#I really wish I could do what I’m supposed to

[capquinn]

All these dad prompts make me feel like Quinn would be an absolute anxious disaster during the birth. That sick and hunted look he has would be 10x worse and he’s so stressed about it all but he’s trying his best not to let it show he’s on the struggle bus

Quinn had thought he was prepared for this. He’d sat beside you through every birthing class, nodded along and mirrored the breathing techniques beside you, letting his breaths slow and deepen, practicing the rhythm as if it were second nature. Watched each demonstration with a sharp focus, absorbing every detail with the kind of intensity he usually reserved for studying game footage or taking on board tips from his trainers during practice. Read every pamphlet the nurses handed him, listened intently to every “what to expect” rundown, convinced he had it under control. He’d even practiced encouraging phrases under his breath, murmuring, “you’re doing amazing,” and “I’m right here,” into the steering wheel on drives home from the rink, feeling almost silly but sure it would come naturally when the moment arrived. By the time the classes were over, he’d convinced himself he’d be steady, grounded — the calm, unshakable support you’d need. That he had this birthing partner thing down.

But now, here in the birthing suite, as the hours tick by and he watches you grit your teeth through each contraction, he’s realising just how far out of his depth he really is.

He’s trying so hard to keep it together, but the look on his face betrays him. His brow is furrowed, his eyes wide and anxious, the usual steadiness in his gaze shaken, a stark contrast to the steady, level-headed man you know so well. Every time you squeeze his hand, he squeezes back a little too hard, like he needs the reassurance just as much as you do. You’ve rarely seen him like this — he’s usually the calm one, the one with a logical plan and a steady hand, the one who grounds you when things get shaky. And when he catches sight of the monitor tracking your contractions, his heart rate seems to spike right along with it, his hand twitching in yours as he glances between the screen and you, desperately wishing he could take on some of the pain for you.

“You’re doing amazing, baby,” he whispers, but his voice is shaky, and you can feel his fingers trembling as they grip yours.

He wipes a hand over his brow, and as you watch the tension in his jaw and the way his eyes dart to the monitor, to you and to the nurse who slips in and out of the room, you realise just how deeply he’s feeling every moment with you.

“Is this… Is this how it’s supposed to be?” he asks quietly, mostly to himself, glancing at you with a flash of uncertainty.

“Yes, Quinn,” you manage to say, breathless but amused, catching his worried gaze. “This is… exactly how it’s supposed to be.”

He nods, swallowing hard, looking like he’s trying to believe you. He brushes your hair back, but his hand hovers awkwardly, unsure of what to do next.

“Right. Okay. I just… I just want to make sure.”

In a small way, it’s oddly comforting, seeing him like this, knowing he’s right there with you, heart and soul, even if his calm is nowhere to be found.

The next contraction hits, and you squeeze his hand, eyes shutting tight, your breath ragged as you try to breathe through it. His own breath catches, his face twisting in sympathy, helpless to do anything but sit there.

“You’ve got this, alright? I’m right here,” he says, even though his voice cracks on the last word.

Every grimace of pain on your face feels like a punch to his gut, and he’s trying, he’s trying so hard to stay calm for you, but he looks like he’s barely holding it together.

As the hours drag on with slow, steady progress, his anxiety builds, tightening around him like a vice. He’s watched you suffer through every contraction, seen every grimace of pain, and he feels like he’s watching it all in slow motion. He’s tried to stay still, to keep calm, but he finds himself pacing the room between contractions, hands running through his hair and rubbing the tension in the back of his neck, glancing nervously at the nurses as if silently asking them to make it stop, to make it go faster.

But then you call his name, reaching out for him, and he’s right back at your side, forcing himself to smile, to be the rock you need, even as he feels like he’s on the verge of falling apart.

“Quinn, I need…,” you manage during one particularly strong contraction, your voice strained as you reach for him.

“I’m here,” he says immediately, his hand wrapping tightly around yours, his forehead pressed to yours. “You’re incredible, you know that? I swear you’re…” He trails off, his voice choked with awe and helplessness.

When the nurse finally tells you it’s time to push, Quinn’s anxiety vanishes in a strange rush of clarity. His heart hammers, but there’s a renewed focus in his eyes, a sense of purpose that drives him to lean in closer, gripping your hand with both of his.

This is it. The goal line is right there, within reach, and he’s desperate to see you out of pain, to help you push through this final stretch, and to finally meet his daughter.

“You’re so close, baby,” he whispers, his voice steady, full of admiration. “Just a little more, you’ve got this.”

He can feel his own breaths syncing with yours, each push you give pulling him further into the moment, all his nerves tightening in anticipation. He’s all in, holding your hand as though it’s his own lifeline, whispering encouragements, brushing your damp hair back with a tenderness that anchors both of you to reality.

Then the midwife announces that the baby’s head is crowning, and something in Quinn’s mind stirs with a fierce curiosity. He’s seen his fair share of bruises and blood on the ice, the broken noses and stitches that come with the game. He thinks he can handle a glimpse. Just a quick look.

“Hang on,” he murmurs, his hand dropping to your knee as he takes a cautious step, assuring you he’s not going far.

But the moment he glances down, the world tilts.

The sight is… intense. Far more visceral than anything he’s witnessed, even in the grittiest post-game injuries. He feels his stomach lurch, his mouth going dry, and his face loses all colour. His eyes widen, shock and something close to horror flickering across his face as he stares, caught in the gruesome reality. But he can’t look away — he’s frozen, like a deer in the headlights, eyes glued to the scene before him, his grip on your knee suddenly slack.

You catch sight of him, his face ashen and eyes haunted, and despite everything — the pain, the exhaustion — a breathless laugh escapes you. Reaching up, you tug at his shirt, snapping him out of his daze.

“Quinn,” you manage, your voice weak but filled with humour. “Don’t you dare faint on me.”

He blinks, startled, and shakes his head, stumbling back to your side with a sheepish look. “No, no, I’m good,” he mumbles, forcing a smile, though he still looks a little shaken. “Just… whoa.”

He squeezes your hand tighter, lifting it to press a lingering kiss against your knuckles, then another to the inside of your wrist, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s a quiet reverence in his gaze, something deep and unspoken that he’s trying to pour into every touch, every gentle kiss. His thumb strokes over your hand, slow and steady, grounding you in this last moment of stillness before everything changes.

Then he leans in, brushing his lips to your forehead, holding them there a beat longer, and you close your eyes, letting yourself melt into the warmth of his presence. You can feel the slight tremble in his fingers, but the love in his touch is steady, unwavering, a promise he’s making with every gentle press of his lips.

“Almost there,” he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with awe, like he’s seeing you in an entirely new light. “We’re so close. She’s nearly here.”

His forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours as you both soak in this precious moment — your last as just the two of you.

And as the nurse announces it’s time for the final push, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his hand never leaving yours. You give him a small, tired smile, your heart swelling at the thought that, in mere moments, you’ll both meet the tiny person you created together, and be a family of three.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

requests are open - let’s daydream!

[flipppyflopp]

“No sleeping in, not even on my birthday. There’s too much to get done to waste the day in bed.” 🎉✨

Happy birthday to my twst oc, Arlen Nox! I decided to do my spin on the new birthday card theme for Arlen even though they haven’t released a Diasomnia character yet, so Arlen might not match Silver and the others when they come out. Trey and Floyd were big inspirations for Arlen’s card from his to his pajamas. Specifically for his pajamas I wanted to incorporate Kingdom Hearts elements since Arlen’s main inspiration is Riku, so I tied in some dream eater references.

