#And i'm overheating :/ sad

[nothanksjohnny]

At times the nemesis is calm. It's mechanism are soft in their churrs and hums as they repeatedly do their functions to keep the ship running. The vehicons are hushed and move smoothly through the halls. Some try to play to part of a empty minded machine. It's easier that way at times. Do your job and leave. It echos repeatedly. They try to ignore the pitted glances they get. They tuck away thanks of any fellow decepticon that is more gentle with them.

Its these days. Maybe weeks when starsscream stands empty beside Megatron. He's quite. It's so irritating to the past gladiator when he's like this. When he has to let a flicker of acknowledge run through his processor that he has damaged the seeker. And by his side starscream continues to remain. Wings high but optics dimly lit. Mouth in a soft thin line and his only inputs are genuine. It's frightening to Soundwave. For even on cybertron even when ridiculed for even dreaming of being a scientist the seeker never lacked in giving backlash. And yet here he stands a hallowed version. And yet if you catch the seeker is lucid moments you may meet one of few truest versions of himself. If you walk slowly through the halls you'd hear true apologies to Megatron. You'd hear him reminiscing with the leader. And maybe when he's left the room you'd hear the war lord apologize to. And maybe you'll hear heart broken screams as a crash screams through the walls from a room.

Its these soft moments that cause knockout to weep in remembrance of all his patients that have passed in his servos. His frame shaking with silent sobs and pleas for the war to end. His rechage spent drowning in the memories of all those who died. Not all decepticon either. Yes the extremely polished medic has helped neutrals and autobot alike. He swore on his oath he'd held any in need on cybertron. He finds himself leaning into breakdown pleading in forgiveness that his conjux won't leave him. He'd understand though. He's no longer a mech that has done petty actions. No now he's got energon on his servos that won't go away no matter how much he scrubs and scratches at his servos. He was once caught in such condition by the second in command. All the the seeker did was let his wings fall as he slowly lifted the medics servos out of the cleaning solution and dried them as he remained by his side aiding in tasks around the small sharp edged clinic until he was called upon. It's one of the reasons why the medic kept giving aid to the seeker.

Its these silent days that cause Soundwave to hold his cassettes closer. So fearful to let them out of his sight. He saw it. So many cassettes targeted or simply torn apart because their docking companion was killed. He can still hear their sobs if he walks the halls. He csn almost see all the bods and limbs as a sea of energon kissed the ground in quickly growing pools. He tried to help them. Tried to move them to safety to find others they could dock with but it was to no avail. So many perished. So many more begging for a chance willing to serve if it meant they could live . It isn't often he questions Megatron but when he does a Never ending anger seems to always follow.

[hewhobreathesfire]

I started with vaccuuming because we got a REALLY nice new vaccuum for Christmas from my inlaws, and it's got enough suction that it actually picks up the decades worth of dust and detrirus stuck in the cracks between floor boards and. well. everywhere else. I don't know the last time this place was actually cleaned before we moved in, and we didn't have the chance or spoons to do a deep clean before getting all of out shit in here. I've been slowly trying to chip away at it, and this vaccuum is making a huge difference already. I got SO much off of the bedroom floor.

[arcadian-vampire]

I'm wearing something sorta cute today! Not fully cute because I woke up very tired + I like to wear layers and am wayyyyyyy too hot for layers these days, but sorta cute. My shirt has strips of lace down the sleeves 👍

[keeps-ache]

i need people to stop trying to talk to me rn lmao

[coldalbion]

god made people like me to stay bright and energized all night so the summer people can cry in the yurt for three months while there's no farming to do

[ccraccz]

Hello! I'm I wanted to ask you if you could make a Wind Breaker boys react to childhood friend! Reader moving to or returning back to Makochi and seeing them again?

Or like how are they with a Childhood friend! Reader? (Specially for Sakura, he is my favorite character!)

Only if you want to, obviously!

Characters: Sakura Haruka, Umemiya Hajime, Kaji Ren x GN!Reader

TW: bullying, a wee bit of angst, assault (?), fighting (duh)

FRIENDLY REUNIONS

Sakura Haruka

You were unlike anyone else when he was in his home town

You didn't tell him that his hair was weird

or yell at him that he was a freak like the other kids

He never had a reason to have to defend himself against you

He saw that you tried to constantly play with him, pointing out at the park and asking your guardian to play just for a minute

if they would let you, he would see you attempt to beeline towards him only to be pulled away before you could reach him.

during school over at his home town, students would pick on him and teachers would treat him differently

but you didn't

you stayed indifferent even if it meant getting beat down and having to come back to school to a desk filled with degrading words and a bruised up face and body

He would defend you as much as he can when he sees you get picked on by other students due to you helping him

but right after beating them, he would constantly tell you that he "doesn't need your help", and that "you stop defending him"

Hell... he didn't even know your name...

so when he left, it felt like a a breath of fresh air, the weight of having to protect someone else being lifted off of his shoulders

so when he saw you in Pothos, talking to Umemiya and Kotoha

it was as if ice water was dunked on him

seeing you, a scar on your beautiful face, the same hair style, the same eye shape and color

"SAKURA-KUN! HEEEY!!!" Umemiya calls out when the bell rings, announcing a new customer coming in. In front of the whitehaired male, you sat with an order of fried onigri in front of you and a cup of {drink}, a small blush on your face.

You turn around in your chair. 'That name.. It can't be...' Your eyes are wide as you stand up quickly. "S-Sakura..."

The same two toned hair color, the same heterochromatic eyes, the same pout and blush he had on his face when he saved you for the last time. He still looked the same...

You rush towards, him, being careful enough to not let the chair fall behind you, before tackling him.

"GUH!-" He grunts in response, holding your body to not send you both to the ground, his face bright red, nose bleeding slightly form the fight he just came from, eyes shaking from the sudden affection. He can't comprehend.

"Oh my goodness, Sakura!!" You call out, tears brimming in your eyes, hands gripping tightly "I didn't think I would see you here! Last time I saw you was when..." Your ranting fell on deaf ears as Sakura.exe overheated.

Umemiya Hajime

You always played with him and the rest of the kids in the orphanage

and you didn't judge him like other did when his hair started to turn white due to the stress and trauma he had to g through when he first arrive to the orphanage

Your parents donated a lot of their things when they where going to leave to the orphanage, which meant that you donated a lot of your own things, like your favorite nightlight because you where no longer scared of the dark, or the large amounts of books you had in your room

he was sad that you had to leave, and so where the other children.

but he believes that YOU were the most sad of them all

the memory of you, sobbing into his small shoulder when you told him that your father got a new job opportunity in Yokohama and that you had to move still replays in his mind when he misses you

the cute nightlight that you gave the orphanage was still beside him, using it for when he's awake late at night and reading

so when he gardening around on the rooftop, the last thing he expected was a call from Hiragi talking about how some "Citizen wanting to meet him"

So he has Hiragi and his group bring you to the rooftop of his school for a small meeting

what he didn't expect is to see you

Standing beside Hiragi, you huffed in exhaustion, the amount of stairs taking a toll on both your legs and your lungs.

"So... how do you know Umemiya?" the blond haired teen asks, hand on the nob of the door to the roof.

"Oh! We were friends when we where younger, but I had to leave for Yokohama because my father got a better job opportunity!" You explained, your words being enough to let him twist the knob and open the door to the roof top.

Walking behind him, your tummy churns in nervousness, anxiety running through your veins. Your hands are behind you, not wanting them to express your emotions unlike your eyes.

"Umemiya, here they are," Hiragi speaks up, rubbing the back of his neck with a large grimace on his face. Umemiya was crouched down, a small, blue, towel on his neck collecting the sweat that beaded around his neck and dripped down his face from the beating heat. He turns around when he hears Hiragi's voice, looking behind the male with a large, close eyed, smile on his face.

"Hello! Where you looking for me?" Umemiya asks loudly, before he open his eyes again and see you.

"Haji... I'm back..." Your eyes are wide. The small boy you were friends with was no longer shorter than you, his hair was no longer white atop of black, his smile was brighter than ever, and he was built.

Instantly after the nickname was dropped from your lips, his menacingly large form was in front of you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he lifts you up into the air with a squeal of exitement.

