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amourdivine · 3 months

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𝐖𝐇𝐎'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅? ઉ PICK A CARD

Hello lovelies, I hope you're having a wonderful week! This is perhaps the first heavily shadow work focused PAC I bring to you. I'm quite nervous to post this, since I know delivering these messages can be difficult and I don't like taking a harsh, judgmental approach. I hope this reading resonates. As always, feedback is highly appreciated! If you liked this reading, please consider tipping me at @ [email protected]! xo ♡

paid readings are closed as of february 2024

none of the images are mine unless stated otherwise!

pick a card masterlist & information

how to choose your pile. take a few deep breaths for and look at each and of the piles separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later!

amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

୨୧ PILE ONE

who is your shadow self? eight of swords • knight of cups • nine of wands • queen of wands

Your shadow self is the fearful side of you attached to anxiety. The side of you that does not believe you can save yourself from bad situations and feels endlessly hopeless, helpless and trapped. It causes a self-fulfilling prophecy, one where you think you'll inevitably fail, so you self-sabotage (either consciously or not) and end up "proving" yourself right.

However, as helpless as your shadow feels, it never asks for help. It's trapped in a spiral of shame and self-doubt, even self-hatred. All of this happens mentally for most of you, to the point where your body is neglected or stuck in flight / freeze mode. I feel stuck in the gutter, unable to move in the sticky mud. Despite your best efforts to succeed, you may suffer from impostor's syndrome as well, an inability to see your worth, your beauty and your own light. It's almost as if you're scared of your own power, pile one. Very painful, very self-inflicted and something which you may have learn from childhood, maybe you got bullied a lot or were heavily criticized by the people around you. If that happened, I'm so sorry pile one. You deserved so much better. You still do.

how can you work with your shadow self? nine of cups • the sun • queen of swords • queen of wands

You know, when I was entering college, I had a counselor whose words were life changing to me. One day, he picked up a cup full of coffee and asked me: how do you get rid of the coffee, without throwing it out entirely? And I was puzzled. It wasn't possible. Him, in his neverending patience, took me to the water station and started pouring water onto it, until the coffee was cleared away and all that remained was clean, crystal liquid.

Maybe the bad things that happened still haunt you, but they can be drawn out by the good ones. Seek for the light, pile one. Seek the nurturing experiences, the days when you allow yourself to just be, seek the help, the love and stay open to the love. Stay open to the idea that yes, you are worthy, even if you do not feel like it, even if so many people have made you feel otherwise.

These wounds may not fade entirely with time, but you are more than them, always. Always. I know it's never easy to challenge what we've been taught about ourselves, but in order to unlearn all of that, you will have to learn the new things, the true things about you. If they said you were lazy - was that really true? Or were you just tired? You're not "naive", you're pure. You're not "too sensitive", you're in tune with your emotions.

The stories we tell ourselves hold power. What stories are you telling about yourself? Maybe it's time to switch to a new point of view, one where you can rewrite yourself as the person you were never allowed to be.

୨୧ PILE TWO

who is your shadow self? judgement • five of swords • ten of cups • king of wands

Your shadow self is the side of you that thrives in chaos - listen, that's not entirely a bad thing, after all, our shadow reflects something which we need to acknowledge, nurture and work with. However, when you perceive danger or feel threatened, you may turn to harsh words or hurtful actions to avenge yourself.

It can manifest in the form of extreme competitive behavior, the inability to rest, overworking, even maybe envy, jealousy and arrogance sometimes. Now, I'm not here to judge or shame you, you're safe here. I think you have and still feel the need to prove yourself to others, to prove them all wrong. Maybe other people told you that you couldn't do it - and you took it all personally, so personally that it crumbles your self-esteem when someone diminishes your efforts or accomplishments.

Your shadow side craves attention, praise and approval. You want to succeed, to be someone you're proud of, to just never feel insecure, diminished or ignored again. You can also turn possessive with loved ones, wondering if they really love you or if they are lying. There's a lot of skepticism here, too.

how can you work with your shadow self? judgement • ace of pentacles • three of pentacles • eight of swords

Acknowledge your feelings and these insecurities. "Fake it 'till you make it" doesn't always work. Being vulnerable is, ironically, also being strong. Understanding your limitations and allowing for other people to collaborate with you (and vice-versa) will take you even further in life.

Your sense of justice is commendable. Make sure you're using it for justice indeed, and not just vengeance. Your ambition can walk hand in hand with your desire to do good, to make space for everyone else to shine, to open up to others, let them see all of you. No one can love perfection - even if they could, what's there to love about something or someone so perfect that they barely feel human?

It's okay to be scared, to feel insecure, to not shove difficult emotions under the rug. We cannot be at our 100% all the time. And we cannot please everyone, all the time. What you can do is praise yourself, let others praise you when they do and accept it gracefully, making sure you're spreading your warmth and wisdom to others as well. See, I think you have overcome a lot and a lot of people could use your help, either in the form of advice, resources or a shoulder to lean on.

You have leadership potential, pile two. Don't limit yourself by being alone. We were never meant to make it on our own.

୨୧ PILE THREE

who is your shadow self? ace of wands • page of swords • three of cups • king of pentacles

Your shadow self is someone who may indulge in harmful habits out of a need for instant gratification, maybe reckless spending, speed driving, partying everyday or simply not saving up resources and caring about the future. Your shadow self is someone who hates boredom, who craves excitement and cannot fully deal with long-term commitment in its many forms. It wants novelty, adventure and it comes at the cost of your responsibilities, your routine and your friendships even.

This shadow self hates suffering (fair enough, who doesn't?!) and will to go great lengths to avoid it... but ironically, it causes you more pain in the long run by avoiding the unavoidable. By never crying, never addressing your issues or your difficult moments, you end up running right back into yourself and these same issues return.

This side of you doesn't want to grow up - you don't want to fall into the trap of routine and a boring, 9-5 job. But excessive habits are difficult to maintain, no matter how good it feels in the short term. There's a difficult, troubled perception of adulthood and life itself. A need for constant adventure and chaos, a feeling of entrapment whenever you are with anyone who loves you, because you fear being controlled, tamed and used.

how can you work with your shadow self? the tower • nine of wands • nine of cups • three of pentacles

To put it simply, let yourself hurt. Let the foundations of your heart crumble, stop to feel just for a second. You don't have to be on the run all the time. What are you running from, pile three? Disaster, pain and hurt are often inevitable, but they do not have to be the be-all, end-all of our lives. The Tower is a reminder that all that crumbles was meant to crumble eventually, and there is beauty in letting things end naturally, allowing the flow of life to do its thing.

That means aging, growing, learning from the seasons. I think you have a very, very deep heart and mind you're scared to tap into. You're scared to be trapped in the endless hustle, to never feel alive or good once you "settle". But who says the big joys are the only ones that matter? As someone said once, big joys and small joys are often the same. Sometimes, waking up in itself can be an adventure. Don't overlook or underestimate the ways life tries to find you, to cling to you - remember to embark on the hard journeys, knowing you'll have gotten something valuable in the end.

You're brave and rebellious. You can be a catalyst for change in so many ways. Who said adulthood has to be boring? Who said you have to work a 9-5? Do you have to get married? Maybe being a stay-at-home parent isn't for you. That's okay.

Challenging the status quo may not be easy, but you have a natural inclination for it. Your shadow self can dive deeper. It's one of your greatest tools. Your need for joy and fun is not shameful - you can use it for healing, instead of self-destruction.

୨୧ PILE FOUR

who is your shadow self? judgment rx • justice • the high priestess rx • knight of swords

Your shadow self is the side of you that refuses to acknowledge your needs, your wants and desires. It makes you live inside of a bubble, scared of the truth, even if it will set you free. I had the hardest time shuffling for this pile, I kept trying and trying but nothing made sense. I think this is how your shadow side manifests as well, in the lack of clarity, the fogginess that permeates the choices you've regretted.

It's both reckless and frozen, completely lost in a maze, confused, looking for a path, for directions, for anything. It's almost as if you lost your compass, nothing eventually guides you and you remain looking for the directions only you have.

It's too scared to admit what it wants, who you are. Both out of fear of what other people will say, but also out of fear that it'll all go wrong. It's the side of you that remains disconnected from yourself, hidden because it keeps highlighting the aspects you keep trying to ignore, to not know. It can manifest in a lot of ways, either through people-pleasing or being completely reckless. Through lying, denial or even isolation from the world, from life itself.

Something funny is that a song by Bad Suns that just started playing really relates to this pile. "Cinderella slips into a dream like a curse / you could mistake it for heaven at first." This shadow self may live in projection, daydreaming or simply keep you out of touch with everything.

how can you work with your shadow self? six of pentacles • page of wands • two of wands • king of cups

Engagement and socializing are big ways you can work with your shadow self. Being actively curious about the world, about people. Approaching relationships, truths and life itself with genuine interest, no judgement or shaming thoughts involved.

Telling yourself you're an eternal student of this world, because we are and remembering you don't have to know everything. Start scared. Most things, you'll have to do it scared. Unprepared. In the thick of it all, you'll find the answers you need, but only if you are willing to dive deep for them. No taking shortcuts, making assumptions or allowing self-doubt to paralyze your living, because you need to witness life as it is.

Therapy is one big thing, music as well. Anything that connects you to your deepest self, relationships that genuinely make room for who you are, good friends that feel safe and non-judgemental. Your heart has been calling you for so long, pile four. It's about time you listen to it. It knows everything you need to know.

disclaimer. tarot not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i do not take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings. please remember you are responsible for life and in power of it, no one else! ♡

amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

#pick a card #tarotblr #tarot reading #pick a card reading #tarot #pac reading #astrology #witchblr #tarot witch #pagan #mine.

