#and i can never be normal and needed to animate it

[hjvi]

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𝘜𝘯𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯, 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘠𝘰𝘶

⚠︎  mdni, heavy smut, eating disorder (anorexia), overall mature subjects, and more

⤷ A gentle reminder: If my content ever feels overwhelming, please take care of yourself and step away. Anorexia is a key theme in this story, and as someone who understands its weight, this fic is deeply personal to me. I want to remind you that you're never alone in your journey.

Sending love and healing to all. 🩷

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𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 2: 𝙎𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩

The sound of skates carving through ice echoed in the quiet rink, but it barely registered in my mind. I was too focused on the way Chris’s hand felt in mine. The warmth of his fingers, the way they gently squeezed as if trying to anchor me to this moment, to him. I wasn’t sure if it was the silence of the rink or the chaos inside my head, but there was something in the air—something thick with unspoken words.

Chris and I stood side by side, staring out at the empty ice, both lost in the gravity of everything that had been said. He had apologized, confessed his love to me, and promised to help me heal. His words hung in the air between us, fragile and uncertain. I had told him I was willing to give us a chance, to give him a chance. But I wasn’t sure if I believed I deserved any of this.

I glanced down at our hands, our fingers still intertwined. And that’s when I saw it.

His eyes dropped to my bruised hands. The skin was discolored, darkened from the impact of fists, marks left from someone who should have loved me. The edges of his expression tightened for a fraction of a second before he quickly glanced away, like he couldn’t stand looking at them anymore. His jaw clenched briefly before he let out a shaky breath.

“Hey, uh,” Chris started, his voice tight as if he were trying to sound normal. “Do you wanna come over to my house? I have something I want to show you.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t know if I was ready for more of his kindness, for more of his attention. But I nodded slowly, almost instinctively. What else could I do? I wasn’t sure how long I could stand there, the weight of his unspoken questions pulling me under.

We left the rink, and within minutes, Matt—his only triplet brother with a license—pulled up in their old, beat-up car. The ride was silent, the kind of silence that feels louder than anything. Chris, normally so animated, so full of energy, sat beside me, his eyes flicking to me every few seconds as if he were studying my every move, trying to make sense of the distance between us.

I could feel his eyes on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, pressing down on me with every passing second.

When we finally arrived at Chris’s house, I shuffled behind him up to his room, his footsteps quick and purposeful, as if he wanted to show me something important. My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I took in the walls of his room, decorated with rap posters, old vinyl records, and the familiar scent of his cologne and something else—comfort, maybe. It was all so him, yet I felt so out of place.

“You okay?” he asked, concern in his eyes as he glanced over at me. He had been looking at me like that all day—like I was something precious that he couldn’t bear to break.

I nodded stiffly, offering him a weak smile as I dropped my eyes to the sleeves of my hoodie. They were covered in dried tears, remnants of mascara streaking down my face from the few times I had wiped away my tears, trying to keep it together. I wasn’t even sure why I cared.

Chris noticed, and without hesitation, he moved to his closet, pulling out a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. “Here,” he said, holding them out to me. “You need something clean. You can change in the bathroom, if you want.”

I accepted the clothes reluctantly, feeling an odd wave of guilt rise in my chest. I didn’t want to take anything from him. But his kindness felt almost overwhelming. And when I inhaled the scent of his hoodie, it was like an old memory wrapped around me, one that made me ache for a time I hadn’t realized I had lost. The familiarity of it made me feel both comforted and strangely distant.

“I’ll wait outside,” he said, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him gently.

I walked into the bathroom and shut the door. The room was silent except for the hum of the fluorescent light above me. The mirror reflected a version of myself I didn’t recognize. I stood there for a long time, staring at myself. I unzipped my hoodie and slipped it off, throwing it on the floor, before pulling at the waistband of my low-rise jeans, stepping out of them with shaky hands. I was all too aware of the hollow feeling in my body, the emptiness that came from not eating, not caring.

As I reached for the hoodie Chris had given me, I slid my arms into the sleeves, feeling how much too big it was. The fabric hung off me like a curtain, too large for my frame. I felt the fabric stretch and tug, the empty space inside me made all too clear.

I lifted the hoodie, my fingers grazing the sharp outline of my ribs. I swallowed hard, fighting the rising wave of panic. I could feel the hollow hollowness inside of me, the bruises left by years of self-doubt and the echoes of my father’s words.

I stared at myself in the mirror, not realizing how much time had passed. Minutes slipped by like hours.

I couldn’t take it. I yanked the hoodie off, the fabric crumpling in my hands. My skin prickled with a familiar discomfort—the kind of vulnerability that I hated, the kind of vulnerability I had never been allowed to show.

There was a knock at the door.

“Are you okay in there?” Chris’s voice was muffled but full of concern.

I wanted to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. Before I could say anything, the door creaked open just a fraction. And then Chris stepped inside, his eyes immediately catching on my bare skin, my sweatpants hanging off my frame, and the rawness of my vulnerability.

He froze. “Oh God, I’m sorry,” he stammered, his face flushing in embarrassment. But he didn’t turn away. Instead, he stepped back, his eyes not leaving me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, I sank down onto the floor, my knees buckling beneath me as my body began to tremble. The sobs came in waves, uncontrollable, and I couldn’t stop them. I just sat there, breaking apart in front of him, unsure how to stop the flood of emotion that had been building for so long.

Chris, to his credit, didn’t try to rush over. He sat down next to me slowly, careful not to overwhelm me. He gave me space, but his presence was steady, like an anchor holding me together when I was slipping away. His hand hovered near me, unsure, but it was enough.

“You don’t like the hoodie color?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but I couldn’t even muster a smile.

“I feel so weak, Chris,” I cried. “I feel so skinny, like I’m fading away, and I can’t stop. I’m just… I’m so broken.”

His hand finally found its way to my back, gently rubbing circles over the fabric of his hoodie. “You’re not weak,” he said softly. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And you don’t need to feel insecure. I love you. I’ll help you through this. You don’t have to fight this alone anymore.”

His words—gentle, so full of love and compassion—were a balm to the raw wounds inside me. I buried my face in his chest, not caring about how vulnerable I was, how exposed. For the first time in a long time, I let myself cry freely, knowing that someone was here to help me piece myself back together.

When the tears finally started to subside, Chris pulled away gently, his fingers brushing my hair out of my face. “How about a bath?” he suggested quietly. “A vanilla bubble bath. I’ll set it up for you.”

I let out a shaky giggle, feeling a hint of something lighter for the first time that night. “That sounds nice.”

“I’ll get everything ready,” he said, his voice soothing as he helped me stand. “You just… take all the time you need.”

As he went to his brother Matt’s room to give me some privacy, I stood there for a moment, lost in the quiet of the bathroom. I reached up to wipe away the last of my tears, but the weight of everything still hung heavy on my shoulders.

When I walked back into Chris’s room later, towel in hand, I overheard him talking to Matt in hushed tones, the conversation I had been dreading.

“Do you think she’s too thin?” Matt asked, his voice quieter than usual.

“I don’t know,” Chris replied, a tone of sadness in his words. “She’s just… so fragile, Matt. I don’t know how to fix her. I just want to help her.”

The words crushed me. I turned on my heel and fled back to his room, sinking down onto the floor with my back against his bed. It wasn’t about fixing me. I wasn’t some broken thing to be fixed.

I wiped away my tears, quickly swallowing down the rising wave of self-doubt. When Chris entered the room, he froze when he saw me sitting on the floor. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, kneeling down beside me.

“I don’t know, Chris,” I whispered, the weight of it all crashing back down on me. “I don’t know how to wash myself… I hate seeing my body.”

“Hey,” he said, lifting my chin gently, “it’s okay. You don’t have to do it alone.”

He reached under his bed and pulled out a small, weathered box. He opened it slowly, revealing photos of me, my hair ties, old bracelets, small trinkets I had long forgotten about. My breath caught in my throat.

“I kept everything because I can’t live my life without thinking about you,” Chris said softly, his eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite understand. “You are so beautiful. I hate seeing you do this to yourself. But I’ll be here. I’ll always be here, and I won’t leave you.”

I stared at the box, unable to speak for a moment. His words hit me harder than anything. He cared about me, but why did he talk about me like I was something broken, something that needed fixing?

I didn’t know, but I had to find out. And for the first time in so long, I was willing to try.

