#I only cried harder and then had an allergy attack after that

[allhandsondeck1]

What the fuck did I just witness

[dodger-chan]

15 mutuals, 15 questions

tagged by @flowercrowngods Thanks for thinking of me.

1. are you named after anyone?

Yes. My mother's grandmother (first name) and my father's aunt (middle name).

2. when was the last time you cried?

The last time I specifically remember was a couple of years ago when I saw Hadestown. I'm very bad at crying; when I realize I need to I have to sort of trick myself into doing it.

3. do you have kids?

Nope. And not looking to.

4. do you use sarcasm a lot?

Pretty much all the time in person. I try to be more careful about it online since tone can be harder to read.

5. what sports do you play/have you played?

I really don't do/have never done competitive athletics.

I do bike a lot. Twenty mile rides most weekends when the weather cooperates. Bike trainer in the apartment for daily cardio.

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people?

Their presence? Actually, around my apartment building the first thing I tend to observe is if they have a dog. My building is full of dogs and it is fantastic, if allergy inducing.

7. what’s your eye colour?

Hazel

8. scary movies or happy endings?

I think most of my favorite movies have happy endings, so probably that one. I care more that the ending is earned than that it's happy, though.

9. any special talents?

I can memorize long strings of (what seem to me) nonsense syllables and repeat them as though they have meaning. The only practical use I've had for this talent/skill was in high school drama club. I played a character who spoke almost entirely in a fictional language and I got the role solely because no one else could make the babble sound like lines. If I were a good singer, I could maybe use this skill for opera, but alas, I sing like a cat being murdered.

10. where were you born?

Los Angeles, California.

11. what are your hobbies?

Reading. Yarn crafts, like knitting and crochet. More reading. Writing.

12. do you have pets?

Not at the moment. Well, a spouse. It's a bit like having a cat in that he mostly looks after himself and likes sit on my lap when I'm trying to write. But unlike a cat he doesn't give me hives or trigger an asthma attack.

13. how tall are you?

5'0" (152.4 cm, for those of you who aren't American)

14. favourite subject at school?

Math. Always math. Best math classes: linear algebra, logic and proof, statistical theory (that class was so difficult, but I use what I learned there all the time)

15. dream job?

I used to work as a library page. Just putting books on the shelf, in the correct order, for 20 hours a week. If I'm selling my time for money, that's the labor I really enjoy

tagging: You know, I'm not sure I have fifteen mutuals. So I'll just tag some people I haven't seen these from. @counting-dollars-counting-stars @greenlikethesea @threewaywithdelusion @rosethevoid @sthound @sharpbutsoft @motsimages

[delimeful]

to taste your beating heart (4)

warnings: nightmares, flashbacks, mind control/thrall mention, mental breakdown, blood mention, impalement/staking, upsetting thoughts, panic, ptsd responses

-

A plastic-sounding click, like someone pressing a button.

Anx took a breath, staring intently at the person bustling around across from him.

Patton was making tea like someone vying for a professional butler position: setting saucers and cups in front of each of them, managing the teapot with a steady hand, motions smooth and automatic.

“Sorry, I’m just so used to setting up refreshments for guests,” he chuckled nervously. “My sister always insists on tea when she comes by, so—“

Logan shifted next to him, impatient and more than a little irritated after every one of his inquiries had been deflected or outright ignored. Patton had invited them in, though, and he was currently their best lead on one of the most vicious cases they’d ever dealt with.

Even if he seemed utterly incapable of answering any of their actual questions.

That wasn't saying he wasn't willing to talk at all. Roman was chattering with him, their most sociable member easily drawn into discussion and more than willing to natter on in the hopes that Patton would let some vital information slip.

Anx wasn’t the only one who noted the way their host set an extra saucer and cup out, but when he met Logan’s gaze, the hunter only rolled his eyes, more than content to dismiss it as another element of the stranger’s apparent airheaded personality.

Patton was still speaking, discussing the many alleged merits of ignoring allergies for the sake of fulfilling experiences. Roman, who was lactose intolerant, was nodding along wholeheartedly. Logan, who was the one to deal with Roman’s post-dairy consumption whining, looked a lot less agreeable.

His own attention remained pinned on Patton’s movements rather than his words. There was a pattern there, a careful turn of the cup so the handle was facing the right side, lift the teapot from the warmer, and pour. One by one, he went around the table.

Anx was the only one watching when the man finally fumbled. After pouring each of their cups with surprising grace, he reached that final, fifth teacup. He twisted the handle so it was right-aligned, lifted the teapot, poured— and then reached for what looked like a cream pitcher.

A beat late, Patton’s hands suddenly swerved to the side, and he pulled them back as though he’d been burned. His voice didn’t even falter.

Anx reached across the table lightning-quick and seized the pitcher, knocking a few of the porcelain jars over and effectively cutting through the conversion as he did. Roman was asking something, but Patton only stared at him, something both fearful and grateful in his gaze.

Anx pulled the lid off, and the thick smell of blood hit him, like iron and rust.

“Your sister, you said?” Logan asked, and Patton bit his lip hard enough to bleed.

Click.

He was in a different room of the same tiny apartment, though it took him a moment to recognize the interior.

Put bluntly, it looked as though a miniature hurricane had torn through it.

The wallpaper was shredded and splattered. The cute decorative furniture had been thrown askew at best, smashed to bits at worst. Everything was in disarray, the valuable and mundane targeted indiscriminately. An entire life torn to pieces.

In the eye of the storm, Patton stood, hands fisted in his hair and eyes bloodshot.

They’d known the backlash of the bond breaking would be hard on Patton, but they hadn’t been prepared for this. It was entirely possible that they had never run into a thrall this strong, one maintained for so long, in their entire hunting career.

Most aggressive thralls would attack relentlessly to defend their master from harm. Seeing as they’d been the ones to kill his “sister”, if Patton was going to vent his ire on anyone, it would be them. Roman stepped forwards carefully regardless, knowing that they owed it to him to at least try to help him recover. “Patton?”

“I should have helped her,” he replied tonelessly, voice half-ruined from screaming. He picked up a broken chunk of a table leg, and they all went tense, but all he did was slam it against the wall.

“I should have saved her!” he cried, punctuating every word with a swing. “Where is she, where is she, what did I do to her?”

“A better question would be: what did she do to you?” Logan asked, ignoring the sharp look Anx sent his way. They’d all been unsettled at the way the vamp had talked about Patton, like someone possessive over a favored plaything, but that didn’t mean they should be bringing it up now.

They’d finally gotten Patton’s full attention, as he turned to them with angry tears in his eyes. “She did everything for me! And I— I gave her away, I betrayed her…”

“She was hurting people,” Anx cut in, voice firm but not unkind. For all that he’d been through, Patton didn’t deserve unkind.

“I could have fixed it, I thought I was— I was getting through to her,” he pleaded, his voice unsteady and unconvincing even to himself. He dropped the wood, pressing bleeding knuckles against his face to stem the tears.

“It’s not your fault, Patton, okay?” Roman tried, stepping closer until he could reach out and set his hand on a trembling shoulder. Patton only seemed to bow further with the weight of his grief.

“Giving her up was supposed to kill me,” he said softly, the frenzy gone from him. “How am I supposed to live without her?”

“The same way everyone else does,” Roman pulled him in for a hug, his own eyes wetter than they’d been before. “One day at a time.”

Click.

The living room of the house— their house.

Perhaps more importantly, the smell of something burning.

Anx had always been twitchy about things like this-- a thousand potential disasters in mind for every little inconvenience-- so he bolted off the arm of the couch the moment the scent registered.

When he got to the kitchen, he heard the rattle of an active microwave, saw Patton standing and staring blankly at the display as the inside of the microwave clouded up with smoke.

Cringing at the thought of the smoke alarm going off, he turned on the overhead fan and pulled the window up before finally yanking the microwave door open.

A plastic takeout container was halfway to a melted puddle, mixing with whatever leftovers had formerly resided there. He slid on a pair of duck-themed oven mitts and grabbed the most solid-looking parts, quickly lifting and carrying the mess to the balcony where it could cool down without making their house smell like burnt plastic.

When he returned, Patton was still in that same spot, frowning slightly as though just realizing that something might be a little off. Like someone had pressed pause while the world fast-forwarded around him, Patton had described it once.

Anx flitted about for a moment, putting the mitts back and cleaning the leftover residue, and then finally faced his friend with a wry half-smile. Patton’s eyes snapped to him, as though just realizing he was there.

“Hey, Pat.” He reached out and set his hand against Patton’s back, watching as the touch helped ground him slightly. “Can you go sit at the table? I’ll bring us both something to eat.”

Without a word, Patton turned and walked to their little dining table.

