#I need a few more hours to emotionally recover

[crystallizedtwilight]

got married and lived happily together? Yeah I loved that ending too!

[phantoms-world-and-more]

Danny after a reveal gone wrong, is dropped into the DC universe by clockwork to "recover and let loose"

He learned that because this universe is swarming with heros it dosent reeeaaallly need protection

So for the first 2 months danny juat relaxes, using his connection with the ghosts and shades of gothem to get himself a pretty good appartment with a fair amount of free time amd cash

What he wasent expecting was for the ghosts of residential obsessed billionaire bruceie wayne's parents, thomas and martha, to ask him to protect bruce

Danny thinks it over and decided, 'fuck it, how much work could it be, besides i need to protect someone anyway'

.

.

.

Danny was contemplating walking up and punching batman in the face

Turns out the obsessed billionaire, is a parinoid creepy emotionally constipated vigilante

It was 3 weeks into protecting thomas and Martha's "little boy" and danny was already sick of it, and of bruce, the comious amounts of time danny spent knocking out goons was ridiculous, let alone and amount of times he needed to help out the robins

And how the fuck did he raise them, the little one is so violent he could rival the way his parents talked about ghosts

It was after mid afternoon, after danny day job and he's waiting for the sun to go down to keep mr.dark and brooding safe

It was then that another shade plopped itself on his lap, this one specifically had been following him for the last few days

It was 10 minutes later that the little shade gave him an idea, an amazing idea of how to make protecting the dumb fuck that was bruce wayne MUCH more fun, danny looked at the sun and he knew he had time

.

.

.

He got black cargo pants, a black tank top, a labcoat that he dyed toxic green, a white gas mask, one of those belts construction people wear to hold tools and stuff, combat boots, white gloves and a crap ton of scrap metal, househole appliances and a tool box

He spent the next 5 hours constructing little gadgets, remaking the fenton-thermos-model human and preparing for a night out.

.

.

.

Danny was set

In his labcoat was the hand held stuff

:extra tools, retractable boe staff, smoke bombs, mini fire works, trackers

In his cargo pants he had the more heave hitters: the guns he designed, more smoke bonbs, lipstick lazers, wire

But his belt was his favourite: the now human souping thermos, a harly quinn inspired mallet and the ectoplasm grenades,

Tonights going to be fun

.

.

.

Batman saw alot of things, lately things have been too easy, he got hit less, goons attacks hurt less and sometimes his rouge took too long to atrack ofter breaking out of arkham

It had set him on edge

Even his kids said things seemed easer, so he's not paranoid

Tonight however gave him many more questions

During the usual fight with riddler, a kid slightly younger than tim, wearing a gas mask, dropped from the roof like the spawn of satan, dropped smoke bombs, then the sounds of violence accured

when bruce could see again, all the goons were strung up on wire upsidedown

The riddler was tied to a chair which was hanging by one leg over a vat of...something with a smile drawn on his face and his eyes blindfolded

When he looked up the labcoat wearing kid was holding a mallet and a grenade of some kind

:awww dont worry, none of them will die, I'm like you in that sence, i dont kill people...howeverrr messing with them is fair game

Batman tried to stare him down but that made the kid laugh

:aww that wont work B, besides if i wanted to hurt you I'd of done it in the last 3 weeks

So this was why things were easer

With one last laugh the kid dropped the bomb and Lazarus filled Bruce's sights

[linics]

comforting bllk characters

featuring : i. rin, m. reo, m. kaiser

a/n : hi so ummm im back .!!! did you guys miss me ?? anyways my writers block was HORRIBLE but im recovered now i think. let’s ignore how ooc kaisers probably is because its based off of fics ive seen + edits. i’ll redo it later.

i. rin

as i referenced in the one where they comfort you, rin would be very closed off emotionally. even so, he’s like a fucking book with how he behaves.

it doesn’t take you long to realize just how much the u-20 game affected him. as much as he tried to turn his annoyance into motivation and actually doing something with it, sometimes it would become too much. whether that looks like him overworking himself or lashing out, it’ll always show through.

the most you could do is make sure he stays safe during it. showing up to the field at weird hours, ruining your sleep schedule, just to give him more water and a ride home considering he ran all the way there.

“why’re you here?” he’d scoff, panting slightly from all the work.

“woke up early, thought i’d stop by,” you lied, yes, but it was fine. he didn’t need to know you’d set at least 10 alarms to make sure you’d wake up and stay up.

he didn’t respond, so you just handed him a large water bottle. it was a spare, but it also was the biggest you’d had, so it’d have to make do.

“thanks.” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. the cold barrier that’d been there slowly flexing and melting away.

he wasn’t someone that you could just befriend instantly. every time the two of you hung out, you’d have to prove to him that you were there to stay. it was gradual.

most people gave up after the first couple of times when they realized they were practically back to where they started. that was except for you.

after taking a few sips of the water, he hands it back to you, not wanting it to interfere with his training. you grabbed it from him, then wandered over to the sidelines.

“where are you going?” he asked, though, if you paid enough attention, you’d notice he was anxious. very anxious.

“just over here, i don’t want you to hit me..” you said calmly, trying to lighten it slightly. you were careful to not wander too far from him.

he didn’t say anything to you afterwards, but you noticed the tension loosened again.

even though he wouldn’t let you interfere — which you have tried — he’d still let you care for him. maybe he knew it was because you’d get anxious and blame yourself if he didn’t let you help in some way.

m. reo

he would be anxious. i don’t care if this is ‘out of character’. for the most part, yeah he doesn’t stress much because he hasn’t had much to worry about. but the second he gets stressed out, he stresses, a lot. and because he hasn’t been exposed to much stress, he’s absolutely clueless on how to cope.

he’d be laying in bed — at his desk now? nope, he’s pacing. point being, he just can’t sit still, and god, he won’t stop babbling about nonsense.

“reo.” for the hundredth time, he’d cut you off completely. this was coming from the guy who felt it was rude to type when other people were typing, so you let it slide.

“and then — oh yeah, did you say something?” finally, some recognition.

“come sit down in front of me,” you pat the bed, clearing off the blankets so he could just crawl in. he did just that, sitting in front of you, his back facing you.

“like this?” he was always so hesitant with you. but you just responded in a hum of approval. you carefully started combing through his hair with your fingers, occasionally grazing his scalp and briefly massaging it. his hair was silky and clean.

he became quieter, his muscles slowly relaxing and calming.

“so, you wanna tell me what’s wrong?” you spoke quietly, careful to not ruin the calmness of the moment.

“it’s nothing big—” you stopped in your movements as he said that, and he knew that meant you were displeased.

“okay, okay, fine..” he mumbled.

m. kaiser

okay so.. i feel like now’s the perfect time for me to say i have not gotten to where he is in the manga. um! so what i planned to do for this is write how i think he acts, then correct it later on whenever i do catch up. i think i get him a bit though ?? currently i see him as a self destructive possibly alcoholic man. who takes after his dad who was abusive and an alcoholic, mom wasn’t in the picture. no clue how any of that relates to soccer but sure! i’ve heard a lot that he hits himself / chokes himself as a way of coping (after doing some research it’s for ideas. okay.) so that’s the route we’re gonna take with that. no clue if it’s true or not.

he really didn’t get it. no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t figure himself out. how was he supposed to understand others and beat others if he couldn’t even understand himself? he needed ideas—

was it illogical? yes, absolutely. did it work? also yes.

adrenaline from anything could be put to use to benefit. so, he did the thing he’s done for ages. maybe he’s began to rely on it for too long so he reached to it for the smallest things, he didn’t really care, though.

it worked, and until it stopped working, he wouldn’t stop abusing his body for his brain. it was nothing more than a vessel, anyways.

“kaiser.” even through your voice, his choking movements didn’t falter.

“just fuckin’ stop for a moment-” you were the only person he really let talk to him like that, even though it wasn’t often that you took advantage of it.

it worked enough for him to stop, just for a moment and catch his breath. it’s not like he wanted to pass out, anyways. the second he let go, you grabbed his hands.

“what is it?” he huffed, his voice groggy and rough.

“don’t do that. ‘what is it?’, you know exactly what it is.” it wasn’t uncommon for you to be mad at him or mildly rude, but even keeping it up for this long was abnormal.

“it works, well, it would’ve, if you didn’t disrupt me.” he rolled his eyes.

“that’s not the point and you know it.”

“then what is it?”

there was a silence for a few moments before you just decided to ask outright.