Chris sat beside me, the silence in his room hanging like a heavy blanket. He’d shown me the box, full of my old trinkets—little pieces of me that I hadn’t even realized mattered to him. But now, staring down at the photos, the bracelets, and the hair ties I had long forgotten about, something inside me was starting to crack.

“I—I didn’t even know you kept these,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I ran my fingers over a photo of me from years ago. It was from a school trip, one where I had laughed so hard my stomach ached, my eyes crinkling with joy. I couldn’t even remember that girl. She felt like a stranger now.

“I couldn’t let go of anything that had you in it,” Chris murmured, his voice low and serious, as if the weight of his words mattered more than anything else. “You’ve always been on my mind. Always. Even when I was… too stupid to realize it.”

I felt a swell of warmth in my chest at his words, but a sharp pang of guilt followed right after. He kept these things because he couldn’t forget me. But I had been so lost, so deep in the dark that I couldn’t remember who I was before all the pain.

“You always knew how to make me laugh,” I said, swallowing hard as I fought against the rush of emotions. “I used to laugh all the time. And now, it feels like I’ve forgotten how.”

Chris didn’t answer at first. His hand, gentle but firm, found mine. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, pulling my gaze back to him. His eyes were so earnest, so full of concern, like he could see right through the walls I had built around myself.

“You haven’t forgotten, though,” he said softly. “You just haven’t had a reason to laugh in a while. But you will again, I promise.”

I looked away, tears gathering in my eyes, and Chris squeezed my hand, the contact grounding me, reminding me that I wasn’t alone in this.

“Chris… I—I’m scared,” I whispered, barely audible. “Scared of what’s happening inside me. I don’t know how to fix it.”

His face softened, and he slowly pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me. I rested my head against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of him—the cologne, the faint smell of laundry detergent, and something uniquely Chris, something that felt like home. His embrace was warm, enveloping, and for a moment, the world outside his room, outside of everything I had been through, seemed so far away.

“You don’t have to fix anything,” he whispered into my hair. “I’ll help you, step by step. But you don’t have to fix it all on your own. You don’t have to carry this burden alone. Not anymore.”

I nodded, my breath catching as I allowed myself to lean into him, feeling something shift within me. The heaviness that had weighed on my chest for so long was starting to lighten, piece by piece.

There was a long pause, where all we did was hold each other, not saying anything more. And then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Chris pulled back slightly, his hand moving to my cheek, lifting my face to meet his eyes.

“You want to take that bath?” he asked softly, his voice coaxing yet gentle.

I hesitated for a moment. I hadn’t planned on doing anything like that. The thought of getting clean, of scrubbing away the remnants of the past, made me feel exposed in ways I wasn’t ready to face. But something in his gaze softened the edges of my fear.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “I think I do.”

“Good,” he said, his crooked smile tender as he brushed a lock of hair from my face. “I’ll get it ready for you.”

I stepped into the bathroom a few minutes later, the soft sound of Chris’s footsteps fading into the background as he prepared the bath. The room was bathed in warm light, the kind of soft glow that felt like it could cradle me in its embrace. He had already filled the tub with bubbles, the scent of vanilla wafting through the air.

“Here,” Chris said, handing me a fresh towel and a pair of his old slippers, the kind he wore around the house. “I’ll give you privacy to change. Just… take your time.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak. The thought of washing away the layers of pain that had accumulated over time felt almost foreign. But Chris was right—this was part of healing. I could start small. I could start with something simple, like the warmth of the water surrounding me.

As I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the bath, the water felt like a second skin. It was soothing and gentle, yet the bubbles seemed to bring everything to the surface. I leaned back, letting the warmth seep into my muscles, trying to breathe deeply, trying to calm the storm that raged inside my head.

But it was still there. The emptiness, the ache. The feeling of being too small, too fragile, too broken.

Chris knocked on the door softly a few minutes later, his voice muffled. “You okay in there?”

“I’m… I think so,” I called back, my voice barely above a whisper.

He pushed the door open a crack, just enough for his head to peek through. “Do you want me to come in?” he asked, his eyes soft with concern.

I hesitated. A thousand thoughts swirled in my head. But in that moment, I needed him. Not in the way I had needed someone before, but in the way that felt raw and real.

“Yeah,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Please.”

Chris stepped into the bathroom, his presence so calming it was like I could finally breathe a little easier. He moved with quiet care, making sure not to intrude, not to overwhelm.

He sat on the edge of the tub, his hand brushing lightly against my hair, careful not to disturb the bubbles.

“Do you need help?” he asked, his voice a soft murmur.

I shook my head, feeling a lump rise in my throat. “I don’t know if I can… do this,” I whispered.

Chris took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was unwavering. “I’m here. I’ll help however I can, even if it’s just sitting here with you.”

And so, he did. He sat by the edge of the tub, his hand gently resting on my arm, a grounding presence.

I finally closed my eyes, letting the warmth of the water, the comfort of his touch, and the gentleness of his voice wash over me.

The warm water enveloped me like a second skin. The steam rose in gentle swirls, filling the bathroom with the soft scent of vanilla bubbles, calming me just enough to breathe deeper. But as I sank further into the tub, I couldn’t shake the heavy weight pressing down on my chest. The scars, the bruises, the emptiness inside—it was all still there, lingering like a storm inside me.

The soft clink of a bottle being opened echoed in the quiet, followed by the sound of Chris’s voice, calm and steady, like he was trying to anchor me.

“Is the water warm enough?” he asked, standing just outside the tub, his voice soft and considerate.

I nodded, though my eyes were shut, a futile attempt to block out everything. I hadn’t expected this. I hadn’t expected him to stay close, to offer to help. It was overwhelming in a way I couldn’t explain. But still, I felt the faintest stir of relief in my heart. Maybe this was what I needed. Maybe this was how I could start to heal.

Chris, sensing my hesitance, didn’t rush. He waited, patient and gentle, until I nodded again, finally allowing him into the space I had, until now, kept so tightly guarded.

“I’m right here,” he said, kneeling beside the tub. His hand reached out, his fingers brushing softly against my shoulder as if to reassure me. He was so close, and yet he gave me space, the quiet comfort of his presence enough to settle my nerves. “Do you want me to help you wash?”

The words felt strange on my tongue, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. But part of me wanted him to stay close, to be the one to help me through this—this vulnerability that terrified me. So, I swallowed my pride and nodded, unsure of what else to do.

Chris’s voice was low and steady, a constant reassurance as he reached for the body wash, the soft scent of lavender and vanilla wafting through the air. He poured it into his hands, lathering it gently before turning his attention back to me.

“I’m just going to start with your arms, okay?” he asked, his eyes soft but filled with something more—something that felt like a promise.

I swallowed hard, afraid of what I might see if I let him in too much, but I couldn’t find the strength to pull away. There was something about his kindness, his unwavering patience, that made me feel a little less fragile.

His fingers gently cupped my wrist as he began to wash the skin of my arms, his touch tender, careful not to overwhelm me. The sensation of his hands gliding over my skin was almost too much to bear, yet it was strangely soothing, like he was washing away pieces of the hurt that had accumulated for so long.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” Chris murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper, a tenderness in his tone that made my heart ache. His touch was light as he moved down, past my elbows, moving to my forearms, the lather turning into a soft foam as it slid across my skin. His touch was careful, as if he could sense the weight of my past, the scars, both seen and unseen, that I was trying to bury beneath the surface.

I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of his hands. Trying to let it soothe the growing discomfort in my chest. But with every gentle sweep of his fingers, the floodgates seemed to open, and my chest tightened. The moment felt too intimate, too raw, but still, I stayed.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered, his voice steady like a beacon in the storm. “I’m right here.”

His hands moved to my shoulders, the pads of his fingers tracing over the skin of my upper arms with gentle care. As he reached the back of my neck, his hands hesitated, and I could feel the heat of his gaze, though I refused to meet it. I could feel the weight of his concern pressing against me, like he wanted to do more, wanted to somehow fix what had been broken for so long.

But he didn’t push. He simply washed, quietly, steadily, as if he was trying to reassure me that nothing would change in this moment—he wouldn’t rush, he wouldn’t push me beyond what I could handle.

Slowly, I felt his hands move to the small of my back, washing down the length of my spine. His touch was so gentle, so unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world to make sure I felt cared for. His hands glided over the small curve of my back, and even though I felt exposed, raw, I felt something stir within me—a longing for comfort, for healing. I closed my eyes, biting back the tremors that threatened to overtake me.