Cooking was admittedly harder when he ducked away to check on the other room every few moments, but he managed alright, only singeing the eggs slightly where Roman would have incinerated them.

He set the table for them both, and sat across from Patton, who was motionless and quiet in his chair.

“Can we eat together?” Anx asked, offering Patton a fork so there was a physical prompt as well as a verbal one.

It took a moment, but Patton gripped the fork easily and started to work through the motions of eating, mirroring Anx. Whenever he faltered or seemed to forget what he was in the middle of, Anx would nudge his attention back on track.

Once they were finished, he gathered up his dishes and asked Patton to grab his, carrying them back to the kitchen together.

Patton paused for a moment at the sink, mouth twitching into a frown as he stared at his glass and the lingering layer of orange juice at the bottom.

“Does anyone want tea?” he asked suddenly, a well-practiced line in a cheery tone. “I’m very good at tea service, you know.”

Anx swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m good, Pat,” he declined instead of pointing out that they didn’t have any tea in the house.

Patton seemed to get a little hazier, his face going sad and then quickly lax again. Anx took the glass from him and offered him a hand to hold instead, squeezing his palm comfortingly when he accepted.

“I need help out in the garden today. Do you think you could lend a hand or two?”

He dipped his head in a nod, and as they made their way to the back door, Anx shot a text off to the group chat.

> nightmare on edge street: out in the garden with pat. bad day protocol, stat

When they came back in hours later, dirt under their nail beds and probably a little sunburned, Roman and Logan had already combined their talents to set up an elaborately decorated but still structurally sound blanket fort spanning the entirety of the living room.

Patton’s face twitched into a tremulous little smile as the others waved them over, and Anx felt him squeeze their joined hands gratefully.

Click.

The sequence rewound, restarted. Ran him through it over and over, the same scenes-- the same memories. Patton pouring tea with a determined, terrified glint to his eye. Patton’s mind struggling under the stress of the snapped bond. Patton working through a difficult day with the help of friends.

The scenery grew brighter and brighter with every repetition, like saturation turned all the way up on a screen, until they were as painful as sunlight on his bare skin. He tried to close his eyes, to move away, to change something, anything, but his body wasn’t his own.

Look at him, it seemed to demand, keeping him frozen in a sensory hell. Pay attention. Look what you did. Understand how you hurt him.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

Clunk.

Silence. The memories vanished, leaving him floating in an impossible, endless black space. Between one blink and the next, he was eye-to-eye with a mirror image, something about it just slightly off.

He didn’t notice the stake in its hand until it was too late.

---

Anx jerked upright, hands jumping to his chest as the phantom sensation of wood between his ribs faded. His breath stuttered painfully, as though he expected to feel ichor welling up in his mouth any minute.

Staking a vampire was an archaic hunter method. It was difficult to manage, it was messy, and it was the slowest and most painful way possible to kill a vampire. He knew this, though he wasn’t sure which life was providing the facts.

Regardless of memories, he couldn’t know how it felt to actually be staked. He’d been injured before, with a coven as temperamental as his, but nothing like that. Nothing even close to that. It was just a bad dream, an imagined pain.

There was a subtle shifting nearby, and his head snapped up, eyes bright and teeth bared. If those assholes thought he was in the mood to have his space invaded--

“Easy, Count Chocula.” Across the room, the sword-wielder-- Roman, that was his name-- settled back into the armchair by the door, watching him with narrowed eyes. “I was simply noticing your… abrupt awakening?”

Right. Because he wasn’t settled into one of the tiny, dark rooms reserved for the newly-turned and those who couldn’t shake off the urge to sleep. He was captured by weird hunters, who trapped him in their weird house, and asked weird invasive leading questions about his weird night terrors.

He was also tucked into a bed, for some reason.

The comforter had already slipped down halfway due to his sudden jolt into wakefulness, and he wasted no time in kicking free of the sheets. The room was surprisingly dark in both theme and lighting, with deep purple walls and heavy spiderweb-patterned curtains blocking out any potential sunlight.

There was also a warding circle of ash carefully smudged in a perimeter around the bed, the burning containment runes strong enough to make him want to sneeze even from this distance. The diameter of the circle was wide enough that he could theoretically keep away from any stabbings if he pissed Roman off enough, but add even one more hunter to the mix and it would take virtually no effort to pincer him.

Nothing he could do about the new cage for now, with the hunter staring at him expectantly from his sentry position. He sent a poisonous glare back and hissed, still crouched on the bed like an exceptionally angry gargoyle.

Roman pressed an offended hand to his chest, but was cut off by an inordinately cheerful knock at the door. His expression flickered to a sort of bitter resignation, and he shot Anx a much more serious warning look before unlocking and cracking the door open.

“Hey, Pat! I thought you were taking a nap?” he asked with impressively feigned lightness to his voice.

“I was, I just— Is he awake?” Another too-familiar voice replied, sounded distracted. “I felt…”

“Yeah, Padre,” Roman admitted after a strained pause. “He’s up. You remember your key?”

“Of course!” Patton said, and neither of them elaborated on what the hell that was supposed to mean. Roman stepped aside, and Patton beelined to the bed like a compass needle to true north.

He stopped just short of the circle, like a determined enough— or cornered enough— vamp couldn’t reach out and drag him in. “Anx! I’ve been so worried about you! You took quite a tumble, are you feeling alright?”

Anx stared at him. The words were bright, but there was a thread of something fervent and barely-controlled in them, something frenetic in the way he shifted from foot to foot. It sent a pervasive feeling of wrongness down his spine, like looking at an old photograph and realizing that something you remembered from it was entirely absent.

Anx didn’t— couldn’t know enough about Patton to recognize when he was acting off, but every piece slotted neatly into place anyways, dragging him to a conclusion he didn’t intend to realize; Patton was pretending, ignoring the parts of him that felt bad to reassure the rest of them. After everything he'd already gone through, he was bearing the stress of being thralled without a word.

He could feel the thrall tether pulled taut between them, already mentally frayed from both the time passed since feeding and the pain that had ricocheted through him at his last order. Looking at Patton like this, it was bizarrely easy to loosen his grip and let that last thread connecting them fall apart.

Patton’s shoulders eased, all of him sagging slightly like a puppet with strings cut. And wasn’t that just an uncomfortably accurate metaphor.

In the next moment, the hunter was stepping neatly over the line of ash and into the circle, arms lifted. Roman shouted something, but his alarmed words were meaningless noise against the roar of anticipatory fear that overcame Anx.

Get away, his instincts screamed, but his body remained stuck, stalled by a resentful whisper in the back of his mind: Doesn’t he deserve to get a few hits in though? Look at what you did to him.

A sudden touch made him curl in on himself, but the arms that folded around him were careful, even gentle. His head jerked up, and sure enough, Patton was hugging him. He froze, struck dumb.

Over Patton’s shoulder, Roman was stopped a few feet away, hand outstretched as though he’d planned to yank Patton back out of the danger zone. Anx met his stare, eyes round as quarters.

“I did not tell him to do this,” he blurted, and Patton’s chest vibrated with a little sniffly chuckle. The human was so warm.

At the door, Logan appeared, glasses slightly askew. “Patton? I heard—“

He paused, taking in the room. His expression grew more and more unimpressed. “... I see. Exactly what happened while I was away?”

[thecolordemon]

Haha hi :) I already asked but I wanna do it properly here. So, can I request headcanons abt the brothers reactions after knowing that MC had an incurable disease and they're gonna die soon? Thanks! 💕 (Btw I LOVE ur drawing)

Of course you can😊 It will be my first time writing Angst in the english language🤣😅 but I hope you'll enjoy it either way because who doesn't like to suffer a little bit? @flyme--tothemoon I added some shortstorys to the headcanon because...I couldn't help myself.

Request: Headcanons-How would the brothers react after knowing that MC had an incurable disease and that they're gonna die soon?🥺😭

⚠️Angst, Sadness, mentions of illness and death⚠️

*Lucifer*:

he noticed some sickenly sweet scent lingering over your small frame since you arrived in Devildom

but he couldn't put his finger on it

he never lived among humans how could he know?

he couldn't

and that's the whole point

he asks you about it during having dinner with all of the brothers

when your laughter dies down everything else turns quiet too

he knows immediately that something is wrong

"Did someone else noticed it too?" you ask without looking up

they nod

"Well...I guess...I have to tell you something."

Angsty/Sad Short story (other brothers below):

They all looked at you with big eyes. Filled with questions and worries because of the sad little smile that crept on your face and conquered your lips like a dark sky swallowing the sun. All of them noticed that sickenly sweet scent over your normal aroma. They just didn't thought that it would be such a big deal... "Well...I guess...I have to tell you something."