“what do you need help with this time?” you were still a bit petty, but you just hoped he wouldn’t pay too much attention to it.

“doesn’t concern you.”

“i’ll make it concern me. tell me.”

“why would i do that?”

god, was he always this annoying?

“okay, fine, whatever it is, i won’t interfere. how about you tell me, and if i can’t think of a solution by tomorrow, you can do whatever this is.”

there was another long silence as he considered it. it was appealing — all he had to do was tell you, and you could do all the work. the backup was there and it was exactly what he wanted. there wasn’t much time left in the day anyways.

“fine. tomorrow first thing.”

[phoenixblaze1412]

Heyy may I request dottore with a very sleepy (Fem/gn)Reader who always struggles with nightmares and staying awake

(idk what to do against my sleepiness :<)

Dottore, being a man of science, a doctor himself, has seen people go through various things. Whether it be painful to the person physically, mentally, or emotionally- he has seen it all. Even done it to others.

But when it comes to you, he wouldn't dare put you through that pain nor stress. So when he noticed something weird about your behavior. He has to know why.

Observation is always the first step a researcher must do in order to gather data. With his clipboard in hand, he watched you move around his office.

Subject: Y/N

Observations:

- Subject shows signs of lack of sleep due to the bags under their eyes.

- Subject has a hard time doing their assigned tasks; lack of focus, sluggish movements, constant yawning.

- When the Theta segment recommended them to sleep, subject reacted anxiously before declining their suggestion and stating they don't need it. Subject seems to be scared. Possibility that the subject is afraid of sleeping or something related to sleep?

Comments:

- Subject does not want to sleep due to something that is giving them constant fear. Best to question them on why they do not wish to sleep for almost a week now. Another solution is to give them a sedative that could help them recover the rest they needed.

After reviewing his notes for a second time and making sure he got everything, Dottore went off to find you.

"Darling?"

You hummed in reply, your tired eyes looking up at your partner. Dottore could only sigh when he saw the bags under your eyes becoming more worse by the day.

"Is there a reason on why you do not wish to slumber? I have noticed how you're struggling to even move around or speak due to your lack of rest. I suggest you tell me why, I'm beginning to worry that you might hurt yourself due to your fatigued mind."

You didn't give any replies, embarrassed about your reason. Already knowing that avoiding sleep would be pointless and the fatigue would catch up to you sooner. Your state couldn't even go unnoticed by the doctor himself.

So... how would you tell Dottore that you can't sleep due to your nightmares? Childish as it may, the constant horrific dreams you've been getting each day was the reason why you didn't bother to go back to sleep. Not even a wink or shuteye.

Without further delay, you decided to tell Dottore. The harbinger himself listening to every word, processing, even coming up with various solutions to at least comfort you. It's not really in his nature to do the latter but for you, he would do anything.

"Nightmares? And what, pray tell, are you having nightmares about? Is it due to the screams of the test subjects in their cells? The 'grotesque' view that others would find whenever I am in the middle of an experiment?"

Though the words he used may sound cold and blunt, the hand rubbing your head gave enough warmth and comfort. Dottore prefers to say things whatever it is.

What's the point of sugar-coating the truth when it's already in front of you, afterall? That is what Dottore would think.

Nevertheless, his actions does speak more than his words. He led you to sit on the couch he has in his office, letting you lean onto him as he gently pulled you by the waist to be closer to him while he listened to you vent out your nightmarish dreams.

"Is that so? I have a few suggestions that can be of help to you, darling. You see, I have concocted a little sedative, one that can easily make you fall asleep for.. let's say maybe twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Just enough to recover the rest you needed. I also have melatonin that could help you fall asleep. Hm.. maybe we should use them as a last resort."

Dottore had to be reminded that you cannot sleep due to your nightmares. Which caused him to stop in his rambles before crossing out the ideas he suggested.

He may have gotten a bit carried away.

You couldn't be upset at him, he is trying his best. It's the littlest things that matters, after all. Besides, he's never been in a serious relationship with anyone until you came into his life and you're probably the only one insane enough to even date the second harbinger.

"How about.. you sleep with me? You could use the rest too and I need someone to cuddle with so I don't get any nightmares."

"Cuddle? Darling, I am a doctor, a scientist. I may know the benefits of physical contact, hugging to be exact, to a person but I am not one to do such a thing--"

Dottore could even finish his sentence when you were already clinging onto him. Like a newborn to their parent, your arms were wrapped around the doctor's neck as you cuddled up to him. Said doctor could only lay stiffly on the couch, he really doesn't know what to do, you even pinned him down to the furniture and got into a position where you both would be comfortable. His fingers were twitching to flip the positions, with you laying on the couch instead so he could return to his work.

But you felt so warm and soft and so vulnerable even--

No. Bad. Keep yourself in check, Dottore.

"If you don't want to cuddle then it's alright. I can go back to my room."

Before you could even move away, Dottore kept you in place. His arms circling around your waist to keep you from getting out of his hold as he leaned his chin on top of your head. Luckily he wasn't wearing his mask or else it could have poked your eye.

"If this will be of help to let you sleep easier without anymore nightmares then go on ahead. You do know that the brain could eat itself if it lacks sleep for a long time."

You could only laugh in amusement at the information. Dottore would always tell science facts here and there whenever he is doing something very affectionately. It's an easy way to hide how flustered he is.

Your eyes started to feel heavy as you nuzzled more into Dottore's warmth. You felt something soft pressed against your forehead along with a small hum from the man holding you, causing you to smile as you slowly entered a deep slumber. Dottore's words being the last thing that you hear before entering your dreamland, this time, no more nightmares.

"Go to sleep now, darling. I'll be here till you wake up. I won't leave you alone with your nightmares this time."

[xenon-demon]

only one (1) coherent thought in my skull right now and it’s domestic steddie with Steve washing Eddie’s hair after he’s discharged from hospital post-Vecna.

I’m imagining Eddie’s being discharged to Steve’s house, because Steve is but a simple man with a saviour complex (and also a crush on Eddie) so he’s letting Wayne and Eddie stay with him. Partly so they have somewhere to be while the government sorts out some new housing for them, but mostly because Eddie needs support for these first few weeks out of hospital and Wayne is away at work a lot. Having Steve around as well means Eddie won’t end up in a situation where he needs a hand but is stuck home alone for hours.

Eddie’s recovered enough for discharge but still requires a lot of physical therapy, and one of the things he still can’t do is raise his arms above his head. He can’t wash his hair pretty much at all, and while the nurses washed it for him in hospital, they didn’t do it frequently enough for Eddie’s standards. His hair has been driving him insane, as the limp, greasy feeling against his face, neck and scalp makes him want to claw his skin off. When he’s told how long it’s expected to take before his arms have full range of motion again, he makes a joke-that’s-not-really-a-joke about going back to his buzzcut days just to avoid dealing with the feeling.

Steve is horrified at the suggestion, and immediately offers to wash Eddie’s hair for him. He also divulges that part of the reason he styled his hair the way he did in high school was because he played a lot of sports, and couldn’t stand the feeling of sweaty hair against his neck and face. Sure, he genuinely did want his hair to look good, but styling it up so it was out of his face was an added bonus.

Eddie’s hair is driving him so crazy that he says yes, especially once he realises Steve might actually get where he’s coming from.

Cue an emotionally tense shower, where both Steve and Eddie are stripped down to their boxers because they don’t want to this fully clothed but they sure as fuck don’t want to do it naked, either. (Spoiler alert, they’d both actually love to have a naked shower together, they’re just both too nervous to bring that up at this stage!)

But then Eddie slips while in the shower, still unsteady on his feet and learning to adjust to his bad leg, so Steve makes an executive decision to switch over to the bath. After a bit of manoeuvring they find a comfortable position to do this; Eddie sitting in front of Steve in the bath, Steve’s legs stretched out either side of him. Between the physical intimacy of having your hair washed by someone else, and the way they don’t have to look at each other’s faces as they do this, they end up talking. They get a lot more personal than they were able to in hospital or during Spring Break, and it’s such a nice experience that they’ll each happily put up with the sensory hell of waterlogged boxers.

Eventually - after Eddie and Wayne have moved into their new place, but Eddie and Steve are over at each other’s houses often enough that they might as well still be living together - Eddie can move his arms enough to wash his hair on his own. He’s gotten more used to his bad leg and can stand long enough to even shower if he wants to. They go about three weeks with Eddie washing his own hair, both of them desperately missing this little routine they’d built but not wanting to admit it. One day, however, Eddie feels so lonely and so tired from physical therapy that day that he asks Steve to wash his hair for him. Steve accepts in a heartbeat, almost before Eddie’s even had time to say the words.