“You’re okay,” Chris said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re safe.”

I felt the tears well up in my eyes again, threatening to spill over, but I held them back, clenching my fists in the water, willing them to stay.

His hands moved to my ribs then, slowly, as though he was afraid of hurting me. The touch was so tender that it made my heart ache in a way I wasn’t prepared for. His fingers brushed over the skin of my side, and I stiffened involuntarily, the memories of being touched without care, without kindness, rushing back to me.

Chris noticed instantly. His hands froze for a moment, as though he was waiting for me to pull away. But I didn’t. Instead, I leaned into his touch, trying to let it soothe me, trying to remind myself that I wasn’t broken beyond repair. Not yet.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion. “I just… I just hate how I look. How I feel.”

Chris’s voice softened, filled with an emotion I couldn’t place. “You’re beautiful,” he said simply, the words steady, unwavering. “You’re beautiful just the way you are. Don’t ever forget that.”

I closed my eyes tighter, not sure I could believe him, but the warmth of his hands on my skin, the way his fingers moved carefully over me, told me he wasn’t lying. He saw me. The real me. Not the broken pieces I tried to hide.

His hands moved to my stomach, gently lathering the soap along the curve of my waist. I could feel myself wanting to shrink away, but I stayed, breathing in deeply, trying to let myself relax. I had to remind myself that this was Chris. The same Chris who had made me laugh in ways I had forgotten. The same Chris who had been my friend, my constant, long before everything had gone wrong. And now, he was still here.

“Almost done,” he said, his voice quiet, soothing. His hands moved slowly, methodically, as though trying to memorize the feel of me, as though he needed to make sure I was taken care of.

I nodded again, my throat tight with emotion, but the discomfort started to ease just a little. His hands felt like safety, like protection, and I let the warmth of the water, of him, wash over me.

When he finished, Chris gently pulled his hands away and grabbed the towel from the nearby rack. His fingers worked quickly, drying my skin with soft, deliberate motions. His touch, while gentle, was insistent, as if he was trying to remind me that I was still here, still whole, even if it didn’t feel like it.

“Come on,” he said, his voice soft, a smile tugging at his lips as he helped me out of the tub. “Let’s get you cozy.”

As he helped me into a pair of his old sweatpants and a loose hoodie, I couldn’t help but notice how his hands lingered over the soft fabric. It felt so… normal. The simple act of being cared for, of being seen, was something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in a long time.

When he finished, he tucked me into his bed, the soft covers enveloping me like a cocoon. He sat on the edge, just watching me, his eyes full of something I didn’t know how to name.

“I’m here,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, or not talk, I’m here.”

I nodded, the exhaustion of everything that had happened weighing heavily on me. But for the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn’t drowning in it all. Chris was here, and I wasn’t alone.

And for now, that was enough.

“Chris,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, “I never meant for any of this to happen. I never meant to let myself get this far.”

“I know,” he replied softly, his fingers brushing through my hair. “But it’s not your fault. You’re not to blame for the things that have happened to you. You’ve been through more than anyone should have to go through.”

I sighed deeply, the weight of his words sinking into me. I closed my eyes, a tear slipping down my cheek despite my best efforts to hold it in. I could feel his hand on my cheek, wiping away the tear.

The room felt heavy, the silence between us thick with unspoken things. I had shared the worst parts of myself with Chris—the parts of me I had been hiding, the parts I hadn’t dared to look at in years. But as the words left my mouth, I realized how much more there was to say, how much I had buried beneath the surface. And now, with Chris here, his steady presence beside me, it felt like the dam inside me had broken open.

Chris didn’t speak immediately, but I could feel his anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. It was there in the way his jaw tightened, in the way his fingers gently squeezed mine, as if he were trying to hold me together while trying to contain the fury building inside him.

“You’re safe now, (Y/N),” he said softly, but there was a strain in his voice. “But I want to know more. I need to know what happened… all of it.”

I looked up at him, the room dim in the evening light, but his eyes were bright with the weight of his emotions. “I don’t know if I can…” My voice wavered, as if speaking the words out loud might make them more real, more permanent. “I don’t know how to tell you.”

He didn’t rush me. He just sat there, steady, waiting. “You don’t have to do it all at once, but I’m here, and I want to hear it. Whatever you’re ready to share.”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat like a stone that wouldn’t budge. It was too much, too overwhelming. But his patience, the way he was just there—unwavering—made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I could say it.

I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my shaky breath. “He’s… he’s still hitting me.” The words slipped out like daggers, sharp and jagged, and I couldn’t take them back.

Chris’s face twisted in disgust, his eyes blazing with something darker, something I couldn’t quite place. His grip on my hand tightened to the point of pain, but I didn’t want him to let go. “What do you mean, still?” he spat, his voice trembling with anger. “What the hell do you mean, still hitting you? After everything? After all these years?”

I flinched, the pain of his words stinging more than I expected, but not in a bad way. Chris was angry—for me, for the things I had endured—and I needed that anger. It was the first time someone had ever been angry for me.

“He doesn’t care. He never did. He doesn’t care that I’m his daughter.” I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes again, the tightness in my chest making it hard to breathe. “I don’t know what to do. He’ll always come back. He won’t stop.”

“God, I’m so fucking mad at him right now,” Chris growled, slamming his fist down on the bed between us. “How could anyone do that to you? I don’t care if he’s your dad—no one should ever lay a finger on you. No one.”

I could see the pain in his eyes, the rage that burned there, but it was mixed with something else too—something softer. Concern, protectiveness, the desire to shield me from all of it.

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips as the tears started to fall. “He just… he can’t stop, Chris. He gets drunk, and then it’s like he doesn’t even see me anymore. He just sees someone to hurt. And I don’t know how to make it stop. I don’t know how to get out.”

I could feel the panic rising in me again, that familiar, overwhelming sense of suffocation creeping in like it always did when I thought about the fear of being stuck, of being trapped in that life. The life where I wasn’t safe, where I wasn’t even allowed to feel like I mattered.

Chris’s voice became softer, almost a whisper, but it was full of resolve. “You don’t have to go back to him, (Y/N). You don’t have to live like that. I won’t let you.” His hands gently cupped my face, as though he were trying to steady me, trying to pull me back from the edge I felt myself teetering on. “You deserve so much more than this, and I swear to you, I’m going to help you get out of this. We’ll figure it out together.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that things could be different, that I didn’t have to go back to the house that had been my prison for so long. But the doubt gnawed at me, a constant voice in the back of my head telling me that it was all just a dream, that things would never change.

“I don’t know how,” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat again. The panic was slowly building inside me, and I couldn’t stop it. My hands began to shake violently, and I felt like I was drowning in the tightness in my chest. The room began to spin, and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.

“Chris,” I gasped, clutching at his shirt, “I can’t breathe…”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Chris said urgently, his hands moving to my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. “Just focus on me, okay? Focus on me. You’re safe. You’re safe with me.”

But the panic didn’t stop. My chest felt tight, my heartbeat erratic, and I couldn’t seem to calm down. Every breath I took felt shallow, as though the air wasn’t getting into my lungs. I could feel the walls closing in again, just like they did every time I let myself think about what my dad had done to me.

I began to tremble uncontrollably, my hands like ice against his warm skin. My head felt light, and I had to fight the overwhelming urge to collapse.

“Chris, I can’t…” I whispered between gasps, feeling the world slipping away from me. “I’m scared. I’m scared of what will happen if I can’t get away. I’m scared of him coming after me, of never being free.”

Chris’s eyes were frantic now, but he was still holding me steady, his voice unwavering. “You’re not alone in this, (Y/N). I won’t let you go through this alone, okay? You’re safe now. You’re with me. We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

He moved his hands down to my back, rubbing slow circles as he whispered over and over again, “Breathe. Just breathe. In… out… You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. I won’t let him hurt you again. I won’t let him hurt you anymore.”

I tried to focus on his voice, to let the steady rhythm of his words ground me, but my body wouldn’t stop shaking. My breath was still shallow, and I felt like I was drowning in the memories, in the fear of my dad’s hands on me, of his voice shouting at me, of the pain I’d felt when he told me I wasn’t worth anything.

But then, slowly, my breath started to steady. The panic began to recede, and I was left trembling in Chris’s arms, my chest heaving, but the overwhelming tightness starting to fade.

