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metranart · 1 year ago

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Mikey x Reader x Draken (Tokyo Revengers)(Part 6)

⭕️ Visit my PATREON LINK for some spicy Tokyo Rev NSFW art and exclusive smut fanfiction.

Warning tag: obsessed! Mikey, possessive! Draken, naive! reader, threesome, violation of trust, dubious consent, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, teenage craves, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, pussy eating, love confessions, cock-drunk, boys trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, sleeping! reader, gang stuff.

The water is already steamy, and both boys itch to fulfil their next fantasy. They know it would take time to have your full and undeniable consent and approval.

The duo also knows this wasn’t the best path to win you over but now that it's done, there’s no way back and letting you go isn't even an option.

“N-No.” your defiance is intoxicating for some unknown reason.

“No, huh?”

“Yes, I said no.” You don’t let the shake in your voice manifest.

Meanwhile, the heat emanating from the shower starts to create a cloud of steam and being the only one with clothes on, you can feel the fabric beginning to stick against your skin.

You don’t know how to be shameless regarding nakedness like them. As if they didn't care if someone else saw them…. Even as if they've seen each other naked a million times, and then, it hits you.

“—Since when are you together?”

Mikey hums, pensively, “We know each other since we were just your height, little one.” The blond openly jokes, and you can hear Draken snickering.

“You are like one inch taller than me—”

“You’ll do good to remember that.” Mikey keeps teasing, sassy grin curving his lips.

Fed up with his antics, you stop tip toing around them, and aim for a punch under the belt.

“Your boyfriend is being an asshole, Draken.” You spat, venom dripping from your tongue, crossing your arms in front of your chest a tense silence floats for a second too long, and it pops like a soap bubble when, they burst out laughing.

“She is at us, baby.”

Draken says between laughter, and you can hear his equally annoying buddy, clap a hand at his knee while holding his stomach, letting the laughter slowly die down.

“(Y/N)—you perspicacious little thing…” Mikey chuckles out, and cleaning the remnant of tears from his eyes, shakes his head, “of course, Draken and I are a thing.” The short blond unashamedly, admits.

“…Lover?” you murmur and quickly correct, “—boyfriend!”

“The first one…” Mikey replies, unconcerned “and the second one—” continues, your mouth opens but he keeps going, “and… the third one.”

Confusion reflects on your features and is quick to add.

“He is mine—” easily claims, “the same as you are.” Shrugs his shoulders, unworriedly looking through your shoulder at Draken who plainly grins.

“You can’t own a person…” you hear yourself whisper.

“Sure, you can!” he boasts, “as long as he owns you back—” Mikey explains, standing up from the toilet lid to take a couple of leisured steps towards you “… and I promise you…” the bastard towers over you, even when he’s just a bit taller, “Its. Fucking. Fulfilling.” Closes the distance with each word until is face to face with you.

The whole room begins to feel cramped; you feel like an animal inside a cage and sensing your weariness, Draken pats your shoulder, lightly.

“You must be suffocating in so many clothes—you’d better take them off.” He suggests, previous warning buried under layers of patience.

You hadn’t even noticed that you were profusely sweating, Toman’s uniforms are not for hot weather … or, rather for steam baths.

The fabric adhered to your skin feels awfully uncomfortable and soon the discomfort is so much that you don’t see another option. No doubt that damn Draken did this on purpose, smart little bastard.

“—Could you turn around?”

The request leaves your mouth out of your control and to your surprise, both comply.

They turn around without saying a word, and you stay still for a moment before starting to undress. You know it's silly because they're going to have to see you eventually, but being granted this small favor makes you feel a little more in control.

“Ready?”

Mikey asks, since the noises of clothes falling to the ground stopped being heard, and you sigh heavily before answering.

“I would feel more comfortable if you let me bath on my own—”

“We understand…” the ghost of a smile hunts your face for a brief moment when Mikey seems to yield “—but then who would wash your back,” but then he adds, wiping all mirth from your features right away, fake concern tainting his sarcastic tone, “or clean behind your ears…?” Draken joins following his lead, and you can hear the smirk on their faces even when you can’t see it.

“—Does messing up with me bring you guys any kind of twisted pleasure?” you ask, making sure they notice your contempt for them, “or is it part of your supposed unconditional LOVE for me?” Your blatant mock makes you feel pleased when they don’t reply immediately.

Finally, some payback, you think, but you couldn’t be more wrong because you just gave them the excuse they’ve been looking for, since the three entered the bathroom.

“She still doesn’t believe us, Kenchin.”

Mikey groans, stretching his back soundly, like subtly reminding you how strong they are compared to you.

“I heard—” the dragon tattoo owner replies, “and it breaks my heart.” Draken sighs, yet it sounds false and combing his blond hair back, stresses.

“Sounds to me like it’s our sacred duty as her irrevocable boyfriends…” makes a meaningful pause for you to witness him slowly turn around to look at you while spelling the next words, “—to remind her who she belongs to now.”

Fear melts your satisfied grin into pure despair and taking a step away from the intimidating tall blond and his dark promise, your naked back bumps against a solid chest.

“I agree, baby...” Mikey´s voice sounds closer to your ear, “now (y/n) … It’s your decision how this will happen…” the Toman leader explains, pressing his strong chest flush against your bare back, resting his chin on the curve of your shoulder to spy your reactions, “… we can be gentle and sweet, or NONE…” putting a lock of hair behind your ear, pecks your cheek, gallantly and finishes, “your move.”

A loud breath tells them that you are getting awfully nervous, your gaze desperately searches for a way out, and they only follow your line of sight, yet don’t attempt to move. Until you try to take a step forward and as if in chain reaction, Mikey’s arm encircles your waist and Draken closes the distance, only leaving a centimeter of air that prevents your breast from colliding with his.

“I—…I believe you!” you lie, “there’s no need—”

“Nop.” You feel Mikey´s lips glued to the shell of your ear, “Just decide.”

You hate being put in these scenarios, and you hate more that you are so afraid of them that you prefer a known devil, than a devil to know. So, disgusted by your next words, you shamefully reduce to play they little sick game of power.

“Gentle.”

Both boys' smirk, wildly. Without a doubt, you are beginning to be trained to comply, and that pleases them very much, so much that they are going to gift you an extra special, session.

“Smart move.” Draken praises, “of course, she´s our smart girl.” Mikey complements.

Is the last you hear before been push under the hot water jet, the sound of the water lapping at your skin drowns out every sinful moan you try so hard to bit back as their naughty hands and thirsty mouths, explore your curves without restraint.

Trying to keep your legs closed is useless as teaming up, they spread them, effortlessly, losing all sense of composure and frantically both drag their fingers among your slick folds, enticing you to follow their euphoric pace.

You can´t swallow the heavy moan that breaks your composure, and Draken presses his lips to the line of your jaw, you instantly go rigid at the gentle kiss, making you wonder how someone who looks so dangerous can be so mellow.

“I know it´s only being a night since,” he whispers against your skin, fervently, maneuvering your palm to wrap around his warm, thick cock. “But don’t you ever stop us from touching you again, (y/n).” He groans and aids you to give him a good, rough squeeze, so he can slowly start to thrust his hips into your clenched fist.

“Fuck—that´s it.” He moans hoarsely, “keep going—Don´t s-stop...” your hand moves erratically, not sure how to please him and not sure if you want to keep going, when Mikey urges you to continue by wrapping his hand among your fingers, “Like this, Babygirl, Draken likes it when you pamper the head...” and following his instructions, you brush your thumb along the tip of his cock and Mikey hums approvingly when his bestie´s body jerks with it. “That´s a good girl.” The shorter blond praises, letting you keep going on your own.

Meanwhile, Mikey’s hands attack you gliding over your wet skin like a snake, caresses with a smooth continuous motion, insistently pursuing the curve of your breasts, squeezing hard enough for the plump flesh to spill among his fingers while his hard cock smears against your bottom, letting you nestle it between your butt cheeks, praises of how good your being falling from their mouths like water from the faucet.

“Be honest with us, (Y/N),” Draken gasps, growing harder and harder in your hand, “at some point —Fuck....” his breathing stutters, “—this scenario had to cross your mind… at least once….”

“W-What—what scenario?” you murmur, overstimulation making your speech drag, for Mikey is unable to stop playing with your hardened nipples, “don´t stop—” Draken groans, and you begin to stroke his throbbing length up and down in time with his euphoric thrusts.

“You guys are not my cup of tea...” you drag out, between pitiful whimpers and Mikey barks a humorless laugh before reply, “what's not to like, babe?... To me, you sound outstandingly pleased.”

“—Being fucked… without my-my consent—by two abusive gang members w-who won’t take no for… an answer?” how the fuck do you find the words to entice them even more is beyond them, but you do, “… and you ask—...what's not to like?”

A crude chuckle quakes Draken’s chest with blessed amusement and he press soft, open-mouthed kisses along the heaving curve of your neck, letting his warm tongue come out to taste you and slowly disentangles your fingers off his length, for your attention to be solely on Mikey, who reaches one of his hands down to gently cup your cunt.

“It’s not ideal, of course,” Mikey admits, mindlessly and you gasp at his blatant honesty, hand in hand with his working fingers on you, “-we are not some stupid gang members who don't understand anything,” his words are being muffled by your skin when his lips trace your shoulder, “we also understand that what we did, has consequences—” he agrees, and you realize why he´s one of the most respected leaders among the gangs, “but everything has a solution... if you accept us as yours.”

You groan deliriously when his digits scissor your sensitive cunt. “We´ll give you anything, sweet girl.” A ragged gasp tears through your throat and his back straightens, proudly at hearing your melodic orgasm rip out through your convulsing frame. “Thats it —” he breaths against your ear, “... that orgasm was nothing compared to what awaits you, if you say YES.”

Collapsing against Mikey´s body, he all too pleased holds you, lifting you a little off the floor, patiently waiting for your legs to work again.

“There is nothing you can do—to make me say yes...” you strive for your voice to sound firm but fail miserably, even so, the message is sent... “—nothing.”

“Well, that was disappointing...” Mikey slumps down a little, “but hey! this was my first attempt to woo you—” Oh my God, they had to be kidding... “I'm sure the others will be successful, and soon you'll come back to your senses, ain't that right, Draken?”

Draken nods, “—but that doesn't mean we can't help her to cope, Mikey,” he adds, wickedly.

“Ain´t you smart, baby…” Mikey praises his lover.

“Just...this time... let ME set the tune—” Draken calls dibs.

“By all means, Commander.” Mikey concedes.

Your sarcastic comeback catches in your throat as the tall blond, invasively slides his palm between your buttocks, and his thick thumb breaches the sanctity of your ass.

You raggedly gasp, stunned by his audacity.

“—Don´t...!”

“Shhh... just relax and let me work you.”

Your body fills with wildfire, ladling heat into your lower tummy. The sensation is genuinely mind shattering, no one has ever done something like that to you... not even yourself, the discomfort is too fleeting, only remaining a feeling that you cannot describe.

Your eyes shut tight as your mouth forms an “o” shape, but no sound comes out, and Mikey takes advantage of the moment of blindness to slide his fingers inside your tired slit, thumb designated to your clit, making lazy circles over your vulnerable bundle of nerves.

“It feels—I feel...w-weird,” you gasp out, swallowing thickly and reaching your hand out to rest along the smoothness of Mikey´s neck. He noticeably leans into your touch. “Relax, baby, just let him work.” He advices reassuringly, peeking down at Draken pumping his thumb, in and out of your virgin ass.

Your fingers squeeze gently, ranking your nails among the wet skin you can find. “...I don´t think... I can handle—”

“Sure, you can—” Draken is swift to interrupt you, thick fingers abandoning your spasming asshole to brace you up into his arms, you manage to stay remarkably still for someone who is being forced to straddle and present its ass out.

“I think she´s as ready as she will be.” Mikey suddenly says, speaking to Draken while ignoring your constant pleas for them to stop. “I guess, it´ll hurt,” Draken´s sigh presses against the side of your face, and glimpsing Mikey´s furrowed brows, hurries to add “—but just for a second before she stretches.”

The skin of Draken´s back feels feverishly warm under your fidgety palms as his toned muscles periodically flicker and shine under the slippery gush of water.

“Hold on tight to me, (y/n).” Draken instructs, sliding his palms from your thighs to your ass where he parts your butt cheeks for Mikey to dip the head of his cock inside your butthole.

You have to bite down on your lip, hard and harder, when Mikey suddenly impales you to the hilt in one swift roll of his hips, splitting you wide open in one single sharp thrust, which drags a pitched scream out of you and a highly pleasurable and long grunt, out of him.

“Oh my—….FUCK!” he blasts, out of breath “Oh my fucking god,” his head falls back, gasping deeply.

“...That good?” Draken wonders, firmly holding the sides of your thighs to keep you sprawl, Mikey nods.

“I´m gonna—make her milk me ´till she burst,” Mikey mutters raggedly, before setting a brutal pace, your moan piercingly loud, forcing Draken to cover your mouth. “Easy there, gorgeous, we don't want the whole brothel to wake up,” Draken says, and once he sees your brows starting to smooth again, he takes it as his cue to massage your ass before burying himself inside your cunt to the hilt. This is too fucking much. Your body is reaching a point of overstimulation you had never experienced before and noticing your slitted, crossed eyes, the sub-commander takes a long stilling moment for you to accommodate and enjoy the way you feel so asphyxiatingly tight around them, thanks to how well both are filling you.

“Thi-This...This is definitely it, Babygirl, you are so... so PERFECT.”

“She´s doing so well,” Mikey´s eyes remain tightly shut to be able to last, the slapping of his grinding hips against your ass a constant sound among your pitiful whimpers. “I’m so fucking close,” his voice sounds annoyed, “this kitten´s reaaaaally squeezing down on me, good—Fuck.”

“I know—...Ngh! So, fucking cramped-…. this cunt is...—driving me nuts.” Draken’s long, and awfully thick, every thrust of his fat cock nudges against that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

You feel them sync up, and suddenly each thrust is appropriately devastating to your inexperienced body, not a trace of pain left, just the feeling of being impossibly stuffed. Your mouth drops open, and your eyes roll to the back of your head when Mikey sinks his canines to your shoulder. “M cumming,” and, bites hard to prevent the loud growl when he spills his seed inside you so fucking violent, it makes his legs almost collapse under his weight.

“´Yo still with us, Mikey?” Draken barks a laugh when his leader slumps down into the solid ground with a maniac grin stretching his lips like a wild man. His back continues to rise and fall with quiet, unsteady breaths, clearly passed out from overexertion. “Oh my god... oh my fucking God, Kenchin—...I'm going to burst into happy tears, man.”

“´Yo kidding, right?” Draken reaches up and takes one fistful of your hair to lean your face to his, but you are already half-way numb, and groaning a little, he keeps fucking you, steady and slow.

“Then, you call it a day.” Draken hurries to ask his fallen comrade, hips never faltering, your legs limp at each side of him.

“I, fucking, am—” Mikey grunts, too pleased with the experience to even care.

“So, do I have green light to: do whatever the fuck I want with our kitten?” he smirks, slowing down for a second to rub your back, affectional.

“Sure, man, fuck her stupid... stupider, if that’s even possible.”

Mikey enjoys the show from the wet floor. Draken gives your ass a hard slap which makes you wince out of your numbness, and throws his head back in ecstasy, allowing your gummy walls to embrace him at its fullest.

“’M about to find out.”

COMING SOON PART 7....

⭕️ In my PATREON LINK you will find NSFW art of this chapter and more spicy Tokyo Rev NSFW art and exclusive smut fanfiction.... Plus 'Spicy Foreplay tier reward' like: voting poll privilege for the exclusively Patreon one-shot stories where you can choose the couple pairing and kinky mood for the story and NSFW art, along with some naughty animation like THIS ONE ....and my eternal and vast gratitude for your support!!!

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ebonystarfall · 11 months ago

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Ink!Peng x a reader who was also part of the brotherhood?