"[name]!!! IT'S BEEN SO SO SO SO SO LONGGG!!!" he calls out in happiness.

From behind him, Hiragi takes a two gaskun-10's, watching the white haired male lift you and twirl around in happiness.

Kaji Ren

You were his first friend in elementary school, being his neighbor had his perks

he would save your when you were bullied, and you would help him calm down when he got a little to heated

he would hold your hand when you both would walk back home and you would bring him extra food from your home when he needed snacks

so when you came over for your weekly play date crying, he was really angry, wanting to know why you were crying

having to move to another city was scary, especially when you don't have your best friend there to save your from the possible bullies you might gain in the new school

So when you left, he was way more irritable and much more stressed, not having you near him to calm him down with your constant affection or words

When he met Hiragi and the rest of the main group that helped him out, it always felt like there was a small piece missing

and the guys could tell that there was always something off. but they couldn't tell what it was

you coming back to your home town in Makochi after years away from it was like a breath of fresh air

what you didn't expect is to be cornered by a group of highschoolers wanting to cause trouble

and he didn't expect to see you again, saving you the same way he used to when you both were younger

It was that same move, that same hairstyle, those same angry but alluring eyes. He was annoyed seeing some stupid group taking advantage of a innocent person, Kusumi and Enomoto right beside him.

"Those damn, fucking..." Kaji mumbled under his breath, standing in front of he gang leader and wiping his face with the back of his hand, Enomoto right beside him. Kusumi stood in front of you, blocking your body and maybe even your view, his frizzy hair catching your eye.

Kusumi quickly types something on his notes app before showing you.

'Are you okay? You seem quite frazzled ( ;´･ω･`)'

You smile lightly, nodding before turning back to the fighting, watching every move your childhood friend did. Every move he did in front of you now was a more refined version of what he did back then. It was fascinating, and almost mesmerizing.

"Yeah, just..." You mumble "reminiscing the last time Kaji saved me when we where younger." Kusumi looks at you before looking down again and taps away at his phone.

'Yk Kaji? ('_'?)'

You chuckle, "Yes I do, we were neighbors-"

CRASH

You sigh. "We were neighbors when we were younger, he used to save me constantly when we were in school!"

'PLZ THAT'S SO CUTE! ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡'

"What'rrrr you guys gigglin' 'bout overrrr therrre?" Enomoto asks, his tongue rolling each 'R' in the sentence.

'She was just explaining that Kaji used to save her constantly when they were younger! ( ;´･ω･`)'

You nod along before looking at Kaji, who is frozen looking at you. The stick of his Chupa Chups almost falling out of his mouth as he looks at you. You, who has changed, matured, but also you who is in constant trouble but know that you'd get help. He walks slowly, getting closer to you, almost as if if he were to move too fast, you would run away.

"[name]?" He mumbles, before being hugged tightly.

"I'm back Ren," You say, voiced muffled because of his hoodie.

[Kusumi and Enomoto look at each other before giggling and turning away from the affection you're giving their grade captain.]

A/N: THIS IS ADORBS! LOVED WRITING THISSSS HHHHH I truly truly hope that you all enjoy reading this as much I as I loved writing this!!! (I might start writing for enomoto and kusumi, they're so so so so cute, i just wanna bite them-)

[preg-canis-limus]

"C'mon, arms up puppy."

I raise my arms. I'm far along and have been complaining about the weight and pressure. My belly was so full of life, and my tits so full of milk; the sheer pressure was getting to me. Kicky babies pound my sides, causing ripples along taut skin. You said you'd give me an inspection. A check-over to see how I'm doing; if the strain is enough, we might have to induce labor.

Another kick forces another sad whine from my throat. I looked pitiful, really. My belly swollen with your litter, veiny and dark. My tits were sore from the milk. Tearful eyes cast down as I pleaded with whatever divine being could hear me for the pups to be out soon. I was big, sore, tired, and overdue.

You paced around me slowly, thoughtfully. Kneeling down, you put cool hands on my overheated skin, making me moan at the slight relief. You rubbed over my belly, fingers tracing skin and stretchmarks. To my dismay, a part of your inspection was pressing on my belly to test the pressure. I groaned as your hand moved all over, pressing on it uncomfortably and rousing the babies.

"There there, pup. I'll be done soon. Just keep those arms up, ok?"

I'm a good puppy, so I let out a huff and bear it. Keeping my arms up, you move to my swollen tits. Your hands, now warmed, grope and squeeze, pinching at my nipples, which bead white at the tips.

"Good... good." you say under your breath. Your eyes stare heavily and intently at my gravid form.

Your hands then wander, down my back, over my legs and thighs, reconvening underneath my swollen stomach at my cunt. You keep one hand on my lower back as the other combs through my bush to reach my wetness. While still not in the most comfortable positions, I can't help but feel aroused at your hands wandering over my sensitive parts. And speaking of sensitivity, I'm very responsive as your hand teases me. Swollen and wet, my arms tremble and falter as your fingers press into me.

Before they can completely lower, your hands leave by cunt. "There you go, puppy. See, that wasn't too bad." you reassure, rubbing my back with your dry hand. "I know it hurts, but you're not ready yet, sweet pup. You're gonna have to wait a little longer."

My eyes tear up, and I break out into a fit of whines. Please, it's so heavy, and I'm so full. I don't think I can take much more. I'm crying and whimpering and getting fussy. You maintain this almost sadistic sense of calm and just rub my back, voice almost condescending now. "Oh, I know, pup, it hurts, doesn't it. Wanna push all those little babies out. But you're gonna have to wait, pup, I know you can handle it. Such a brave puppy." you wipe my tears away. "No more of that now, you'll be fine. Owner knows whats best, after all, remember?"

[steviewashere]

Baby Blanket

Rating: General CW: Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abandonment (as I think that's what it would technically be even if Steve is an adult at this point) Tags: Post-Canon, Future Fic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Sick Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington Has a Complicated Relationship With His Mom, Baby Blanket, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Eddie Loves Him So Bad, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Sad Steve Harrington, Cuddling & Snuggling For @steddieangstyaugust Day 15 Prompt: Childhood (apologies that I'm late, but this idea hit me very last minute on the 15th, oops!) Also, I didn't mean to describe Linus's (from Peanuts/Charlie Brown) blanket, but I sorta did?

🌡️—————🌡️ He’s careful about inserting the thermometer into Steve’s mouth. Even as the aforementioned guy coughs around it, jostling the little glass thing, nearly knocking it straight back down to the floor. But he’s prepared to keep it from crashing this time. No way is he going out to the store—again—to replace the damn thing.

“Breathe slow through your nose, sweetheart,” Eddie breathes, demanding lightly. “I know it’s hard to do right now, but we won’t get an accurate reading if you spit this thing out.” He cups his palms under Steve’s chin just in case, all too riled at the thought of having to be the catcher on the field. But it just ends up being a precautionary thing—as Steve, though rolling his eyes, does exactly what he’s told.

It’s a slow going process. The mercury inside working up, up, up as the time ticks away. A minute passes and Eddie knows that Steve is suppressing coughs. His eyes have gone watery and his cheeks, already flushed, glow a deeper and brighter terrible red. There’s got to be a huge wad of snot stuck half past and around the block in his right nostril, the feeble attempts at sucking in air are just that—feeble. And the deepest tell to Steve’s state is the awful, wet, raspy rattling croaking from his chest.

Inwardly, Eddie raises his fist at whatever god allowed the creation of the flu virus. And he shakes that fist for causing that damn virus to spread.

His watch beeps, two minutes up. And he gently pries the thermometer from Steve’s overly moist mouth, unlocking the hacking of his lungs, and the spray of his spit, and the miserable attempts to cover it all up with his elbow. Not like that would do anything, Eddie bitterly thinks, I already had this shit last week.

103 degrees Fahrenheit.

“Shit,” Eddie mutters. He sets the thermometer onto the coffee table. Reaches out for Steve’s shoulders and forces him back down onto his right side—half flopped already on the sofa, just needs to get his legs tucked back underneath him. And he pets a shaking hand over the exposed, goosepimpled, and overheated skin of Steve’s bicep. Usually, this muscle tank he’s got going on would be hot, but now it’s just…bleh. “Listen,” Eddie whispers, “if your fever doesn’t break by tomorrow morning, I have to take you to the hospital, okay?”

