bow down bitches

my bright lipstick serves as a warning to other people: danger, i am poisonous.

[diosefm]

DIOSE VALEY, DESIGN PRODIGY

she was like a sword. her tongue was sharp, she was always ready to fight she never showed fear her eyes only ever showed determination.

playlist / pinterest

-before reading this, please start listening to this-

It’s no wonder how well put together you are given who your parents are.

What is a wonder though, is how an orphan child from District Ten became what you are now. 

Of course everyone knows you’re not really a Valey by blood, but you have done a pretty fucking good job showing them what you can do. Maybe it’s your pride, maybe it’s spite. Ever since you were younger, you had the kind of guts that drove you to always prove people wrong, to always exceed whatever expectations were put right in front of you. Your tutors would always be marveled at the beauty and poise you displayed from a young age, but your brains is what drove them and everyone around your family to absolutely love you.

You gobbled up that attention, letting it aid your ego grow. Always the golden child, never once did your parents allow you to think of your early days as yet another starving child. The irony was especially poignant in your case, as you lived in the district that provided the capitol with all of the delicacies you get to enjoy now. 

That might be your past, but it means nothing to you. Whoever your real family is, whoever your parents are, they’re meaningless. So, why waste your precious time pondering on what could’ve been when you live surrounded by the glitz and glamor of the Capitol.

And it was that precious combination and the luxury you grew up in that allowed you to become what you are now. A child prodigy, you made your first couture gown when you were barely entering puberty. By the time you were thirteen, you were one of the most sought for designers of the Capitol. It was no surprise that two years later, you became the go-to designer for the careers competing at the games. The first and only child to have this honor, you stood up straight and proud while surrounded by people twice your age. Despite their experience, you knew you were the best out of all of them.

Year after year, your designs would wow the nation. Who cared about the kids fighting to death when all Caesar could talk about was how absolutely delightful you are. And maybe, that’s exactly what you want.

You thrive on attention. People laud you and your work and you can’t help but feel elated. But of course, the kind of perfection you exude creates hatred. As much as you love to be appreciated, knowing people hate you is truly the fuel that keeps you going. You don’t say anything, of course. Why give those nonentities your attention? But you do know about them. You obsess over what they say about you, spending hours reading every single critique people emit. The more they seethe, the stronger you become. Surrounded by competitors, you’ve learned how to dodge every bullet. Literally, and metaphorically speaking.

Something you’ve noticed though, is that the critiques have been increasing with time. You get it. Tensions are rising thanks to that girl with the homely designs and less than subtle outfits. With hoe loved you are, you have the privilege of being the ear to many whispers, people eager to share their secrets in exchange for a Valey design and some validation provided by yours truly. 

You are a force to be reckoned with in so, so many ways. You may be silent about it and choose to focus on your work and improving the Valey legacy. So, while some may believe you’re just another vapid and privileged spoiled brat from the Capitol, deep inside you know if you wanted to, you could have them all kissing the soles of your feet. 

[diosefm]

ovcrlookcd​:

OF COURSE HE feels bad. Just a few days ago, the two of them had bared all their thoughts to each other, had spoken at length, perhaps not in this room but in this very suite, sitting beside each other on her couch, talking for hours about family and life growing up. Stark differences and shocking similarities had come to light, neither of them having expected to connect so much after a simple moment of candidness, a decision to share almost everything. It hadn’t been easy to listen to, likely for either of them; they were two people who couldn’t be any more different, who had grown up in opposite worlds, and yet somehow, they had suffered just the same, in ways they might not have fully comprehended before. Pista may have, certainly; he’d been raised in poverty after all, had learned to live each day well as a child, to savor every meal, to hold tightly onto every word from every lesson in every tattered book his mother could get her hands on. But Diose? No, hers had been veiled, a little more insidious, her pain fully revealing itself only once the carefully curated life around her had shattered. They’d told each other so much.

And now he can’t quite bring himself to tell her that the mere act of helping her sit up slowly in bed had reminded him a little too painfully about his own parents, about how there was nothing left for the two of them, most of all now that Tilsee is here, and Rye remains in the care of some neighbor, kind enough to take him off Pista’s hands while he’s here, in the Capitol, trying to make sure his own mother makes it out of this alive. Of course he feels bad. Even worse when she drops it, says okay, and moves on. Then she apologizes too, for having looked scared and angry when he’d first come in, and that just makes his heart sink even lower. It takes him a moment before he can answer, before he can even look back at her and tell her, “It’s okay…” And he means to say more, means to tell her it’s fine, he understands, she’s gone through a lot, but then she moves her hand over to his, giving it a soft pat.