If you swipe you can see how Arlen spent part of his birthday as well as what presents he received from his friends. Below you can read Arlen’s birthday vignette written in a similar style to the new birthday vignettes, which guest stars the character voted as Arlen’s duo partner on Instagram…Silver! I hope you all enjoy and if you have any questions about Arlen, feel free to leave them in my inbox! ✨

.✨✨✨.

Arlen: Alright, I should be able to take these back to my room before track practice.

Arlen: Wait a second…who’s that lying on the ground up ahead? Are they hurt?

Arlen: Oh, it’s just Silver. I don’t have time to waste…but I hate to leave him in case he’s in a hurry to get somewhere too.

Arlen: Silver? Wake up, Silver. Now’s not the time to be napping. Silver! SILVER!

Silver: Huh? What? Oh, Arlen, it’s you.

Arlen: Yeah, sorry about yelling in your ear. You were sleeping pretty soundly.

Silver: Sorry for the trouble I caused. I appreciate you taking the time to wake me up.

Arlen: It’s fine. I was just on my way back from the post office and saw you laying there on the side of the path.

Silver: Post office? Not many students go there with all the technology available today.

Arlen: Unfortunately, I’m not the best with technology, so I go there quite frequently. Today, I was picking up a card my stepparents sent me.

Silver: A card? Were they congratulating you about your performance in the recent track meet?

Arlen: No, they sent me a birthday card.

Silver: Birthday? I’m terribly sorry if I missed it. Happy-

Arlen: Slow down, Silver, my birthday’s not until tomorrow.

Silver: Really? I apologize for getting ahead of myself.

Arlen: Quit apologizing, birthdays aren’t a big deal anyways. Just another day of the year.

Silver: Oh? Are you not a fan of big celebrations on your birthday?

Arlen: Not really? I don’t know, I just don’t understand the need to get so worked up about them. All you’re doing is getting older, what’s there to really celebrate?

Silver: Hmm. I suppose people just like to celebrate that you lived another year, uplifting your growth and the memories you made in that short span of time.

Arlen: Sounds about right, I guess. The best part’s getting to eat cake.

Silver: Really? I thought you weren’t a fan of sweets?

Arlen: Just ice cream, it’s way too sugary for my tastes. I enjoy cakes and pies just fine.

Silver: That explains Malleus’s initial reaction to you…

Arlen: Huh?

Silver: It’s nothing, just…hold on a moment, I just got a text from Sebek.

Silver: Oh no, I was asleep longer than I thought. I must be getting to the Equestrian Club. Farewell, Arlen!

Arlen: Bye, Silver.

Arlen: Guess I’d better hurry on myself. Chatting with Silver’s nice, but I can’t be late to practice or else I’ll have to run extra laps.

.✨✨✨.

Arlen: There’s nothing like a hot shower after practice.

Arlen: Speaking of practice, I need to write down my new personal best. Can’t believe I managed to shave off four seconds today. Maybe it’s some early birthday luck.

Arlen: The next track meet isn’t for another month, so I’ve got plenty of time to cut down more time off my personal best. I wish I could shave off some more time from our relay record, it could definitely use some improvement.

Arlen: Competing individually comes easier to me than competing as a group. When it’s just me, I only have to worry about myself. When I’m competing with others, I not only worry about myself, but I have to worry about the other guys as well. It’s a lot of trusting one another, which doesn’t come easily…especially in a school like Night Raven College.

Arlen: Luckily, Jack and Deuce handle their share of the relay just fine. Although, I wonder if by becoming closer it would shave off time for our relay….hmmm. Maybe I’ll treat them to dinner tomorrow after practice, they’d enjoy that.

*Bzzt*

Arlen: My phone? Who could that be? Oh, Soren wants to FaceTime. Sure for just a couple minutes.

Soren: ARLEN! What took you so long? It took you like three rings instead of two! What-

Arlen: Slow down, Soren. I just got back from showering after practice. I’m a bit sore today.

Soren: Oh, I see! Must be trying to beat my time from the track meet last week.

Arlen: Yeah right, you’re the one trying to catch up to me. Speaking of which, you’re going to have to work harder, I just shaved off four more seconds.

Soren: WAIT WHAT?! YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME! Kai won’t believe me when I tell him tomorrow.

Arlen: I could always send you a picture of my time as proof.

Soren: Ha ha, very funny. Laugh it up while you can, you’ll be eating my dust soon enough.

Arlen: As if.

Soren: Oh let me tell you what happened in class today! So I was sitting with Neige…

*Time Passes*

Soren: I couldn’t believe it when Chenya came out of alchemy lab with bright green hands.

Arlen: Well that’s what you get when you mix aloe and pixie dust.

*Knock*

Lilia: Arlen, it’s past lights out. Off to bed with you.

Arlen: My bad!

Arlen: Sorry, Soren, we’ll have to talk later.

Soren: That’s fine. But before you go, I’ve got one last thing to say to you.

Arlen: What?

Soren: Happy birthday, Arlen!

*Click*

Arlen: Huh? Is it really-

Arlen: We talked for that long!? So that’s why he kept flying through topics, just to get to midnight.

Arlen: Wait…

Arlen: Why was Lilia doing lights out checks so late!? What was he doing?!

Arlen: No use wasting time thinking about that. I’ve got to get to bed so I can get up early.

.✨✨✨.

Arlen: Time to start the day. It’s nice waking up early because the dorm bathroom is completely empty. Most people don’t get up at the crack of dawn like I do. Sometimes I run into Sebek or Malleus, which is quite the jump scare as Idia would say.

Arlen: Alright, quick shower then it’s time to head out.

Arlen: I don’t spend too much time on my appearance. Just combing my hair, brushing my teeth, the usual. No point spending extra time when it’ll just get messy from the wind later.

Arlen: Some guys go all out with makeup and hair products, but that’s just not my thing. Just some lotion will do just fine. Dry skin gets on my last nerve.

Arlen: Alright, next on my morning routine. Time to go get the feed from my room. I like being outside early, it’s a good way to clear my head. I feed the animals around the dorm while I’m at, might as well since I’m already out.

Arlen: I can see the birds waiting up in the rafters of the courtyard. They always wait up there, never getting close till I put the feed out…I hope they’ll grow to like me some day. Animals just don’t seem to like me, I get it though.

Arlen: Hmm?

Arlen: A little sparrow is hopping right in front of me? Want something to eat little guy?

Arlen: Huh? Another bird’s come down? A rabbit too? I haven’t even put down any food yet!?

???: Getting along with the animals, Arlen?

Arlen: Silver! That explains why the animals got closer than normal.

Silver: I’m sure they’re just finally coming around to you.

Arlen: As if.

Silver: You just gotta have more confidence in yourself. The animals can tell you’re nervous. Here.

Arlen: Huh? What are you doing with that bird? Silver, wait-

Silver: Just put your hand out like so and the bird will have a nice place to sit. Perfect.

Arlen: Silver, take it back before I hurt-

Silver: You’re fine, just breathe. See? It’s okay.

Arlen: …

Silver: Arlen? I’m sorry if I rushed you into-

Arlen: So what are you doing up so early? Doesn’t a sleepyhead like you snooze through the morning.

Silver: Usually, yes, but I had something important this morning.

Arlen: Really?

Silver: Arlen, happy birthday.

Arlen: Huh? Ha…ha ha ha!

Silver: What’s so funny?

