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002yb · 6 months ago

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So I see you subscribe to the Damian and Jason met in the League theory. Therefore, please allow to share this idea that won't leave my head - Damian matchmaking Jason and Dick. Just Damian noticing how much Jason loves romance novels and wanting Jason to have his own romance novel worthy relationship, and deciding Dick is the correct option to work with.

An AU where Jason stays with the League to watch over Damian as his guard and nursemaid caretaker. Damian being besotted because Jason's love for him is fierce and protective and his; because Jason is synonymous with kindness and safety. Jason's is a devotion that is unconditional. He's unapologetic about it, too.

There's no secret in how Jason makes sacrifices for Damian. The challenge he gives, the punishment he takes. Jason goes through hell for Damian. He brings the League to heel for him. Anything, everything, and more to protect this boy.

The love/hate/want Ra's would have for Jason, omg. But that's neither here nor there. Point being: Damian and Jason have a close relationship.

They soothe each other, though Damian doesn't realize what a comfort he is. It feels one-sided to him because Jason is so soft with him. Tough with his love, but patient. Gruff in his kindness, but generous and caring. He's too good for the League. That he stays with Damian, for Damian, is something that Damian struggles to reconcile most days because it indirectly says something about him.

That he's worth it: the love, the affections, the coddling. The safety. The kindness. That Damian must be good, too.

Damian being weighed down by the seeming lack of reciprocity on his end. Because he wants to take care of Jason, too. He wants to make sure Jason is as happy as his caregiver has made him.

It's on one of the rougher days at the League - where they're both beaten and bruised from a fight over the severity of Damian's lessons (where Jason intervened and lashed out on Damian's behalf when Damian couldn't do it himself - all bloodied hands and bruised skin; where Jason was taken to be reprimanded by Damian's grandfather and came back to their quarters limping, but with a crooked smile) that Damian concocts his plan.

Because it would be a routine: Jason reading to him. Damian's head rested on Jason's lap, Jason's fingers scratching through Damian's hair. The lull of Jason's voice drawing Damian to distraction or sleep.

And he would realize that it's not just a routine. It's a hobby. Because Jason is often reading in their spare time when Damian isn't demanding his attention.

So Damian fully listens as Jason reads about adventure and romance. Love stories that make Damian pull faces until his cheeks are pinched in retaliation.

But he listens. And he watches Jason, all the while.

And at some point, Damian resolves that he's going to give Jason a love like out of the novels. He'll find a man worthy - one that's everything of the men that Jason discreetly swoons over and is tickled by.

No one in the League fitting the profile Damian has built. No one anywhere being good enough, in fact.

Until Gotham.

Because, as it turns out? Dick Grayson is everything Jason has ever dreamed of. Funny thing is: he is. Because Dick is Jason's first love. Of course Jason was subconsciously attracted to similar qualities of the love interests in all the novels he read.

But Damian is clueless that it's not that Dick fits the profile he made - Dick is the profile.

So it's comically cute how proud of himself Damian is because there was never anyone other than Dick.

This is where the thoughts drop off, but maybe Bruce 'dies' and the ensuing grief/uncertainty/alienation prompts Damian to reach out to Jason via letter. And they correspond like that for a time. It both soothes Damian and makes his heart ache, but he's resolved to be strong like his caretaker, so he persists.

Dick noticing the consistency of the letters that come in/go out and the positive impact it has on Damian. They seem to ground him, humble him. It makes working with him easier and like that Dick and Damian start building a proper relationship as Batman and Robin.

The way these two would bond over being homesick. Because Dick isn't a stranger to missing people, places, and times they can't go back to. Just Dick becoming this support to Damian; a home away from home.

And it's when that comfort comes about that Damian starts talking about Jason - his beloved.

Which Dick is baffled by because what? Damian is ten.

Which Damian clicks his tongue at because that's his caregiver; his guard. Jason is most dear to him.

They talk about Jason. About what Jason sacrifices for him. About the letters. A slow unraveling of the more vulnerable parts of Damian because Jason makes him soft.

And of course Dick falls in love through hearing Damian's stories. Because Dick might not know this person's name, but he knows they're beautiful: passionate, brilliant, wicked, kind. They're brave in a way few are - steadfast morals and ironclad resolve. They're also endearing with what Damian describes as a sharp tongue and truly scathing wit, ornery and playful. It's clear that Damian's humanity was saved by them, kept safe by them.

The first time Dick and Jason interact being through a letter. It's not even directly addressed to him. It would be something Damian saved from prior correspondence and passes on to Dick who maybe loses part of himself to the cowl and is having a bad go of it.

So Damian gives him this letter that helped him when he was at a low point and Dick isn't expecting anything from it, but then he reads it and it fucks him up. It's soothing and encouraging; puts things into perspective and rekindles hope in his heart, warm and bright.

Dick adds a thank you note alongside Damian's letter the next time Damian mails something. When the reply comes: two envelopes.

The note Dick gets from Jason? Scathing. But in a tough love sort of way that puts a smile on Dick's face because wow, Damian wasn't joking about the mouth on this man. Still, he's charming. And so obviously kind - to write back like this.

It's something Dick should leave alone.

He doesn't.

He writes back, though it's only to talk about Damian - how he's doing, what he's been up to; this and this and this. Everything Dick can think of that Jason would want to know that wouldn't be breaching Damian's trust with him.

And this would be how Dick and Jason become penpals, of sorts. Texting would be easier, but there's something nice about a letter, too.

(Meanwhile Jason, at the League, heart racing because the romance of it, fuck!! ;//////; )

The correspondence persisting. While Damian's always at the forefront of both their thoughts, he's mentioned less. Instead they talk about what they can. Largely mundane until at some point they both realize their letters are pages long and filled with banter and inquiries and postscripts that are too lengthy for what they're meant to be.

There's this oddness to their relationship because they don't know each other's names or faces, but they know each other. And over time, they understand each other, too.

Which is why Dick picks up on how Jason might be homesick, too. Because he's alone in the League and his reason/purpose for staying has gone. More than anything Dick wants to tell Jason to run, to come to him them, but it's not his place. He sends pressed flowers, instead.

(The way Jason's breath catches when they fall from the letter and he realizes what they are. The tender way he'd admire it, smile soft and crooked. He'd hide them in the pages of his books, memories for him to cling to so he won't forget again).

Damian in the periphery, quietly smug but minding his business as he works in the shadows to bring his two most important people together.

Things being good for a time, only to fall apart when Jason's letters taper off, then stop completely.

Safety is a foregone thing in all their lives, but the reality that something might have happened weighs on them. Damian especially, since he's saddled with the regret of not bringing Jason with him from the start (though truth be told, Ra's wouldn't have allowed it).

Oh. When Talia first told Damian he was going, it was with the intention of Damian going alone for all the reasons - meeting his father, learning from Batman, being safe. Jason not being allowed to go even without Damian telling him to stay. And Jason being put in the position to take the fall for Damian being 'taken' from the League. And all the punishment/repercussions of that. Which just escalates over time and reaches a head when those letters get discovered ahhhhhhh.

Jason being used as bait to lure Damian back to the League. A foolproof plan because Damian is soft and seeing what's become of Jason after Damian left him alone is enough to break his heart.

So Damian's ready to give it all up. Only Dick and Jason aren't about that at all. Cue all the rescues and a joint throwdown with Ra's. Something something Dick's brutality and cruel passion piquing Ra's interest and earning some begrudging respect because it's something Ra's understands well. Which...leads to...a tentative truce?

Anyway, when everything is said and done, it's Damian and Jason crumbled to the floor and in each other's arms. It's Jason soothing in that way he does and it's Damian stubbornly biting back tears because he's never been so scared for someone.

And it's Dick walking up to them and Jason catching his eye and for a moment - recognition. For Dick. Almost for Jason.

They're all bloodied, bruised; gasping breaths and aching bones. But it's Dick's breath caught in his throat, his heart beating so hard in his chest that he feels faint. Blinking through the blood in his eyes because - it's Jason. It's his little wing.

(It makes sense. Who else would take on the League to protect another child soldier? Who else loves so profoundly? Deep and compassionate and gentle. Who else sparks hope like this but Robin?)

It was always Jason. Just like how for Jason, it was always Dick.

#dickjay #caretaker!jason #smitten!dick

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megpricephotography · 20 days ago

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It's so tough watching dogs get older... Flynn's had to start a new medication today & oh boy, I'm stressing out about it - hopefully unnecessarily! More under the cut - discussions of blood tests, urine samples, kidney issues, medication...

*UPDATE* 20th Dec also under the cut!!

Longtime followers may remember Flynnie only has 1 kidney. The other one was removed when he was 2.5 yrs old but it'd been effectively non-functional from when he was around 5 months old (due to an abscess forming in it). So for the vast majority of his life, Flynn's had 1 functioning kidney & it's worked like a champ! But. At 11.5 years old, age is perhaps catching up with him. Flynn's last blood test was done a couple of weeks ago & overall, his kidney function is, to use the vet's description: "great". However... for over a year now, we've been monitoring an issue with Flynn's urine. He has protein in his pee & that's not great - it means the fine structures in his kidney aren't filtering properly & as this issue continues, it will inevitably cause kidney damage. So, while Flynn does not currently have "chronic kidney disease"... it's a concern, particularly given at best his kidney function is 50% of a normal dog.

Unfortunately, Flynn's UPC level (the measurement of protein in urine) has risen recently. Not scarily high but vets feel drugs are now needed - especially as, although bloods were generally good, Flynn's blood albumin level (protein in the blood) was really quite low - indicating the loss in his urine is having an impact. He's already on a renal diet, so trying meds is the next step.

Anyway, the drugs are ACE-inhibitors - same stuff as humans take for high BP. The hope is they'll lower blood pressure in the kidney & that will help reduce protein loss. Sadly, meds won't fix the problem 100%, the aim is just to slow things down. I do think starting Flynn on the meds is for the best but I'm stressed because there's a small chance it could actually make things worse. Very occasionally dogs don't react well to ACE-inhibitors & the meds actually cause kidney damage. I'm going to monitor him closely & he'll be having bloods/urine rechecked in a couple of weeks but it's scary! Also... we've had to stop giving Flynn regular NSAIDs for his arthritis pain. He can take paracetamol (tylenol) but regularly combining ACE-inhibitors with NSAIDs increases risk of kidney damage. Once he's hopefully stable on the ACE-inhibitors, I'll ask about trying alternative painkillers - but I don't want to start him on multiple drugs at once. It's tough trying to juggle multiple different factors! I'm aware I'm more twitchy than I used to be about all this because in May 2023, Flynn had an appalling reaction to Librela (actually, that was when we picked up on the issue with his pee). Librela is a new-ish medication & usually a safe way to treat arthritic pain in dogs. It's given as a monthly injection. Flynn had 1 dose & unfortunately, it made him very sick. His bloods were checked a week prior & everything looked good - but within days of the injection, his kidney, liver & pancreas were struggling & he suffered kidney disease type symptoms. Luckily, everything - except the high protein in his urine - fully resolved within 2-3 months but the entire ordeal was awful & logical or not, I felt so guilty about it. I do not want to go through that again!

Anyway, if you've made it this far - thank you! I just needed to write my thoughts down really! For now all I can do is monitor Flynn until he has his next blood test, hope the ACE-inhibitors work well & help his kidney stay relatively healthy & that we can then also find a safe, effective way to keep him physically comfortable for a long time to come. It's just hard because there are no perfect solutions...

*THE UPDATE* Soo… Flynn's been on the new ACE-inhibitor for about 2.5 weeks now. He went in for a blood test on Tuesday & we also checked his urine this week. I got the results today (Dec 20th)… Good news is that his blood work is OK & his worryingly low blood protein level has risen. However… we started him on the new meds specifically to LOWER the amount of protein in his urine & unfortunately, his UPC level has actually gone UP!!! It's higher than ever… It's possible this is a blip, or the meds haven't had time to improve this issue but very occasionally, dogs react badly to it & it can actually reduce kidney function (& increase protein in urine) instead of helping. Anyway, physically, Flynn seems to feeling alright in himself, so that's something. He's actually coping very well off the NSAIDs - paracetamol/tylenol is keeping him comfortable enough. We've been told to carry on with the ACE-inhibitors for now & Flynn's got to go have his blood pressure checked on Dec 30th & I will request they check his pee again then. Guess if he's got worse, we may need to change the type of meds he takes at that point. I am just so stressed - really hoping things have improved by the time we go back to the vets!Gah!!! Pets… why do they get problems over the holidays?!! Think good thoughts for Flynnie!

#flynn #tw: pet illness #dog #border collie

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farfromstrange · 2 years ago

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Daddy Issues | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Inspired by this song.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: There are some scars from our childhoods that just won't heal, like daddy issues will somehow always affect our relationships, especially with men. It's the trauma that makes us afraid. Matt Murdock is a considerate boyfriend and he hardly ever raises his voice, so when he lets his anger out on you, he triggers something in you that you have never told him about.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of child abuse, daddy issues (not the sexy kind), childhood trauma, yelling, crying, small injury (reader cuts her finger), not proofread

A/n: This is entirely self-indulgent. I won't tell you why exactly, but let's just say today was not a good day and I needed to write this to feel better. It helped, for the most part. If you have/had a father who yells a lot and likes to blame you for everything, this is for you. But also basically everyone who's afraid of men yelling at you because you've been traumatized before. This has not been proofread or beta-d. It’s just a silly little comfort fic.

Tags: (people who answered the original idea and I think would enjoy this or asked to be tagged)

@igotanidea @lina-mar @redzie02 @hellskitchens-whore

[not my gif, credits to the owner mentioned under the gif]

In the heat of the moment, some people raise their voices. May it be a fight or a moment of excitement. When we get angry, we often resort to a louder volume and sometimes even verbal abuse. We say things we don’t mean. We wouldn’t be human if that didn’t happen sometimes, although most fights can be resolved by talking civilly. There is no point in screaming when talking like adults is a viable option that won’t hurt anyone. But it hardly ever happens, not when both parties are already worked up to the point of no return.

For you, there has not been a fight or discussion in your life that hasn’t resulted in a screaming match. Your parents often yelled at each other. You grew up like this, the voices of your fighting parents constantly in the back of your head until the day they divorced. And even after that, you figure you started hallucinating their fights whenever the world went quiet around you so you would have some noise in the back of your head.