It feels different that time. The energy between them is charged, everything feeling more intimate somehow. It’s so palpable a difference that after Steve runs the conditioner through Eddie’s hair to let it sit for a few minutes, Eddie turns around in the bath to face Steve. He takes a breath, trying to steel his nerves, and asks: can I kiss you?

Steve doesn’t answer him; he thinks the way he leans in and slots his lips in between Eddie’s is answer enough.

[its-isover]

Li Zhao Yu had zero doubt in his mind that he was, indeed, one of the best. After all, not just anybody could hit radiant in Valorant. He leaned back in his chair lazily, stretching with a yawn. His gaze flickered to his webcam and then back to his screen. His career was a crisp green carpet, with him fragging well enough to be the top or at least second highest fragger each match.

“I think that’s about enough for today, chat,” he muttered into his mic as he rubbed his eyes. It had been…five hours? He swore it did not feel like he had been playing for that long. Unfortunately, right as he was about to log off, he heard a little ping from his phone. Picking it up, his expression turned to one of mild annoyance. With a little “tsk”, he put his headphones back on.

“Change of plans, chat, seems like a few friends want to grind comp for a bit. We’re in for some…five-stack shenanigans.”

With a few final stretches for his shoulders and neck, he joined his friend’s party, the four already present members waiting for him. His eyes narrowed at their lack of rank.

“Weh, what gives?”

“I needed help carrying some new friends,” his friend responded dryly. Li only sighed, “Whatever, man, just don’t make me derank.”

As it would turn out, lower elo was absolutely god awful atrocious to him. Li had half a mind to cut the stream, almost certain he would get into trouble of some kind for the level of toxicity he was displaying. Granted, he only said about a third of what he really thought in team chat, but given the words circulating through his head, he had little doubt what he was saying was awful enough.

“Bai chi ya…zhen me wu yong…” Frankly, he was way too tilted to be playing. Did that stop him though? Of course not. Because Li Zhao Yu was not a quitter. The night was off to a horrible end, and three matches in, Li was throwing in the towel. “I’m done with this,” he had declared, leaving the party and slumping back in his chair. He ran his hand through his hair, eyes shut and brows furrowed, pulling his hair back and ruffling it, leaning forward, sighing, and ruffling his hair again. “I’m done,” he repeated. Done with what, exactly, he did not bother to elaborate. He got up to stretch a bit, finally feeling the dull ache in his neck. The pain absolutely was not worth it. Playing with those idiots? Deranking this much? Disgusting. He had never seen this much red in his career since he…he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d done this badly. Except it wasn’t even his fault. How could it be, when he was the match MVP in almost all of them? He should stop. He should get some rest, some time away from the blasted game. But no.

Against his better judgement, he hopped back into solo queue. There were various reactions to his decision in chat, ranging from “You sure about this?” to “I really think you ought to rest” to “Hell yeah! We don’t end on a loss!” Not that any of that mattered to him. Li felt like shit, and since it was caused by numerous losses, his only logical solution was to garner just as many, if not more, victories to compensate himself emotionally.

What a stupid decision. These random guys he ended up with on his teams weren’t much better. Left to his own devices, he very well might have played through the night to recover all his lost rr. It took his roommate, Ryo, pulling the plug on his PC for him to go to bed. With that abrupt end to his stream, Li hauled himself under the covers, passing out as his frustrations turned to exhaustion and overcame him.

Maybe Ryo was right, all he needed was a little rest. Li thought, until he had breakfast and Ryo said he was going out with Kirra. “You’re not gonna duo with me?” had been Li’s first reaction, breadcrumbs dropping as he dropped his bao onto the table. Ryo only shook his head. “Maybe tonight,” Ryo offered. “Maybe you should come along, the fresh air might make you less insufferable.”

His suggestion was met with a sharp glare, lavender eyes piercing through dark onyx ones. Li looked nothing short of scandalised at the notion of his grind being interrupted. Was he expected to agree? Hell no. There was nothing Ryo could say to convince him to go out just to be a third wheel on his roommate’s date. Li was sure Ryo knew him well enough to know that, so he wasn’t really sure why he had bothered asking. However, that clarified itself when Kirra showed up, an unfamiliar face in tow as she declared they would all be going on a double date.

It was awkward, to say the least. Ryo and Kirra walked on ahead, hand in hand, leaving you behind with Li. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad if Li wasn’t already bothered, but there was no way of knowing that as you walked beside him, trying to gauge what would be an appropriate distance to put between the two of you. It didn’t help that Ryo and Kirra took the dog, which left you and Li with even less of a buffer.

How does one start a conversation with a stranger your friend set you up with when they look completely disinterested? One option is always to just…not. For better or worse, you weren’t a quitter (though not to Li’s extent). Just your luck that you managed to hit the topic of Valorant. By the way he perked up subtly, you had to assume it was of interest to him. Progress was progress, and you were quite satisfied with how you’d managed to chip the ice. That is, until the dreaded question arose.

“What’s your rank?” Li asked, seemingly nonchalantly, but the sideward glances he shot you told you otherwise. Subtle as it was, his gaze wasn’t one so easily ignored, and you happened to notice the pale lilac of his irises rather acutely. You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck in hopes he’d catch onto your awkwardness and change the topic. At this point, you weren’t sure if he was socially inept or just insensitive, because rather than act according to your hopes, he’d turned his head to look at you properly, tilting his head slightly as though prompting you to get on with your answer.

“I don’t have a rank, I don’t play comp,” you replied sheepishly. You swore you saw a flicker of disappointment cross his face, but by the time you’d blinked, his features had returned to their usual bored expression. “We can hit an internet cafe after lunch, I’ll duo with you and we’ll find your rank.”

His offer was more of a statement - no, an instruction. You felt a smidge of betrayal, not quite sure you like Kirra’s boyfriend’s roommate very much in spite of her insistence that he’d be a good match for you. Then again, you didn’t think it was her fault since you don’t exactly love Ryo very much either when she thinks he’s brilliant. Perhaps this was just another clash of opinions, since you’re sure she meant well.

Li seemed to have little interest in much else, to your mild dismay. While he would respond to any conversation topic you decided to jump into, he never quite seemed nearly as interested as he did when you brought up Valorant. Until music, that is. At which he promptly asked to see your playlist, his brows furrowing as he found little common ground. With a murmured promise to send you a few of his playlists and then some he'd try curate more towards your taste, he returned your phone.

If only your awkward date ended with a walk in the park. Lunch was an equally tense affair, with Li mostly feigning disgust at the couple with you, and you trying your best to avoid his gaze. As lovely as his eyes were, there was something cold and piercing about them that made you feel like he'd see right through you, and you weren't yet sure if you enjoyed it very much. Worse still was the way his hand found its way to your waist immediately after dropping enough money to cover both your meals in Ryo’s hands as he steered you away after lunch, bidding Ryo and Kirra farewell as he led you to an internet cafe. To his credit, he did keep his word…

“Um, look, Zhao Yu, I'm really not good at the game, I just play casually,” you began, trying to excuse yourself.

“I'll play casually with you then,” he insisted with a shrug, not at all bothered by the change in plans. Without waiting for any further protests on your part, he ushered you into the cafe. He strode up to the front desk with a comfortable familiarity, and you wouldn't be surprised if he'd told you he was a regular there. As you pondered his screentime, he had already paid for the time, once again returning to your side to usher you in. It was, in part, a sweet gesture, but a part of you felt the firmness of his hand was also partly to keep you from running off. Left with little other choice, you obliged and sat at the computer beside him.

You grinned sheepishly as your final game ended in borderline disaster.

“You weren't joking when you said you're bad,” Li quipped. For a moment, you half expected him to curse at you the way you'd heard him swear at the enemies and some teammates, but the barrage of insults never came. Instead, you felt a cold hand reach up to brush the hair from your face, his fingers gently twirling a lock of it before dropping his hand. His expression had softened, seemingly placated by the contact. “It's fine, it's not competitive…and you're cute.”

His last few words were mumbled, too mashed together for you to catch, but if the tips of his ears turning red was anything to go by, you'd guess he'd complimented you.

“Did you say something?” you pressed, hoping he'd repeat himself, but he only shook his head. “Mei shi ba, zhi shuo ni ke ai.”