“You’re okay,” Chris said softly, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “You’re here with me. You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere.”

I closed my eyes, clinging to him like he was the only thing that could keep me from falling apart. But as much as I tried to believe it—tried to believe him—there was still a part of me that felt like I was trapped. Still a part of me that didn’t know how to escape the life I’d been born into.

But with Chris’s arms around me, his warmth seeping into me, I felt like maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something different.

The room felt quieter now, the oppressive weight of my panic slowly lifting as Chris’s steady presence calmed the storm inside me. His arms, strong but gentle, still wrapped around me, and for the first time since I’d entered his house, I felt a sense of calm begin to settle deep in my chest. The world outside might still be chaotic, but here, in this space with him, I was allowed to be broken. I didn’t have to hide. And for once, that thought didn’t scare me—it comforted me.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, my voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to freak out on you like that.”

Chris shook his head softly, pulling me a little closer. “You don’t ever have to apologize for that,” he said quietly, his voice calm but firm, as if wanting to erase the guilt I felt. “You’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling. I’m just glad you’re here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

I leaned into him, feeling his warmth seep through the thin fabric of my hoodie. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear was grounding. It was like listening to the sound of something real and tangible, something that wasn’t connected to the chaos that always seemed to follow me. His love, his presence—everything about him was real, and it was one of the only things I felt I could rely on.

The minutes stretched on, and gradually, the shaking in my body slowed. My breath deepened, and though I still felt raw, the sharpness of the panic attack had dulled into a more manageable ache. It was as though, piece by piece, I was learning to breathe again.

“Are you feeling better?” Chris asked after a moment, his voice low and careful, as if afraid to disturb the delicate balance we had found. He pulled back slightly to look at me, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.

I nodded, but my voice still trembled. “Yeah… just a little… dizzy. But better. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Chris murmured, wiping a stray tear from my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I’m just glad I could help. You’re not alone, (Y/N). You never will be again.”

I swallowed hard, trying to suppress the lump in my throat. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “You’ve always been there for me, Chris. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“Stop saying that,” he said firmly, his tone soft but resolute. “You’ve always deserved it. You deserve every bit of love and care in the world, (Y/N). You deserve to feel safe. You deserve to heal.”

His words lingered in the air between us, and for a moment, I felt a wave of gratitude rush over me. It was hard for me to accept that kind of love, to believe I was worthy of it, but I didn’t want to push him away anymore. Not when he was trying so hard to give me something I’d never had before.

We sat there for a while, neither of us saying much, just being in each other’s presence. It felt like time had slowed down in the most comforting way possible. The panic that had felt suffocating now seemed like a distant memory, and I realized, with a twinge of bittersweetness, how much I had missed moments like this. Moments where I didn’t have to pretend to be something I wasn’t.

Chris cleared his throat after a while, breaking the silence. “You know, I’ve missed this,” he said quietly, his fingers gently tracing the back of my hand. “I’ve missed having you around. I missed having you sleep over.”

My heart skipped a beat at his words. The memories of spending nights at his house, hiding away from the world, were so much clearer now. There was comfort in those late-night talks, in the sound of his brothers’ laughter echoing through the house, in the feeling of being part of something that wasn’t broken. Something that made me forget the things I had to escape at home.

“I missed it too,” I replied, the words escaping before I could stop them. “It was the only time I felt like… like I had a family, you know? Like I was safe.”

Chris’s gaze softened, and for a moment, I could see the tenderness in his eyes. “You are family, (Y/N),” he said. “You always have been. You’re just as much a part of us as Matt, Nick, and me. Don’t ever doubt that.”

I felt a lump in my throat at his words. It was hard to accept that kind of care, but somehow, with him, it didn’t feel as impossible. It felt like it might actually be real. “You guys were always the closest thing to family I had,” I said, my voice quieter now. “When I stayed at your house, it was like everything else faded away. Like I could breathe for the first time in so long.”

“I know,” he said, his voice soft, yet tinged with an almost protective edge. “That’s why I want you to come over more. And stay as long as you want, okay?”

I nodded, the idea of having a constant refuge growing more and more appealing. “I really appreciate you, Chris. More than you know.”

He smiled then, a small, soft smile, but it was enough to make my heart flutter. “You don’t need to thank me,” he said, reaching over and squeezing my hand gently. “You’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it.”

The words hung between us, and for a moment, I let myself believe them. I had spent so long thinking I wasn’t worthy of love, of care, but with Chris, it felt like I might just be wrong.

Chris then leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I was thinking… if you’re comfortable with it, you could sleep over tonight. We have a guest room, but if you want, you can sleep in my room too. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”

The thought of sleeping under the same roof as him, of being so close to him, made my heart race in ways I didn’t quite understand yet. But the idea of being in a space where I could truly rest—without the constant tension and fear of home—sounded like a dream.

“I… I’d like that,” I said softly, the words barely leaving my lips before Chris’s face broke into a smile.

“Good,” he said, his voice warmer now. “It’s settled, then. You’re staying.”

I smiled back at him, feeling a surge of appreciation flood through me. “Thank you. Really.”

Chris leaned in to kiss the top of my head, his breath warm against my hair. “You’re welcome. Now, go get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

The night was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning, the occasional creak of the house settling, and the faint sounds of traffic from outside. The room was dimly lit, soft moonlight streaming through the curtains. I stood by Chris’s door, my fingers tracing the edge of the frame, unsure of what to do next.

Chris had already prepared the guest room for me. The bed was neatly made, the pillows fluffed. But as I stood there, I realized something—something I hadn’t admitted to myself until now: I didn’t want to sleep alone. Not tonight. Not after everything that had happened.

I glanced over at Chris, who was sitting on the edge of his bed. His eyes were soft, yet filled with that familiar protectiveness I had come to rely on. He’d given me the option of sleeping in the guest room, but he didn’t press it. He just watched me, waiting for me to make up my mind. And somehow, that quiet patience made everything feel a little easier.

“Are you sure?” he asked gently, his voice low. “You don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

I nodded slowly, swallowing the knot in my throat. “I want to stay with you,” I whispered. The words felt vulnerable, like I was admitting something I’d been too afraid to admit even to myself. But as I looked at him, something in me softened. I didn’t have to be afraid here. Not with him.

Chris didn’t respond right away. He just smiled a little, that soft, comforting smile of his, the one that always made me feel like maybe everything wasn’t so broken after all. He patted the bed beside him, a simple invitation. “Come on then. Get comfortable.”

I hesitated, standing there in the middle of the room, still holding the hem of my oversized hoodie, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety. I had spent so many nights alone in my own bed, trying to sleep through the memories of my father’s anger, the shouts, the pounding fists, the feeling of being trapped in a house that never felt like home. But tonight, I wasn’t alone. Not really.

I crawled into the bed, my body feeling stiff, not quite sure what to do next. Chris kept his distance at first, settling in on his side of the bed, turning on his side to face away from me. His back was to me, but I could feel the space between us. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t the closeness I longed for either. I needed something more than distance, more than just his presence across the room.

I reached out tentatively, my hand brushing the edge of his shirt, and in a soft whisper, I said, “Chris?”

His body tensed for a split second, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, his voice was low, a little rough. “Yeah?”

“I… I don’t want to be alone tonight,” I said, barely able to form the words. The truth was, I was scared. Scared of the nightmares that might come, scared of the darkness and what it might bring. But more than that, I was scared of being vulnerable, of needing someone and not knowing how to ask for it.

Chris’s response was immediate. He turned around slowly, facing me, his expression soft, understanding. He didn’t say anything right away, but instead, he reached out, gently guiding me toward him. “You’re not alone, (Y/N). Not anymore,” he whispered, his voice full of conviction.

It wasn’t like I was scared—no, that wasn’t it—but there was a strange sense of comfort in being this close to someone who truly cared. Still, the distance between us remained for a moment, and I couldn’t help but feel a little unsure of myself.

Chris didn’t press, though. He just stayed where he was, pulling the covers up around him. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but I found myself inching closer, seeking the warmth of his body, the connection I had been craving but too scared to ask for.

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him moving toward the small dresser by the bed. He started to unbutton his shirt, unaware that I was watching.

The suddenness of it made my heart skip a beat. My gaze followed his every movement, captivated by the way his body moved as he shed his shirt. He wasn’t being flashy or deliberate; it was just natural for him, the way he carried himself with a quiet confidence that made my stomach twist in the best way. I could see the muscles in his back shift as he pulled the shirt over his head, his toned body now exposed to the dim light of the room.

I hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected the moment of stillness where I could appreciate him in his simplest form. He wasn’t trying to impress me, wasn’t posing or playing it up. It was just him.

And for the first time, I truly saw him. The sculpted shoulders, the defined muscles along his arms, the way his skin seemed to glow under the soft light, the gentle curve of his back. Everything about him was perfect. So perfectly human, so real, that it almost overwhelmed me.

Chris turned toward me then, his chest now bare, and I quickly looked away, my face flushing as I realized I had been staring. But before I could feel embarrassed, I caught him looking at me, that mischievous smile curling up at the corners of his lips.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice teasing but with an underlying softness. He knew exactly what I was thinking.

I swallowed, trying to find words. “I, uh… you look perfect,” I mumbled, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

He chuckled, not at all fazed by my awkwardness. “You’re the only one who thinks so.” He reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down with ease and slipping into a fresh pair before sliding back into bed beside me.

But there was a softness in his movements now, a tenderness that came with his willingness to let me see him—let me in. He wasn’t just showing me his body, but his trust. And that meant more than anything.

As he settled back into bed, he turned toward me, the space between us finally closing as he reached out a hand. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his voice so gentle that it made my heart ache.

I nodded, this time more certain. “I’m okay. I just… I missed being close to someone. To you.”

And then, he opened his arms.

I didn’t hesitate this time. My heart pounded in my chest, and with a mix of relief and hesitance, I scooted closer, curling up against his chest. The warmth of his body was comforting, a quiet reassurance that I wasn’t in this fight alone. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me in, his embrace tight but not suffocating. I felt his breath on the top of my head, steady and rhythmic, like a heartbeat.

For a moment, everything felt safe. The chaos of my mind, the pain of my past, all of it seemed to fade away as I listened to the sound of Chris’s heartbeat, the steady thrum of life that was so different from the anger and fear I’d been accustomed to. He was here, and for tonight, that was enough.

I let out a long, shaky breath, feeling my body relax in his arms. But I still couldn’t help the thoughts that crept into my mind—the way I felt so small in his arms, how much I had lost, and how little I had ever felt cared for. But then, as if sensing my discomfort, Chris moved slightly, adjusting his position so that we were closer, my head resting on his chest. His hand gently began to stroke my hair, his fingers threading through the strands in a slow, comforting rhythm.

His fingers continued to gently play with my hair, and I could feel the soft, steady rhythm of his hand. It was so soothing, the motion familiar in a way I couldn’t explain. It felt like home, like something I’d been searching for without even knowing it. His scent, that familiar cologne mixed with the clean scent of soap, enveloped me, and for the first time in so long, I felt like I could breathe.

His hand reached for mine then, his fingers lacing with mine in the quiet dark of the room. The simple connection was grounding, and as he pulled me closer, I felt something shift. I had been running from the past for so long, so afraid of what was behind me that I hadn’t realized how desperate I was for the present. For someone who cared.

“Your hair smells so good,” I said quietly, a small smile tugging at my lips. I had never noticed how comforting his scent was before. It was like a reassurance I hadn’t realized I needed.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine. “It’s just shampoo,” he teased, but I could tell he was pleased by my words. He continued to play with my hair, the action so tender that it almost made me feel like I was someone worth caring for.

“It’s not just shampoo,” I said softly, lifting my head a little to look at him. “It’s you. You’re… comforting, Chris. It’s like… I feel safe when I’m with you.”

I leaned my head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath me calming the frantic pulse of my own. His arm wrapped around me as I settled more fully against him. I could feel his breath on the top of my head as he shifted, pulling me just a little closer.

“You know, I could get used to this,” I said, the words slipping out before I could fully process them. “I missed sleeping over at your house… when I could just escape home for a bit.”

Chris stiffened for a moment, as if processing my words. Then, he ran his fingers through my hair gently, his touch so soft that it almost felt like he was tracing the contours of my soul.

“I know,” he said quietly. “You’re welcome here anytime, (Y/N). Don’t ever feel like you can’t come over. It was never about just ‘hanging out,’ you know? I care about you. I always have.”

My chest tightened at his words, the weight of them sinking deep inside me. I closed my eyes, trying to take in the comfort of his embrace, trying to let myself believe him. I could feel the warmth of his body against mine, the quiet strength that emanated from him, and it made me feel safe in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

The words settled in my heart like a balm, soothing the wounds that had never quite healed. I felt his fingers moving slowly through my hair again, and this time, there was no rush. Just us, wrapped in the quiet security of knowing that we didn’t have to face the world alone.

As the night stretched on, I felt myself relax more, his steady breath and gentle touch lulling me into a peaceful stillness. He kept playing with my hair, his hand brushing over my forehead, smoothing out any lingering tension. The rhythm of his movements was comforting, and I found myself drifting, my eyelids growing heavier as I rested against his chest.

“I don’t ever want to leave,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper now, sleep creeping in.

“You don’t have to,” Chris replied softly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Stay as long as you need.”

And with that, I let myself fall into the warmth of his embrace, the first true rest I’d had in what felt like a lifetime.

“I don’t deserve you,” I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips, but somehow, they felt true.

Chris pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt my chin up so I could see his face. “You deserve everything, (Y/N). More than you know. Don’t ever forget that.”

I felt a lump form in my throat, but instead of pushing it down, I let it rise. Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at him, my heart aching with the need to express how much his words meant to me.

“You’re too good to me,” I said, voice breaking. “I don’t know how to repay you for all of this.”

He smiled softly, brushing a stray tear away from my cheek. “You don’t need to repay me. Just… let me be here for you. That’s all.”

His voice was so steady, so comforting, and as he pulled me back into his chest, I felt everything fall into place. For the first time in years, I didn’t feel so alone.

With Chris by my side, I had everything I needed.

A/N: Hey, loves! 💖 First off, thank you so much for making it this far. Your support honestly means the world to me, and I can't thank you enough. I know this chapter feels a little more low-key and maybe even rushed—life’s been a bit chaotic on my end—but I really wanted to take the time to dig deeper into the characters and their emotions. A special thanks to @bernardsbendystraws for being such an inspiration to this fic. You’ve truly helped shape the direction of this story!

This chapter touches on some really heavy topics, especially around eating disorders, and I hope it gets recognition! It's a difficult subject to navigate, but it's so important to shed light on it. I appreciate all of you who stick with me and support these moments in the story. You all keep me going!

If you or someone you care about is struggling with anorexia, please reach out to the helpline at [National Eating Disorders Association Helpline: 1-800-931-2237 or text "NEDA" to 741741]. You are not alone, and there is always support available when you need it.

taglist: @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44

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[palmastrings]

Solomon and Levi play Beat saber

For @ificouldbringyouback

@obeymeholidayexchange

The song used for this is called "Crazzee Boi". Feel free to listen to that

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

Solomon, for the first time in a while, had finally gotten a day off this weekend that wasn't saturated in RAD homework or cleaning up the messes of his demonic or angelic neighbors. Usually, on days like this, he'd resign himself to some cooking, maybe some magical research or experiments, challenging Thirteen to a ‘friendly’ game over his life candle, or simply enjoying the weather, perhaps in the human world. Solomon laid back in bed, musing over the potential activities he could schedule for the day. What did it matter? He had all day to think about it, no need to rush. Solomon fumbled with his DDD, reaching out for it in the darkness of his room. 

It was only 7 am.

 Solomon smiled and tucked himself under his covers, safe from the colder air of his room, and gently placed his DDD back on his nightstand humming a song of sleep to himself.

No sooner had he done that, his DDD rang incessantly.

Solomon reached back for his device to be met with Leviathan's name and his hilariously assigned profile picture of his stressed face while losing a game of chess to Solomon – a game that Leviathan had challenged him to. Picking up the phone, he answered.

“Hello?”

“Solomon, hey! I'm kinda impressed you answered, tbh. You never really seemed like the morning-type to me. Uh, anyways, glad you picked up. You aren't busy today, right?”

Solomon thought for a moment. “You've actually caught me on one of my off days, so yeah, I can make some time. What is it you need?”

“Can you head over here in a few hours? I'll tell you why once you get here.”

 And with that, Levi hung up. Solomon wasn't sure why Levi would withhold the reason for requesting his company unless Levi felt like Solomon would disapprove in any other situation. He’d humor him, though. 