Steve gives a weak whine. Eyes closed, mouth twisted, shivering. “I don’t wanna,” he petulantly protests; but that’s not going to work on Eddie. Not this time, at least.

“I know,” Eddie murmurs, “I know, baby. But I’m serious this time. You’ve already been sick a while longer than I have. And you’re shaking like a leaf. And though you finally were able to keep down some crackers and soup—and water, thank god—you’ve barely had anything to eat. I’m just”—he sighs—“I’m worried, Steve. I’m worried this is something more than just the average flu.”

Another weak little sound, this time something like a sniffle. And when Eddie gets a clear look at Steve’s face, no longer buried into the soft throw pillow under his head, his heart begins to fracture. Tears streak Steve’s already ruddy, terribly warm cheeks. And his lips are quivering. And his eyebrows are quirked in an uncomfortable twist.

And Eddie hates this.

“Baby?” He calls to Steve.

“S-sorry,” Steve chokes out, “I don’t feel good.”

He brings his hand off of Steve’s bicep, instead cupping the back of his head. “Okay,” he softly says, “you don’t need to be sorry, baby. But thank you for telling me how you’re feeling. Can you tell me what doesn’t feel good? Maybe I can help fix it?”

For a long moment, Steve doesn’t say anything. Instead, he gets the last of his tears out of his system, lets Eddie hold him along his greasy hair, and continues to shiver through his whole body. Finally, he whispers, “Can you stay and…can you cuddle with me?” He doesn’t look Eddie in the eyes when he requests it. Doesn’t dare drag his sight off the loose threads of the throw pillows, strings that Eddie promised he would sew back straight when they were both feeling better. Steve takes another raspy, deep breath that physically pains Eddie to even hear. And then he tacks on, softer than before, “My mom used to when she still loved…” He sighs.

There’s not much to say to that, other than Eddie immediately and already agreeing. Because a cuddle with his boyfriend is as easy as breathing air for him. But they still haven’t touched on the sore subject that is Steve’s parents. Or Steve’s childhood, for that matter.

It’s not like there’s much reason to. Not when they’ve got a life outside of Hawkins now and have their own apartment and Steve hasn’t spoken to either of his parents in roughly three whole years. Not when they’ve learned to take responsibility for each other—both in the duty of making sure the other is safe and healthy, and in the sense that without the other, one of them just wouldn’t be. And it’s never time to talk about Steve’s parents when all they’ve done is push him aside, leave him second best to their work and social lives, and when they finally paid attention—they realized that having a certain type of kid (a word that they don’t repeat, an f word) hindered all the “work” they’ve done for the family they have.

Not that they’re family.

But they tried to act like one at some point.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, “let’s get you to our room, okay? You want me to get anything else before I slip into bed with you?”

Again, Steve takes a moment of silence. Then, “I stole one of my mom’s blankets when we moved in here. It’s in the hall closet. Can I have that?”

“Yes, baby. What’s the pattern on it?”

Quietly, Steve answers, “My baby blanket. The blue one. It has my name embroidered on it.”

“I’ll grab it, I promise. Now, let me get you to bed and I’ll be with you in just a second.”

He easily and carefully picks Steve up from the couch. Not exactly light, but not heavy either. And shuffles the two of them down the hallway to their bedroom. Tucks Steve under just the top sheet, no comforter. Pushes hair away from his forehead and back behind his ear. Leaves a little kiss to his right cheek, the heat radiating onto Eddie’s lips.

Then, Eddie grabs what he needs: an ice pack from the freezer, a cold bottle of water, the container of cough syrup, and some Tylenol. It’s the baby blanket that’s harder to get. Not because it’s buried in the back of the closet. And not because it’s simply not there.

But it’s the way it lays between Eddie’s hands that really gets him.

It’s a pale blue. Something close to periwinkle. Has a light layer of fuzz and lint, as if it’s hardly been washed over the years. Too precious of cargo to run through the washing machine, and too hard to take away for a hand wash when Steve probably needed it all the time. The edges are frayed—strings loose, some of the stitching completely missing, a few tears that would never be sewn up to the original corner it’s meant to be. There’s a couple small stains on it, most likely from being dragged or even dropped in dirt. In the bottom right corner of the fabric is a name embroidered in off-white floss: Steve. Though, upon closer inspection, it appears one of the letters is missing. The only thing left in its wake is the shadow of what should’ve been an ’N.’ Like maybe it had been altered at some point.

The size of the thing pulls at Eddie’s heart strings, too.

Not a big one—like the quilt his mama made when he had turned three, though it wouldn’t fully cover him until he was ten (when she wouldn’t see him use it, but he tries hard not to think of that. Tries.). It’s not medium, either. No, this baby blanket is the perfect size for a baby; a newborn baby.

Underneath Eddie’s right index finger, he feels a soft tag on the back of the blanket. And when he flips it over, he spots exactly that. A tag. Not with care instructions like some of those store bought blankets—pre-determined with a name. No, it’s a screwy kind of tag. Made from obvious silk, scrap fabric, off-white, too, but yellowing from old age. And in a black, inky scrawl, it reads:

‘For you, my little prince. For my heart. I love you always. -Mommy’

And he didn’t want to cry, but he’s close to bursting with the need to. So, he shoves that little bit of emotion back inside, puts the blanket in the crook of his left elbow, and carries his haul back to their bedroom. Where he finds Steve in the same position: curled up on his left side, hands tucked under his chin, legs bent and ankles crossed, the top sheet pulled all the way up to his wrists, eyes glazed and looking at the empty left spot of the mattress where Eddie should be.

He puts the ice pack on the back of Steve’s neck, even if he’s met with a slight hiss and a half-assed wriggle away. But, thankfully, the fight can be put off because Steve stops trying to get away. To that, Eddie internally relieves a sigh. Twists the cap off of the bottle of water, but places it on Steve’s bedside table for him to reach later. The cough syrup and Tylenol go to Eddie’s table. But the baby blanket goes immediately to Steve, who takes it with quick, healthy movements.

Eddie can only lay himself under the top sheet, melting and softening at the sight of Steve bringing the blanket up close to his face, tucking one of the torn and frayed edges to his bottom lip. He runs the old fabric on his dry mouth, almost like he’s smearing kisses along the thing.

“Thank you,” Steve tiredly breathes.

Laying on his right side, Eddie has full access to Steve from where he is. He reaches out a gentle hand to the side of his boyfriend’s face, caresses his skin tenderly, and then pulls him close between his shoulder blades. Not quite tucked into Eddie’s warmth, but enough that they could share body heat. But he does tangle their legs together, just to give them contact, just to satiate some of what Steve needs.

Steve scoots even closer, though. Closer than how they should lay considering he’s got a temperature that nearly warrants a hospital visit. But Eddie lets him lay his head on his shoulder. Lets him puff warm air onto his neck. Lets him take.

“Eds?”

He hums questioningly.

A hard, yet slow intake of breath. “I miss my mom,” Steve admits quietly. So quietly, Eddie almost doesn’t hear him. But he does. Damnit, he does. “She’s not a bad person. She’s not…she’s not what my dad made her to be.”

“I know,” Eddie can only say, “I know, Stevie.”

“She love—s me.”

Eddie throws his left arm over Steve’s waist, brushes his hand over the small of Steve’s back. “Yeah?” He asks softly.

“Mhm,” Steve answers, “I know it.” Eddie can just feel the tickle of the baby blanket brush him. Like it’s being pulled even closer. “She made this for me. And she…she used to tell me stories. And she took care of me when I was sick.”

He has to bite his tongue, even as his fingers betray him—as they squeeze Steve at the utterance of those words. Because he knows better than to point out the ‘was’ in those sentences. He knows better than to make a point that Steve’s mom hasn’t even bothered to try and keep contact. Even when she was given a phone number—“For emergencies,” so Steve had said.

Though, that makes Eddie wonder if it was for emergencies at all.