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eveledoze · 2 months

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spoilers for ep7 ! things about N and Uzi i wanted to point out 1/? I may sound stupid and naive going into all these details, so I'm sorry

we all thought that he was looking at Uzi worriedly, but in reality he was shocked because the elevator was broken and because now the path to V was blocked. he's really worried and angry about it (and it's so unusual to see him like that)

Tessa tells him to look back and at first he looks angry, but then his face softens. for a moment he simply forgot what state Uzi was in cuz he was worried about V (we know that now this Tessa is not exactly Tessa, but I will call her that cuz it’s convenient for me and so as not to get confused)

Uzi realizes that she has poor control over her powers and bitterly admits that she cannot do anything. she sincerely apologizes and you can hear that she feels guilty from her helplessness + exhausted from pain this short moment honestly killed me- their voice intonations, words and music, it hits so hard (thank you AJ Dispirito! /mega pos) also i find it strange that at first there was no blood, then it appeared cuz of something (even though she doesn’t even have a crack in her visor like Doll) and then the blood disappeared

but well okay-

he sincerely apologizes, feeling guilty for his inattention to her well-being, and he comes to comfort her, his body language shows this but Tessa interrupts them

Tessa calls him to explain to Uzi what's going on (lmao his face)

he rubs his hands together, which indicates his nervousness, as he realizes that his words will make her more worried and terrified of what they might find out and see, so this will make the situation worse

you can hear from the tone of Uzi's voice that she is beginning to suspect that they know more than she does, and for some reason they are not telling her this. she seems annoyed at the withholding of information, causing her to lose trust in Tessa and N

he looks at Tessa as if doubting whether he can be frank in his words, since in essence Tessa is still his boss and he should not contradict her (why does the reflection of his eyes in her spacesuit look funny to me lol)

he says this in a determined voice, while frowning. the words “we're not gonna hurt you” are addressed to Uzi while N’s gaze and gestures are interpreted as “WE'RE not gonna hurt HER” (while pointing his hand at Uzi) and this is addressing to Tessa. he clearly expresses his position and does not intend to obey Tessa in this in fact (he is rebelling)

with this "Okay?" he tries to reassure Uzi that they really won't hurt her honestly, the tone of voice with which he said it reminded me a lot of the way he said "we'll ask Tessa, okay?" in ep5, when he addressed Cyn. in both cases, his "Okay?" sounds sincere, kind, letting them know that he will keep his promise

she is scared and barely audibly says it, losing more trust in them while the fear grows

Uzi is nervous, she loses control and creates a null, everyone moves back, by the way Tessa takes out her sword

they repel each other. despite the falling stones, N reaches out to take her hand and pull her towards him

he takes a step forward, "we'll figure this out, together?.." but she steps back, losing trust in him

stones fall and block the passage, separating them from each other she closes herself off from him in every sense

when he woke up, he immediately called her and it sounded quite desperate and creepy cuz of the echo

N sees that his hand is crushed by stones. with a cold look, he takes out the blade and approache it to the hand, saying that he "deserved this", since he offended Uzi and believes that it would be right if he was punished for it. she experienced pain - he will experience pain, justice

#NUZI ANGST GOD DAMMIT #murder drones #murder drones ep 7 #uzi doorman #serial designation n #nuzi #biscuit bites #evele stuff #my kooky rambling

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wannab-urs · 5 months

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Title: Crawling Back to You

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: After some particularly awful shit goes down, Javi distances himself from you. But he always comes crawling back.

Tags: Angst, smut, more angst, reference to s2e3 events w Carillo, Javi sleeps with Gabriela (that’s the one from S2E3 y’all), sad!Javi, self hating!Javi, references to blood, wounds, rot, etc, all metaphorical, drinking/alcohol, as always: excessive cursing, me trying to speak spanish (translations provided), arguing, manhandling, dry humping, fingering, oral f receiving, face riding but while lying down, hair pulling, actual riding, Javi very briefly picks you up, that one position from s1e2, unprotected PiV, creampie, Javi crying, Javi yelling, reader yelling, did I mention angst? WC: 2130

A/N: I'm sorry? And thanks to the HBH for beta reading <3

Series Masterlist | Javier Peña Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

Crawling back to you Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do

Javi has avoided you for two weeks now. He got himself involved in some truly fucked up shit with Carillo and couldn’t bear to face you after that. He couldn’t let you see him like that – completely ashamed of himself, broken. He went to Gabriela instead. He knew she wouldn’t ask too many questions, that she would let him take out his anger and helplessness and shame on her.

When he got home that night he still almost called you, just to hear your voice. You calm something inside him, something dark and violent. But it feels like a sin to expose you to it in the first place. He’s terrified of letting you in. Sure, he’s afraid of getting hurt. Afraid of giving his heart to you and possibly watching you crush it in your hands. But what he’s really scared of is letting you get close enough to see the blood in his teeth, to smell the rot in his chest. Afraid his darkness will infect you, ruin the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. He is a bad man and you are so so good. You deserve better than him.

And yet he can’t truly let you go. Just another reason he doesn’t deserve you. He’s selfish enough to keep going back to you, to keep knocking on your apartment door and burying his pain in your body, only to tuck tail and run the second you push him for more. Most selfish of all is how much he wants more with you. Wants to come home to you every day. To cook dinner with you, to share a bed with you, to share his life with you. He wants everything you want and more and he’s terrified and horrified at the prospect.

You haven’t called him. Maybe you finally listened to him. Finally accepted he’s not what you want or need. Do you think about calling him? Maybe after a bottle of wine, listening to your maudlin records and relaxing on your couch. Do you drink yourself into a stupor before you can make that mistake like he does?

He dreams about you, about your body wrapped tightly around his, your nails dragging down his back so sharply it snaps him awake. He finds his whiskey glass turned over and spilled on his couch. His back aches from falling asleep sitting up. He eyes the phone.

Fuck calling.

Javi stares at the brass numbers on your apartment door. What the fuck is he doing here? He just can’t leave well enough alone. He pounds on the door until you answer.

“No.” You slam the door closed.

He bangs on the door again, fist pausing mid-air as the door swings open.

“You can’t just come crawling back to me when you get tired of your whores, Javi.” You look beautiful. Standing in your doorway in one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. Righteous anger puts a fire in your eyes, gives a hard set to your jaw.

“No es así y tú lo sabes.” (It’s not like that and you know it).” Javi steps closer to you, you don’t step back. “Me haces falta. (I miss you). Let me in.”

“Oh you fucking miss me? It’s been two weeks. Y no llamaste. (and you didn’t call).” You didn’t call him either, but that’s not the point. You didn’t show up at his apartment.

“Sé, lo siento. (I know, I’m sorry).”

“No. No lo eres. Déjame en paz.” (No. You’re not. Leave me alone.).

“No puedo. You know I can’t.” Javi looks defeated, run down. You know he needs you. Despite the advice of everyone you know and your own better judgment, you step aside and let him in. “Gracias, cariño.” And he sounds so relieved, you almost feel bad for keeping him out, for not calling him. Almost.

He closes the door behind him and you stalk off to the kitchen, still not quite ready to face him. You pour yourself a glass of whiskey and shoot it, wincing a little at the burn, before grabbing another glass and pouring one for each of you. You set both on the coffee table and sit on the couch, folding your legs beneath you.

“Why are you here, Javi?” He’d asked himself as much.

He picks his glass up off the table and sits on the couch next to you. You watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “I need you. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“Start with why you disappeared.”

“Classified.”

“Bullshit.”

Javi sets his glass down and manhandles you into his lap. He crashes his mouth into yours and at first you don’t even respond to his touch, but it doesn’t take long to fall into him. You can’t deny that you’ve been miserable without him. Craving his touch, missing him so much it hurts. He’s like an itch you can never scratch enough to satisfy. A festering wound that won’t ever heal. So you may as well pick at the scab.

Javi pulls your crotch flush with his. He’s already hard against you. You bury your hands in his too-long hair where it curls at the nape and lose yourself in him. You grind down on him and he thrusts up against you, the denim of his jeans and hard line of his cock creating delicious friction even through your panties.

He breaks the kiss, dragging his lips up your jaw, and whispers in your ear, “Can you come for me like this?” You don’t answer him, simply grind down on him harder, faster, nearly rubbing your thighs raw on his jeans. He peels his t-shirt off your body, throws it behind the couch, and immediately sucks a nipple between his plush lips. He bites down and it sends a jolt straight through your core.

“Fuck, Javi. More, baby. More,” you whine. He grabs your hips and drags you along his clothed length hard and fast. You feel your core tighten around nothing, and a keening moan falls from your lips as you come.

You don’t even have time to catch your breath before he’s thrown you onto the couch. He drags your ruined underwear down your legs, tossing them over his shoulder, and buries his face between your thighs. He sucks your clit into his mouth and pushes two fingers inside you, pumping slowly and rolling your clit gently between his teeth.

You arch up into him, and instead of pinning you down like he often does, he lets you grind your pussy on his face. The hard ridge of his nose, the rough drag of his mustache, the plush softness of his lips, so many different sensations hitting you as his fingers plunge into your cunt, curling into your g-spot over and over. It’s completely and utterly overwhelming. You fist his hair and hold him tight to you as you ride his face, and he moans into your cunt. He fucking loves it when you let go like this, unabashed moans filling the room, probably filling the whole apartment complex.

You fall apart again, like this, hips stuttering to a stop as you squeeze his fingers so hard it almost hurts. Javi peers up at your blissed out face, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, takes in just how beautiful you are. He drags his tongue through your slick one more time before hovering over you and licking into your mouth.

You suck your own slick off his tongue, licking into his mouth as you feel him shove his jeans down enough to free his cock. He pulls back, sits on the couch and drags you into his lap. You straddle him and he helps you line up before grabbing your hips and pulling you down on him.

You collapse forward, the feeling of him inside you is like being split apart and it would probably hurt if you weren’t so wet. He grabs your hair and pulls backward until your back is arched. “Montarme, cariño.” (Ride me, baby). You start moving your hips, slowly picking up in speed until you’re bouncing on his cock so hard and fast you can barely catch your breath.

He hitches your thighs around his waist and wraps his arm around your back, dropping you on the couch. He shoves his jeans down, stepping out of them, and drops one knee to the couch. He pulls you into his lap, wrapping your legs around his hips. You cling to his shoulders with your left arm and drop your other one behind you for leverage, rolling your hips into his. He meets you with his own thrusts, holding your body to his and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

He’s so close, you’re so tangled up in each other, he’s so fucking deep inside you, barely even pulling out before rolling back up into you. You fall back onto the couch and he follows, still holding you in his arms as he fucks you. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, rolling over your body and giving you chills as your cunt flutters around his cock.