Solomon rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched. His body made a plethora of back-breaking sounds that any person would find very squeamish to hear. Ah, the consequences of old age. He started his shower cold, brushed out his white hair with less care than Asmo would approve of, and dressed in more casual clothes than he would normally find himself wearing on a busy day. By the time he cooked and served himself his signature breakfast of his secret ingredient red pancakes and aged, burn-to-a-crisp mini griffin eggs, the time had come for him to head out and meet Levi.

Oddly enough, he found Levi waiting for him at the main entrance of the House of Lamentation. Levi wore uncharacteristically athletic clothing with an anime-themed headband around his forehead, his bangs hiding whatever character was featured on it. Solomon kinda hoped he wasn't going to run some recreational marathon with Levi. His poor old man bones cant take it. He'd been spending a lot of time at his desk rather than in the great outdoors. Maybe the impending dread of what this could be is a sign for him to get back into shape. Ah, well, at least he’d last longer than Levi in a run.

Levi waved Solomon over. As Solomon approached, Levi handed him a device in each hand.

“I can't believe you made it! I was beginning to doubt you would really make the time to meet me, of all people, here on your day off. You truly are a real one, Solomon.”

“Ahaha, you flatter me, Leviathan, I really don't mind at all. But what am I doing here exactly?”

“Well, I'm so glad you asked, Solomon. I invited you here because one of the games I've been playing recently got a new DLC update, and in order to get all of the achievements, I needed another player.”

“Super, but, out of curiosity, why me?” Solomon asked. “I'm sure your brothers would be just as available to play with you.”

“That's why you're different. I called upon you, The Wise King Solomon, for your magical prowess and efficiency!” Levi exclaimed.

“As per usual,” he sighed. “So, what are we playing?”

Levi held up his PC that he had also brought out with him, featuring the title screen ‘Beat Slayer’.

“Isn't it supposed to be Beat Saber?” Solomon inquired.

“What?”

“Never mind.” It seems the Devildom has its own version of human games.

Levi spoke again, “Okay, so the rules are pretty simple. You're gonna hold two sabers in your hands. Music will play in the background while little demonic cubes with teeth fly at you following the rhythm of the music,”

“Wait, wha-”

“You also need to dodge the walls and avoid hitting the bombs. It's pretty self-explanatory. Oh, and you also gain bonus points if you imbue magic into your attacks when the beat drops. Got it? Great!” Levi then proceeded to hand Solomon some enchanted glasses, then ran over to his PC to set things up.

“Aren't there supposed to be VR headsets? What's with these glasses?”

Levi replied while still facing the laptop. “Uh, no? Those glasses are just for setting up the background. It's aesthetic. By the way, I'm putting this on extra hard mode so just be aware you might actually get hurt when doing this.”

“They're real?”

“On any other difficulty they would be illusions, but I need this achievement on the highest difficulty so the game actually summons creatures to fight, walls, etcetera.”

“That sounds like a liability concern.”

“It's Hell, nobody really does that here lol.”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Solomon slipped on the glasses as Levi prepared to start, equipped with his own sabers.

It was a magical sight to behold, which says a lot seeing how much Solomon had witnessed. The world glowed an ethereal purple hue, slowly beating to a non-rhythm. Beams of light danced aimlessly, without music to follow. Two yellow sabers illuminated in his hand like bars of gold. Mammon had probably used these before him. 

He knew he was still in the front yard of the House of Lamentation, but here, the world felt otherworldly, an open plane of soft light swimming across his field of vision.

“Ready?” Levi asked.

“Ready as I'll ever be for my first try.” Solomon smiled.

Oh I think you're crazy Can't have my love

The first cube came, and, as Levi foretold, came fast with a row of awaiting teeth. Solomon struck through it and followed a line of light so he could slash the second one and the few that came after it. Levi, beside him, moved in sync, their movements mimicking each other.

Oh I think you're crazy Can't have my heart So crazy boy

This didn't seem so terrible, Solomon noted. Not that the thought would last for long, as off in the distance, a barrage of attacks came hurling towards the both of them.

Mohm eh buhl tah oleui nun Guh ttam that fire Mah-eum jahkoo ttulyuh suh Geh sok olyuh higher Ee tah go boh yuh jool soo in nun b boi swag You think you got it but boy I got it like that

“Bonus points, Solomon, get ready!” Levi called. 

Solomon turned to face Levi. Levi stood there with his arms reeled back. His eyes under his glasses glowed orange, with an aura that Solomon could only recognize when Levi was feeling super intense. Looking back at Levi’s saber, Solomon noticed splashes of water appearing out of the air.

 ‘Right, Levi commands the sea, so it makes sense that most of his spells would be water-related’.

 Although that brought the drawback of Solomon's magic being slightly weaker near the presence of the ocean. He figured he’d be fine. Solomon readied himself, feeling the familiar spark of magic in the palms of his hands. He squeezed the handle of his sabers tightly. Finally, when the cubes came close enough, the two were in sync as they struck down. From his peripheral vision, Solomon could see a wave of water follow Levi’s swing, and it effortlessly carved the cube in twain. Solomon followed suit, a glimmer of silver light echoed in his slash. This was a lot more fun than he expected going into this. A side step to the left, and a wall sped by him. 

While most people would be content to brush Levi off for his deemed “childish” hobbies, there was real value in the games he played, whether that be the stories they tell, or the competitive fire that set ablaze in his bones. Something was always new when you visited Levi, it's a shame that Levi tended not to see these qualities in himself like others have.

Myuh ppun ee ruhn mahl hae yah dweh nun deh Turn it up, listen up (okay)

A bomb raced down the path, and the sorcerer only had a second to react and move out of the way. It just barely grazed his hair before it blew up a few feet behind him. The bombs were terribly sensitive. The flames of the explosion didn't touch him though. When he turned back, a wall of water created a barrier between the detonation and Solomon. While Solomon wasn't necessarily worried about the explosion to begin with – he always walks around with a protective spell on him for any and all occasions – he was grateful for Levi's quick reaction time. He turned to him, and they both gave each other a mutual nod of thanks. The music continued playing. Slash 1, 2, 3 cubes, sidestep the wall, avoid the 1, 2, 3 bombs. The lightshow around them beat brighter and faster with the music, and the aimless rays of light from earlier finally moved with purpose.

 Muhn chah boneh ji mah I'm sick and tired of you blowing up My jeonhwa cchok pal ee ji doh an hae Ee tah go boh yuh jool soo in nun play boi swag You think you got it no boy I got it like that

Solomon could feel the sweat gather around his neck. If Levi had told him he’d be so active, he wouldn't have worn a turtleneck. Levi, meanwhile, seemed great. As unathletic as he is, the desire to earn this achievement outclassed his need to stay confined to the comfort and safety of his room. He was actually quite elated to be able to do something like this with someone who seemed to match his own vigor at wanting to win this game. Levi called the dormant magic within him, it bubbled out and came crashing down in walls of water, decimating anything that came to him with a single, clean stroke. Likewise, Solomon put the strength of 1,000 years of sorcery into his own strikes.

As the song neared its end, they kept up the pressure; it became harder to keep up the pace. A cube almost bit a chunk out of Levi’s shoulder if Solomon had not stabbed it, and at this point, the explosions became a constant every few seconds as the music sped up faster. Until finally…

Oh I think you're crazy Can't have my love Oh I think you're crazy Can't have my heart So crazy boy Oh I think you're crazy Can't have my love Oh I think you're crazy Can't have my heart So crazy boy

Together, calling upon the final burst of magic they had, they struck the final cube right down the middle as it burst into sparks as it passed behind them. They both heaved for breath. Solomon wiped the sweat that had accumulated on his face, while Levi almost collapsed on the ground. Levi slipped off his glasses and made his way to his PC. He cheered gleefully at whatever was on his screen. Solomon could only assume it was his newest achievement. He found himself smiling with Levi too. For being a totally unplanned event, this day off ended up being an irreplaceable memory. The little things like this are what made Solomon's life truly worth living to its fullest. He wouldn't have it any other way.

[admiral-mason]

pspspspspsps hi uhhh first time requesting umumumumum

Sagau but reader have played WonderEnd 0 (my current hyperfixation aaaaaaaaa), favorite/chosen ending is the bad ending. NULLan and the phantasmas will not hesitate to not only help reader escape, but also torment reader's tormentors psyche. NULLan may or may not turn half of the population into phantasmas lmao (can also include entities from the abyss and the hilichurls :3 ).