Like reader had a similar experience as Macaque and just ran

But Peng was surprisingly attached to reader

So the scroll taunts you about that through Ink!Peng????

Idk this is weird and I’m sorry 😔

A Cursed Taunt

Ink!Peng x Ex-Brotherhood!Reader

Created by: Starlight (Owner 2)

Type of content: Oneshot

Pov: Second

Word count: 652

TW: Mentions of almost getting impaled, Ink!Peng is a fucking sour lemon towards you, taunting, reader doesn’t speak (I apologize).

A/N: I absolutely adore this idea, thanks to anon for suggesting it! Definitely feel like Ink!Peng would blame you endlessly, asking why you left them. Also @starbeamssovereign I know you said no angst...but dearest please give me the option to do so :(

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

A shaky breath escaped your lips as you clustered with the remainder of the crew. Yet, despite your apprehension, your gaze was drawn to the protective curse, its ink shifting and morphing into myriad fantastical creatures. You observed the pilgrims, their discontent and ire manifesting in heated words, glaring down at you all in disgust. Then, your eyes fell upon the Brotherhood. Yellowtusk, once a formidable demon with a gold heart, now bore a gaze that bespoke a fierce desire to strike you from where you stand. You had abandoned the Brotherhood during the assault on the Jade Emperor. Such a betrayal was unforgivable. You were branded a coward.

Yet, an all too familiar voice caught your attention, making you separated from the group. You stood paralyzed in astonishment as you confronted Peng. The birdlike demon emitted a bitter laugh, their glowing blue eyes fixing you with a malevolent glare. No, you could not succumb to this illusion. It was merely the scroll's curse, merely an ink demon, not...not your friend. You tried to seek out MK, or Mei, or anyone who might aid you. But in the newly revealed clearing, there was no one present save you from Peng...or rather, Ink Peng.

“Ah, if it isn’t the cowardly little y/n, even worse then Macaque. Unlike that pathetic rat, you didn’t even join the battle… were you already adamant on leaving the Brotherhood? On leaving me?”

They swung their ji at you, the blade narrowly missing as you leapt aside. They scoffed, using their talons to pin you down, mocking you with cruel laughter.

“Oh, I’m just quivering in fear by you, all mighty and powerful. You didn’t even feel the need to fight! Do you see yourself as better then us, darling?”

You felt the air constrict in your lungs as the ink demon pinned you down. Their talons, though appearing as liquid ink, felt unnervingly lifelike and sharp. You wished to retort but chose to hold your tongue as you looked up at Peng. The inky bird demon grumbled at your silence, releasing you and striking you with their wing.

“You must’ve really lost your power. So pathetic, I swear…” they had scoffed, poking you lightly with their ji.

You rolled your eyes in irritation, attempting to swat the weapon away, only for it to dissolve into ink and then rematerialize as Peng lunged to strike once more, halting a mere instant before impaling you. They laughed, seizing you by the chin and forcing you to look up at them. “You abandoned us to our fate, never once trying to save or free us. Free me. I believed you considered me your… 'best friend.' Clearly, you do not deserve that title at all, little bug.”

The ink demon version of your old comrade suddenly tightened their grip on your chin, then rested their inky yet feathered head against you, giggling mischievously. Their ji remained pointed directly at you. If they pressed just a little too hard…

“Oh, you don’t plan on fighting back? Hm. I should strike you where you stand, stupid worm, if only you hadn’t left me….”

You looked back with a mix of remorse and anger. You yearned to despise this distorted version of your comrade, to push them away and return to your new friends... but the strange warmth emanating from their inky feathers gave you pause. You allowed them to lean on you, even though you were perilously close to being impaled and killed.

This moment with Ink Peng was abruptly interrupted by a loud yell. You presumed it was Mei, slashing her way into the clearing with a new sword. You stared at her in astonishment, even more so when everyone else rushed toward you. But when you turned back to look at the bird demon... they had vanished, as if the protective curse from the scroll had never been near you at all…

#lego monkiekid x reader #lmk x reader #writers on tumblr #lego monkie kid #lmk peng #peng lmk #peng x reader #peng x reader lmk

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speaker-of-the-void-cats · 2 years ago

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A strange device shimmered into existence around them. They looked up the length of an enormous, golden spire. “It whispers,” said Tazaroc. “Then block your ears,” said Ozletc. “Do you see the potential in this?” “Chaos,” said Niruul. “No,” said Ozletc. “Opportunity. See how it tugs at the fabric of our time? Can you see the seams?” The seams were sewn tightly shut, but a skilled hand could find them. A skilled hand could rip every stitch. All three sisters could feel it.

Drifter walked to the central spire and put his ear up against it. “This core…” he said, leaning close. His eyes darted back to Osiris. “It’s whispering.” Osiris’s expression didn’t change; his arms didn’t uncross. “We’ll seal the core away. I understand the ramifications.” “Good luck keeping that contained. Not something I would bargain with, hotshot.”

Do you know the OXA Machine, Guardian? Psions are adept at overcoming the restraints of linear time. The Sundial is a dangerous tool in their gnarled hands. Take it back.

“It is so clear,” said Niruul, reverent. “An unobstructed glimpse into what was and what will be.” “Not the troubled ramblings of a mad thing, like the OXA,” said Tazaroc. They shared the feeling of unbounded possibility, and tasted the potential for success, and then for failure. Together, they drank the feelings in and steeled themselves against them. “The past and future are at our fingertips, sisters,” said Ozletc. “Let us see what prospects they hold.”

Hmm, there's only one data artifact here, labeled "OXA," and it's seriously corrupted. Metadata says it was last accessed by an "Otzot" centuries ago. What is "OXA," and who is "Otzot"?

[u.2:11] We live too long for regrets. You taught me that. Don’t forget the House of Light. [u.1:12] If I can find the time, yes. Not all of us conjure Echoes. [u.2:12] Reflections, Saint. I have no need for Echoes anymore. [u.1:13] What do you mean? What’s the difference? [u.2:13] One is a manifestation of Light. The other… reserved for Taken Kings. Better suited for traversing the Sundial because of what lies at its core. [u.1:14] One day you’ll have to tell me exactly what you and the Guardian did to bring me back. [u.2:14] We did what we had to. Trust me. [u.1:15] Now you sound like the rat. [u.2:15] No. The Drifter sounds like me.

I don't even know where to start. When we landed on Neptune there was something.... waiting for us. An alien structure. It's an electromagnetic anomaly. No mass, but a tangible surface area. It's like a thesis statement to the von-Neumann Wigner hypothesis. Its definitely paracuasal, like the Traveler. Maya calls it the Veil. She says she heard the name in a whisper when she looked at it.

There's an almost unreadable data artifact here, labeled "OXA." It's heavily corrupted, but I'm able to make out "MSund12" from the access log. What is "OXA," and who was "MSund12"?

The Red Legion have run amok in timelines across the past, present, and future of this planet. If you're willing to help, I'll arm you to smash the Legion and collapse the timelines they've created. You'll need my Sundial to do it.

The von Neumann–Wigner interpretation, also described as "consciousness causes collapse", is an interpretation of quantum mechanics in which consciousness is postulated to be necessary for the completion of the process of quantum measurement.

What constitutes an observer or an observation is not directly specified by the theory, and the behavior of a system under measurement and observation is completely different from its usual behavior: the wavefunction that describes a system spreads out into an ever-larger superposition of different possible situations. However, during observation, the wavefunction describing the system collapses to one of several options. If there is no observation, this collapse does not occur, and none of the options ever becomes less likely.

"The Odyle Xenotaph Anarchive. Sometimes OXTA, depending on how you construct the acronym. The alien oracle that led us to the graves of Aark." Must be wary, now. OXA is a Psion myth, and the Psions are a sensitive topic. My father wants to free them from bondage. "It claimed to record the story of the galaxy, and to prophesize what may yet come."

"A black box for galactic civilizations, if you prefer it in pilot's terms." The Evocate-General nods to the pin on my right pauldron. I am conscious of my shaved-down tusks, of the sores left by the fighter's interface. "The doomed and the damned left the record of their downfall in the OXA."

I must be calm. I must record my thoughts. Now I think of the OXA Machine, eternally lost and eternally rebuilt, passed down from civilization to civilization like a ship's black box. I think of the legends of the Hive King Oryx and his quest to pass into the Deep. I took that story as an allegory. I think I was wrong.

"It's stronger… the Veil's signature." Ikora's voice carries a hint of learned suspicion. "Ever since we recovered Titan." "That is to be expected," Osiris retorts, now within the weave of droning Strand surrounding the Veil. The room around them trembles. "When Titan was torn back, the Veil took notice. It seemed to recognize Titan's arrival." Ikora tightens her grip on the Strand thread. "We have the Veil, our Ghosts… what are we missing? If we decipher the connection between Titan and the Veil, that connection might be what we need to follow the Witness." "What of the worm?" Osiris asks skeptically. "Sloane believes she is our best chance." "You taught me the value of a backup plan." Ikora gives him a stern look. "Titan, Savathûn's throne world, every place we've found egregore… I haven't found the exact threads yet but pull one and they all seem to spin back to Neomuna. To the Veil." "You're getting ahead of yourself. Following some of my… less favorable tendencies. Nimbus says we must 'flow' to understand Strand; perhaps it is the same with the Veil." Osiris moves beside Ikora and reaches up, palm parallel to the threads drawn taut from Ikora's braid of Strand. "Sol remembered Titan, in a way. The Veil's signal spiked when Titan returned from memory to reality, when the rhythm of the solar system had been restored to order." Osiris drops his hand and looks to Ikora. "Perhaps we must simply find that rhythm before we are able to interpret the beats within it."

#trace the vermicular path #destiny 2 #destiny the game #destiny #the veil #destiny lore #veil interfaces #seek the whispers they are calling #the sundial #osiris #OXA #probably will be tidying this up and adding to it later

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astrangewoman · 1 year ago

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my first psychiatrist misdiagnosed me as bipolar (as well as an abundance of other things, some of which were correct) when I was 21, and he once recommended electroshock therapy if they “couldn’t get my mood swings under control” with medication. I was taking 14-16 different pills then. I was sedated from some of them, so he prescribed me others to wake me up. I was taking pills that made me shake so hard I couldn’t write, so he prescribed me additional ones to combat it. he fought side effects from pills with more pills. I couldn’t focus. I could hardly hold a conversation, much less retain anything. my cognitive abilities were completely shot. I was taking 900+ mg of lithium every night and 70 mg of vyvanse in the morning to wake me up and help me focus and 20 mg of adderall in the afternoon to perk me up when the vyvanse’s effects would start to wane.

I wasn’t bipolar.

I was a mentally and emotionally abused girl dealing with prolonged trauma, and I was reacting to triggers and boundaries repeatedly being crossed in a chaotic and unsafe home environment.

he was going to use electroshock therapy on me because he ran out of options when the myriad of pills he put me on weren’t shutting off my brain or my emotions like he wanted, like my mom wanted. she actually considered it, which felt like a betrayal because it seemed so unsafe and barbaric to me. (she never should’ve been involved in the conversation in the first place but my doctor always insisted that she sit in on our appointments. I was still living with her, and I didn’t know better, and I was afraid to speak up.) I actually considered it, even though it scared me terribly, because I didn’t know any other way out of my suffering that wasn’t final.

I took 900 mg of lithium every day for almost 9 years before I finally found a psychiatrist who recognized what I’d always suspected but was never supported. my brain will never ever be the same.

I think about that all the time. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it.

idk where I’m going with this or why I’m even sharing. it’s been weighing heavy on my mind and my heart this week, for some reason. the moral of my story, I guess, is to advocate for yourself. if something doesn’t feel right, speak up and get a second opinion if you can. I was unfortunately ignored and felt beaten down to a point where I just kind of accepted my diagnoses until I couldn’t anymore. my doctors (I left that one shortly after the electroshock suggestion) found a cocktail of medications that seemingly did the trick, and by that I mean my anxiety and depression were subdued enough that I could more-or-less function so it seemed like these doctors were on to something. until they abruptly stopped doing the trick. until I finally put my armchair research on trauma disorders to work and found a therapist who listened and who recommended a psychiatrist who understood.

I hate that psychiatrists are so expensive and that the “good ones” I’ve come across don’t take my (or any) insurance. I hate that mental healthcare feels more, and is more, like a privilege than the most basic human right. I hate that my first two psychiatrists only thought of trauma disorders in relation to military veterans and not abuse survivors (or any other way that trauma could manifest itself). I worry about the fact that my first doctor is primarily a youth psychiatrist because that means that actual children could be facing the same experience and misdiagnoses I was when I was seeing him. I hate that I feel powerless in stopping it. sharing my story helps make me feel better. I don’t know that it would or does make a difference for others, but I don’t feel like just writing this down in a private place just for me. I’m not afraid to be honest and speak out anymore, like I used to be. I’m not afraid of the boogeyman, no matter who he might be.

#personal #mental health

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fridaythe13ththeseries · 1 year ago

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Reflecting - Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

The trio had spent the better part of the night working over plans, plots and schemes, thinking up ways to get into Casares’ mansion, of rescuing Jack, retrieving the manifest and obtaining the cursed mirror. Many avenues were explored but, as the clock closed in on midnight, only one idea garnered unanimous, if unenthusiastic, agreement.

The plan was that Ryan would approach the house under some guise or another, possibly as a salesman, maybe even as a police officer. He would try to distract Casares and his henchmen, keep their attention off of the rear grounds. Ryan, now transformed back into his adult self, was the only real advantage they had, as he was unknown to Jack’s captors.

Micki and Johnny would attempt to get inside the house some other way and liberate Jack first, and the two items, if possible. Not the best plan, they all agreed, but they didn’t have many options.

The lateness of the hour forced them to put the plan on hold until the following day. Johnny decided it was best if he headed back to his place for the night, as they could all use some rest. He exchanged his good-byes, once more telling Ryan that it was good to see him back as his old self, and left the shop.

Once alone, Ryan and Micki went to the kitchen, which was located upstairs with their bedrooms. Micki put on a kettle for a pot of tea, a soothing nighttime blend. Ryan sat at the old wooden table, watching her.

While she busied herself with cups and saucers and spoons, he spoke up. “Micki, I’m sorry I abandoned you and Jack.”

Micki walked over to the table, placed a cup and saucer before both their spots and sat down, kitty-corner to Ryan. She looked at him and smiled. “Ryan, you didn’t abandon us. You weren’t given a choice, really, it was forced upon you. You had no idea what had happened, and there was no way either Jack or myself was going to let you stay here. It was too dangerous. Your,” she stopped, looking down at her empty cup, then continued. “Your mom showing up at the same time worked out for the best. She wanted a second chance at raising you, and you needed someone to take care of you, to keep you far away from here.”

Ryan was looking at the tea kettle, which was slowly warming. “I understand it all, Micki. At least, now I do. I have to admit, though, it has been a very confusing year for me. The memories I had, the nightmares, I was confused, to say the least. Now, it feels like a fog has cleared and everything has come into focus again.”

Micki moved her cup in circles on the saucer. Her voice very low, she said. “Does it make me a horrible person if I say I thought often of you coming back, of whatever happened to you being undone and you being yourself again, your true self.”

“Micki…” Ryan began, but stopped when she stood up and walked to the stove as the kettle began to whistle. She filled both their cups, returned it to the stove and sat back down, unable to look at Ryan.

“Micki,” Ryan continued once she had stopped stirring her tea. “That doesn’t make you anything but human. I missed you, too, even if I didn’t know why or who I was missing. I know that sounds weird, but the past year has been full of weirdness for me. Like I said, looking back on it, I feel like I had a “Get-Out-Of-Hell” free card that you and Jack didn’t get. While I was off going to school and reading comic books, you two had to keep searching for the antiques. That wasn’t fair to you.”

Micki looked up at him now, a small smile on her lips. “Don’t forget Johnny. He has been a big help to us since you, well, since you went away. He has stepped up and helped out, even though he didn’t have to. He’s a good guy, Ryan, really.”