He comes with you, fully collapsing down onto you. You should feel crushed under his weight, but it’s comforting. He holds you so tightly it’s like he’s afraid to let go of you. Afraid that when this moment is over you’ll kick him out and he’ll be alone again. Afraid this is the last time he’ll ever get to touch you.

You pet his hair gently, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. It’s late. You’re so fucked out you feel high and maybe the whiskey is loosening your tongue a little.

“I don’t understand, Javi. If it feels like this, why won’t you love me? What more could you want from me? What am I missing that you need?” This is going to ruin everything.

Javi pushes up on his elbows to look you in the eye. “Cariño. It’s not you–”

“I swear to God, Javi, if you use that line on me I will burn your apartment down with you in it.”

“You don’t understand. You won’t understand. I’m not good. I’m only going to get you hurt or killed.”

“You already are hurting me, Javi,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him back down to you.

He’s silent for a long time before he half whispers into your shoulder, “I’m just so afraid.” His voice breaks and you feel a tear land on your skin. You stroke his hair, drag your fingers along his heated skin.

“I know you, Javi. I know who you are and I don’t care. I think about you all the time. All the fucking time. I can’t stop thinking about you no matter how hard I fucking try. It’s torture.”

Javi shoves himself away from you, standing and grabbing his jeans off the floor.“That’s my fucking point!” You flinch at his volume. He pulls his jeans on, grabs his boots and crams his feet into them, already heading to the door. He turns around. “I am only ever going to hurt you. I am a bad fucking person. I hurt people on purpose and you are not immune from that just because I care about you or because I love you.”

You stand and try to take his face in your hands but he grabs your arms and holds you away from him. “I’d let you crack open my chest, rib by rib, while I watched if it meant I could have you. If it meant you’d be mine. Stop running away from me! I’m begging you!” You’re sobbing, yelling, pleading with him to just listen.

Javi looks at you, brow furrowed, big brown eyes shiny and bloodshot with tears. He lets go of you and steps away slowly, putting distance between the two of you. His mouth opens as if he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. He drops his head and closes his eyes, takes a shaky breath, and walks out the door.

He knows he will come crawling back to you, tomorrow or a week from now, he can’t ever stay away. But maybe this time the wound will be too raw. He will have hurt you too much, and you will shut him out. He fucking hates it, hates the thought of being without you, hates the way it feels like he’s clawing out his own organs hurting you like this. But this hurt is so much less than what he would do to you given enough time. This wound will scab over, form an angry scar, he will have left his mark on you. But you will heal.

dividers by @saradika

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denpamen · 3 months

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Dolph Laserhawk’s body language in episode 3 and why it’s actually really interesting:

To start, I want to point something out. I’ve seen the scene between Dolph and Alex construed as romantic, or Dolph considering reconsidering getting back with Alex, but I cannot help but believe that Dolph is in fact, absolutely terrified.

This glossy, wide-eyed look is not the look we got from Dolph in episode one when he was feeling romantic, content, and relaxed. When this happens, his face, eyebrows, and eyes are Relaxed.

In fact, we only see him make this face in episode 3 and only ever in the presence of Alex after Jades death in episode three. He is even frozen enough to give Alex time to lean in and kiss him. And you might be asking, who cares, he’s scared of Alex? So what?

Well, there’s a multitude of reasons why Dolph’s body language matters so much. But the first thing my mind immediately goes to is the difference before and after Jade’s death. How does he react around Alex before Jade’s death? Well it’s simple, tunnel vision around revenge just gives him anger, nothing else, no fear, no sadness, just anger. He doesn’t care about anything else at this point.

This shift, especially following the scene where Dolph looks at Jade’s blood on his hands (pointed out by another user, I’d link the post but I can’t find it.), shows an incredibly important shift in Dolph’s character. Not just that he starts to give a damn, but this forces him to look inward. He was raised to be a cog in the machine, nothing but a crutch to Eden’s or Alex’s plans, nothing he did ever mattered or changed his inevitable fate, and it still doesn’t, but it changed others’. His callousness and inconsiderate actions killed Jade. This is the first time he’s been hurtful and cruel without there being a puppet master, this is the first time where instead of being helpless, he realizes he can hurt people with just his words and actions and not his gun.

He’s afraid. He starts to care.

This starts the chain of events that makes Dolph care enough to break out of the VR and save bullfrog, on top of being genuine to Sarah, even touching her shoulder (wow!). The change in his eyes, all by themselves, represent this change.

However, there is something much much deeper I’d like to talk about. Something that I actually haven’t seen pointed out. One that is integral to Dolph himself, rather than the overarching plot.

Why is Dolph so scared of Alex? Genuinely, why? He’s so much stronger than Alex, they aren’t dating anymore, why is this a fear we only ever see in his eyes when he sees Alex? I mean we’ve seen Dolph scared before, but it’s not the same at all if you ask me.

When he looks scared in those scenes in episode 3, it’s in a way that makes him look almost, small. Why?

Because what Alex did to Dolph, all of it, is unique to Alex. What we are seeing isn’t just fear, the reason he shrinks away from Alex’s touch, the reason he gets that specific look in his eyes isn’t just fear. It’s trauma. It’s that traumatized boy who was taken away at a young age inside of him, it is not a grown man who’s afraid of pain and death, it’s a boy who’s scared of being lied to and having his feelings hurt again. This is something really, only Alex could ever bring back out. The fear after Jade’s death only just cracks his shell.

I think this stems from the unique dynamic of someone who’s been manipulated and emotionally abused and the perpetrator. When one is abused, especially in the ways Dolph was, even when there is no possibility of being hurt and abused again, the fear lingers, not of the abuse but the memory to be relived. The look of their eyes and the feeling of their hands is world ending, it guts you inside and out in a much worse way than dying ever could. (Especially since Dolph tries to get hit with a missile right after this). Dolph is terrified because every time he has to look in Alex’s eyes, he has to relive it. No pain or threat of death can recreate the raw emotion around years of lies and manipulation.

Listen, I know Dolph leaves a lot to be desired in terms of background story and writing, but I think the way his character shows trauma is mind blowing. It is very subtle, in a releastic hurtful way. Seeing Dolph Laserhawk, who’s not even scared of death, shrink in terror at the touch of someone who hurt him, is a good parallel to how many people would genuinely rather die than go through it again. Dolph touched my soul a lot, and the body language in this episode was beautifully woven to tell his story. I hope we get more of this in season 2. (God forbid I even discuss episode 4.)

#chey speaks #captain laserhawk #dolph laserhawk #clhabdr #clh #clh dolph #character analysis

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thefiery-phoenix · 1 month

Note

Hello! Is it ok if I request Yandere headcanons for Gitae kim? It’s ok if you’re not ok with it! Also just wanted to say that I really love all your Yandere content!

YANDERE GITAE KIM HEADCANONS

Freaking hell, he creeps me TF out but why does he look so good, it's just unfair

Please, for the sake of your own sanity, RUN. Just RUN. That's it. Or at least, run as much as you can since he'll end up finding you anyway since he's the leader of a freaking Cartel and the son of Gapryong Kim after all and is a complete sadistic beast in the form of a man. It's rare that he would ever develop feelings for someone and even if he does, he'll be too egoistic and arrogant and proud to admit it, he'll treat you more like a pet of some sort to be precise. But you're HIS little pet, that he loves in his own dark twisted way. It doesn't matter how you meet this deranged flesh eating cannibal here, the second he sets his eyes on you and his mouth curves upwards into a smirk, that's when you're a goner and you might as well just kiss goodbye to your life and freedom

It was a usual day for you and you were walking back to your house after a long tiring day. You put on some earphones and walked down the alleyway, humming to your favorite tunes feeling the cool breeze against your skin. You tried to ignore the men lurking in the alleyway with beer bottles and cigarettes strewn on the ground as they looked drunk and intoxicated while their lecherous gazes landed on you, leering at you and making all sorts of lewd perverse comments about your body that made your skin crawl. You put your head down and didn't want to get into some kind of confrontation which was the last thing you wanted, when one of them ended up grabbing you by your wrist and you screeched on top of your lungs and thrashed around for all you were worth, pleading with them to let you go as tears streamed down your cheeks and your neatly combed hair was now frizzled and became unkempt with a few of your hair strands falling into your face. One of the men ended up striking you hard across your face as you whimpered in pain and clutched at your now stinging cheek and trembled. Before one of them was about to tear off your shirt, in the blink of an eye, the man's hand was now on the ground leaking crimson as the man screamed in agony and fear and you felt your heart stop beating when your gaze landed on a raven haired guy with blood splattered across his well toned muscular chest and had a black leather jacket with a cruel smile etched on his face as he watched the man fall to the ground, whimpering at the sight of his severed hand

What the man did next would remain ingrained into your memory forever. The stranger with the axe swung his axe around and the head of the man who'd been tormenting you now lay on the ground, his crimson blood painting the gravel of the ground crimson as he cut off a chunk of his flesh and bit into it and tore through the meat like an apex predator. At this point you didn't know if you were safe even after being supposedly saved by this man in front of you as his eyes landed on your whimpering and trembling figure and he smirked sadistically. "Relax little girl, I'm not going to eat you...unless you want me to'' he spoke as his eyes surveyed across your features. You reminded him of a scared vulnerable little prey, a weak little lamb that he could take advantage of and the mere thought of it just excited him as his eyes glinted with malice. Before he could even say something else, your fear consumed you and you ended up blacking out and losing your consciousness. You were about to pummel straight to the ground before he grabbed you by your waist and held you in his arms as he let out a soft chuckle, amused that you fell for him already which did give him a bit of an ego boost

