 4 months

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🤐

#cheeseburgerboy #i said it but no one saw. so i felt really bad.#and i couldn't sleep.#i thought something terrible would happen #i cried a lot #it took until 4 for my eyes to stop swelling #they usually do that. and they stay like that for a bit. so like hours #but its usually more like 10. not 4.#i feel incredibly angry today #because i said it. and no one said anything.#so it made me really discouraged.#but maybe ill feel like trying again one day.#im too angry right now. and too sad.#10 in the morning is a lot less weird than 4 in the afternoon.

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femmelated · 6 months

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sad dumb thoughts

#ive been trying really hard to be kind to myself today #it took me approximately 8 hours to grocery shop and make lunch for tomorrow #and i feel really stupid about it bc i didnt get any work done and its 4 am now #i cried all day and still now #but i keep telling myself that if somebody spoke to me the way i talk to myself i wouldn’t speak to the again #this is so dumb but im trying to reframe my thoughts to how i’d like my partner to treat me #soft and gentle and understanding and loving #and in the spirit of that im gonna let myself sleep a couple hours before i go to my morning job #trying to not feel guilty IM GONNA B SO BRAVE ABOUT IT #mine

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snowfalltxt · 1 year

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Oh my god for christmas my friend gave me a txt notebook (really good quality actually), 50 stickers of taylor, a different version of the midnights album, a drawing she did of the txt logo and the members in costumes, and a pop up card with things she wrote about us on each ‘page’ but she included taylor song lyric references and she also added pictures of taylor and txt in it too

The front of the card had a 13 sticker. One of my two fav numbers.

The popup card turned into a box shape once you assembled it if that made sense

Like not the simple popup cards

#omfg #shes so nice #i almost cried when i ripped the wrapping paper to see txts handsome faces omfg #best gifts anyone has ever gotten me #she sends new pics that txt posts sometimes and it scares me because shes not even a huge fan but she knows i like them so #will treasure this forever #my other friend told me that the drawing took my friend 3/4 hours omg 😭😭😭😭#its so cute #txt #.my thoughts 💭

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assassinsblade · 4 months

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Forget Me Not | 5

It is your turn to experience guilt and regret, while Azriel takes some time to himself.

WC: 4.4k

Warnings: TW: SA, brief mentions of suicidal thoughts/ideations!!! Please do not read if this is triggering for you. Angst, feelings, we are all sad but we are taking a turn for the better!

a/n: All of the comments and responses to Part 4 were seriously incredible. I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday tomorrow if they celebrate!!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

-------------------------------------

Azriel's shadows surrounded him before he could command them to do anything else. Darkness swallowed his vision, his chest, his heart, gods, he was dying wasn't he? Was this what dying felt like?

He felt like he couldn't breathe. Pain was searing through his chest as if a fiery sword was sticking from his ribcage, and he barely felt his knees crashing to the ground underneath him.

He didn't know where he had subconsciously winnowed to until he heard his brother's voice, filled with shock and confusion.

"Az?"

Hands were pushing his shoulders back, trying to get him to unfold from himself, to stop grasping his chest. His chest, his chest, his chest, it burned-

"Feyre, get Madja."

Azriel tried to shake his head, but he was so dizzy he couldn't tell if he made the movement or not. He vaguely heard Feyre's movements shuffle to a halt. Rhys must have stopped her at his attempt to say no.

"What happened?" Rhys questioned, voice strong despite the panic slowly making its way in.

Azriel was sobbing. He didn't know when he had started, but he knew he had broken. His own chokes and cries echoed in Rhys' office, his tears falling onto the cold marble floor beneath their knees. Pain laced across his skin from his fingernails digging into his own flesh, and he felt Rhys trying to pry the grip away.

"Kill me," Azriel sobbed. "Please, kill me. Do something, just make it stop-"

Rhys dove for his brother at the words, pulling him into a tight hug. The embrace did little to help with the overwhelming torture raging within the shadowsinger. He was going to die, he wanted to die.

He had never hated himself more, hated how it felt like his body was going to eat him alive if he took one more breath.

The constant memories shooting behind his eyes like poison: his mother mistreated by the Illyrian men while his hands burned, Mor left naked and alone in that forest with a sign punctured to her womb and him not arriving until hours into her pain, Rhys walking into a trap because he hadn’t seen it and hadn’t stopped it, Gwyn violated and tortured because he hadn’t been aware enough to spoil the plot or get there soon enough, and then you — your bloody body being carried in Cassian’s arms, clothes torn off, having been forgotten by him.