Once again his words were quick, melding together like a fluid melody in his native tongue. It felt like you were hearing him properly now that he wasn't whisper-shouting at a screen, and it was…charming. You smiled to yourself. Cuteness privileges, huh? You could probably make use of that.

“Right, so how much do I owe you? For both the meal and this?”

Your questions were halted by a shake of his head and cold purple eyes enrapturing your own. “Another date, probably, I don't take cash.”

“Ah, then I guess I'll see you some other time?” So maybe he was a little pushy.

“We can plan while I walk you home. Zou ba.” Scratch that, he was a lot pushy. But it was part of his charm, you'd suppose, from the way he'd kept you on the inner side of the sidewalk to the protective hand on your waist as he insisted on escorting you to your door, Li Zhao Yu was a very straightforward individual, especially when it came to his interests.

“Zai jian le…unless you've anything else to say before I go?” The slight bit of hope in his voice was apparent.

“Thanks.”

“I don't need thanks from you, I want to do things for you.”

It was hard not to giggle at his bluntness. “I know, you make that quite clear,” you point out, kissing his cheek as a goodbye.

Perhaps for the first time on your date, Li was speechless. You'd tease him for it if you weren't into him too. Well, there's always more opportunities on future dates.

[seramilla]

Someone asked for angst so here it is.

After learning who Emily is Carmilla is torn on the one hand she found she had another daughter and already loves her and wants to keep her but she knows she can't. 1 Emily wasn't born in hell and doesn't have the instincts she needs to stay safe as can be seen by how easy Clara and Odette caught her thank God it was them and not someone worse. 2 Sera needs here Carmilla knew Sera loved and feared for Emily and learned that Emily had only recently learned that Sera was her mother because Sera had told her growing up they were sisters to keep her safe and hadn't even let Emily call Sera mom. She would have thought that Emily going to hell would have caused Sera a lot of stress after getting more of the story she knew Sera had to be frantic. As much as she wants to keep her other daughter she loves Sera too much to take Emily from her. She already has two daughters that should be enough. Still she convinces herself letting Emily stay and night or two wouldn't hurt after all she can keep Emily here and safe and let her recover after her adventures in hell it would probably be the only time she'll see her third daughter so she should make it count. She plans to let Emily rest and recover that night and the next day tell Lucifer to let Sera know she found Emily and the girl is alright and maybe get one last day before she says goodbye for the first and likely last time.

For roughly 48 hours, Carmilla Carmine almost remembers what it's like to have Sera in her life again. Emily's resemblance to her other parent is uncanny. The way she laughs. The way she immediately warms up to her sisters, Clara and Odette. The way she asks so many questions, wanting to know everything about life in Hell, despite having witnessed so many of the horrors of this place just trying to find her way here.

Carmilla knows she should tell Lucifer of Emily's presence. And she does immediately...there is no doubt in her mind that Sera will probably be frantically searching for the girl, if she isn't already, and Carmilla isn't that cruel. She tells Lucifer that Emily is safe in her care, but goes against her better nature to make a very selfish request. One that she knows she shouldn't make. But as Carmilla is rarely selfish, she can't help but wish for it just this once.

"Tell Sera Emily is safe," Carmilla pleads with Lucifer over the phone. "But please...wait a few days before you tell her where she is. Tell her she's with you...or that she's resting. Something that will assuage her fears, but not have her rushing down here just yet."

"Why?" Lucifer asks, completely flummoxed. "Carmilla, she's at her wit's end with worry. I can't just not tell her! That's her daughter."

"She's my daughter, too! Please!" Carmilla begs. Very emotionally, which signals to Lucifer that she is serious. Carmilla rarely shows this side of herself to anyone, let alone Lucifer.

"Please, Lucifer, I just...I just need time with her. I don't know if I'll ever get this chance again. You know neither of them can stay down here long. Hell will warp and distort them. Like it did to our bodies. And I don't want to risk them coming down here more than once."

Lucifer goes silent on the other end of the line. He knows better than anyone the toll that Hell pays on a fallen angel's body over an extended period of time. A day or two isn't anything to fuss over. But after a week, their angelic essence will be sucked dry. After two, their bodies will start to transform, leaving them unrecognizable as Heaven's angels.

After a month, they'll never be able to go back. Those types of changes are permanent. Carmilla judges that a few days should be safe, at the absolute maximum. That's all the time she's willing to allow herself to spend with Emily. Any longer than that would risk her and Sera's immortal souls being trapped down here forever like her.

"If that's what you want..." Lucifer says, the hesitation in his voice indicating he does not like this idea one bit. "I understand where you're coming from. I do. And I will allow it. But 2 days is all you get, Carmilla. You'd better make it count."

Carmilla thanks Lucifer, and hangs up the phone. She will make it count. She will shove so much love and affection into the next 48 hours, it will be impossible for Emily to ignore how much she means to her. Carmilla vows to cherish the next 2 days always, and at the same time, steel herself for the inevitable end to their time together.

She understands that before all is said and done, she and Sera will undoubtedly come face-to-face one last time, and she needs to be ready for that moment. Needs to be strong for Emily, but also for herself. Carmilla Carmine has become an expert at not showing weakness. This situation, however...this will truly test her. It might even be what finally breaks her. But she will risk it. For a few moments of stolen happiness, and for them to ultimately be safe.

[prototypesteve]

Sent.

Just told the last remaining “I’ve known this guy forever” friend that I’m aromantic and asexual. This friend watched me recover from the first fake relationship (late 90s), and watched me go through the second fake relationship¹ (2005-2008). He’s only known me as someone who assumed they’re allosexual and alloromantic, but who was just really, really bad at it.

The send button used to take me about an hour to tap. And I’d often hesitate and delete the message, and wait a few more days. But with each person, it gets a little easier. It used to be terrifying, but now it’s just really scary.

Anyway, all that to say, it gets easier, but I don’t know if it ever gets easy. Don’t feel bad if there are people you just can’t (or won’t) ever tell. This isn’t something you owe them. This is something they earn.

Whether it’s your sexuality, or an invisible disability, or the special way your family formed, or even just your secret carrot cake recipe, you don’t owe anyone anything you feel they haven’t earned the privilege of knowing.

Invitation Only.

Some friends of mine like to replace the idea of coming out with a different way of seeing it: “Inviting in.”

Sometimes, with certain people and to certain audiences, using the term “coming out” can feel like you’ve kept a secret and you’re admitting to it. It has a lot of cultural baggage. It can feel like confessing to something bad. And fuck that.

“Inviting in” changes the dynamic. Now it’s about exclusivity and qualification. It’s members-only clique or an invitation-only club, and there are standards to be met. You must be this emotionally mature to ride.

For something like asexuality and aromanticism I even use the term “clarifying”. I have friends who’ve only even known me as single, or other friends (like the one I just came out to / invited in) who’ve seen me damaged by a failed relationship, then in a really unsuccessful and loveless one for a few years, then apparently happily single for 15 years. So they know something’s different. Maybe gay? Maybe I’m just traumatized? Maybe I think people of our faith aren’t allowed to remarry? They see the stuff. They just don’t know what’s causing the stuff. So I’m mostly just clarifying.

But whatever you do—come out, invite in, clarify—do it when it’s safe, when you’re ready, and only to people who’ve demonstrated they deserve to know you that well. There’s no timetable, no cutoff age, no obligation to your community.

Footnotes:

¹ “fake relationship” is a slightly harsh way to put what happened. This was when I didn’t know what aroace was, so even though I was aroace I had been raised to assume that as someone who felt male, I was were either straight, gay, or bi, and that everyone needed someone. (Extreme allonormativity, amatonormativity and compulsory sexuality.) The most I ever felt was what we would call Platonic Love, but at the time I assumed what I felt was just my broken version of romance. I wanted to be like everyone else (even my gay friends felt love, FFS, what was my excuse?). So I tried. I really, really tried. And I couldn’t. I could be enjoyable, but I couldn’t enjoy, and that hurt the people I was with. It made them feel undesirable even though really it was me who couldn’t desire anyone. And I hate how that happened. I don’t hate why it happened, but I hate that it had to happen because words like aromantic and asexual were hidden away back then. And my way of dealing with how that hurt is to incorrectly call them fake relationships, for now. I hope there’s a better term out there.