You cleared your throat and put down your cutlery. It was weird...I kind of felt like the day where you got your deadly diagnosis.

But this time you were the doctor.

And your beloved demons were the patients.

You knew that you couldn't hide it from them forever. Being here was like a daydream and it made you forget your disease a little bit more every day. Living with the demons brought so much new adventures in your life that the illness seemed so far away. It was like you left it at home. In the human world. Somewhere where it couldn't reach you. Throughout the day you never wasted a single thought about your approaching death. And why would you? Death was unavoidable. In the end everbody dies...Just for you it meant, that death would greet you a little bit sooner.

"Two years ago...I fainted. I was not feeling good for a...very, very long time after this. And it did not get better. I thought I hit my head a little bit to hard on the concrete. I...vomited very often and that one night my parents took me to a hospital because of it. They wanted to make sure that I'm okay..." You stopped and looked down at you fingers which were intertwined with the black tablecloth. This night was branded inside your mind like a tattoo you never asked for. Neither did you like it. The brothers did not dare to interrupt you. You could just feel them all staring at you. It was so quiet...so terribly quiet.

"It truned out that...I have a very dangerous disease." you continued. The swallowing felt so much harder now...like something big and bitter was stuck in your throat. "And...sadly...there is no cure..." The bitterness stung in your eyes and you had to fight back the hot upcoming tears. The hopeless and shocked faces of your family were something you could never possibly forget. And right now all of the brothers had this exact same shattered expression on their faces. You bit your bottom lip and your nails digged into the soft skin of you thighs.

"...Is it...deadly?" Lucifer asked and his voice sounded oddly thin. For a little while you did nothing but to stare into space. You did not want them to see you cry. Not when you had to be strong for them again...but then you nodded.

"yes." you breathed. "Yes, it's deadly. They said I have 3 years left-"

The following opressive silence was broken when some of the brothers shifted uncomfortably in their seats. One of them dropped a knife. But nobody saied something. It was like some higher power turned the volume of the universe down. 'Well-' you thought to yourself. 'Maybe this is what shock sounds like...' When you forced yourself to look up, the effects of your confession showed.

All of them were pale. Nobody seemed to breath. Nobody talked. You could see them falling when you looked into their eyes. They were all being swallowed by the big black hole that was your disease and there was no safe shore in sight. You broke them...

All of them.

"I'm so sorry-" you whispered. "I'm sorry for doing this to you." None of them reacted. You couldn't stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks anymore. The salty liquid dribbled over your warm skin like raindrops over glass and ran down to your chin. "I wanted to tell you but--I couldn't-you all made me feel so good that finally I stopped worrying about it-I didn't mean to hurt you--please forgive me-" The sobs came out of your mouth like little hickups.

'They hate me--they hate me for breaking them-I'm a terrible person-'

Lucifer suddenly stood up. His jaw was clenched and his hands were balled into fists. He shoved his chair back and walked around the dinner table until he stood before you. Sadness and anger radiated of him like a upcoming thunderstorm and it scared you.

Would he hurt you? Would he send you back? Would he banish you from the Devildom?

You thoughts were interrupted when he suddenly embraced you in a very thight hug. His fingertips digged deep into the flesh of you back and he hold you so close as if you were going to disappear right on the spot. It took your breath away. "L-Lucifer?-"

The avatar of pride trembled. And there was something wet in your hair...was he crying?! Finally he spoke. His voice broken like a shattered mirror. "You're--telling us--that you're going to die--and still you're-apologizing for it?!-" His grip thightend. "I thought you would hate me now--" you cried desperately. His hug send shivers down your spine. "MC, you're part of our family-We could never hate you-" His voice broke again. "I'm the one who needs to apologize! I ripped you away from your human family! While you have such little time left-I brought you here without checking your whole background-my research was horrible and icomplete-I am the one who has to apologize! Not you! Not you!!" He grabbed you by your shoulders and now you were able to see it. He was really crying. Lucifer, the avatar of pride, was crying. His crimson red eyes were glassy and shimmered with so much regret.

"No-No don't say this Lucifer, please--I'm so happy here--this is my home too-I'm so glad I got the chance to meet all of you-" Your hand reached his wet cheek and he shivered when you did so. "You all made my time so much better than I could've ever imagined-And I'm so grateful-" You whimpered and burried your face in Lucifer's red tie. Your attention was pulled towards Mammon when you heared his sobbing.

*Mammon*:

"This--this is not fair--" Mammon stood up too and he trembled like an earthquake was running through his body. "Finally I meet someone who is nice to me-someone who listens to me-someone who doesn't treat me like shit or like I'm dump--and now-" His thin voice broke in a shaky cry. "I fucking love you-" He broke down and fell to his knees, his face twisted in deep hurt and despair. His glasses and cheeks were already covered in hot, steamy tears and his hands fisted into the rough carpet. Satans hand touched his back but even he did not know what to do. It was a sad single try to calm Mamon down but it didn't work. "Mammon--" you breathed with a hitching voice while still beeing hugged by Lucifer. "I'm sorry-"

"QUIET APOLOGIZING, WILL YA?!" he screamed and then went back to crying hopelessly. His horns showed. He was interrupted by Leviathan's weak voice.

*Leviathan*:

"I-I don't understand-", he whispered and stood next to the quivering Mammon. He looked like he saw a ghost. He was so pale that it looked like he was starting to disappear. His eyes were red and the tears streamed down like little waterfalls. His small frame trembled uncontrollably and his hands were deep inside his pockets. "We were having so much fun together-we were staying up all night together to play videogames-and now this all is--ending?" A new wave of tears gushed over his face. "This wasn't healthy at all--I hurt you-I didn't knew--I-I'm sorry-" His fingers fisted into his lilac hair and he pulled harshly as if he tried to wake himself from this nightmare. "You're my friend---" Asmodeus tried to stop him. "You will get bold-stop-" But he was also not in a good condition. Neither was Satan.

*Satan*:

He normally really payed close attention to his mimic and gesture. But right now...He couldn't even think straight. It was clearly visible that he was deeply upset and his left hand massages his torso like he had a heart attack. "MC-why didn't you tell us sooner?-" There were tears appearing in the corner of his eyes. "I read so much--maybe we could find a magic cure-I newly read a paragraph about-" But you interrupted him right away. "Satan--I know you want to stop it but--there is no solution in no book-I talked with Simeon about it-I asked if he could miracle it away--but he couldn't. He said that only guardian angles are allowed to do such a thing--and they have to be very powerful to do that-and since there are people on earth living under worse conditions-" Your voice broke and Satan looked away in shame when he couldn't stop the tears anymore. He hated not being in control-He would lose you-.

*Asmodeus*:

"God does not throw dice-" Asmodeus whimpered and everyone looked at him. His beautiful eyes were red and puffy from all the crying and not beautiful at all. It looked like he had a terrible allergy against something unknown. But right now he couldn't care less about his appearance. "That's something I always hated about god--They say there is a reason for everything but they won't tell you an actual reason--and then you're still stuck with your problems all by yourself-" He cried out in despair and hid his face behind his fingers. "-without a solution-" he added with a very thin voice. That was just to much for him and he had to cuddle up to Satan for more support. "How can they leave you to die--you-such a perfect human being like you-you should be the top of their creation-how is this possible-." His pink painted fingernails clawed over his flawless skin and left red stripes. He looked like a locked up animal-trying to break free.

*Beelzebub*:

Beelzebub is a quiet soul by nature. Not a man of big and a lot words. And now he seems even more quiet than before. He can't wrap his head around this new, horrible informations. He grew so fond of you, he needs you, you make him feel better-Fuck it all you brought his brother back! And now you're going to be punished with-Death?! That's not fair at all-that's not okay-he can't lose you-not like he lost Belphie-not like he lost Lillith-he-. With big steps he walked towards you and Lucifer. He towers above both of you like a big mountain that's ready to collapse. Without hestiation he pulls you and his oldest brother into a crushing hug. Tears dribble down from his face into your hair and mix with Lucifer's tears. "We can't lose you MC-your family-family means that nobody gets left behind-."

*Belphegor*:

He is the calmest of his brothers. At least it seems like that. He is just sitting there processing what you just said. You are going to die. In less than a year actually. You're going to die and this means that you're going to leave. His eyes flutter in confusion. He was never upset about humans dying. That's what they do. They live, they die. It's that simple. He knew that. He always knew that. He also knew that you were going to die. One day.