Arlen: Something important? It’s just my birthday. You said that like it was the secret to saving the world from darkness or something.

Silver: It’s important to me. I wanted you to know your birthday mattered to me, so much so I wanted to be the first to say it.

Arlen: Really? That’s…really kind of you. Thank you, Silver.

Silver: You’re welcome, Arlen. I hope you don’t think that’s all I prepared, I also made some coffee cake in the kitchen for breakfast.

Arlen: Pulling out all the stops aren’t you.

Silver: Of course for a friend like you.

[suroweczka]

Love Potion (reader x Zoro)

Summary: You and Zoro share a quiet night out drinking, both secretly harbouring feelings for each other. That’s until you order a cocktail with a striking name, claiming to make people speak up about their feelings…

female reader in mind

I think it’s a fluff or something (??) Nothing not really explicit anyway. Might write a smut continuation in 50 years though because why not 😌💅🏻✨

🍸🍹It was supposed to be just a night out as friends.

Everyone on the ship could see there was something more between you, but neither of you would admit that. Especially not Zoro — he could barely handle his feelings, let alone actually speak them out loud.

You picked up the menu, flipping through it casually until a certain drink caught your eye: Love Potion. The description boasted about making people spill their true feelings, claiming the cocktail had some "special" effect.

You snorted and nudged Zoro with your elbow. “Look at this,” you laughed. “A drink that makes you confess your feelings.”

Zoro’s expression twisted in amusement. “What a load of crap” he chuckled. “Any alcohol does that… If you’re a loser who doesn’t know how to drink. Which is clearly not me” He folded his arms, with a cocky smile on his face. “Oh, that’s indeed an achievement” you giggled.

“I’m tough. I don’t need to get wasted to talk about how I feel.”

You smiled at him. “They do look nice though, I think I will give it a go, would you like one too?”

“I don’t mind as long as it’s alcohol” he shrugged, leaning back with that confident, careless ease of his. That was classic Zoro; he would drink anything if it had a good kick. So, you ordered the so-called Love Potion, more as a joke than anything else.

When the drinks arrived, you took a cautious sip, but Zoro, in typical fashion, downed his in one go. 

“You didn’t mention it would be sweet” Zoro gave you a grimace of disgust.

“It’s called a Love Potion, what did you expect?” You laughed, shaking your head. 

As you were slowly sipping on your drink, you felt a subtle warmth start to spread through you, though Zoro’s reaction was even more surprising.

“Hey, (Y/N)…” He reached over, a strange glint in his eye as he locked onto you. “Did I ever tell you how pretty you are?”

You blinked, taken aback. “What? No, you haven’t…”

“I mean it,” he continued, his voice was clear. “When I first met you, it was your strength. You never backed down. Always threw yourself into the fight with no fear. Then I… started to notice other things.”

He leaned closer, his eyes wandering over your face and then down your body. “Like how hot you are” he murmured, his voice rough, almost reverent.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Where’s that coming from?”

“Just saying the truth, that’s all” he replied with a smirk.

But he wasn’t done. His hands, usually so steady with his swords, rested on your shoulders, and he was suddenly right there, his lips grazing your neck in a way that made your whole body shiver. His breath was warm, his mouth soft yet unrelenting, as he kissed down the side of your neck.

"Strong and pretty, what’s more to wish for?" he whispered to your ear, giving you chills. His hand brushing along your arm in a way that sent sparks through you. "Your courage… it’s one of the first things I noticed. But it’s more than that now" His voice grew husky. “I’d never been interested in any woman that way before.”

Your heart pounded, and the warmth from the drink seemed to blend with the heat of his words. Emboldened, you took a longer sip from your own glass, feeling that strange drink work its way through you until it gave you the courage to admit something you'd kept hidden for so long.

“When you took Luffy’s pain,” you began softly, “when you stood there after fighting Kuma without saying a word. I realised how far you’d go for Luffy, for all of us. I was in awe of your loyalty, strength… I was in awe of you, Zoro. I wanted to be someone who could stand by your side… and, I think I fell for you then.” Your words hung in the air, your face flushing with a mixture of nerves and adrenaline.

As you finished your drink, you reached out, pressing a hand to his chest. “And, I mean… have you looked at yourself?” you whispered, your voice carrying a flirtatious edge as you let your fingers slide along his defined muscles. “How could I not be into you?”

And without another word, he took your hand, pulling you toward the exit.

You never thought a drink could change everything—but in that moment, as you both tumbled onto his bed, you knew you wouldn’t be turning back.

And neither would he.

[unfortunate17]

Hi! "Are you sure everything is okay?" for the 5 sentence thingy? 💜 ive been thinking about the new fools in a fable chapter all day idk how i will ever recover

Tina!!!!! Thank you for the lovely prompt, here is…..a Wilmon!soulmate/soulmark something 😖 hope you’re somewhat satisfied haha.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?”

Wilhelm looks away, gnawing at the ragged flesh of lip. Despite Erik’s voice echoing faint and tinny over the phone, his tone is far too knowing for his liking. “Yeah,” he repeats, slamming his locker closed. “I’m fine.”

“Wille, you know I can’t help you if you never tell me anything.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” he insists, “I’m just really fucking tired.”

“Fine,” Erik sighs, sounding exasperated, “if that’s how you’re going to be, then - ”

“Then what?” Wilhelm snarls, “if I’m going to be like what, Erik?”

“If you’re going to be like this,” Erik snaps, sounding frustrated. “I just called to check up on you, Wille, you don’t need to jump down my fucking throat about it.”

“Yeah, well, what part of I’m fine do you not fucking understand?”

There’s a long moment of silence. Then, Erik scoffs. “Okay,” he huffs an annoyed laugh, “you can call me back when you’re done being a dick.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah,” Erik says coolly, “fuck you too, little brother.”

The line goes dead then, and Wilhelm has to fight against the urge to throw his phone across the hallway. Instead, he finds himself slamming a palm against the front of his locker, the metal rattling loud and sudden around him. The resulting, sharp pain makes him hiss, even if his body is still thrumming with tightly wound rage.

He blinks down at his hand for a long moment and the cheery, golden heart etched into the back of it stares back at him mockingly. What is supposed to be a promise of love and understanding has quickly turned into Wilhelm’s worst nightmare. There has to be some way to get rid of it. Wilhelm can’t spend the rest of his life looking down at it, imagining and wishing for what could have been.

The soft sound of a throat clearing behind him interrupts his spiraling, and Wilhelm spins around at once.

Sure enough, it’s Simon standing there. Because of course it is. Simon in all his beautiful, curly-haired glory, looking as though he’s been touched by the sun itself.

He’s clutching a set of notebooks to his chest, eyes wide and worried. Wilhelm can’t help the way his own gaze zeros in on the back of Simon’s hand, desperate for even a glimpse of the matching golden heart that resides there.

It’s easy to find today, peeking out from behind Simon’s deep purple sleeve.

“Hey,” Simon says. He sounds awkward, hesitant.

For a second, Wilhelm is seized with the hope that Simon has sought him out, that maybe, Simon actually wants to talk to him. He wipes his palms on the sides of his jeans. “Hi.”

They stare at each other for a moment, caught in a breathless dance of silence.

Then Simon tilts his head towards the lockers behind where Wilhelm is standing, gesturing to the books in his arms. “Sorry, could I - ?”

The hope rushes out of him so fast that Wilhelm feels woozy with the loss of it. “Yeah,” he slumps, moving over, “sorry, go ahead.”