[fairly-linked]

Presence (Twilight x GN!Reader) 🖤✨

A/N: Two fics in the same 24 hours??? Am I okay??? Yes, I'm on vacation. I have energy to write lmao. Eat it up while you can folks. Enjoy! 💖💖💖💖💖

TW: Mentions of depression, self-isolation and general stress on the reader.

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Twilight noticed you'd been a little... off lately. A lot of things had happened over the last few days, and everyone was a bit on edge; the whole team being ambushed around almost every turn, you having trouble keeping up due to some kind of medical issue he wasn't understanding (which terrified him, of course, though he'd struggle to hide it for fear of overwhelming you), and not to mention Wars' and Legend's near constant bickering over trivial matters due to all the stress... But your breaking point seemed to come when the postman delivered a letter to you.

He'd watched as you read it, everyone else watching on as well as it seemed like the emotion drained from your very being. It worried him beyond words. His heart shattered at the sight of you so visibly... emotionally numb. And he'd asked if you were alright, but he knew he could only do so much-- he'd never want to push you.

So instead, he did what he thought was best: he managed to convince the Old Man to let the chain stay at an inn for a few days to give you time to recover from... whatever was going on with you. Twilight soon learned that even though Time didn't show it, he also seemed troubled by your sudden change in demeanor.

He was very thankful now more than ever that the Old Man was a good one at heart. If he hadn't been, the Rancher knew he wouldn't have let you rest.

So here they sit, him and the Old Man, together with the rest of the chain in the inn's dining hall for dinner. The only empty chair was yours, he noted with growing anxiety. You hadn't shown your face all day today...

"...Are they still asleep?" Time questioned him softly. "...This isn't good. They shouldn't be alone when they're feeling like this... It only serves to make things worse in the long run," he sighs.

Twilight nodded. He knew you had a habit of isolating when you weren't feeling your usual self, but... skipping all three meals today was unacceptable. He stood from the table suddenly, without finishing his own food; he'd been so worried about you he couldn't eat much of it anyway.

"I'm... I'm gonna go check on 'em," he states firmly, unable to mask the concern in his voice.

To his surprise, the Old Man didn't try to stop him; Time simply nodded, speaking softly.

"...Why don't you fix them a plate and bring it up? I know they may not want to eat, but even something is better than nothing. They need their strength..."

The Rancher nodded again, fixing you a a decent portion and bringing it up to your room.

When he reached your room, the one that the Old Man was kind enough to let you share with Sky (someone he knew wouldn't bother you)... He paused, his ears twitching slightly at the sound of soft sobs coming from the other side. His heart broke, and a lump formed in his throat; he was so worried about you. He hated to see you in such a state... Nevertheless, he knocked softly.

"(Y/n)? ...Can I come in...?"

The crying hushed immediately, and your shaky voice reached his ears. "W-What do you want...?"

He paused, trying to think of the best way to respond.

"...(Y/n), we're worried about you, darlin'. Can I come in please?"

...Silence. He sighed; he knew he shouldn't barge in on you, but--

"...Fine..."

He let out a sigh of relief at your answer. He opened the door softly, carrying the plate of still-warm food; the room was dark. No lights, the curtains were drawn... Oh, you poor thing, he thinks to himself.

"...I'm turnin' on the light, sweet thing," he says, flicking on the light and watching as your figure huddles deeper under the blanket. He sighs, setting the food down on the nightstand and taking a seat beside you on the bed.

"...Can I ask what's been goin' on with you lately? You've been so sad, and it worries me to see you like this, hun. It worries all of us..." he says softly, placing his hand on your hair and rubbing the top of your head softly with his thumb.

He could've sworn your voice broke a little as you speak again in a softer tone than ever. "...I don't wanna talk about it..."

He sighs, but nods. "...That's okay, darlin'. I won't push you to talk if you don't want to..." he mumbles, still stroking your hair.

"...Can I at least stay here for a bit? I haven't seen your pretty face all day, sweetums."

He hears you sniffle, but he can see you nod. It's hard to make out at first, with your figure huddled deeply under the comforter, but he smiles when he realizes you'd said yes.

He shifts, now sitting cross-legged on the bed beside you, his hand remaining on your head. He sighs, thinking about what he could do to make you feel better.

...He'd be lying if he said he didn't wish you were roomed with him for the night. He wants to make sure you're okay, but he also knows that Sky is perfectly capable of being there for you should you want it.

...And he says 'want', because goddesses know you definitely need it.

"...You feel like eatin'?" he asks softly, voice remaining low as he leans a little closer. He sighs again when he hears you mumble a weak "Not really..."

"...Yeah, I figured..."

He sighs for what now has to be the eighteenth time. He wants you to eat; he knows you haven't all day, and it's past 5 PM now...

"...I know you don't want to, doll, but... could you at least take a little bite? For me? Pretty please?" he asks as sweetly as he can muster.

He hears you sigh, and for a split second he's worried he's pushed you too far; but to his pleasant surprise, you sit up, reaching for the plate.

Heh. Can't say no to me, can you lovebug?

He smiles; the way your hair's all messy and the tired look on your face makes you cute, but in a heart-breaking sort of way. He watches intently as you slowly pick up the fork, poking at the food; and his smile grows more as you finally take a bite.

He places his hand back on the top of your head. "Good pup," he chuckles softly, laughing a little more as you huff at him.

You must've finally realized you were hungry, because he sits in silence for several minutes as you manage to finish off a little more than half the plate.

"There you go," he says softly with a tender smile. "Feelin' a little better?"

You nod, setting the plate back on the nightstand and pulling the blanket back up to your shoulders.

"...You're free to go back to sleep if you want, darlin'. I just wanted to check up on you," he says, subconsciously leaning a little closer to your face as his hand drops to your shoulder. "...Do you want me to stay here, or should I leave?"

"You can stay..." you say softly. He's overjoyed at your response, grinning like a lovestruck dumbass (because he totally is. Not that he's admitting it or anything. Not at all.)

"...I can do that. But you're cuddlin' with me whether you like it or not, lovebug."

He laughs as you huff again, rolling your eyes this time. "Fine..."

His grin only grows, lying down and pulling you down with him. Gently, he pulls your head onto his chest, resting his hand on the top of your head as he noses your hair.

"See? I'm not so bad," he chuckles softly.

"I guess not..." you sigh, and he runs his finger through your hair.

"...Don't worry, sweet thing. Sometimes you just need someone else to take care of you when you can't do it yourself....

"...And I'll be that person if you'll just let me. Don't worry your pretty little head about a thing, darlin'. I'm here..." he says tenderly, stroking your hair.

He's so warm and his presence is so comforting, it's not long before you're on the verge of sleep again. A soft chuckle rumbles in his chest.

The last thing you note in your half-asleep state, is that you could've sworn you felt his lips on your forehead.

"Sleep, little lovebug. I'll be here when you wake up."

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Tagging friends so they see and maybe are proud of me lmao

@trippygalaxy @the-cucco-nuggie (you might like this one. I know how much you like hylian jacob black from twilight)

[ruckis-vandalizes]

Oh how easy it must be To build on something that already has foundation And receive so much love for it. How easy it is to copy you. It felt hollow and distant.

How tall your towers are They overshadow us They overlook us We who have no foundation; only passion And build from the ground up

"Be happy with what you have." We try but Is it so selfish to want to feed? To nourish so that we may continue to create?

We work just as hard If not sometimes harder and receive only a fraction of praise If we are lucky.

So toss a coin to us when you see us So that we may have the energy To brandish our tools of passion In hopes we don't become obsolete.

I've been struggling lately with feelings of being overlooked as an artist, among other things. Actually I've been struggling with it for a while. I've kept quiet about it for fear of being lambasted and accused of being "selfish". My silence has caused a boiling point to finally be breached and has only served to hurt me further. Even if it's just screaming into the void in the hopes that it will resonate with someone, I need to let it out.

About 4 years ago I had some unpleasant experiences that left my stance bitter on most mainstream media. More particularly the "fandom" aspect of it. Needing to distance myself I started a passion project. A completely original nonfandom hubworld by the name of "Order of the Stars". It helped me immensely. It helped me recover emotionally. It remains to be one of the few outlets I have to properly express myself and indulge in escapism.

But over the course of the years I began to recognize another struggle. The very glaring disconnect between fanart and completely original stuff in terms of how much attention each gets. I will not lie, I fully live by the code of make art for yourself no matter what. But it becomes hard when you notice that difference. That disconnect.

Humans are but simple creatures that need one thing: engagement. So why am I complaining? I've made fanart before, it's gotten a lot of attention. So what's the issue.