"Don't you dare say that." The male trying to keep him together spoke with such command, but the shadowsinger's pain persisted.

"I can't do this, Rhys. She-"

He couldn't stop crying, he couldn't stop hurting, he felt like he was screaming...

"Feyre," he heard Rhys call distantly. Everything was blurry, everything was awful. His head was pounding, his body was giving up on him, and then he felt delicate hands on his cheeks, a soothing feminine voice, and then nothing.

As darkness swallowed him whole, he saw only the glinting gold swimming inside his chest, reaching like a rope into darkness.

It was quiet for a bit. Safe, surrounded by nothing but shadows so much like his own, and the small golden light flickering inside of him. He would be content to stay there forever. To no longer live as the monster he’d become, to be able to pretend he was nothing, no one, just a fluid existence stretched through space. Like the embodiment of flying through the skies of Velaris, wings splayed wide and air crisp and free all around.

Unfortunately though, Azriel’s peace was short lived. Before he could truly bask in the quiet, he was being pulled out of his mind and back into the present.

Bright light hit his face, shining through the window of his bedroom at the House of Wind. His shadows immediately swarmed the opening, pulling at the curtains until he was once again draped in darkness.

He sighed and sat up, running his hands down his face. He felt overly fatigued, his entire body weighed down with guilt, self-hatred, and the words you had spoken to him.

He did let everyone he knew down. He already knew that, reminded himself of that every single day, but that didn't make it hurt any less coming from your lips.

Rhys, one of the many people he had failed, had not stopped staring at him. Azriel knew his brother was waiting for him to break the silence.

His voice sounded broken to his own ears, weak and cracking even when spoken in a low volume. “I don’t know what to say.”

He truly didn’t. What should he have said? Hey Rhys, thanks for tucking me in after I had a complete breakdown, you can leave now.

“You can start by explaining why you came to my office and begged me to kill you.”

Yeah, Rhys was not happy.

Azriel sighed, feeling his chest pinch at the memories. He wasn't happy either.

You’re no hero. You’re a joke.

Your hands are the ones hurting me.

That’s all you're good for: inflicting damage.

“Azriel.” Rhys interrupted his thoughts.

He swallowed, feeling himself tear up again. He hadn’t cried this much since Rhys went under the mountain.

“She’s my mate,” he finally spoke, voice quiet and chest cracking open at the confession.

Rhys didn’t even blink. Azriel couldn’t meet his gaze though.

“Who?”

Rhys knew who. Based on Azriel’s reaction to the information alone, he knew.

Azriel didn’t answer the question, knowing it was unnecessary. Instead, he gazed at his scarred hands resting in his lap and said, “I went to train, and she was already in there. The bond snapped before she even turned around.”

“Does she know?”

He shook his head, focusing on the sting in his arm. “She wouldn’t have missed if she did.”

He felt Rhys eyeing the slash against his bicep, already weaving itself back together. Then his friend studied the rest of Azriel's body language. The way his shoulders were curved in on himself, the way his fingers traced over the scars on his hands, the ghostly look in the male's hazel eyes despite them glistening with tears.

"What did she say?" Rhys ended up asking after his silent observations.

"Enough."

His brother didn't let Azriel brush him off though. "Whatever she said, she didn't mean it, Az."

Azriel scoffed. "Look into my mind, see how she looked at me, and then you try to tell me she didn't mean it."

"She is angry and grieving, and you are the only person available that she can blame and take it out on. Her anger," Rhys suddenly grabbed Azriel's arm, positioning it so he could nod to the reddened gash, "that anger, is because she cares. She's hurt because she loves you."

Azriel shook his arm out of his friend's grip. "It doesn't matter. I fucked up, and I can't take that back. The damage has been done, Rhys."

"I used to think that too." Violet eyes met his. "Feyre hated me, in case you forgot."

Azriel didn't budge, so Rhys continued. "I know what you're feeling right now. That it'd be alright if she hated you, as long as she's safe. But it still hurts, knowing she thinks poorly of you, and that feeling builds up. But your journey with her is not over. She is a forgiving person, you just need to give her grace while she heals. And you need to give yourself grace, because you're in a painful position too."

He nodded, letting a few tears fall. His palm automatically reached for his chest, rubbing it in an effort to soothe the ache there.

“How did you do it? How did you live with it hurting this bad? After Feyre said…”

Rhys sighed, letting out a small breathy laugh — a genuine one. “It wasn’t easy. I left for those days before Starfall, ignored her letters, sorted out my thoughts. Came to the conclusion that even if Feyre never loved me, I would always love her and I’d be happy to do so. And I have a family who I love dearly, who also loves me.”