I watched some gameplay of WonderEnd 0 prior to this (here's a link to a playlist of no commentary gameplay), and, uh...

Damn the game is messed up, I won't spoil anything but the protagonist is highly tormented in the series, with one of the endings leading to downright su!c!de (if you can decipher that word)

Thankfully, this individual is focusing on the other ending. Which is better for our protagonist (he gets to live), but probably bad for everyone else...

Anyways, onwards!

Warning: Torture

You never knew you would ever see this place.

Teyvat, despite its lack of technological advances compared to the current era, resembled a dream world with its depictions of bygone eras of human history mixed with unnatural forces compared to the drab, destruction-plagued era Earth underwent in the past few centuries.

Genshin Impact, for its luck-intensive gacha game nature, obtained a spot in your mind as a game for reprisal. When you required space to get away from the necessities of life, the game helped you escape responsibilities for a little bit longer.

Then you decided to explore the fandom via the internet and descended upon a relatively unknown branch of Genshin, known as SAGAU. Delving into the primarily Tumblr-centralized works, you found it interesting to become the average Isekai protagonist among Teyvat.

Maybe you would tell everyone to stop calling you 'Your Grace' or some other holy title like that. You are but a regular human after all. Aside from that, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to play the role of a divine god capable of creating Teyvat.

And you did get a chance to play that role...

But you never expected it to be like this.

You don't recall how much time has passed ever since you arrived.

Upon stepping foot into Mondstadt, the nation of freedom, you were branded an impostor, a fraud, a heretic, any term for one pretending to be another just like in those Impostor AU Tumblr works.

Everyone was against you; the Knights of Favonius, Diluc, Mona, they just apparently decided that you're a fucking con artist for simply existing. If you knew this would come to you before, you would have deleted the game and moved on with your life.

Unfortunately, those were past events and you needed to run at that moment. Never in your life had you run like an athlete, hell you never required such a physical-minded body. But anything less would result in cuts by a sword or an arrow landing in your back, so you ran.

Thankfully, not all sought to see you dead; Hilichurls, Abyssal beings, and animals assisted you throughout the rampaging hunt. From bringing you food or resuscitating your stamina to providing you weapons, you found unlikely companionship among these normally hostile enemies.

Their efforts helped you reach Liyue, although unfortunately they too decided that you were a fraud attempting to deceive Teyvat for their own gain. Having the Millelith, the Liyue Qixing, and the Adepti all working together against you was definitely not fun for you. However, it was here that someone or something else decided to help you.

One time, a few Millelith guards had you cornered in Liyue Harbor, and Ningguang herself approached you.

"I must say you are very persistent in your perseverance against our efforts to capture you. But alas, I believe your journey ends here. Don't make this any harder than we want now."

And then it happened.

You saw your vision glitch like a computer suffering errors for a split second. And then, a figure dressed in black clothing stood between you and your pursuers. They pulled out a glowing and glitching yellow slip of paper.

They let it go and it floated above them, before glowing brighter and glitching your vision again for another second. After that, the figure still stood in its position, but everyone else lay on the floor. You blinked once in that moment and the figure disappeared. Wasting no more time, you escaped, surviving to live another day.

The same thing occurred in all the other nations. In Inazuma, the figure saved you from the Raiden Shogun's Musou no Hitotachi. However, this time the sky's color changed from night blue to blood red, with what appeared to be a giant eye with even smaller eyes surrounding it, with a ring of geometric shapes surrounding them. Akin to the encounter in Liyue, the abnormalities dissipated as quickly as they appeared.

In Sumeru, it was what appeared to be a stringed puppet with the appearance of a woman. She stood before you, holding you akin to a mother with her child. Her eyes were devoid of features, yet her lips formed a smile that radiated sweet dreams.

Fontaine and Natlan were the same; in Fontaine, the figure was accompanied by a group of strange spider-like creatures with a body akin to a bee, while in Natlan they were accompanied by a tall, lanky humanoid figure. Said figure had red eyes, a larger head, black holes with white dots covering the said head, and an unnerving grin that held no hostility to you.

You didn't even bother with Snezhnaya, since the nation wasn't even released yet and you didn't want to bother risking trekking into unknown territory. Thus, after all the chasing and abnormal encounters, you decided to simply rest at a Hilichurl camp in a forest and head to sleep.

"Hey, can you hear me?"

A soft male voice woke you from your slumber, and you immediately noticed something wrong with your environment.

It's not a forest at all, hell you doubt this is even Teyvat anymore. Instead, you awoke in a dark environment surrounded by dark figures with glowing white dots for eyes. Others had a singular, multicolored eye with bunny-like bodies.

And above all of them was a seriously massive black eye with red markings, angel wings, and a binary halo.

You also noticed something about your positioning.

You are upright in someone's lap. A very very comfortable lap at that.

Looking up, you saw a familiar face with black hair, a black halo, and two purple eyes, the left one glowing.

"...Holy shit Alan??" You said, mostly bewildered but also slightly exhausted (you just woke up after all). Alan simply smiled in response.

He chuckled a little before gently stroking your hair. "Hi again, graceful player. I never thought I'd see you again after you... got lost in this world, but it didn't take me too much work to end up here."

You picked up WonderEnd 0 a few days before the moment you were involuntarily thrust into Teyvat. Safe to say, you could tell that Alan was a cinnamon roll that the game just likes to fuck over in every single way possible. The "good ending" horrified you, and the "bad ending" made you a little uneasy. You definitely preferred the latter ending a lot more though.

The Alan you're seeing here is clearly the bad ending one, although his expression isn't one of cold-heartedness and snark, but rather a gentle one you saw akin to that of the puppet.

You had to ask him something. "Are you the one who-"

"Before you ask, yes. I was the one who assisted you along with the Phantasmas. I will not stand by while the one who guided me in times of distress is subjected to unjust subjugation by religious fanatics."

"Yeah, as if you could do it by yourself, Alan."

Someone else then appeared beside you two. They looked like Alan before the bad ending but with a halo, and their voice was deeper than Alan's.

"Is that Null?" You asked, and they responded. "Yes, you're right, player. I am Null, AKA the computer virus that helped Alan ascend to my level."

"Shut up Null, you are cringe," Alan responded with a smirk. Null's face then morphed into one of agitation.

"I AM NOT CRINGE!!!" Null yelled, but Alan kept going. "Says the one who requires a human body to even use their full power. Couldn't be me."

"GRRRRRRRR ALAN I AM GOING TO KILL YOU AND KILL YOU FOR THAT!"

You laughed a little at the little discourse between the two, and both of them turned to you. "What?" You asked, slightly clueless to your actions.

"...Protect the cinnamon roll of a player?"

"Protect the cinnamon roll of a player, Null."

Meanwhile, oblivious to you, your tormentors have become the tormented.

Everyone who dared even possess the mere thought of attacking or killing you suffered terrible nightmares, ranging from wandering in a long hallway with featureless human-like figures to attempting to dodge monsters filled with devices no one understood.

The Knights of Favonius frantically attempt to utilize a box-like device and are slaughtered by a disfigured blue mass.

The Millelith, Qixing, and Adepti painfully attempt to navigate the never-ending hallways while being chased down by a pale-skinned man in a suit with a black, featureless head.

The Raiden Shogun and her Shogunate army must painfully stand still akin to mannequins under the watchful and menacing gaze of the Eye.

The Akademiya struggle to play a never-ending song for a stringed woman who never suffers any form of physical abuse.

The Maison Gardiennage question their motives of justice as they are slaughtered by four-legged bee-like creatures, only to be revived once again to endure further suffering.

And the champions of war are merciless to a being with the grip strength of the moon's density as it crushes their skulls.

Teyvat had tried to deprive both Alan and Null of their player, and it will burn, bleed, but most importantly, suffer.

General Headcanons

Alan and Null bicker on the frequent, and it's funny to hear them do so when they decide to explore humanity's current slang.

"I HAVE MORE SKIBIDI RIZZ THAN YOU ALAN!" - Null

"Shut up Null, your looks are so downright atrocious that even Ohio wouldn't permit you entry" - Alan

"Both of you SHUT UP-" - You

One day, Alan decided to try something new with his nightmares.

"Hey [Name!] Want to see my idea for a nightmare?"