That's just it. It's getting attention.

Considerably more so than my original stuff. You may say "then just don't post it." Trust me, there have been plenty of times where I thought about making fanart for something and just didn't in favor of my OotS stuff. Those that I did I make because I enjoyed something and want to share it as well. But in my eyes one IP address shouldn't make a difference and it's sad that it does. At the same time, I already spent a lot of time making that fanart. It would be a shame not to post my work.

But for some reason seeing my fanart get more love than my original works still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth given my past experiences.

I'm so overwhelmingly passionate about my own story and characters and I wish that it would receive the same praise that any fanart of mine would get.

But I feel so incredibly selfish for asking that. All of this. I've always had trouble putting myself first, my wants and my needs. I wish I didn't feel bad asking for the bare minimum. After all I do have friends and mutual who support and like what I do. I feel sick asking for more, but I feel sick being overshadowed by many who I've seen do much less.

This cloud of doubt has me questioning what I even want to do with OotS anymore. At first I wanted to make it a story, but after a few test runs and chapters I realized I should just leave the writing to my sister, who's miles better at it. Then I realized that it would be perfect as a comic book. All the art I make is super dynamic and expressive. But I got discouraged. I didn't want to make something that would require so many more hours if it would just get the same amount of attention as all my other stuff that took much less time. It's the same reason I have a hard time making animations anymore too. And all the equipment I want to get to make it at least a little more bearable and make the process faster is too expensive for someone in poverty living in an era of a financial and housing crisis.

I once had hoped to maybe turn art into a form of financial support. Maybe even to turn this passion project as a means of helping pay the bills. I set up commissions one point in time, but took them down after virtually no requests came in. It made me question my art's value. Did I set the bar too high? I felt like what I was asking for was reasonable. Other stuff that looked about the same quality as mine were asking for the same amount, if not a little more. I didn't want to low ball myself.

So I just didn't set commissions up again. I didn't even think about it until much later. But just when I considered it as an option again the NFT craze hit. I effectively went back into hiding, even moreso to protect my art. Once that fad had effectively died down I thought maybe, just maybe, I'll try again. And then the AI train hit. It hasn't slowed down. Commissioners buying taking WIP sketches and running them through a rendering program, artists having to make their own legal disclaimers to prevent alteration of their work, big companies pushing this as the new age of art... It was a risk I didn't want to take. And I still don't know where to value my art.

I don't want to turn one of my only coping mechanism into a source of stress with expectation. I thought of maybe opening a Kofi but started doubting my worth as an artist again not thinking I had anything of value to offer for Kofi. I overthink things and so far every idea I've had just seems dumb or so far out of reach that it becomes an impossibility...

..So that's where I'm at right now, unfortunately. The world is in flames. I'm held together by a thread. It feels hopeless and I'm so exhausted. I'm so burnt out that I'm in a position of powerlessness no matter what I do. I'm doing my best to hold on. I know it's a matter of biding my time but it's hard too when it feels like a thousand snakes and black bile are writhing millimeters below the surface of my skin. I feel like I'm laying down unable to get up and the slightest touch will make me explode into something corrosive.

I'm sorry to have dumped this here but I'm too poor for a therapist and directly reaching out to someone to talk about it makes me feel guilty for burdening them with problems completely unrelated to them. I don't need consolation, I just need things in my life to change for the better. I don't feel like I can lift myself anymore. Everything feels so far out of reach. I've been shouldering everything for so long and telling no one I was tired. Well.

I'm tired.

[thejesterstears]

Gonna be self-indulgent with a little whump content here and ramble off some sickness-related Pomni headcanons I've been rotating in my brain since about when I first watched the pilot (once you get to know me it will become apparent how much I love whump).

Disclaimer that these are just my headcanons and not anything I am trying to push as canon! These headcanons also operate under the idea that sickness does exist within the circus in the form of computer viruses/corrupted code that manifests as human-like illnesses in the circus members, and also bearing in mind that they do still experience pain.

Sick Pomni Headcanons:

In her old life, she would rarely ever call in sick, even if it meant dragging herself through the work day looking like death warmed over and powering through it with hot tea and round-the-clock medication--less out of dedication to her work so much as a nagging feeling that she would be letting people down if she didn't come in to do her job as well as fear of failing herself. She has worked herself to the point of fainting more than once due to her own stubbornness. This is the same attitude she's carried with her into the Digital Circus, even though it isn't a "job," just because she doesn't want anyone to feel the need to pick up her slack or to worry about her (and, yes, has reached a point of fainting here too).

She is what can only be described as a horrible sick person to take care of, in that she struggles to accept help because she feels she should be able to take care of herself and feels uncomfortable making anyone else concerned about her or paying excess attention to her--even when she's reluctantly accepting help, she hesitates to ask for more than the bare minimum of care, regardless of anything else she may want or need. She only fully relents when she's feeling so miserable that she literally can't work up any energy to fend for herself. For the most part, she'll just hole up in her room and sleep for hours at a time until she recovers.

Of everyone in the circus, Ragatha is the one who would take care of Pomni the most whenever she's under the weather, out of her own genuine concern and care--something that surprises Pomni at first, so used to fending for herself in her old life that it actually overwhelms her a little to have Ragatha check in on her frequently and offer to bring her extra blankets or warm drinks or cold compresses. She resists offers of help at first, feeling guilty for making anyone worry about her when she doesn't feel she deserves it, but eventually reaches a point where she feels more comfortable accepting care from the friends she's learned to trust in the circus--and if she's being honest with herself, she might feel a little clingy (emotionally, at least) when she gets accustomed to the company where she isn't so quick to turn it away, or might actually ask for it herself.

Due to her tendency to become nauseous easily, she does not like to eat when she's sick as much as she can help it--not needing to eat for nourishment is one of the few perks to her new digital life when she doesn't feel well (though if, say, Ragatha were to gently encourage her to eat something for the sake of maintaining some normalcy, she wouldn't say no to some soup or warm tea).

She is unfortunately prone to stress fevers and migraines that'll knock her down for a good several hours whenever they happen.

(Semi-connected because it's medical-related but I also personally hc that she suffers from bad vertigo episodes/motion sickness and has endometriosis, both of which regularly make her feel completely miserable)

[those70scomics]

Fictober Day 19: "this is getting ridiculous"

That '70s Show Fanfiction

Hyde was recovering from Thursday-night sex with Jackie. They'd both been too busy with work, too tired, to go longer than a half-hour. But he'd felt deeply the absence of that connection between them. Their mutual need finally overrode the stress from their daily lives. October nineteenth, 1989 was a date he wouldn't soon forget.

Now they were cozy together on their bed, enjoying each other's company a different way. Her head laid on his chest; his arm was draped around her waist, and his hand played with her fingers. This night would've epitomized the concept of perfection, but he didn't believe in perfection -- and the phone ringing validated his lack of belief.

"Ignore it," Jackie mumbled. "Machine -- "

But Hyde withdrew his arm from Jackie and picked up the phone on his nightstand. "'Lo?"

"Oh, Steven, you're awake!" Mrs. Forman said through the earpiece. "Is Jackie with you?'

"Yup."

"Then put me on the speaker-thing."

He grunted as he sat up. Jackie said, "Who is it?" He told her, and she also sat up in the bed.

"Laurie gave Red and me the most wonderful gift today!" Mrs. Forman's said through the phone speaker. Her voice was slightly distorted, but her elation wasn't. "A painting of herself -- pregnant! She's going to have a baby!"

Hyde rubbed his eyes but smiled. "Congrats on havin' your first grandkid in about nine months."

"Oh, it'll be a bit sooner than that."

"What?" Jackie leaned over Hyde's body to shout into the phone. "Laurie hid the pregnancy from you?"

"No, no. Donna -- "

Mrs. Forman stopped in mid-sentence, but both Hyde and Jackie said, "Donna what?"

A static-y breath preceded Mrs. Forman's next words: "Donna's a little jealous Laurie beat her to it. I called her and Eric before you. ... Speaking of you two, when do you think you'll give me a grandchild?"

Hyde and Jackie glanced at each other. He scratched the back of his neck, and she gripped the comforter tightly. Their silence must've gone on too long because Mrs. Forman said, "Jackie isn't getting any younger, and you don't want to be one of those dads people think are their children's grandparents."

"Me and Jackie are plenty young, man. Hell, I haven't even turned twenty-nine yet. My birthday's not 'til the end of next month ... and why am I justifyin' our choices? You'll get plenty of grandkids from Laurie and Eric."