...But why so fast?! Why so damn fast?! His heart beats harder, nearly bursting with anger. His tail and horns appear and his whole demon form starts to mainfest in front of you and his brothers. "No!!", he shouts. "I'm not having this! We need to do something-we-" His eyes land on you and that's just to much. "Who do you think you are?! Huh?! You come down here and wreck our worlds, you live with us, you eat with us-you improve our lifes-and-now--" His tail flinches with agression. Belphie's eyes are drowing in tears as his angers makes place for the deep grief that takes over his whole body. He also, like Mammon, falls to his knees. "You can't leave Mc--I need you-"

(Okay I'm gonna leave now, I cried a little bit while writing and...yeah...maybe I'm just sensitive🥺 I hope it's angsty enough though...)

[beerecordings]

thinking about how in the Marvin’s Cage au or in any version of “Marvin’s the one who traps JJ in the box and then when they find out Jackie kicks Marvin out and brings Jameson home” Jackie would be SO SO over-protective and highkey loving and affirming and spoil Jameson so much because

this little guy has been through actual hell and he’s a nervous wreck who’s never been loved before, of course Jackie’s going to smother him in affection

2. Jackie’s little brother was the one who trapped him so Jackie feels like he has to make up for Marvin’s cruelty and also he blames himself for not seeing the signs and saving Jameson sooner

3. Jackie misses Marvin so much and compensates for it by putting all of that missing love onto Jameson

(and it’s a little unhealthy (okay maybe really unhealthy at times) because he’s projecting his memories of the relationship he and Marvin had when Marvin was young and innocent and loved him so much and he can’t help but see young Marvin in this new little brother. Jackie really wants to protect and foster him so he doesn’t lose that innocence like Marvin did, because just thinking about having to kick out another brother or realize that they’ve done something horrible is enough to make him break down)

okay and then i just wrote like a whole damn essay on Jackie’s anxiety and relationship with JJ after he has to kick Marvin out so i’m putting it under a cut hahaha

He starts giving Henrik and Chase a lot of extra affection too, like suddenly he’s treating them a lot less like they’re just friends and more like they’re his little brothers, and even like they’re much younger than they are. Henrik gets irritated because Jackie is bossier in his caretaking now, insisting that he go to bed earlier than four in the morning and threatening to carry him there if he doesn’t - but Jackie also sometimes just comes and sits with him while he’s working and Henrik understands that this is his way of trying to protect him and allows it because he wants to see Jackie heal. Chase doesn’t mind the extra attention at all, suddenly Jackie is taking time off superhero stuff to stay home and do fun things with him and he’ll even cuddle up with him on the couch a little while they watch movies and stuff! it’s pretty great, but Chase can tell sometimes that Jackie is only acting happy to try and make him happy, because they both miss Marvin a lot. but nobody in the house talks about Marvin. they haven’t even explained everything that happened to JJ.

Jackie just spoils the hell out of him. he brings JJ presents every couple nights, anything from cute socks he saw or a cool rock to hot chocolate and bigger presents from stores like clothes and art stuff. Henrik keeps warning him not to spoil him too much, because JJ is learning pretty well that he can get whatever he wants just by pouting a little and Henrik knows it’s not mature, but Jackie can’t help it!! he wants to give him whatever he needs!!

when Jameson has panic attacks or nightmares, Jackie can’t be removed from his side, or at the very least he’s standing outside his door guarding him. they’ve never seen him quite this worked up about protecting someone!! usually part of the reason Jackie is comforting during anxious or depressive episodes is because he’s so calm and sure, but now he gets upset and weepy whenever Jamie shows the smallest signs of distress, because he can’t stop thinking about Marvin being the one who did this to him. he’ll sit up with Jameson long into the night and tell him over and over again that he’s safe, that he loves him, that he’ll never let anything take him away again.

Jackie has like. a thousand pictures of Jameson just smiling on his phone. he cried the first time Jameson smiled at him (he was the first one of them he did smile at and nothing makes Jackie feel more like a good big brother than that)

he teases Chase and Henrik about being shitty at things lol (”YOU SUCK AT MARIO CART HA”) but with Jameson it’s all this “no no no you’re doing so good buddy!! here i’ll teach you how to fix this one little thing!!” and Chase and Henrik are just like. “jackie we hate u” but it’s pretty funny really

he trained Chase and Henrik to fight - at least the basics - within the first couple months of their creation, but he’s much more cautious with Jamie. Henrik and Chase have to be the ones to teach him the first couple lessons just to prove to Jackie that he can do it and he won’t break. and then? Jackie trains Jameson harder than he ever trained the others, trying to make him as strong as he can, as skilled as he can, trying to make sure Jameson will be able to protect himself even if something happens to him.

Chase and Henrik are watching all this a little nervously. Jackie adores Jameson, melts for Jameson, dotes on Jameson - it’s pretty damn cute, but it worries them a little, especially because, as Jameson matures, he starts to act more adult around them and then reverts back to “i am tiny and need love :333″ around Jackie

it’s when Jackie has a complete meltdown in Henrik’s arms about how he’s constantly, constantly terrified for his baby brother that they realize there’s like... a real big problem going on here. they call up their old family therapist (they haven’t been going since Marvin... left) and they start trying to work this stuff out. Jackie has Jameson under his arm the whole first session, trying not to cry because this place reminds him of Marvin, anxious to have his little brother in a new place, constantly assuring JJ everything’s going to be okay - projecting his own anxiety onto his little brother and telling himself he’s fine, it’s JJ who needs help, it’s JJ who’s been through trauma, not Jackie... Jameson lets Jackie hold him and pats his knee comfortingly. by the end of the session Jackie is thinking maybe Jamie understands him better than he understands himself, and he’s overwhelmingly grateful that his little brother is letting him do what he feels like he needs to do to help himself survive this grief

they have to push Jackie to even allow Jameson to progress as an adult because he’s just so terrified of anything happening to his baby brother. he’s like that mom watching her kid try to leave for the first day of school like “do you have everything you need??? recite my phone number back to me. don’t talk to strangers!! hold your brother’s hand when you cross the street! I already called the school to tell them all about your allergies and to ask the teacher to be nice to you!!! wait give me one more hug!!! i love you!!!!!!!!” and Jamie’s actually really excited to go to the movies for the first time but Jackie’s all stressed and upset. Henrik and Chase are pulling him away like “MOM WE’RE FINE” and Jackie’s waving them goodbye from the door and texting them every fifteen minutes for updates... lol he loves him

and once he gets on board with Jameson growing up and being more independent and adjusts to it, he takes him to all his favorite places and to do all his favorite things because he just wants to share every part of his life with Jameson and give him all the happiness he can

it takes Jackie a really long time to learn to show any weakness around Jameson because he doesn’t want him to feel unsafe, but Jameson is so supportive of him once he starts opening up to him. Jamie is always trying to return all the love he’s been given and he learns all the best ways to take care of all his brothers when they’re suffering. Jackie thinks the world of him for that and tells him he has a really good heart

in the end they mostly just have to let Jackie grieve Marvin (healthy grief takes about six months) and adjust to someone new in the house, and after that he mellows out about it, but Jameson is still his little buddy and he loves him so so much and spoils the hell out of him hahaha. it’s good for Jameson to be mother-henned a little bit for the first few months and improves his self-esteem, really. no matter how he’s feeling he almost always believes that Jackie, at least, loves him and will never betray or imprison him like that bad man in the mask did.

about a year after taking Jameson in to the house, Jackie and Jameson are best of friends and see each other as equals. they both look out for each other when they’re sad or in trouble and love each other so so much. Jackie still brings JJ presents a couple times a month, and now JJ gets them for him too, and there’s nothing that makes Jackie happier.

[bobbiejelly]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24039004/chapters/57840982

Soothe

In Which Meredith teaches Addison how to self-soothe.

Before Meredith married Derek, and After she'd almost told Addison she liked her.

F/F. Meredith Grey/Addison Montgomery. MerAdd. Meddison. GA/PP Fanfiction. 

Set during GA - "Before After/An Honest Mistake & PP - Acceptance/Ex-Life. Rated M.

Inspired by "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" by @lespians, "Blame Game" by @lordoflezzies, and "All We Ever Are We Are" by SilverStarsAndMoons.

Chapter 1: Someone Worth Worrying Over

 In Which Meredith teaches Addison she's someone worth worrying over.

Meredith Grey finds Addison Montgomery crying in the residents' lounge.

She's not so sure why Addison would even be here, since it's not like she's even a resident, anymore.

And it's not like she's ever been a Seattle Grace Hospital resident, ever.

And it's not like she's ever been in the resident's lounge for no reason, ever.

Not that Meredith has ever noticed or seen her in here, at least, that she remembers.

  Addison looks like she's been sobbing and ugly-crying, and Meredith thinks for a moment she should maybe leave Addison all alone.

Because she's sort of her ex-husband's ex-mistress and then was his ex-girlfriend and now is his current-girlfriend and maybe soon to even be his current-fiance… If she says yes, to Derek Shepherd, that is...