Ryan just nodded, then sipped his tea. Micki did the same, and neither spoke for a several minutes. The peaceful company of each other, at long last, was enough.

Finally, placing his empty cup on the matching saucer, he looked at her again. “I’m sorry about everything that happened in France.”

Again, Micki disagreed with him, shaking her head as she spoke. “No, Ryan, you have nothing to be sorry about. That was all Asteroth’s doing. He was an evil man who obtained a horrible book that led him to do things no one should ever attempt. You weren’t in control of yourself, that I know. And look what you gave up? You lost yourself, your life, for over a year. And now…” she reached out, putting her hand atop of his on the table. “Ryan, I am so sorry about your mom. She loved you, and she was so happy to just get to be your mom again.”

Ryan nodded, looking down at her hand on his. “I know, I know.” he said, choking up. “And I mean it when I say I am going to make Casares pay for whatever it is he did to her. But even though the past year was confusing, I am glad I got the chance to reconnect with her. I guess that is the good I can take from the whole thing, right?”

Micki nodded and smiled. Her heart filled with love once more, looking at him here before her, the real Ryan, her Ryan, back to his old self.

Ryan smiled back. Slowly he pulled his hand from hers and stood up, retrieving the kettle from the stove and refilling their cups. “So,” he said, sitting back down. “Did I miss a lot this past year? You guys got tons of items back and stored them safely below, right? Piece of cake?” he smirked a little, hoping the words were true.

“Well, we did get a bunch of items back, but, you know.” she answered, again stirring the cream into her tea. “The manifest is filled with so many items still left to recover. So much still left to do. I hope Jack…” her words trailed off, her eyes lost in the swirling clouds floating in her teacup.

Now it was Ryan’s turn to place his hand over hers. “We’ll get Jack back, Micki. We will get him out of there, in one piece. And we will deal with Casares and his goons. Once that is all done with, we can get back to work on getting the rest of these things back and into the vault.”

Micki looked up at Ryan, right into his eyes, the eyes she had missed looking at, eyes she had dreamt about night after night. “You know,” she said. “You don’t have to come back here, to this shop, this mission. You can always just stay away, stay safe.”

Ryan shook his head, his hand going under hers, squeezing tightly. “No, this is where I belong, in this shop, working with you and Jack to set things right again. We are in this together, and I’ve been gone too long.”

Micki’s face beamed and her heart pounded at the words as he said them. She raised her free hand and touched his cheek. “Ryan.” she said, looking at him, deep in his eyes. She needed to touch him, to make sure he was real, that he was really here before her. “I have missed you so much.”

Ryan squeezed her other hand, still held in his, a little tighter. “C’mon,” he said, smirking. “We better get some sleep. I feel like I’ve aged twenty years today.”

She laughed at his joke, and then they went off to their bedrooms. Even though she was worried for Jack, Micki feel into a deep, restful sleep. Ryan was back and close to her once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Johnny came in through the front door of the shop carrying a cup of coffee from the nearby bakery, as well as a bag of their freshest doughnuts. “Morning!” he said loudly, before realizing Micki was talking with someone on the telephone. Ryan was standing next to her.

“Right, yeah. I understand.” she said. The called ended then, as she returned the receiver to it’s cradle.

“Who was that?” Johnny asked, placing the bag of doughnuts on the counter before the both of them.

“That,” Micki said, looking from Ryan to Johnny and back again. “was Casares’ valet, or whatever he is. There has been a change in plans. Seems Jack needs a couple of his old books from his room. He asked that they be brought to him.”

“Well, that’s good, right?” Johnny said. “Jack’s helping us out, making it easier. We can get in the house even better if we have an excuse to be there.”

Micki shook her head, but Ryan is the one who spoke up. “Let me guess; Casares’ guy doesn’t want us going there, instead he is going to send someone here for the books.”

“You got it.” Micki said, propping her head on her shoulders. “Now what?”

“Now, we let them come and get the books.” Ryan said, staring off into the shop, his mind whirring. “And, if Rashid is feeling better, maybe he can he help us.”

Despite her guilty feelings about Ryan losing out on his second childhood, Micki was happy to be rejoined with him, working together. “Go on, what have you got in mind?” she asked. She was anxious to hear his plan, anxious to get Jack home, anxious to restart their lives, together for good this time.

#friday the 13th: the series #80s tv #micki foster #ryan dallion #johnny ventura #reflecting #fanfic

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earthtooz · 3 years ago

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// PAIRING: eren jaeger x reader

// SYNOPSIS: eren's pretty adamant on getting you to kiss him.

// WARNINGS: FLUFF! reader teases eren, pouty eren, spin the bottle game... kinda, dialogue heavy, cursing, alcohol, lots and lots of, eren is drunk, lmk if there are other warnings i have bypassed!

// A/N: UNEDITED - tags work tags work tags work tags work tags work tags please work, first ever aot piece and i kinda pulled it out my ass lMFAOOOO :o i can't help it the eren and levi brainrot is real. hope i characterised eren somewhat accurately, enjoy <3

"you have to kiss me!" eren pleads, hands clasped together as his green eyes shine up at you.

“eren, what? no! you’re drunk!” you exclaim in retaliation, pushing his face away gently, but despite that, it’s not enough to stop his stubbornness. in fact, it actually intensifies his pleading expression, “you’re gross.”

his face contorts to resemble one of a kicked puppy.

you sigh, feeling the walls you built up soften a little, “eren, i’ll kiss you when your breath doesn’t reek of alcohol and when i know you want a kiss.”

the tips of your ears flush red at the last statement. when eren came up to you with an urgent request for you to kiss him, ‘on the lips’, as he reiterated, you choked on the soda you were drinking. yes, the carbonation got the better of you and started stinging your nostrils, and yes, you were very flustered at his request because first of all, that would cross the line of your friendship and second of all, the childish tone in his voice was very unfamiliar.

the last time you’d heard eren sound this juvenile was when he was 15 and now, as young adults, you can’t remember the last time he whined over something.

especially something as futile as a kiss.

“if this is some dare you better tell me, because that would just be mean-” you murmur with a frown before he interrupts.

“it’s not a dare! i promise, jus’ kiss me.”

“when you’re sober.”

“but sober me would chicken out,” he huffs, “please? just this once? doesn’t matter that i’m drunk.”

“yes it does! you could be spewing bullshit out your stupid mouth.”

“i spew bullshit out of my mouth even when i’m sober.”

“great, now i’m even more unconvinced.”

eren huffs and rests his head on your shoulder in defeat. you place a palm on the side of his head so that it doesn’t roll off.

a game of spin the bottle happening in the corner catches your eye.

“why does it have to be me?” you ask, now playing with the roots of his hair, “if you so desperately want to kiss someone go over to that game happening. they look like they’re having fun.”

“that’s connie, jean and sasha,” he comments.

“so? i’m sure they’re down to kiss you. jean’s a good kisser.”

“how do you know?”

you merely shrug with a smirk, looking to get a rise out of the brunet but irritation resides in his features.

“you’re tellin’ me you’d rather kiss horse-face than me?” he questions in a demanding tone, gripping onto your shoulders. eren also adds a, “besides, i don’t want them to kiss me, i want you to kiss me and i’m not about to join a game where you’re not one of the options.”

suddenly a lightbulb appears on his head and he murmurs a ‘be right back’ before disappearing into the crowd.

true to his word, eren manifests 30 seconds later, now holding an empty beer bottle as a faint yell of ‘what the hell, yeager?’ echoes behind him.

“sit down,” the brunet gently commands and you do as said, amused.

“are we gonna play spin the bottle, eren?”

“yes.”

“just us?”

“yes.”

you were having fun at this point, so you tick your friend off a little more, “c’mon, that won’t be fun. armin seems like he’s down to play and so does-”

eren shoves the empty beer bottle into your hands with a simple command, “spin.”

doing as he says, he watches the glass closely as it circulates repeatedly from the sheer force you put into it but at last, it begins to slow, with the head finally choosing its victim.

it lands right on eren, no mistaking it. he laughs brightly and cheers.

“finally! you gotta kiss me now!”

you smile softly at his behaviour, about to relent if it weren’t for mikasa cutting your interaction short with armin draped on her shoulder, “hey y/n, i think it’s the end of the night for armin and i. mind dropping us home?”

“sure,” you reply before glancing over to eren, who is seething with irritation at this point, “are you gonna go home too or wanna enjoy the party a little more?”

he grunts, “i’ll go.”

mikasa helps him up as you fish for your car keys, leading everyone to your car. the trip was quiet, eren’s unaddressed anger squeezing the peace away and instead, replacing it with a suffocating tension. it wasn’t until you arrive at a red light that mikasa speaks up.

“what’s your problem, eren?”

the man in question turns his head away, sulking further as he crunches up the plastic water bottle in his hands, “it’s nothing.”

she turns to you with confusion in her eyes and you can’t help but chuckle, “leave him be. boys will be boys. so how did armin pass out? thought he didn’t like getting pissed drunk.”

“he’s just a lightweight.”

“so’s eren. our luck, huh?”

mikasa grins and the conversation continues until you drop armin and mikasa off, leaving you alone with the same man who’s been harassing you for a kiss.

thinking about it is getting you flustered, but you recall how disappointed eren looked when mikasa interrupted his moment of victory and in compensation, you ask if he wants to ride shotgun. he grunts in agreement.

“you okay to stay the night at my apartment? i don’t trust that you’re gonna keep yourself safe whilst intoxicated. second i look away you might go and pick some fights with guys double your size.”

“and i’d win.”

“and you’d win.”

nothing eventful occurs during the drive back to your apartment and it’s not until you’re settled on the couch with pizza in between the two of you that he asks about the kiss again.

and you choke on your pizza all the same. dude really needs to learn what better timing is.

“i feel a lot more sober now, so please?”

“did you know that alcohol can last in your system for more than 24 hours-”

“stop avoiding the question.”

“adamant as ever. y’know what, when you wake up in the morning and you still feel the same, let me know.”

excitement glistens in his eyes, “hope ya like morning breath.”

you throw a pillow at him.

***

rapid knocking wakes you up from your slumber and the first thing you see when you wake up are the analog digits on your bedside clock reading 7:32. damn eren and his early bird tendencies - and why is he knocking so urgently at this time of day?

trudging to the door, you swing it open and you’re greeted by the charmingly boyish smile you’re accustomed to.

“so… about that kiss.”

yeah i didn't make y'all kiss in the end lMFAOO GET FUCKED!...but you look so pretty when you press reblog, like or follow 😁😁

hope you enjoyed regardless, have a good day/evening!

#eren x reader #eren fluff #eren yeager x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #eren drabble #eren imagine #eren x you #eren jaegar #eren #eren jeager #eren yeager #eren yaeger #eren yaeger x reader #shingeki no kyoujin #shinkegi no kyojin x reader

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rainbowchewynuggets · 2 years ago

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TMA Encore #11a

The group walks timorously through the tunnels with Not-Martin. Sasha has the map this time. Jon and Tim bring up the rear with Tim holding the flashlight. Martin, in the middle, cautiously occupies the space between them and Not-Martin. He has the second flashlight.

Not-Martin recounts the day he and Not-Jon first realized they had a second chance and a duty to prevent the apocalypse. They reasoned that if they couldn’t stop what had happened to their world from in the thick of it, they would have a better shot coming at it from the outside. They had tried to be subtle at first, so as not to disrupt the lives of those involved. Despite their best efforts, it ended just as badly as before. So, they tried again and have been trying ever since. They became more and more adamant until they were inserting themselves right in the middle of things–with little more success. It took them a long time to figure out how the rules they knew applied to their situation. They hadn’t realized there was a new consequence for overtaking avatars.

NM: I couldn’t feel it until his hold over it started to slip. By then, it was too late.

Silence fills the corridor as the team studies Not-Martin. They let his story settle into the air, waiting to see what he’ll say if he thinks it wasn’t enough to convince them. He says nothing and keeps walking, not even looking at them.

Jon: But the Fears aren’t controlling him. That’s not how it works. He’s doing this himself.

NM: It’s the pain. Without an entire world of people to feed on, the Fears are starving to death. They pass the feeling on to us to motivate us. I don’t think they’re picky about which of us gets to be their avatar at this point, but Jon’s been keeping their attention on him this whole time.

Sasha: Why?

NM: To spare me and hold himself accountable for what happened at the end.

Sasha: No, I mean… I can understand pain making a person a little irrational. But this is so premeditated and extreme.

NM: That’s the problem. He thinks that he’s mastered it. So he takes warning signs as encouragement. To feel assured that he’s still himself.

Martin recalls the time he spent with his mother through her chronic illness. She had often worded it exactly that way when he couldn’t get her to rest. Not-Martin slips a knowing glance at him.

Tim: And manipulating and tormenting people is just part of retaining his fundamental character, apparently.

The words are already out by the time Tim remembers Jon is walking right beside him in the dark.

Tim: I just–I meant that he didn’t have to do it this way.

Not-Martin doesn’t reply.

Martin’s double further exposits that Not-Jon can’t be allowed to pursue his goal any further than he already has. Even if he does manage to prevent the apocalypse, the vacuum created by the consumed avatars would inevitably be too much. He would fully succumb to the need to satisfy his hunger.

Tim: And he’ll, what, become as big a fear monster as Jonah?

NM: Oh, he’s already a lot bigger than Jonah. I’m terrified to think what that much power would look like manifested. That is, if he doesn’t die first and leave it all with me.

Tim: Joy.

Sasha: So, what’s your solution?

NM: Convince him to share the burden with me and entomb the both of us in the nearest, deepest hole in the ground before anything else can happen.

Tim: So, your original plan. Which you’ve tried before?

NM: Many times.

Tim: And why will it work now?

NM: Because it’s the only option. It’s just a matter of trial and error.

Tim: Uh-huh. Then again, if you’re a Fear ghost like him, then we shouldn’t be listening to what either of you say, should we?

NM: *shrugs* I’d agree if I didn’t know that my Jon has it a hundred times worse than I do. Your odds with me are much better.

Tim: Which could be a lie.

NM: If it were, you’d have no reason to believe any of what I’ve said so far.

He answers the interrogation readily and casually, though not as if he’d rehearsed it.

Jon shakes off his precaution to ask a burning question.

Jon: Am I really what makes things fall apart every time?

NM: I’m sure that my Jon would like you to think so. It’s much more complicated than that. He’s just punishing you for things you haven’t done yet.

A little irritation creeps into his voice. It’s also the first plainly obfuscated thing he’s said so far, Jon notices.

Jon: It never made a difference to remove me from the equation?

NM: Again, it’s complicated. We ended up agreeing not to.

The group continues to ask questions about the details and history of the situation, especially things that Not-Jon prescribed to them as truth and things that he refused to tell them. Not-Martin answers all of it politely and patiently enough, giving no sign of duress or deception. There are no earth-shattering revelations. It only cements the places where Not-Jon and Not-Martin’s perspectives overlap. Whether or not he’s telling the truth, it’s comforting to get clear answers without the immediate pressure to cooperate for once. In fact, it gets Sasha’s attention.

Sasha: Are we… expected to help in your plan?

NM: No. It doesn’t really matter what any of you do from this point forward.

They ask him to elaborate. He says that their part in Not-Jon’s plan is over. In scenarios where they stay in the tunnels or the archives, they’re penned so that they can’t interfere. When they leave, they’re unable to change the outcome at all and are left to deal with Jonah’s machinations once he escapes. There’s nothing they can do.

Tim: Wait, yes we can. Don’t we still have the lighter?

Everyone turns to Jon. As he wraps his fingers loosely around the device still in his pocket, he feels the tiny piece of plastic he took from Jonah’s office. He nods.

Tim: If the fuse is long enough, we could light the dynamite on our way out and do away with the lot of them while they’re chasing each other around down there.

Not-Martin scratches his chin thoughtfully.

NM: I can’t say it’s been done before. But I won’t object as long as I’m down there with them.

Sasha: Have we tried it before?

NM: Yes.

The group’s optimism deflates.