Your father was the one who screamed the most. He yelled and scolded you whenever you didn’t act according to his standards or made even the smallest of mistakes, didn’t do something or just used the wrong tone with him, something that often didn’t sit right with him.

He always resorted to screaming. The context never really mattered, he just got louder, harsher and he used words that would confuse every kid and make their tiny brains overflow with the guilt they caused. And when you cried, he only waved it off because “there is no reason to cry, I’m just stating the facts”.

It traumatized you in a way many children who grew up in such families understand, and he made you believe that every man in your life has a reason to yell at you, to use you, to abuse you and constantly ask you for things even though you can’t possibly match up to all of their expectations.

You always expect to be yelled at by the men in your life. Even the smallest hint of the disappointment in someone’s voice makes you anxious and more often than not, you start to cry. It’s your defense mechanism. You’re fragile and you get scared easily. A switch gets flicked and you’re suddenly standing in the same house you grew up in, letting your father rain hell down on you because you were too scared to fight back.

The constant screaming made you scared of men, and it made you more careful with what you say or do around others. You tread carefully. You try to please and not to screw up too much, too scared of the consequences and possible negative reactions. In school, you used to do the same, always wanting to please the teachers and when they raised their voices, you often excused yourself and were left shaking and crying in the bathroom.

Matt Murdock has always been a man with a heavy internal conflict, and that conflict resulted in anger issues and his ever-present catholic guilt. When you met him, he came across as attractive yet dominant, and that scared you a little until you talked for the first time in the middle of a cozy coffee shop and he showed how soft of a man he actually is. He keeps himself locked away and that might make him seem unapproachable, but he isn’t. He’s the kindest man you have ever met, and his heart is set right. Out of all the lovers you’ve had, he is truly the best and most considerate when it comes to your relationship.

He treats you like you’re the universe to him and when you fight, it’s more often bickering than it is an exchange of vulgarities and screams. He takes his anger out on punching bags, not you, and when he hurts someone, it’s often criminals who deserve his wrath. His life is complicated, but it’s easier with you in it. He feels alive, he’s told you, and he wouldn’t trade that for the world, so he always makes sure you’re taken care of and happy before he looks after himself.

There is, of course, the issue with his enhanced senses. He’s blind but his senses are enhanced to an extent that most blind people don’t have. You found out about that early on in your relationship, but there’s never been a doubt in your mind about the love you feel for him, so it was no hard choice to stay.

Though dating the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its collection of issues. More often than not you have to stitch him up or search him in dark alleys and trash cans because he keeps getting in trouble, and the worry often eats you alive. Still, you comfort him when he’s had a bad day, always, and you make him the spotlight of your life every time. In your mind, taking care of him comes first.

But Matt always gives back. It’s his Catholicism, you’re sure of that. He can’t take help. He has to be the one doing the work and moving mountains. He is God’s disciple and he feels responsible for his city and the people living in it. His blindness feels like a gift given to him by God to conquer all possible battles, and while you don’t really believe in God, you have accepted that part of him with open arms and more often than not join him in his faith because life with him is surely not the easiest.

When Matt Murdock feels overwhelmed, he tries not to show it. He’d rather lock himself away than burden you. He’d rather struggle on his own than put the people he loves in danger or hurt them with his personal struggles and the pain that consumes him.

Matt is patient and he doesn’t care if you screw up, even though you apologize profusely most of the time. He’s patient because we’re all human. We all screw up. That is the principle that he lives by and he makes you feel like you can be more of yourself around him. So after a year, there are no more reservations and you feel a lot more comfortable in your skin.

Until this day, he had never let his anger out on you, and he had never opened his mouth to yell at you in any way. Until that day.

He’s different when he comes home. He finds himself at his wit's end, and he has been ever since that godforsaken murder trial started. When he comes home, you don’t think much of his distance toward you, the denial of a proper kiss, and his grunts as he lowers himself on the couch instead of asking you about your day. You don’t think much until it all goes wrong, and you’re not even sure at what point it does or what you did to deserve this, but there has to be a reason because the man you’re seeing right now is not the Matt you usually get to see.

We all have bad days sometimes, others more often, but this seems deeper than just a bad day at the courthouse. This is not the face of an exhausted man after a long work day that just needs some kisses and maybe a blowjob, or to have sex with his girlfriend in all his dominant glory with aftercare to put the cherry on top. This is not Matt Murdock, this is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen that comes through the front door, tosses his cane into a corner, and then just falls on the couch like a wet sack of potatoes, his fists clenched as if he is ready to explode any second.

You’ve been taught to tread carefully, so you do. You approach him only slowly because you are worried, you always are. Perhaps it’s the line of questioning that has him exploding in no time.

“You okay?” you ask.

He props his feet up on the living room table and huffs. “Fine,” he says.

“You don’t look fine. Did something happen?”

You’ve brought him a glass of water, which he takes with a curt nod. Something is bothering him, but he won’t talk to you.

“Bad day at work?”

“It doesn’t matter now. I’m fine. I just want to forget that today ever happened.”

“You want some coffee?” you decide to ask instead.

“No,” he says.

His leg starts to bounce. It only does when he is agitated or overstimulated and is trying to deal with the world around him.

“Do you want me to run you a bath?”

He sighs. “No.”

“We still have leftovers, maybe I could warm them up.”

His tone is harsher this time, “No!”

You blink, a little taken aback by the force in his voice and involuntarily, you start to shake.

“I just want to be alone,” he adds, softer this time. “Can you… you know what, I’m just gonna get changed.”

And like that, he is gone. He disappears into the bedroom and you’re left flabbergasted. You want to ask what’s wrong, but you’re scared. You’ve never been scared of him before. It’s not him, it’s his reaction, and so you retreat into the kitchen.

Eventually, he comes out again, though he is still missing a shirt. “Have you seen my Columbia sweater?” he asks, the lights of the billboard reflecting off his marble skin.

“It’s in the washer,” you tell him.

“Why?”

“Because it’s dirty. Matt, what is going on?” You place your mug down and look at him, eyes soft and full of concern.

He only rolls his. “I just want my sweater.” Grabbing the used shirt from the chair at the dinner table, he slips it on. It’s not the fabric he wanted and he tenses up, hating the new sensation already.

“Are you sure this is about your sweater? You’ve been on me ever since you got in.”

“Yes, because you keep asking useless questions.”

“Useless?” You scoff. “So my interest and worry for you are useless?”

If there is one thing you have gotten good at it has to be defending yourself.

He brushes past you to get a beer from the fridge. “I told you, I’m fine.” He is good at brushing you off because he doesn’t like to admit when he feels weaker than usual.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Oh, my God, then stop fucking looking!”

“Okay, what the hell is your problem?”

He scoffs. “You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get?”

“Everything.”

“Enlighten me then.”

“It’s not…” his chuckle is bitter. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re gonna keep seeing problems where there are none, so talking to you makes no sense anyway.”

What did he just say? You are so confused and suddenly very angry that you forget you are holding a glass. You smash it down on the counter, and, as expected, it shatters into a million pieces. Most of them fall to the floor and right at his bare feet. His eyes darken.

Oh.

Now you are scared, and not in a way that resembles sexy foreplay. You are scared because he is turning into a stranger right before your eyes. Suddenly, all you can see is not your loving boyfriend Matt Murdock, you see the anger of both your father and your stepfather in his eyes and hear it in his voice and it instantly tells you, 'this is all your fault'.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t see…”

“One night,” he says. He moves out of the kitchen, trying not to step into the glass.

You follow him with wide eyes. “What’s that?”

“One night,” he repeats his earlier statement. “That’s all I wanted. One fucking night where people don’t prod or- or want things from me. And what do you do? You keep talking and talking, and you don’t even care that I simply don’t want to talk.”

“Matt, that is not fair. I just wanted to-“ the tears start to prick in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Jesus Christ.” And that’s where your strength stops and you retreat into your shell – the next words out of his mouth come so loud, you could have sworn they echoed off the brick walls and shot straight into your eardrums. “For once in your life, stop fucking apologizing!”

His hand lifts, mostly to underline his words, and with the bottle in his hand he is suddenly so close, your eyes squeeze shut at the gush of wind. You flinch, your entire body caving in on itself. It’s not even intentional, you can’t help it. You’ve been conditioned to expect the worst when someone raises their hand, and Matt has never done it before.

He realizes what it looks like the second your heart jumps and your blood rushes loudly in his ear. He can smell your sweat, the tears, and the fear that surrounds you. It’s your pheromones that change and something lingers in the air that makes him stop and think, what did I just do?

He has been so in his head and the city has been loud for hours, he lost most of his patience at the courthouse, and then you’re there all caring and lovely and he can’t help but tell himself he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you. He just wants quiet and to be alone while at the same time, all he wants is you, but it’s too much. It’s all too much.

And now, as you flinch away from him and his booming voice, he snaps back to reality and realizes he made a mistake. He’s never experienced you like this before, and it scares him.

“Did you just…” he begins, his voice soft and barely above a whisper.

He hears you fall to your knees, the taste of salt thick in the air and your breath shakes with every intake. You bite your lip and you collect the shards, trying to clean up your mess as if he would hate you if you didn’t. You whisper a silent, “Sorry.” And then he hears it. You’re sobbing, you try not to but you are, and it is his fault.

“Did you think I was gonna hit you?” he asks, dreading the answer.

You sniffle, not answering.

You flinched, he heard it, and not because you were surprised. You are scared, he knows.

He slowly approaches the kitchen. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”

“I just gotta clean this up,” you whimper and you brush the glass together with shaky hands. The tears are running down your cheeks in thick streams and your teeth have gnawed your bottom lip bloody, your throat dry with the denied sobs.

“I just gotta clean this up and then I can make you dinner or something. I don’t… I can fix this. I’ll fix this. I’m sorry.”

It’s your fault, you tell yourself. You pushed him. You deserve this. He worked hard the entire day and you annoyed him. He has every right to do this. In your head, at least. It makes all sense in your head while in reality, Matt has never been more shocked to read your body language than he is now.

He slowly kneels in front of you. “Answer me this,” he says, “did you flinch because you thought I was gonna hit you or because I yelled?”

You shrug, unable to look at him. One of the shards slides across your finger and you hiss, the smallest cut forming and causing blood to pool out of your skin. Still, you don’t stop. You need to clean this up before he gets even angrier at you. In your state, you don’t realize his voice has softened and he no longer stares at you with those blacked-out eyes. He looks sympathetic, almost, but most of all the guilt has spread throughout his features and his heart. He is aching to touch you, but you are scared and shaking and he doesn’t want to hurt you any further than he already has.

He had been so ignorant that he didn’t see the signs before.

“Why are you crying?” he asks again.

You wipe your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. It’s my fault,” you say. “I’ll clean this up, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“Hey.”

“No, I gotta-”

“Stop.” His hand is on your arm then. “You cut yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s a mantra you’ve taught yourself to say in the hopes you could somehow fix this before it’s too late.

But it’s not too late. When you finally look up, he’s smiling softly, and his thumb is stroking over your skin in circles.

“I’m sorry,” it’s his turn to say it. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. None of this is your fault. I was so caught up in my own shit, I… God, I would never hit you. I just- I didn’t think when I raised my hand. I didn’t think what it might look like to you. And I didn’t think when I yelled because I… in my head, I wasn’t thinking.”

Your facade cracks even more to the point you are seethrough and your defenses have fallen completely. You’re a snotty mess, shaking violently in his grasp.

“I’m trying, I swear I’m trying to be better. Just don’t be angry with me,” your voice is bordering on helpless little sobs, your lips turned downward and God, you are shaking so badly, you haven’t done so since the last fight with your father when you were a teenager.

Matt’s face softens even more, but there is a pain in there too. He takes a paper towel to wrap around your injured finger and he holds your hand, not sure if he is allowed to touch anywhere else, but he wants you to know he is here and he is going nowhere. He is neither mad nor is he going to break up with you. You try to tell yourself that, but it’s hard with the demon in your head whispering all those awful things into your ear, reminding you that everything bad that happens can only be your fault and that there is no use for you but to destroy and disappoint. But you don’t want to disappoint, you want him to be proud of you. You want him to hold you and tell you everything is alright. But you’re scared and you feel so stupidly guilty for something you can’t even put a finger on. Your bleeding finger.

“Angry with you?” he says. “No.” Matt chuckles, but it’s broken and almost whiny as he does so. “I’m not angry at you, bug. Of course not. I was just angry with the world. I was angry at everything else, but not you. I’m not angry at you. I couldn’t possibly be. I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair of me to take it out on you. I realize that now. And the glass…” he forces you away from the chaos gently, helping you stand up without hurting yourself further. “It’s just glass,” he tells you. “I’ll clean it up. There’s nothing bad about breaking something.”

“But the mess,” you say.

“Fuck the mess. The whole apartment’s a mess.”

“I’m so sorry! I can clean it. I can clean up, I promise. I just… I’m so sorry, Matt.”

“Stop apologizing, baby, please. The mess doesn’t matter. The apartment doesn’t matter, and the glass does not fucking matter. None of this is your fault. You didn’t do anything but try to help. I had no right to yell at you. And my hand… I would never hit you. Never.” He squeezes your hand. “I love you.”

You hiccup, whimpering when he pulls you away from the glass on the floor and pulls you into his arms. His chin rests on the crown of your head and you mold into him, the tears taking on new speed and wetting through his shirt. He strokes your back, not sure what else to do, and his lips find your temple. “God, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that, none of that.”

You cling tighter to him.

He keeps asking himself the same question over and over again. “Who hurt you?” he asks. It’s a valid question. A fear like that doesn’t just stem from nothing. Something happened in the past to have traumatized you this badly.

Your breathing eventually slows down, as do your tears, and you look up at him through swollen eyes. His white shirt is wet now, but he doesn’t care, he only hugs you back to his chest. “My father used to yell at me whenever I did something wrong,” you tell him, your voice muffled through his chest, but he understands every word.

His grip tightens. “Did he hit you?”

“Sometimes, but… I remember that one time I forgot to clean up after myself and he just… he…” The lack of oxygen makes you shudder and you hiccup again, nails digging into his back. “I’m sorry, he just… yelled at me. Sometimes, he’d slap me, but only sometimes. He’d threaten most of the time, but he didn’t do it often. And I mean, I was a hard kid to raise, I-“

“No, don’t blame yourself,” he is quick to cut you off. “You were a kid.”