She'd never told anyone that she'd found that ring in his pocket last week.

She never even told Cristina that, and she usually told Cristina everything.

But Cristina would probably want to be happy for her, and she's not sure she wants to be happy for herself, so she never said anything to anyone, ever. Not even Cristina.

And so now she is standing behind Addison Forbes Montgomery, her ex-teacher and ex-mentor and ex-Mrs. McDreamy and she's not sure what to do or to say at all, or if she'll say anything, about that, or about anything else, to anyone, or to Addison, ever.

  She should probably walk right away right now, run away from it all.

She should probably not rekindle the bittersweet inklings of not quite friendship but not quite not-friendship that she'd once shared with Addison in solidarity over Derek.

Back then a few years ago when Addison was the adulterous satan and she was the dirty blonde mistress and things were so, so, much different for both of them, back then, anyway.

And then now Addison is just somebody she used to know from her past, from their past.

Because Meredith likes to think that they had something that had been shared together that was other than Derek, their mutual 'shared' ex-though-not-so-ex-for-Meredith-anymore…

And back then, they had gotten along, usually when something really really BAD had happened.

  Like when Meredith had been in an explosion and George told her later that Addison had freaked out when she found out it was her hand on the bomb and no longer Hannah's.

Like when she drowned off the sound and Addison stayed in the room with her while Derek tried and failed to resuscitate Meredith's mother. Which wasn't actually his fault, per se, unlike some of the other things that were probably actually Derek's fault.

Like when Addison had come back for a few days last year and she said she wanted to kick Meredith's ass for letting Derek 'get away with that doe-eyed-thing' nurse Rose or something who had been his McRebound before he left her for Meredith after she'd built him a candle house.

  Addison was a constant in Meredith's life for so long.

Addison had been a grownup she looked up to, who helped her, who cared for her for no reason when no one else could understand.

Addison had been there for Meredith, even though she could have, and probably should have, hated her to high heavens.

But Addison was different, because she didn't hate Meredith, and instead, she stood up for Meredith, and not only to annoy the hell out of Derek.

Addison did things like talk to her when she was on drugs. Meredith remembers the drugs and the talking but she doesn't remember anything that she said or Addison said then because it was all such a blur of being so goddamn relieved she wasn't pregnant with his baby McTwisted.

Addison did all sorts of nice things for Meredith, like bring her hot chocolate juju and try to be her friend, and take care of her dog, and not kill her when she slept with her then-husband.

  And Meredith sort of wishes she could bring Addison some hot-chocolate juju right now. Except she doesn't have any hot chocolate and she doesn't have her credit card or her change here.

So instead, she just sits next to Addison, who notices her immediately and still sits there beside her.

And eventually, Meredith says to her "I wish I had some hot chocolate to give you, but then again, you gave it to me when people were dying, and I don't want anyone to be dying, you know, because of like some weird reverse-juju sort of side-effects, so I don't have any now…"

Meredith realizes her rambles are not making any sense, so instead, she just asks Addison "what's wrong?" And she waits for Addison to either tell her, or not tell her, or just walk away.

"My brother might be dying, my best friend is his new girlfriend, and this best friend's ex-husband is having fake asthma attacks over her, and I have no one having fake medical problems over ME, and I can't think of anyone who ever would, Meredith," says Addison softly to Meredith Grey.

"Oh," Meredith says just that because she has nothing quick and good to say to that one.

  And Meredith just sits there, sort of stunned because it takes her a good two minutes to sort out all of the boyfriends and best friends and fake medical problems from real medical problems that were all sprinkled into that last sentence like a fruit medley, tossed together in a combination that was confusing, yet comforting.

And Meredith tries to come up with a response to that because she has nothing to offer to comfort Addison for her brother. Because Archer Montgomery has like, worms in his brain and her… Derek had to do something about it and selfishly, she hoped that he would because if he failed he'd probably go all ballistic and Meredith would have to talk him down all through that…

And Meredith starts to focus on the other parts, like how Addison's best friend is sort of seeing her brother and how that must hurt. And hurts even more because she's got no one. And this confuses Meredith because Addison is like a sex-goddess and she had Derek for like 11 years until he got tired of her or something which also makes no sense and then Meredith says to her,

"I would, you know if you'd let me, I definitely would, and thank you for telling off Archer for me," says Meredith Grey to her softly. "I would have all sorts of fake asthma and fake allergies and fake medical problems worrying myself over you all the time, Addison…".

And then Meredith sees Addison look up at her, a bit shocked and confused and then she's wondering if Addison could even sort out HER sentence with all the hypothetical nonexistent excuses she just said she'd make up if she were to be, hypothetically, worrying herself over Addison, while she's non-hypothetically worrying herself over Addison, now.

"Oh," Addison just says just that because she has no idea what to respond with so she just mirrors Meredith having said 'oh' to her, earlier.

  Meredith is terrified suddenly that Addison is going to start crying again or hyperventilating or something again. Or maybe she'll run away, ('I would probably run away, but then again I always run away…' Thinks Meredith to herself rather idly.). But Addison doesn't run away, instead, she just keeps sobbing to herself all alone even with Meredith there beside her, she cries all alone.

And Meredith doesn't want Addison to feel all alone anymore, so she wraps her thin arms around Addison's shoulders and nestles her head into the crook of Addison's neck. "You know, you're worth worrying over, you really are," Meredith says to her then. And Addison cries even harder, and Meredith realizes, sadly, that it's been a while since anyone has said something like that to her.

So Meredith says it again, she starts saying it over and over. She keeps saying to Addison "you're worth worrying over, you're worth worrying over, you're worth worrying over…" until she thinks that Addison is starting to believe her because she's meeting Meredith in the eye and mouthing to her a short 'thank-you' because she's too shaky to even speak to her, now.

And Meredith keeps holding onto her, keeps clinging on for dear life because she knows that Addison is still hurting and she knows she's not hurting because of her this time. But she's been hurting because of her. And in some of the last times when she's seen Addison crying all alone and Addison sent her away then- she told her to 'pick a floor and I'll pick a floor because I really just need a minute away from YOU'.

So Meredith had left then, she'd left Addison crying by herself, all hurt and alone, for a reason she only found out later when someone had finally told her that Addison had once fallen pregnant with a baby belonging to Mark Sloan and that she'd aborted it without even telling him that it had happened. And Meredith feels for Addison even more than she feels for Mark in this situation.

She should feel for Mark, more. After all, she WAS his 'dirty mistress club' counterpart. But something about her being a woman and Addison being a woman and ALSO being in solidarity with Addison in the 'being hurt by our mutual Derek' sort of thing that they had once going on made Meredith feel something for Addison, then. And she's feeling something for Addison now. So she just keeps holding on to her.

  She keeps telling Addison it's okay, and that she's okay, and that she's someone worth worrying over. And eventually, Addison stops crying as loudly as she had been. And Meredith asks why the hell she's in the resident's lounge, anyhow. And Addison says she was just lost, and that she always feels lost nowadays. And Meredith looks into her eyes and she holds Addison's hand. And she sits there, with her, just holding her hand until Addison sort-of stops sobbing so hard.

   *

*

*

*

*

***** END OF CHAPTER ONE

  See the full story by clicking on these links below,

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24039004/chapters/57840982

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13576100/1/Soothe

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/880173345-soothe-1-someone-worth-worrying-over

Thanks for reading, see you all in the comments!

Shoutout to @sassyygayy @lightningmaystrike @lucy-lane-deserves-better @hannidelialanagram because you’re awesome and you write me nice reviews!!!!! :D

[hurt-care]

Okay, look, I’ve had this idea for AGES and I’ve finally written it. It’s not 18+ explicitly because of sexual content, but because it involves cannabis. So, proceed at your own discretion I guess? 

Remus/Tonks, allergies

-

Everything ached.From the balls of his feet up to the hairs of his head, every centimetre of Remus' body felt hyper-sensitive. The prospect of getting up from his seat at the kitchen table was daunting, but the soft embrace of the living room sofa was much more appealing.

Pushing down on the table with his palms, he rose to his feet with a wince and took a moment to tilt his head from side to side, stretching the tight muscles of his neck. This was always the worst part of the moon; the recovery day after. Sometimes he didn't bother getting out of bed, but that always felt like the height of laziness. So usually he pushed through it, suffering the fire-hot nerve endings of his body burning in pain as they recovered from the full moon.

His wife, Nymphadora Tonks, looked up as he hobbled out of the kitchen into the living room. She sprang to her feet, nearly tumbling head-first over the coffee table in her haste to vacate the couch.

“Hello, love!” she said cheerfully, regaining her balance. “It's all yours. I was just warming it up for you.”