Nice to see that you are you. And you are fine.

Pista draws a shaky breath, eyes wide as he stares at her. When she’s sitting up like this, it feels more normal, as if nothing had happened, nothing terrible had been done to her, and the two of them are just talking. He swallows, looks down, watches her hand there, in its place, and this time around, he doesn’t stop himself. Slowly, gently, he turns his hand around, palms facing up, and carefully wraps his fingers around her. There’s a prickling somewhere in the back of his neck, working in tandem with the ache in his chest, the dull pounding in his head. There’s something a little more here, that much he can tell, but he’s too afraid to entertain it, too afraid to think of the implications, of what it might mean for him, and for Diose, and for DeeZee, perhaps, most of all. But he can’t pull his hand back. He doesn’t want to do that Diose.

“I am fine,” he says, quietly, eyes still trained on their hands, held together in the dim. “Don’t worry about me.” Truth be told, he’s not sure how fine he is at all. “I’m okay.” He chews thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek. Diose’s hand is so small and fragile in his. “I’ll keep visiting. Check… check in on you.” Dark eyes flicker up to look at hers. “Alright?”

FIN

[diosefm]

DIOSE VALEY AESTHETICS: eternal sleepover

the bruises are fading away, sans a cut on her lip, the wounds on her face have healed and thus diose decides she is able to show her face in public, though you gotta thank makeup for that and robyn’s help with covering the purple and green spots on her face and chest. she years for some normalcy and the chance to stop feeling like a monster, so why not hold onto her old self for one night by wearing one of her customary stupidly expensive and elaborate nightgowns and robe.

[diosefm]

@silverostro​​ when: mayhaps after the meeting, rip silver where: some hiding spot with a sofa, convenient!!!

She desperately needs to rest, but how can she take a moment to lie down without worrying the people around her? She’s been notices, which is no hard task given what she is wearing and who she is. Her reputation might be ruined, but she can still feel people’s eyes on her, though now she is not receiving looks of admiration but those of distaste or mere curiosity. 

Her days of being a social butterfly are clearly over.

Diose remembers promising someone she wouldn’t hide... Dawn? Robyn? She can’t remember, but she knows that must have been a promise she made given the guilt she feels as she walks away from the living room, a hand glued to the wall as she walks though it spams and causes her to stumble. 

She expects to be able to take a seat somewhere and be alone and away from pestering looks, but instead she finds herself in the same vicinity as Silver. Oh. Well now she must say something, shouldn’t she? 

“I... Robyn told me what happened,“ she whispers, not wishing to startle them. They went through similar things, but she doesn’t know how well or bad they are taking it. “I’m s-sorry.“

[diosefm]

othcrhalf​:

He feels bad, even considering leaving Robyn to deal with all of this on their own when he knows full well Robyn probably doesn’t have any sort of experience with tending to wounds so severe, but he’s also certain he’s going to break at any minute, and he doesn’t want to make things worse than he already has. Working on wrapping the brand up with the gauze, taken care of for now, until it inevitably needs to be cleaned again, at least it doesn’t seem like any of the other wounds are quite as bad; and scratches, cuts, and bruises, even a broken bone or two, are nothing compared to the damage he might do because he can’t control himself anymore, if he sticks around much longer. But Robyn says they understand, says that he can go, that they can handle the rest, even if they don’t sound certain of that. 

Robyn’s apology comes as he’s finishing wrapping the brand, carefully, but quickly, and he has to clench his jaw again. “Don’t. There was no one else around. I was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, not your fault,” he says, through gritted teeth, through wavering voice. It doesn’t really feel like Robyn should be thanking him. This all would’ve been so much easier if Robyn had stumbled on someone else instead. But there’s no changing it, and it’s not any more Robyn’s fault than it is any of theirs. DeeZee really doesn’t deserve to be thanked for any of this, though, when all he’s done is make it harder for all of them. Before he can say anything, though, before he can get up, ready to run, Diose grabs his arm suddenly, and that makes him freeze in place.

And there they are again, the breathless, hoarse, pained apologies from her, and now it feels almost impossible to blink back the tears. She tells him he deserves better, and that nearly makes him laugh bitterly, because he’s not sure he does, maybe this is all karmic retribution for how horrible he’s been for years, too. Her hand on his arm feels like it’s burning, searing just like a brand. The rest of it is surprising, even in those breathless words, it seems like an acknowledgment of the past, a real one. The problem is he can’t just say it’s alright, I accept your apology, because he’s not really sure any amount of apologizing could be enough to make up for everything that has happened, even if she is in this state, and he should swallow his mess and say it anyway, even if he doesn’t mean it. But he’s never liked lying.