You shudder again. “Well, I… you know, he blamed me for the smallest of things, so I got used to apologizing and trying to please everyone, but I can’t always do that. I try to fix things, but it doesn’t always work. He used to yell at me every damn time and I just… I get scared. I don’t like it when people raise their voices. It makes me feel so guilty and now I even broke a glass. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have… you had a bad day, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry like this. I swear I’m not a baby.”

You move away to rub your eyes. He grabs your face, smoothing the pads of his thumbs over your wet cheeks. The heat has pooled under the skin in an upset blush.

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “It’s okay to cry. If I’d known, baby, I…” Matt can only shake his head in disbelief.

He loves you more than anything and to see you hurting because of something another man did to you, a man who is supposed to protect you, makes him feel all kinds of things, but none of them positive.

But his anger doesn’t matter. This is about you. He has to take care of you now, not himself, and definitely not your father. It’s just you on his mind.

You choke on nothing. “He told me I have no reason to cry because he’s just stating facts.”

Matt clicks his tongue. “No, don’t ever think that again. You have every right to cry when you feel the need to.”

“It makes me weak,” you say.

“Your father’s wrong. You’re the strongest person I know,” he says. “And the fact that he yelled at you and blamed you for things that were out of your control… no one has the right to treat you like that, not even your parents, and he should have never even thought about raising his hand against you. That’s abuse. I can’t believe- fuck! Do you understand that it wasn’t your fault? That he had no right to do that?”

“Yes, but… it happened. Maybe I deserved some of those slaps. I mean you… I- I don’t know. It happened, we can’t change it. And who knows, maybe he was right.”

“Stop it! That’s not true and you know it.”

“I know, but-“

“No buts, sweetheart. I would never raise my hand against you, I promise. I’m not like your father. No one should be like him. You deserve so much better.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you sniffle, “it was just instinct.”

“Shh,” Matt kisses you gently, “I know. It’s like me dodging punches in a fight. It’s a defense mechanism. Your father, I… you’ve never said anything. I would’ve never suspected this.”

“‘Cause I didn’t think it was important. This never happened before. You never yelled before.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. You should have told me,” he says. “It’s important to me. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you. I want you to feel comfortable around me, not scared.”

You nod. “And I am, really, it’s just… I thought I did something wrong.”

His smile is soft when he leans in to kiss you again, tasting the tears on your lips. “You didn’t. I let my anger out on you for no reason. You didn’t deserve that. It won’t happen again, I promise,” and he dives right back in.

You wrap your arms around his neck, relaxing in his arms as his lips move against yours with sweet precision, making you feel lightheaded. He scared you, that much is true, but it was neither you nor his fault and you realize that now, safe in his arms as he proves his devotion to you with a single breath into your mouth. With his gentle touch around your waist he promises never to hurt you, never to let his anger out on you again, and he promises that he will drive himself to hell personally if he ever scares you like that again because he couldn’t forgive himself if anything happened to you because of him. He couldn’t live with himself if he broke your heart or triggered the trauma you brought into the relationship from your broken childhood, and he promises that he will never leave you, never put you second and always hold you when times get hard because people screw up, bad things happen, and you might be at fault sometimes, but so is he and there is no reason to be put down for being human. He wants to teach you that, he wants to help you heal yourself, and you have never felt more in love than at that moment, losing yourself in his lips, eyes and arms.

He breaks the kiss, moving on to your forehead. “If there is anything else I need to know,” he breathes hotly against your already heated skin, and the exhaustion slowly starts to seep into your bones as the shakes and tension subside from your bones, “please tell me before I make another mistake that might trigger you.”

You take in a deep breath, shaking your head. “There is not much else. My childhood wasn’t the best, but that’s okay,” you say.

He brushes his knuckles over your cheekbone. “Bad enough. Promise you’ll tell me if something else might come up?” He resembles a puppy as he tries to meet your eyes, but he fails miserably.

So you promise him, “Okay.”

“Can you forgive me for yelling?”

Your tears have finally come to a halt. “Yes,” you say.

“Thank you.”

Your eyes fall on the mess on the kitchen floor again and you go to grab the broom. Matt’s arm around your frame stop you and he gently pushes you out of the kitchen. “Let me clean it up,” he says. “Put a bandaid on your finger and then go lie down. I’ll deal with it.”

“No, I broke it. Please, Matt, let me do this.”

“Not everything is your fault, sweetheart. Besides, you already cut yourself once and with how you’re shaking, the next time you accidentally cut yourself I’m sure you’re gonna cause more damage.”

“But I-”

“Go to bed,” he insists, “I’ll be there in a second and then we’ll cuddle so you know I’m serious when I say that I love you more than life itself.”

The weight and guilt fall off your heart. “I love you,” you tell him. “More than life itself, too.”

It’s not a lie. If there is anything or anyone you love, it’s him, and you’ve never been this in love with anyone before. It’s sickening to the point it hurts, but the pain is sweet and it’s all worth it because with Matt, you can be yourself.

The past matters just a little less with someone who loves you right by your side, and he would never give up on you like everyone else did before him.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader #gender neutral reader #matt murdock imagines #marvel #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #mentions of child abuse #hurt/comfort #matt murdock fic #daredevil fic #daddy issues (but not the sexy kind)

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gnomishcunning · 9 months ago

Note

Hi! Speaking of requests - can I ask for your hcs on Rolan and physical touch? I feel like he's touch-starved but of course would hide it and deny it. Could be sfw or nsfw, however you prefer!

i completely agree that rolan's touch-starved, so this series of headcanons started from that and kinda bloomed into it's whole own thing. i hope you enjoy!

in general-

when you're fighting for your life in hell and then desperately trying to survive the long road from elturel to baldur's gate, some little things fall to the wayside. like processing your emotions, or safe and healthy self-reflection. subsequently, rolan doesn't realize he's touch-starved until he arrives in baldur's gate.

the first inkling he gets is when his apprenticeship to Lorroakan starts. it's the time he's spent away from Cal and Lia in a long while. while at first he enjoys the novelty of privacy and his own room, he's used to laying sandwiched between the two through the night, while Cal snores and Lia tosses and turns.

he sleeps like shit, those first few nights in the tower. the only thing that eventually gets him to sleep is when he starts collapsing into his bed from exhaustion, between working the front counter at Sorcerous Sundries and dealing with Lorroakan's... everything.

it starts to dawn on him with time, the absolute lack of friendly touch in his life. there's no cackling Lia leaning on his shoulder and tugging at his robes, straightening the silver of his apprentice's mantle. there's no fretting Cal, pressing food into his hands or gently nudging his side when he starts getting snippy.

in turn, there's nobody for him to fret over. he can't grab the back of Lia's robes before she charges into danger or trips over her own feet, he can't help Cal with his hair in the morning or ruffle his little brother's hair.

he should be reveling in the freedom, but it's just.

lonely.

he hates the fact he's lonely, he hates the fact he misses a time in his life that was so difficult for him and his family

i can totally see it being a bit of a wake-up call for him, when he realized he'd rather risk his life on the road with his siblings, rather than serve as Lorroakan's apprentice.

the issue doesn't get resolved until Lorroakan's dead, and his sibling move into the tower. thankfully, Rolan isn't put into a position where he needs to verbalize his loneliness. he and his siblings end up kind of clinging to each other - sleeping in the same room, fussing over each other more than necessary - until the netherbrain's defeat, when there isn't an immediate threat to their lives looming on the horizon

casually-

Rolan can be surprisingly touchy. it's an act that's constrained to the ones he loves and very close friends (primarily Cal and Lia, but Tav slips in there too), and he usually disguises it as fussing or his big-brother instincts.

with Lia, he's surprisingly playful. poking, prodding, the occasional horn-grab when she's being particularly annoying. those two can argue like no tomorrow, but it's almost always followed up by a friendly punch to the shoulder.

he's a little gentler with Cal, which stems from the fact both he and Lia view him as the little brother. ruffling his hair, straightening his leather jerkin. very rarely, when he accomplishes a difficult spell, or Cal accomplishes something cool - they'll shamelessly exchange high-fives. Lia almost always calls em both dorks.

with Tav? Tav's a fringe case. they're the only person outside his siblings he can call his friend, which is terribly embarrassing for an Archmage. So Rolan basically vacillates between hot and cold.

he won't go out of his way to find reasons to touch them, he's careful to maintain his and Tav's personal space. they had a tadpole in their head, he doesn't want to accidentally cross any lines about newly-held bodily autonomy. but if the excuse arises from circumstance? well. he'd be remiss to not to comfort his friend.

he fusses, like with Lia and Cal. it's probably a good thing, since Tav has a tendency to throw themselves headfirst into all sorts of danger, and that probably doesn't change post-netherbrain.

he'll clap a hand on their shoulder when they come by Sorcerous Sundries, guide them to sit down and take some time in his office to chat and catch up. gods know when the last time they slowed down - it's his way of insuring they stay out of danger, for at the last half hour they can sit still.

he'll inquire about their business, happily make them a cup of tea, sit down nearby on a sofa or chair. not enough to edge into their personal space, but within easy reaching distance. their cup is never empty, and his fingers will brush theirs when he moves to refill their tea.

if Tav's upset for whatever reason, he won't hesitate to offer a shoulder to cry on, or even a hug. Tav saved his life multiple times over, he'll offer whatever little comforts he can - while silently swearing to hex whoever made them cry. his quiet grumbles make Tav laugh, and he counts that as a win.

if rolan has romantic feelings for tav-

Hahahahaha ohno.

he was hot and cold beforehand? now he's just hot. like, constantly blushing, genuinely delighted to see Tav and seemingly incapable of being chill about it. he's needy, and in terrible denial about it.

his fussiness gets turned up to a 10, and through the right lens, it's almost protective. the friendly hand on Tav's shoulder turns into 'whenever they're in his immediate vicinity'. friendly pats, guiding hands on their back or elbow if they're maneuvering through a crowd

A lot of things are offered under the guise of being a gentleman. if they're somewhere in public with notable people, he'll offer his arm to 'escort' them. he's the Archmage of Ramazith's Tower accompanying the Hero of Baldur's Gate, it's the least he can do!

i like to imagine Rolan thinks he has perfect control over his tail, when in reality, it's the exact opposite. he subconciously emotes all the goddamn time.

this a big problem, when he's interacting with Tav, because they're (a) his friend, and (b) his crush. it tends to curl in the space between them when Tav stands nearby, and if they're sitting down it'll loop around their ankle without him noticing. the spade typically won't stay still, and it's usually Tav's giggling as it flicks over their skin that clues him in to his faux-pas.

he ends up spending a lot of time lying about tiefling body language if Tav's not one.

if they are? Well. He practically invents a new shade of red with how deep he blushes

it really isn't hard to tell rolan has feelings for you, because he's kinda. all over you, seeking physical touch in a way that supersedes what he's expressing with his words. just don't tell him, bc he'll probably spontaneously combust and then never leave the tower, ever again

when the confession finally comes? he's stuttering and red-faced, but he manages the words, and when Tav wraps their arms around his neck, he just. kinda collapses, wrapping his arms around their waist, burying his face in their hair, purring up a storm. he's spent too long dreaming about the way they would feel against him to maintain any pretenses of being above it all.

in a relationship-

finally finally finally, Rolan can be needy without excuse or embarrassment.

learning Tav returned his feelings was genuinely a relief, because he wasn't sure how long he could maintain the facade. like he wasn't already blatantly transparent in the first place buddy

if they're in his vicinity, He's Touching Them

holding their hand, wrapping his tail around their ankle, gently embracing them from behind while they're making dinner. If you sit in separate chairs, he's scooting closer so he can nudge your knee with his own under the table, or caress their thigh.

Tav's not even safe when sleeping. Rolan will migrate across the bed through the night to find them. please be prepared to wake up in a tangle of limbs, with tails and horns in uncomfortable places.

Given how big Rolan is with physical affection, it's no surprise it's one of his biggest love languages as well, in terms of receiving. please, give him affection.

this man melts for the little things. like when Tav strokes his hand with their thumb when holding hands, or carding their fingers through his hair, or scratching at the base of his horns

it's embarrassingly easy to get him to start purring

the thing that gets him to blurt out 'i love you' for the first time, probably no more than a month into the relationship, was when Tav came up behind him and started working his shoulders after a long day hunched over his desk

#rolan #rolan x tav #rolan bg3 #holy rolan empire #bg3

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littleplantfreak · 4 months ago

Text

It’s heavy

Erm its a small thing about wanting to carry Ume’s burdens ig that ive been thinking about (even though i ended up going a whole other direction than i originally daydreamed. When i first thought about it, it was gonna be like stand in the rain dramatic but.)

its sfw and theres no cws i think except it’s kinda spoilery from recent chapters (not in depth tho) Also I read through it once but you know how it goes with proofreading owo)/

"I didn't know it would feel that heavy," Sakura says, mid bite into his lunch.

"Whatd'ya mean?" You swallow your own food before getting a drink. He's talking about Umemiya.

"The resolve to fight. For the town, the people you...love," he grits out the last word, still unused to verbally speaking about affection, but he's been getting better. "The weight of everything on your shoulders makes it hard to move sometimes" Your eyes widen at that. At the change in demeanor since he first came to town. He's really improved since you first met and honestly the change is for the better.

"Is it...a bad feeling?" You wonder, food forgotten now that the conversation has turned serious.

"Not bad, just annoying. And comforting? I don't know how to explain it." He's flushed now, embarrassed by the inability to find the proper words to convey just how it is. It's one of those things you have to feel for yourself to really grasp.

"Exhausting too I bet," you say more to yourself, thoughts suddenly going fully to the white haired man. Two bi-colored eyes look your way as you twirl your fork in your hands thoughtfully. He turns even redder when he sees your dazed look, knowing you're ruminating about Umemiya. You take out your phone, shooting out a text to see where he's at. When he texts back that he's on his way to the cafe from school, you decide you'll meet him halfway, telling Sakura you'll be back in a bit and that he can have your leftovers.

You're jogging really, not caring about pacing yourself when an urge has overtaken you. The anxiety spreads in your chest to your arms and hands, prickling at your fingertips. Nothing's wrong, but at the moment you feel like if you don't see his face soon, you'll never see it again. Logically, you talk yourself down knowing those thoughts are just your brain screwing with you, but the feeling won't go away until you get to him.