NM: Sorry. I’m not sure what gets in the way. I don’t usually stop to talk to you guys.

Martin: Have you come close before?

NM: Very.

Martin: How? It sounds like he’d be untouchable at this point.

NM: Because he can’t scare me. None of this does anymore.

Martin studies his counterpart. It’s not just talk. He’s steady. Dispassionate, but not overly calm. The determination with which he described his task betrayed a steep understanding of the consequences for failure. Yet, he approaches the ordeal ahead as if going to do laundry. It’s kind of terrifying. Martin feels like he’s watching an alien creature walk around with his face painted on it. His memories inside it. Although, wouldn’t it make sense to need an alien to combat an alien threat? He wonders if this is how Jon felt meeting his other self.

He checks on Jon, who has his eyes turned toward the tunnels as they pass. Martin just then notices how deep and rhythmic the murmuring noise has become. Almost like chugging movement.

The group arrives at the dynamite area. There are still boxes strewn about with leftover materials in them–including plenty of fuse that could be tied on. The tunnel leading out is situated opposite some others that lead down to the Panopticon. The four of them nonverbally determine that it’s time to decide whether to stay or go. Meanwhile, Not-Martin examines the prison remains, looking for anomalies.

The vote is not as quick as before.

Martin, unexpectedly, is the one to pipe up first. He wants to stay and try to stop Not-Jon. He feels that the stakes are too steep not to try. Tim and Sasha argue against it, and he defends his choice. Not-Jon could easily stop the dynamite from working just as he stopped them from escaping. Whether Jonah escapes or doesn’t, they’re likely doomed if they just leave. They’re stuck no matter what. He doesn’t want to feel like he didn’t try to push back when he could have, especially after everything Not-Jon has put them through already. At the very least, it would give him another thing to have to manage.

Martin’s voice shakes even as he says it out loud, but he manages to hold himself in place.

Tim is quick to remind him that they don’t have a hearty reason to trust Not-Martin. Martin proclaims that he might then be trying to get rid of them. The one thing they can say for certain is that Jonah and Not-Jon are too dangerous to be left to their own devices.

His anxiety prompts him to keep talking, but he makes himself leave it there.

Jon quickly says that he’s staying too.

The others fall into silence. Sasha visibly wavers in two minds before letting out her breath.

Tim: Sasha, no.

Sasha: Yeah, I’m sorry. I think I’m with Martin. But just barely.

She says she’s getting tired of trying to take the safe route on purpose, only for them to wind up getting separated and nearly killed anyway. If there is no good sane way out, as Martin had said, their only way is through.

To be fair, Tim does look at them as if they’ve all gone insane.

Tim: I’m not saying we do nothing. Even he knows it--*gestures at Not-Martin* --we’re not gonna be able to do anything about this if we’re in the middle of it. If the dynamite doesn’t work, we’ll find another way.

NM: No, you won’t.

Tim: You be quiet.

Try as he might, Tim can’t convince them to change their minds. He stands there, unable to follow but unwilling to leave them behind to die.

The vague rumbling ramps up and draws close. The walls around them begin to shift, but not like in an earthquake. Stone and cement slide frictionlessly over one another with heavy clicking sounds. The floor is perfectly stable aside from some vibrations. The walls of the exit tunnel and the one they came from advance inward, herding the occupants further into the junction of passages. Not-Martin glares at someone who’s not in the room.

NM: Oh, goddamn it, Jon.

Jon leaps through a nearby passage before it closes.

Goddamn it, Jon, Martin thinks.

The others move to catch him, but there isn’t enough clearance by the time he gets there. The clamorous stone is so loud, they can’t hear each other. But they can make out Jon mouthing “I’m sorry” in the feeble light of the spider web lighter just before the gap closes.

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

First

(I forgot what I was doing and gave Sasha the second flashlight in the third page. Pretend Martin has it.)

Index

#the magnus archives #mag200 spoilers #magnus pod #tma fancomic #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #tim stoker #not-martin #the spiral #tma encore 11 #tma encore 11a #cw blood #cw claustrophobia

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n0fac3chan · 3 years ago

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Witchy Yandere Tips:

These are just simple charms to help you attract your darling, they aren't love spells. But in my experience, these things work better than actual love spells!

Charms:

1. Pens/pencils for them to borrow.

2. “Friendship” bracelets.

3. Lighters/cigs so when they smoke them their absorbing your intentions.

4. Jewelry, you can ask them to hold it for you while you tie your hair up, wash your hands, etc. or pretend to leave it in their car/room.

(^^^ This one has actually worked really well for me!)

Small Spells:

1. If you want them to be a bit sweeter to you, repeat “(full name) think sweet thoughts of me” while envisioning them, and eat a spoon full of honey.

(^^^ This one too.)

2. If you have a poppet to represent them, stick a needle into the back of its head, that way you'll always be in the back of their mind. :)

3. Make a sigil for manifesting their love, make sure to charge it, and write it everywhere. On bay leaves, your hands, the bottom of your water bottle, your notebooks, everywhere. You could even sneak it into a drawing and give it directly to them!

4. Write poems, songs, or love letters for them, and burn them to release you intentions into the air. Or you could throw them into a cauldron with a couple bay leaves and other herbs to strengthen your intentions.

Altars:

Making an altar for your darling! Something I've done and has helped me a lot.

1. Be sure to keep it hidden well if you live with other people. I have mine in an old jewelry box, but even just a shoe box works fine. Use what you can find! Or, if you're able, you could buy a fancy box or table just for their altar!

2. Acquiring items can be difficult, but be patient. It’s less risky when you slowly build up a collection of their things. Though, don’t hesitate to get something when you have the opportunity. I had the chance to get some of my darlings hair, but I missed it because I hesitated. :(

3. If you can have candles, that's great! Make sure to get some in their favorite color, or one that's smell reminds you of them! If you cant though, light up candles are an option, or you can go without. Nothing is a requirement, this is all very personal to you and your love.

4. You can also just add things that remind you of them. Maybe a book or piece of jewelry. And if you have tarot cards, you can pull a card to represent them for their altar also!

5. Take lots of pictures of them when you get the chance, so you can print them out later and add them to their altar. And if you can’t take photos of them, or don't have access to a printer, a drawing will work just fine! Even if you aren’t particularly talented.

#irl yandere #yandere #yanderecore #yandere community #yancore #darlingcore #yandere mlm #o.l.d #obssesive #obsessive love disorder #yandere wlw #yandere witch #yandere tips

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phoenixyfriend · 4 years ago

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Commander Buir

Follow-up to this post. Not in any particular order, just spitballing ideas, with contributions from several friends on discord.

Like presumably it takes long enough for them all to meet up again that Anakin and Cody do, in fact, end up treating each other like family, just so I can have that good good "well, guess I'm Dad now" energy. Shmi isn't entirely sure what's going on but she's not a slave anymore and her kid seems to like this rando mando, so.

Anakin gets to have a mom and two dads, though one of the dads is arguably younger than him.

Also when they all meet up again and Cody explains the "General Skywalker got shrunk" thing, there are three reactions: (General) Obi-Wan: Oh, Anakin. Obi-Wan: [gestures to take him, ends up with an armful of clingy padatoddler] Anakin: You can't blame this on me, Obi. Obi-Wan, a little teary, because babies cause emotions: Of course I can, you absurd human being. ------ Rex: That's... my general. Anakin: I am, Captain. Rex: Cool cool cool I'm gonna go stand where I can't, uh, break you. Anakin: I'm not THAT fragile! ------ Ahsoka: [gasp] Skyguy is SKYKID! Anakin: Padawan, this is-- Ahsoka, grabbing him and cuddling: Oh my goodness you're adorable this is the best day ever. Anakin: This is humiliating, Snips, put me down. Ahsoka: Never.

Anakin hates being a toddler because of the lack of independence but Cody keeps picking him up when he's cranky and just holding him until he falls asleep and that's... nice.......

- The brain limitations aren't quite as bad as the situation with Sokanth and Ylliben in the other AU, but - Even if his brain is mostly adjusted he’s still got a tiny body with different needs that he’s not used to. Like, he needs to sleep more but he’s got more energy than usual when he’s awake and it’s all weird.

Cody carrying around toddler Anakin like "God you give me ulcers but you're adorable, you little shit."

Inconveniently tiny body aside, Anakin has a pretty great time in this au. His family are all together and safe and within reach. His wife isn't around, but toddler brain means he doesn't have the Romance Drive, so that's not as bad as it could be It could be significantly worse.

@atagotiak asked: Does Anakin get annoyed about being called cute? - To which I say, He bites the first few times but Shmi tells him that's Naughty so he stops. - Babies are cute so you packbond with them before they’re annoying, Anakin is cute as a self defense mechanism - He’s extra annoying so he needs to be extra cute

You know how you need to keep an eye on toddlers so they don't, like, fall down the stairs or put something toxic in their mouth? - They need to keep an eye on Anakin specifically so he doesn't rewire the ship they're in while they're in hyperspace. - He has less self control on account of being smol. He still has all the mechanical knowledge! Just less comprehension of y’know, consequences.

Anakin, with a sippy cup: This is demeaning. Ahsoka: Your hands don't work great enough to avoid accidents yet. Anakin: It's still embarrassing.

General Kenobi can't just kill Maul, not when Maul is baby right now (sixteen, which is baby enough) so he just. Kinda. Kidnaps a baby Sith. (It's fine. He's fine.)

General Kenobi (not to be confused with Padawan Kenobi) decides to declare Maul his new padawan because someone has to deal with this teenager, and Plo already claimed the rest of Ahsoka's training. And Anakin's three, so.

"What do we do with Maul?" "Eh, I can handle him. I dealt with teenage Anakin getting arrested for illegal pod-racing twice a month, I can work with this."

Maul bites, but only slightly more often than Anakin, it's fine

Ahsoka definitely bullies Maul whenever possible

Consider: Rex holding very still because Anakin wanted to be tall, so he climbed Rex. Being unexpectedly climbed is better than being unexpectedly yeeted. It's still extremely nerve-wracking. - Cody is perfectly capable of running around with a backpacking toddler General, but Rex freezes like a statue. - Ahsoka finds this hilarious

You know how little kids like to be thrown around and swung in circles and stuff like that? This must get even more ridiculous with force users. Can throw a child real high and catch them safely. - Rex panics whenever Ahsoka throws her chibified Master

Literally everyone except Rex loves being yeeted. Even Maul can appreciate a good tactical yeet no shut up he's not having fun this is TRAINING - Rex is Suffering - Cody, a very Tired Dad, deserves to mock his vod'ika a little, as stress relief - Rex, a certified Little Brother, shoves Cody off something tall. Jokes on him, Cody thinks freefall is fun too.

Tia asked: So the people who didn’t exist yet got flung bodily back in time and Anakin did the mental time travel. Why did Obi-Wan not become Padawan Kenobi? (I mean “because I want it that way” is def a good enough answer I’m just wondering if there’s any reason.) - Which, well, it really was mostly "I want to" but here's two options, both of which come down to Blame Daughter and Father. 1. They figured a responsible adult Jedi Master was needed to convince people. 2. Nobody was supposed to get de-aged but Daughter figured they needed to make Anakin less liable to kill things for a few years. - Also IDK the Force God-Manifestations also took away any risk of rapid aging and early death from the clones because uhhhhhhhhhhh I said so

Rex and Ahsoka are fumbling their way through a relationship where ages are just really confusing and awkward, so they're keeping it to just kisses and cuddles for a bit.

Cody is so tired he doesn't even realize anyone's hitting on him until it's been three years of co-parenting with Shmi and his General. - Somehow Anakin knows Cody is in a relationship before Cody does. Cody has never been so embarrassed. - How did he manage to be less observant than Skywalker? -- it was sabotage; all his brain cells were taken up in managing said Skywalker -- Because Skywalker was up at three in the morning whacking a training droid with a stick so he didn't have the energy for Relationships

Also Shmi's come-ons are super subtle, while the General's are... well, Cody's gotten very used to ignoring anything ambiguous on that end because fraternization rules, and also because Obi-Wan flirts a lot with everyone. So.

Please imagine Cody and General Kenobi walking around with Anakin tucked into a toddler sling while they do whatever work they've ended up with at the Temple. - Yes, Cody is helping the Jedi figure out the best plan of attack to take down this slave ring because his grasp on tactics is phenomenal and he knows how to deploy people at greatest efficiency, but also he's got a nosy toddler on his hip who keeps offering his own insane-but-competent ideas. - General Kenobi ends up with a Council Seat just on account of, like, being the kind of person he is. As often as not, he's got Anakin tucked into his robes, chewing on the ear of a stuffed tooka or something.

IDK what Shmi's doing but apparently Legends had it that some of the administrative and support positions in the Temple were held by non-Jedi civilians? So probably something like that.

GENERAL KENOBI LECTURING PADAWAN MAUL WHILE ANAKIN'S BALANCED ON HIS HIP AND GLARING AT MAUL FOR STEALING HIS DAD

General Kenobi: Ahsoka's babysitting. Anakin: I'm her master, I don't need babysitting, this is-- General Kenobi: Fine, then you need supervision, so that you don't blow up a training salle again. Anakin: And you think Ahsoka would stop me? General Kenobi, eye twitching: Fine, I'm leaving you with Plo.

Even if he’s mentally an adult Anakin always needs supervision Look at canon! Anakin was left without supervision for like two days and he became a Sith

Quinlan gets distracted by how attractive General Kenobi is and tells Obi-Wan "dude, you're gonna be so hot once you can get rid of the stupid haircut" and Obi-Wan pushes him into the nearest pond.

They end up with this weird "Uncle Jango" situation (uncle to Anakin, via weird brotherhood-ish to Cody) because Rex and Cody are just like "Uhhhhhhhhh yeah okay" about him eventually, and Jango just like. Drops by. Trying to Earn Affection Of Blood Kin by bringing weird gifts for them and their (ugh) Jedi.

"Okay, Rex'ika, I stopped by Shili--" "What?" "--and apparently this is a delicacy there, so just... your girlfriend will like it." "She's not my girlfriend." "..." "Okay, I can't call her my girlfriend. Jedi have rules about that sort of thing, and--" "This will make your Jedi happy, probably. Just take it, kid."

Baby Anakin got his arm back but for some inexplicable reason still has The Eye Scar. He matches Buir.

#disaster lineage #Anakin Skywalker #CodyWan #Commander Cody #Obi Wan Kenobi #Ahsoka Tano #Captain Rex #Shmi Skywalker #Maul #Darth Maul #Rexsoka #time travel #de aging #baby characters #Quinlan Vos #Phoenix Posts #Commander Buir

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razorblade180 · 2 years ago

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Abyss Dominance

Sequel to Abyss Pain <-

Aether and friends waited at Musk Reef for what had to be almost half an hour before the portal glowed it’s menacing light as the two teams emerged.

Aether:Hey how was-

Yae Miko staggered out with Keqing on her back Nahida in one hand, and gripping Diona’s clothes with her teeth. All four were critically low and Yae finally dropped everyone as she fell towards the shallow water in relief. Keqing did her best to get up but her trembling arms only got her to her knees.

Behind them came Zhongli using his spear as a can to keep himself up while Yun Jin helped him along, also exhausted. Yoimiya came out with several huge bruises and a bloody nose that Kokomi was frantically trying to stop.

Aether:What…HAPPENED!?

Kokomi:Strategies… don’t account for power…

Keqing:We covered every aspect of each chamber. Knew every weakness…

Yae:But that doesn’t make the adversaries hurt less. We all made it through the rift hounds and didn’t doddle, but by the end the only person healthy enough to take the lead was our little shogun over here.

Nahida:Keqing…fought all the Serpent Knights. Took every hit, worked every angle, all while defending us.

Keqing:A Captain…protects their own.

Diona:*sniffling* I’m sorry I couldn’t heal faster! Or give you more defense.

Keqing:You did wonderfully. That giant robot would’ve had us dead to rights if you didn’t shoot it down so quickly. I wouldn’t have managed without any of you.

Yae:That’s my line. No stop trying to stand.