"But, Steven -- "

"Love you," he said. "Talk later." He pressed the speaker button on the phone, hanging up on Mrs. Forman. She was his mom in the truist sense of the term, and he laid his head back on his pillow and groaned. "Well, now I feel like shit."

"This is getting ridiculous." Jackie curled up beside him. "Everyone's baby crazy lately."

"Yeah. Thought they were Halloween crazy, but maybe the Formans are keeping something from us."

"Donna threw up in the middle of our interview on Monday. What if she's pregnant already?" She brushed her fingers through his hair. "Our careers are our children. There's nothing wrong with that."

He turned toward her on the bed, and memories surfaced of their time with Betsy from when she was infant to a few days ago. "Maybe us havin' a human kid wouldn't be a terrible thing."

"I thought we agreed we'd be horrible parents. I'm too absorbed in my work ... okay, in myself. Like mom-and-dad, like daughter. And you're just as worried about being like your parents, the ones who raised you. Or shutting down emotionally."

"We've been too hard on ourselves, grasshopper." He stroked the side of her face and pecked her lips. "We went from skirting responsibility as teenagers to bein' hyper responsible as adults. There's a middle ground -- for everything."

Jackie studied her engagement ring. It glimmered in the ambient light from their bedroom windows. "We're not even getting married until next summer."

"So that gives us more time to talk about this. Does any part of you want a kid?"

She didn't answer at first. Her breaths grew fast, but she eventually whispered, "Yes."

"Got a few parts in me that've also changed their position."

'That didn't come out right," she said with a laugh, "but I know what you mean." She rubbed his bare chest and stomach but didn't go lower, which would've made his last statement literal. "You should get your record label set up and going. I've got to pull off my winter fashion show and the spring/summer collection it'll showcase. Then we need to focus more on their wedding. Then, maybe, we can think about having a child. If it feels more like a sacrifice than a gift to either of us, no."

Hyde grasped her hand over his heart. "Sometimes sacrifices can also be gifts."

[officialchristiancagebbgirlblog]

Can I have prompts 33 “Come here, baby” + 40 “If it ever gets bad again, can you promise you’ll tell me? I don’t want you to go through this alone” with Edge plss? I need some fluff of him helping with anxiety and depression

Tag: @judgementdaysunshine

Fic type: angst/fluff

Warnings: mention of medications and suicidal thoughts

Word count: 858

Link to masterlist

Sorry this has taken so long to come out, had a bit of writers block recently but I think I’m coming back around. Happy reading 🩵

“I’m still a few hours away, baby, but I’ll be as quick as I can to come home!” Was the last thing Adam had said to you before he hit the road again. He had recently suffered a minor injury while working so he had to come back home to recover and rest. Thankfully, he wasn’t too badly hurt, only suffering a sprained ankle. However since it wasn’t severe, at best he may only get a few weeks to recover.

At this point, he had been away from home for about two months and you were desperately missing him. More than you had anticipated. Since you had a part time job you couldn’t travel with him so you were stuck in your shared home. Alone.

Being alone was a massive fear of yours. Less so for the idea that something could happen with another person, and more so the idea that your thoughts might spiral out of control. The medication you would normally get was out of stock and you had been going without for about three weeks. Although you weren’t explicitly dependent on them and you could still function without, you found that taking the pills silenced certain…thoughts. And without them? They were running rampant. You had tried everything to distract yourself: walking, baking, having a shower, having a hot drink, or whatever else your therapist would suggest. But nothing truly helped. Besides the medication.

So you had been laying in bed for the last few days. No showering. No eating. No drinking. All you had the strength to do was get up to use the loo, and wallow in your own negative mind. It felt like you were glued to the bed half the time. You knew you had to get up and clean yourself and the room but you just couldn’t find the strength. All you could think about was those dark thoughts. Those scenarios. Those…solutions.

For the first time in days, you felt tears roll effortlessly out your eyes, down your cheeks. It was exhausting having to deal with depression and anxiety. You so badly wanted to fix the problem but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do that or anything for that matter. From somewhere in the house, you heard rustling. It was like the sound of bags being moved around, zippers being opened, but you couldn’t pinpoint the exact noise. Though when the TV turned on, you figured Adam must’ve finally arrived home. Secretly, you were dreading this moment that was fast approaching. You didn’t want him to see you like this. He was aware that you suffered from mental health issues but not to this extremity. And as the door slowly opened, you held your breath, hoping you’d wake up from a horrible dream again.

But unfortunately, you were wide awake. Adam walked into the room with a big smile, excited to finally see you again! But when he saw the state you were in, it dropped completely. He was completely speechless, heart shattered at the sight. Adam tip-toed over to you to properly look at you.

“Oh, come here baby.” He whispered, effortlessly lifting you from the bed into his arms. You were numb. Physically and emotionally. All you could do now was rest your aching head on his shoulder as he moved you into the bathroom, running you a hot bath. Once ready he undressed you, and helped you in the water.

“Stay here,” he smiled, kissing your forehead, “get nice and comfortable while I clean the bedroom, okay?”

His voice was so soothing, helping to melt away the numbness in your body. Laying back, you closed your eyes as the hot water stung your skin. It was a nice sensation. After days of nothing but a dirty bed, laying in something that hurt was a nice change. 15 minutes later, he came back in to help get you clean, scrubbing away at your body and hair. The feeling was amazing and you found yourself to slowly come around, just slightly though. It wasn’t until you were both laid in a clean bed that you started to feel more comfortable.

“I…I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that this was happening.” You admitted weakly, begging for the dark waves to disappear from your body. “I didn’t want you to worry about-“

“If it ever gets bad again, can you promise me you’ll tell me? I don’t want you to go through this alone.” He interrupted. His voice was desperate, breaking in the middle of his sentence. Looking at him, you could see tears well up in his eyes. You knew that as terrible it was for you, you were used to the effects of your mental health. For him, he didn’t see it as often. Certainly not the ugly side where you don’t clean yourself or eat for as long as you had done in his absence. Since you refused to ever make a promise you couldn’t keep, you told him you’d do your best. That was enough for him and he pecked you on the nose, pulling you in for a closer cuddle, terrified of ever losing you.

[astragreenwoode]

♡Truest Treasure (Adventure Time Petrigrof AU)♡ PT 4/?

(A/N: Part 4. We're getting into heavy angst territory, so be prepared. Sorry to put you guys through heartbreak.

If you are sensitive to themes such as child loss/miscarriage, suicidal ideation, extreme grief, and hospitals, either proceed with caution or feel free to avoid this part altogether. Remember to look out for yourselves.)

♡ My AU where pretty much everything is the same as in canon except Betty is unknowingly pregnant with her and Simon's daughter when she jumps through the portal.

Italics - A/N

Slashed Text - NSFW

Bold Text - Sensitive Topics

A Bump in the Road

♡ When they got to the Emergency Room, the nurses immediately wheeled Betty to an examination room once they saw the trail of blood behind her and Simon. But they needed him to stay behind. They needed help from the hospital security to practically pry them away from each other so they could treat her.

♡ After an hour of waiting when Betty was finally stabilized, Dr. Olson, came out to give Simon the bad news; Betty experienced a late miscarriage. But during their treatment, they had to strap her down to the bed and give her a sedative so she wouldn’t worsen her injuries.

♡ Betty’s situation was time-sensitive. She was in danger of getting an infection, so after updating Simon, Dr. Olson performed a surgical evacuation immediately.

♡ "Princess, we can have another baby. But I can't have another you."

♡ Given Betty’s medical history, a recorded suicide attempt when she was 13 years old, and how she was so distressed that they had to sedate and restrain her, Dr. Olson put her on Suicide Watch, just to be on the safe side.

♡ Up until this point, Simon didn’t know her struggles with her mental health were this severe.

♡ In the meantime, he called Betty’s mother and told her what was happening. She was at the hospital within five minutes.

♡ Alice Grof had trouble warming up to Simon from the beginning. She never liked how he stopped Betty from going on that trip to the Outback. But her daughter was happy, and that’s what mattered the most. And while their relationship wasn’t the warmest, they respected each other. She comforted Simon whilst Betty was still in surgery.

♡ Betty recovers in the hospital for five more days, drained both physically and emotionally. When she first wakes up following the procedure, she’s unresponsive, almost catatonic, and withdrawn from reality to process all the trauma of the whole situation. Simon and Alice make sure she’s never by herself during those five days.