Makes him wonder if it really meant, “Call me every once in a while. Don’t be a stranger.”

He can’t tell Steve, delirious and sick and sad Steve, that his mom is effectively a stranger now. Can’t do that. Can’t be the one to tell him that his mom is basically dead. And the evidence of that is her absence.

He can’t do that.

“Oh, she loves you so much, baby,” he lies.

Steve nods. His hair scraping the underside of Eddie’s jaw, dirty and heavy and prickly. “She does,” he agrees. Then, he goes silent again. His fingers running over the blanket, feet rustling under the top sheet, skin on skin, nasally breaths through a stuffed up nose. 

“Doesn’t she?” Steve asks later, quiet and low. Unsure.

🌡️—————🌡️

[yan-randomfandom]

Kid!Stanley Pines & Kid!GN!Reader

Poor Stanley,,, why is his backstory so sad? This is where MC saw Stan and decided to cheer him up.

🍦

The moon emerged from behind the clouds, casting its light on the entirety of New Jersey. It peculiarly chose to shine on the Pines twins who were standing outside their lawn.

Ford frowned at Stan's crumpled sign that hung over his neck. Extra Stan, for three dollars or better offer, seriously?

"Are you really sure you'll be okay? I could help you sneak in after midnight, you know."

Stan tutted dismissively, waggling his index finger. "Tsk, tsk, poindexter. It's almost like ya want me to get in more trouble. Forget about me! I'll be fine, I swear."

"Ugh, I just wish Dad hadn’t done this," the former muttered, draping a blanket over the latter's shoulders. Ford looked into his brother's eyes with worry. "But... I'm sure he doesn't mean it. Things are just—"

Stan turned away, brushing him off. "Yeah, yeah. We're poor and stressed and all that. Now, scram! Unless you wanna end up outside like me!"

"...Goodnight, Stanley," Ford sighed, reluctantly leaving him alone. A few more seconds and Stan listened to their front door get locked.

It's quiet now. Nothing but the hushed noise of crickets and wind. Stan sneezed, pulling his blanket closer to his body. He sat on the rough sidewalk; it was better than the ant-infested grass behind him.

Stupid dad, he thought as he lightly kicked the ground. Stupid school.

Stan couldn't stop the tears from pricking his eyes. This is so annoying. Can sleep just hurry up and take him already?

...

A small, but noticeable creak.

The boy whirled his head toward the next house in alarm, locking eyes with you. You stared back with wide eyes, one of your hands supporting your window.

As soon as he noticed you, however, you promptly retreated into the comfort of your dark room.

Stan scoffed, crossing his arms. Great. Now he had the crazy neighbor's kid judging him too.

Whatever. It should be fine. He only had to endure this for one more day.

His eyes closed, his head tilting to his shoulder as he drifted into dreamworld.

...

It's hot.

Stanley fluttered his eyes awake, only to shut them close again when the sunrays horribly blinded him. What a terrible way to wake up...

He felt his dry tongue and cursed under his breath. While rubbing his crusty, sweaty face, he paused at the sound of bells harmoniously ringing.

There's an ice cream truck that was parked many steps away from him. Turning his head, he saw it had just one customer— you. He accidentally made eye contact, then quickly flashed you a smile before looking away and using his blanket to wipe the sweat from his face.

Ugh. This is awkward.

And the heat is unbearable. He needed shade.

...

Footsteps.

As Stan glanced at the ground beside him, he watched as an elongated shadow slowly grow taller by his sitting figure.

He turned and blinked at the sight of you offering ice cream. Your shadow comforted his overheated body even for a moment.

"Hi," you said. "This is for you."

Stan's gaze flickered between you and the ice cream. It was his favorite flavor. "Huh?"

Your hold on the treat slightly loosened. "Oh. Do you not like this? I think I've seen you eat this somet—"

"If you insist, thanks!" the boy snorted, swiping the ice cream away from you. He felt nothing but utter relief when his tongue tasted the cold.

Quietly, you sat down beside him, sparing a small gap between you two. Weird. He kind of expected you to leave right after that. One thing's for sure though—Stan couldn't handle sitting in awkward silence.

"Y'know, ice cream for breakfast is an interesting choice," he remarked, leaning toward you with a curious look. "I feel like it'd be better for dinner. And I'm pretty sure that it's still really early."

You fidgeted with your ice cream cone. "Um. Yeah. It's around eight."

"Eight?!" Stan squeaked, his eyes bulging. He’d normally still be asleep at this hour. It was completely off his sleep schedule. Aside from school— but it's Sunday! "Why are you here, then?!"

A smile curved your lips. "You slept outside. I just wanted to keep you company."

"We're not even friends," he pointed out.

"I want to be," you murmured, looking away from him.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." You modestly took a bite of your cone. "I said I bought you."

"Huh?!"

"Your ice cream costed three dollars."

"It did?!"

...

...

...

Ford stared, astonished, at the sight of you and his twin sleeping next to each other. Your head rested on his shoulder, while Stan's head nestled on yours. Both of you breathed gently as you snoozed.

[hectorthedoggo]

I will put this in ao3 and edit when i have the means to. but. @kani-miso it's 0009 sibs i thought of you and decided to make this 🎀🎀

UPDATE I ACIDENTALLY DELETED THE TAB WITH MY EDITS AO3 is going to kill me

“Alright. Milgram's up.” The creature stayed. Es stayed frozen from where they were sitting on the couch. Oh God. What's the consequences of my verdicts?

Wait. Up? This is Trial 2?

They disregarded that. It must be a mistake.

If these verdicts even are mine, I can’t tell. I've been dreading this. I'm scared. They clutched their arms, trying to gain some warmth, some friction, for what was to happen next.

Jackalope narrowed his eyes at them. “A nervous one, aren't you now. Anyways, so since the administrators decided that you were too unstable, you'll go free. Congrats.

Oh yeah, and the verdicts didn't really have consequences, it was just a little social experiment. It doesn't matter. Good luck surviving in the real world!”

What. What the heck is he talking about? “Wha- What do you mean- Who's the admin- wah!”

They felt a pulling sensation, and suddenly, they were standing in a Walmart™ parking lot. The only other person nearby was Mikoto Kayano.

But, nobody was dead. He was in his original clothes, but. Wait, where are we? What's this big sign that says ‘Walmart’?

What is a Walmart, and where the hell did Milgram go?

They also had a little pack with them, and upon opening it, there was a little message printed out. Nothing else.

‘mikoto is your legal sibling btw. gl lmao be glad I even gave you this note ur probably my favorite warden - Jackalope (professional child neglecter)’

At least the pack looked cool looked cool…

Es was about to have a mental breakdown. Why did Milgram leave me like this? Is this what I am to them?

“Woah, what happened?” Mikoto wondered, “Hey, Es. Did you do this? Is Milgram over? Did they identify it to be a mistake?”

They started shaking. They threw me out like garbage. I…

“Es?”

They sniffled at the situation. I’m… garbage. Because, as my usual logic says, I am what Milgram deems me to be.

“I- I have no idea…” they extended the last vowel to emphasize how little idea they had.

They threw the note on the ground --- or at least tried to, it just flew away, right into Mikoto’s hands ---, and started to sob.

The tables had turned. Mikoto looked like he knew why he was here, Es didn’t (nande boku ga koko ni iruyo). It was genetic.

Meanwhile, Mikoto had gotten the note, and he read it. “Wh- huh?”

He stared over at Es. “Es, this is a mistake, right?”

“That is the least of my worries right now, pudding boy!” they snapped at him, instead channeling their sadness into aggression.

He completely disregarded their feelings, to the point where he might not have even heard them. “Right… my mom did mention that our father got remarried. Wah, Suu! You’re my little sib!”

He went up to their grieving form, and gave them a little fistbump, lifting up their unwilling arm to do so. Why did he do that? Last time we touched, John was beating the shit out of me.

A random car pulled up into the Walmart™ parking lot, and the window unrolled. 

It was a woman with brownish hair, who looked like Mikoto. “Oh, you’re the other sibling that your father was talking about. You two can just get in the back in the car, your sister’s taking shotgun. Nice to meet you!”