The sun warms Hajime’s face as he heads to Kotoha’s, wind blowing the chimes as they clink daintily. He's got an easy walk going, not surrounded by people for once.

The look on his face when he spots you is one of delight, slowly switching to concern from the way you're running towards him, cheeks flushed.

"Hey pumpkin, what's with the running? Somethin' up?" He asks before you plow straight into his chest, arms squeezing around his waist. You shake your head, tightening him in your hold knowing it's not gonna hurt him in the slightest.

"Can I carry it sometimes?" you mumble from his chest after a minute of breathing in his scent, sweat and deodorant mixing into a smell that was so him it calmed the frayed nervous that had been unraveling. When he asks what you'd be carrying, you lift your face to lock eyes with him.

"You? Everything you're carrying? Not all the time, but I don't want you to be the only one shouldering so much weight. I'm not that strong, but," you're suddenly self conscious about it, looking down at your feet for a second before forcing yourself back to look at his face. "but I can do it for you. Whenever you need me to." You finish, waiting on his response. He breathes deep and ponders it for a second, the look on his face a mix of hesitance and adoration at your declaration. For once he’a speechless, but he’s not surprised it’s you who’s rendered him as such.

“…I love you,” he says simply, eyes wide. Like he just rediscovered the fact despite his almost constant mission to let you know that with his words and actions on a daily basis.

“That’s not what-,”

“I know. I know, but I just wanted to say it I think. Or I couldn’t help it.” He kneels down to your level, holding both of your hands in his own, a look of resolve in his cloud grey eyes. “I can try…letting you carry some of it. It’s heavy.”

“That’s fine,” and you release his hands before grabbing his face. “I’ve got you.”

Atlas was punished to hold the weight of the world, but Hajime isn’t Atlas and he has you.

You both drop the subject for a bit, a ghost of the conversation still stays lingering in both of your heads. It's easy to say he'll rely on you like that, but the truth is putting it into practice is remarkably difficult.

He's still wondering how to work this new part of your dynamic when you decide to take the bull by the horns. He wakes up and shoots a text to Hiragi, telling him he'll meet him at the bakery to help paint the new sign, but he receives a text back saying it's been taken care of. Well that clears things up a bit, he thinks. So he goes to Kotoha's knowing she's been needing someone to do a supply run...only to find the first years already carrying the groceries over, and when he tries to help put them away? He's blocked from them, Nirei stuttering that they can handle it on their own.

His sister chimes in, though, that she thinks you really needed help with something over near the park. He thanks her, figuring his two main task for the day were complete, albeit almost immediately without him lifting a finger. By the time he makes his way to you, it seems you've been sitting for a while, passing the time on your phone wearing one of his old hoodies.

"You needed help lovebug?" He's asking, a hand running rough his hair, breath taken at the sight of you. You don't look any way different from any other day, but the feeling he gets in his chest when he sees you has yet to fade and he doesn't think it ever will.

"Yeah. It's a tough job. Think you can help?"

"Anything for you." You can tell by his voice and the look on his face that he means it.

"I want my boyfriend to relax for the day. Do you know how I can make that happen?" Faux innocence filling your expression. A few things click in his head at once. Throughout the week, his schedule seemed to be getting freer and freer no matter how many people he'd heard needed help with something. Every time he checked in with the person, someone had already taken care of it vehemently denying a need for any more assistance. Even today, the two things he planned to do were quickly swept up and deposited for someone else to do.

The look on your face, and your question have the last puzzle piece fitting into place. He'd smack himself for taking this long to notice if he wasn't flushing a bit right now. You were around less during the week or at the very least on your phone a bit more than usual, but he chalked it up to it being a busy week for you. He never would've thought you were working behind the scenes to lighten his load.

He'd gotten more done for himself this week than he had in a while and he had you to thank for that, even though it took him a while to figure it out. He thought briefly about thanking you, but realized this is what you wanted to do, no thanks necessary. So he shrugs before answering your question.

"I could've sworn he said something about really wanting to kiss you right now. He's around here somewhere I think," he's walking closer, hand on his chin, looking around as if to search for himself.

"Great, when you find him, let him know I've got a pillow and blanket fort set up at home with a stack of movies near the TV." You dodge him, twisting out of the way to head in the direction of your place. He huffs a laugh before running up to your side, arm wrapping around your waist, and drawing you in a close hug. He presses a big kiss to the crown of your head, and releases you just enough to keep walking. He feels lighter than he has in a while, and if you'd been asked, you would've told him the same thing.

#urgh i feel like i write the same thing all the time and its so repetitive #mari writes #umemiya hajime x reader #wind breaker #after this its strictly my one WIP i refuse to write a thing till its done because at least its something DIFFERENT #throws this in the ocean with the rest of my stuff im not satisfied with #my number one goal in life is to take care of umemiya hajime like he takes care of everyone else #and ive compared him to atlas before so?#em was my beta reader of sorts #she hypes me up i love herrr #im exhaustedddd #on vacation? its more likely than you think

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alexisomnias · 2 years ago

Text

— YOUR TEARS. . .

⤷ you cry to them, how do they comfort you?

comfort fic, platonic or romantic, [TW] described panic attacks, crying

featuring DIASOMNIA

MALLEUS DRACONIA

• When your crying, he tends to just sit and hold you. You don't have to speak or explain to him, he'll just hold you until your willing to talk or until you no longer want to be held.

• After you've calmed down, he'll invite you out on a walk! Fresh air always makes people more refreshed and he hopes it'll help you feel better.

• For the most part, I can see him wanting to distract you from your issues. Not in a way of invalidating them, but in more of a way distract you until your out of your depressive state. He would wait years, so don't worry darling. Your nothing close to a bother.

• He's not to educated on others feelings or emotions. But he knows he'll never be able to truly understand how your feeling. If you yourself are unsure of whatever is running through your mind, he knows there's no way he could either. Though, as long as he can be a pillar for you to lean on he's okay, and he'll be there with you until your smiling truthfully again.

Malleus could feel you shake against his much taller frame. His hands rubbed along your arm comfortingly like how he remembered Lilia doing to him. The sound of your sobs echoing around as he holds you close. Ensuring he's hiding you from the prying eyes of the world around you both. A wall to cover you and keep you safe and comforted. He doesn't say anything as you cry, he won't say anything unless you ask for it. His words hold less value then the ones of your own. He listens to you vent out your feelings when you wish to do so. And when you stop, he kisses your gentle, fragile skin.

"You don't have to be okay, you don't have to be okay for anyone. I'm not going to pretend I know what your going through, all I know is that everything feels like its falling apart." he whispers, voice gentle as he tried. "You don't have to explain what's going on in your head. I'm not above your thoughts like I know everything your feeling and I could explain it in a couple of words." he laughs, though the sound is doleful, his eyes gentle and soft. "I'll not leave, unless you want me to, and I'll not stop loving you."

LILIA VANROUGE

• His embrace is very parental. Its filled with love and care, patience and understanding. He holds you like a father holding his child. Not like your fragile and you'll break with a slip of a finger, but instead like a valuable item he never wants to lose.

• He'll listen to you scream, yell, cry, vent, whatever it is you do when your depressed. And he'll listen with patience and cognizance. He'll affirm you positives and he'll ensure you know how cared for you are by those around you. Theres people that care, he'll remind. And he hopes you know he's one of those people.

• He'll never shy away from the issue like it'll be resolved in a few hours, or he'll never run away from it because he see's it as a problem. He doesn't want you to feel like your trapped in a dead end all alone.

• He'll sway to whatever you find most comfortable in these cases. He'll guide you away from self-destruction and into his arms. Somewhere, where you can cry and scream at the world for whatever your going through.

The droplets of your tears stained his shirt, and the messy strands of your hair were held in his hands. He held you lightly, like you were enveloped by a cloud as you apologized. Lilia didn't know what for, or why in the world you'd apologize for emotions. Emotions everyone feels, emotions that differ from person to person. Feelings locked by a key, the key mold breaking the untold, unfamiliar breakdowns you experience. Through many years Lilia's seen grief, mourning, pain, fear, depression. So he had a grasp of the emotions you were feeling but not what was running through your head. Your mind being uncharted territory he'll never uncover.

"I'll leave when you wish to be alone. You are not a burden to me, or to anyone else. because your just as anyone else, someone whos struggling and in need of light. I'm in no position to tell you what your feeling, or how you should feel, or even how you should handle it. Your the only one who can give your feelings names." he whispers. Lilia's voice echoing through your ears as he eases you through your distress. "You deserve the best, and when the world gives you challenges. I'll never stop being there to help you overcome them."

SILVER

• Silver is not the best at comforting others, the best he can do is listen and learn. He'll sit back if you want him to, he'll make you something to eat if you want him to. He'll even leave if you are uncomfortable. Whatever you wish he'll try to sway.

• I can see Silver as the type to calm you to sleep. Hold you, maybe wrap you (and maybe him) in a pillow fortress and listen to calming music until you fall asleep. Then if you want to talk about it in the morning, he'd be willing to listen. He'll not force you into anything.

• He'll get you to try some healthy methods he does to help relieve stress! Like having certain scents around, eating, sleeping, writing down your issues, breathing exercises, etc). Or he'll try some of your methods alongside you. He doesn't want you to feel alone!

• He'll always be there to protect you from the outside. Like a wall to your heart, he stands around it ensuring nothing can break it!

He sits down next to you, not too close, not too far. He listens to you cry, whether you wish to vent or just cry he's open to either. He's not going to tell you how you should handle your issues. He remembers his father listening to his issues whenever he was sad. So he's going to do the same to you. Silver found it always helped having someone willing to go through a process with you. Not saying things like, "it'll get better soon", "You'll feel better", "This'll pass", because it won't. Sadness is an emotion that follows you throughout life, and while the thing that makes you sad may no longer be there, the feeling itself doesn't just "get better" like its some kind of problem.

"We can do whatever you want. I'll be here beside you the entire way until you want time for yourself. No distance or feeling will ever push me away from you." He affirms, his eyes pure like a jewel. Staring into yours as he helps you through your dark place. "So let yourself be, nobody can judge you based on feeling they don't even understand. I'll never judge you or stop loving you just because your being human."

SEBEK ZIGVOLT

• Sebek is a more talkative comforter. His voice is still stern (and unfortunately loud) but he never condemns you for how you feel. He talks you through it, not dictating how your breakdown should go, but by responding to the things you say and helping you through and let everything out healthily.

• He listens for once, he lets you let everything out. Then after he brings you or takes you somewhere. Anything you'd like to do and he'll try to uplift you while also keeping the fact that your sad visible. He won't push the issue away but he won't drag it out.

• Sebek acknowledges how you feel. He won't lie straight to you, or act like a therapist or that its a scheduled meeting for you to talk about your feelings. He'll treat it as it is. Your sad, and that's okay. And he'll be there to assure you that whatever your feeling is rational.

• And if someone else made you cry? Don't get him started, he'd strike them down like they were an ant he never even saw.

Sebek stands by you after your emotions settle and your breathing calms. The attack moving away as he takes its place. Standing there like a guard protecting their royalty. He was abnormally quiet, as if you were a kitten he was taking care of. He would never pity you, your a strong human. Strong emotionally for sure, he admires that about you. His honesty knows no bounds and he'd say nothing but honest views he has on you, good or bad. Either way, he's ready to be there for every step of your life. Through rough, shallow, or peaceful times, he's ready to be the boat that never sinks.

"Your not ungrateful for feeling like this. Everyone feels like this sometimes and its all completely normal." he says,. "I feel like it sometimes, er, too. Bad weeks, days, or months will come and I hope to be here by your side during those trying times!" His voice was assured, and convincing. Like he was 100 percent sure he'd be there for you whenever you call. Like lightning striking down from the sky when thunder calls.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twised wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #diasomnia #diasomnia x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #silver vanrouge #silver x reader #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #comfort fic #suns pencil.

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derangedanomaly · 7 months ago

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...So, Chaos is like my comfort character rn, and him getting mad at us... again... genuinely makes me want to cry, I can't handle getting yelled at... Like at all, and right now I'm literally shaking, if like anyone yells at me in anyway, my brain immediately says that it's my fault and I mad them mad, and to get away from them... Ha ha ha..... I think I have a problem.... But, when I get like this, I hide from the person that yelled at me, for like hours, sometimes I disassociate from the person to the point I stop responding... Completely... And then I avoid them, fearing I'll get yelled at again, and make them mad again. I won't even ask for help, I'll stay quiet and do as I'm told, without a single thought running through my head, like completely empty.

I was wondering if you could write um, some headcanons on Mare, Chaos, and the trio getting angry and yelling at us and then we just start disassociating and then when they stop yelling, we just disappear for hours only to reappear and not say a single word, but avoid them because we feel like we upset them and fear that if we get close to them they'll get angry again. And we won't even ask for things, we just hide and won't come out until our mind feels it's safe. And if they try to talk to us, at all, our mind immediately feels its no longer safe, and then we disassociate again.

You're so real for this.. I literally can't handle arguments- I don't like conflicts at all.

MASTERLIST

THE BOYS X THE READER DISAPPEARING AFTER AN ARGUMENT

NIGHTMARE:

Of course he snapped. How could he not? You keep on making excuses upon excuses, just so you can get out of doing certain chores. Nightmare just can't keep it together anymore... he's seriously too tired for this.

He was surprised when you ran up to your room, and didn't show up the whole day.

He honestly started to get a lil concerned. But his pride didn't let him check up on you

It was a shock to him when you finally came out of your room.

But even through all this... he's still the king of negativity. Of course he's gonna enjoy your negative feelings.

Honestly- won't end well. He doesn't know how to comfort someone, and he'd probably make it worse than it is actually- so.... Not the best choice 😭

CHAOS:

He didn't want to yell... He didn't mean to yell and let his emotions out... But you just suddenly started mentioning his mom...again. He truly doesn't want to think about it- he doesn't want to hear about it. Then something in him just- snapped.

You wouldn't even make it up to your room, before he grabs your hand, and looks at you with tears in his eye.

The only thing that he didn't want to happen- happened. He yelled at you.

You two immediately resolved it!

Everything went back to normal- and now you know not to mention that topic again..