♡ Alice stays with her daughter one day so that Simon can go to their apartment and bring some of Betty’s stuff to the hospital to help her not be as anxious during her stay.

♡ The day before they were ready to go back home, Alice offered to tidy the place up so Betty could recover in a clutter and stress-free environment. She cleaned the blood off their sheets and carpet, made everything neat, stocked their fridge and pantries with food, and made sure their bathroom had the necessary medical supplies to help the healing process. She also hid all items related to their lost baby in a trunk in their hall closet, out of sight, and waiting for whenever Simon and Betty were ready to try again.

♡ When they came back home, they took three weeks off of work so they could mourn their loss together.

♡ Betty returns to taking all her regular antidepressants and antipsychotics. They stabilize her mood and help keep her focused and ‘normal’ when she returns to work, but she’s still numb and withdrawn for a while.

♡ She visits with her mom more frequently, going over to her and her partner Suzanne’s house once a week. The visits help her in her grief.

♡ When Betty started getting her period again, her heart shattered all over again. Simon asked her mother to come over for a few days. 

♡ Proceeding with caution, Simon asks her about what he discovered in the hospital. He wants to understand her past struggles with her mental health; the suicidal ideation in her childhood, the self-harm tendencies, the OCD, the ADHD, the bipolar disorder she inherited from her mother, her past of pain, all of it. He wants to know so he can fully understand how to help her if she spirals again in the future. 

♡ It’s hard for her to open up about that.

♡ Betty avoids intimate and vulnerable situations with Simon for a while. He doesn’t mind at all and is willing to wait as long as she needs. The farthest she’s willing to go is cuddling with him in her underwear. Two months after coming back from the hospital, they graduate to taking showers together again.

♡ At night, Betty still holds Simon’s hand to her stomach as they sleep in bed.

♡ She can still feel their baby kicking from time to time, like experiencing phantom pain after losing a limb.

♡ In an effort to help Betty heal and get back to her old self, Simon surprises her by taking her on a two-week vacation to Ireland; Betty’s dream trip.

♡ A week into the trip, they retire to their suite early after having dinner at the hotel restaurant along with a bottle of wine. And for the first time since their loss, Betty lets Simon all the way in. That night, they unknowingly conceive their future daughter.

♡ The day before they fly back home to Seattle, Simon proposes. Betty says ‘yes.’ And after three months of sitting with their heartbreak, they feel hopeful for what the future might bring them again.

♡ Two months into their engagement, Simon embarks on a solo journey to follow up on a lead for an especially rare artifact.

♡ We all know what happens from here; what was meant as an innocent and playful gesture sparked earth-shattering consequences.

♡ Betty is absolutely petrified by her fiancee’s abrupt personality switch once he puts on the mysterious crown. That wasn't her Simon. So, when a portal to the future opens showing her the fiancee she knew and loved, she doesn’t think twice before she impulsively jumps through a thousand years and into the land of Ooo.

♡ She's blissfully unaware that she didn't jump through that portal alone.

Reblog, follow me, and come back for Part 5!

[gh0st-t0wn3]

You mentioned in your answer how DBK and PIF would take ACTION when they find their son absolutely exhausted laying his head on his desk ,passed out on a blueprint (probably) but what would be their REACTION, if it makes sence? Like the things going on in their heads? (I'm SO invested in this freaking thing I'm SO sorry----)

(this is very ooc, I know his parents are much worse in canon)

Absolute panic.

The first person to find Redson would be one of the Bull Clones who were patrolling the hallway that Redson's lab is in, it would notice the sudden silence and would request entry but after a few short minutes of no answer would enter anyways out of concern. After finding Redson in his weakened state it would immediately alert his parents who'd come running.

As I mentioned in my DBK and PIF headcanons, they both feel guilty about Redson's poor upbringing; PIF being too emotionally unstable about her husband to take care of him and DBK being sealed away for 500 years. Neither of them had much time to bond with him growing up, but finally have the chance to do so now that their family is together again; and even though they aren't quite sure how to show it they do truly care for Redson, so the news about their son being overworked to the point of being making himself sick would scare them.

DBK would be the one to take Redson to his room while PIF got any necessary medication, bandages for his blistered hands, etc; while the Bull Clones would be ordered clean up his workshop and put away any equipment that's been left out.

Due to how long Redson forced himself to stay awake it would be a good few hours, maybe a day, before he finally woke up again, and when he finally does, the Bull clone looking after him would update his parents on the situation.

DBK would be the most involved in his recovery, as it's the first time he's dealt with Redson while he's sick, he never got sick before he was sealed away so DBK would want to keep an eye on him and be as involved as possible to make sure he's okay and doesn't make his condition any worse, I don't think he'd trust the Bull Clones to look after him on their own.

DBK would be the one to make his meals (with the occasional help of PIF), he'd change Redsons sheets whenever they got dirty, he'd even move a chair into Redson's room to sleep there if he was feeling particularly sick, in case he needed something in the middle of the night. If DBK isn't able to be with Redson overnight, however, he'd ensure at least two Bull Clones are.

PIF truly does care for Redson, and she'd be grateful that he's okay, but I don't think she'd be as involved in his recovery as DBK. PIF seems like the kind of person who gets queezy at the idea of looking after sick people so if Redson was showing any signs of stress-induced illness she'd instead take care of him from afar. She'd help make his meals, get him fresh wet washcloths whenever necessary, a change of bandages, more medication, but she'd have a Bull clone or her husband bring said items to him rather than doing so herself, but would demand periodic updates about his condition nonetheless.

Once Redson has properly recovered enough that they allow him to leave his room again she'd talk to him about a better schedule and maintaining a good work/life balance.

Although they both have different ways of taking care of him, what's going on in their heads are the same: they'd both feel guilty about not noticing his behavior earlier, that they let him overwork himself to the point of passing out and never realized. After this event, though, they'd be sure to keep a better eye on him and make sure he doesn't work for too long at a time again.

(Don't be sorry, please, I love answering people's questions :) )

[remindingpersephone]

The Toll It Takes

Putting this under the cut, for those who would rather not read my rambling

I want to write, but I can’t hold onto the inspiration, or the drive.  I get an idea and it sounds good in theory, but I cannot hold onto it long enough to write it.  The discipline and energy to do the work, even though it’s a labor of love, is still labor. 

Writing has been getting harder and harder for me over the last 10 years or so.  It started as just jumping from story to story.  Then it became not writing for a few days or weeks.  Now it’s more like months and months without writing.

Obviously the upheaval in my life has an effect as well.  I cannot go through all of this – my mom’s need for constant care, the emotional impact of her medical condition and the demands on my time, the stress and anxiety that is a byproduct of all of it – and it not have a profound impact on my creative output.  Hell, it’s having a profound impact on damn near every aspect of my life.

Because this isn’t just my mom getting sick and dying.  This is my life being put on hold to care for her; to put her needs before mine.  And it’s not for just a few weeks or months like we thought at first.  She’s more than 7 months post diagnosis – when the doctor’s gave her less than 6 months to live.  This is a very good thing because it’s given all of us time to spend with her.  But if I am completely honest – and I can only be so here – I want this to be over.  Wanting that floods me with guilt because it’s not like this being “over” means she recovers and life will go back to the way it was.  This only ends with my mother’s death.  Please know that I am grateful that I had the time to care for her in a way that makes her comfortable; so that whatever time she has left she is not miserable, in a horrible place, surrounded by strangers.  I am blessed with support both financially and emotionally from the people in my life.  But there is no break.  I don’t get even one day off.  I haven’t had a day off from the physical and emotional burden of caring for my mother since her diagnosis.  So, I am making due with an hour here, an hour there, and I can only hope that is enough.  But I cannot pretend that this isn’t taking a toll. 

But life always takes a toll, doesn’t it?  Life is never all fun and sunshine and rainbows.  There are difficulties and tiny damages right alongside the parties and celebrations, no matter how successful and wonderful the stage of life.  I know there will come a day when she will be gone and I will have more time.  Will I utilize that time to do all the things I wish I could do right now?  Who knows?  I am a champion at wasting time on “research” or “preparation”.  I think there is a part of me that is mad at myself for not taking advantage of the time I had when I had it, before my mom needed so much more from me.  Is there a lesson to be learned here about not wasting time when we have it?  Probably.  But will I learn it?

I can only hope that once I have the thing I want now – time to myself – I won’t be overwhelmed by the grief and guilt of what it will cost to have it.