DeeZee pulls his arm away from her, gets up too quickly, sending the salve and the rest of the gauze to the ground as he steps back, shaking his head. “No, please…I can’t, I’m…I don’t deserve better, don’t fuckin’ worry about that…just…no, you shouldn’t have, but…I’ve done just as…fuck,” he shakes his head again, trailing off looking back to Robyn as he starts backwards toward the door. “You need help with the brand or anything worse later, come to Ten, I’ll write down instructions…but I’m…I can’t. I have to…I’m sorry.” And he does mean that apology, he’s sorry he’s not someone else, that he can’t do better at this, that he has to run with how overwhelming every part of this is, the brand, the apologies. DeeZee turns around finally, and leaves, not looking back, barely even noticing where he’s going from how the tears blur his vision, just desperate to get far from here and find a bottle of something strong.

@othcrhalf​

DEEZEE REJECTS THEIR apology, tells them it’s not their fault, but the way he mentions being at the wrong place at the wrong time only makes Robyn feel like they really ought to have thought this through better. It’s been clear from the first that DeeZee doesn’t want to be here, that this is the last place he wants to be in, the last thing he wants to do, for the last person he wants to do it for. He doesn’t acknowledge the thanks either, and simply keeps working, as quickly as he can, movements careful but with that edge of impatience, making it undoubtedly obvious just how much he wants to be out of here, and fast. Robyn can’t even say anything back. What could they possibly answer to any of that? They’ve never been in a situation as rife with history and complications and tough emotions as this. The thing with Digit had involved them personally, and they had known what they felt, still know what they feel, just as much as they had known what they could and couldn’t do about it.

This is something else entirely, and as much as they are one of Diose’s closest friends, there’s baggage here beyond their involvement. When Diose holds DeeZee back and apologizes — hard to watch as it is hard to listen to — that only drives the point home that much of this is between the two of them: Diose and DeeZee’s shared pasts, shared problems, his fuckups and her fuckups compounding one after the other, coming to a head in this traumatizing morning. Perhaps Robyn had just been the unwitting catalyst, finding Diose themself, and then serendipitously, cruelly, finding DeeZee immediately after to ask help from. It feels like a wicked thing to do, what Robyn had brought upon the two of them, making an already difficult situation even worse by their terrible decision-making, and there’s no stopping this train of thought now; once they’ve decided something is their fault, it’s hard to undo. DeeZee can’t even accept the apology properly, and that pains Robyn, seeing the hurt run so deeply that he can’t give Diose that even as she lies on the chaise, bloody and bruised and cut up all over, completely at the mercy of everyone around her.

When DeeZee finally leaves, Robyn sticks to their promise and does nothing to stop him. For a moment, they stay there on the floor, on their knees, in the same place where they had crouched beside DeeZee, and stare at the items he’d accidentally sent falling in his hurry to leave, their chest heaving. “It’s just you and me now, all right, Diose?” they say quietly, swallowing and trying to steady their breathing as they force their body to move, to pick up after the mess, hands shaking while their mind works itself to its limit, trying to figure out what to do next. They’re sure once they’ve latched onto the next thing, they’ll go on from there. They want nothing more than to shut their mind off and just work without thinking too hard. “It’s going to be fine.” They don’t know that, but they’ll say it anyway, hoping they’ll come to believe it. Maybe they’ll start with cleaning up the rest of the wounds on her body, now that the mark has been taken care of. Even when he hadn’t chosen to accept it, Robyn still thinks DeeZee ought to be thanked for that.

“I’ll take care of you,” they say shakily, wringing the cloth DeeZee had used, intending to clean it. Maybe they’ll look for another one just in case. There ought to be an abundance of these in that drawer. They’ll have to clean up the mess on the floor too. All of this. They should be able to do it. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

@diosefm​

...

Diose doesn’t expect DeeZee to accept her apology. He didn’t do it before, why would he do it now when she’s once again show how much she excels at making his life hell. There will be better opportunities to show how repentant she is, or so she tells herself in order to withstand the pain of rejection. She is not used to it, this being something that never happened, not even once. People clamored for the attention of Diose Valey, but that was back then. Things are different now and she better get used to her new world. And fast.

She doesn’t watch DeeZee leave, instead choosing to bury her face in the now stained chaise because Diose also is too scared of what she might find if she dares to look at Robyn’s face. Se must admit she is surprised they’re still there, doing something so disgusting and mundane as tending to the cuts and bruises that cover her body. (She refuses to even consider the possibility of Robyn also taking care of the mess she’s made on her bathroom floor.) They both grew up in luxury and had people bandage even the smallest and simplest of cuts for them. Neither or them are equipped to do something like this, but Robyn keeps trying, insists on staying there and not letting anyone else touch her. That means the world to her. If she is crying now, it’s because Robyn’s devotion and strength had touched her to the point she can’t contain herself. 