Honestly, one of the best choices here lmao.

ACE:

He tries to stay away from creating conflicts...he can't stand them. He doesn't search for them- and he sure as hell doesn't want them. But hearing you spitting "facts" about his favorite tv show just made him angry..

He feels horrible after he sees you run up the stairs, a total mess.

He also- much like Chaos- won't let it sit. He'll try to immediately solve your argument!

He'd apologize really passionately! Just snuggling up to you, telling you how much he appreciates you..

BLADE:

Blade couldn't keep his cool when you fiddled with his collection of knives. He just COULDN'T. And being the idiot he is, he raised his voice....which he quickly realized was a mistake.

He was confused when you started avoiding him-

This dumbass is such a dum dum that he lets this go on for a whole week 💀

He just doesn't know what to say/do😭🙏🏻

He'd crack though, after he starts missing you.

Yeah...you got yourself a begging mess of Blade lmao

TED:

He doesn't yell at you

#undertale #undertale fandom #sans undertale #undertale au #utmv #utmv au #chaos sans #chaos sans x reader #nightmare sans #nightmare sans x reader #dust sans #dust sans x reader #killer sans #killer sans x reader #horror sans #horror sans x reader

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it-happened-one-fic · 1 year ago

Text

Ink and Magic - The Rose-Red Tyrant

Author Notes: So this is a sort of halfway non canon compliant what if with the overblots and their aftermath. I've been considering, for quite some time now, why the Prefect (reader) gets to see what amounts to the overblot victims memories and hear what seems to be their thoughts regarding said memories. So I guess you could say this is a kind of headcanon for what happens in those moments. This isn't exactly romantic. in fact, I would say it counts as more platonic, but it certainly can be taken as shippy. This will also be a series, though the Diasomnia section won't come out until that entire matter is resolved in game. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Spoilers for Book 1: The Rose-Red Tyrant!!

[Heartslabyul: You're Here!] [Savanaclaw] [Octavinelle] [Scarabia] [Pomefiore] [Ignihyde] [Diasomnia: To be released]

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fic series/ Can be platonic or romantic/ fluff/ angst/ comfort/ Spoilers for Heartslabul overblot.

Word Count: 2311

The ground was a brutal red. Covered in crushed and bruised rose petals that mixed with dark ink and made everything slippery.

All I could hear were the screams and shouts from those nearby, but rather than fleeing or continuing to shout directions and warnings until my voice was hoarse, I stood silently. Watching in quiet horror as Riddle stumbled, reeling from the magical attacks he’d just received from his fellow dorm-mates.

His once soft gray eyes were a violent red and wide open as he stared at me with an expression that spoke of shock. Like his entire world had just come crashing down like a house of cards around him.

He was no longer a form of horror, as the monstrosity behind him collapsed in a flood of ink that spread across the already-soaked ground.

Instead, Riddle now looked pitiful. Like a lost child. He was trembling all over, but he’d at long last stopped attacking, and I honestly wondered if he’d simply run out of steam.

But as I looked at him, an unexpected sorrow swelled within my heart and caught me off-guard as the young man looked down at his hands, still blackened with ink stains.

Bitter tears began to fill his red eyes, and his previously loud voice wavered as he began to speak, “I…. I was wrong?! But that’s…. Impossible…..”

His hands came up to cover his eyes and hide the tears that now threatened to roll down his too-pale face.

He was no longer a creature perfectly fit for nightmares, and my heart seized painfully at his next words. So soft and broken that they were barely audible, “Isn’t it…Mother?”

With those words, he gave a shudder and stumbled forward, his hands limply falling away from his face, which was now streaked with ink from his stained hands.

This was a Riddle I’d never seen before. One that was completely different from the mature but tyrannical young man I’d met.

This was a young boy who was lost, broken, and one that I simply couldn’t abandon in this moment.

I didn’t know if it was instinct or something else, but something drove me forwards. Spurring me into running towards the young man, who had begun to collapse forward.

My feet slid against the inky but tattered rose petals that littered the ground. Evidence of the horror we’d all just witnessed. The other students' voices followed me as they let out alarmed cries. Ace’s voice was perhaps the most prominent as he shouted my name.

The panic in his voice almost made me want to stop even as my tired legs continued to carry me forward.

In truth, I had only one thought in my mind: that the young man in front of me, Riddle, didn’t need to be alone.

It was a truth that was whispered to me from within my own mind. Something I knew as a solid fact even though I had no proof.

I barely even knew Riddle. All I knew of him was tyranny.

But I held out my arms, catching the small young man that I now realized was quite frail despite the immense magical power he possessed.

He clung desperately to my shirt with trembling hands, and a sob tore its way out of him. I could practically feel the cold ink staining my shirt as it seeped through the thin fabric, and we both sank to the ground.

He was exhausted, with his head drooping towards me like he could no longer stay awake. And as my knees hit the soggy ground, a wave of fatigue washed over me that promised me peace if I would just let it carry me away.

I faintly heard my name get called yet again, but it sounded far enough away to be in an entirely other world.

Perhaps it was a voice from my world, trying to call me back home.

But even with that thought in mind, I didn’t respond. Instead, I fell into a darkness that consumed me, and I slumped forward. Still holding the small, broken boy close to me. As if that could bring him the peace he seemed to so desperately need.

But I wasn’t meant to slumber peacefully here, and though the deep darkness of what I thought was deep sleep surrounded me, I was not truly resting.

I looked around in confusion, looking for someone else in this deep darkness. After all, it didn’t feel like I was alone. It felt like I was surrounded in a space that was filled with only myself and one other person.

It was a strange sensation, one that left me feeling out of my depth as I glanced around in confusion. Finding that here, I was no longer exhausted or sore from the events that had just unfolded in Heartslabyul.

Like a glitch on a television screen, the blackness flickered, and a hazy scene appeared. That reminded me of an old black-and-white movie recording.

Even the voices were crackly.

“Happy 8th Birthday Riddle….” I frowned slightly and shook my head, wondering what I was seeing.

I had to be dreaming, but…. Something about this didn’t feel like a dream. It felt more like I was trying to sift through my memories and was instead being faced with wholly unfamiliar images.

A large woman stood, smiling down at an adorable red-haired boy whose face I immediately recognized with an alarmed jolt.

Riddle. Without a doubt, that was the very same young man who’d just attacked me, my friends, and the other members of the Heartslabyul dorm in the midst of what I could only describe as a psychotic break.

I stared in a strange mixture of fascination and confusion at the scene before me as a voice that, unlike the others, was perfectly clear began to narrate the scene that lay before me. Riddle’s voice.

It sounded like he was right next to me, but when I turned, he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, I appeared to be alone.

Alone, but I was wholly surrounded by the scene of what seemed to be his, Riddle’s, childhood.

“I’d always wanted to try one of those tarts with the bright red strawberries….”

His voice was as solemn as ever as it calmly explained the thoughts and feelings of the child Riddle, who seemed to star in all of these scenes. But the image before me did not stay peaceful, and I soon came to realize a darker truth about what was unfolding in front of me.

I listened and watched with mounting horror as memories from Riddle’s childhood, barren of playing and fun, played in front of me like a film. Every bit of it was narrated by a numb-sounding Riddle himself.

My eyes went wide as a young, brightly smiling Trey flashed in front of me. He was accompanied by another boy, whom I soon realized was that cat-like fellow I’d met in the Heartslabyul maze. Chenya, I believed his name was.

It was then, right after their appearance, that everything truly began to snowball out of control.

Tiny Riddle finally got to experience the joys of childhood, only to be caught by his mother, who enforced even more rigorous rules on him. And it was painful to see the small child, who would someday become the young man I’d met not too long ago, weep as he was denied some of the most basic aspects of childhood.

I was beyond enraged on behalf of the small child in front of me. But what made it worse was Riddle’s voice, which was still narrating each scene even though tears were slowly beginning to choke off his voice, “But Mom… Why? Why does my heart hurt so much?”

I covered my mouth, as if that could somehow help me cope, as I listened to the young man whom I could hear crying, but I couldn’t see nor comfort.

The scene in front of me slowly faded to black, leaving me only with Riddle’s voice, begging for an explanation as I turned, searching for him in vain. But he was invisible, in this darkness, as he pleaded for an answer to his questions, “Tell me, Mom, please….. What rule do I need to follow to make this pain go away?”

I closed my eyes, shaking my head as if that could somehow help me figure out what to do, and then, like flipping a switch, it all stopped.

I opened my eyes wearily, only to find I’d been crying silently as I‘d held Riddle close to my chest. My cheeks were even still wet, judging from how cold the breeze was on my face.

Riddle himself was still asleep. His expression slowly relaxed from an upset that matched his tear-choked voice, which I’d just been listening to, to a more peaceful one that suited him far better.

And it was a relief to see him relax after having seen what I’d just witnessed in whatever that dream was.

One of his hands was still fisted in my shirt as he clung to me like a small child, causing me to smile slightly even as I shifted to better examine him. I froze mid-motion as I heard a sharp inhale from just next to me. It was then that I realized that both me and Riddle were not, in fact, being supported by one another.

Instead, it was the young man who knelt next to us who held us upright with his arms wrapped securely around the two of us in a sort of embrace.

I looked over and made eye contact with warm, honey-colored eyes that stared at me, relief sweeping through them as I managed to croak out the man’s name, “Trey.”

He let out an exhale, a relieved smile appearing on his face as his grip on my arm tightened ever so slightly, almost like he was trying to reassure himself that I really was present and that all was well.

“Thank goodness. You’re back,” His voice was soft, more of a breath than anything, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by ‘back’.

But I didn’t get to ask, and he didn’t get to continue since I heard three familiar voices both yell the same name at the same time.

“Y/N!”

I half turned, finding I was still exhausted and slumping against Trey a bit more as I spotted Ace and Deuce both staring at me in wide-eyed relief before they both took off as Cater, who was right behind them, was still turning to look at me.

The two boys' feet dug into the still-inky ground as they darted towards where I knelt with Trey and Riddle.

Deuce reached us first, hitting his knees and grasping my arms as he scanned me for injury, “Are you alright?”

His voice was trembling as he questioned me, looking up at me with wide, panicked eyes. His expression was mirrored by Ace, who was desperately asking me what had happened while Cater appeared behind them. Carefully scanning both me and Riddle.

“Hey, hey. You’re crowding them. They only just came too,” Trey’s grip on me shifted in an almost protective fashion as he spoke, and I realized I was still relying heavily on him for support.

Crowley walked up far more slowly than the others, his eyes on me and a frown on his face as he began to open his mouth to say something.

But before he could speak, one of Riddle’s hands, which had been gripping my arm this entire time, tightened slightly, and he made a mumbling sound.

All eyes darted to the young man, who slowly opened his eyes, once more a soft grey not unlike that of a dove’s feathers, with a groan.

He looked up, making eye contact with me before looking at Trey and then back at me.

Cater was saying something to both of us, but I'd tuned it out almost completely as I scanned the boy for any injuries.

Riddle continued to look up at me with hazy eyes as I carefully scanned his small form, frowning as I noted exactly how exhausted he still looked.

After a brief moment, though, he pulled away from both me and Trey. Distancing himself as his eyes slowly cleared and the gravity of the entire situation sank in.

From there, the situation devolved fairly quickly, with numerous questions being asked and reconciliations being made. Trey swept in towards the end of things, with Cater by his side like two concerned parents. Demanding that me and Riddle both go to the infirmary for a checkup.

It wasn’t until we were alone in that cold room filled with cots that Riddle made eye contact with me once more, “My… memories. You saw them, didn’t you?”

I was silent for a moment as I recalled those strange scenes in flickering black-and-white before I at last nodded, “Yes, I don’t know what caused it but…. Yes, I believe I did…. I heard you too.”

He nodded, falling silent as we waited for the nurse to enter and give us a clean bill of health. After a few moments, he met my gaze again, “I think we…. Connected for a moment there. I don’t know how, but you saw my memories and heard my thoughts. And I… I felt you there.”

I watched him quietly, not sure of what to say as he fell silent. But I couldn’t blame him. I too wouldn’t know what to say or think if some had seen my memories.

After a moment, though, he looked over at me with a troubled expression before he spoke quietly, “If I were you, I would tell the Headmaster about this.”

I nodded, unsure of what to say since something told me neither of us knew what this meant for me or him.

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 2 months ago

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I feel like this is a horrible thing to say, but when I'm shown examples of when Marinette is having a hard time, it's hard for me to feel bad for her.

It's not like I think she deserves it and I certainly don't draw any joy from it, but I just don't feel any sympathy for when she's struggling.

My theory is that the show has toted her so much as the all-important one-and-only, all while ignoring everyone else's important moments and struggles, that I'm struggling to feel sympathetic for when Marinette is going through some sort of misfortune. Every single one of her struggles are always highlighted in such a way that it's supposed to be this incredibly-important thing that makes Marinette look so sad, but then she's comforted and validated until eventually, this struggle eventually gets resolved and she's all happy again.

But then there's Adrien. No closure about his mom, his dad, Natalie—nothing. He's slapped with all the responsibility of comforting and validating Marinette, who eventually gets her personal conflicts resolved without lasting impact.

I'm not saying Marinette hasn't done anything to comfort and validate Adrien, but his conflicts just feel largely brushed aside and/or downplayed in comparison to Marinette's, which are highlighted and emphasized as significant events.

I don't know if this makes me a bad person or something, and I do kind of feel bad about it, but I just struggle to sympathize with her when the show tries to make us feel bad for her.

Marinette is a fictional character. It's totally fine if the bad writing has completely turned you off to her and drained you of sympathy because the entire purpose of her existence is to entertain people. She's not some meaningful representation that you should want to connect with and understand to improve your world view or something like that. She's just a poorly written teenager in a bad kids show. As long as you're able to acknowledge that fact and own that this is mainly a writing issue - and it sounds like you are - I wouldn't stress about it. The writers have done a lot to make her unlikable! I totally get why someone would not want to watch a show starring her canon self. I struggle at times and I genuinely like Marinette! Her writing is one of the many reasons I just don't know if I'm going to watch season six.