You were so weak, so helpless and so fragile like a little doll that he would love to have in his grasp. He wonders how you'd react if you'd see him in his full glory while he beats up people and murders them on a usual day, you wouldn't even last a second without trembling and crying like the helpless little lamb that you were, which was cute in his opinion. "Looks like I'm takin' you home, eh?'' he said as he hoisted you over his shoulders like a sack of flour and fished out your ID to find your address and made his way to your house. You were quite surprised when you woke up the next day in your own bed and you felt your head was slightly groggy as you massaged your temples and sighed to yourself, secretly glad you were away from that cannibal. You made your way into the living room only to find the same guy napping on your couch, with blood still splattered over his chest as your eyes widened and your face paled and you let out a shrill screech of bloody murder. "Damn it woman...can't even let me nap after I saved you...'' grumbled the guy as he looked at you and his eyes narrowed slightly. He enjoyed watching you squirm and fidget nervously, he could see you were torn between trying to be a good host and thanking him for saving you yesterday to contemplating passing out again. "You know...I expect some sort of thanks from you little girl'' he said as he got up from your couch and strode over to you, his massive frame towering over your body as you gulped nervously

"I-I could give you money if you want...please don't kill me'' you whimpered. "Silly naive girl, who said I wanted your money...you're interesting...I'm keeping you with me'' he said with a smirk. You tried to make a run for it when he grabbed your hands and pinned your arms above your head and cooed at you condescendingly, "Well now that's just rude isn't it? You should thank your savior properly. Now don't make this hard for both of us...be a good little girl for your savior, would you?" he asked as he patted your cheek a few times and caressed your cheek as he lifted you in his arms yet again and you let out a nervous squeak. "Don't you think you should get to know me or something before you literally kidnap me?" you asked him as he looked at you with an amused smile on his face. "Plenty of time to do all that get to know you crap. I'm Gitae by the way since you're so insistent on introductions and crap and this isn't a kidnapping...I'm taking what's mine'' he said as he carried you out of your house

What he wants, he gets. That's it. He wasn't going to waste a single second without taking you back with him, of course, he could have kidnapped you in the night but the element of surprise was what made things more interesting for him. Your cute little reactions to whatever he did riled him up so much. No way was he going to let you go now. The next thing you knew, you were sitting in a black car with him next to you and a few other people who had tattoos as you couldn't believe what you'd gotten yourself into. You silently let tears stream down your face and you looked out the window. Gitae wrapped a black jacket around you since you were still in your night clothes as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer to him. Don't get fooled by his actions though, he's as unpredictable as the weather

If you thought Samuel or Eugene were messed up psychopaths, allow me to introduce you all to the poster boy of being a RED BANNER. He's obsessive, manipulative and won't hesitate to literally gaslight you. While he won't physically hurt you, the same cannot be said to those around you unfortunately. He wants your attention on him, he wants you to cling to his arm like the helpless little doll that you are and look at him with those wide eyes of yours, being all pliant and dependent on him. Whenever you squirm when he touches you he just finds it so amusing and cute, he can't help but put you on his lap when he has his meetings with the men from his cartel while you have a pink collar around you pretty little neck that has HIS name on it so people will know you belong to him. As if those love bites and hickeys on your neck, thighs and arms aren't a testament of you being his. He likes marking you wherever he can, you're his property, HIS doll. Of course, anyone who looks at you for a moment too long or if their gaze wanders to a certain part of your body that belongs to him, he's just going to gouge their eyes out like knife cutting through a slab of butter. And then he'd kiss you on your soft kissable lips possessively and aggressively like a dying man needing air, running his hands over your body till you're literally gasping for breath, in front of everyone else to show those losers that they won't ever be able to have you as their minds are now ingrained with the dire consequences of laying their eyes on Gitae Kim's girl

Whatever hopes you have of escaping from him, it's best to get it out of your mind before he ends up killing and eating one of your dear loved ones right in front of you. You're his little pet, he won't tolerate any form of disobedience from you and he'll tell you how it's your fault they're dead and it's all because you dared to leave him. Your punishment is getting handcuffed to the bed till you're allowed to walk. It's best to just accept his advances towards you because there is no escaping from this deranged psycho at all...

#yandere gitae kim #yandere gitae kim x reader #yandere gitae kim scenarios #yandere gitae kim oneshots #yandere gitae kim headcanons #yandere gitae kim x reader scenarios #yandere lookism x reader #yandere lookism characters x reader #yandere lookism characters #yandere lookism #dark lookism characters x reader #dark lookism characters #dark lookism x reader #dark lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism

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not-magdi · 8 months

Text

●Injured ●

Summary: Pablo trying to care for his stubborn and hurt girlfriend.

Warnings: none

Words: 897

A/N

I don't like it, I don't know why but I don't like it somehow

You broke your ankle while trying to switch a lightbulb a few days ago. After being too proud to ask your boyfriend Pablo for help, the uninventive happened, and you fell.

Hearing your scream and seeing you lay on the floor scared Pablo shitless.

And after it was clear that you would have to go to the hospital, it was over for Pablo. The whole way there, he couldn't stop fussing about you, asking if you were in pain every five seconds, holding your hand, and so on.

You found it adorable how much he cared about you. He made sure you were sitting comfortably and didn't let you lift a finger if he was in reach.

But as much as you loved to be taken care of, it slowly started to annoy you. You were never the type of person to sit still for long periods, so having everything done for you began to drive you mad.

So currently, you're using the chance of Pablo being upstairs to sneak into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. But hearing him come down the stairs makes you panic.

"Amor, where are you?"

"Kitchen!" you answer, signing in defeat.

"Cariño, what are you doing here? I could have gotten it for you."

Taking the glass of water from you, he shoos you back to the couch. You roll your eyes, which does not go unnoticed by Pablo and limp back to the living room.

Coming back from the kitchen, Pablo finds you sitting on the couch with an annoyed look on your face.

"Que pasa amor? Are you in any pain?"

"No. Pablo, I'm fine ok?!"

You regret your harsh tone immediately, not wanting to snap at him. You want to apologise immediately, but Pablo beats you to it.

"I'm sorry that I care for you!"

After that, he rushes off, leaving you alone with guilt, eating you up. After you hear the door upstairs slam shut.

You know that Pablo sometimes takes things more personally than he should. So you try to be careful when it comes to things like that. But today, your temper got the best of you.

Upstairs, Pablo sits in his office chair, slightly offended about how you talked to him. He just wanted to make sure that you are ok.

Seeing you lay on the floor so helpless and in pain, changed something in him. He never ever wants to see you like that again. So he does everything in his power to keep you safe.

The two of you give each other a silent treatment for hours, too stubborn to be the first to give in. You tried to manage to make yourself food on your own. Which turned out to be more difficult than you thought it would.

You somehow managed it, but after cleaning everything up and sitting down again, you felt how cramped your muscles were.

You became a treatment to smear on your sore muscles to prevent them from cramping. The problem is that you can't put it on on your own because you can't reach under your cast that well.

Normally. Pablo always puts it on you before bed so you can sleep in peace, but that won't be an option today.

After sitting on the couch for a bit, you slowly realise how much you actually depend on Pablo.

Feeling even more guilty than before, you make your way upstairs. Wanting to apologise to Pablo for your unfair behaviour towards him.

Challenging yourself up the stairs, you hear noises coming from Pablo's office. Softly knocking on his door, you slowly open it and step into the room.

Hearing the door open and close, Pablo turns around only to see you standing there with a guilty look.

He really wanted to stay mad at you, but seeing you look at him like a kicked puppy made it hard for him.

"You need something?"

Him not using any nicknames hit you harder than you thought it would. He always uses nicknames, so hearing none hurt a lot.

Looking to the ground, you try to find the right words.

"Uhm, I-I wanted to say sorry f-for earlier. I didn't mean to snap at you, you only wanted to help me. I was annoyed that I have to rest so much, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry."

Pablo's frown softens as he hears you apologise. Now feeling guilty too, he rushes to stand up and wrap his arms around you.

"M'sorry too. I was just so scared when I found you. I wanted to protect you and didn't realise that I was crushing you with my carefulness, Amor," he mumbles into your neck.

The two of you stand in the office for a while, until Pablo hears you hiss as one of your muscles starts to cramp again.

Looking at his phone, he gasps as he realises how late it already is.

"Oh no, we need to put your lotion on. Come on, amor you lay down, I'm coming in a second."

Laying down on your bed, you wait for Pablo to come back. He comes back, seconds later and starts to put the cream on you.

After he was done, he cuddled himself next to you and pulled you onto his chest. Both of you, enjoying each other's warm embrace in a comfortable silence.

#pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi oneshot #pablo gavi x you #gavi x reader #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi #gavi x you

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leighsartworks216 · 8 months

Text

To Ease Your Burden

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

For you @tripleyeeet my beloved <333

Little disclaimer that I do not suffer from chronic pain so some of these pain descriptions may not be accurate to what it's really like

Warnings: chronic pain

Word Count: 730

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AO3

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You’d felt it when you awoke that morning - pain swelling in your joints, like someone had taken a red-hot fire poker and decided to have some fun. You couldn’t hope to continue your journey, not when standing made you dizzy and standing for even a second too long collapsed your knees. No, it was better to stay here and wait it out.

You warned your companions that “waiting it out” could mean days, even weeks, of waiting for your pain to fade enough. They brushed off your concerns for the most part. As you rested, some of them would head out and gather supplies and clear the area of monsters or unsavory types. If the pain worsened come tomorrow, you’d continue to wait here. If it was manageable enough, Halsin or Karlach could carry you to the next campsite. Delays like this meant higher tensions and concerns regarding the tadpoles, but they couldn’t remove them without you.

Astarion “elected” to keep you company while you rested. He stayed by your side, fetching anything you needed with a long sigh or a groan and a dramatic complaint, but he never meant it.

He laid beside you, one hand keeping his book open and the other rested, palm up, in between you. Your hand sat softly on top. The pressure of his hand on top had been too much; this was the best way he could find to keep touching you without hurting you. He read aloud, his voice a soothing balm to your agony. Each character had their own voice - usually an impression of one of your camp-mates. You think he must enjoy mimicking them, or maybe he just likes the way you smile when he goes off-script to make fun of them. (Gale got it the worst.)