Aether:*looks left* Okay, you guys hold the fastest time for destroying the Thunder Manifestation, so I don’t that was the problem.

Yoimiya:That was no problem. Chamber one went smoothly our end. Two on the other hand…

Yun Jin: Those Lawachurls were something out of a nightmare. Not only did they obliterate Mr. Zhongli’s shield, but the cryo affect caught Yoimiya in place. They both jumped and…yeah.

Kokomi:Thank goodness one got petrified but Yoimiya was sent flying across the room. That was before the two electro ones showed up…

Zhongli:I must apologize. A shield should hold firm when all other options fail, but looks like I wasn’t up to the task.

Yoimiya:Nonsense. You’re wonderful. Things would’ve been different if I could move properly but I ran out of room and flames. I’m supposed to lead but got taken out near the start. Sorry for making you all worry so much.

Aether:What about chamber 3?

Kokomi:Much simpler. Not half the ordeal but we were still pretty tired. In the end…we achieved 35 stars.

Keqing:Sorry. Those knights ate up time.

Yun Jin:We weren’t much better, struggling as we did and needing lots of time. Looks like we have improving to do.

Aether:Geez guys. We’re only missing a star. You all did amazing. Don’t worry about it.

Yae:The primo bag is nearly empty.

Aether:…Well you’re correct but it’s fine. I honestly can’t think of a better combination to get through everything timely.

Nahida:I really want that last star.

Yoimiya:Yeah it’s gonna bug me! But…I won’t ask you all to go back in there. Frankly I don’t know what I’d do differently.

Keqing:Sorry everyone, but I’m spent.

Yae:Fine by me.

Diona:We don’t think less of you.

The groups let out sighs of exhaustion. Footsteps through the water made ripples as Nilou came walking towards Keqing and grabbed Jade Cutter.

Nilou:I’ll go on for you.

Everyone:….

Keqing:I mean, I won’t stop you. But are you sure?

Nilou:Won’t know unless I try, right? At the vet least, I don’t think I’m letting corrosion take me out.

Keqing:You…have a point.

Nahida:I’ll join again.

Nilou:Thank you. I humbly request Kokomi and you Aether.

Collei:(Oh thank gods I’m safe.)

Kokomi:Of course I’ll help you. The hounds should be easy for us.

Aether:Shouldn’t you take Collei for the robot.

Nilou:Oh you’re right!

Collei:…

Kokomi:Don’t worry. I’ll keep you and Nahida nice and healthy. Just stay behind us.

Collei:Okay….

Bennett walks over to help Yun Jin while Hu Tao walks over and smiles at Yoimiya. She then looks over at Zhongli mischievously.

Zhongli:…I’m working overtime?

Hu Tao:Oh don’t phrase it like that! If anything you’re actually working less. Let’s show them the power of mono pyro!

Yun Jin:I leave them in your capable hands.

Bennett:We’ll be back before you know it!

Aether:Guys. Seriously, 35 stars is-

A fierce look of determination from all of them hit Aether with immense pressure. He simply smiles and gives them the okay.

Keqing:If you pull this off Nilou, I’ll personally recommend you to get another crown and be captain.

Nilou:Oh well now I know I gotta give it my all!

xxxxx

There can beauty in anything if you look hard enough. Food, weapons, nature; Collei never thought she’d find beauty in a place like the abyss. However, as she stood with Nahida on her shoulders, the Court of Dreams shining down on them, and their circling around them, Collei could only be left in awe. Even the slight sting of poison and blooms were numbed immediately as Nilou twirled through the abyss creatures on Collei’s left while Kokomi gracefully attacked to her right. Before she knew it, their performance was over. Complete and utter dominance. All with gentle smiles on their face as if they weren’t in a place of danger.

Nilou:Good job everyone. On to the next room.

xxxxx

Meanwhile on the other side, Zhongli witnesses the phrase “frolicking flames” personified in three people. Perhaps it all their battle experience, but the three pyros moved in sych even though this was their first ever team up. Bennett matched Yoimiya’s pace and stuck by her at all times as the she launched arrow after arrow at the cryo Lawachurls. Zhongli took personal satisfaction watching his boss tear through their shields like paper then proceeded to push both of them back. Ice trapped her feet but HuTao laughed as she dashed out, following Yoimiya firework mark.

The two electro barreled through the funeral director, knocking her away but only getting a few feet before Zhongli petrified them so Yoimiya and Bennett can move further back. Meanwhile Hu Tao got up and rushed towards them to hit a devastating blow that all but turned them to ash. She looked at her friends and gave a thumbs up.

Hu Tao:See? What did I tell ya?

Bennett:Your nose and lip are bleeding.

Hu Tao:Oh I took that hit on purpose!

Bennett:….

Zhongli:Don’t worry. She’s fine, somehow….

Yoimiya:Let’s roll everyone! I gotta great feeling about this run!

xxxxx

In half the time, both teams came back from the abyss with a few scratches but calm looks that said everything; mission complete.

Aether:Credits give where credit is due. Beautiful work.

Bennett:Aww hehe, just doing our best.

Nilou:Want the sword back?

Keqing:Hang on to it for now. I’ll take it back when the next challenge arises, Captain.

Nilou:I look forward to it, Captain.

#genshin impact #yoimiya naganohara #keqing #gi diona #yae miko #zhongli #yun jin #hu tao #gi bennett #gi nilou #gi collei #nahida #gi aether

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overthinkingfandom · 4 years ago

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Cards on the Table - Breaking down the tactics in L'manburg Independence

/rp /dsmp

Much has been said in the fandom about L'manburg's independence. It is, after all, arguably the most important moment in DSMP's history, as the rest of the story wouldn't have existed without it.

In light of the recent anniversary of it, yes I know I’m late, I wanted to throw my hat in the ring and add something to the discussion surrounding it. However, as the morality of the situation has been discussed to death I'll be taking a slightly different approach to it.

Due to the nature of the DSMP's medium, the story has many unique quirks. One of those quirks is how realistic the tactics used in the story's portrayal of politics are. The independence conflict is a great example of it. While on the surface things seem to be rather simplistic in nature, there's a lot more going on that’s less obvious.

Both Wilbur and Dream are brilliant politicians who get to show both their strengths and weaknesses in dealing with an equally skilled opponent in this encounter. There’s actually quite a bit to go into, despite their interactions being so short.

When most people think about the L'manburg's independence, they think about the moment the declaration has been written up and the subsequent declaration of war. While this moment is certainly iconic, it's not really all that impactful in the grand scheme of things. Both declarations are the culmination of decisions that have been made beforehand. It's the moment when those decisions were made that really influenced things.

Conveniently, Wilbur and Dream only hold a single conversation about L'manburg before the declarations are drawn up, so we don’t need to look far in order to figure out where those decisions were formed.

Wilbur has been working on L’manburg, collecting materials and building the wall surrounding it, for almost an hour when he spots Dream lurking. “Get [Dream] into the VC, I need to talk with him. He’s the leader of the other nation, I think we need to have a congress.” (52:44)

Dream: “Hello?”

Wilbur: “Hello Dream. Welcome to our great nation of L’manburg.”

Dream: “L’manburg?”

Wilbur: “Yes. We are seceding from Dream SMP. This is our own server now. This area, just this part [between the walls of L’manburg], is our server.”

Wilbur doesn’t waste any time before getting right down to business and talking about the matter at hand. However, the way he speaks about it here and in the rest of the conversation is fairly interesting. Wilbur is talking about L’manburg as if it’s something which already exists. They are seceding. This is their land. This conversation is merely a courtesy to give Dream a formal notice of their separation.

Yet, a bit later Wilbur shows he knows they need Dream’s acknowledgement in order for L’manburg to be its own entity. Independence is not a concrete thing that can just be taken or created on one person’s whim, after all. It only exists when the people with power agree it exists.

Wilbur: “Dream, basically all we want from you is just acknowledgement that we are an independent nation now. That’s all we need.” (56:20)

So if Wilbur knows they aren’t independent yet, why is he talking like that?

It’s because he’s using a salesman technique called an Assumptive Close. Instead of posing it as a question and putting the choice of agreeing or disagreeing in Dream’s hands, Wilbur acts as if it’s already true and leaves the burden of challenging his claims on Dream’s shoulders. He even moves on to ask secondary questions on how Dream feels about having embassies in his land (and notably he frames it as a question, unlike how he frames the topic of L’manburg’s independence) as if L’manburg is already a political entity.

Wilbur: “Dream, I’ve got a proposition for you. How do you feel about having Tommy’s land being an embassy? Like it’s an enclave in your own land.” (59:01)

Wilbur’s use of this technique has an interesting side effect in that it signals to Dream Wilbur is taking a non-compromising position in this negotiation. In essence saying “L’manburg is independent, take it or leave it.”

A non-compromising position is the game theory term for when someone goes, "I'm going to do that, this is going to happen and nothing can dissuade me from this course of action." It's a strong tactic which forces everyone to react to that person's position, reducing the others' options into a binary of either accepting that position or rejecting it.

This is a very common tactic and various manifestations of it can be seen all over history and media. From Martin Luther who refused to recant or compromise with his famous words of “Here I stand, I cannot do otherwise” to groups who cultivate a "with us or against us" mentality to heroic characters who say they would die before giving in to whatever Evil the story focuses on.

This is the situation Dream is facing here. He can either accept Wilbur's assertion that L'manburg is an independent entity by either encouraging them or even doing nothing, or he can reject Wilbur's assertion by acting against it.

As we all know, he ended up choosing the second option but what were his considerations for doing so?

For that we would need to know what his goal was here, something we don't really get a sense of from his conversation with Wilbur. However, he ends up stating what it was in a later conversation with Skeppy.

(Emphasis added by me and wasn’t part of the original dialogue.)

“Everyone can build wherever they want. [L’manburg] just decided to say that they get to determine where they can build and we can’t and we said well no, you can’t do that. And that’s what the whole war was over.” (31:44)

“[L’manburg] can’t tell us that we can’t go in their land. That’s all we wanted to say. That they’re not independent, they are a part of the Dream Team SMP. They’re just a delusional, small part." (34:26)

Dream lies a lot, so just because he says something doesn't mean it's necessarily true. However, this seems to be genuine. Dream has no problem telling Skeppy “we burned down their houses and blew up the whole land.” (32:36) later on in the conversation, so we can rule out that he's trying to paint himself in a better light, and there aren't really any other reasons for him to lie to Skeppy here about this.

When looking at Dream's options with his goal we can see the choice is pretty much a no-brainer.

Accepting is a total lose scenario for him. Not only will it fail to fulfill his goals, it would actively encourage the sort of behavior he doesn't want to happen, as Wilbur would set a precedent that so long as someone insisted hard enough and implied Dream is a bad person he would fold in negotiations and give them what they want.

Rejecting gets him far closer to his goal of railing against L’manburg’s exclusion. Going to war means he has to invest much more effort and resources into his reaction than if he just accepted as well as deal with the risks any war has, however the sheer difference in ability between Dream's side and Wilbur's side make the risk minimal.

Going to a war he’s pretty sure he can win VS encouraging the sort of thing he disapproves of, isn’t really a hard choice.

This is actually the result of a mistake on Wilbur's part. CC!Wilbur called his character naive (37:49) and he's not wrong. Wilbur has a tendency to act as he wishes and not take into account that people might disagree or retaliate. We see it with him saying they could just ignore the Americans (1:51:17) or during the elections when he told Quackity his scheme and got blindsided by Quackity deciding to run against him.

Historically, non-compromising positions worked best when the person who used it made sure rejection would be more costly than acceptance in one way or the other. In essence, narrowing down the options for others even more and leaving them only with acceptance.

Wilbur may have managed to wipe off the table all other options and put pressure on Dream to accept with his use of Assumptive Close, but he didn't do anything to prevent Dream from rejecting. In fact, it seems like Wilbur didn't even consider it as a valid possibility as he outright dismissed it when Dream brought it up as an option.

Dream: “What happens if the rest of the server decides to take over your land?”

Wilbur: “They can’t. It’s literally not how servers- Dream you’re supposed to be smart man, that’s not how servers work. You can’t just take over another person’s server.” (54:33)

But, you may be asking, if it was better for Dream to go to war against L'manburg rather than grant them independence, why did he end up giving into their desire for independence in the war? Wouldn't it have been better if he just saved everyone the trouble and gave it to them when they asked for it the first time? Or maybe Dream’s obsession with Tommy and his discs is just that strong?

We can find the answer to all those questions at Punz’ video where he shows the behind the scenes of the independence war, including some of the planning which went into it from the Dream Team’s side of the war. Specifically, this quote:

Dream: “[The L’manburgians] are never gonna give up. So then in the end the resolution will probably just be, we won but they can think whatever they want, we’re just going to ignore them because they’re essentially like- You want to think you’re independent? You’re not, you’re still part of the SMP, but if you want to think you’re independent, you can.” (9:04)

“They’re never gonna give up.”

Whether it’s true or not doesn’t matter, as this is what Dream thinks and so this is what dictates his actions. Perhaps he’s overestimating his opponents here, or maybe he’s talking about how even if L’manburg is defeated this time they would try again for independence in the future. In either case, it’s clear Dream thinks the best case scenario for him - completely preventing people from fighting for L'manburg's independence - is impossible.

So, he tries for the second best case. If he can’t prevent L’manburg, he’s going to allow it but only under Dream’s terms. That’s what his “they can think whatever they want” line is all about. He intends on giving them token independence here, something which would satisfy them but wouldn't pose a real threat. Which is exactly what he ends up offering them during the bow duel.

Dream: “Let me just clarify: if you win, we grant L’Manburg independence.”

Tommy: “Alright.”

Dream: “But we recognize it still as a part of the Dream Team SMP.”

Wilbur: “That’s fine, that’s a fine condition.” (40:54)

The token independence thing didn’t work out so well for him. L'manburg quickly grew to be seen as an entity separate from Greater Dream SMP by everyone, and so Dream was forced to concede and treat it as one as well.

However, despite this part of his plan failing, overall the independence war was a glowing success for Dream.

By giving L'manburg independence after winning the war, Dream sent a very clear message. L'manburg only gets to be independent so long as they stay on Dream's good side. If they don't adhere to the terms Dream sets out for them? He can and will kick their asses, as the war so aptly demonstrated.

This message is received loud and clear. During his entire presidency Wilbur went out of his way to treat Dream with respect and try not to piss him off. Something he clearly demonstrates a number of times, like when he asked if he should call Dream “king Dream” (59:08) or during the railway skirmish (24:16).

In fact, it can be argued that this message lasted all the way up to Tubbo's presidency. Unlike Quackity, who was perfectly fine with starting a fight with Dream, Tubbo knew first hand what a war against Dream looks like. He knew that they could not win a war against him, especially in their weakened state at the time, and that influenced his decision.

As Dream once said: "L'manburg can be independent but it can't be free."

#dsmp analysis #c!dream #c!wilbur #strategist c!dream #dreblr #dsmp #analysis #game theory stuff

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bluethepineapple · 4 years ago

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Ron and the Horcrux: An Alternate Reading

I've read a whole bunch of theories and discussions about why Ron was the most affected by the Horcrux, and I just want to throw my two cents in.

One of the more popular theories seem to be that either the Horcrux was purposely singling him out because it sensed that Ron would destroy it, and another seemed to be that he was carrying much heavier insecurities and burdens than both Harry and Hermione. (This is as I have seen only though.)

I disagree with both.

While Ron did have quite a lot of worries and insecurities, they weren't significantly more than Harry's or Hermione's. Harry had the weight of leadership and the prophecy on his shoulders. Hermione has been entrusted with not only researching the Horcruxes, she was also practically carrying the logistics of their operations at that point. Any failure or mistake on her part could hold dire consequences for the Wizarding World. Ron's fear for his family and his insecurities regarding his relationships with the people he loves isn't more or less of material for the Horcrux, it's simply a different flavor of the same suffering.