He watches as Simon moves to his own locker, twisting the lock open with long, elegant fingers. As he slides the books in though, he hesitates, eyes flickering over to where Wilhelm is still standing there, staring. “Are you - okay?”

Wilhelm swallows, his voice coming out hoarse. “Fine.” He grits his teeth against the urge to do something pathetic. “You?”

Simon’s arm jerks as he closes his locker door, turning the lock once more. “I’m good.”

“Yeah?”

At that, Simon’s eyes narrow. The first sign of a fight. “Should I not be?”

“I don’t know,” Wilhelm scoffs, “you tell me.”

Simon makes an aborted movement, almost like he’s contemplating making a break for it. At his side, his hands turn to fists. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“What’s my problem?” Wilhelm asks incredulously. “What the fuck is your problem?” There are distress flares going off at the back of his mind now, but Wille stamps them out as quickly as they light.

“What’re you talking about?”

“I mean - I’m not - ” Wille gestures wildly between them, “I’m not the one who doesn’t want this. Us.”

Simon’s expression crumples. “Wille - ”

“No, like, it’s fine, it’s not that I - care that much. But - ” Wille laughs, the sound ringing hysterical in the empty corridor, “you’re supposed to be mine.”

Simon’s face floods with color. He looks outraged. “Don’t ever say anything like that to me again.” He turns his back to Wille, turns to the door, turns to leave him behind once more, and a panic so vicious claws its way up Wille’s chest that he can barely breathe.

“Wait,” he begs, reaching out to grip Simon’s warm shoulder. “Wait, Simon. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Simon stills, uncertain eyes flickering back to him over his shoulder.

“What I mean to say is,” Wille struggles for air. He has to get this right. It might be his last chance. “I’m yours. We - we’re a match.”

Simon is quiet for a long time. When he finally speaks, it’s only to say, “So?”

“So - we - we’re supposed to be together,” Wilhelm hopes he doesn’t sound like he’s begging but he’s not sure if it’s really working.

“Says who?”

Wille swallows tightly, tracing the soft, delicate curve of Simon’s jaw with his eyes. “I don’t understand. Did I - did I do something wrong, Simon? Is that why you don’t - want me?”

Something jolts across Simon’s face then, a raw emotion that’s gone before Wilhelm can fully catalog. Suddenly, he scrambles towards the door. “I have to go,” he tries to duck out of Wille’s grasp. “The bus is going to - “

Wille catches his wrist, tugging until Simon turns to face him, his eyes wide and wet. “Just tell me why,” Wille begs, “I’ll leave you alone after this, I promise. Simon. I’ve had this mark since I was four. I’ve been looking for you for - for - ”

“And I’ve had this mark since last Wednesday,” Simon breaks, voice loud enough to make him wince.

Wille flinches, his insides going cold. “What do you mean by that?”

“Come on, Wille,” Simon rolls his eyes. He looks angry, brows pulled together unhappily. “Your friends shit on me all the time. Your cousin shits on me all the time. And you just stand there and laugh.”

“I don’t laugh!”

Simon looks at him in deep disbelief. “Uh - yeah you do. And it’s whatever. It’s not like I expect you to stand up for me or something. We barely know each other.”

“But we could get to know each other,” Wille shoots back hotly.

“For what?” Simon lets out a breath of bitter laughter. “It’s not like you would’ve looked twice at me if it weren’t for that fucking mark.”

Wilhelm feels his mouth part in shock. He does a double take of Simon, of the lovely silhouette of his slender shoulders, his soft looking curls, his smooth, unblemished skin, the button nose, the fire that lights his dark eyes, the steel that lines his spine. “That’s not true.”

But Simon only rolls his eyes. “Wake up, Wille, we literally have nothing in common. You’re not my fucking soulmate.”

Wilhelm bites back a sharp flare of hurt. He lets go of Simon’s wrist. “Okay. Fine,” he concedes, vision blurring with tears. “Maybe I’m not your soulmate. But you’re definitely mine.“

From his pocket, his phone buzzes twice. Wilhelm shoots Simon one last smile, drinking in his sweet, wide-eyes gaze before he turns, pulling the offending device out just to give his hands something to do. Perhaps he should call Erik back now, maybe even come clean about everything.

He waits for the telltale sound of receding footsteps, but they never come. Instead, there’s a quiet shuffling, followed by a blissful line of heat pressed along his back.

Simon buries his nose in crook of his neck, and Wilhelm almost jumps out of skin from how good it feels. The heart on his hand feels like it’s singing, warm and alive.

“Alright,” Simon whispers, looping an arm around his middle. The fear in his voice is palpable. “Let’s try then. If you’re so sure.”

Wille reaches down to thread their fingers together, hearts lining up as one. He shakes his head. “Not if you don’t want to, Simon.”

“Of course I do,” Simon’s voice is very quiet, “that’s what makes it so scary.”

Wilhelm squeezes his hand tighter, too afraid to breathe. “You can trust me.”

There’s a long moment of silence, weighted in its intensity. Against him, Simon’s frame shakes. “Okay.”

Wilhelm exhales deeply, nodding. He tries his best to ignore how it sounds like Simon is lying.

[inhurtandincomfort]

A Night to Regret

CW: Kidnapping, abusive relationship

“Hey babe,” Kieran answered his phone with a grin, “Yeah, I’m on my way back now. Guess what? I’ve got a job!” 

“Really? That’s amazing!” He pulled it back from his ear as Abigail squealed, “What is it?” 

“It’s a short film, an original horror I think. I don’t know all the details, Kate said she’d email them to me first thing Monday. It’s a student film, but they’ve done quite a few popular ones.” 

“You know what this means? Celebration! We should invite Mike and Lisa, I’ll see if Cameron’s free too, and Jaysen, though I think he’s busy…”

Kieran laughed softly, “Is that really necessary? I was thinking we could just have a quiet night in, just the two of us.”  

“We do that all the time! Come on, we haven’t had a get together in ages. It’ll be fun. We’ll order pizza, and if you pick up some drinks on your way home… ooh, make sure you get some of that beer I like.”  “Since when did this become about you?” 

“I’ll pay for everything!” 

He smiled even though she couldn’t see it. “I got it, don’t worry. You order some pizzas, I’ll be home soon. I love you.” 

“Love you!”

Kieran slid his phone into his pocket, making a u-turn to head towards their favoured liquor store. He shivered, hugging himself as he walked down the quiet street. Strange, to be so quiet on a Saturday evening; it was freezing, he reasoned. It wasn’t that late, but the sun set early this time of year and a starless sky made the frigid air seem bleak. Still, deserted streets always held an eerie feeling. Though they weren’t completely empty, he only saw an occasional passerby in thick coats, scarves weaved around their faces. Man, he should have brought a scarf; his lips were probably turning blue. 

A small, childish part of him wished he had stayed talking with Abigail. Past every alley, every covered stranger, a chill crept up his spine that had nothing to do with the weather. He considered calling her back. She was probably calling their friends though. You’re worrying over nothing, he scolded himself. He was a grown-ass man, he could handle walking down a street himself, the same route he’d taken many times before. Alone. In the dark. 

Abigail kept telling him he should ask his doctor about anxiety meds. Maybe she was right. 

He was relieved when he made it to the store, offering him a brief respite. There was only one other customer who seemed to be studying two bottles intently. Kieran made his purchase, making easy small talk with the grizzled cashier trying to ignore his stomach twisting in knots.