You press your hand further into his, trying to be careful so your joints don’t scream at you. He quietens immediately, turning to see if you needed anything. When he got like this, all soft and gentle, his eyes became round and wide, attentive and affectionate. You smiled weakly at him. “Thank you.”

His eyes sharpen again as he smiles. “I’m all too happy to help, my dear.”

“You don’t have to stay…” His brow pinches. “You’re free to go out with the others, explore.”

“If you want time alone, I can leave,” he starts, but you cut him off before that light in his eyes can dim, shadowed by rejection.

“No! No, I like having you here.” You run your thumb alongside his. You can feel his hand twitch, unused to being so close to yours without being able to truly hold it. “I just don’t want you to think you have to stay for my sake.”

His eyes flicker over your face for a moment. Truthfully, he couldn’t bear to see you in so much pain. When you tried standing this morning, you fell to the ground, crying in agony. He’d never felt so awful watching someone else suffer. The worst part was how helpless he felt to stop it. You were writhing in pain, and he couldn’t even touch you for fear of making it worse.

“I want this,” he whispers. “I want to help however I can. Anything to ease your burden.”

He shifts his hand carefully out from under yours so he can prop himself up on his elbow and hover over you. With a barely-there brush of lips, he kisses your forehead. He’s scared to hurt you, especially with something as caring as a kiss. He pulled away to meet your eyes. His were warm with fondness.

“You don’t have to suffer this alone.”

Tears well in the corner of your eyes, heart aching from unbridled joy and love - it wants to burst from you and wrap him up in a hug. You would have, too, if you were certain moving your arms wouldn’t burn like all the fire of the Hells in your body. You thank him again, but it comes out choked up and shaky. He smiles, wrinkles accentuating his mouth as he does.

He pressed another faint kiss to your head. “You’re very welcome, my love.” He lays back down and offers his hand once more as he holds the book up. “Now, come on, it’s just started getting good. I simply must know if Madame Triouse discovers her husband’s affair with the butcher.”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @httyd-chocolate @bloopthebat @chesb0red

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radiant-reid · 2 years

Text

Three

A/n: I didn't include 13x01 even though it happens right after, just because i wanted this more focused on the characters than the plot so that's why it's not here.

request (simplified): spencer and reader had started dating before everything went down and when he is taken to prison she finds out she's pregnant. The only person that knows is Emily and she doesn't want to tell spencer because it would just cause him pain to be locked inside. By the time he gets out, she already has a bump but he assumes she moved on with someone else. Once it is over she asks him to talk, he tries to tell her he understands and that he is happy for her so that's when she's like "spence, it's yours".

Summary: Three wishes, three requests, three things to say, and three people

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (angst then fluff)

Content Warning: pregnancy, prison arc, maeve arc

Word Count: 3.1k

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From the moment Y/n found out that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico, her life had been Hell.

There was irrational anger initially, wondering why he hadn't told her about the times he left the country on his personal passport while they were spending nights together in her apartment. Then sadness that he didn't trust her enough despite their regular morning coffee dates.

And then fear.

And with fear: helplessness.

Because despite the love she had for him making her feel like her whole world was complete, it became increasingly apparent that there was nothing she could do to help him.

She can barely stand looking at him- for her own self-preservation- when he comes into the BAU after a lengthy legal battle with the Mexican police, and calling in potentially every favor they're owed.

It was the most stressed Y/n has been in her entire life, and she knows she has to do something to alleviate it. Unfortunately, halving the problem means sharing the problem, and she finds herself walking up the steps to Emily's office as soon as she's in instead of being by Spencer's side.

"Y/n, hi." Emily ushers her in, walking away from her desk and sitting on the couch. The look on Y/n's face tells Emily she needs a friend, not a boss. "I've been meaning to ask how you are."

Y/n picks up on the careful phrasing. Emily's not teasing them for the relationship she suspects exists. She's worried about her friend and not wanting to push her too far.

Y/n doesn't know how to say it. Emily has been his friend for almost a decade, through a faked death, reunion, and years spent apart.

So she blurts it out. "We're in a relationship, and I'm pregnant."

Emily can't control the surprise in her facial expression, eyebrows raising and jaw-dropping. She had really only considered Y/n would tell her they were dating, that she was scared for Spencer's well-being because he was more than a friend, not that she was scared of his well-being because he's a soon-to-be father.

Emily reaches out to touch her hand, squeezing it softly to comfort her. "Does he know?" She asks, even though she thinks she knows the answer.

Spencer would have mentioned it. There was nothing more he wanted than to be a father. They had discussed it after Henry was born, when he turned 30, during JJ's wedding, when she saw the team after Morgan left, and when she came back after Hotch left.

"No." Y/n answers, lightly crying. She wasn't sure if it was the pregnancy hormones or the fact her baby daddy was in prison.

"It will be okay," Emily assures her, wrapping Y/n in a hug. "I promise, we will get him out of there."

They both know she can't make that promise.

They both don't comment on it.

"I, uh- h-he said he needed to go to Houston for his mom." Y/n starts telling the story between tears and resultant hiccups. "And he called me that night, but I didn't pick up." That was something she'd been feeling guilty about, knowing that if she answered, they would have gotten one last conversation together. "So he left me a voicemail saying he'd be home the next day. I was busy putting a surprise box together for him. It's got the cutest onesie that says 'hi, daddy.'" Emily smiles with her, and it's only then that she realizes she's also crying. "I actually went a little overboard, so you all have carefully selected onesies waiting for you." She's smiling a little, trying to readjust her focus onto something happier. It's quickly spoilt. "And then we were back here."

"I'm so sorry," Emily says, hugging her again. "And I'm really happy for you, Y/n. You're going to be the best mom ever."

That makes Y/n chuckle slightly. "Don't let JJ hear you say that."

She shrugs with her own grin. "She'll get over it." She jokes. "Seriously, whatever you need, I am here for you. Anytime."

"You couldn't break my baby daddy out of jail, could you?" Y/n jokes so she doesn't break down again. Spencer told her she had a problem with that, but she's slipped back into old habits because that's what helps.

"We'll get him out," Emily assures her again. "And sweet baby L/n or Reid or L/n-Reid or Reid-L/n will have a very present dad."

"I hope he or she will have a very present godmother, too," Y/n says, confusing Emily. "Hopefully one who doesn't fake her death again..."

Emily understands that, and her surprise is happy that time. "It would be an honor. Also, I did attend an Ivy and Spencer didn't."

That makes her laugh through her tears again. "That was on my pros list." She jokes.

"You have to stay with me, though." Emily insists. She can't stomach the thought of her friend being alone, sad and pregnant. "Or I can stay with you."

Seeing her apartment has been difficult for Y/n. Every single inch of it reminds her of Spencer. "Yours." She requests. "And thank you. I appreciate it."

"Of course." Emily nods before her face changes to a more concerned expression. "What do you think about telling him?"

That question had been on her mind for a while. "How is he, Em? Honestly."

She picks at her fingernail and it's the response Y/n was desperately not hoping for. "He's not good." It's not a lie, but it is a drastic understatement.

"He can't know." She decides, and Emily breathes a silent sigh of relief at not having to talk her out of the decision to tell him. "But what about them?" She questions, nodding to the door.

"That doesn't have to be right now," Emily assures her. "Whenever you're ready."

Y/n tries to slow her rapidly beating heart and shallow breathing. Talking about it had not helped at all. "Okay." She says calmly. "Let's get to working getting him out of there."

They get to work every day, trying to get Spencer out while working their usual caseload. Y/n doesn't notice much of a difference in being pregnant besides all the stressing and then the stressing about stressing and what that's doing to the baby on top of it. And the increased fatigue. She wishes she had Spencer there every moment, and imagining his reaction is the only thing that helps her keep going.

When she starts showing, she has to tell everyone else, so Emily calls them into the briefing room.

"Is this about Spencer?" JJ asks, the concern on her face mirroring everyone else's when Emily and Y/n walk in.

"Sort of," Emily says, only confusing them more.

Y/n speaks softly as she breaks the news. "I'm pregnant, it's Spencer's, and he cannot know."

Their faces all change to unreadable expressions aside from Penelope who's trying to control her excitement. It's difficult to know if the right thing to do is to hug and congratulate her like they would have done in normal circumstances since Spencer's in jail, and it's clearly not an ideal situation.

"Congratulations," JJ says first, noticing Y/n's increasingly alarmed expression. She's also always known Spencer wanted to be a dad, and she gets up to hug her friend tightly.

Everyone follows after that, having a moment of delight in amongst the chaos of Spencer's arrest. They don't even bother to let money change hands on their bets if they were a couple. Rossi won, though, and he doesn't need the money.

Things get messier the longer Spencer is in prison. They all know he's struggling, and they all try and avoid telling Y/n, but she knows every time Emily steps out of the room to take a phone call that something has happened. And it's never something good.

After three long months of torture, Spencer's out. His final challenge is saving his mom and then getting the girl, but after all that he's been through, it doesn't seem insurmountable.

He hugs JJ, Luke, and Penelope at the prison, holding them for extra long to readjust to the feeling. He's too grateful to be out to be wishing Y/n was there. Every single freedom, he's going to be appreciative of.

Then there's the drive back to the BAU, a drive he's taken many, many times before. Penelope's as happy as she can be, all things considered, and chatty, telling him about all that he's missed. He knew how much he underestimated being able to call her up and hear something witty made his day better, so seeing her in person is incredible.

One key person she's leaving out is Y/n.

He's had a lot of time to think in prison. It's basically all he does, and when he's not thinking about how to survive or trying to remember the events of the motel room, he's thinking about her.

They weren't labeled when he went to Mexico. Somehow he had a way of falling in love without labels, but this time it wasn't going to end with her dead on a warehouse floor.

He's hoping his luck will come in threes when he wishes for his mom's safe return and for Y/n to be interested in him. She was before, she'd told him a million times, but he knows his whole world has changed, so all he can do is pray that they still sync.

"How is she?" Spencer asks when Penelope finishes complaining about how annoying Luke has been. He and JJ share a look in response to Luke's fond expression.