He gave her a wan smile and sunk slowly down into the cushions, breathing heavily. Cautiously, she sat back down at his side and extended a hand, gently raking in through his sandy greying hair.

“How are you?” she asked softly.

He shrugged and leaned his head back.

“Sore,” he admitted. “Nauseous. Achy.”

They'd made an agreement that he'd be more transparent about the transformation side effects. He'd become so accustomed to hiding them from people that it had been difficult to acclimate to being open about it. It'd been well over a decade since he'd lived with anyone that knew about his condition. It was a little different than school because of his access to Wolfsbane, but the physical pain of the transformation remained much the same. And with age came a longer recovery time as his muscles and tendons bore the strain of thirty-odd years of monthly injury.

“You can lie down if you'd like,” Tonks said softly.

He exhaled through his nose loudly.

“No, I'm alright,” he said.

Her mouth twisted into a slight frown.

“Do you want some of that muscle rub?”

“No, Dora, it's okay. I just want to sit here with you.”

She lowered her hand from his hair and gently rubbed his neck, gradually increasing the pressure on the tight muscles. He groaned softly but did not shy away.

“Have you ever smoked a spliff?” she asked, pausing on a particularly tender spot on his shoulder.

Remus laughed softly.

“I'm a child of the 60s and 70s, Tonks. Once or twice in my life.”

“I mean, have you ever tried it for pain? Like, it's pretty popular with Muggles now and my mate Archie at the Ministry swears by it for an old spell injury.”

“Mostly I ate a lot of Sirius Black's potent brownies and listened to records,” he said, closing his eyes as she kneaded her knuckles into a knot.

“Yeah, but shit's changed a lot since then. They've figured out how to grow stuff that's helpful for pain specifically.”

“Then, no,” he said. “It's probably been fifteen years since I have. Couldn't afford it on my own and no one I was hanging about with was giving it as a handout.”

“If I had some from Archie...would you try it?” she asked.

He opened one eye and peered at her, twisting his mouth into a judgemental smirk.

“Are you doing drug deals at the Ministry, Auror Tonks?”

She batted his arm lightly.

“It's medicinal.”

“And is this an 'if' you had some or 'I do have some'?” he asked.

“There may be a spliff in my bag,” she said with a laugh.

He shrugged.

“I mean, what's the worst that could happen? I get the giggles and eat a bunch of food and then pass out. A normal Tuesday with you.”

She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek.

“Good. I bet it'll help. Archie said it's great for nausea and headaches.”

“Check and check.”

Tonks flicked her wand and summoned her satchel from the front hall. It zoomed over to her and she missed catching it, sending it flying into the couch cushions at her side. Remus snorted in amusement.

“Shut up,” she scolded playfully. “Aren't you meant to be moaning in pain or something?”

“I am positively in agony,” he said dramatically. It was an exaggeration, certainly, but not entirely removed from the truth. His lower back and hips were aching with a dull, pounding rhythm that no heat or pain potion seemed to truly remove. And these days, he tried to avoid using pain potions. Partially because of the cost of them and partially because he didn't want to rely on them and then find himself without them again someday.

Tonks found the small hand-rolled joint in her bag and pulled it out triumphantly.

“Ha! The goods, Lupin,” she said, presenting it to him.

He took it and sniffed it, wrinkling his nose. A small tickle burned with a sudden urgency and he took a sharp breath.

Ngh'TSXHT!

“Ow,” he said after the sneeze, clutching his side.

“Bless you,” she said sympathetically. “It's meant for smoking, not smelling.”

With a tap of her wand, she lit the end and took a long drag. Exhaling smoke from her nose with practiced ease, she grinned at him and passed the spliff over.

He took it to his lips and inhaled tentatively, careful not to take in too much smoke in fear of starting a coughing fit. He exhaled slowly, tasting the old familiar flavour in his mouth and feeling the tingle of his throat and sinuses as the smoke drifted back out.

“Again,” Tonks instructed and he took another drag, harder and longer this time.

His nose was burning urgently now and he felt his eyes begin to water.

“You're going red,” Tonks said, giggling.

Ehh-TSCHXHT!

Remus sneezed urgently, shielding his nose with the back of his wrist.

“Ugh, fuck,” he groaned, rubbing his nose with his palm.

Ngh'tSCHHT!

Tonks carefully took the joint from his grasp and extinguished it.

“Remus?” she said, worried.

Ehh—nhh-TSGHHT!

His eyes were starting to swell and stream with tears.

“What the hell?” she said, leaning over to the end table to grab the box of tissues. “Here.”

She shoved a handful into his grip and he pressed them to his nose in time to catch another sneeze.

Ehh-GSHHHT!

He kept the tissues clamped to his nose and his itchy eyes shut.

“Remus?” she repeated, reaching over to push his hair out of his face. “Had this happened before?”

“No,” he growled from tissues. “But...hehh—hold on—ehh—ehh'tSGHHT!”

He erupted into an itchy fit of sneezes that tumbled out with frightening speed.

Eh-TSCH! TsgHGHHT! Ngh'TSCHH! TS'CHHTT! Ehhh..hehhTSGHHT!

Tonks watched in horror and then stumbled to her feet.

“Hold on, I'm going to find you an allergy potion.”

He sat on the couch battling the burning itch that threatened more sneezing while Tonks rattled through the medicine chest. There as a loud crash as she evidently dropped a potion bottle, followed by the sound of her cursing and then repairing it with magic. She reappeared a moment later with a bottle in hand.

“Here we go,” she said, sitting back at his side. He tentatively removed the tissues from his face and sniffled damply.

“Just a sip,” she instructed, tipping the bottle to his lips. He took a greedy swig, eager to soothe his itchy and parched throat.

“There,” she said, corking the bottle with its stopper. “It should only be a moment.”

As quickly as the attack came on, it began to fade. The redness in his eyes faded and the swelling of his nose and eyelids lessened.

Utterly exhausted, Remus keeled over sideways with his head landing on her lap and his legs stretching out along the rest of the sofa. She raked her fingers through his hair and muttered endless apologies.

“I didn't have any idea anyone could be allergic to a spliff,” she said. “I mean, I would have never...you just started sneezing and I was like 'oh my god his poor muscles' and then it kept going and-”

“Tonks,” he rasped, cutting her off. “It's okay. Please.”

“But-”

“You were trying to help. I should've realized that I'm much more sensitive to smells around this time. Sirius smoking cigarettes in the house back in the day used to set me off the same way. And then there's the hayfever...Christ, that's the worst.”

“I'm so sorry, love,” she said, leaning over to kiss the top of his head where it rested in her lap. “Feel better now?”

“Almost,” he said. “Still just a bit itch—hehh....ehh-TSCHHT!”

He shook suddenly in her lap, convulsing with a sneeze.

“Oh Merlin, bless you,” she cried, taking a tissue and dabbing at his nose.

He laughed softly.

“It's alright,” he reassured her. “I do feel a little...I don't know...looser maybe? Next time we'll try making brownies instead. I think Sirius had the right idea.”

She stroked his cheek affectionately.

“Alright. Go to sleep, love.”

He closed his eyes, drifting off as she massaged circles into his scalp.

[k-waza]

Do you have the time to listen to me whine

Self doubt is something that has badly plagued me throughout my whole life. No matter what Job I got, no matter what job I did, even if I did it well, there was this constant, nagging, neverending dread that if I screw up I'll get fired and or "disposed of"

I once had a job as a School Age Program assistant and worked with kids. I have a natural talent for being nurturing and many people say that I'm really good with kids.

I was privileged to have such good co-workers and good superiors to help guide me and make me a better SAP assistant. I DID mess up a time or two, but instead of yelling at me, belittling me, or shaming me, I had supervisors and senpais (seniors) who would simply ask me "What do I think I need to do to fix the situation and prevent it from happening again". . as a result I got really REALLY good at doing my job.

Even though I had understanding, supportive superiors at my job I remember one time I screwed up on the job, I was a lot harder on myself than my boss was. I actually cried a little in front of the kids, but being macho I tried to play it off as an allergy attack. But even though I tried to play it off, even the kids were aware that I was crying a little.  

One base aspect of my personality is that I have a fear of being "Disposed" of. Thrown away.

Fast forward like 10 years later, I'm living with my aunt. I work as a minimum wage security guard making only 450$ every two weeks. My aunt is stingy with the food so I have to spend the majority of my money eating out. I don't have a car so any groceries I can carry while riding a bike would have to do.

After 4 months of living with my aunt, I caught wind of her saying that she wanted to drop me off at a homeless shelter. Not call any other relatives that I could live with, just dispose of me because I had to rely on her.

It was those thoughts that went through my head the day of the accident as I rode my bicycle to work that morning.