He rubbed his hands together in an attempt to get warm, an awkward motion carrying bags of glass bottles. He hummed to himself as he walked, a cheesy romance he hoped would stave off anxious thoughts. He glanced behind. A couple of men were trailing at a steady pace, scarves concealing their faces. He turned back to face forward, his pace quickening just slightly. People are allowed to walk behind you, Kieran. He told himself firmly. Learning to face your fears is an important part of recovery. Don’t let anxiety control you. 

…But he’d also been taught to follow his instincts. What was he supposed to do when every gut feeling told him to run? 

He considered stopping to let them pass. Would that just make him seem suspicious? It would probably be weird. Home wasn’t far, he’d be there soon. A black car with tinted windows was parked up ahead. Had it ever been there before? He shook his head. Paranoid. He’s just paranoid. Lukas had always said so. It was hardly an unusual car, it’s no surprise he’d never noticed it. And people were allowed to visit.

Still, as he got closer his shoulders hunched, blood rushing in his ears. His stomach cramped, tightening painfully as every signal in his body rang wrong, wrong, wrong. Something was wrong. He halted in his tracks, willing himself to move, his body frozen as his mind raced, every alarm bell screaming go back, go back, danger danger dangerdanger-

A heavy weight slung around his shoulders drawing him in. He opened his mouth to yell, a gloved hand silencing him. Something hard pressed into his back, small and rounded and fuck, this wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening-

“Don’t make a sound,” A gruff voice whispered, a voice that didn’t sound natural. They were trying to disguise it. “Come with us quietly, and there won’t be any problems.” 

Kieran nodded numbly, his heart hammering against his chest. With a small nudge from whoever stood behind, with a gun did they have a gun please say that’s not a gun he was bundled into the black car where someone was already waiting to drive away. Two men sat either side of him, blocking every exit.

“Head down,” One commanded, shoving his head to his knees before he even had a chance to do so himself. His shopping bag was placed by their feet. They’d probably take the drinks for themselves. They took his phone too, along with his wallet leaving him with no form of identification. 

“Who are you?” Kieran dared to ask, his voice trembling. “Where are we going?”

“Shut up.” 

They were going to kill him. Oh god, he was going to be murdered, his body thrown in a woods somewhere or a lake or burned and oh god. Would they ever find him? Would his mother get to bury him? What about Abi, would she blame herself? How long would it take her to grow concerned? Was she already pacing around anxiously, wringing her hands, waiting for him to come home?

When they were out of city limits, they pushed him to the floor, wrapping cloth around his eyes, binding his wrists and ankles with duct tape which they also placed over his mouth. They must have driven for miles. He was transferred to another vehicle at some point, open conversations taking place in a language he couldn’t understand. Occasionally they’d rip the tape off to pour water down his throat. He fell asleep at one point, he thought. It was all a haze, fuzzy memories leaving him unable to distinguish what’s real and what is fake. 

Next thing he knew he was being roughly dragged outside, mud staining his clothes as  he was thrown to the floor. 

“Good to see you again, Angel.” 

Kieran stilled, every hair on his neck stood on end, his heart leapt to his throat. He thought it might just stop. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” Lukas jeered, his honeyed voice washed over Kieran like acid. The blindfold was yanked off his face, letting him look up to a man he wished he’d forgotten. 

Calloused fingers cupped his cheek tenderly, bronze eyes filled with such gentle warmth met his own. He used to melt under that same gaze, putty in his hands. He would have done anything to please him, debased himself in so many ways just to see those soft eyes look at him once more. 

Now they just filled him with fear. 

“It’s been so long, hasn’t it Angel? Were you afraid you wouldn't see me again? I was beside myself. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing your face, haunting me like an enthralling ghost. I didn’t know what to do, I was so lost without you.” Lukas grabbed Kierans face in both hands, leaning in so close their noses almost touched, staring deep into his eyes in a way that made his skin crawl. This couldn’t be happening. This had to be some horrible nightmare, he was gone, he got out, he fled across half the country just to be safe and it wasn’t enough. He wanted to scream, wanted to yell, wanted to kick and scratch and do anything that would get him out of here, anything to never be trapped with this monster again. 

But his limbs were bound, his mouth stuffed full of cloth. Even if they weren’t, he wasn’t sure he was capable of it. He’d never fought back then. He hadn’t changed at all, not really. He was still the same meek figure he’d been back then. 

“You should never have left me Angel,” Lukas breathed, his breath hot on his face. “You’ll never leave me again.”

If you enjoyed please consider reblogging, it really helps the reach and lets others enjoy it too!

Being kidnapped by your abusive ex is bad enough - even worse is Lukas needs to make money. How will he do that? Hurting his Angel on camera, of course <3

[void-ink-studios]

Rise and Spit [Part 3] - A Mouthwashing AU

Behold, Chapter 3! Finally, Swansea makes his speaking debut.

Check it out on AO3 right here!

Content Warning:

General Jimmy Behvaior.

Word Count: 2,400

If Curly could be thankful about one thing, it would be that at least Jimmy seems to have lost interest in him.

While yes, him giving Curly pills continued to be awful and a dreaded part of his day, Jimmy seemed much more preoccupied with other things as of late.

Mainly, getting into the Utility room.

He had rambled about it for a long time during his last visit.  Ranted about Swansea “scheming��� behind his back, and that he needed to know what he and Anya were hiding in Utility.

“How did you deal with ants scheming behind your back, Curly?”  Jimmy asked that so casually.  Curly never really knew what Jimmy wanted from him when he did that.  An answer?  Wasn’t going to happen at the best of times, much less when Jimmy has shoved his hand down his neck.

Curly wished his body had the strength to bite through Jimmy’s fingers.  He’d been getting much more bold with them recently.  Seeing how far he could shove them down before he caused Curly to wretch.  Seeing how long they could stay there until the captain needed to breathe.

He hated it.  Even with the small blessing that Jimmy didn’t visit as often as he did, it didn’t change how much he had come to dread his friend’s presence.

The worst part is he didn’t know how much Jimmy actually meant to do that.  How much of this was malice, how much was a need for control, how much of this was frustration?

Curly didn’t really think it mattered anymore.

Take responsibility

Maybe it never mattered in the first place.

“Were they this unruly when you were captain? And I just didn’t notice?”

No.  Just you.

“I know they’re plotting something.  But I can’t get in to find out.  Swansea has the keys and the ax.  Maybe I could get Daisuke’s help.  Unless there’s some secret Captain knowledge I need to pry from you again.”

Curly shook his head.  He’d learned by this point.  Learned to answer Jimmy’s questions as best he could.  It was the fastest way he’d get left alone.

“I need to find the gun.  Where’d you put it?”

Curly shook his head again.  He still had no clue where Anya had hidden it.

“Figures.  Useless.  There’s only two reasons to keep you alive at this point.  Being useful I guess just isn’t one of them.  Guess you’re pretty lucky you’re my best friend, Curly.  That’s reason enough for me.  I’m going to save you.  And I’m going to make things right.  If only the others would just fucking cooperate.”

Curly felt sick hearing Jimmy call him his friend.  How could he…? After everything, how could he have the nerve?

He supposed with the same nerve that let him look Anya in the eye each and every day.

“Hey Curly.  When was the last time you had actual food?”

Curly shrugged.  Probably since before the crash if he had to guess.  There was no way his body could handle the ordeal of chewing and swallowing and digesting food at that point.  He’d probably just vomit it all back up if he had to guess.