The pointed look he gave Azriel was obvious, reminding him that his family was there and worried about him too. They had seen the way he’d turned into a shell of himself, barely sleeping in case you had a nightmare and needed him, barely eating or training, his entire reserve of energy being put into monitoring your safety and wellbeing. And he knew they cared, he really did.

Cassian had been trying to get Azriel back into the swing of training again, wanting him to express some of his heavy emotions in the ring, or at least talk to his brother while sparring and practicing. Instead, Azriel was seclusive and pulled the punches he threw the Illyrian’s way.

Rhys had given Azriel time off from his missions, delegating the work to those under the spymaster to take some weight off of Azriel’s shoulders for a bit. Azriel had at first refused but had given in when Rhys had pointed out that time and attention needed to be focused at home anyway, what with the Illyrians’ growing mistrust of Cassian, Azriel, and himself, the threat of an uprising ever present.

But now with what you had said…

“I think it’d be best if I went away for a bit.” His voice was quiet, resigned, lifeless to his own ears.

“By yourself?” Rhys asked, clearly not liking the idea.

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Just — I think some space from her would be good. You even said you needed that when Feyre had hurt you.”

His brother’s violet eyes softened with understanding. “You’re right. I did. But I do think this is a bit more complex. What if you went with Amren or Mor to see Jurian and Lucien? See what they have been up to for a bit? You can leave some of the work to them, but have something to distract you should you need it.”

Azriel was quiet as he considered, but Rhys cut in before he could agree too soon. “But you come back. And you come back within the month.”

Azriel nodded. “Okay,” he relented.

“Okay,” Rhys repeated. His hand clasped Azriel’s shoulder in support, giving his brother a meaningful look. “I know I sound like an asshole, but it will work out. I know it. You two are too special, in general and to each other for this not to work out.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut out the pain that came with his brother’s words.

He swallowed, composing himself before meeting his friend’s gaze with teary eyes of his own. “Tell Mor I’ll meet her on the border in an hour.”

-------------------------------------

You skipped training the next night, too emotionally drained to make it out of your room. Cassian hadn't come to find you, either. Maybe he had even heard of your argument with Azriel.

Instead of going to the training ring, you tried to read your books (pushing away the reminder that Azriel had gotten them for you), took some long baths, tried to write, and listened to music.

Nothing kept your mind distracted from what you had said to Azriel, though.

The instant relief that had coursed through your veins when the anger had seeped into the air, draining from where it had hardened in your chest and allowing you to feel lighter, changed over the course of the day into something just as volatile.

You felt guilty. So, insanely guilty.

You kept remembering the look on his face when you had mentioned Mor, Rhys, Gwyn, his mother…

The way his hands clenched and fiddled with themselves when you had told him you see them hurting you in your dreams.

The tears that streaked down his cheeks silently as you just kept on coming and coming, attacking and attacking.

And he had let you. He had stood there possibly from shock, guilt, care, and just let you tear into him without any retaliation.

You had never uttered words so cruel to someone.

And you hadn’t even meant them.

Sure, you had been so angry at him. You had felt so hurt and demeaned, that you wanted to do the same to him. But did you actually blame him for what had happened to his friends? Did he hold the responsibility for the entire world in his scarred hands?

Of course not. But you knew that he thought so. And you had used that against him.

Azriel had never meant for you to get hurt. You, on the other hand, had intentionally hurt him.

Did that not make you so much worse?

You cried yourself to sleep that next night, your actions sending you into a downward spiral of shame. Despite taking the tonic Madja had provided you for sleeping, you found yourself at the mercy of your guilt, your mind tormenting you with Azriel’s hurt and your own mistakes.

If you had known this dream would have taken a turn for the worse, creating a scenario that would haunt you even more than the memories of that night, you never would have closed your eyes.

It had started the same as the others: the snow, the alleyway, the blonde-haired male licking up your neck and reaching for your middle. This time though, when you brought the dagger down into the male’s neck, a familiar choking sound echoed into your ear.

Azriel.

The same noise that had escaped his lips after your weaponized words stabbed into him.

Then his hazel eyes met yours, the snow falling from Velaris’ night sky dusting his black hair. And there was so much pain, hurt, and betrayal in his gold and green irises that you felt sick.

“No-” you panicked, reaching out for him as the bright red blood poured down his neck and over your hands.