They say things will be fine, and she doesn’t believe them. As much as poor Robyn is trying, Diose knows that just can’t be possible anymore. Her mind is not the same, but her smarts make a small appearance, helping her figure out that this moment is something of a reset for all of them. She can’t be certain of things being fine, but one thing she is sure of is that things are changing. For the better or worse, she doesn’t know, though she is leanings towards the latter.

She parts her lips in order to thank them, but she finds her voice is gone. Another thing she will save for later. When she is better. If she gets better.

FIN

[tedchaough]

Mad Men Challenge: [2/9 characters] Betty Draper Francis as portrayed by January Jones

[equatorjournal]

[diosefm]

dcwnhardin​:

After so much pain in his personal life, after twenty years helping prepare to send children to their deaths, and twenty years before that with that horror show hanging over his head in different ways, first as a possible fate, then as a sick and twisted entertainment, seeing children he knew being sent off, he’s learned that the only way to keep going is to keep his stubborn hope up. Because he’s seen the good that can shine through pain, the way people come together, the way people step up in unexpected ways when given the chance. So he’s determined for that for Diose, too, that this reckoning, her former life destroyed, will set her up for the opportunity for something better, something kind and unselfish, and understanding of why the way they were both raised in the Capitol wasn’t perfection, but toxic, harmful, traumatizing. That it led them both to being betrayed by the very people who were supposedly looking out for their best interests. 

It’s not going to be easy, he knows this intimately well. The road will be even more difficult for Diose, not just because of how she was taught to think, so much to unlearn, but also because of what that caused her to do to other people. He has hope, but he’s a realist, and he recognizes that to some people she may never be able to make amends, that no amount of unselfish change will be enough, which he knows is fair, but makes it all the more important for her to have those who do support her close, and ready to help pick her up in the struggle to get back on that path to change.

It hurts them to hear that the Capitol had used someone to trick her, too, that it was Pista they used against her, the poor man, but it also says something to him that he’s almost certain it seems as if she hasn’t considered yet. Why they chose to use him against her, just as they used Dawn against Slate in his torture. But that’s not a question for today, when he’s already posed enough difficult things for her to think about while she slowly recovers and has the time alone to do so between visits from those who care. “I’m so sorry. It seems to be a favorite tactic of theirs, using those we care about against us, to get what they want. But you’re not alone, and I know plenty of people who are going to do what they can to keep anything like any of this from happening again,” he said, voice soft, but certain. His hand moves to her hair again, smoothing back once again. “All you can do is try for them. And I’ll help you get there, Diose, don’t worry. I’ll be here, alright? I’m not going anywhere.”

...

“Y-yeahh...“ What Dawn says... She knows it better than anyone. Not because she’s experienced it herself like him. No, Diose has always been on the other side, barking orders and ensuring those who crossed her got their comeuppance. Now she is the one getting punished, paying for all the pain she caused. Surely a lot of people all over Panem have been parroting about divine justice after her TV special.

"I..... S-ssssupose......” Though it’s weird they used Pista and not Virgo or Slate. Or Robyn. All of them are family, her actual family. She doesn’t let her thoughts linger too much on that, which has been her go-to strategy the last couple of days. Avoiding thinking about things she doesn’t seem to understand will save her a lot of time and prevent headaches and confusion, which she doesn’t need right now. She has so much to focus on those things would be horrible distractions, but then again, isn’t what she’s told Dawn a sign that perhaps it’s worth pondering on why things happening the way they did? Maybe later, when she is well-rested

Dawn is good at being comforting, Diose is immensely lucky to be someone Dawn cares so much for he is willing to spend a few moments apart from Slate to be with her. People are still working towards making things better, that’s good. She can’t help them anymore, so hopefully they won’t deny her the opportunity of benefitting from their work, take into account what she got to do before the power she attempted to used against the Capitol was forcefully snatched from her. 

“T-thanks. B-but..... You c-can go.... Sssseee Slate?“ She feels so guilty for having taken so much of his time already, and she is sure Slate must be going crazy if he is awake. He should get preferential treatment. “Aftt-terrrr thisss.... I’ll b-be fine.“

FIN

[denalifoxx-deactivated20220703]

Just do what I say, Atwood.