"Huh? Sure!"

So Alan opens up a little portal and...

"SKIBIDI DOP DOP DOP YES YES"

"WHAT THE FUCK ALAN"

When you're not in the dreamscape with the two, you simply hang around with the wild creatures of Teyvat.

Eventually, Alan decided to manifest himself in your world, and thankfully you managed to convince everyone that Alan was friendly you let him lay on your lap to prove it

He and Null help enhance the strength and intimidation factor of Hilichurls, Abyss Mages, and Abyss Lectors. All of a sudden, aside from the constant nightmares plaguing the lands, Teyvat suddenly finds itself encountering stronger and stronger enemies by the day.

They also get creepier designs too. Hilichurls now have soulless fake eyes, Abyss Mages wear disfigured costumes, etc.

However, when it's just you three, and Alan and Null aren't bickering, it's just a relaxing time.

You have not one, but two cinnamon rolls that you just get to cuddle akin to teddy bears. With smiles of contentment.

Overall, you're in heaven, and Teyvat is in hell :)

@a-star-intheabyss enjoy watching everyone suffer nightmares

And also sorry for the last part lmfao

[catreginae]

Okay, now that I'm home, I can elaborate on the Mecha AU really liked but I don't have time for! As a disclaimer, it's been a long time since I last watched a mecha anime so I don't even know why it's a thought my brain is even entertaining.

Anyway.

Time - the commander/leader of the team. He can pilot a mech and sometimes helps the others but he doesn't go into the field anymore. He really wants to just retire for good but since he's the only one who can pilot the Deity mech, he's kind of stuck there in case the world is ending and he needed to get in the seat.

Twilight - a pilot! His mech can shift between a bipedal mode and a quadrupedal mode. He never planned on piloting but he jumped into one to help his village and he's piloting since. Kind of a natural!

Warriors - another pilot! He's been training a long time to be a pilot so he is really good at it but at the same time, Time keeps an eye on him since a couple of missions have gone horribly wrong and Warriors had to take some mental health breaks.

Legend - semi-retired pilot, works more behind the scenes now as support/a handler. He stays in constant contact with whoever out on missions and makes sure they get everything they need. He likes to say he'll only hop into a mech if the world is ending but he also likes to tinker with mechs so he's sometimes in one to test out new weapons or programs.

Four - the group mechanic. He's either maintaining or repairing the group mechs himself or he directs other teams on what to do. In his down time, he likes making new things for the mechs. He knows all the mechs inside and out except for Deity. I think he once wanted to pilot but he ended up being more interested in the engineering side.

Hyrule - semi-retired pilot, works with Legend with support. He also supports the pilots himself with minor first aid. Unlike Legend, he does want to get back into the field but his mech got infected with a nasty computer virus and Four hasn't finished trouble shooting it (this is my twist on the blood curse). He's happy to help where he can.

Sky - full time pilot! Like Warriors, he trained a long time to be a pilot. His mech is relatively normal but it uses a sword Sky just kind of found and nobody is quite sure how it works, but it does a great job at killing things. Sky's mech is the best at flying.

Wind - the youngest pilot and a lot of people quest if somebody so young should even be a pilot but he's the only who figured out how the pilot the King of Red Lions, which is one of the only mechs that can function in water. He's young and new but shows a lot of potential, so he's on the team.

Wild - a pilot who had to go on medical leave for a long time and he's kind of figuring everything out again. He was severely injured from a previous mission with a different team and suffers from amnesia. Nobody expected him to ever be a pilot again but here he is! His mech was partially made with the recycled parts from his old one.

People are free to run with this if it speaks to you. You're free to change things up too. I don't have time for it but I still think it's kind of fun.

[rileyclaw]

i caught hunter’s moving castle disease because of mike’s huntlow art

[ryllen]

said wolf,

🐺

[hplonesomeart]

Hey. Sorry about the inactivity, but pretty sure no one cared that much anyways lol. Been a looooong time since I kept that distant from Tumblr…at least now I know I’m able to survive without checking posts every day/being chronically online! I’ve got an intense love-hate relationship with this lifestyle I’ve dug myself into. Think I’m getting a little bit better with the balance even if school isn’t really giving me an option. Got a load of work I need to keep catching up on if I don’t want to disappoint my professors. We’ll survive somehow. Here take a quick batch of Puzzle doodles k bye

[shannonsketches]

He said "Fuck this shit, I'm out" I'm crying. Toriyama's Vegeta was so top shelf 🤌

(From Neko Majin Z Chapter 5!)

[godisasimp]

So my canon is that Sparkle doesn't exist and actually vita is weirdly flirting with Leyah she's already doing that well i suppose Vita just Vitad her way through everything and everything happened relatively the same and also Kiana is still in a coma playing Elden Ring DLC she was not visited by a pink weirdo.

[memento-morri-writes]

This is far from my best work, but it's 1:30am, and I needed to get this down before I slept or lost my mind. So here, take a snippet of Rook seeing Zara again for the first time in 3 years.

Trying, and failing, to keep his voice from shaking, [Rook] said “Hello, Captain.” Mouth still open in surprise, [Zara] replied “Well, hello yourself.” The reality of what she was seeing seemed to hit her as she rounded the desk. “Rook, is that really you?” He nodded. “It’s me.” Zara ran towards him, stopping just short of touching him, and said “What did she do to you?” Rook’s heart stuttered and he had to brush his fingers together to confirm Sigmar’s ring was still in place. Could she possibly see through its illusion? But then he remembered what Lanny had said. She knew where you were. His throat clenched and he choked out “Two years.” A wave of grief swept across Zara’s face as she said “I’m so, so sorry.” Rook shook his head vigorously. “It’s not your fault.” Zara ignored him. “It is my fault. I failed you. As your captain, it’s my responsibility to keep you safe, and I failed you.” Rook wanted to say something, to reassure her, but she pushed on. “She sent me letters, told me all the terrible things she was doing to you. I… I let you down.” Those words hit Rook with the force of a dozen cannonballs. Lanny had said that Zara knew Wolf had him, but knowing that Zara had been aware of what Wolf was doing to him… somehow that was more painful than any wound Wolf had ever inflicted. He barely managed to force his next words out around the lump in his throat. “Where were you?” And why didn’t you come? “She said she’d kill you if I came to get you. Or if I hired anyone to get you. You’re standing here because I stopped sailing.” 

(honorary one-time tag for @space-writes bc I remember you enjoyed my other bits about Rook and Zara.)

[devotedlystrangewizard]

the school arc to me is so good because it drags ciel out of his position as a powerful figure and literally places him in the shoes of the person he could have been. the circus arc ALSO drags him out of his position as big bad queens watch dog/head of the phantomhive estate but the school arc feels like a mockery of a future that never was. this is what he could have been had his parents not died. and even then its NOT because he will never be that kid.

he never was.

[frobby]

i love madoka magica however i dont think we as a fandom talk enough about how tragic madoka herself is. probably because the narrative itself steers you away from thinking about her personally. shes not a character shes a desire that homura has, shes a force of good, shes homura's foil. but those are all madoka's narrative roles but madoka herself as a person is not really looked at because we are viewing this world from an unreliable narrator(homura) who only sees madoka as those things. The best thing homura could have done for madoka was give up on her, to let her go. because every time we go back in time the image of madoka is distorted, she loses more of herself every regression of homura's as she tries harder and harder to save her. We don't even know what madoka originally wished for to become a magical girl in the original timeline. and she actually acts quite differently than the madoka we meet. shes a lot more honest and caring and bold. by the time homura's has reached the actual anime madoka has been reduced by the sands of time to a figment of herself. she has no wants or desires of her own beyond wanting to do good and help her friends and when all her humanity is stripped away is when she finally acends to godhood because thats all thats left of her. an ideal and a faith in her. madoka kaname died a long time ago and all that is left is her ghost.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

omgg lol [guy who won't stop going "more like scapeGOATED" voice] now hold! on!! lmao [same guy just saw encanto voice] Hold on!!!

[quietwingsinthesky]

there’s a progression in there, somewhere, of even going from ‘the master might kill me any day now :(‘ to ‘the master is going to kill me :) she’s not going to let someone else do it after all this time’

[famewolf]

a shot of whiskey at night has been doing wonders for my nerves. not to sound like I got my prescription from a cowboy-doctor or something, but it's near instant relief

[front-facing-pokemon]