No, no, no. Not him. How could you have done this? You were hurting him, you were killing him.

Your hands moved quickly, pushing against the wound as sobs loudly slipped past your lips. "Azriel-" you started to say.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. His eyes tried to get your attention, but he was already weak, slipping through your hands and falling onto the pavement below.

When the dagger fell from his neck, you saw the charcoal-colored aggressive waves adorning the top of the hilt and nearly collapsed.

You had killed Azriel with his own weapon. The weapon he had lent to help you, you had taken and stabbed him in return. His support, his offer to make amends, his kind-hearted generosity toward you, turned around to tear into his lifeline.

You killed him.

And hurting him did not feel as good as you had imagined in that training ring, both then and now, snow falling onto his tan skin in the alleyway.

As you stared into his empty eyes, somehow still sparkling with the stars of Velaris, you couldn’t help but scream.

Waking from the nightmare was nearly as difficult as wading through it in your sleep. Your ears were ringing, throat sore, and mouth dry. You were so nauseous, your stomach gurgled as if it was warning you its contents could come up at any time.

You didn’t go to the library to read or run yourself another bath in an attempt to relax. Instead, you found yourself throwing the blankets off of yourself, still trying to catch your breath, and making your way hastily to Azriel’s door.

It seemed so similar to that first week after the assault, when you had sought out Cassian before relying on Azriel for a night. Only this time, as you stumbled through the hall, your only thought was on passing Cassian’s door and finding yourself in front of Azriel’s.

You felt so scared, so anxious, and for the first time in months it wasn’t for your own safety.

Your heart pounded in your chest as your toes padded down the cold floor. But it completely stopped when you noticed the difference in the House of Wind.

Azriel’s door, always left cracked with the light on since your first nightmare after the incident, was now closed, with nothing but black on the other side.

You nearly caved into yourself.

Who could blame him? You had been a terrible person. And despite what he had done to you, it was understandable if he never wanted to see or talk to you again.

Just the thought of him being in pain because of you behind that door…

You hesitantly stepped closer, bringing your fist up to the wood.

“I’m sorry,” he had whispered in your dream.

You knocked softly, waiting a few moments before calling out his name. When no response came, you couldn’t help the anxiety that coursed through you, bringing scared tears to your eyes.

Shaking on your toes a bit, you knocked again. Blood flashed across your mind, his lifeless eyes, his look of betrayal.

"Please," you whispered, calling out to him gently.

But you couldn't wait any longer. Your hands slowly twisted the doorknob, your mind not even thinking of the consequences of entering a spymaster's room unsolicited.

You would just see that he was alright and safe, and then you would go back to your room. Plus, his shadows would let him know you were entering, they would warn him of your presence and could push you out if need be.

At this thought, you suddenly noticed the lone shadow that had trailed you for months was no longer at your side. The darkness behind his door swallowed you whole at the realization. He was gone, done, and you along with him.

You spiraled further, pushing into the room and daring to look around.

It was empty. Darkness shaded the clean room, but there was no shadowsinger, no living presence occupying the space.

Was he on a mission? Did he leave without telling anyone?

His choking noise permeated through your mind again, and you found yourself becoming dizzy with panic and anxiety, the guilt and regret spreading so far into your gut you were sure it was physically damaging you.

Stumbling over to his bed, you collapsed onto it, first sitting before bringing your knees up to your chest and allowing yourself to seek out his warmth and scent in the duvet and sheets. He was okay, you told yourself. He was always okay.

But the lack of your shadow friend spoke volumes. He was done with you. Done trying to prove himself, done trying to be your friend. And it hurt just as bad now when he actively decided to leave you compared to when he did it unintentionally.

Because despite it all, you did love him. You had just become so hurt and destructive that you ruined yourself further in the process, striking out at him as collateral.

You buried yourself deeper into his covers, not even caring when your tears soaked into his pillow. And maybe you imagined the footsteps you heard outside Azriel’s door, the way Cassian’s door had opened and closed and a presence had hesitated outside of the shadowsinger’s room as if they were listening and contemplating.

You surely imagined Azriel coming home and allowing you to speak with him, and in these hopes you understood how he felt this whole time. The silence, the darkness, the guilt and self-hatred. And the never-ending fear that you had done something you could never repair. That you weren’t good enough or redeemable enough to repair.

The last image that crossed through your mind before your swollen eyes succumbed to sleep was Azriel’s face when he had seen you that first day in the kitchen with Rhys. His nervous and devastated but hopeful expression.

You hated yourself.