THE O.C. | 4x01: “The Avengers”

[diosefm]

ovcrlookcd​:

DIOSE DOES HER best not to make too much noise when he helps her up, but it’s clear by the look on her face that she’s experiencing extreme amounts of pain, no matter how careful and delicate Pista can force his touch to be. He tries not to pay much mind to it, knowing there’s nothing he can really do about it at this point, and similarly tries not to focus on the memory his mind is fighting to remind him of. Once she’s settled, she stares at him, perhaps more clearly now than she’s had the chance to since his arrival here. The look on her face says concern, which is odd to him, considering how much pain she’d been in just now, in trying to sit up alone, but when she speaks to him, Pista realizes what the look is for. Immediately, he feels guilt.

“No. No, of course not,” he says, wanting her to get rid of that thought. It isn’t really her her, is it? Just something he’d been reminded of while helping her. But it’s not her fault. “I just…” He considers being honest for a moment, then considers lying, before eventually coming to the conclusion that maybe it’ll be for the best if he remains, at the very least, vague about it. He isn’t really good at concealing what he’s feeling, but he can at least put away the reasons why. “I was reminded of something. It’s okay. You don’t have to concern yourself about it,” he continues, gesturing vaguely at himself, his mind, whatever. There’s that sense of helplessness, starting to creep in again, knowing he couldn’t do anything to help his father, or to help his mother help his father — and then recognizing that he truly, completely cannot do anything to help Diose now.

Pista turns to her, tries to put a smile on, weak as it is. No sense thinking too much about things he can’t do a thing about, but that’s precisely why he’s thinking about them, isn’t it? “I hope my being here hasn’t… caused you too much stress.” He’s caused her some stress, that much he can say, so it wouldn’t be right to assume he hadn’t at all, especially considering her reaction when she’d first seen him by the doorway. He can only hope he’s made up for it by helping.

...

Every breath she takes is followed by a wince she tries to hide, not needing Pista to feel even worse. His face does concern her. Yes she is in pain and feels like screaming, but she’s done enough of that to leave her throat hurting and many people’s ears ringing. And Pista looks exhausted, more so than usual. She wonders if she spent hours worrying. Thinking that perhaps he was worried about her is hopeful and foolish thinking, so pushes those thoughts aside, figuring that if anything he must be scared for him and his mother after his act of treason has been broadcast all over Panem. 

He doesn’t want to tell her what’s truly bothering him, and that’s fine. Fine in the way that she knows she should respect his wishes to not tell her anything she wants to hear just because she is curious, but it does trouble her that he’s chosen to keep this one thing to himself when she thought that in the past they had come to learn how to trust each other. So, even if he denies her appearance is the reason why he looks so contrite, Diose believes that’s exactly what’s at fault. But he is smiling so she does the same, but of them keeping their actual thoughts hidden from one another. 

“Ok-kayyy....”

“It issss...... N-nice to h-haveee you here.“ Despite her hesitance to let him see her, it’s not a lie. She does like not being alone with her thoughts and her suffering, Pista’s visit offering a distraction that keeps her mind from unraveling. “I’m ssssorry ifff..... L-loooked ssscaredd-d or..... Or-rrrr ang-gryyy.....” She still has to remind herself that whoever took her wasn’t him. It looked like him, but Pista being so willing to care for her is proof of how whoever captured her had to be someone else. Nevertheless, she can’t shake the feeling of something being... Off. It’s her fault and only hers, a consequence of never allowing herself to ever properly deal with her feelings instead of burying them. 

Swallowing hard, she draws a breath and moves her hand, gently patting Pista’s. She’d give it a squeeze, but her fingers won’t respond, only her arm. “N-nnice to sssee.... You are... y-you.... And y-you are f-fffine.”

[diosefm]

othcrhalf​:

The motion, not quite as gentle as his first attempt at putting her on the chaise, running out of patience, and the ability to hold himself together by a fucking thread, apparently is worse than he thought, making her lose her stomach on the floor, barely anything substantial but still it makes him nearly gag himself, the bile at the back of his throat from the sight of the brand, the reminders of that familiar pain, seeing it inflicted on a person, threatening to rise. But he pushes through it, because he wants to be fucking finished, he wants to be done with this. There are still tears threatening to spill over the corners of his eyes, and he’s having more trouble blinking them back by the moment, even as  Robyn pushes the bowl toward him, hands him the cloth, and the sound of Diose trying to apologize again makes him have to clench his jaw, bite the inside of his cheek until he can taste blood so that his own emotion doesn’t spill over until he’s alone.