No, I think that Ron was simply more VISIBLE in the way he reacted to the pain. And this happened or two reasons. First, Ron is the member of the trio who is most comfortable expressing his emotions. Second, (and more importantly), he was also the only person in the Hunt for whom leaving was actually a legitimate option.

First: Expressing Emotions.

Harry is the type to endure pain in silence. He is used to hurting, and even more used to no one being there when he needed them the most. He learned to not bother asking for help long before Hogwarts, and his time in school did not make that mentally better. He was constantly disbelieved, and he had to finish adventures alone more often than not. Harry is used to just riding out the pain, and that makes emotional outbursts rare for him. This indicates a tendency towards internalization and self-isolation.

In the Hunt, this translates to getting buried under the weight of leadership. It means feeling as if he has to take everything on his own. Even more importantly, it means sitting in that cesspool of toxic emotion until he suffocated. Worst comes to worst, Harry blows up, but until then, it looks like Harry brooding in silence.

Hermione, on the other hand, functions by compartmentalization. She is highly logical, and part of that means that she works best when there is structure. Sometimes that structure is external. Most times though she builds it herself (as we see through her rigid study schedules), and this holds true for her emotions.

She is a highly emotional person, but she also very rarely acts on them. Her slapping Malfoy, setting the canaries on Ron, and attacking him after his return are so shocking both to the readers and her own friends because her emotions are often quite contained. Instead of acting on them in the moment, she channels her feelings through working and solving the problems that elicited the emotions in the first place. And this is only if she decides not to take the high road.

In the Horcrux Hunt, this looks like her constant movement. She keeps planning, brainstorming, managing the food, and ordering both Harry and Ron around. She had a to-do list, and it is through this constant movement and work that she alleviates the possible negative emotions that the Horcrux may have stirred up within her. Aside from the occassional snappishness, the negative effects on her did not result in visible outbursts.

Now to Ron. Ron is a very emotionally expressive guy. Furthermore, he's a loud guy. Coming from a huge family with a lot of competition, being loud is the only way he gets heard. And we see this all throughout the books. He is outspoken with his opinions. If he finds something stupid, he says so. If he is happy, he shows it. If he is nervous, it affects EVERYTHING he does (see: being the Quidditch keeper). Relative to Harry and Hermione, Ron is very much in touch with his emotions, and that makes him very reactive.

And this means, that coupled with the fact that his sore points all have to do with his place in the team, the effect of the Horcrux means loud blow-ups at the people he perceives have slighted him. The targets for his insecurities are RIGHT THERE, and his already short fuse has been made shorter by not only the Horcrux but also the terrible conditions of the Hunt. Ron loses all control of his emotions, and it manifests as anger against the people he strongly feels have not valued him.

Second: The Option of Home

By the time the Horcrux Hunt started, Harry and Hermione don't actually have homes to come back to. Even worse, there is no chance of asylum for either of them. Harry Potter was condemned by a prophecy and is Undesirable#1. The closest he has to a family is the Weasleys, and his presence will place them all in unnecessary danger.

Then not only is Hermione a muggle-born, but she had voluntary removed herself from her parents lives, and she did it in a way that is pretty difficult to return from. Unlike Ron who is believed to still be with his parents, Hermione is very clearly with Harry. Even if she wasn't an Undesirable, she would still have been hunted by virtue of being muggle-born. There really is no place where she could go back to and expect to remain safe.

Ron, on the other hand, while considered a blood-traitor, is STILL pure-blood. In fact, him going home is probably what is safest for his family. It is an option that he and only he ALONE has. Him storming out of the Hunt isn't a sign that he was more affected than most - that happened because HE COULD. He has a family to come back home to, and one with resources to not only support him, but actually keep him safe. Yes, they'd be mad at him, but they also wouldn't turn him away.

Of the three of them, Ron was the only for whom leaving actually made sense.

Conclusion:

While Ron wasn't disproportionately affected by the Horcrux, he did react in the most VISIBLE manner. This led his suffering to be the most visible among the Trio's, but this does not mean that his suffering was necessarily "worse" by any significant degree. Nor does it mean that he was specifically targeted by the Horcrux. Ron blew up because he could. He left because he could. He was angry and he felt that it was the right thing to do.

His arc is about overcoming his insecurities and learning to stay. To attribute his leaving as anything other than his own personal decision is to do a disservice to his character and development.

#ron weasley #ron meta #hp #hp meta #my metas

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shingia · 4 years ago

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Could I request Kuroo, Bokuto, Tsukishima, Sakusa, Miya twins, and Tendou with a reader who used to self harm but was sober for a while, only to relapse after they left bc of a huge argument then please and thanks? Sorry if that’s really intense tho. And thank u for being so nice🙂💞

[𝐓𝐖] 𝐒/𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅-𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌

ok i reaaally hope this is what you expected. i didn’t know what kind of ending you wanted but i decided that you, my friend, needed comfort, so i gave you comfort because you deserve it ❤️️

i hope reading this will make you feel better! kisses on your nose ❤️️

type : (strong) angst | word count : 4.4K

warnings : mentions of self-harm, depiction of depressive behavior (plz do not read if any of these might trigger something, i want you all to be safe <3)

⇀ 𝐤𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨

« fuck you, kuroo. fuck. you. ». those were the last words you had told him. they had hurt, but they were nothing compared to the last words he had told you, the words that kept playing over and over in your head as you slowly felt yourself drift to your old habits again : « i’m done with you ».

was it your fault ? did you push him over the edge ? you had many questions to ask kuroo, but he wasn’t there to answer anymore. so these thoughts were left spiraling in your head as you started to lose balance between love and pain. because his love used to be the cure to your pain. so now what ? what were you supposed to do other than going back to your old habits ? you couldn’t think of any answer.

on monday morning, you woke up thirty minutes earlier because, first of all, you needed some time for the swelling of your eyes to go down, and second of all, you needed to mentally prepare yourself to see kuroo again. it had been two days since your fight, and he had not manifested himself once. it seemed to be well and truly over ; and that thought had been the main cause of the collapsing of your mental strength over the last two days.

during your first period, although you were avoiding his gaze, kuroo couldn’t help but cast glances in your direction. because he knew you better than anyone, and he could only imagine how hurt you were.

but he really started to get suspicious when he noticed you were not raising your hand to correct today’s homework. he had helped you with that last week, and you had told him that you felt confident enough to propose your correction to the class ; which rarely happened. so why weren’t you raising your hand ?

he had a bad feeling about the answer… he didn’t care about giving you quick glances anymore, he just stared at your arms until one of your movements would make your sleeve reveal just a few inches of your skin.

and he was horrified to have his fears confirmed. the cuts that he had so often kissed while holding you in his arms were back. and he knew it was all because of him. and although his first thought was that it was not his job to heal them anymore, he couldn’t bring himself to act unbothered.

he had loved you for long enough to know that you needed him right now. or maybe he still loved you ? it was not clear, but it didn’t matter right now. what mattered was that he needed you to listen to what he wanted to say, even if that was the last thing you accepted to hear from him.

« y/n, we need to talk » he told you once you got out of the classroom. you looked up at him ; his face was unusually austere. he carefully grabbed your shoulder and took you away from everyone else.

« i can’t… i couldn’t walk out of there pretending like i didn’t see what your arms looked like » he started. « now listen, i know i fucked up, but i still care. and you still matter. whatever our relationship is doesn’t define you and most importantly, these don’t define you » he pointed at your wrists, his brows furrowed with concern. « so please, i’m begging you, keep in mind that i’m always here if you need to talk. always. and if you don’t want to talk to me that’s fine, but in that case, please find someone else. for the sake of everything we've been through together, don't let everything you’ve accomplished go to waste » and he wrapped his arms around you in the strongest hug he had ever given.

⇀ 𝐛𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨

it had already been a week. and bokuto had absolutely no idea what to do. call you ? text you ? probably not. what would he even say ? « hi, sorry for slamming the door in your face after screaming at you for fifteen minutes. am i still your boyfriend ? » awful idea.

and while bokuto was pondering every option he had left to get in touch with you, you were left in the darkest place of your mind. and you hadn’t felt like that in a few months. because bokuto used to always be there, his number on speed dial whenever you feared you would relapse. and thanks to his unwavering support, you hadn’t. but was there anything in this world that was truly unwavering ? you really started to doubt it. and now that bokuto had left you, what could carry the pain away ? whatever the answer was, you were in no condition to think rationally about it.

you remembered how he used to celebrate every improvement in your mental health, how strong of a cornerstone he had been for you. and just the fact of not knowing where you guys were at after your fight was enough to make you feel like you were drowning again.

you were overflowing with emotions that you thought you couldn’t control, and apart from holding on tight to bokuto’s chest, you only knew one way to feel better.

you loved him, you really did. but after a week without hearing from him, you started to think that maybe his feelings were not as real as he pretended they were. and how could you not blame him for that ? for letting you down so fast ?

curled up in your bed, tears were streaming down your face ; because you felt weaker than you had promised yourself to be. you were exhausted, in every sense of the word, yet there was still a tiny bit of strength left in your body that made you grab your phone and open your conversation with bokuto. the last message was a bitter pill to swallow : « no problem babe, i’m always here for you ». it was just a week ago but it felt like an eternity had passed. your fingers started slowly typing on the screen and immediately hit sent, knowing that you would second guess your message if you re-read it. « can we talk? », just three words, it was the maximum you could get off of your chest right now.

but bokuto did not answer. for the simple reason that he was too busy catching his breath in front of your door. he frantically knocked, not stopping until you opened it.

« oh my god, are you okay ?! » he exclaimed, patting your entire body like he wanted to make sure you were well and truly there. and once he had made sure of that, he pulled you against his chest like he wasn’t planning on letting you go ever again. « did- did you… » he ventured to ask, not wanting to finish his sentence precisely because he was afraid of your answer. but when he heard you let out a muffled sob against his chest, his fears instantly got replaced by guilt. more than he had ever felt. « you’re alright, i got you. i got you now… » he murmured, his hands stroking your back tenderly. « we’ll get through this together, ok ? we’ll show the world how strong you are. because i know you are. »

⇀ 𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐬𝐚

yes, sakusa had run away. and he was glad he had. because he knew how hurtful he could be with his words, and he had enough respect not to inflict that to you. but as he made his way back home, doubt started installing in his head. what if he shouldn’t have left you after your fight ? he immediately shook the thought away. no, you were good now. you were better. nothing like who you were when he met you.

and sakusa could be very convincing when he needed to, including with himself. that’s why he didn’t get in touch with you for the next three days, because he thought you just needed some time for yourself.

but when he received a worried text from komori when he got out of the gym after practice, he changed his mind within seconds. « i just saw y/n, something felt off. maybe you should check on them ? ».

sakusa felt a wave of guilt descend upon of him. of course he should. it was his fucking job to offer you his help, even when he thought you didn’t need it. and especially when he knew what you had already been through. he cursed himself all the way to your house, where he could only imagine how lonely you felt. not wanting to waste any more time, he pulled out his phone to call you. and heaved a relieved sigh at the sound of your voice : « hey, are you ok ? like, right now are you doing ok ? » he asked hastily.

you sat on your bed and rubbed your strained eyes, fiddling with the cloth of your t-shirt. « i- yeah, i’m good… » you lied. « i’m at your door, open up please, i gotta see you » he said before hanging up.

you knew sakusa was not going to take no for an answer. so, after wiping your tears and putting on a long-sleeved hoodie and sweatpants, you went to open the door.

« hi… » you uttered quietly. sakusa didn’t dare to move. he had been so determined to get to your house, but now that you were standing in front of him, he wasn’t so sure of what he was supposed to do.

you decided to be the first to break the silence, « i’m okay. and i’m sorr… » « sorry. about everything. » he pre-empted you. seeing you like this made him fear the worst. so he gently grabbed your wrists like he wanted to hold your hands, when in reality he just wanted to confirm his thoughts. and when he saw you stiffen at his touch, he knew he had guessed right. « come here » he whispered before going in for a hug. but you pulled away at the last second. « can we… go to my room ? i- i feel better there » you asked timidly.

he didn’t even answer and simply wrapped his arm around your shoulder before taking you to your bedroom where you immediately curled up on your bed. you didn’t want sakusa to see you like this, but you were in no position to fight back anymore. quietly, he laid beside you and pulled you in a warm embrace, just tight enough to let you know that he got you now.

when he noticed you were trying to find something to say, to explain yourself, he shushed you with a kiss on your shoulder. « you don’t have to speak if you don’t want to. but i want you to listen to me very carefully : don’t ever think that you’re back to square one now. you’ve dealt with this before, you’ve grown and you can do it again as long as you promise yourself to get back up. and i won’t leave your side. you deserve so much more than what you give yourself, and i’m here to remind you »

⇀ 𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚

tsukishima’s pride was important to him, everyone knew it. the only thing he valued as much as his pride was probably you. but during your arguments, the scale always tipped in his pride’s favor, you simply could not compete.

but surprisingly enough, it was you who had told him to go away after getting in the most heated argument you had ever had. and he didn’t have to be told twice : you had shattered his beloved pride, and he was not going to stay here begging for your mercy.

he still loved you, but he also had no problem ignoring you at school. yet for some reason, this argument didn’t sit well with him. well, no arguments ever sat well with him, but today felt different.

ignoring you was one of the most hurtful things tsukishima could ever do to you. he had helped you through so much, and suddenly becoming a stranger to him was slowly bringing you back down.

« it’s just one time, i won’t relapse » you thought the first time you tried to cope with the pain the way you used to. but you feared it wouldn’t be just one time. you were diving into what you had said goodbye to ; but now that tsukishima was ignoring you, there was no one to stop you from falling, right ?

well, that would have been true if he hadn’t kept a discreet but attentive eye on you. which is why he knew very well that you had gone back to your old habits. and he needed to do something about it.

but he wasn’t good with words, and he feared that actions would not be enough this time. he needed something more permanent, something that you could keep with you all the time. so he decided to do something he had never done before, and gave it to you as soon as it was done…

receiving a letter from tsukishima was definitely not something you expected. but what was written in it was even less expected.

« i’m not the best at this kind of stuff, but… i really need you to stop being so hard on yourself. i know it’s not something i usually say, but i fell in love with you because i learned to love your imperfections. and you have to start doing the same about yourself. please. and if you need to be held, to be listened to, i’ll be there. but i wanted to write something because i want you to be able to read this as much as you need, as much as you want. i want you to get better, but even more than that, i want you to want to get better. you can do it, i believe in you more than you can think. please come to me if you need it. i love you ».

the tears that streamed down your face had a salty taste, but for the first time in a long time, they tasted like hope as well. and the next time you came face to face with yourself and your thoughts, your eyes found find their way back to the letter, and you knew that there were people that still believed in you, counted on you, loved you. tsukki was just the first one of a long list. (<3)

⇀ 𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮

he had been there through everything. more than you would have imagined. which is probably why you felt desperately empty ever since he got so angry at you that he left without looking back. but at the time, it simply had not crossed his mind that you would suffer so deeply from his words.

but you did. a lot. and that was the reason you found yourself crying on your bedroom floor, not even able to be mad at anyone but yourself.

still oblivious to the true damage, atsumu thought he could get back to you by pretending like nothing had happened. he often did that because, to him, what was in the past belonged in the past. except that today, and in your situation, it could not work.

« wanna grab something to eat ? » was the first text he sent you. and you didn’t feel like answering, so you didn’t. « are you still mad ? i’m not <3 » was the second one. but you still didn’t feel like answering. maybe it was your fault ? maybe you were overreacting while you were just supposed to play it cool like he did ? but you would have played it cool if you knew how to.

when atsumu decided to go to your house, it was initially to apologize in person. he had not planned on seeing you looking the way you did, which was a heart-wrenching reminder of the dark period of time you had gotten through together. but here he was, standing in front of you, feeling more helpless than ever. he knew too well the look into your eyes, one that he hadn’t seen in a long time.

he dropped the pack of snacks he was holding in his hands before cupping your cheeks. « oh no, no, no. i fucked up, didn’t i ? i am… so so so sorry. c-can you forgive me ? » he stammered, absolute panic in his eyes as he took you in his arms. why would i have to forgive you ? you thought. i’m the only one to blame.

but atsumu seemed to also hear the things you didn’t say, and he refused to let you feel guilty for anything. ever so gently, he took your hands in his before placing the softest kisses on your wrists that were still covered by the sleeves of your hoodie. « i probably won’t ever forgive myself for leaving you alone. but promise me you’ll always come to me if you need help, or any kind of support, hugs, kisses… you name it. i’ll be your coping mechanism, and i’ll be the best you’ve ever had »

and he kept holding you for a long time, at least until he felt your breath become steady again. and if you thought atsumu was doting before, prepare yourself to be even more amazed now.