I thought to myself "If I die, everyone will be happy." -"I finally would have done something right with my life, nobody will have to worry about taking care of me or having me rely on them anymore."

"They'll be proud of me if I take the initiative and take my own life."

But then I heard a voice in my head that said "Don't do it"

The voice said "The people in your family may be unreliable, selfish, self-serving, insensitive, miserly, and callous, but they are NOT so sadistic as to actually take pleasure in the loss of one of their own."

"DON'T DO IT"

"Look at this beautiful sunrise as the sun gently climbs over the trees. . .it is the start of a new day. Each start of a new day brings potential of doing something great. As long as you get to see a new morning, you have the power to do something good and make improvements. . ."

At that moment I felt less sad. I felt a feeling of hope swell up inside me as I was inspired by that Rising Shine. . . . .

Then everything went black. I was hit by a truck and instantly renderd unconscious.

I don't remember the moment of impact.

As I was blacked out, I thought to myself "Shit, Please do not tell me that I DREAMT waking up, getting ready for work and riding my bike halfway to the bus stop!"

"I gotta wake up! I hit the snooze button twice already!"

I opened my eyes and I was on my back on the ground looking up at a darkened sky. Someone told me "Don't move, you were hit by a truck, we've called an ambulance!"

And then I thought to myself" Oh. . . .wait a minute. . .that means I get the day off of work today! WHOO HOO!" I was completely unaware that the lower half of my body was completely shattered.

The pain didn't kick in until after I regained consciousness again in the hospital. Ever try doing the splits when you're not flexible? Well imagine that pain, but your legs, spine and pelvis are twisted 1080 degrees.

I was in so much pain that time I UNIRONICALLY believed that I died, went to hell and I was on a torture rack thinking to myself "Even GOD thinks I'm not good enough!" (I was blind at the time I couldn't open my eyes or see anything)

Long story short, I'm still alive, and self doubt haunts me to this day. Not as badly but I've learned how to manage it a little better.

[mhagnolia]

reminisced my middle school years a little today. spent time with my cousins, on a blanket, outside, in the warm afternoon. we left around nine o’clock. it was really fun and whenever i’m having fun or not having fun though i’m supposed to be having fun, i always remember my middle school years. it was amplified today.

spending time with people can make me anxious. i’ve had about four total anxiety attacks in my life i can clearly classify and remember.

1. the night before my flight back to new jersey. we had finished dinner at a hotpot restaurant in san jose and started the long journey back to hercules. at a point, i think from allergies, from the long car ride home, and the messy fear of returning to new jersey, i started to silently cry and lose breath while my cousins slept around me. maybe i convinced myself to believe i was losing breath, i don’t know. but it was just weird; i remember placing a hand in front of my mouth to make sure i was breathing. responses from my cousins were simple and i was mostly unaffected once we got home, but an uncomfortableness will always cloud this memory. i cried, why? because i didn’t want to go back home? because i was afraid to returning to a me i didn’t like? i only know that i cried silently.

2. on the night of my fifteenth birthday we walked what seemed like fifty blocks, from 10th to 60th. the subways were closing for the night and people were going home. towards the end of our trek, we got onto an uptown train full of people. i sat in the back left corner and froze up, numb and unmoving. my mom was concerned but i assured her nothing was wrong, i was just anxious. we walked for a long time. i had gotten an anxiety attack on my birthday. many things made it another day that mushed into my heart as ‘hopeless days.’ this is when i fully understood what a anxiety attack was.

2.1 that night, i slept and i had the strangest dream. in my dreams i felt suffocated. 

3. after coming back home from a long day in the city with my friends for a project, i felt drained. really drained. the most emotionally disturbed i had been in a long time. sophomore year started with an optimistic onset but things progressively became worse. i felt pressured to complete a school project, angry because i was feeling pressured (i felt like an academic failure), slightly unseen because my favorite place was demeaned to tourist locations and fast food stops, a terrible friend because i couldn’t enjoy the trip, and most of all like a victim because of my anxiety. then i felt like a fraud when my mom didn’t hug me fully. it was hard that night. i was tired and felt humiliated. i felt like i was no longer a victim, like always. my parents did not say this that night, or maybe they did, but in my memory, these moments sound together. “it will continue to get harder.” “you have to keep going.” this is one of the instances where i realized i completely lacked emotional support in my life. i think my dad even scoffed at me.

4. i lost my pencil case, was left alone, and i cracked my phone. i suspected i would cry about the pencil case but the day i did, i didn’t. the next day, when i had to confront the uneasy conversation of it and the rest of the day, i didn’t cry. my dad parked on the single hill lot and let me off. he went to go somewhere i don’t know. i’ve always told myself this was one of the things i didn’t like that he did—letting me go to the door by myself—because i internally wanted to go with him? is this true? could i really want the person who has hurt me most in my life so far to walk with me to the door? i didn’t make it to the front steps before my phone slipped off my orchestra binder and cracked. i, however, did make it to the living room before i started crying. my dad had probably dropped me off at 3:30. i violently sobbed and laid numb on the living room floor, desperate for something, for maybe an hour. i wished all the pain that had happened to me would just disappear for once. i noticed the clock approaching 4:30 and i expected my mom to see me done, on the floor. i’ve had spells like this; where i’ve screamed and thrown up. i’m sure they were amplified by my period, but this time i didn’t get my period. this time i couldn’t move my legs. this time i was laughing, like a psycho. like a real f*cking psycho. i was scaring myself. when my mom came in i wasn’t surprised nor relieved. i didn’t believe things would be fixed. they hadn’t ever been before. and i was right. i told my mom, i shared the name [avoidant] but nothing has happened since. that afternoon was lost. it came up one night recently, when my sister accused me for being careless with my cracked phone. it’s true, i was irresponsible with it, but i defended myself, by saying i didn’t take it lightly. i laughed lightly, saying that i was really sad about it. my mom laughed, too, and said that day, she remembered. she said i was mad about the world. when i think about this, i see glimpses of how misunderstood i will be for the rest of my life. i don’t think i have ever been mad at the world in the way my mom claimed. but i did ask, why me? why do i have to go through what i have? to me, that’s progress; being that much self-important, to ask the world “why?”, that’s incredible progress. i realize i don’t have the emotional support of my mom. and i forgive her for it.

i can’t forget these moments. when i’ve been hopeless and felt undeniably empty. all of these sprout from my messy history with mental illness and they’re embarrassing and uncomfortable but they’re mine.

my mom loves me. maybe not in the way i need to fix this but that’s okay. she can’t possibly do everything. i will fix this for her and never let her know what she wasn’t able to give me. i forgive her because she has given me everything until now. i know she can be and is mad at me for feeling these ways and that’s okay. someone can be devoid of emotional support, like me, while still appreciating the support that is given in the infinitely many other ways. i’m okay with my mom never knowing this side of me. i never want her to feel like she could’ve done better or that she made a mistake. because she has done almost perfectly up until this point, and that’s all i could hope for. i wish she could stop pushing herself too hard, though. it hurts me, too, not just her and her health.

emotional negligence, emotional abuse, there’s a lot to unpack concerning my mental health. my pediatrician said that seeing a therapist when your at your high is much better than at your low. i said i was okay, i think i am. maybe i do need help. but i’m not ready for that. it would help, a lot, but i don’t know if i can see the path towards that destination. 

i don’t think i’ve ever wanted to kill myself. but songs, words, they’re so familiar. i’m longing for the day when i can go out, go to a beautiful bridge for a night and contemplate. i don’t think i’ll ever jump because i think life is still very beautiful and hopeful, but i’m still not comfortable with my identity. i think being alone and anonymous for night is something very comforting.

[ecotone99]

[HR] Mamy

“Hun,” said Mamy, “I know they taste yicky, but you have to eat them. They’ll make you better.”

“I know, Mamy. I’m tryin.”

“Try harder baby. We want you to get better.”

I hate it when Mamy calls me baby. It makes me feel like a helpless infant. Like a baby born too soon. The tubes coming out of my body like life-lines, and the knowledge that my chance of survival to adulthood is slim. All I wanted to do is be able to get up, move around, maybe take a shower. It had been so long since I’d been able to have one of those. Even then, though, it's not like the showers movie stars get to have on the hospital TV. I would have to have been carefully watched by nurses to make sure I didn’t fall while I was in the middle of shampooing my thin, scraggly hair. I looked back up at Mamy’s tired face, the face that wants the best for me.

“Mamy, I don’t think I’ll ever get better.” The sudden silence made the labor of my breathing audible.

“Sure you will, sweetie,” she said softly. But behind her eyes there was the pain of knowing that I will never leave the hospital.