DeeZee doesn’t look at her face, focuses on the brand on her shoulder as if staring at it might desensitize him, might make the apologies become nothing more than white noise. “This is going to hurt, but not as badly as it’ll hurt if we don’t clean it. Try not to move, please, for the love of all that’s fuckin’ holy,” he says, hating the way his voice shakes, just as badly as his hand as he dips the cloth in the water, wrings it out. He finds his own apology for this moment on the tip of his tongue, knowing she’ll likely scream, knowing full well how these burns feel after, having accidentally burned his hand once, but the apology dies on his tongue, because that burn is gone now, that hand got taken from him, replaced with an instrument of brutality. At least she’ll still have her shoulder, her arm. 

With that hand, he holds her arm in place so she can’t squirm, make it worse, and with the other, he starts to clean the wound, starting around it so she can adjust to that feeling of pain, if she can as someone who’s never had to feel pain like that before in her life, before moving to the actual brand. It doesn’t take much for the water to turn a sickening color, as he keeps dipping the cloth in, but the action lets him block out anything else, focused on this, something about it taking him back to the process of butchering safely, efficiently. And he hates it, but there’s no choice. Cleaning, quickly, but thoroughly, flushing out the open wounds, gently applying the salve, only then letting go of her arm so that he can start to unwrap the gaze, try to figure out how to wrap the brand, it’s only then that it all starts rushing back, the panic, the pain, and for once when fight or flight kicks in, he desperately wants to flee. “Check if there’s any other wounds this bad, anything you don’t think you can deal with yourself. I’m not…I can’t…if there’s anything else this bad, I’ll deal with it, if you need me to move her again, I will, but…” he shakes his head, only finally looking at Robyn, implication clear he fucking hopes, without having to say he wants to get the fuck out of here and away from all of this.

@othcrhalf​​

DIOSE IS MOVED a little too roughly and too suddenly back on the chaise, and she empties her stomach all over the bathroom floor. Robyn draws back, horrified, wanting to gag again as well, and they turn their head away, the image, the sound, the smell of it all a tad too overwhelming for them. Seeing things like this on broadcast is nothing at all like witnessing it firsthand, and they’re almost thankful DeeZee is mostly handling this for them. They know they can’t keep depending on him, though, and the look on his face, his reaction, something they can focus on instead of Diose herself, says it all. He’s close to breaking, but he’s holding on somehow, for all their sakes, his hands moving on autopilot as he begins to clean her up. For their part, Robyn attempt to calm Diose down, placate her a few soothing words as well. Then they refill once the water turns, hands it to DeeZee as he tends to the mark on her back, wordlessly watching, trying to shut off as well, not focus too much on the screams, the reactions that are hard to hear.

When he finishes with his thorough cleaning, DeeZee starts to speak, and the sound of his voice tells Robyn everything. There’s panic in there, some kind of agitation, a desperate need to leave now, to stop this, to get himself out. His words drive his point home, and Robyn’s heart aches as they’re reminded once again that it was their fault DeeZee’s having to go through this in the first place. They don’t want to give him time to doubt where they stand here. “It’s okay, DeeZee, I understand,” Robyn supplies immediately, their own tone rushed and hurried as well. “You can… you can go. I’ll handle the rest.” They’re not so sure they can because they don’t know how they will, but they’re relying on that sense of responsibility. Somehow, some way, they’ll figure out what to do, without DeeZee around to help.

“I’m so sorry, DeeZee, I didn’t…” Mean to do this to you, their mind continues, but they can’t get themself to say it out loud. It would be so easy to defend themself, to say that they didn’t have a choice — but maybe they did. Maybe if they had waited a little longer, looked a little harder, avoided DeeZee when they’d seen him walking there, they still would have found someone. None of this would have had to happen. Their only hope of ever fixing this with DeeZee is to give him what he wants and let him go now, even if it means they’re left to their own devices, to figure this out without outside assistance. It’s the least they could do after causing him so much distress. And they’re certain he won’t need to hear this either, but they couldn’t possibly let him leave without telling him at least once. 

“Thank you.”

@diosefm​​

...

Every time she thinks things can’t get worse, they do, so maybe she needs to attempt to stop thinking at all. Her mind is weak and thoughts barely make sense, so it would be for the best. Make DeeZee and Robyn’s life easier, at least for a while. It wasn’t her intention to do so, but Diose will subjected both of them to something that ought to leave them scarred for life. A way for her them share her own burden with her. Her last evil act.

Not thinking is easy when her wounds are being tended to, the burn obviously being the worst of them and thus the one DeeZee focuses on. He asks her not to move, and she does want to comply, she really does, but the second the brand on her back is touched Diose begins squirming. As breathless as she is, she still screams, perfectly manicured stiletto nails digging into her fancy chaise until she breaks through the fabric. She is sweating, lithe body spasming as DeeZee continues holding her down, but at leas her hands seems to be working now. Taking advantage of that before DeeZee leaves. Diose probably should let him flee, the one glance she got from him making it clear how much trouble the man’s having handling all of this, but she can’t. Not until she says something. 