Why the fuck does Mikoto’s sister have a shotgun? Are they all like this?

Mikoto followed in with them, and buckled in. Es had no idea what was going on.

They could not find the seatbelt, too busy processing the upheaval of their life in the past 5 minutes.

“Yo, sib. The seatbelt’s over there.” Mikoto smiled and gave a thumbs up, like a reliable older brother. “I saw it.” I did not see it.

They touched it, and got stung by the heat. Their, wait, no, Mikoto’s sister turned back at their sound of pain, turning off her phone. “Ah, yeah. It’s summer, don’t touch it.”

They scowled, forgetting their dread in the face of the overheated car seatbelt.

The car chimed, and the keys jingled. “Alright, folks! You two seem pretty tired from wherever the heck you disappeared to. Would you wanna go home, or get some ice cream?”

The sister turned around, and smiled a little wide. “My dear siblings, do you know the answer? There is a correct one.”

Es scowled. “What the fuck is an ice cream. Why is the cream ice?”

“Are you serious?” She scrutinized their face, finding the truth, “Step on it, Ma.” She went back to her phone, probably texting her friends about this weird kid in a warden outfit that was apparently her sibling now.

Mikoto looked over at Es and shrugged, like a comical cartoon character. Like a ‘what can you do?’.

I won’t allow these insolent- wait, these aren’t prisoners. Unless the sister girl did something with that shotgun of hers. It would run in the family, I guess.

Wait, that would mean that I’m also violent. Nevermind.

The 11th cell came to mind, and they dismissed it. Wrong kinda fic, buddy. We staying fluff here.

“So, Mikoto. And, what’s your name?”

“Es. I think?”

The woman put on her strict mother voice. “... okay. Mikoto and Es. What was so important that you had to completely disappear for like a years. No note! Job gone! You could’ve died, for all I knew! Es, sweetie, I’m sure it was Mikoto’s fault. He’s such a bad influence.”

Es raised their hand to ask a question, slightly flustered from the pet name. She indicated that they could speak.

They decided to just reveal it all. “Um, Mikoto committed murder… eh, Mikoto, he has DID and was stressed from his job, hence the murder. And I was the warden of the prison that held him and 9 others.”

Mikoto lost all of his composure at all of his darkest secrets being revealed, the dramatic guy he was. “What… Es, don’t… I… that’s not… I don’t have DID? I was doing… I was doing just…”

He seemed a little overwhelmed at the prospect of having to unpack all of the luggage that Es laid out, so another guy came out. “I am not straight. Oh- sorry, hi, I’m John. I’m the guy who totally committed the murder 100% trust guys c’mon vote mikoto innocent 2024-”

I already had to deal with that yapping last interrogation. Es shut him up with their hand. He waved it away. “If you’re gonna say that shit about Mikoto, Es hasn’t been going to bed at a healthy time or eating healthy.”

They were betrayed at his reveal. “I can’t believe you.”

“We’re going to fix that, Es. You’re going to get the regular kid treatment.” The mother nodded, eyes steeling. Oh no, not the normal teen treatment!

John had some other stuff going on behind there. Maybe Mikoto’s cheesiness had rubbed off on him. “As soon as we get out of this car I’m giving you a hug.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Yes.”

Speaking of unwarranted physical contact. “Oh yeah, mo- Mikoto’s mother, um… John beat me up in Trial 1.”

“SNITCH?!”

“What’cha gonna do about it?”

“Give you another hug.” He deviously grinned, knowing that wasn’t the answer they expected or an answer they liked.

“I won’t allow it.” But, they weren’t the warden anymore. They couldn’t deflect affection as well as they used to.

The sister was unbothered by this discourse. Perhaps it hasn’t quite set in. “I guess I got two extra surprise siblings. Cool.”

-

When they got to the ice cream store after a prolonged amount of awkward silence, the moment the car doors opened, the chase was on.

Es nearly ran into oncoming traffic to escape any chance at being loved, as one does, but John grabbed them and lifted them up by their elbows, giving them a hug once they were out of the street.

“Jeez, you’re light. C’mon, we’re getting ice cream and you aren’t gonna kill yourself.”

“‘M not!” They kicked their legs to try and get the man off of them. But, they had about the strength of a 5 week old kitten compared to him, without the claws.

He plopped them down, Es seething about their lack of power they had here.

The sister turned off her phone, finally, and turned to Es. “Okay, I just wanna make sure. Were you joking earlier about not having ice cream before?”

“I’m the prison warden of Milgram, I don’t need-”

She interrupted them before they could start monologuing and crying about how Milgram didn’t exist anymore. “You’re getting Birthday Bash.”

“What- but it’s not my birthday?” It could be, for all I know, but she’s doesn’t have to know that.

“Ok, what is your birthday?” Dammit.

“Great question!” Es stared into space, tone full of sarcasm. Milgram never tells me shit.

“Mikoto or whoever the hell you are, do you know their birthday?”

“Nah.” John responded. “By the way, um, this kid was the one who named me John, because they thought it would be funny to be a know-it-all and reference some English name.”

She looked over at Es. “No offense, but you suck at naming. I think we were all thinking that.” We…

Es tried to defend their horrible naming skills. “What?! Who else was gonna name him?”

Mikoto’s mother decided to join in the conversation, but left after putting her two cents in. “Me. Or Mikoto, since he’s where John came from.”

John smirked. “See, Es! But the name has stuck, so you owe me.”

Es crossed their arms, huffing. “I don’t owe you anything. You beat me up that one time, so if anything, you owe me!”

He couldn’t exactly find a defense for that, so he took their hat off their head and held it as high as he could reach, exposing their hat hair. “Hey!”

They jumped to get it, but to no avail. They looked pathetic.

Meanwhile, Mikoto’s mother and sister had already gone in to order. Order, like what a judge says?

It’s all a law reference.

John grinned. “You're a silly little creature, Suu.”

“You're not Mikoto, stop that.” I do not like that weird ass nickname.

He put on an innocent face. “What do you mean? I'm Mikoto, and I love my company so much! Hahaha, I would never commit murder. This must be a mistake!”

Es was somewhat surprised. “That's stuff he actually said in his first trial, how did you get it so accurately?”

“I hear this guy's internal monologue.”

That’ll do it. “Ah.”

 He threw their hat into the air while they were distracted, and they stepped back in surprise. He caught it. “Nice hat.”

“Get away from-”

The rest of the family brought over ice cream, and Es was handed a mash of colors in theirs that seemed unnatural.

“Is this food?”

“Eat it.” John asserted.

They shrugged. If this is poison, at least I don't have to worry about Milgram and all that stuff.

Worst case scenario, it doesn't kill me and it tastes bad. I'm not sure what my best case scenario is. Dying? It tasting good? We’ll see.

They bit down on the food with aggression, and it tasted… amazing, other than the fact that it was cold.

“What the heck is this? In a good way?” They temporarily forgot about their slight suicidal ideation.

“Bro has never heard of the wonders of overly processed foods…” the sister commented, smirking.

Why is she calling me bro? Huh? If I question her, will she bring out the shotgun? I'm scared of her. She’s my older sister now, isn’t she…

To be honest, Kotoko was scarier. I’ll be fine.

She wasn’t addicted to her phone, though… wait, right. Kotoko kinda was.

They grinned, and momentarily forgot their troubles in the face of their action. I’m so much better than these people. This tastes good. Mmm… ice cream… I like it…

They did get a brain freeze, and brought their hand up to their forehead in pain.

They got their head patted by John, who had somehow consumed his (larger serving of) ice cream. “Do you want the rest of that?”

“Yes?” They answered.

He grabbed a spoon, and took a bite of their ice cream. “Wow, this tastes nice.”

Es disliked the younger sibling experience. “Give me my hat back. I didn’t forget about that.”

“No.” However, he made a mistake: it happened to be in grabbing range. They quickly snatched it, and grinned in pride.

But, while they were distracted with John, they forgot about their other older sibling, who took a sizable amount of their precious ice cream.

I just discovered ice cream. Will they stop stealing it?

-

They were next in a car, making sure to avoid the seatbelt this time. About ⅓ of their ice cream had been usurped, and they didn't have the strength to defend it.