"She's..." Penelope's never been good at keeping secrets, but she would never cross the line with this. Not when it's not trivial gossip about the third-floor white-collar crime team. "You need to talk with her." She settles on an answer, approved by JJ and Luke's nods.

The pit of dread hits his stomach. It doesn't ever sound good when someone wants to talk. It's even worse when that person is your former or possibly still girlfriend.

It's when he sees her in the board room that he knows what Penelope means.

Y/n's pregnant.

Obviously pregnant.

And his heart plummets as fast as his stomach does.

Spencer's mouth goes dry in the search for something to say to her. There's nothing he can articulate as much as he wants to scream that he's in love with her. He cannot afford the time to ask her about it, and he cannot afford the heartbreak of learning she's already moved on, having someone else's baby.

He has been wishing he could go back in time for a while, but nothing like seeing her bump makes him furious he hasn't built a time machine. She's everything he ever wanted, and he longs to be everything she wants.

Then Cat is having his baby, and that is something he never expected to say, but the obsessive psychopath is taunting him with comments about his baby. He wants her to shut up, so he can close his eyes, touch her, and pretend it's his baby with Y/n. His paternal desire has never waved until he realizes he can't love the baby inside her, even if it is his when Y/n's also bringing a baby into the world.

Maybe she'll let him be an uncle, best case scenario a godfather. Still, that means he'll permanently have to be part of the guy who gets to live his dream life. He'll watch them raise the sweetest baby, babysit so they can go out on date nights, and maybe watch them get married. Every one of those thoughts jeprodizes the happiness he thought he could get back.

And he can't blame her for it. Who wants to wait for a convict? Maybe, he decides, she thought he was guilty, and even though he got released, there's no coming back from that.

He's forced to push it down and ignore all those dark feelings until this nightmare is over, which feels improbable. When his mom is recovered safely, he can finally breathe a sigh of relief at some of his problems being solved.

He stays with her until she falls asleep, guilt-ridden and assuring her she's safe. When she is asleep, there's a nagging urge in his brain to leave and go see Y/n. He just wants to congratulate her as a friend. Or that's what he tells himself. And it's most of the reason, but he wants to scout her boyfriend to make sure he's good enough for her.

"Hi." She says, opening the door and stepping to the side. "I was going to call you tomorrow. Well, technically today."

She's had the burning urge to touch him since she saw him but she resists, not knowing where they stand.

Spencer's not used to having his watch on his wrist, so he checks it. "Oh, it's late, I'm sorry. I can go." He offers, and it's more so he can avoid the discussion rather than her comfort.

Y/n shakes her head, sitting down on the couch. He notices how similar everything looks, like she's still the only one that lives there.

He looks awkward just standing there, next to the massive elephant they're ignoring, so she directs him next to her. "Sit, Spence, please."

Spencer wants to pace, it's become his way to relieve stress without anything to distract him, but he does what she says, wanting to please her as much as possible.

"How are you?" She asks, although it's a stupid question. Not only because he's clearly not well, but because he's going to tell her he's fine.

"I'm not mad at you," Spencer tells her, no longer able to suppress his thoughts. He's been running over what to say, but when he starts talking, any perfected speech is torn to shreds. She gives him a skeptical look, like she's questioning why he could be upset, and he feels even more like an idiot for assuming he's still allowed to feel things for her. "I came to say congratulations. I want you to be happy, and I'm so thrilled that you're having a baby. I understand why you couldn't be with me. It would have been selfish for me to ask you to wait. I'm glad you moved on, and being in your life, as a friend is all I can ask for." He stops before he runs out of breath which also helps him not say something stupid.

Y/n's still looking at him like he's an idiot, and she is kind of wondering if he is one, but her face changes when she understands the connections in his thoughts.

Two things stick in her head; Spencer doesn't think the baby is his, and he believes she could love someone else. Both are wildly untrue.

"Can you wait here?" She asks, her heart rate quickening a little now that she has to tell him what she thought was obvious.

Spencer nods apprehensively, anticipating her next move as bringing out her boyfriend to meet him. To his surprise, she comes out with a lilac box, shallower than a shoe box but with a bigger cross-sectional area.

She hands it to him with shaky hands, but the most significant indicator of her nervousness is how she's biting her bottom lip. It worries Spencer. Everything stresses him anyway, but over the past few months, when people are nervous, it means something alarming has happened.

So he tears his eyes away from her to open it cautiously. He could not have been more surprised by the content; a tiny onesie, miniature Converse, a giraffe toy, a positive pregnancy test, and an ultrasound picture.

"This is for you." She tells him.

He looks up at her, and she's crying, and he's crying, and it's a mess, but it is perfect.

"I'm going to be a dad?" He confirms, sobbing.

"You're going to be the best dad." She corrects, trying to wipe up her tears as his fingers trace over the words on the onesie delicately. "Spencer, I could never love anyone the way I love you, and I cannot imagine having a baby with anyone else."

"I thought you were with someone else." He admits bashfully.

She shakes her head, reaching out for his hand. She's missed touching him, feeling his soft skin in hers. "I'm in love with you." She reminds him, knowing he's going to need to hear it more than once.

"I'm in love with you, too," Spencer says, cupping her cheeks and gently kissing her. The kiss is slow and full of the longing they've had for months. He pulls back with the widest smile he's had for months. "Anything you need, Y/n, I'll do it. Are you eating? Vitamins? Water? Ultrasounds?"

Y/n giggles at how quickly he's moved to dad mode. "There's only three things I want." She tells him, earning a nod from a dedicated Spencer. "Firstly, no more impromptu trips to Mexico." She says it like a joke because they both know he'd never do that again. "And I want to live with you. I really don't want our baby to grow up in two different houses and I want you to see him or her every day."

"Yes." He agrees before divulging into rambling, excited words trying to keep up with how he's feeling. "My mom is going back to Las Vegas, so we can m we can live in my apartment or yours. Actually, we should just get a house. A proper house near good schools with a yard. I'll find some, but I really don't care where we live, as long as we're together."

"Slow down." She says, squeezing his hand. "We'll figure it all out." She assures him.

He nods, letting the best type of chaos continue in his head. "There's one more thing." He realizes.

"There is." She agrees, moving his hand until it touches her bump. "Feel our baby."

Spencer's crying again as he gets off the couch and kneels in front of her, pushing up her top and gently holding the developing bump. "Hi, sweet baby." He says softly. "I love you so much, your mom is a superhero, and I cannot wait to meet you." Those are the three most important things he can think to say.

It's impossible for Y/n not to cry when Spencer is so Spencer, and all the hormones inside her don't help. He gets up before leaning down to cup her cheeks and lead her into a kiss.

"You've made me the happiest I've ever been in my life." He tells her sincerely.

"Well, I kind of intend on doing that for a little while longer, if that's okay." She offers.

Spencer acts like he's considering it before landing on his answer. "Yeah, okay."

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suchagreatimetobealive · 3 months

Text

𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ~°•*'▪︎

Dazai Osamu x Reader

- Tw¡! Extremely toxic relationship, self-destructive behaviour, delirious behaviour, brief mentions of a past toxic relationship with a possessive partner, angst without comfort.

- You know Dazai since his mafia days, but he never indulged you into joining the activity. When finally he left the toxic environment behind, he tried to make the wall between you and him crumble. Sadly, it didn't last long.

- Very rushed, I'm sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes just felt inspirated, I need sleep tbh.

Dazai Osamu has always been defined as someone sadistic, enjoying the pain shine in his victims's eyes, while he bend them over and shots them from behind, after he just reassured them he would not. Not even shooting them on a vital organ; the shoulder, or the arm, so that they crumble on the ground, bloody, in agonising pain, tight grip against the wound in the desperate attempt to soothe the suffering.

He takes pain so rationally, so detached from any mental attachment from someone that It's natural to think he does feel the pain others feels; just not on an empathic basis. He feeds off of it, delighted by the way his enemies -especially the older men who thinks of him a kid- look at him with fear and terror as soon as they realise he's not a normal 15 years old who needs to screw off.

But the truth is that Dazai Osamu is a masochist. A huge, helpless masochist who has moments that really makes you scared. You are not even sure if you are scared of him, or for him. He has no intention to hurt you, you know it; but at one point, you are afraid of him.

Afraid he could harm you to self-destroy.

The day he begged you, on his knees, hopelessly sniffling and sobbing soundly, so pitifully it brought you to tears as well to tear off his limbs is the day you really started to feel the agony in your chest, the dread pooling in your chest, a sudden nauseating sensation ascending from your abdomen to your throat.

That's the day you realised how serious he's sick in the head. He never acted like that with you before, only implied jokes about the thematic, nothing serious. Or so you always thought.

A copy mechanism Dazai Osamu utilises also is, as mentioned earlier, self-destruction.

He would go as far as hurting you just to make you despise him, watch him with hate; he knows it would break his heart, he feels so frustrated when you look at him with worry, the aggravation in his pupils as he tears up even more, as if it's the worse thing that could have happened to him.

But as soon as that gaze appears even for a fleeting second, he's instantly on you, clinging on your side with his hands locked on your waist, head buried on his chest, loud thumping of his heart, restless as the panic rushes to his veins. Soft, trembling hands caressing your scalp as the fingers dig between your strands sweetly, soothingly as if to make you forget what just happened.

But everything that happen each passing night becomes so much, the overwhelming feeling of everything that each time happens, the weight of his words, you feel like you are losing your sanity staying with someone who already lost it a long while ago.

Because you can't fix him, you know. It's impossible to stay with him, he's so broken that instead of you making him feel better, he is slowly destroying you and also himself in the process.

You can't believe even if he looks you straight in the eyes that this whole relationship isn't hurting him.

You had problems with a possessive partner in the past, and that's been hell, so hard but at the end it went away, at the end you fought him, you broke free. But this?

How can you handle this?

How can you handle Dazai Osamu, if he can't even handle himself? You thought you knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to become his partner. Turns out you absolutely didn't. At all.

You can't take it anymore.

Trying to hold him together is making you lose yourself. Each day your anxiety becomes unbearable, your heart always beating so hard against your chest, in fear he could invite you to his apartment the evening. That only means you would witness one of his crisis, or even more than one.