Robyn should not be the only person carrying the burden of involving DeeZee. Diose should be the one dealing with most of it, not them. They were just trying to help. They apologize, and Diose joins them in. Her words are not as clear as theirs, but she tries. It hurts, her throat begs for a break after all the screaming and it’s clear in how hoarse her voice is, but she ignores it and grabs onto DeeZee’s arms, keeping him in place. 

“I.......... Am............... Ssssssssssorry............“ She inhales, feeling like she is running out of air. “You......... D-dessssserve.......... B-better........“ A better apology. A better fucking morning where he doesn’t have to care for someone he hates.  “Sshhhhouldn’t.... Have d-dddonee that...... Ssssorry I.... usssed-dd you.....“

@deezeeashfrost​

[userleias]

ICARLY S01E04

[diosefm]

@ncllysnge

[diosefm]

hcrdcreeks​:

He is extremely exhausted. He’s like to collapse into bed and try and forget all of this. He’s not sure he would be able to. Considering that now there’s not different in awake or asleep, it’s all the same darkness. Who knows if he could fall asleep with his racing mind. 

“Yeah, we should get up.” He nods, but there’s a hand still holding onto her arm and he’s trying to figure out how to get up without knocking into everything. He decides not to ask about her shoulder, figuring it’s best not to continue that part of the conversation.

“You have to make sure I don’t break anything if I stand.”

...

“Y-yyyouuu..... N-need to help-pp me sssstay up.“ Looking around her, she doesn’t think there is anything Slate might knock over by mistake. The table seems sturdy and the vase on it is too far away from his grasp so unless he were to start flailing his arm around, it should be safe. 

Taking his hand, she places it on the edge of the table, patting it instead of giving it the squeeze she first tries to pull off. Maybe despite that, Slate will understand since she can’t exactly bark any orders like she’s used to doing. It’s been a day, and she misses it already. That and many other things. Fingers crossed she gets all of them back. 

“R-rrready? N-neeed helppp..... Sssstand-ddding up. Legsssss..... T-took weak.” 

[diosefm]

ovcrlookcd​:

PISTA’S EXPRESSION GOES from vague confusion to something a little softer as Diose tries to explain herself through broken words, the meaning coming through in spite of that difficulty. He remembers how intent she’d been on having him cover and hide every single one of her mirrors, how much she’d insisted that he turn away or look elsewhere when he’d first entered. In his fear and worry, he might not have fully comprehended it then, but now, there’s something a little endearing about how concerned she still is about the way she looks when there’s literally so much else she ought to be worried about. Not that he’d want her to worry about those things either; if he could have his way, he’d rather Diose not have to worry about a single thing ever again. Not about paying him back, not about bothering herself with his mother, not about the wounds all over her body or the brand on her back, and certainly not about the way she looks.

Life isn’t so kind, obviously.

“Right.” He nods. “Okay.” Pista’s going to be honest. He’s not sure how he’s meant to do this without hurting her in some way. As it stands, no matter what he does, she’ll probably end up in pain again, but she clearly knows that, if she’s asking him for help. If she wanted to stay there, lie numbly on her stomach, she wouldn’t have asked this of him. “All… alright.” There’s some difficulty in getting it to work, but he starts by setting the ice pack aside for a moment before helping her up slowly, very gradually and gingerly, careful not to put his hands anywhere with particularly obvious gashes and wounds. He pushes her hair aside slightly as well, keeps it from sticking to her back too much. There’s a brief instance where his mind decides to provide an image for him, of his own mother just as slowly and just as carefully helping his father with normal, every day things, and his heart twinges in pain for a second. He pushes the thought away, not quite appreciating that comparison. “There. How’s that?” he asks, voice wavering for a moment, attempting to recover from that memory. He dips his head so she can look at him. “Better, I take it?”

...

“O-kkayyyy....“ She readies herself, eyes following Pista so she knows when it’s the best moment to bite her tongue so she won’t end up screaming. Even if she was so out of it, she clearly remembers how her body betrayed her as she ended up throwing up, making everyone around her sick in the process. Diose does not want a repeat of that. It’s a risk, sure, but she prefers it over remaining lying on her stomach looking pitiful. 

Thankfully Pista proves to be rather careful, showing he is mindful of how painful this can be for her. It does hurt, obviously. As delicate as he tries to be, Diose has too many bruises and was beaten enough to leave her entire body hurting for weeks. There is no screaming. She keeps her lips pressed together, winces and whimpers of course, but it stops quickly once he steps back and Diose now gets to properly look at him. It’s not much, but at least now she feels less fragile, like she can pretend she isn’t doing so bad. 