I don't defend Marinette because she's done nothing wrong. I defend her because her faults are so clearly just bad writing and not some grand plan for the character where she's going to learn something, which makes me feel protective of her because I genuinely love the base character concept and what she could have been. It's annoying to see people treating her like she's the problem and not the writing because she's literally not allowed to learn lessons and change, so of course she keeps coming across worse and worse! Her flaws are genuinely fine for a serialized story, they just have no place in an episodic one where the characters stay largely stagnant.

For example, nothing about the season five conflict and final naturally follows the BS season four conflict where she supposedly learned to trust Chat Noir. As much as I don't agree that with that synopsis of what the conflict was, it is how Ladybug sums it up in the final:

Ladybug: Why don't you just give up on me? I've lost ALL the Miraculous! I'm the worst Guardian EVER! I wanted to control everything, I didn't listen to you, I lied to you, I kept you at a distance! Every time you offered me a helping hand, I never took it! I really made a mess of EVERYTHING! Cat Noir: We're gonna get them back one by one…until the very last. And we'll make sure this never happens again.

And yet none of this seems to impact season five. Chat Noir and Ladybug maintain all their secrets and they do absolutely nothing to track down the missing miraculous because the plot won't let them even though it really doesn't fit Marinette's character. She certainly hasn't given up controlling things because, once again, the show literally will not let her do that. The rare episodes where it happens always see her punished like when Alya handing out miraculous lead to SentiNino which almost lead Gabriel to knowing Ladybug's secret identity. Adrien suffers for similar reasons. So does Alya and so many other characters! I totally get why someone would not be able to look past canon's writing since it's not like the flaws are minor. I have the same problem with both Lila and Nathalie.

I just cannot stand Nathalie even though I know that she's as much of a victim as Marinette and all the other characters. None of Nathalie's flaws are her fault because she doesn't exist. It's just that Nathalie's bad writing hits me in a way that makes me despise her while Marinette's hits in a "protect and defend" way. There's no wider logic here. It's just a matter of what characters I connected with enough to look past the bad writing. The type of fanfics I read probably also helped...

My only real piece of advice on this topic is to watch your mental health and take a Miraculous break or even leave the fandom all together if you notice that your Marinette hate (or hate of anything in canon) is really messing with you. I've mentioned before that I'm debating about watching season six and a big reason why is that I don't know if it's going to be good for my mental health. Lila's writing has consistently got on my nerves, but she was a minor enough character that I was still having a good time. Given that Lila is our new big bad with the added bonus of how shitty season five was and the show may have hit a point where it's just not fun for me anymore.

Previously, I had issues with the overall writing, but genuinely enjoyed watching the show as the writers are pretty good at short form story telling, so canon was a nice mix of genuinely enjoyable moments and writing issues that were fun to talk about. That was not true for season five and I just can't picture how it will be true for season six. The only reason I'm even considering it is because I watch the show with my SO and he has a lot of fun listening to me rant about bad media, so I may still have a good time with season six. It would not be the first time that I suffered through a piece of bad media for the sake of a loved one who really wanted someone to rant about it with.

I'm not the kind of person who will tell people they're not welcome in a fandom unless they like X. That sort of gate keeping is ugly and often straight up bullying, so don't read this as me saying that you have to like Marinette to enjoy the show or that you need to disengage if you don't like X% of canon. As long as you're having fun and not forcing your dislike on others by sending clearly unwelcome asks or engaging with sugar posts in an antagonistic way or anything like that, then I'm going to defend your right to be in fandom even if we personally aren't going to get along and need to stay in our separate fandom bubbles.* All I'm saying is that it's important to know when to disengage from a piece of media. To keep track of when something starts consistently bringing you more sorrow than joy. When that line is crossed? It's time to move on.

The sad fact is that, while you may utterly adore a piece of media, you have no control of what that media will do, so you need to be very careful about trusting your mental health to total strangers. It's part of why I tend to be so critical of media. Analysis and plot pitches like I do on this blog are genuinely fun for me, but they're also a much healthier way to engage with a story than just trusting it to be good and getting burned when it isn't. There's a reason I avoid theory crafting. I've gotten really into that in the past and wound up hurt because I put way too much faith in strangers who ended up sucking at their job.

*Btw, the line about separate fandom bubbles was not aimed at you. It's just a general statement about how fandom works. All are welcome, but all do not need to directly interact. Curating your fandom experience is important self care. Blocking someone isn't some sort of value judgement. It's just sometimes a thing you need to do in order to keep from seething when you accidentally see their asinine hot takes.

#blckwhtepersona #ml writing critical #ml writing salt #My best friend has “please read this bad book for me” privileges and uses them #But notably only for stuff she's read/is reading #She gets one a series from me because I love her that much #Her latest ask was an absolutly horrendous book called Fourth Wing and it sucked so much...#But I did have fun ranting about it with her! So it was a genuinely positive experience.#Not positive enough to get me to read the second book though #She hasn't even been able to finish it and it's been like a year now #I am much nicer to Nathalie and Lila in fic since I don't enjoy writing salt fic #But when taking about canon?#No mercy!!!

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ghoulie-67-baby · 1 year ago

Text

Disrespect- Wizarding world.

Summary: You’re tired and overwhelmed and in a serious bad mood, bu that doesnt mean you can take it out on Remus without punishment.

Warnings: Pet names, disrespectful behaviour, nudity, Sub & Dom dynamics, subspace, punishment, crying, spanking, little angsty.

Pairing: Wolfstar x GN!Reader.

Word count: 2,300.

"I'm just trying to help you, Bunny, it'll make it easier for you," Remus muttered mindlessly as he skimmed the pages of his book. I rolled my eyes and huffed out a breath before throwing my own potions book on the bed away from me, sour-faced.

"Y/N, watch your attitude." Sirius piped up, raising his eyebrow at me. I ignored him and buried my face in the blankets of Moony's bed. I knew the use of my name instead of a nickname was a serious warning rather than a passing comment but I wasn't in the mood for him to complain about my behaviour. I was stressed, overtired, overworked, overwhelmed and in need of an escape into my subspace but hadn't had the chance for a while.

"I'm just saying, if you don't get some work done now then you'll end up stressing and cramming all your work in at the last minute. You know I'm right Bun." I scoffed, lifting my head as I sat up and staring at the lycanthrope who looked rather surprised at me.

"I'm not a child Remus, I know how to manage myself." I shot back, glaring slightly as I hopped off the bed in a huff.

"Last warning Y/N, you won't be told again." I met Sirius' gaze, challenging him slightly with a scowl.

"Whatever," I knew I was being unreasonable but my bad mood had taken over completely. "Stop acting like you know everything Remus." That was my last word before I grabbed my bag and stormed out of their dorm and down to the black lake for some alone time.

———————————————————————————————

Two days had passed since I had spoken to Remus like crap and on the first day I didn't speak to either of them, knowing they were too pissed off, the second-day things seemed to have settled a little, speaking to me but not being as close and open as they usually were. The guilt of the situation had hit me hard and I scolded myself in my head every hour as I watched how Remmy had shut down a little, distancing himself. I had nested myself into bed at night in the girl's dorm, feeling unusually cold because my boys weren't cuddling me to sleep but I was also too stubborn and hated apologising.

Knowing if I didn't apologise it wouldn't be resolved, I had stashed myself way in their dorm room after my lessons so that when they got back from their lessons I would be there and I could bite back my stubbornness and say I was sorry to my boyfriends. I had planted myself in the middle of Remus' bed with my books around me, completing homework, so that I would be the first thing he saw when he walked in which meant he couldn't avoid me. I had changed out of my uniform shirt and gown into one of his shirts and the bottom half of my uniform to be more comfortable and mostly so I could smell him around me.

Just as I had predicted, Moony walked in first, laughing alongside Sirius, until his gaze fell upon mine and then the laughing stopped much to my disappointment; I loved the sound of his laugh. He walked over to his bed, placing his things on the bedside table before I caught his attention by holding my arms out for a hug. I knew he wouldn't deny me a hug even though he was mad. I wrapped my arms around him and cuddled into his neck, guilt setting in again when he kissed my cheek.

"How was your day Poppet?" I peeked over Remmy's shoulder at Siri, giving him a small, unsure smile.

"Boring and tiring, my head feels frazzled," I muttered, pouting slightly. Remus released me from the hug and continued to put all his things away, changing into sweatpants and a cardigan as he went. I watched with sad eyes as they flickered between the two marauders. I was staring at my hands in my lap as Remus came and sat on his bed, book in hand, and rested on the headboard. I crawled over to him, biting my lip unsurely before sitting beside him and waiting for him to look up.

"What do you need?" He raised an eyebrow but didn't look up, his voice was flat and void of emotion. I had really upset him this time. "You just gonna sit there watching hmm?" I shook my head and lifted up his chin so he would look at me.

"I wanted to say sorry Moony, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that and I know it was wrong." His eyes observed me the whole time as I fought the tremble of my lip. "I didn't mean what I said and I won't do it again. I know you're jus' trying to look after me." I played with his fingers as I spoke, a nervous feeling running through me at the thought of him not accepting the apology and hating me.

"Thank you for apologising Bun, I'm glad that you recognised your mistake and were able to be brave about it. I just care about you is all and I don't want you making yourself ill over work. Next time just listen if I advise you on something okay?" He soothed, his hand squeezing mine as I nodded at him. "Good." I smiled slightly, looking up at him. I knew this wouldn't be all, after all, I was due a punishment and was happy to take it, I had behaved badly after all.

"Y/N come on Poppet, the sooner this is over the sooner you can cuddle and rest." Sirius beckoned me over but not before Remus gave me a quick kiss on the lips, making me smile against him. I stood in front of Sirius as he made himself comfortable on the big armchair, my hands crossed in front of my lap. "Strip to your underwear Poppet." I did as I was told, not wanting to get in any more trouble but left my socks on to keep my toes warm. He nodded as I did and folded my uniform onto the chest at the end of his bed. Within seconds I was back in front of him and he had his hands on my hips. "Now, you know you have to be punished for your behaviour s'be a good Puppy and take what you're given, okay?" I let my eyes glance to Remmy on his bed who sat reading his book, letting Sirius get on with the task at hand. Siri began to pull me closer to him, so he could lay me across his lap but before he could I planted my feet firmly on the ground. The look of annoyance on his face unnerved me, making Remus look up at my defiance but I pouted at him sadly.

"Remmy, I'm sorry," I whispered, "Siri kisses?" My eyebrows furrowed as I bit my lip and tangled my fingers together.

"Of course Poppet." A grin spread on his face as he pulled me in for a kiss, being gentle and comforting as he brushed my hair behind my ear. He knew how on-edge punishments got me and was typically gentle unless he was in a terrorising kind of mood. "Now do as you're told and lay across m'lap, don't want more punishment than is needed do we?" The question was rhetorical and a warning at the same time so I wrapped my arms around his leg whilst I laid myself on his legs, face down.

I braced myself for the first swat as he rubbed my butt, running his fingers over my pale skin which we both knew wouldn't last long. My body tensed as his hand was removed and came down on my flesh with a crack. It wasn't the worst I'd had off him but I knew it would feel worse once my skin started to welt and become more sensitive. The second one came quickly after and I winced at the feeling, shifting uncomfortably until his free hand came to rest on my back, both comforting me and holding me still. I became more sensitive every time his hand came into contact with my ass, after trying to keep my eyes open the tears began to sting them and I squeezed them shut as I whimpered and winced at the pain, my body jolting with each hit.

It felt like I had laid there for hours as each swat followed on from the next, alternating between each side and different areas so it didn't do too much damage. My whimpers soon turned into little cries and then into full-grown sobs which I huffed out, gripping the material of Sirius' trousers as tears spilt over my cheeks and onto the fabric. I had given up wriggling around and trying to stay quiet, knowing it was pointless as my skin seared. Broken sobs filled the room as the spanking came to an end, leaving me with a welted ass, tear streaks everywhere and laboured breathing. Once he had finished, Sirius leaned down and pressed a small kiss to my sore skin, rubbing his thumb over my back in comfort.

"Okay, Poppet, all done now." He sat me up gently so my legs were on either side of his body, smiling at me as I whined when my skin pressed against his trouser material. There was the terrorising side of him, amused by my discomfort.

"All done?" I whimpered, rubbing my eyes as I hiccuped out more sobs.

"Yes Poppet, all done. You took it so well, like a good puppy." I nodded and fell forward onto his chest with a small huff in exhaustion as he soothed me. My hands shook as they curled into his hair, playing with the strands whilst Remmy wandered around the room to find something. I struggled to keep my eyes open as tiredness and headspace set in making me feel fuzzy and soft.

"Bunny, you have to let us put some cream on before you sleep, where do you want to lie." Remus appeared in front of me with a concerned look on his face. I opened my eyes as wide as I could, pouting at his statement but sitting up slowly. I tried to ignore the soreness of my skin as I did but the way the material rubbed against it made the tears appear once more. With an accompanying cry, I held my arms up at the lycanthrope, making grabby hands as he cooed at me. "Okay Bunny, I've got you little one." He recognised the signs of subspace and picked me up, holding me to his chest as I wrapped my legs around him. The two walked over to Remus' bed and sat down with me lying on Moony's chest so my backside was accessible. "Y'gonna let Pads put some aloe on Bunny, it'll help with the pain." I nodded, remembering the reason I had gotten myself into this mess and scooting up Remmy's chest to rest my head in the crook of his neck for my own comfort.

I hissed as the cold cream came into contact with my hot skin, soothing the red, hand-print-shaped welts as I tightened my grip on my Dom. Once in a while, a whimper escaped my throat and a kiss was pressed to my head or the small of my back as they both soothed me. The cream had been applied generously before they manoeuvred me into a loose pair of their boxers and left on Remmy's shirt. I clambered back onto Moony's lap and nuzzled into his chest, drawing patterns on his cardigan as he petted my head sweetly.

"You did so good for Pads today Bun, I'm so proud of you." His coos filled me with happiness and I sighed in relief.

"I thought y'both wouldn't want me anymore 'cause of the way I spoke to you Remmy," I muttered into his chest, fingers tightening in the material of his cardigan. "You do still want me right?"

"Hey little one, of course, we do, we'll always want you Y/N, a bit of bad behaviour because you've got a lot going on isn't going to change that." He lifted my head so I could look into his eyes as he spoke and I nodded, biting my lip. Sirius came to join us on the bed and sat beside Remmy leaning against the headboard.