Poor boy wakes up in the middle of the night with a loud gasp, sweat, tears and a raising panic attack as his restless brain registers that it's not real, your chest rising and falling softly, your calm breath seemingly to momentarily also soothe his racing thoughts.

Momentarily.

And that's how another sleepless night at his apartment happens, with you lulling him, keeping his head on your chest, scratching his scalp and giving some kisses here and there, a obsessive chant falling off his lips, same mumbles on loop as he sniffles silently, face wet in tears as whatever thoughts possess his brain.

But you can't break up with him.

This is different; your lover is toxic, but you can't leave him like this. He's suffering. He's suffering so much your heart ache so much every time you see him, but It's just too much.

Everything has become too much, to the point you can't look at him without trembling, panicking, crying and shaking and going into an internal panic.

And he knows, he sees how much this affected you, his selfishness hit again, he's such a cruel creature, isn't he?

Still the ruthless, heartless beast he was back in the mafia. He's hurting you; out of all people, the one who he's hurting is you.

The love of his life, the very reason he's still breathing, the only person who can make him feel safe. But you don't feel safe around him anymore.

You see him as a imminent danger, someone you have to run away from. There are no more goodmorning kisses, there are no more smiles coming your way as he enters the agency, there is nothing.

Not a kiss, not a hug, there's just.. terror.

The way your limbs hugs him like he's made of glass and could break at any touch, the way you curled your fingers around his cheeks with devotion in your eyes now replaced by fear.

Fear hidden behind an anxious smile, lips painfully pulled up in a fake smile every time he encounters your eyes.

And your mental health doesn't get missed by your cowokers; Kunikida often stops by to ask if everything is alright, you are so stiff and It's unusual from someone like you. Ranpo happen checks by as well, giving you subtle glances from the side of the room from time to time and giving you sweets, sometimes dragging you with him to catch some air outside.

He doesn't know if you talked to him, knowing him he already knows anyways. Dazai doesn't even want to focus about what Ranpo knows actually, or he wouldn't even show up in front of the agency door again, he swears.

It would be so shameful.

Atsushi often worries as well, acting similarly to Ranpo, but using more empathy than the older male does, gifting you cute stuff such as peluches, your favorite food, random things he asked to know if you like them or not. Everyone, in their every own way, tries to make you feel better, but nothing can really erase your problem.

And It's so painful, so heart-crashing knowing he is the problem.

And it is also for you, because you love him.

Loved him. At this point, you aren't even sure anymore if you are with him because you want to or because you are just concerned about how he would react if you break up with him.

What if he kills himself?

You would never forgive yourself if he would do that after your decision.

You really don't know what to do, each evening without him sending you on a spiral of desperation, agony and torturous paranoia that just doesn't shake off no matter what you do.

You can't live like this anymore.

"I..." your words struggle to leave your tongue, stuck like a block of ice you can't pull out, blocked between your teeth. It will take time for it to melt, but you don't have all the time of the world.

It's a now or never situation, you don't know when you will get all this courage again in the future. It's not like you hold much of it now anyways, but surely you feel braver than usual.

"...you want to break up with me, right" if it's supposed to be a question, it does not feel like one at all. Your eyes snaps on his, and you flinch.

For the first time in years, you flinch looking in the eyes of someone. Of a man.

The man you loved for years, Dazai Osamu, you don't even recognise him anymore.

You can't find him inside those pupils, the lost gone Osamu you knew didn't left a trace of himself behind.

"...yes" you grit your teeth, cursing yourself under your breath for how weak your voice sounds. Your eyes darts towards the ground, hands gripping each other behind your back, anxiety swallowing you whole, in a cage you can't escape from. That's what his gaze gives you; each time you lock eyes with him, there's no more love, there's no more devotion, no more affection.

You feel, indirectly, forced to stay with him. All because you are afraid.

"Okay" okay? You heard well?

You can't help yourself, your eyes snaps back towards his face; hollow eyes welcoming your surprised one. "...okay?" You speak again, as if to have the reassurance that you heard well.

He gives you a nod, stuff his hands on his coat, and his lips pull upwarbs. His expression is so empty, so void of any single emotion you feel like you are looking up at a corpse, dead with a smile on it's face.

It makes a shiver run down your spine, hands still scrutching themselves nervously behind your back subconsciously.

"You.. will do nothing?" You ask, voice barely a whisper as you don't look away. No matter how lifeless he looks right now, you don't want him to actually die.

But does he even have to keep living? And for what? Watch you find a man (or a woman) who deserves you, someone who deserves your love? His gaze fall on the ground slowly. "...depends on what you mean" his voice is rough, of course he can't hold his tears much longer, the restrain is about to fall off, he can feel his eyes burning so terribly. He would love to do it in your arms right now.

He wants to fall on his knees and scream his lungs out, so much pain not enough to yell out with a single shout.

"..please, don't kill yourself"

"What else?"

"What..?" You stop. You are sure you stopped breathing after his question, a confused frown composing in your worried expression.

"I mean," he speaks slowly "What else is there to be said? I don't have any proper answer to that. I.." his voice falter when he take a look at you "...I won't start again, please calm down.." tone breaking at the end of the sentence, every teardrop spilling from your eyes at the anticipation of yet another breakdown that's about to come feels like a knife stabbing his chest insistently.

What? What is he saying? He won't start anything? How is this somehow even worse than starting? You don't want him to die, you don't want him to kill himself. You just want him to see someone that is capable of helping him, It's impossible no one is able to fix Dazai Osamu. At least a little bit, even if the bare minimum. You don't want to weight the death of one of your best of lovers, the one man you trusted so blindly, who made you feel so loved and cherished. You will never thank him enough for those years, you will never regret them, but you don't want your entire mental health to be thrown away because of his.

Because all humans beings have to be selfish sometimes, to get out of it alive.

But Dazai Osamu feels like he's been too selfish, not asking you himself to break up, waiting you and hoping for something that's never to happen.

For what you know, that's the last time you ever see him again. He completely disappears from sight. The agency has no idea where he ended, if he killed himself somewhere and nobody found his body.

Just know that if Dazai Osamu doesn't want to be found, he will not get found.

Lurking in the shadows is something he does so well, disguising himself and becoming one with the darkness, forgotten by the light, acting as if he never reached it, not knowing what it is like, what it feels like to receive some love.

And that's exactly where Dazai Osamu rests; in the darkness, right where he came from.

Everybody said mafia blood just flows in his veins, and he doesn't even have the strength to deny that to himself anymore. He disappointed you, Odasaku up there must be so deeply disappointed already from how he turned out to be; he tried, he really did, but the mask can't be worn forever.

Dragging a scalpel on someone's throat has never been easier anyway.

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psychotic-nonsense · 29 days

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Steve Harrington doesn't expect today to be anything special.

His kid, Dustin, is out in the garage hanging out with his friend Lucas. It's a calm spring evening, and there isn't a single call coming from the phone asking for his services. The former handy man turned jack of all trades has a day off, and he's taking the chance to catch up on the fantasy book Dustin picked up for him on his last trip to the library.

He's older than he once thought he could be, he's alive, and he's happy.

He's mid sip of his sweet tea - recipe courtesy of the Byers family - when someone suddenly comes in through the front door. Mr. Harrington jumps, closes the book with a dog-eared page ("Terrible habits, sir, terrible terrible habits," says a voice from the past in his head). But then Dustin walks into view, and while he's not entirely calmed, he's less startled.

"Hey there, big guy," his starts calmly, but his mood quickly sombers when he gets a full look at his son. "Everything okay?"

Something's off. Dustin's coming in through the front door, not the back door that's easier to get to from the garage. Lucas isn't with him, and Mr. Harrington's old acoustic guitar is in his hands ("Be careful, love, you might end up as our backup," says the voice with a wink he can still see). But most importantly, Dustin looks nervous. Sad, even, and Mr. Harrington never lets that kind of face linger long in this household.

"Yeah, I'm okay, dad..." Dustin mumbles, pausing in the front hall, staring down at the guitar. His eyes look far away. "I was just wondering, um... you know that band group that I'm friends with?" Dustin looks up, directing all of that pain right at his father, stabbing at his heart.

"Yeah, your buddies on that forum, right?" Mr. Harrington says cautiously. He's leaning forward on his knees now, book discarded to a side table to give Dustin his full attention. "Were they telling you something? Is Lucas okay?"

"No, yeah, Lucas is fine, his mom called," Dustin quickly mutters, briefly distracting the nervous tension in his face with a shaking head. He takes a deep breath, releasing it in one big huff as he holds the guitar tighter. "So, you remember how I told you we were all helping each other? You know, learning how to write songs?"

"Yeah?" Mr. Harrington affirms, gently encouraging him to go on.

"Well, um..." Dustin looks away again, down at his feet shuffling in the carpet. "The- the lead singer of that band? Said he wanted some feedback on one, so uh..." His eyes glance at the guitar in his arms before meeting his father's eyes again.

Mr. Harrington huffs a small sigh of relief, a smile overtaking him. Nothing's wrong, it's just Dustin wanting to share a song with his dad, and he's nervous. Mr. Harrington has nothing to worry about ("A one man crowd? Gotta make this really memorable then," says the voice, teasing words but a soft, scared, nervous tone). "Yeah yeah, of course, kid, I'd be honored."

But then why is Dustin still so tense when he nods? Why are his eyes still so sad when he sits on the couch opposite Mr. Harrington, while he tunes the guitar? Why does he keep looking at the empty space beside him, growing more anxious each time?

"Take your time buddy, it's okay," Mr. Harrington tries to reassure, but Dustin doesn't look up.

Instead he sits there, breathing deeply a few times. Looks over at the other end of the couch, blinks a few times before nodding to himself, turning back. His left hand runs over the frets a few times, other hand coming up to rub at his eyes-

Oh god, he's crying. And his dad is just sitting there, helpless and useless. Mr. Harrington's heart is impaled once again and he reaches up, wanting to try and fix this, to help.

But then Dustin's hands are settling on the guitar, determination joining the mix of sadness and anxiety, and Mr. Harrington is forced to sit back and watch.

Because Dustin starts playing.