But, it wasn’t that bad. These people are nice…

I… I guess this is my life now? It’s not that bad.

Finally, there were no catches to this fact.

They would have to buy new clothes, the warden outfit was scratchy.

[s-wave-entertainment]

Okay I'm doing it I'm making that long-winded post about N-

Your honor, this boy never Actually Wanted to kill.

Now for most of you, I'm sure you already knew this. It's not all too hard to perceive, seeing as we've really only seen him in full blown kill mode twice, and there's a hypothesized good reason for the first and an ACTUAL good reason for the second. But I'm making this post anyway because this little murder robot has a heart core of gold, and he makes me so fucking sad sometimes so I just have to scream about it. MOVING ON:

Exhibit A: The Landing

Both times we see N in full blown (worker) kill mode* were in the pilot; once when he first landed back at the spire and attacked Uzi, and the other when he raided the bunker pursuing her. I'll refer to the first time here as "The Landing (TL)." In this sequence we watch him slam down onto the ship, finish off the oil in some poor sap's head, then attack Uzi as soon as he realizes she's there. What's my reasoning for this? Hunger.

N says, a little more than 3 minutes later, that he kills for one of two reasons:

1) If he doesn't, he dies.

2) It's his job, and he wants to be useful.

Now take this next take with a bit of salt, as it's completely headcanoned, but I personally think that N dislikes hunting as a whole. Despite his desire to be useful, it still means he has to kill - which I think if he CAN avoid at a given time, he will. Thus, in my opinion, N only hunts either when J forces him to, or when he knows he's at risk of overheating. Overheating does shit to robot brains, as we saw with Uzi in episode 4, so if N was out HUNTING - which he does when he's close to overheating - when TL occurred, it's only NATURAL that he sees a worker in his space and his first thought is "kill." He was ALREADY in hunting mode - I imagine it doesn't just "turn off" the second they satiate the initial urge. If it did, that wouldn't work too well for The Solver, now would it (yes I know that when the Earth AND the gala massacre occurred none of them had any jurisdiction over their bodies/actions, but the Solver openly admit to allowing them to keep their personalities, and knowing N I think the whole "killing for sport" thing doesn't work too well with his)?

So of course he attacks Uzi - he was likely still hungry, and hungry means risk for overheating, which can translate to death. I will admit, he did seem to toy with her just a little before going for the kill, but actually I think the whole "throwing her across the area with his tail" was more to disorient Uzi, as from the dodge he had just witnessed her perform could signify to him that she's more competent in a fight than the first appeared, even disarmed. Thus, the need to both injured and discombobulate her arose. I'll talk more about N's fighting style in the second incident here:

Exhibit B: The Bunker

Now the bunker has a different reason altogether: protection of his fellow squad mates. Don't believe me? I was hoping you'd say that:

He only goes AFTER Uzi after he realizes that she's made off with the weapon that took his head off. Yes, she missed and he was able to regenerate, but if Uzi had hit just a little bit lower, she would have hit his core - which would have permakilled him. Surely realizing this, he runs off and attacks the bunker with what given reason?

It wasn't about him. It was NEVER about him. It was about V. He wanted to keep HER safe, he wanted to make sure Uzi wouldn't shoot HER with that gun. Now, why all the unecessary carnage then? In THIS case, I think he defaulted to wanting to be useful and thus making all of the kills that he did. Though, it could also be argued just as fairly that he was consuming so much oil/matter to ensure that if she DID shoot him again, he would be able to get back up faster. The gun has a cool down, yes, but I don't know if he knew that. Or if he did, he couldn't have known that it only lasted for 30 minutes. Now about that fighting style I mentioned - this is why I think the reasoning here was purely for utility: N appears to have a very cut-and-run fighting style. If he has a choice, he doesn't prolong his kills - the first guy he stabs through the chest then immediately takes his head off, the second dies via missile, the third N just tackles and kills himself (we only hear the guy scream fir a second before N is seen drinking oil from his neck, which leads me to believe that the death was quick), and Braxton dies via super accurate cutting-you-in-half laser (which was probably meant for Uzi, but he couldn't see them when he fired as he was too busy drinking, so he probably just latched onto the voice that he heard and fired). All deaths which were extremely fast and without any toying, despite the multitude of weapons used. Now to me, this implies that he has a style, and he sticks with it. And that style is just to /get the damn thing over with./

And that's it! Those are the only times we see him in worker kill mode. Now we do see him switch into a "general" kill mode when he takes "Tessa's" head off, but it's pretty plainly obvious that that took every ounce of his mental strength to do. I mean shit, he basically collapsed as soon as it was over and didn't regulate until Uzi took his hand. Now I guess it could be argued that that was "his friend" so of course he's more hesitant to kill her, but I think part of the reason it was So Hard is because he ALREADY doesn't favor killing, and now he has to behead the only human who ever showed him any kindness. AND THEN IT WASN'T EVEN HER, SO-

And don't bring up the episode 8 fight - OBVIOUSLY he's gonna fight to kill, he's recovering the memory of everything this thing has done to him and now he has two new motivators: love, and WRATH. I make exception for that fight because quite frankly if he WASN'T fighting to kill at that point I would be worried. Though I do wanna bring up that he was very obviously conflicted about the whole thing. And before you argue:

Even against THE SOLVER ITSELF, he was still incredibly conflicted about killing. Again, that used to be his friend (and is wearing the SKIN OF THE ACTUAL HUMAN HE THOUGHT HE KILLED NOT EVEN A CANON 20 MINUTES AGO FOR THEM), but even still, my earlier point of "already doesn't favor killing, forced to kill" still stands.

In conclusion - your honor, N is a sweetheart. Always has been, despite everything he's been forced to do. And the amount of guilt he probably feels for the oil (and blood, now that he remembers that) on his hands is probably so, so much. Too much. Why do you think he copes with repression and positivity?

*"Worker Kill Mode" specified because I acknowledge that he kind of has two kill modes - one where he's in control and one where he's Not, as the Solver's puppet.

[sof1eee]

"I'm so sad my favourite character didn't get enough screentime!"

Oh yeah? well my favourite characters are either dead, overhated, underrated or all of the above 💔

[stellarfractal137]

(first time doing it)

J x DD reader(male if you ok), after episode 8 comforting her. T_T i feel sad for her fr

J - You're safe now

Type: Oneshot

Genre: Reverse comfort

Notes: I found this idea super cute, and not gonna lie, I feel kinda sad for her too, I think she deserved better. Like, she literally doesn't appear after Cyn's fight (from my knowledge). Don't worry it being your first time because this is also the first time I did comfort stuff. Also, I didn't know if you wanted headcanons or a oneshot, so I went with a oneshot as it felt more natural for this. Anyways, hope you like it and that's it.

After the events of the fight with Cyn, with you siding with Uzi, you went flying to search for J since she was missing. I literally just noticed that she just falls into a hole and never comes back.

You went down a hole close to where you last saw her, and found her sitting and hugging her knees with her eyes widened.

"Are you okay, J?" You asked, with genuine worry, as you went up to her.

"W-Where's Boss?!" She asked, looking around, trying to see if she's close.

"Um, she kinda..." You paused a bit as you got close to her, trying to look for the right word. "...died?"

She looked at you in pure shock, not believing your words.

"She died?!" She got up quickly, but then suddenly made one of her arms into a blade and pointed at you, making you step back defensively. "That's a lie! Boss would never die! S-She can't..."

She looked a bit sad, not believing the possibilty that Cyn's dead after being basically enslaved by her this whole time. You just put your hand on her blade, pushing it out of the way, with her not even reacting to it.

"Well, don't ask me how it happened, but yeah, Uzi killed her." You tried to reassure her with a soft smile.

J just silently retracted her blade and fell down on her knees.

"S-So, it's over?" She asked, looking up at you. "It's all... finally over?" You kneeled down to her level, with her eyes following you.

"Yes, it's over now." You said, slowly hugging her.

She slowly hugged you back, her head over your shoulder and her yellow visor taking the form of crying eyes.

"I-I'm sorry..." She suddenly apologized in a low voice. "I'm sorry for taking her side."