⇀ 𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮

fighting with osamu was not frequent, fortunately. but when fights occured, it was bad. really bad. he tended to think that you could endure as much as atsumu when it came to harsh words ; but you couldn’t.

kind of like his brother, samu had a tendency to leave the past behind and pretend like nothing happened when he got in touch with you after a fight. and that’s what he did a week ago, after one of the biggest arguments that you had ever had.

too happy that he seemed to still want to be your boyfriend, you didn’t have the courage to tell him how you had gone back to your old habits during the time you were on bad terms. but as they said, old habits died hard, and your destructive thoughts were still very present even when things seemed to have gotten back to normal.

yet samu was not blind, and he noticed that you were acting a bit more distant since last week, since your fight. but he still thought that your problems could be solved by just keeping on pretending like everything was ok. and eventually, things would turn out ok by themselves, right ?

you were laying on his bed, turned on your side as you scrolled on your phone. usually you would have had an arm swung around him, but you didn’t want to take any risk, so you kept your distances.

« hey, come closer baby. we’ve barely cuddled today » he told you before lazily wrapping his arm around your waist.

feeling nervous, you swallowed the lump in your throat before putting your phone on the nightstand. « i’m going to sleep, samu », you said, stretching your arm to turn off the light.

but he was quicker than you and gently grabbed your arm, careful not to apply any pressure on it. his eyes widened, he had barely seen your wrist but it had been enough to notice that the scars were recent. he put two and two together and looked at you dead in the eyes ; you looked ashamed, and it broke his heart. « when did y- was it because of me ? » he asked, his voice faintly shaking. you pulled away from his hand and held your arm against you, sinking in the pillow. « no, of course not. it’s nothing » you breathed out, looking away to avoid his gaze. but he was quick to make you face him again, with a slight pressure of his fingertips on your red cheeks. « there’s only one thing that i hate more than seeing you in pain. it’s knowing that i caused this pain. let me help you, y/n. please. you deserve to feel better. i’m sorry i didn’t give you as much love as you gave me. and i’m sorry for behaving like an asshole when you needed me. just… fuck, i just love you ».

tears started prickling the corner of your eyes, but he saw you trying to hold them back. with the most gentle look in his eyes, he proposed to turn off the light if it made you feel better. and you nodded ; you knew that you’d eventually had to have a face-to-face conversation with him. it was the only way to get better. but right now you just wanted to be held without thinking about what he’d see. or wouldn’t see.

so he turned off the light and let yourself get comfortable in bed before wrapping you in his embrace once again. his soft breath against your neck was obviously not enough to make all your pain magically go away, but it let you know that he had your back. and it was all that mattered.

⇀ 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮

« i don’t want to do this anymore, y/n ! » tendou had yelled, making this sentence the peak of your argument. six words, and they were on replay in your minds since four days. you couldn’t believe that almost two years of relationship had ended so abruptly. but you had to face the truth : tendou had enough of you. and obviously you linked that to the turbulent start of your relationship. you knew it hadn’t been easy for him to deal with your self harm when you had just started dating. yet he had managed to make you feel so much better that you had been sober for about a year, all thanks to him. but maybe you hadn’t been grateful enough ? maybe that was why he had decided to end things now ?

the only thing you knew for sure was that he was gone, and you felt like you had lost your anchor.

you had spent the weekend in your dorm, and it had been a painful weekend. so painful that you did not get out of bed on monday morning ; it was just too much to handle. deep down you knew that you were not handling your problems the right way… and escaping reality was not viable.

but little did you know that tendou wanted nothing more than to see you again in the hallways and finally have a heart-to-heart conversation with you. and when he didn’t see you in class, he started to freak out. he knew how it was to feel alone and rejected ; and he started to fear that he had caused you to feel exactly that. so he did not follow his friends to the cafeteria at lunch and headed to your dorm instead, hoping that you’d open the door.

and you did. thank god you did. but panic started bubbling in his chest when his eyes laid on your face.

« alright, come here » he told you with a forced smile before pulling you in his embrace. truthfully, he didn’t feel like smiling, but he knew that the last thing you needed was to think you made him feel bad. when he was with you, his main goal was to cheer you up, he’d deal with himself later. « angel… did you do it again ? » he asked, his tone being the furthest thing from judgmental. you muttered a quiet apology, your face buried in his white uniform jacket. but something lingered on your mind. angel ? it sounded right, but you knew it wasn’t. not anymore. « don’t apologize ! the only person you owe an apology to is yourself » he whispered against your ear. slowly, he put his hands on your waist before bringing you to your bed where he sat right next to you, still refusing to take his hands off of your body.

« tendou, you don’t have to do this… » you muttered, knowing that you weren’t supposed to be this close anymore. « i’m your ex, you don’t owe me anything ».

he immediately looked down to meet your eyes, an eyebrow raised in confusion. « your ex ? wh- you think i broke up with you ? y/n, when i said that i didn’t want to do this anymore, i was talking about fighting with you ! i’m sorry, i should have texted you these last few days, but i thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me »

a tear rolled down your cheek. tendou’s words sounded like heaven right now. maybe you weren’t alone after all ?

« now, do you need me to get you something ? band-aids ? anything ? » he asked, caressing your hair with his right hand. you nodded your head no and kept your head buried in his neck, like you were waiting for his scent to go to your head. « i know you’ve been through a lot, and i’m proud of you no matter what. but, you know… even though i have enough love for the both of us, i’d really want you to have enough love for yourself » he said and placed a kiss on top of your head, waiting for you to say something. but he sensed that you were not ready yet. and he was ok with that, the last thing he wanted to do was to pressure you. it was going to be a long path, but you had already done it, and you were going to do it again. and he’d be there the whole time.

ok so if you’ve read until there it probably means that you needed comfort (i hope i have given you enough) : so if you are in this situation yourself, PLEASE don’t be afraid to ask for help, you can and you will get better. i’m rooting for you like saeko roots for karasuno ❤️️

@toworuu (didn’t forget about you ^^)

#haikyuu #haikyuu angst #hq angst #hq comfort #haikyuu comfort #bokuto x trader #kuroo x trader #tsukishima x reader #sakusa x reader #osamu x reader #atsumu x reader #tendou x reader

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fridaythe13ththeseries · 1 year ago

Text

Reflecting - Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

The quill pen lay on the desk looking like it did the day Lewis had first placed his curse on all the items in the antique store. No matter which charm, incantation, spell or invocation Jack and Rashid had worked over it, on it and with it, the curse remained. The quill was as indestructible as ever.

Jack slammed shut the old book they had been reading from. “It’s pointless. There isn’t any counter-spell to remove a curse like this. Lewis paid for it with his very soul, and that is one thing we cannot change. I fear these objects will stay cursed until, well, until forever.”

Rashid nodded slowly, finally having to concede Jack’s point. It was too strong a pact. Hell, it was a pact made with Satan himself, and there was just no getting around that, no fine print to pull out and say “Aha! Gotcha!” It was a done deal.

Micki had been watching the two of them for hours, getting coffee when they needed it, or books they wanted to refer to. She waited on the customers who came into the shop, as well. But mostly she just hovered, hoping, with each book and each spell, they would find the one that worked.

“Well, what are we going to do, Jack?” she asked, trying to remain calm. “We don’t really have a lot of options here.”

“I know, Micki, I know.” Jack said, rubbing his forehead with both hands. He was tired, but he couldn’t just go to bed when Ryan and his mother were depending on them, relying on their help to save them from whoever this people were who had kidnapped them and demanded such a strange ransom.

“Micki, I am afraid Jack is correct.” Rashid spoke, before Micki could say more. “The curse invoked by your uncle is unbreakable. It will be here until the end of all there is.”

“Wow.” Johnny said now from his seat further away from the rest of them. “That is one heck of a long time.”

Micki threw him one of her disapproving looks, and Johnny took the smile off his face.

“Well, we can’t give up. We have to think of something.” she said, picking up one of the books Jack and Rashid had been through already.

“Oh, I have no intention of giving up, Micki.” Jack answered, standing up and stretching now. “We just have to come up with a plan to get Ryan and his mother free from these people, without anyone being harmed.”

“And get the manifest, Jack.” Johnny added. “We really need to try and get that back, too.”

“Yes, Johnny.” Jack replied. “We can try, at least. You are right, the manifest is very important. There are still so many antiques out there, and without that book, we are going to have to rely on blind luck. And frankly, that idea does not appeal to me.”

Jack picked up the quill pen and walked over to Johnny. “Can you put this where it belongs, please? Safe and sound back in the vault.”

Johnny nodded and took the pen from Jack, but stood there holding it, looking at it.

“Jack.” Micki said. “Do you have any ideas as to how to go about all this, without having the information this person wants?”

Jack looked at her and rubbed his salt-and-pepper bearded chin, one of his classic ‘thinking’ poses. He raised a finger and said, “Ah, I think I have an idea. Remember when we were just looking for the stolen manifest? We were working on locating spells, to try and pinpoint where it had been taken to. Pretty hard when you are just looking for some inanimate object.”

Rashid looked at Jack and smiled. “My old friend, I think I know where you are heading with this idea. The book was just a book. But…”

Jack cut him off. “But Ryan is a living, breathing human being. And not only do we have pictures of him, we also have items he touched and owned. Much better tools to work a locating spell with, am I right?” Jack was beaming at his brainstorm.

“Very good, Jack.” Rashid said, nodding, his red fez hat still perched askew on his head. “The spell should work very easily indeed.”

The two older men began clearing the desk of the many books, papers and scrolls they had been studying.

“Jack, I had a thought.” It was Johnny, still standing holding the quill pen Jack had asked him to put away. “What if… What if we used something in the vault to try and find where Ryan was?”

Jack’s face went pale, and he was sure Rashid made a gasping sound. But it was Micki who spoke up first.

“Out of the question!” she snapped, walking closer to Johnny. “We are not going to use any of those damned items, ever. Did you learn nothing from using the amulet? Or from that horrible coin of Ziocles?” Micki crossed her arms over her chest at the memory of the coin. It had been one of the worst items they had ever dealt with. If it wasn’t for the quick thinking of Ryan and Jack, she would have been one of the coin’s many victims.

“Look, I just meant…” Johnny began, but the looks on the faces of the three before him stopped him from finishing his sentence. “Fine. Never mind, forget I said anything.” He turned away from them and headed down the basement stairs.

Micki still stood with her arms tight across her chest.

“Micki, he means well.” Jack said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “He’s just trying to help.”

She turned and looked at Jack. “I know, I know. But really, Jack. Use one of the cursed items? No way.”

“No, I agree. They aren’t an option.” Jack nodded. “Just remember, Johnny wants to help. He doesn’t have to be here, but he’s here. And that counts for a lot.”

She smiled. “Yeah, I know. But I’m worried about him, Jack. I think this place is starting to get to him. After Ryan and his mom are back safe and sound, I think we need to sit down with Johnny and have a serious talk. If he wants to leave, to stop helping us find the antiques, then maybe it’s time for us to let him go.”

Jack only answered her with a little nod. Truthfully, the thought of doing all this with just himself and Micki was a daunting prospect. Johnny, however rash and impatient, was a big help to them. But he couldn’t dwell on all that now.

“Micki.” he said, sitting down in the desk chair. “We are going to need a picture of Ryan and something he owned, something personal.”

Micki thought for a second, then smiled. “I have a picture of him in my room, and one of the drawings he did. Can’t get more personal that his own art, right?” She turned and went up the steps to the second floor.

Jack and Rashid busied themselves with preparing their workspace on the desk, getting ready to work a spell they knew would be a success.

Johnny, having stopped halfway up the basement stairs to listen to his friends talk about him, came up the rest of the way and approached the two men. “How can I help?” he asked, determined to prove himself to them, once and for all.

#friday the 13th: the series #micki foster #80s tv #jack marshak #curious goods #johnny ventura #rashid #reflecting #fanfic

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watermelonlipstick · 4 years ago

Text

Stabbed

This was written following an anon request that read as follows:

Hello sweetie, can I please request a dean x reader one shot in which she gets stabbed during a rough hunt and it's a race against time to save her (maybe Sam is the one driving and dean gets in the backseat with her?) And dean is scared of losing her and he has a panic attack after she wakes up but she manages to calm him down?

Obviously everyone’s experiences with panic attacks are different, but I tend to think if Dean had one it might manifest more externally as a violent outburst; I think he would subconsciously feel like it’s a more acceptable way to express ~freaking the fuck out~. This fic is sort of loosely set during early season 3, partly because that contextualization made sense to me with what you were describing and partly because I feel like that tenderhearted, slightly-less-jaded Dean would be more likely to allow himself to be perceived as vulnerable in such a fraught moment.

I’ve also taken a couple liberties with the medical situation described for literary purposes. 😋 Don’t @ me, I know this isn’t exactly how hypovolemic shock plays out.

Title: Stabbed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4206

Summary: Dean’s anxiety gets the best of him when the reader appears fatally injured on a hunt, and is soothed only after the danger is gone.

Warnings: canon-appropriate violence, description of panic attack, swearing

Sam slammed the door once Dean had hauled you into the backseat, propping you up like a mannequin next to him on the bench. Your vision was starting to fade in and out, but the sense memory of the muscles in Dean’s side and the leather seat underneath you were comforting anyway. It seemed like the car started flying before Sam had even closed the driver’s side door and you tried hard to focus on Dean’s babbling.

“You’ll be able to give me shit about this one forever, right, kid? Should’ve listened to you, you said they would’ve left the barn by the time we got there. Always so smart, when am I going to learn?” He was trying to chuckle but it came out breathy and wrong, Dean never quite able to actually hit the casual affect he wanted in moments like this. Honestly, it made you more nervous, knowing that for injuries he wasn’t worried about he wanted to look over you with clinical precision, chastise you for being careless. He only did this pretend calm when he was trying to keep it together—you used to think it was only for you or Sam but after a few years and more than a few bad scares you started to understand it for the defense mechanism it truly was. Not that you needed extra evidence that this was bad; you could feel the life leeching out of you like a water balloon with a pinprick leak.

“Hey, come on—open your eyes for me, lemme see those stunners,” he said, guiding your chin up where you had begun to slump onto his shoulder. “Perfect, yeah, just like that. Hey, stay with me—”

You mustered up everything you had to swim to the surface of the sleep-darkness your body so desperately wanted and straightened your spine to take a deep breath. Bad idea, the wounds in your side feeling like they were splitting you clean in half even through the haze. At least it woke you up for a moment to catch Dean’s eyes, fiery with panic even as he tried to smile.

“Dean, I—” you started, feeling like your throat was full of broken glass.

“Babe, don’t try to talk, it’s okay, you can tell me whatever it is when we get to a hospital.”

Sam turned his head away from the rural highway the Impala was absolutely sailing down to look back at his older brother. “We’re hours away from a hospital, we’ve gotta go back to the motel,” he said, low and serious.

“If we’re hours away from a hospital then I guess we’re driving for a couple hours, aren’t we, Sammy?” Dean was getting worse and worse at covering the hard edge of fear-driven anger in his voice as the seconds ticked by.

“Dean, we—she’s—we don’t have a couple hours.”

Dean closed his eyes tight and set his jaw firm. “We’re going to a fucking hospital.”