-------------------------------------

In the morning, Feyre paid you a visit.

She did not comment on you leaving Azriel’s room, but the look she gave you was observant.

The conversation had started out small with her asking how you were doing, checking in on your training progress, if you had been reading anything good lately, if you had tried the meal Cassian made last night for dinner.

Then it was silent, and she hesitated before steeling herself like the High Lady she was.

“Azriel left the other night. Whatever you had said to him, whatever had happened two nights ago, I’m not sure he deserved it.”

You didn’t want to ask about the state she had seen him in. You didn’t want to know how deep the damage you had dealt went, because if you pictured his hurt expression one more time, you thought you might actually shatter.

You stared down at your hands in disappointment and shame, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from crying. You weren’t the victim this time around; you didn’t deserve to cry. And your eyes hurt so bad from crying so much.

“I think you two should talk. Your relationship has become so destructive I’m not sure either of you will come out at the end. Talk.” She demanded, her voice firm.

You nodded in agreement, swallowing the lump in your throat down before asking what you had been wondering since last night. “Where did he go?”

“To the mortal lands with Mor. He needed some time.”

Of course. Of course he needed time, and you would give him that. But you needed him to know that you were at least sorry, because you had no idea when he would be ready to return.

“If I were to give you a letter for him, would you make sure he receives it?”

Feyre sighed, thinking about the consequences of the action, before finally softening and nodding. She understood the need to reach out after such an incident, and you noticed her eyes flicker as she doubtlessly thought back to when Rhys left for a bit before Starfall and ignored her own letters.

“Sure. But you must be kind.”

You nodded again, that pang of disappointment and shame flaring to life again in your chest, and you thought of all the things you needed and wanted to say to Azriel.

But when you actually went to put pen to paper later that night, you found yourself second-guessing everything.

You had gone too far in punishing him — for something he was not even completely to blame for — and he probably didn’t want to hear from you. You should let him breathe, give him time to think and unwind without your existence constantly ruining him.

But then you thought of him standing in the training ring, hurt, crying, alone, and your hands were moving.

Azriel, you started the letter. I know you probably don’t want to hear from me, but I think I would regret not sending this to you, not telling you everything you deserve to hear. And I don’t want to regret anything else.

First, I need to apologize. Profusely. You don’t need to forgive me or give me another second of your time, but I am begging you to know and understand that I did not mean a word I said the other night. I could name a thousand reasons why the words went past my lips, but they will never unspeak them. I will forever regret that night, more than any other night in my life.

Please know that even in the times when I am carried away by anger, when I am less than human, less than any of you deserve, I have always admired you. Sometimes I think that made the anger worse, twining together with the care I have for you until it became some kind of warped emotional weapon.

I do think you are a hero. And redeemable and brave and a savior. And I’m sorry for ever trying to put in your mind that you are anything but. You have saved me more times than I could mention in the size of this letter, just in the time I have known you. Please know that.

I have no right to ask, not after everything we have gone through the last few months, but when you are ready, I would really like to sit down and speak with you. About everything.

Maybe we can find a way forward. Or at least a way to exist together without any pain.

You don’t need to respond. I will be here, and I can wait as you’ve waited for me to be ready to talk.

Be safe. If not for me then for yourself and your family.

Then you stopped. Because how were you supposed to sign this off? You pictured his frown at reading the letter, at your words he no longer trusted or felt warmth from. You hated that frown, the sadness you had seen from him so much as of late.

In the meantime, you wrote, I will read the books you left me, continue to purchase those tart pastries from near the Rainbow, and find comfort in your bedroom light remaining on, if not just to remind me of your kindness.

I appreciate your help, even when you are not near. And then you signed your name.

You would wait for his response (or lack of) and for his return. And then you would have the chance to talk. You would be able to hear his own thoughts, emotions, apologies, and curses before letting out your own.

Strength was what you needed until then. The strength to self-reflect on the blame you had placed on him, the words you had thrown around so carelessly. Strength that would get you through the oncoming storm, the marching warriors coming for Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys. The Illyrians wishing to overthrow the high lord and his enforcers, coming to take them down in any way they could.

Their marching was coming, the stomps matching the pounding in your chest.

You’d be strong, and you would wait for him to return. You would hold your ground, dagger at your side and heart hesitantly ready to be displayed.

And maybe, if all went in your favor, you two could finally have that talk.

#acotar x reader #azriel angst #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar fic

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cassie48 · 2 months

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• 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘺 •

Dark!Paul atreides x fem pregnant reader

Pt 4

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

It had been almost 2 months since Paul had took over as emperor. Life was great, people treated you like a queen. You lived in a huge temple, with more handmaidens than you can count.