"It's fine, J." You tried reassuring her. "You just thought it was only choice." You started slowly rubbing her back to hopefully calm her down. "But it's fine now, you're safe from Cyn, you can relax."

For a while, you kept rubbing her back as she silently let you, until she spoke up.

"Will you guys... accept me into your team...?" She asked with a bit of hope in her voice.

"Well, I don't know about the rest but at least I'll accept you back and I will make them accept you." You said with a half hearted chuckle, hoping she'll laugh too, and she did slightly that.

"T-Thanks, I guess." Her voice was still low, but it was noticibly better. She pulled away a bit from the hug, but still hugging you. "I think I'm fine now."

"That's great, J!" You congratulate her. "Do you wanna go back to the surface now?" You asked and she nodded. "Alright, then. Let's go."

You slowly pulled away from the hug, both of you getting up. You turned around and opened your wings to fly away, but suddenly J grabbed your hand, making you retract them and look back.

"Really, though, thank you..." She looked a bit ashamed to say it, looking down like she just lost her pride. "I-I think I would just give up and die from overheating if you didn't come for me..." She hesitantly admited. "So, t-thank you..."

"Awh, J," You smiled at her, knowing it must be difficult to say this. "That's the nicest thing you ever said to-"

Suddenly, J turned her other hand into a blade and pointed it at you.

"One word of this gets out and you're dead, got it?!" She had an angry and serious face while saying it, making you chuckle a bit.

"Alright, I get, you're the boss." You chuckled softly a bit more, and for one more moment, J slowly gave the most sincere smile she ever did.

[furiousgoldfish]

On effortless recovery (personal)

I've been slowly dealing with cptsd and osdd for the last 8 years, and while I've had to actively work on some stuff, other have just happened without my interference, or at least, without me knowing I did anything about it. I have not been to therapy; or rather, there's been several attempts that were not working, and I had to end them. For instance, I've had therapy with someone who showed next to no interest in my issues and kept minimizing and ignoring whatever I've been saying, and this was the only person who didn't try to institutionalize me.

I've had to actively work on osdd, and it's something I'm learning about, and understand more as I go, but I also get that osdd is making everything else much easier on me. For instance, lots of my memories and thoughts are being blocked from me, and contained in alters who are making sure that I'm not affected by it, that is a huge help. Lots of thoughts that would upset me if I thought about them, are completely out of my reach, and if I do try to think about them, my mind goes blank and I forgot what I was thinking about. That's a great help for issues like anxiety and spiraling; I used to drown in my own fears and worries; now I just can't remember any of it. It is slightly depressing that my own peace of mind requires that big amount of amnesia, but you know, having some peace is so nice I could never be anything less than grateful for it. Being able to maintain some semblance of peace feels like resiliency, it means I have a place of quiet where I can go back to, even when distressing things happen.

I'm having my chronic pain and chronic exhaustion ease away from me very slowly. I still get exhausted easily, and am tired way more often than a regular person, but I now rarely get days when I can't get out of bed, or have to sacrifice a whole week due to a flashback or a nightmare. I no longer get anxious about planning to do something a day or two ahead because I can count on having at least a basic amount of energy. I don't think I've done anything to create this, it was just happening over the years, on its own. It's also happening so slowly that I don't even feel the progress, I have to remember to look 3 or 5 years back and remember just how much time I've been spending in bed then, to realize that it's less now, that I can do multiple activities a day now. I know I'm extremely lucky to be recovering from this, because there are people who have a chronic condition that doesn't allow for recovery, and I am very grateful for every day I can move around.

Another thing that is much better is sleeping! I used to wake up feeling like I'm dying, overheated, stressed, anxious, sometimes even paralyzed in fear, and if not fear, then grief would hold me down and I would be too sad to move. Now I'm finding myself waking up thinking 'Oh I'm so well rested! I have the energy to tackle some chores' like I'm in an actual good mood. And it's like ??? what is going on, since when is this me. I've been dreaming of having mornings like this, and now I have them, and it just happened over time (8 years) I still only think about doing chores when I have energy, because I know it's the only time of day I'll have any energy, so if I wake up restful I will rush to do dishes, laundry, cleaning, cooking, and whatever else, because I know the energy will go away later and I will become a sad slob. But it's much better than waking up and having to take a few hours (or days) just to recover from sleeping. My sleeping schedule has been 8 hours all along, I somehow can't sleep over the 8 hour mark, and can't function if I sleep less than 7.

I will still sometimes have flashbacks and meltdowns if anything bad happens to me, but the recovery time from them has gone way down. It used to be weeks, months even, to recover from a single bad event. Now it's more like hours and days. It's still not very similar to what I think a regular person would have to deal with, but I love the progress very much! One thing that slips my mind is that I regularly forget how much worse things used to be. If I bounce back from something, I forget that in the past, this would ruin me for weeks, and I forget that this is progress and to take a minute to acknowledge that. I just take what I can and go. But it's good to look at it and see that life is a little easier.

Some anxiety has also withered away from me, because so much of my anxiety was due to inexperience. New problems that would appear in my life seemed unsolvable and catastrophic, because I never faced those problems before, didn't know how to solve it, didn't dare to ask for help, didn't have skills or knowledge to tackle any of them myself, and all of it felt like it would lead to my doom. After already having solved some of those problems multiple times, I'm at peace just because I know what to do now. I haven't done much asking for help to be honest, because I hate it, but in struggling to solve the problems myself (sometimes taking months and years to do so), I've gathered knowledge, skills and experience, and I now have a general idea of what to do in situations that reoccur, and also know what to expect, how long something will take, what type of action will resolve it. Just living and tackling things by myself, and succeeding, eases a lot of anxiety. There is a solution to everything, with sufficient knowledge, experience and skills.

A lot of stuff that's previously been bothering me to the level where I couldn't deal with it, can now be dealt with merely distracting myself from it. Which I think is very funny, because I used to consider all my time playing games or looking at funny videos 'procrastination', because I wasn't being productive right, I was just 'procrastinating' and delaying dealing with life. Now I value these activities specifically because they can save me from feeling miserable and sad. There's a warmth to looking at people being goofy, funny, interesting, entertaining, and taking joy in it, and reminding myself there's still a lot of good things in the world, there are good people, there is warmth, there is love, and I feel better after seeing it, regardless of how awful I felt before. Having my own thoughts redirected to something hopeful is making my days better, more stable. I think I'm just stopping myself from spiraling into hopelessness, by looking directly at hope and staying fixated on it for long enough. And it's something I didn't previously value as a real activity, because I didn't believe that making myself feel better while producing nothing, was a worthwhile pursuit.

Being safe from abuse for a long time managed to erode the feelings of guilt and shame I had in my own interests, thoughts and activities, and I've became unafraid of any failures. It is now very clear to me that failing is the only way towards learning and it's incredibly valuable. I'm shameless at starting new hobbies and activities and it does not bother me whatsoever when I do badly. Even failing at big stuff in my life, things that created actual damage to me, supplied me with knowledge I don't think I would otherwise gain, and I treasure it. I don't feel ashamed or like I've done anything wrong. I've been able to engage with my own curiosity about things and I'm now able to ask questions about anything, without feeling bad for 'not knowing already'.

I've also accepted that I'm bad at some stuff, and it doesn't mean anything much about me, we're all bad at something. Sometimes I'm bad at stuff, but enjoy doing them, so I still do them, fun gives it good value! And if I'm both bad at something and don't enjoy it, then I completely drop it, and feel okay knowing this just isn't for me. I remember when I used to believe I'm bad at everything, just because I was getting such horrid feedback on it, now it's almost funny. I like stuff I create even when I do them badly, because I remember how much fun I had doing it. If I want to do them better, I know I just need to keep practicing and it will happen. Nothing a human creates is shameful, especially if it's not causing any harm to anyone. We're made to create and it makes us happy.

I don't think I've done anything specific to create these changes, maybe some critical analysis of the past, and some willingness to consider my own happiness important and worthwhile. I think I spent so much time grieving that I've actually processed the most of it, so I'm no longer as overwhelmed by it as I was before. It's not like I'm no longer sad, I will start sobbing frequently and whenever I'm tired, I am automatically miserable. But it is no longer constant, suffocating feeling that follows me for every second of existence.