“Hmm.  I’ll have to look into that.”

That didn’t sit well with Curly.  It left him staring at where Jimmy was, even when the man himself had long since left.

Curly wished he knew where everyone was.  But the Med Bay was his whole world these days.  With only a small window whenever the door to the Lounge and Med Bay were open at the same time.  Flashes of the same artificial orange light of the window screen.

Sometimes he saw Daisuke and Swansea chatting about something or other.  Sometimes he saw Anya pacing back and forth.  Sometimes he saw Jimmy whipped up in some rant.

His windows were brief.  But he supposed they’d have to be enough for now.

It wasn’t very long (he thought) before the door opened again.  Curly had expected Anya, or maybe even Daisuke since he’d been coming to chatter with him more often.

He was partially correct.

Anya was there.  And so was Swansea.

“No kidding?  It’s here?”

“As long as he didn’t find it.”

What were they…?

Curly watched as Anya mostly ignored him, instead squatting to reach a drawer under his bed.  She fiddled with some lock or another before it slid open.

Son of a bitch.

The gun.

Curly couldn’t help but wheeze a little laugh.  It was right here.  Right here the whole time.  Anya had it the whole time, and Jimmy was too blind to think to look here.

“What are you laughing at?”

Curly’s little moment of pride for Anya died pretty quickly under Swansea’s glare.  The older man looked at him like scum.

He knows he deserved that.

“We’ll deal with you later.  Just stay out of the way.  You’re good at that.”

Yeah, he absolutely deserved that.

“Swansea…”  Anya looked at the mechanic pleadingly.  Curly and Swansea stared at each other before Swansea huffed and turned to look down at her.

“Just… Let’s get this figured out first.  So you have no clue about the lock?”

“I know there’s a code, but Jimmy has the code scanner.  Not even sure where I’d find that written down, even if I had it.”

“Damn.  Okay, are you sure we can’t just break it open with the ax?”

“Curly said it was designed to be break resistant.  We’d probably just dull the ax doing that.”

Curly listened as his crewmates speculated.  The code… He knew the code.  Or, he thought he did… If Anya didn’t know the code, then she couldn’t have changed it, right?

He couldn’t speak… At least not enough to make numbers come out of his mouth.  He looked around himself, trying to find anything, anything at all he could use to communicate…

As insulting as the implication was, he really could use Jimmy’s button wall idea right about now.

And then he looked at the window screen.  And his own arm.

This was going to hurt.

I hope this hurts.

With as much force as he could, he started hitting the screen with the stump of his wrist, trying to make a noise.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Just getting that first number out caused waves of agony to shoot up and down his arm and shoulder.  He wanted to scream.  Maybe the screaming would get their attention.

But it also very well could get Jimmy’s.

Curly looked back towards Anya and Swansea.  The two were still murmuring amongst each other.  Anya’s eyes flicked from the box to Curly, a worried look on her face.

The captain cursed internally.

He groaned.  Gargled as loud a voice as he could muster.  Anything to get their attention.

Swansea sighed.  “You just got your medicine, we saw Jim leave this place 20 minutes ago.  What’s wrong now?”

“Swansea” Anya scolded. “He’s still my patient.  Do you need something, Curly?”

Curly tried banging on the screen again.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

“Curly, stop that, you’ll only hurt yourself doing that.  Do you need something?”

“We’re trying to think here.  You making that kinda racket isn’t helping.”

Curly desperately shook his head and did it again.  Maybe if he did it all in one go…

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

“Curly, stop-”

He shook his head and paused.

1, 2, 3

Swansea reached to try and stop him, but he held his other arm out to keep him at a distance. He paused again, bracing himself for the last digit.  Of course it had to be the highest number on the lock.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

“Wait…”  Anya looked between Curly and the lock box.  “Was… Was that the code?  Curly, was that the code?”

Curly makes a noise of affirmation, nodding his head as best he can.  His arm is in agony, what’s left of his wrist starting to bleed, but he can hardly care.

He tapped on the window screen the sequence one more time, now that he knew for sure they were paying attention.  It left blood marks on the staticy sunset, but that hardly mattered.  He didn’t take his eye off of Anya the entire time.

“7, 3, 9.  That’s it, that’s the code!”  Anya made a triumphant little noise as the safety box clicked open.  She made short work of sorting out the gun and the bullets, hiding it away in her jacket.

Curly nods, letting his arm finally fall back down, letting it hang off the bed as it drips a little bit of blood onto the Med Bay floor.  Anya looked at the bruised limb and the smeared blood on the screen, darkening the orange light with dark red.

“Captain… Curly, why did you do that…?”

The Captain couldn’t look at Anya.  What was there to say?

I had to help!

Well, then why did it take him so long to do so?

I want Jimmy stopped as much as you do!

How can he possibly say that after everything he let slip?  That he only cares about it now that he’s being affected too?

I want to apologize…

She didn’t need an apology from him now, she needed him to do something, anything, before.

In the end, Curly didn’t make a coherent answer.  He just made a soft noise and nodded at Anya.  He hoped with all his being she could feel a fraction of the apology it was meant to be.  And he wanted now more than ever to make his ruined voice make words.

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Swansea said.  “Right now, we both have a weapon.  We need to make our move, before that rat gets any other stupid ideas.  Anya, are you clear on the plan?”

Anya had a look in her eyes.  A worried one.  Like she was bracing herself for something.

Swansea put a gentle hand on her shoulder.  “Hey.  You know you don’t have to do this, right?  If you want, you can lock yourself in here, and I’ll take care of it.”

Anya seemed to think about it for a second before shaking her head.  “No.  No, I have to help.  I need to do this.  For me.”

“Atta girl.  Go get something to eat.  I’ll be right behind you.”

Anya gave a worried glance over to Curly and his bleeding arm.  “I should patch him up first.  He did help get the case open.”

Swansea gives Curly a look of consideration.

“...Fair’s fair, I guess.  Do what you need to do.  I’ll watch the door.”

Curly didn’t want to admit how much he missed her touch.  Or, maybe it was just a gentle touch in general.  So he made sure to savor the moment, of Anya diligently reapplying bandages to his arm, stopping the bleeding, and giving him another once over.

“That should do for now… Try and take it easy Curly.  Okay?”

Curly nodded, hoping that she’s at least understanding his gratitude.

“Now you need to eat,” Swansea insisted at Anya.  “Go.  I’ll wrap things up here.”

“Okay.  Thank you, Swansea.  For everything.”

“Eh, don’t mention it.  You and Daisuke just need to keep each other busy and let me work when this is all over, got it?”

Anya rolled her eyes and smiled a little.

“Yeah yeah, we will.  But I better not catch you drinking mouthwash again.  That was the deal, yeah?”

“Fine.  If we get out of this mess.”

Anya gave Swansea a little peck on the cheek before leaving for the Lounge.

Curly could feel the older man’s eyes on him.  And the withering glare returned.  He wanted to hide under the bed somehow.  Or disappear into that broken vent.

“So what.  You suddenly care now?”

Curly turned his head to meet the glare.  He looked at the ax firmly in Swansea’s grasp.  He knew he deserved this.

Take responsibility.

“Didn’t seem to give a shit when you could actually be helpful.  Change of heart or something?  Or is it because you need her to stay alive?”

Curly shook his head at that last accusation.