"Don't ever think we don't want you Poppet," He chipped in, "We know it's difficult for you and sometimes you need something to help you relax or put you back in your place. There are times when you're gonna lash out but that doesn't mean we'll ever not want you." I giggled as he tickled my ribs gently, rolling his eyes playfully at Remus' warning look as if to tell him not to get me wound up when I needed to rest.

"Come on now Bunny, settle down and get some rest." Remmy laid me between the both when he noticed me rubbing my eyes with balled-up fists, yawning as my body started to shut down. I cuddled into Remus' side as I burrowed between them both, too tired to care about my skin rubbing against the material of the boxers lightly.

Night Remmy, Night Siri," I mumbled with closed eyes, smiling as a blanket was pulled over me and Sirius cuddled me from behind, careful of my butt. "Love you both so much."

"Goodnight Bunny." Remus soothed, kissing my head.

"We love you too, Poppet," Sirius added, kissing my shoulder.

And with that, I fell into the best sleep I'd had in the past week, glad I'd made up with the two most important people in my life.

#wizarding world x reader #wizarding world imagines #wizarding world #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #brat!reader #sub!reader #dom!remus lupin #sirius black #sirius black x reader #dom!sirius black

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sweetchildcloud · 8 months ago

Note

Hi I have a request...well hello... Sorry I don't know what else to say so I'll just skip to the part where I put in my request. I want to ask for Gojo with a f!reader who is also a special grade sorcerer. She felt under strain from her excessive number of missions and was slowly falling to the dark side like Geto, and she always acted like she was fine when she was with Gojo but was still somehow discovered by him. I've been feeling down a lot lately and everything is stressing me out. I'm having lots of negative thoughts. I really need a hug (long hug, lots of hug) or some comforts.

||Don't fall|| written by me

Gojo x f!reader| Minors DNI| TRIGGER WARNING

Tags:overworked reader,depression,Gojo x reader,cute,fluff,swearing

i'm no english native so sorry for some mistakes

please reblog 🔁 and like❤️

P.s: it was kinda difficult writing this but i hope you like it darling and im writing this at 12:12 am

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl @kiwicopia

You, a special grade sorcerer yourself, have a massive burden on your shoulders. You get assigned an unusual amount of missions and are constantly pushing yourself to the limit. Your resolve is being tested, and you are slowly falling to the dark side just like Geto did.

When around Gojo, you try to act like everything is fine and act like nothing has changed. But somehow, he's still noticed. You're starting to lose hope, and his concern for you is the only thing keeping you from slipping completely.

"Are you okay?" Gojo asks quietly, stepping closer to you. You pretend that everything is fine, but he can clearly see through it. He's always had a way of reading you like a book.

You shrug, trying to hide the fact that you're on the brink of burnout. "I'm fine" you say, putting up a brave face. "Just tired"

"You're working too hard" Gojo says, his voice softer than usual. He's worried about you, and it shows. "I know these missions are important, but I'm worried about you."

His concern is the only thing keeping you from slipping even further onto the path of darkness. You shrug again, trying to pretend like it's nothing, but you know the truth. You're not fine.

"I'll be fine." You try to sound convincing, but Gojo knows you well enough to see through your facade. You're hiding how overworked and stressed out you are, and he knows it. "I'm just tired" you repeat, trying to sound more confident than you actually feel.

This isn't the first time he's voiced his concern about you, but you're adamant that you can handle it. You try to be strong and push through despite how exhausted you are. You want to prove that you can do this.

"I know you're strong…" Gojo says, staring at you intently. You can't help but meet his gaze. His eyes seem to pierce right through you.

"… But you can't keep working yourself this hard. You're burning out. I'm worried about you."

He's right, and now you're starting to admit it. You've been pushing yourself too hard for too long, and it's finally taking its toll on you. You can feel your resolve slipping away, and it scares you.

"I'll… I'll be fine" you say again, your voice wavering slightly this time. You feel like you've been pushing yourself too hard for far too long, and it's catching up with you. Gojo's concern is starting to get to you, and you're starting to admit that you're not alright.

"I promise you" you add firmly, trying to convince yourself as much as him. "I can handle it. I just need to keep pushing."

"You're starting to sound like Geto." Gojo says softly, his tone laced with worry. He knows how intense Geto was when it came to his missions, always refusing to take breaks or time off. He's scared that you're turning into him.

You try to assure Gojo that you're nothing like Geto, but he doesn't seem convinced. He knows you too well to believe that just because you say you're fine that means you really are. He's stubborn, and he won't quit until he knows that you're truly alright.

“I’m not like Geto.” You try to argue, but even you know that you sound more and more like him with every passing day. You can hear the similarities in your own tone, and it’s unnerving.

Gojo seems unconvinced, and his expression remains serious. He doesn't want you to go down the same path as Geto. The two of you have grown closer over the last few months, and he's seen how much you're struggling. He's trying to keep you on the right track.

"Afraid that i will leave you or kill some "monkey"?" You asked sternly

“Both, actually” Gojo replies curtly, a hint of playfulness in his tone despite the seriousness of the conversation. He is completely aware that you have developed a short temper and tendency towards hostility over the past few months. He is also aware that you are slowly descending deeper into darkness.

“The monkey comment was a bit uncalled for though…” Gojo adds, unable to contain a smirk.

"Well that what humans are,monkeys who fights and kill other humans for their own benifith no? so why i cant get rid of those monkeys?" You asked sounding serious looking at Gojo.

"Because that would make you no better than them." Gojo replies, his tone once again hardening. "Humans can be cruel, yes, but that doesn't give you the right to act as judge, jury, and executioner. Killing without mercy simply because you have the power to do so is not right."

Gojo is trying to appeal to your sense of morality. He knows you have the power to do many terrible things, the power that Geto also possessed. But he wants you to stay on the path of justice.

"That's what Geto did, and look where he ended up" Gojo adds quietly. "He became a twisted, vengeful person who only sought to spread destruction."

He doesn't want you to go down the same path as Geto. The last thing the world needs is another Geto. You have the power to do many great things, but you also have the power to cause tremendous damage.

"And what's the difference between me and him?" you ask sharply, your tone harsh as you try to justify your actions. "I have the ability to eliminate those I deem unworthy, so why shouldn't I?"

Your morals have become twisted over time, tainted by the power of darkness. You're slowly starting to believe that ending the lives of people you deem as unworthy is the only way to truly restore peace. Gojo's concern is starting to grow.

"Because you're not supposed to kill those you deem unworthy" Gojo replies quietly, the playfulness now gone from his tone. He's starting to realize just how far you've fallen down the path towards madness. "We're sorcerers, not god. We don't get to decide who lives and who dies."

Gojo is trying to remind you of your duty as a sorcerer, to hunt cursed spirits and protect the innocent. He's trying to convince you that what you're doing is wrong and that it'll only end in more destruction.

"But why are we supposed to protect the ignorant weak mortals?" you ask, a hint of disdain in your voice. "We have the power to punish and rid the world of them, so why shouldn't we?"

You're starting to sound more and more like Geto every time you speak. Gojo's concern is reaching a fever pitch. He knows that if you continue with this way of thinking, there's no turning back.

"Because they're people." Gojo replies, his voice becoming more and more forceful. "They're not animals that need to be punished simply because they're weaker than us. They're human just like us, and they deserve to live."

He's trying to appeal to your humanity, hoping to get you to see them as fellow human beings instead of "weak mortals" that need to be punished. He's trying to get you to remember who you used to be, before you started to fall.

"And look what they did to me,to us! they don't fucking care,even if we kill a spirit they will blame us for other stuff and i work for those fucking ungrateful monkeys!" you shouted as you broke down crying

Gojo listens as you vent, letting down the walls you've built up around yourself. The pain and bitterness in your voice is clear to him, and he can see how much you have come to resent humans.

He's aware of your struggles, the way that humans have let you down and blamed you for things that weren't your fault. It's the reason you now have this deep-seated hatred of them.

He understands your hurt, but he still doesn't think that that justifies taking lives indiscriminately.

“I know you’ve been through a lot, and those humans did you wrong” Gojo says, speaking slowly and calmly, trying to reassure you while also being firm with you. “But you can’t just turn around and do the same to them. That’s not justice. It’s only fueling the cycle of hatred and death.”

He wants you to see the bigger picture, to realize that punishing humans isn’t the answer. He’s trying to appeal to your sense of morality, trying to get you to understand that killing isn’t the solution.

--#---#----#--#---#----#--#---#----#--#---#----#--#---#----#--#---

Gojo notices the cracks forming in the ground beneath your feet, and he immediately tries to step in to comfort you. He knows that your emotions are running rampant and that your power is becoming unchecked.

He quickly moves to your side, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace. He can feel your pain, your hurt, and your confusion surrounding everything that's happened. He knows that you're struggling, and he's trying his best to provide you with the comfort and support that you need.

"Shh, it's alright…" Gojo whispered, gently running his hands through your hair. "Shh, take a deep breath…"

His voice is calming and reassuring, filled with understanding and compassion that you haven't felt in a long while. He's trying to soothe you, to ease the chaos inside you. He's trying his best to make you feel heard and cared for.

"Look at me…" He says quietly, holding your face gently. "Look at me…"

Gojo wants you to focus on him, to get your mind out of the place it's currently in. He's trying to ground you, to pull you out of the spiral of emotions you've found yourself in.

"Breathe…" He says calmly, gently brushing away the stray tears from your cheeks. "Just breathe…"

Gojo is trying to help you calm down and get your emotions under control.

"Okay…" Your breathing starts to slow to a normal rate, and your emotions begin to stabilize. Gojo keeps his arms around you, continuing to hold you tightly. He's not letting go until you're completely calm and in control again.

He continues to hold you, not leaving your side until you have managed to calm down completely. He's offering you the comfort and support that you so badly need right now. He's not going to leave until you're back to your usual self.

Gojo understands your emotions better than anyone else. He knows how much pain and suffering you've gone through. He knows how much you've been mistreated and betrayed. He knows how much you've been hurt, and he wants to make it all go away.

"I…I'm better now" you say quietly, finally taking a deep breath and managing to compose yourself. You are still in his arms, and he does not seem inclined to let you go just yet.

He keeps you close, not letting you get away until he is sure that you are truly okay and no longer spiraling. He's worried about you, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to ensure that you're safe and in control.

You stiffened when you felt Gojo snuggling his cheek in the crook of your neck and shoulder "G..gojo?"

Gojo doesn't answer immediately, the silence hanging in the air between you as he continued to hold you close. His cheek is nuzzled against your neck, his arms still wrapped tightly around you.

It feels… surprisingly comforting, having him so close to you like this. You've never had anyone cuddle with you in such a manner before… and it feels nice. Maybe too nice.

"Hmm?" Gojo asks after a moment, his voice low and quiet. He's still holding you close to his body, his arms wrapped around you tightly as if he won't let go anytime soon.

You can feel the tension building between you, both emotionally and physically. The way that he's holding you… it makes your body tingle with awareness. There's a spark between you that's palpable, and the longer you are in this position, the hotter it burns.

"no..nothing..just…" you wrapped your hands around his torso underneath his arms "don't let go"

"Never." Gojo replies simply, not moving an inch. If anything, he only holds you closer to his body, pressing you even more firmly against him as he refuses to let you go.

The physical contact between the two of you is intense, almost too much to bear. Your bodies are so close that you can almost feel every muscle straining at the touch. Your hands wrap around his torso, your grip tightening, and he seems to take comfort in the way that you cling to him.

Gojo leans his head slightly down, his cheek pressing softly against your neck. You can feel his breath tickling your skin, and you find yourself leaning into him. He's so warm and close to you, and you're finding it hard to resist the urge to push the boundaries and get even closer.

The electricity in the air grows stronger with every passing moment, both of you feeling the tension between you. Your hands move up to the small of his back, and he holds you even tighter.

He pulls you even closer, feeling a surge of warmth radiate from within his body as he holds you in his arms. His body's heat is soothing your soul and helping to fill the empty void within you.

The exhaustion and depression you still feel melts away slightly as you bury yourself further into his chest, pressing yourself into his warm embrace. You're finding more and more comfort in a position you haven't been in before, and you can feel a slight smile on your face despite everything that has happened.

Gojo continues to hold you tightly, not letting go for a second. His arms are strong, yet comfortable as he holds you to his chest. You can feel his breathing quicken as you lay your head against his body, his warmth seeping into your own.

The fatigue you still feel slowly melts away, replaced by a feeling of contentment and safety. You're starting to relax, to feel at ease. You're feeling more and more comfortable in his arms, and you have a creeping sense of safety that is starting to take root inside your mind.

Gojo continues to hold you in his arms, his own fatigue melting away as well. The physical contact between the two of you is refreshing, easing the weight of the tension on both of your bodies.

You can feel the tiredness slowly fade away the longer you stay in this position, your breathing beginning to slow again and your mind becoming quieter with each passing second. The safety you're feeling is both physical and emotional, his presence offering you an outlet to relax and a sense of comfort that you've been missing for so long.

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techhiz · 11 months ago

Text

Chained Partners

! this is a series ! i./ii./... __________________________________

Husk's usual haunt in the Hazbin Hotel was the bar. It was a place of solace and familiarity, where he could drown his sorrows in alcohol and avoid whatever madness was unfolding in the rest of the hotel. But today, as he poured himself another drink, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

The familiar crackle of the radio cut through the air, and Husk's ears perked up. He followed the sound, weaving his way through the crowded hotel corridors until he found himself outside a room he'd never been to before. Curiosity piqued, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

There, standing in the center of the room, was Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon. And beside him stood Y/n, their expression a mix of fear and determination. Alastor's trademark grin never faltered as he held out his hand, making some sort of deal with Y/n.

Husk's heart clenched in his chest as he watched the exchange, a bitter taste rising in his throat. He knew all too well the consequences of making deals with demons, especially one as powerful and unpredictable as Alastor.

"What's going on here?" Husk demanded, his voice sharp with anger.

Y/n's gaze snapped to him, their eyes wide with guilt and fear. "H-Husk, I... I'm sorry, I had no choice."

Husk felt his chest tighten with betrayal. He thought he knew Y/n, trusted them even, but now it seemed they were just like everyone else in Hell—willing to do whatever it took to survive, even if it meant selling their soul to a demon.

But as he looked into their tear-filled eyes, Husk felt a pang of sympathy. They were scared, just like he had been when he first arrived in Hell. Maybe they hadn't fully understood the consequences of their actions.