He's heard the music from outside the garage walls. He's bought plenty of guitars for Dustin to play over the years, heard many types of genres coming from under the secrecy of that roof. It's Dustin's thing, his hidden passion outside of science and fantasy, so Mr. Harrington has let him have the privacy, keeping his pride tamed for his son's sake.

So to finally see Dustin playing is like pride tenfold, longing grasping his heart tight when he sees how Dustin leans into the music ("We're the few good ones left, dear... We just feel it differently from others, you know?" bemoans the voice in his head). How his eyes close, the tension in his body loosening as music echoes from the guitar's.

And it's a beautiful melody. Simple, like all good things are, but melancholic. Longing incarnate. Nothing he was expecting from this, but he never wants it to end. It feels like lost love, regrets...

But then the singing starts.

"First things first

We start the scene in reverse

All of the lines rehearsed

Disappear from my mind"

Faint and echoing. Barely audible at first, but steadily growing in sound as Dustin plays. Ethereal, Mr. Harrington remembers from the book. That describes it.

It's not Dustin, he's too focused on the guitar. And his voice cracks on words this quiet, his tone off no matter what genre he's singing along to. Gets it from his dad.

It's almost familiar. Sounds like home.

"When things got loud

One of us running out

I should have turned around

But I had too much pride"

Suddenly, something shifts in the air. It feels cold, like soft wind in a breath, then going tingly. The light pattering of winter's first snow.

There's a window behind Dustin, the evening light shining through the blinds and curtains lighting everything in a warm glow. If he wasn't watching Dustin, he wouldn't have seen it. The beams being cast on the couch beside Dustin are slightly bright... and are swiftly getting brighter.

"No time for goodbyes

Didn't get to apologize

Pieces of a clock that lies broken"

Before his eyes, the sunlight starts moving, swirling and disconnecting into little beads of light. It shifts colors, a gradient of orange and reds, purple and blue, a hazy cloud slowly materializing on the couch.

It's shaping into something, moving into specific sections to the music and words. Changing color all the while, blacks and reds appearing deeper, a figure coming through the shape. The voice keeps getting louder, screaming familiarity at Mr. Harrington-

Then in a flash, it solidifies, and everything else fades away. No room, no weather, no sense.

Just music and singing and... and him.

"If I could take us back

If I could just do that

I'd write in every empty space

The words 'I love you' in replace

And every time would not erase me"

He's sitting on the couch next to Dustin, almost laying down. Leaning back against the arm rest, knees bunched up on the cushion but shoes hanging off the side. His clothes look aged compared to nowadays, but it's the same flannel and black ripped jeans and chains as the faithful day they lost each other.

Oh god, his voice has the same gorgeous vibrato, words flowing from his lips like poetry. His hair has the same soft curly bounce, product keeping it infinitely safe. His face, his hands, his presence remains unchanged.

He's not looking up, doesn't have to for those deep amber doe eyes to be so visible. He's messing with his rings while he sings, watching the silver glint in the light that created him. Doesn't hide how sad, how longing and lonely he looks and sounds here in this place.

A hand is coming up to Mr. Harrington's chest, tears blotting his vision and he's not ashamed of blinking them into reality, can't let himself look away from this.

It's him, it's him, dear god, the man he thought he lost over 30 years ago, the man he thought left behind their love by choice while he had never let it go, who's voice and presence never left his mind, who he thought would come back but never did and couldn't have, he's ghostly and gone, he's gone but it's him, his love, Steve's love, finally here after so long...

"If you could only know

I never let you go

And the words I most regret

Are the ones I never meant to leave..."

His voice starts cracking, that sweet pretty voice breaking. His face crumbles, hands trembling and it breaks Steve in two and he wants to reach out and help, he wants but he can't-

Then he finally looks up. Their eyes meet and there's relief and longing and pain and sorrow in both of their eyes because they're seeing each other, finally finally finally, after so long...

"Unsaid Emily..."

Sung in a whisper to the strumming of his son.

Munson.

Eddie Munson.

Steve's sweet, dear Eddie Munson.

He came back...

He finally came home...

#Julie and the Phantoms Steddie AU anybody? :'D #was thinking about this song again n figured i should make it a full thing #gotta rewatch the show to get the lore right but anyway #steve is dustin's dad in the 20-somethings i dunno when exactly yet #corroded coffin is the ghost band that dustin can see #their unfinished business is eddie's who was dating steve in the 80-90s before they had a fight and eddie left the same night the band died #and cc sticks together even in their lead guitarist's relationship drama #would keep going but later #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #dustin henderson #lil cameo from #lucas sinclair #julie and the phantoms #sorry jatp fans a steddie infiltrated your place

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sepublic · 1 year

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After Thanks to Them and its whole theme of Death and Wanderers, I like how For the Future has this consistent theme of Vulnerability, Adolescence, the role of Adults, and Failure.

Like, there’s the obvious storylines with Willow and Luz, who refuse to show vulnerability and don’t forgive themselves over failure and weakness, don’t want to accept love out of shame. There’s the resolution of people accepting others into their life, admitting they need help, instead of maintaining this isolating sense of being a powerful individual.

Boscha? She’s deadly terrified of being vulnerable and couldn’t protect Cat and Amelia, and that’s something Kikimora can latch onto, like smelling blood in the water. She tells Boscha she can’t show weakness around her fellow students and must be an iron-fisted dictator to compensate, while also acting as the toxic adult that Boscha craves guidance from.

The Collector? Perhaps our most vulnerable antagonist of all, sure he has the most godlike power, but the episode repeatedly emphasizes that he’s still a kid. A scared, lonely kid who doesn’t want to be left by himself and even meekly asks for the companionship of a plush to protect him. A kid VERY vulnerable and open to the threat of Belos, who creeps into his bedroom when he’s asleep, and then manipulates the child as a puppet. He’s been failed by the adult Collectors in his life, who slaughtered potential Titan friends, as well as by King’s dad, who imprisoned him.

Even Belos himself counts; This is easily the most vulnerable we’ve ever seen Belos, his lowest point. Sure he was but a mere drop between Seasons 2 and 3, but here we really get to see just how much this dude is suffering, how much his body is falling apart. Turns out he CAN’T fully recover like we’d feared, his limbs are trailing behind Philip, eventually tearing off.

We see exposed bone, we see how Belos struggles and how he’s haunted by visions of Caleb and the Grimwalkers he killed, it’s a rather humane depiction of his grief. Belos isn’t sound neither physically nor mentally, which is a far contrast to how he’s usually been depicted, cool and collected and always with a plan. Belos is free-styling here and making up stuff as he goes along, and while he’s pretty good at it, he’s clearly at the end of his rope here in regards to his plans, with four hundred years building up to the Day of Unity wasted by an eavesdropping assistant with a grudge.

Likewise we have Hunter; He is traumatized by the loss of Flapjack, so he builds up a wall of aggression directed at his abuser in order to cope and feel less helpless. He NEEDS to feel in control and like he’s doing something, like he has agency and is enacting power against another, but that just isolates him from the others. It concerns Willow, and Hunter’s own walls merely encourage hers as well.

When Hunter reiterates to Willow and Gus how much they mean to him? He’s lowering his defenses, admitting vulnerability. Admitting he’s scared and he isn’t the macho, aggressive hero out to avenge his best friend that he was pretending to be. He needs help, he NEEDS Willow and Gus. And he cares, deeply. As does Willow, who conceals herself in an armor of thorns in denial of her pain, afraid it’s a betrayal of her growth into a stronger person.

Camila too! Camila is trying not to show how scared and freaked out she is by the Boiling Isles, because she needs to be a strong parent for Luz. She feels that she has failed Luz (who’s trying to be mature in looking after her mom), so Camila has to make up for it by being the supportive mother she needs, even trying to engage in combat with Kikimora, only to be endangered in the process. But in the end, Camila supports Luz not by being the tough and implacable adult who hides everything and worries Luz to no end as Eda did…

No, it comes from Camila admitting that she too has made mistakes. That she’s struggled and tripped and stumbled, just as Luz has. And this confession of her own vulnerability inspires Luz, because she realizes her mother DOES truly relate to and understand her pain. And knowing that her mom can overcome this, gives Luz the hope to do the same for herself, and realize she’s not isolated; She can share her vulnerabilities with someone!

Plus the running parallels of the Collector and the students at Hexside being chaotic and dangerous, but ultimately… they’re also vulnerable, they need help. They need an adult or someone to look after them, someone to rely on, and without that things just fall apart. The episode ends with the Collector feeling deeply betrayed and hurt, used, all over again, so he begins to retaliate with genuine anger this time. Boscha admits her need for Amity, and ultimately accepts that she needs help and allows the other students to work with her in taking down Kikimora.

Belos? Fundamentally a scared child who lost Caleb, the person who looked after him. His precious caretaker, and his entire crusade against witches, the grimwalkers, are all an extension of Belos not wanting to admit how scared and lonely he is. Willow sobbing as she admits she misses her dads, it’s an admittance that all these kids are still kids.

Sure, there’s the power fantasy of kids being able to have agency and do something, but TOH also reminds us that it’s nice and necessary to have someone to rely on and look after you; Being able to obliterate any enemy doesn’t feel like much if you don’t have any friends, if whatever adults you do allow are toxic, like Terra or Odalia. Hence the running theme of adults who DO understand and care and ultimately come around (be it Camila or the veneration of Bump, Eda and Lilith consoling King), as well as that search for a place of belonging.

And it makes sense. The empowerment of these types of stories, where the kids conquer the big villains? Find a family they can truly call as such? It’s because people are still hurting and need help and that’s okay. You can forgive yourself for that. People like Boscha and Belos of course struggle with becoming too co-dependent, but that just furthers the lesson of vulnerability being something you have to healthily acknowledge and deal with in order to survive. Admitting weakness is, paradoxically, a strength in and of itself. Characters come to term with their failures as parents, protectors, and leaders, while others feel haunted or punished no matter how hard they try.

#the owl house #luz noceda #willow park #the owl house boscha #the owl house collector #emperor belos #philip wittebane #camila noceda #the owl house hunter #analysis #meta

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