His brother swerved deftly around a giant pothole, somehow able to turn the wheel so slightly that the car’s path barely changed. “Listen to me. She can’t bleed like that for long enough to get to a hospital. We have to try to handle this one ourselves or there’s no chance—”

The whole conversation felt like it was happening to someone else, your senses starting to detach from your body, and you couldn’t hold onto those trains of thought for long enough to process them. You were forced to expend all the energy you had on what you needed to say, and reached for Dean’s hand with a weak grip.

“Dean, look at me.”

He sounded like a hurt puppy when he said, “please,” and you knew he was asking you not to make him listen but you were worried you were out of options, out of time. That frantic smile looked almost crazed as it started to quiver on his face, eyelashes clumping with moisture.

“Sam, can you hear me too?” you asked, frustrated in an abstract way at how frail your voice sounded.

He gave one tight nod in the rearview mirror with a jaw set firm as iron, and when he said “Yes—yeah,” it was choked.

“I love you idiots so much. These last—ow, Jesus—however many years have been some of the most fun I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t take it back for anything. Sam, I—you’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I—fuck,” you winced, something about the breath you took to keep from crying sending an electric jolt of pain through you and doubling you over.

“It’s okay, I know,” Sam said up into the rearview mirror, and you couldn’t tell if the way the headlights were falling on the trees impossibly fast was something about your sight being distorted, because if it wasn’t then you were surprised the Impala hadn’t broken some kind of land speed record. You made a mental note to tell Dean to start drag racing before remembering you might not tell him anything ever again. What you were nearly positive you weren’t imagining were the break in Sam’s voice or the reflection of tears on his cheek as he locked eyes with you in the mirror.

By the grace of whatever higher power the Winchesters were on the good side of at the time, you connected with him in the reflection, were able to absorb some fraction of the bone-crushing, pick-you-up-off-your-feet hug you wanted so badly from Sam in that moment. You tried to be thankful for what you got and drifted back to Dean’s gaze.

“And Dean, baby,” you continued, some bizarre flutter of second wind giving you enough force to clench your hand tightly around his and remember to keep your breaths shallow, keep talking even if your eyes couldn’t quite focus. “This was not your fault, you gotta—promise—me you know it wasn’t.”

“I, ah—” he faltered, throat vibrating as he tried to keep the inevitable tears down.

You gripped his hand tighter, felt your fingers going numb, and tried to smile hoping it didn’t look too grotesque on a face almost certainly drained of lifelike color. “C’mon, gotta obey a last wish, right?” The grief-stricken chuckle of surprise that dark joke punched out of Dean opened the floodgates, and tears burst forward to stream down his face. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

You’d thought of some goofy punchline to try to give, some ‘no sleeping with random girls for at least a year, want you guys to pour one out for me every day’ bullshit but seeing the love and pain in Dean’s eyes as your vision came in and out zapped it away. “I love you baby. I just—thank you for—everything—and—”

It was getting too hard to take even those shallow breaths, your hearing gone fuzzy around the edges, and the last thing you remembered was seeing a streetlight on the edge of town as Dean took your face in his hands, “I know, kid, I know, come on—please,” fading out like he was being zipped away through a long tunnel.

You were completely motionless in Dean’s arms, pulse gone thready enough that Dean was having a hard time finding it through the rumble of the car.

“Fuck, Sam, FUCK!” Dean screamed, one hand wrapped up in the hair at the back of your neck as he fought desperately to keep you upright.

Sam muscled through the lump in his throat and tried to stay focused. “When we get there you need to be ready to go, okay, Dean? HEY, listen to me. Don’t quit on me like this,” he barked, trying to catch his brother’s eyes in the rearview mirror without taking his focus off the road, terrified at the speed of the Impala and the potential of repeating what had happened the last time he’d had someone he loved bleeding out in the backseat.

The car skittered around two corners and Sam prayed as hard as he had ever prayed for anything that there weren’t any Keystone cops looking to meet their month’s ticket quota by hanging around dark parking lots with radar guns, willed Dean to stop punching the window of the car with the hand that wasn’t clutching your head to his chest. He couldn’t decide if he thought it would’ve been better to have Dean drive, if he would’ve been able to hold it together any better than Dean was right now, if Dean could’ve focused if he was driving and not feeling you drift in his arms. There wasn’t time to figure it out and it ultimately didn’t matter, his brother turning into a bomb in the backseat and Sam needed to figure out a way to funnel Dean’s sheer panic back into the denial that would fuel him to keep moving, do anything to keep you alive, regardless of whether there was any hope left.

“It’s not over, you’ve gotta keep it together. She needs you. See, we’re right around—"

But he didn’t get to finish through the flurry of action as he pulled into the motel. He careened the Impala straight up to the door of the room, more than half of the car parked over a strip of grass intended to make the nondescript building feel more homey. By the time he’d torn the keys from the ignition Dean was practically leaping out of the backseat, carrying you into the room a quarter step after Sam half-busted the door open, laying you on a bed and tearing your t-shirt off with his bare hands like a cheap wrestling gimmick.

Sam didn’t bother closing the motel door, moving too fast to care as he ripped a cork out of whiskey bottle with his teeth and poured it all over your now-exposed side, grimacing with nausea at the way it didn’t make you draw back in pain even a little. Dean tried his best to thread a needle with floss and remember whether it was better or worse that the blood was still flowing fast and bright red out of those stab wounds rather than slowing or oxidizing—this is bush league shit Dad pounded in years ago why can’t I remember fucking any of it? His hands shook with too much adrenaline to get the floss through the needle but Sam was already working on patching the biggest wound, tying knots with the rapid precision of a surgeon.

It was only when he started getting in Sam’s way that the younger Winchester said anything more, encouraged that Dean was at least trying to pull himself together. He began talking through the stitches, muttering when he had to pull one tight with his teeth.

“We—Dean, look at me.” Sam drilled into him with those brackish eyes, struggling to maintain the appearance of being in control that his brother needed of him when he could feel you going cold underneath his fingertips. “We’re going to need to give her a lot of fluids when she wakes up; all we have is beer. Go get some stuff for her to drink—electrolytes, she’ll need electrolytes.”

“I’m not going to fucking leave, asshole!” Dean was strung out and not even pretending to hide it anymore, voice taking on that juvenile squeak Sam had only heard a handful of times since Dean was a teenager.

He took a deep breath in an effort to soothe himself before speaking as clearly and firmly to Dean as possible, no room for negotiation. “Dean. This is not helping. The best thing you can do for her is to go get some fluids. Gatorade, OJ, bananas too, if they have them. She’ll need iron but we can deal with other food once she wakes up.”

“What if she doesn’t—” Dean half-moaned, sounding like he’d been struck by something that was sucking all the oxygen from his lungs, looking like he was on the last ten feet of a hundred-mile race.

“She’s going to wake up.”

And Sam’s stubbornness actually did help Dean a bit in that moment, knowing that even if his life was about to change radically, that never would. “Go get some fucking Gatorade.”

By the time Dean came back—arms filled with so many bags of sports drinks that it would be comical in any other context—his brother had stitched up every wound, cleaned off most of the blood, and put all your limbs atop high stacks of pillows in an attempt to get as much blood to your vital organs as possible. Dean was near catatonic with the singular focus of a task, which was Sam’s intention. One thing at a time.

After about five minutes of sitting alongside Sam watching you, thick, viscous panic bubbled back up to the surface.

At first, he was muttering like he was talking to himself. “She told me, she fucking told me they wouldn’t be in the barn anymore, I didn’t listen. I should’ve been right behind her, Sam, what the fuck was I thinking—she was—she—she was alone, they wouldn’t have—” and then the way his voice built to a fever pitch matched his body, Dean perched on the mattress like a sailboat in a tempest, slammed against invisible waves of panic.

“It wasn’t your fault, Dean. You couldn’t have known—”

“She was alone against five of them, Sam, do you get that? I left her fucking ALONE!” Dean wailed, springing forward from the bed with eruptive energy and bashing the nightstand lamp hard enough that its base shattered against the opposite wall, coming clean out of the socket as easily as if it hadn’t been plugged in. Sam flinched but didn’t get up, instead taking a quick visual inspection that no shards of ceramic somehow bounced back to cut your still body. By the time he glanced up again he only had a millisecond to react as Dean threw a chair from the kitchenette against the wall, exploding the mirror there into shimmering beads of glass and ricocheting back, forcing Sam block it with a forearm lest it hit him or you.

“DEAN, enough!” he yelled, crossing over to his brother with a few powerful strides and grappling with him, battling to keep Dean still as the older of the Winchester brothers fought to destroy the room to match the chaos in his mind. Sam knew exactly what was going on, the way Dean’s brain converted fear to rage, but hated when his brother got like this, not only because it cut so deep to see him in pain but because the explosiveness was so similar to the knock-down drag-outs they’d grown up with, made it impossible to try to fix the root of the problem.

Sam tackling Dean to the ground was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes.

“Do I pull this shit when you guys are sleeping?” you croaked from the mattress, trying to sit up and immediately abandoning that plan, stilling yourself and holding your breath until the pain settled a fraction.

Sam and Dean scrambled to get to their feet and ran over to you, hovering over the bed looking like their backs had a light dusting of glitter rather than a million tiny shards of glass.

“What’re—are you okay? What do you remember?” Sam blurted out, grabbing a bottle of Gatorade out of a plastic bag and cracking it open for you. He snatched a pillow and helped you sit up slowly, jamming it under your head so you could drink.

“Well, I’ve definitely felt better,” you tried to chuckle, but the tension it caused in your abdominal muscles made you wince. “I’m really sorry, you guys, I shouldn’t have—” you began, immediately stopped by the way Sam and Dean shook their heads, sucked on their teeth.

“I’m—ah,” Sam started, smiling self-deprecatingly through the shake in his voice and looking down at the ground for a beat with his tongue in his cheek. It was like his body knew that the worst of the crisis had passed and refused to let him hide his emotions for one second further. After a second he met your eyes again, faintest hint of tears in his eyes. “I’m really glad you’re up.”

Behind him, Dean collapsed into himself, his expression simultaneously complete relief and like he’d seen a ghost. You peered around Sam to meet his gaze. “Hey, dork,” you breathed, unable to come up with anything to match the weight of the moment.

He opened his mouth a few times and couldn’t find anything either, wincing and biting his lip hard as he rubbed the back of his head nervously. “I’m so sorry,” he finally choked out.

As always, Sam knew what Dean needed and snatched the car keys off the table as his brother tried in vain to keep his restless limbs still. He gazed at you with such naked thankfulness it made you smile involuntarily. “I’m going to see how much red meat I can find you, I’ll be right back, okay? Drink as many of these as you can and don’t stand up alone.” You nodded gratefully to him as he backed out the door.

When Sam left, Dean still shifted uncomfortably on his feet, clenching and unclenching his hands until he ultimately jammed them deep into the pockets of his coat with enough force that it shook loose almost all of the glass, sending it floating to the ground around him as if he was a mirage. You could see, even as he stood a few paces away from the bed, that his breathing was quickened from the rapid, shallow movements of his chest and neck. “I’m—ah, I didn’t think—I shouldn’t have—” he stammered against a jaw locked shut tensely enough to make the muscles bulge out of his cheeks, and the lack of the self-assuredness that was normally so Dean to you made him seem unbelievably young, made you want to leap across the room and wrap him up in your arms. As it was, you beckoned him over with a shaky hand.

He walked over to you hesitantly, only sitting down on the side opposite your injuries when you patted the sheets next to you. Awkwardly trying to move your torso as little as possible, you tossed the pillows on that side to the floor and motioned for him to lay down.

“I don’t want to hurt—”

“I’ll be fine. Please?”

Reluctantly taking off his coat and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground, he gingerly tucked himself under your arm and laid his head on your chest. You faintly dragged your fingertips down his back, waiting for his heartbeat and uneven, shallow breathing to slow down. When they didn’t and all you felt was a spreading wetness on the remaining upper half of t-shirt you still had, you twisted laboriously to see Dean’s face.

Tears streamed down onto you, Dean biting his lip so hard to keep quiet you were shocked you couldn’t see blood, the whites of his teeth almost matching the pressure-blanched skin.

“Oh, Dean,” you hummed, pulling him close to you with your one arm. “Babe, I’m here, I’m right here. Everything’s okay; I’m okay, you get to treat me like a princess for a few days and I’ll learn for the hundredth time that I shouldn’t go off by myself.”

“I—I thought you were gone,” Dean whispered between stunted sobs breaking the words off in short staccato, still fighting to speak as though he wasn’t crying even as his tears soaked you.

You craned your neck slowly to kiss the top of his head. “Not gone, right here. Always going to be right here.”

“You were bleeding so mu—just like Sam, it was just like when Sam—” he faltered, speaking slowly to try to grab the reins of his voice as it shook.

“Not just like Sam, baby, I’m still here. Everyone’s okay. And Sam’s okay too, right?” You waited for him to confirm what you knew was true and emphasize your point, drawing back to meet his gaze when he didn’t. “Right?”

Reluctantly, Dean nodded. The redness around his eyes made his irises seem almost unreal in electric green contrast and you couldn’t believe you were so close to never seeing them again. His lashes were even darker than normal, spiky black frames formed with salty tears like cartoonish mascara. You waited a beat then let him settle back into your chest before continuing, feeling the choke-hiccupping of his breath stop even if it stayed rapid. “Everyone’s okay. You’re okay,” you hummed into his hair. “You’re okay, baby.”

The two of you stayed like that until Dean’s breathing finally steadied, waiting past the clearly forced long held breaths and through to the point that he genuinely seemed like he’d hit the smooth rhythm you knew so well. “How are you feeling?” you murmured.

“Like a bitch,” he grumbled softly against your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile, thankful beyond anything for the glint of humor back in Dean, that shimmer of normalcy returning.

“Sorry for scaring you.”

“I’m never fucking letting you out of my sight again,” he said, words still sticky with swirling emotion and muffled by his cheek pressed against you. You knew he was only partly joking but also that now was not the time to push back, just kissing his hair in response.

There was no way it took Sam an hour to get you a diner burger but you were thankful for his intuition nonetheless, because by the time he got back Dean was calm enough to get up and had even helped you to put on a new t-shirt—one of his black ones; he said it was because it was looser but you suspected it was some kind of metaphor, covering you with part of himself—and shimmy into a pair of mesh athletic shorts. Standing up for a shower was still too ambitious, but the fresh clothes made you feel a little less gross. He was trying his best to clean up as much broken glass as possible when his brother opened the door and tossed him a paper bag with a bubbly illustrated hamburger on it.

Walking into the room without taking his jacket off, Sam set your food on the nightstand and grabbed a motel binder of local attractions (minimal) as a makeshift tray for you to eat off of before carefully helping you to sit up a little more. “Double cheeseburger—eat it before the fries, you need the iron. Oh, and I almost forgot—couple of these too.” He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved two bottles in one big hand that appeared to be acetaminophen and an iron supplement.

“You’re the best, Sam.” It was nice to hear your voice sound more normal, lubricated with two bottles of Gatorade already, and you tried not to imagine how awkward or painful it was going to be to try to get up and go to the bathroom later.

The Winchesters sat on the other bed, still in their boots because of the rug of broken glass no one wanted to acknowledge, and Sam turned on whatever dumb comedy he could find first. For a fleeting moment it felt like any normal night on the road, nursing an injury and eating greasy food in a room you’d never see again past tomorrow morning, and you almost forgot that (minutes? hours? you still didn’t know how long you’d been out) earlier you thought you were saying goodbye to the two people you loved most, who’d moved heaven and earth and miles of rural highway to bring you back, whose superhero resilience you’d seen start to crack at the thought of losing you. A searing jolt of pain when you reached for another Gatorade reminded you all too much, and when you hissed both Sam and Dean leapt off the bed with faces contorted in concern.

“Just stretched too far, I’m okay.”

Watching them take twin deep breaths could’ve been funny and you hoped it would be in a few days—hoped in a few days laughing wouldn’t feel like being impaled. For now, you tried to drink in this little moment of peace and made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t take another one for granted ever again.

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