"Come on, Y/n," Alastor said, his voice dripping with faux sweetness. "Time to seal the deal."

Husk clenched his fists, his jaw tightening in anger. He wanted to lash out, to tear Alastor limb from limb for what he was doing to Y/n. But he knew he couldn't. Alastor was too powerful, and going up against him would only end in disaster.

Instead, Husk watched helplessly as Y/n hesitantly reached out and placed their hand in Alastor's. The deal was done, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

As Alastor disappeared in a cloud of smoke, leaving Y/n trembling in his wake, Husk felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him. Despite everything, he couldn't bear to see them like this—scared and alone.

"Come here," he murmured, wrapping his arms around Y/n and pulling them into a comforting embrace. "It's gonna be okay, I promise."

Y/n buried their face in his chest, their tears soaking his fur. "I'm sorry, Husk," they whispered, their voice choked with emotion. "I didn't mean to... I didn't know..."

Husk sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of their head. "I know, sweetheart. But now that it's done, we'll figure it out together. I won't let anything happen to you, I swear."

They stayed like that for a long time, clinging to each other as they processed what had just happened. Despite the fear and uncertainty that loomed over them, Husk couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. As long as they had each other, they could face whatever Hell threw their way.

And maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to break free from the demons' grasp and forge their own path to redemption.

But little did they know, their private moment of despair and resolve hadn't gone unnoticed. Angel Dust, ever the gossip, had stumbled upon the scene, his eyes widening in shock as he witnessed the exchange between Y/n and Alastor. His first instinct was to rush off and tell Charlie and Vaggie, but as he turned to leave, he caught sight of Husk's haunted expression.

For a moment, Angel hesitated, torn between his loyalty to his friends and his newfound sympathy for the gruff cat demon. He knew Husk would want to know what had happened, but he also knew that seeing Y/n in such a vulnerable state would only cause him more pain.

In the end, Angel made a difficult decision. He would keep Husk's secret, at least for now. But he couldn't shake the feeling that the truth would come out eventually, and when it did, it would shatter the fragile peace of the Hazbin Hotel once and for all.

#hazbin hotel #techhiz work #husk x reader #hazbin hotel series

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avatar-anna · 2 years ago

Text

Better Man

just a little angst about better man (taylor's version)!

Sometimes in the middle of the night I can feel you again, but I just miss you and I just wish you were a better man.

You knew letting him past the front door was a bad idea, but you didn't always have the strongest resolve, especially when it came to your ex.

Harry was laying on the other side of your bed, his back turned to you as he slept soundly on familiar sheets. You should've been asleep, but it didn't come. So you stayed awake, staring at Harry's back as it rose and fell. You admired his broad shoulders, the constellation of freckles all over, the birthmark. It was a familiar canvas, but it wasn't yours anymore. Him being here didn't change that.

"I can feel you staring," Harry mumbled, words pushed together like he was still half asleep.

"Sorry," you said before turning over.

There were only a few beats of silence before you heard sheets rustling as Harry shifted and draped an arm across you. The scent of his cologne was dizzying as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Out with it then," he said, sounding a little more awake.

"I don't know what you mean."

"I know you, Y/n. You sleep like the dead unless something is on your mind."

He was right, of course, but that was part of the problem. He knew you too well.

"I just…miss you, that's all."

And God did you miss him. Harry was…well, you thought he was everything. For years, the two of you were inseparable, so incredibly in sync with each other. Harry brought out the best in you, made you comfortable in your own skin. He made you feel seen and taken care of and loved.

Until he didn't.

Breaking up with Harry was the hardest thing you'd ever done. It was messy, he didn't see it coming—which was another problem of its own—there were periods where you would somehow end up sleeping in each other's homes for days at a time afterwards, and the periods when those days ended felt soul crushing. Losing him felt like losing a part of yourself. Harry loved you, that was never a question. He just…he wasn't what you needed anymore.

"I miss you too. Constantly," he said. "But you don't have to, you know. Miss me. I've always been right here."

You kissed his arm. "I know, but we broke up for a reason, Harry."

He sighed, because he never could grasp why things ended, he couldn't figure out why you would ever want to leave him. As much as you loved each other, you were on different pages, wanted different things, became different people—or rather, he changed and you stayed the same. Harry was at a point in his career where the whole world was at his fingertips, and he wanted it too, wanted to reach and reach and reach. You didn't blame him for that, he was good at what he did, out of this world. But he'd made promises before, when he was just yours. When the world called, he changed his mind, and he wanted you to change yours with him.

Part of you knew that perhaps he'd made those promises out of fear of losing you, that he wasn't the type to believe in a simple kind of love. It always had to be more with Harry. And perhaps he wasn't aware, but you knew it was because he was afraid of love, of letting people see the worst parts of him along with the best. You knew that and fell in love with him anyway. He would be the one to break your heart but you let him do it happily.

"I love you. Can't that be enough?"

You did your best to hide a sniffle. "I wish it was, but something has always held you back from me," you said, your thumb running along his arm. "I won't settle for anything less than what I deserve."

"Then why keep letting me in?"

"Because you're a hard man to say no to, Harry Styles," you laughed, but it was more sad than humorous. Even as you talked about being apart, all you wanted to do was pull him even closer. In a lot of ways, Harry still felt like home. You were safe right there in bed wrapped up in him. "And despite my best efforts, I'm still in love with you."

Harry sighed and pulled you closer to his chest. "I want you. I can't even think about anyone else. It makes no sense for us to be broken up when we both want the same thing."

"But we don't," you said. "You want me on the sidelines cheering you on with no ambitions of my own."

"That's not—"

"You want me to watch while others throw themselves at you and pretend like it's fine because it's all for show. You want me to be another trophy in your collection, Harry, and I—I'm so much more than that."

You twisted around to face him, only to find that there were tears lining his eyes. You hated seeing him cry. It always twisted your gut into a tight knot.

"Is that really what you think of me?" he asked, sounding hurt, betrayed.

"You told me you loved me, that you wanted me in your life, but I was never a part of it," you said.

Harry had promised that nothing would ever change, that he only wanted to take on the world if he had you by his side. And you believed him at first, but somehow you'd fallen to the wayside. He left you to fend for yourself at parties with people you didn't know, took on more opportunities and projects that kept him and you apart for longer periods of time, going out almost every night and sleeping through the day, leaving you such little time alone with him. Sometimes it felt like the only way to see him was in an interview or music video.

And the moments when you had him all to yourself were perfect. He was completely and totally yours. He doted on you, took you on dates, made you breakfast in bed. He made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world, and in those moments, you knew he loved you, that he would never be tempted by anyone else. Harry really was yours, you could feel it with every cell of your body.

But those moments were fleeting. He was gone for longer periods of time, and you didn't know how to make him understand that you needed him to stay longer than the few days off he got while touring. For a long time, those stolen moments were enough, until they weren't anymore. Harry stayed away longer, and you felt him slipping. The hand you had wasn't a winning one, so you folded before he could break your heart. Well, more than breaking up with him did.

This wasn't a life together, it was just his, and you were along for the ride.

"I wanted to build a life for us. I wanted to make myself into someone you would be proud of," he said.

Your smile was sad as you threaded a hand through his hair. "I've never not been proud of you. You've always been enough, H, I don't know why you've never seen it."

To say Harry was complicated was an understatement. Even when you met he had his fair share of demons. But everyone did, and you loved him as he was. As he began to gain notoriety, he began reinventing himself, to be someone that was loved by everyone. You knew who he was was enough, but you couldn't get through to him, he needed validation from the world. Once you realized how deep that insecurity was rooted, you knew you couldn't fix him, he needed to do it himself. And you deserved someone who wasn't so obsessed with seeking approval from others that they overlooked the people that loved them most.

"All I ever wanted was to give you the world," he whispered, his gaze trained on where your hand was still on his cheek.

"All I ever needed was you," you replied, moving your hand to rest it over his heart. "I'd like to believe that the man I met so many years ago is in there somewhere, but I can't count on waiting to see him again. I—I'm not going to put myself in a position to make you choose when I know what your choice would be."

You didn't really believe that fame was something that would ever change Harry, but it did. Or it preyed on his deepest insecurities, and he let it happen. You loved him, and it hurt to see him so broken, especially when he didn't even seem to realize it, but you couldn't hold his hand while he untangled his messes anymore.

"I love you," he said again. "I have never stopped loving you."

"I have seen every facet of who you are, and I've never loved you less, flaws and all," you said, and it was true. Despite everything, Harry was a hard person not to love, and there were moments where he made you feel like you were more important to him than anything else in his life. The secret smiles and stolen kisses and songs that were made just for you. He was the kind of person that burned so brightly, but that also meant he cast just as big a shadow, and those shadows could be all-consuming. "You're a good man, Harry. I just…I think I just deserve better than you."

Harry didn't argue with you about it. He didn't try to contradict you or give you a list of reasons why you should be together. He just hung his head and held you close, a shuddering breath escaping his lips. You let yourself rest your cheek against his chest, his skin warm and familiar. It felt so right to be there, you couldn't fathom anyone else feeling as good as Harry did. Maybe no one ever would.

Wrapped up like this, your eyes grew heavy, and it became harder and harder to stay awake. Harry hadn't fallen asleep yet, you could tell just by the erratic beat of his heart against your cheek. Moving your head just to the side, you kissed him right there, right where his heart laid beneath his chest. Your heart squeezed, as if it knew this was the last time you would be letting Harry through your front door.

Turning your head to the side once more, you let yourself fall asleep on his chest, a couple tears slipping past your tired eyes.

Still awake, Harry ran a hand through your hair, letting the silky soft strands fall through his fingers. "I can be better," he whispered. Not to you, but to himself. "I'll be better. I promise."

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fbfh · 7 months ago

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Tony stark x daughter!reader where reader got SA'd and is having a hard time telling her dad?

usa/english/rainn hotline 1-800-656-4673 (also european hotlines, 46 countries listed).

first of all anon I want to give you the biggest most sincere virtual hug. absolutely we can talk about what an amazing dad Tony is, especially under these circumstances. (disclaimer that I don't have much if any experience writing about SA/SA trauma, I did some reasearch and as with all topics I don't have much experience in, pls take this with a grain of salt and feel free to send feedback if you'd like <3 /p)

Tony knows something is off with you immediatley. he's had a weird feeling he can't shake, but Pepper keeps dismissing it as more anxiety. When he first sees you after what happened, his stomach drops. He knows something is wrong, he knows his baby isn't okay, and he is going to make things right no matter what happened. You normally have such an easy time talking to him, but now you can't, and he knows it's serious. He doesn't press you for details right away (after asking if you're okay and doing all the usual dad check in stuff), but he knows you need him. He pulls you into a warm, comforting hug and rubs your back. You can hear the thrum of his arc reactor syncing with his heartbeat, and the white noise is so soothing and comforting and he's such a good dad who loves you so much it all makes you cry again.

"What happened?"

He asks so seriously, you know he understands the gravity of the situation. You try to tell him, but you get all choked up again, and you just... can't. He holds you and comforts you, rubbing your back and talking to you until you start to feel better.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay. It's okay." He says in that dad voice that snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts. "You don't have talk about anything yet if you're not ready. Okay?"

You nod, and he wipes your tears away. His hands smell a little like metal, and you know he's been working on his suits.

"Tell you what. Why don't we get some shwarma delivered from that place a few blocks over, we'll pick out a couple movies - what was that one you said you wanted to show me? The really bad one with the birds?"

You nod, but you don't laugh. He wraps you up in his blue hoodie, and has Jarvis call to order your food. He stays close to you, sending Pepper a message to cancel everything he has to do right now, the penthouse is on lockdown until this is resolved. He stays close to you, making sure you feel safe. He wants more than anything to know what happened, who hurt you, what was said or done to upset you like this. While your food is on the way and the movie is loading, the penthouse is quiet aside from your muffled sobs. Tony holds you, rocks you gently, comforts you. After a while, he pulls back enough to wipe your tears away and look at you. He gives you that dad look, the serious heart to heart one.

"I want to make this, whatever it is, better." He states, and you know he means it. He would move heaven and earth for you without hesitation, and he has in the past, and he'll do it again.

"But you need to tell me what's going on. I can't fix the problem if I don't know what it is."

Everything about your dad is so comforting, it makes your throat tighten up and your eyes well up with tears again. You try to explain through choked out, shuddering sobs, but you just can't get the words out.

"Okay, okay," Tony comforts you, bringing up one of his holographic screens he uses for work. A translucent glowing holographic keyboard appears in front of you.

"Why don't you try writing it out?" He offers, hoping that will be easier.

By the time you're done writing out what happened, you look over at him. You're almost scared for a moment, a part of your racing anxiety worried that he won't believe you, or he'll blame you, or-

"Thank you for telling me."

he pulls you into an even tighter hug, holding you close, and his voice shakes as he speaks.

"You did the right thing by telling me, okay?" He comforts you and reassures you that it's not your fault, that you're safe, and that he is never, ever going to let that happen again. Through every battle and alien invasion, you've never seen your dad this protective, this pissed on your behalf.

He gets a little more information from you, the location, the time, if you know who it was. He hacks into anything and everything with a camera until he finds the son of a bitch who hurt you. Then he sends out the drones. He has Stark drones, armed to the teeth, follow the bastard's every move, monitoring him while Tony gets everything together. He gets you counciling and resources, he calls you out of work or school or whatever so you have some time home to recover. If you want to file a police report, believe me he will get it filed immediately. If you don't want to, Tony has other ways of getting your attacker off the streets and away from you for good. Maybe he plants classified shield information on him and gets him thrown in a maximum security prison, maybe he pays someone to blast him into another universe. You don't really know the details, and you don't really want to. All you know is that your dad comes into your room after "making a few calls", and informs you that he's never, ever going to bother you again.

He does whatever you need him to do so you feel as safe and empowered as possible. Your suit gets upgraded, security systems get maxed out, and Tony finds a way to hook Jarvis up to keep an eye on your vitals.

"I'll get a ping if your adrenaline or cortisol spike, or if anything else looks iffy." he explains, hooking up the new system. "Even if it's just a stressful day, I'll know what kind of ben and jerry's to bring you."

You thank him again, and he hugs you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"I love you, kid."

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