Mamy got up and left the room. When she leaves the doctors always swarm me. I could already hear a pair of black shiny shoes clip clopping down the gleamingly sanitized hallway to my single room. The doctor entered. He’s tired. It seemed as if he has seen everything bad the world has to offer. The shrieks echoing down the halls confirmed that daily. He picked up my chart, and scanned the gibberish written by nurses rushing throughout the morning. In a split second I made up my mind to ask him for what I want. “Doctor, could I take a shower today?” I blurted out. He regarded me with a strange look on his face. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly open in a sort of startled animal fashion. He asked me to repeat myself. “A shower. Can I take a shower?” “No. You have just had a very tiring visit from your mother.” “Mamy doesn’t tire me out. She makes me happy.” “Well, sometimes emotions can make a person tired. Especially a child as sick as you.” He said with a curious look in his eyes, as though he were struggling to convey pity. “I’m not a child. I’m 14 years old.” “I know. I’ve watched you grow up, but if you ever want to take a step outside this hospital wing, you’ll heed my advice.” “Ok. I understand that. But I rest so much, why can’t Mamy come visit more?” “Well,” he said tentatively, “the other doctors and I believe that the more time you spend with your mother, the sicker you seem to become.” “What do you mean?” I cried. “It’s probably nothing, but we’re just trying to make sure, that when your mother comes and visits you, she is not bringing anything from the outside that could harm you.” “Like what?” “Maybe germs that have been overlooked in our decontamination process, something that she brought that you might be allergic too, or something that she feeds you that is making you feel ill. Don’t be alarmed, like I said, it’s probably nothing. We just want to see if your condition improves without her here and test a few things in your room. As soon as that is over she will be able to come right back. Ok?” “Ok. Do you promise?” “I promise. You can trust me.” As the doctor left, a silent young nurse drifted into the room, and slipped a new IV into the crook of my arm, not making eye contact with me the entire time. It’s like she was afraid to look into the face of someone who was dying. Why become a nurse if you can’t deal with the truth that people are going to die, and that that is the truth of life? Sometimes I wished that I could just go ahead and die already. I was barely alive as it was. I’d be able to get up and take a few steps one day, and then the next, the doctors would have to induce a coma, because I was in so much pain. The timid nurse left without telling me what was flowing through my veins. I looked around the room and out into the hallway. No approaching shadows, no padding of doctors’ shoes on the tile floor, but no screams either. I should be safe but I have to be quick. I swiped my chart from the foot of my bed, a move that required a good part of my already low energy. At the bottom, quickly scribbled in messy handwriting: “3:30 p.m., patient was administered 10 mg/mL of propofol solution.” Great. Propofol. They’re knocking me out again. No reason to fight it, though. If I took it out of my arm, again, the doctors were just going to come in the room and stick me with needles full of harsh liquid that’ll knock me out immediately. I didn’t think it was worth all that trouble. They were probably just going to do some tests while I was out cold and wake me up again when they still couldn’t tell me what was wrong. I mean I trusted all the doctors. They’d kept me alive for this long, but I was born in this hospital, and hadn’t ever been able to go outside, barely even looked at the world through a nose-printed window in a room down the hallway. I guess they installed it for all us terminally ill kids to go to when we realized how miserable we are.

My eyelids started to get a bit droopy, heavy like weighted blankets. My body slipped deeper into sleep. I woke up. Judging by the dimmed lights in the hallway, it was near dusk. They had taken a touch of the harshness out of the bulbs, in a feeble attempt to get us to sleep better.

My throat felt like I’d swallowed broken glass. My stomach felt flipped upside down, like I’d just had the stomach bug. I’d only had the stomach bug once. It was terrible, although I thought it was worse for Mamy. Not that she’d been sick also, she was just so worried that she was going to lose me. She said that’s how Brother died. Mamy didn’t talk about Brother often.

Anyway, my stomach was killing me. I wanted to know what they did to me. I punched the help button a few times, until the same doctor from earlier came striding over in his squeaky black shoes. The sound made my mind twist as much as my stomach was.

“What’d you guys do to me?” I asked in a hoarse whisper. “Well,” he said with a pensive expression on his face that was somehow contorted by effort, “we put you under to do some tests, as we know the more extreme ones give you the heebie-jeebies, and just as we are about to start you had a full-blown allergy attack.”

He leaned back on a table with his arms on each side to brace himself and let out a sigh.

“What I am allergic to?” I asked “Well we believe it was whatever your Mamy fed you when she came to visit. We had to pump your stomach so you’d survive.” “Mamy only gave me the same vitamins she gives me every week. I’ve never gotten sick before.” “Well, you actually have.” “What?” I screeched. I couldn’t believe what he was telling me. He couldn’t be telling the truth. Mamy only wanted to help me get better. “Yes, last week we had to do the same thing, about an hour after your Mamy left we put you under, and whatever she fed you got into your system and caused an allergic reaction. What’s worse,” he said, “is that we told her not to bring them again, that they would kill you, but she did anyway.” “Why?” I asked, slowly beginning to cry, not knowing who to trust anymore. “We think she has been trying to slowly poison you. Whenever you see her you end up sick. Isn’t that right?” “Well, yes.” I said, “But I thought it was just an after-effect from over-stimulation, or the medicine, or anything but my Mamy.” “Well I hate to be the one to tell you this, although you’ve probably figured it out by now, but we can’t let you see your mother until a formal investigation has been conducted.” “No!” I started thrashing, and trying to get up from the bed. I screaming unintelligibly, feeling like I was losing my mind. The doctor shouted for the nurses. I heard the click-clack of a group of nurses running down the hall towards my room. I knew I was in for it. Each nurse grabbed a strap like the ones they use to tie down mental patients on fake hospital TV shows. They tied my legs, arms, and torso to the bed, too tight for comfort, too tight for movement. They decided to leave me tied there as a punishment while the nurses tended to the doctor. Apparently I had bitten him during the ordeal, and now he was basking in all the attention of his beautiful colleagues. I was lying restrained, alone, in my room, with the lights off, the hallway light gradually growing dimmer, when I heared more squeaks. This time though it was not a doctor, a nurse or even Mamy. It was a teenage girl. She couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than me. She was hooked up to a rolling IV rack, the source of the squeaking. She was tall, but horrifyingly gaunt. In her bony, bluish hand she held a piece of paper. It seemed as if she were clutching it for dear life as she came towards me. She looked around before entering my room, checking for doctors and nurses. The girl dragged herself right up next to me. She looked stern, but for some reason I wasn’t afraid of her. In her eyes, I could see kindness. She thrusted her long skeletal arm toward me. “From Mamy,” she said weakly. Without another word she dragged herself back out of the room, down the dim hallway, and out of sight. I uncrumpled the paper she had handed me. At first, in the dark, I couldn’t make out what it said. The more I stared at it though, the more the words started to reveal themselves to me.

Oh Baby, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you this sooner. I have to prepare you. This might sting a little honey. You’re not sick. Your brother was not sick either. It’s the doctor’s who are sick, sick in the mind. Your entire life, they have been giving you drugs you don’t need, that actually do make you sick. They did the same to your brother.

The day you were born, they whisked you away from me. They put you straight in the NICU. How foolish of me it was to trust them again. They had tubes and wires coming out of you every place they thought they could stick em. They made an appeal to the state. They said that you needed around the clock care, that you were sickly and if you didn’t get their treatment you would die in a few weeks. Of course the state believe them, they are doctors of course. They told me it would be illegal for me to take you out of the hospital, and that it would be child abuse if I took you time, because of course you would die if I did so. I had no choice I had to leave you with them. So I devised a plan. I was not just going to sit back and watch like when they did this to your brother. I was going to do something about it. So, I made your vitamins. They truly contain only two ingredients, charcoal and morphine. The charcoal to force you to throw up whatever rubbish they have put in your body, and the morphine to knock you out and numb the pain. I think they have finally found a way to use this against me and prove it in court, so I will probably be arrested soon for giving you medicine against your doctor’s orders. Here is where you need to listen. I know you’re not a baby anymore and that’s why I believe you can do this. For the next few days, play dumb, play sick, do whatever it takes to convince the doctors that you are on their side. Act as weak as you can so that they think their poisons are working. Build up your strength. When you think you are strong enough, hide some rations in your hospital gown and run. run. Run. RUN. Go through the doors at the end of your hallway. Don’t turn around to look at the front of the building. I can assure you, you are not at the hospital anymore. All you’ll see is a sign for an old broken down experimental human laboratory. You need to run as fast as you can. Run through the woods to the street about a mile on the other side. Across that street is a Church. I have given the pastor the next steps. Get to him and you will be safe. I hope to see you again baby, but I can’t promise anything. Make me proud. Love, Mamy

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