“Jesus Christ.”  Curly’s world shifted as he was pulled up by the collar of his hospital gown.  His breathing tightened as he looked into Swansea’s eyes.  “Listen to me you little coward.  All this shit is on your hands.  You got us into this mess.  You might not have been the one to hurt Anya directly, but she sure as shit is still hurt by you.  If it were up to me, I would’ve stuck this ax in your head and put you out of your misery.”

Swansea moved closer suddenly.  Too suddenly.  Curly flinched as much as his body would allow, his mind replacing Swansea’s face with someone else’s.

I hope this hurts

Take responsibility

The motion made the old man pause for a moment.  His face was still furious.  But… something, for a moment, softened.  Swansea, instead of just dropping him, gently set the captain back down.

“But it ain’t up to me, at least not entirely.  Daisuke’s too much of a god damn good person to want to ax you.  And Anya…”

Curly stared at Swansea as he seemed deep in thought.

“...Anya’s not sure what she wants to do with you yet.  Maybe you won her favor just now.  Maybe she doesn’t wanna waste anymore energy on you.  I dunno.  But whatever it is she wants to do, I’ll do it.  But I want you to know something.  Whatever she decides, don’t go looking to me for help.  You’re not worth it.”

Curly simply nodded.  The motion seemed to surprise Swansea a bit.  But what else could he do?  He knew it was all true.  He wouldn’t blame Anya in the slightest if she decided he was dead weight.

The two men stared at each other for a long time.

“Swansea?  Dude, it’s meal time.”

Swansea looked back at Daisuke, standing in the doorway.  The kid seemed to look between his mentor and the captain, a nervous expression on his face.

“...Right.  Yeah, I’ll be right there.”  Swansea looked back down at Curly.  “...We’ll see.”

And thus, Curly was alone again.  He stared at the ceiling, numb to it all.  He knew Swansea was right.  He was worse than dead weight.  He couldn’t plead his case, even if he wanted to.

And he found that he didn’t.

Anya deserved to be free of the burdens.

All of them.

Curly didn’t know how much time had passed before the door to the Med Bay opened again.  “I can’t ever tell if you’re awake or not.”

Please no…

Jimmy closed the door behind him.  And he locked it.

[kraang5]

[REDACTED]

….so…uhm..

Tags -> …

[ricky-mortis]

Curtwen Week Day 4: Haunted

[fumifooms]

Dungeon lord Chilchuck

What would his wish as a dungeon lord be? What would he be like? Headcanons & speculation post for fun. But I’ll start with analytic lead up because that’s always fun for me, though feel free to skip and skim.

When it comes to what Chilchuck’s dungeon lord desires could/would be like we have mainly 3 hints: His nightmare, his succubus and what the winged lion says to him.

Why: — From what we see nightmares are based on the person’s worst fears and insecurities, both Laios’ and Marcille’s nightmare were closely tied to their dungeon lord wishes (Laios’ dream monster being summoned to crush the ghosts of relationships that represented the pressure to fit in and belong, Marcille seeking control over death and aging through magic to avoid loss), the fuel behind their desire/goal if you will. Fear and deep-seated desires are seemingly closely tied, something also supported by Thistle and Mithrun’s reigns as dungeon lords (Thistle proving his worth through fulfilling his given duty + protecting his loved ones, being listened to instead of having to listen, Mithrun escaping rigid two-faced elven society and living in a wonderland where he has no enemies and he’s loved, free from everyone he knew yet propped up by the person symbolizing his brother being chosen over him, the bastard child).

— I’ve talked about the significance I assign to the succubi often by now, but rundown: What we see of each character is all very telling if you care to listen, it shows not only someone’s "ideal form" but what they want from it. Izutsumi’s is familial, offering a hug and comfort, Marcille’s is romantic with a character she knows and loves, offering a kiss on a hand and a connection regardless of how distant it actually is, and Laios’ is platonic, arguable at first but then Laios’ fear of judgement is placated and he is offered the picture perfect friend group that accepts his interest (if you want my full look at Laios’ succubus go here). They take on the most alluring form, most ideal person of their victim, even uncovering deep subconscious desires, so precisely and effectively to the point it leaves victims physically frozen before the object of their desire. Succubi and the demon are themselves tied in lore and it’s easy to see how similar their core skill are. Succubi don’t give a good idea of what a character would wish for on their own but they certainly give hints on what they crave, regardless of how you want to read it.

— Last bit is self-explanatory. To placate Chilchuck and win his compliance over, the monster that reads your soul like an open book offers to give him something specific. But! It’s also important to remember that the lion isn’t offering to fulfill Chilchuck’s dream world wish here, it’s a second prize, because his goal with what he promised Laios is that they’d stay in this world, away from everyone and everything else. Chilchuck wants to get away but is kept back, and it’s here the lion placates him with "hey it’s okay! You can’t do that but I can still give you this! This is enough right? It’ll make everything easier on you".

What each bit says: — Long version in another post. Tldlr: His daughters and family are obviously important to him, and this reinforces that he takes on the role of protector a lot, he’s constantly worried for his party members’ lives and implicitly his family’s. Safety and stability, both economical and otherwise, are his core values and goals, and he berates both others and himself if someone fails on those fronts. Here, there’s the fear of not being enough, of not having been able to protect, and of course of loss.

— Chil’s succubi are obviously sexual, and not only that but agressively and straightforwardly so. It’s not like Marcille’s where there’s personality involved, all they do is give him sultry looks and pretty smiles before jumping on him. His succubi aren’t like Izutsumi’s, always the same exact person and appearance, so it’s not someone but an appealing general idea. The idea of a sexual being he can regard as simply a gorgeous piece of meat and a good time no strings attached. In my interpretation, especially with my reading of Laios’ succubus where even with deep-seated desires negative emotions can be too intense to effectively freeze a victim, I think this doesn’t contradict his character. Relationships have been painful to him in the past, in the succubus scene when his wife gets mentioned his immediate reaction is to yell "Don’t bring her up now!", like with his habit of drinking and as a tallman liking his senses feeling dulled, it’s about not having to feel emotions with how difficult they are to deal with sometimes and just feeling good, or at least not having to think, for a while. If a succubus showcases someone’s ideal connection with an ideal person, then Chilchuck’s is with a pretty person that doesn’t stir any negative memory or drama, someone low stakes and low maintenance that doesn’t require him to manage or talk out feelings because there’s none involved in the first place.

— Once more, wife and family are important! He does long for his family, not only his wife but his daughters, and vice versa. This suggests not only that he wants good relationships with them but that he wants them to be with him, a family life. Far from the cut communication they all more of less have during canon, and perhaps far from their life pre-canon when he worked away from home a significant amount of time. We’ve seen recreations of people by the winged lion before with doppelgangers and monsters (naga), and though he claims he can make satisfying imitations, what we’ve seen is that they base themselves on the best memories of that person, like with Marcille’s dad, or twist behavior to be more pleasant, like Mithrun’s lover (and possibly twist appearances depending on the person’s view of them, but that’s Mithrun analysis). The line does suggest Chilchuck would want his family members as they are in reality and not idealized versions, but the circumstances are chaotic and urgent enough in the scene (and again the lion isn’t fulfilling Chilchuck’s wish but trying to make him content for Laios’) that it could just be the winged lion saying what he needs to to convince him the fastest possible, and like we see with Laios that can crumble to give way to deeper or more complex desires.