I haven't done anything to fix the sleeping or to ease the chronic pain, that was just time and being safe from abuse for a longer period. I wanted to write this specifically because I've been waking up feeling okay the last few days and that was a shock to experience, what a bliss to wake up and think 'I'm well rested'. Incredible life experience.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 32)

Uzi was working on her railgun again.

With Tera now being in a toddler body, she didn't need to be charged throughout the day anymore, once, during the night would be enough. Giving her time to work without worrying about toddler injuring herself while connected to her.

One of her eyelights were closed and her tongue was stuck out in concentration, screwing in one of the thousand capacitors lining the barrel if the railgun, it was a time consuming process, but one she easily lost herself in.

While her workshop was technically set up in the other room, she found herself wanting to be as close to her weird family as possible, besides, the dresser made for a decent desk anyway.

She'd… had strange impulses lately, they weren't bad! Not violent, just intrusive. Like for example, she had found herself wanting to groom her little toddler, yes, like a cat. Not with a brush like a normal drone. Or, possibly more strangly, she was waking up making weird noises; trills, chirps, purrs, and borderline mewls.

Thank Robo-God N was a heavy sleeper, or she was sure he would have been woken up by them.

Tera herself was laying on her back on thier bed, N beside her trying to teach her how to use her new body.

“Tera, like this!” He slowly moved his arm up and down, lifting her arm along with it, she blinked at him, as quiet as she was when she'd gotten her new body a few days ago.

“It's so weird… having her so quiet.” N sounded sad and worried as he continued to hold Tera's tiny arm, the only indication that she was present was the movement of her eyelights.

“I know… I had to force her mouth open to feed her last night, I can't really tell if she's upset or not.” Uzi replied, she paused her work for a moment, feeling just as worried but being unwilling to stew in it if she could help it.

She'd never heard of any body transfer resulting in paralysis, but Tera hadn't moved at all since they'd brought her back home, her eyelights were expressive, but her body was eerily still.

“Maybe your dad has some advice? He's the only parent we really know.” N suggested, resting his head on his arm as he continued to try and stimulate Tera's limbs, moving them up and down and trying to trigger some kind of response.

Tera only continued to stare at each limb as he moved them, although her eyelights indicated she was a least smiling, even without moving her mouth.

“Come on Tera… give daddy something… anything.” He spoke under his breath, finding worry tightening around his core, he wanted her healthy, he could hear her core still, a strong constant thrum that assured him she'd not go offline anytime soon, but he wanted her moving, to run around and explore.

She still looked too much like a corpse for him be comfortable with.

“We can go ask him, just lemme use the last of these, I've only got like, ten more.”

“Okay!”

“You hear that Jellybean? We're gonna go see grandpa.” He spoke to the still toddler, which looked up at him with scrunched eyes in response, he booped her visor, causing the eyelights to shake as if she was trying to shake her head.

She closed her eyes in strain again, her mouth twitched but didn't move much further than that, everything just felt too stiff, her eyelights turned into slight frustration.

“Well That's that box out… we're going to have to go find more.” Uzi rubbed the back of her neck as she leaned up and away from the dresser, a dull ache running down her spine, before blinking in confusion.

Her neck was warm.

She wasn't close to overheating, at least, she shouldn't have been, considering she'd just drunk some oil about an hour ago and she'd never really let herself get low. But somehow she was warmer then usual, closer to how warm N usually ran than her normal ambient temperature.

And that was… weird and concerning.

“You good?” N was very suddenly behind her and she about jumped out of her casing at his voice, she looked up at him, blinking.

“Yeah. Just… think I'm running a little warm?” There was no point in hiding this information from him, if he hadn't already noticed with his own sensors, then he would the next time he made contact with her.

“That's weird, I've seen you, you've been keeping yourself fed.” N moved from behind her to standing in front of her, holding his hand on her forehead, much like a human would when checking temperature.

“You are warm though, did you pick up a virus or something?” He suggested, moving some hair out of the way of her visor as he looked down at her, seemingly just reveling in the excuse to touch her.

“I don’t think so? I don't feel that different.”

“Hmm.”

N suddenly was on his knees, audio receptors pressed against her hoodie, right over her core, she squeaked at his sudden movement, breath caught in her throat.

“What are you… doing?”

“Listening to your core, my hearings way better than yours, maybe I can listen and see what's wrong.”

“O-okay.”

N listened for about a minute, listening for any differences in the sound of her core that he could perceive.

It sounded normal, maybe a little faster than it should be, but if she was stressed about it that would make sense.

“Perfect as always, but if you don't feel well I can go myself.”

She blushed a little at his complement, and then blushed harder as she thought more about what he said.

“As always?”

“I can always hear your core if you're close to me, I uh…” He paused and leaned back a moment, blushing deeply. “I kinda have trouble sleeping if I… can't hear it.”

“Oh N…” She certainly wasn't expecting that, but maybe she should have at this point.

“Sorry, that's kinda cheesy isn't it?” He laughed at himself as he stood up, not making eye contact as he stewed a little in embarrassment.

“Yeah. But don't you dare apologize for it.” She leaned up to nuzzle into his neck, a purr erupting out of both of them that was so intense it was vibrating them both.

N let out a happy chuckle, lifting her up into his arms to bring her closer, making both of them somehow even louder.

“What's gotten into you?” He found himself asking as he felt her tail wrap around him, as she moved farther into his neck.

A strange sound replied, a mix between a purr and growl that sent input directly from his neck into his core, his tail wagged in response, right before he felt a pinch on his neck.

“Uh… Uzi?”

“Huh?!” She immediately pulled away, blinking wildly, her eyes went to his neck, where there were two small pinpricks where her fangs had dug into the metal, already being sealed by his nanites.

“Did… did you just try to bite me?”

“I-I didn't… I'm sorry!” He was still holding her but she looked both horrified and embarrassed.

She… she'd hadn't been trying to hurt him! She'd just felt so loved and had been overtaken by just how… nice it felt. She hadn't even realized she'd been doing it!

Why did that translate to biting?

“It's okay! It didn't hurt, but… why?”

“I don't know!”

He cocked his head, confused but not upset. The pinch had startled him sure, but it didn't seem like she'd been trying to hurt him, it had almost seemed… affectionate in a strange way.

“Lets just… head to Khan’s yeah?”

Next ->

[chaysreality222]

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🌌 𝐈 𝓢𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓𝓔𝐃 𝐎𝓝 𝓐𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝓔𝐍𝐓 𝓐𝐆𝓐𝐈𝓝 🌌

hi guys <3 this is gonna be a bit of a short post. i just wanted to catch you guys up since i've been on a little shifting break! i did shift on accident again, and i wanted to talk about it before i forget to lol.

so before i had went to bed, i was watching videos that had popped up on my fyp that had pertained to the topic of shifting. those type of posts give me so much motivation. it got me to think about shifting and my drs, which was so refreshing since i've been taking a little break from it all.

don't flame me guys, but every night i sleep on ft with my bf ❤️‍🩹 i was asleep and had woken up to check my phone to see if the facetime was still on and it was. i went back to sleep, fell into a dream, and had woken up again.

but, this time i checked my phone and saw the facetime had ended. my phone was initially off (but even if its off i can still be on the facetime) and so i made sure to check in the top corner if i was, and i wasn't. i was lowkey sad, but decided to just go back to bed. then, i woke up again and felt my phone was overheating under me. i quickly checked it and i found i was on the facetime??? that's when i noticed that i had shifted to a reality i wasn't on the facetime, and when i fell back asleep i shifted back to my original reality where i was.

i know for a fact it wasn't a dream, i don't even have to question it. it was in fact real. i can feel my blankets laying on top of me, the bed beneath me, the cold air from the ac blowing into the room, and my hand gripping around my phone. even the feeling of flinching from my phone screen because of the brightness. i was there for like, 4-5 minutes.

2 points for random realities, 0 points for my actual scripted drs. i just find it so funny that it happens when i'm on a shifting break. it's probably a sign i need to get back into it <3 happy shifting!

xoxo, c!