More importantly though, you had Paul. You no longer had to worry about him, as he was the most powerful man in the empire. Paul had been more colder, but in all honesty you didn’t care, because he never was to you.

Last night you and Paul were sat in your shared bedroom, laying together in your bed. Paul was always doting on you, and ordered doctors to check on you every day. Last week a doctor had said you should stay in bed when possible, and that the baby was due anyday.

Your head was on his chest, his hands wrapped around you. You were so tired, your body was overwhelmed with pregnancy. 𝗔𝗻𝘆𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗻𝗼𝘄, you told yourself.

“Has the doctor been kind to you?” Paul questioned.

“He’s nice, he seems to know what he’s talking about” you say, your eyes closed.

“If he’s ever 𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗲 to you, tell me” he says placing his hand over your large bump.

You nod into his chest before dozing off to sleep for the second time that day. Paul laughed to himself, he loved seeing you like this. He was excited for his son to come into the world but, in all honesty he is gonna miss you being pregnant.

He was going to miss the sight of you full with his child, your reliance on him, your pouty lips and watery eyes when you didn’t get what you want.

He sighed kissing your head before slipping out of bed, to go back to work. He had been quite busy recently, due to only becoming emperor.

You awoke the next morning, looking to your side only to see no sight of Paul. Although you wished he was there it didn’t come as a surprise, he was so busy lately. You sat up slightly, only for your mouth to drop in shock.

You looked down to see wetness on the bed. Your water had broken.

You called your handmaidens who were in the next room. They immediately came to your side, one running off to find the doctor.

The doctor came and got you comfortable, telling you that you still had at least two hours before the baby would come.

You tried to stay calm as your contractions worsened, after an hour you started crying for Paul, the doctor said it was best to leave him at his work.

You didn’t listen and kept begging for him to be brought here. Finally one of you handmaidens agreed to tell him.

When Paul heard someone walk into his meeting room he was furious, 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘂𝗽𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗺𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗼𝗿, he thought.

“Get out” he said coldly.

“My lord, it’s the empress, the baby is coming” she said quickly and frighteningly.

Paul’s eyes widened in shock, as he quickly left a room, not a word to the men sat all around him.

Once arriving to your room, he noticed the door closed for your privacy.

“My lord, it’s best for you to wait out here, birth is not a nice sight” A guard said.

“Are you telling me the empress is not a beautiful sight?” He growled.

“N-No my lord I simply-“ he started

“Oh I see, you do think she’s beautiful. How dare you be around her, she’s not a sight anyone like you should see. I command you open these doors” Paul yelled full of rage.

The guard quickly yanked open the doors, scared for his life. He had never seen the emperor so angry before.

Paul walked into the room full of power, shoving past people in his way.

“Paul?” A gentle voice cried out

He looked to his right to see you lying on the bed with tears in your eyes. He quickly made his way beside you.

“I’m here my love, why are you crying?” He said kissing your hand

“I thought you wouldn’t come” you said in a sad voice.

“I’d never miss the birth of our son” he said in a stern voice.

“My lady, the time has come for you to start pushing” the doctor said.

You nodded and began to push, this went on for minutes, blood sweat and tears included in the process when suddenly a high pitched cry entered the room, making everything else quiet too.

You began to cry seeing your baby, Paul sitting beside you helping you sit up a little as your baby was handed to you.

“Oh, my baby” you cried leaning on Paul’s side. You kissed your sons head, rocking him gently.

“What shall we name him Paul?” You asked with a smile.

“I think Duncan would suit him just fine” Paul said, smiling down at his little family.

You nodded, sniffling as your tears stopped eventually.

A few hours later, you had been washed and taken care of, and your room was cleaned also.

The doctor gathered his things, before turning the the couple.

“The last thing to do is for you to breastfeed my lady, let me show yo-“ the doctor began.

“Her handmaidens may show her, leave” Paul yelled in anger.

The doctor nodded before speed walking out the door. You laughed slightly.

Paul joined you in your bed once more, kissing your sons head, and then pecking your lips, the two of you had never been happier.

Man’s there it was,

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘺

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

I hope you all enjoyed this four part story, I have a feeling I’m not done writing for Paul….

#paul atreides #paul atredies x reader #paul atreides x reader yandere #paul atreides x reader #chani #zendaya #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet #dune part two #dune 2024 #smut #fanfiction #sci fi and fantasy

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