On top of that we just have general info on Chil. How does Chilchuck deal w his issues? What does he like to do? He likes alcohol and ignoring his problems. We have to remember there is a split between what someone would consciously wish for and what their soul uncontrollably irrationally craves. As always with Dunmeshi, there’s a narrative of irrational deep-seated desires vs active wants, what you crave vs what you strive for, what you dream of vs what’s actually good for you, the animal vs the human inside you, heart vs mind. Chilchuck craving a harem of hot babes in his fantasies but wanting his family life & wife back again is not mutually exclusive. You may crave becoming a monster and tasting what humans are like a little but still want to save the world & your friends more.

Btw can we adress the irony of him terrified of being the last one alive, of being left by his daughters and wife, of having left and coming back home one day to see everything gone or rampaged, yet not caring about dying of liver failure himself, knowing every time that he enters a dungeon there’s a real risk he may not come out. Die somewhere I can’t see you. I prefer leaving you than being left behind. He’s selfish and shortsighted like that… Chilchuck is selfless in many ways of course, but perhaps also due to his own relationship with his parents, he often undermines the effects he has on others in his relationships, both the good and the bad (he talks himself down about being cowardly and greedy yes, but never hints at his bad health habits, alcoholism and starving himself, may have affected his loved ones, doesn’t question his wife falling into a bad mood the night before she left, and talks about the possibility of dying here and there very casually, though obviously he tries his best to stay alive when it doesn’t concern his health).

Chilchuck king of "Let me just avoid and ignore my problems surely they’ll go away, things might work out and if they don’t well tough luck I’ll survive and I probably deserve it anyways". If I don’t look at it it will dissapear <3 Why care when you can simply not think about it.

You might not understand Mister "my love will stay strong through months of work travel and also 4 years of separation" and Mister "well idk my siblings and me are kinda strangers and my dad is dead but that’s kinda whatever", but typically relationships need some form of maintenance and emotional availability…

The actual headcanons finally

I kinda have 2 routes in mind for dunlord Chil and both of them are centered on "I care too much, i wish things were easy", so first is a lot like his succubi, it’s full on indulging in his guilty pleasures like alcohol and bodies and it’s to keep him in a constant state of thrill and euphoria and distracted, unfeeling about stuff that really matters. "Nothing matters except that I’m enjoying the moment!" vibe. He gets to live a life worthy of Dionysus, with alcohol and women and debauchery and like— never having to think again, never having to feel anything but pleasure again, never have to feel guilty or shitty or angry or sad. He has a harem and gets everything on a silver platter.

Breaking news demon magic-induced rush of euphoria and power still not enough to cure this man of his self-hatred nor his capacity for thought!! But in his case a state of euphoria is what he seeks I think, to kinda mask or replace the Everything Else.

The other is what I think closer to what canon suggests, with what WL implied too with "I’ll make you a new wife and kids like the originals!! 😊", it’s a (spoilers) Wandavision type thing where it’s a slice of life where he’s never at work and always at home and the family eats lunches at the dinner table together and everything and everyone at any moment is just. Happy. No issues. It was all a dream, this is real and everything is fine and your family is perfect and happy. I like to think the timeline would be wonky, his daughters would fluctuate in age, but he’d want to be there for what he missed, would want them to still rely on him and look up to him like when they were young, would like to forget that they’re now independent adults and the distance that grew between Chilchuck and his siblings is happening between them as well. Chil would want doppelgangers of his family imo, at its core just a general wish for a peaceful happy family life with no drama, no need to compromise, a little paradise of unconditional love and no consequences. It’s for sure straightforward, but Chilchuck is a man with straightforward desires…

But see Chilchuck is a greedy man, and he wants it both ways without having to sacrifice anything or expanding any efforts himself. He wants to have his cake and eat it too. I think playing with these two opposite directions and mixing and matching is most fun. Him leading a life where he indulges in all his worst habits while still having everything he wants… Him getting to have BOTH his wife and any woman he can imagine up, his life like two sides of a coin he can flip at any moment where he’s partying then he’s at home enjoying the quiet and his toddler daughters playing with toys on the carpet. Christ when you remember it’s all an illusion that’s terrifying, the doppelgangers and succubi from the winged lion playing chilchuck ping pong.

A safe little haven both security-stability wise and emotionally. Gets to have both the relaxing and the thrilling in any dose he wants, mixed or separatedly. What I’d argue he had pre-canon too: Can live it up in taverns away from home, stays away from home for long periods of time, and can come back to home aka the symbol of relaxation and safety whenever he decides to. Something he can leave and come back to at will, an anchor he can trust in (until it’s taken from him and his wife leaves. Or in his worse nightmare people rush in and kill his daughters). The ideal of a house and family to a working man, perhaps…

I think it’s fun to think on wether or not these desires would be interesting at all to the winged lion… In canon he seeks out "rare/complex desires", common simple things like I imagine riches, sex, substances and pleasure would be are boring to him, he’s eaten those so many times already. So perhaps he wouldn’t last long as a dunlord, the WL would want to eat him fully quick, can’t keep him interested or waiting long for a meager meal, too much effort raising the cattle and too low quality meat. By making it more twisted or layered Chil’s desire would become more desirable to the demon, it’s part of what’s fun with the third option to me. But whatever. Has he ever eaten a guy with this much repression and self-sabotage... Like trying to get the meat out of a walnut, enrichment…

Other dunlord Chil takes I’ve seen that are fun and good:

@feelo-fick and @pluvio-floret have a dunlord Chilchuck AU project dubbed "tragedy AU" where Chilchuck is said to be "on vacation", in a weird delirious state, only half-there half of the time… From which he doesn’t want to wake up </3 Quoting Feelo, this is why the vacation thing is only a half-joke cause he is 1) letting all his responsibilities go 2) indulging in himself and 3) "spending time with his family" <- lie but you get what i mean. Additional comments that have me vigorously nodding: because changing is hard why cant things just be okay right now without the effort !!! Life is hard he’s so so tired he just wants to feel good… he just wants life to feel nice and easy for a sec while he can learn to breathe again and lose the stress and trauma he’s accumulated…….. spoiler alert yes !!! in fact a depressed person can suck themselves into their job and lock out the world who wouldve thought !!!

And then Cabinette I know posted about his dunlord take once but I don’t have the link, in which Chil has a lot of nosebleeds because of mana overload which is fun and interesting to think about imo~

In dunmeshi, where characters get underground pockets of the world as their playground disconnected from everything outside and the rest of the world, it’s important to remember to face reality even if it has conflict and people with different views and stances from you, it’s something Chilchuck and Marcille and everyone needed to learn, and the thing with a dungeon lord AU is that you imagine a timeline where he fails to <3

A timeline where his dungeon lord wish is to desire nothing bc hope and want has only ever hurt him would also go so hard. Very universal thing though I suppose.

… And this is why a Chilchuck-centric Coraline AU is really really interesting and fitting and topical— Ok that’ll go in a separate reblog/post at @Fumiku I need to let this end

[guppygiggles]

Trying to decide if I want Avery as a medical doctor or a university professor in my Sea and Sky AU… I’m honestly leaning teacher, but, um. Both have their. Charms. ////

[cetoddle]

okay what i have to say is lowkey embarrassing but i wanna bitch and it’s probably only embarrassing to me bc im shy about this stuff anyways the moral of the story is i wanna bitch and u should probably just ignore me. god bless

[stonesandswords]

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[insanechayne]

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[barley-st-band]

hey does anyone know how we’re supposed to survive it all. asking for a friend

[cuteniaarts]

Fanny, my sweet, beautiful girl

17.11.2012 – 14.04.2019

[fly-away-flynn]

Hey guys, I turned a new leaf (I was abused).