“G-good.“ When she cried earlier, she noticed how much it made her cheek hurt so she’s stuck to remaining expressionless for hours. If her body isn’t moving, then her face isn’t either. Still, the ghost of a smile tugs at her lips, this being one of the few things she can do to thank Pista for his willingness to help her and remain in her room despite how hard it must be to look at her. Something else she can do is look around the room, see he did a good job covered every mirror she once loved to look at herself in. Maybe once she is better at using her hands she’ll write him a thank you note. “Y-yyoouu..... look upsssset-tt........ B-becausssse of me?” Is she that frightening to look at?

[aslibekroglu]

[diosefm]

@hcrdcreeks

[diosefm]

dcwnhardin​:

Dawn knows that it’s not an easy thing to consider, because it means considering her own years of trauma and abuse at the hands of the Capitol as a whole, and her family specifically to consider that what she was told was perfection was nothing more than a toxic illusion, but he also knows that there’s no way through all of this pain to a better place without facing those realities. It’s something that will be easier if she starts considering it now, when she’s still healing, when she’s stuck in the suite with time to think, and people dropping in to talk to. So he gives her a small, soft smile, gives her hand another squeeze, tries to give some of his strength to her. “I know. But some pain is worth what comes out on the other side. This is different than it was before

It pains Dawn to see how broken both Diose and Slate are. Two of the strongest people he’s ever met, made into shells of themself, spending their words putting themselves down, talking about how much bad they’ve done, how they’re not who Dawn thinks they are. It makes his chest ache, but it also makes him quietly angry at the Capitol for doing this. They don’t have time for those doubts, for the self-pity, and the believing that if you feel weak you are weak, and so there’s little use trying to fight that. He had gotten Slate to agree to work together with him to get through it, by determination for a future where he wouldn’t put Dawn’s life before others’, and he hopes his clear belief in him, now he needs to do that with Diose. But it feels like the belief and insistence isn’t working for her, so maybe he needs to try what he’d ended up with Slate, acknowledging the fear, and saying maybe it is founded. 

“Why do you want me to say yes so badly? Because you want me to tell you that you should feel guilty? Or you want to wallow in being responsible for putting other people in danger? I understand how easy it is to fall into those feelings. They used me against Slate in his torture, Io was taken because of what I asked her to do. But living in guilt, or self-pity? Neither of those things are helpful, Diose, or else you’ll be stuck in place forever. I can’t let you get stuck here,” Dawn shakes his head emphatically. “If you feel responsible, if you do believe some of the blame sits on your shoulders, what you need to do is work to make the opposite true as you heal. That path you were on before the wedding? I’ll help you get back on it.”

...

With all the pain she’s felt in the last few days, Diose fervently hopes that whatever comes out, as Dawn said, is big and wonderful and able to fix all her wrongs. Because he is right, things are different. The influences that made her who she is are no longer around, the motivation to be the best at everything is now dead. All Diose has to focus on is herself and those who are still close to her. If people are choosing to spend time with her during this difficult time, then it’s a sign of how they’re worthy of having her continuing aiming to be a better person. 

And there is a beam of hope too. If people are still willing to come to her, to let her know that despite everything she’s done, what they saw on TV, and what she’s lost they still want her in their life, then maybe there is still a chance for Diose to redeem herself and do better for them. Because frankly, if she was all alone in this she would have given up already. 

But, it’s back to reality. She is distracted from her thoughts when Dawn speaks up again, asking her something she doesn’t quite know how to answer to. The reactions of other people to the changes she’s made in her life and the apologies she had given people are a few of the things that make her doubt herself. Dawn is supporting and loving and encouraging, yes, but not everyone has been that way. There is no denying that at first her change was mostly motivated by selfishness and she only cared about people she liked. Now, she thinks everything might be different. And maybe this time, people will have an easier time believing she is being genuine since she has nothing left to lose. 

“P-pppisssstaa.... Ussssed-dd him t-tto trick-kk m0mmeee t-ttooo......“ And she fears he will be used against her again. Well, him and others like Dawn and Virgo and Robyn and even Slate. “I....... T-tryyy.... I w-will tttry.......“ She has to. “Sssslate sssaid-dd...... H-he n-needds me and...... M-many people d-doo.... I n-need...... Y-you..... Help.“ IF there is something she knows, is that Dawn might be a key part to helping her improve, get back on the right track. She owes him that much.

[gghbosource]

GOSSIP GIRL 2021 1.04 “Fire Walk with Z”

[diosefm]

@virgobydcsign