#anxious and stressed and dreading every moment

[bioshocked-astroghost]

Before anyone reads this please remember this is just personal opinion please don’t yell at me for anything but if u disagree obv that’s fine!!!

Finally finally FINALLY watched OFMD s2 and I’ve just got to say what the actual FUCK just happened

Like I wanted some angst but somehow this felt like TOO sharp of a turn

Also maybe it’s because I binged it with my friend in one afternoon but did anyone else feel like even though it mostly made sense it felt disjointed and kinda rushed??? I felt like I couldn’t keep up with where everyone was at emotionally

Loved the new female characters but. They felt very lacking :/ I did really like Zheng but I’m very conflicted on her taking over the crew but You know. Whatever I guess

Also it was still funny but I felt like majority of the humor was missing :/

As for final thoughts. FUCK that ending my baby is NOT DEAD AND YOU CAN PRY IZZY FROM MY WRETCHED AND DAMNED DEAD HANDS (I got a little lucky in this regard, I saw a spoiler for his death a couple weeks ago so I could prepare myself) also fuck Ed and Steve becoming innkeepers sorry but no

Idk man the ending didn’t even feel bittersweet to me I just felt hollow in the end. I feel like I was robbed. I felt the same way about the ending that I did with GoT which I know sounds insane cuz it was so much bigger but it’s like. Everyone got split up. They finally found their way back to each other. The big climax comes and goes. Then for some fucking reason the party splits again and it feels like a final goodbye to each other and I fucking hate it

Anyway. Still grateful we got a season 2 but I’m pretty sure the fanfic These Waves Will Pull Me Under by @underthecouchh will always be the canon s2 in my head (fantastic fic btw. U should read it)

[theegyal]

FADED, (SMOKE X ANNIE) SINNERS FANFICTION

I’m sorry for the wait ! To apologize I wrote down y’all, the best smut I can do (I’m very bad at it 😂), flustering every time

WARNING : Smut, angst.

CHAPTER 10

Stack pressed both hands to the wound, but it still pulsed out, fresh and warm, soaking through Lottie's dress and into his palms.

He lifted her up, arms beneath her shoulders, head lolling back like a broken doll, and staggered up the creakin' basement stairs.

Sammie, bless his fast feet, had already taken the truck, settin' off to get Annie home.

Obedient and a pretty smart boy ! but now Stack was stuck, desperation clawing at his throat.

"Damn, nigga  gimme them keys! Where that car at?"  he bellowed.

Smoke came into view then, eyes widening like saucers when he saw his brother cradlin' Lottie, her face wearing a ghostly mask.

"Shit" Smoke cursed.

"We gotta move her, man," Stack rasped, his voice cracking around the edges. "Now!"

Charlotte's face had lost all its color, lips tinged blue like a winter sky. Her curls clung to her skin, drenched with sweat, and her chest was hitching — ragged, shallow breaths that barely stirred her ribcage.

A cold dread settled in Stack's gut.

"She need a doctor," Stack said, the words heavy with an anxiety he often hide behind his goofy jolly mask.

"Ain't no white hospital touchin' her," Smoke nodded, his gaze distant, already thinkin'.

"But Doc Harlan, he still out by that old chicken road, 'hind the church."

"We best go now." The urgency in Stack's voice left no room for argument.

The sun, a burning eye in the sky, shone bright as Annie finally arrived home, letting out a loud, shuddering sigh.

She felt a knot of anxious dread tightened in her stomach, a feeling she couldn't explain, couldn't shake.

She ran inside, flinging open the windows, letting the warm, thick air flow through the small house. She walked up to her shrine and whispered prayers, lighting three black candles and the sweet, cleansing sage incense.

Kneeling, her hands pressed together, she began to pray. Her thoughts wandered, but no matter how far they strayed, she couldn't chase away the odd, terrifying intuition she bore about Charlotte. It clung to her, stressing her with a cold embrace.

She bowed her head deeper, trying to hush her own fear, to quiet the frantic beat of her heart. But no words, no prayer, could silence the image flashing behind her eyelids: Charlotte, somewhere, her breath catching, blood on her hands.

Hours bled into one another, the light outside fading to a deep twilight, before Smoke finally arrived. He entered the wooden house without hesitation, the door sighing shut behind him.

Annie was still on her knees, head dropped on the table, lost to sleep.

Smoke reached out, caressing her arm, trying to softly wake her. But she didn't flinch a bone.

He looked around for a moment, the quiet reverence of the room unfamiliar, almost unsettling. He'd never held much credit to occultism, in gods, or whoever else was above. Even going to church felt like a bother to him.

He crushed his cigarette across the window frame, the small, angry sound loud in the stillness. Then, he went low, just at Annie's size, and gently scaled her up, right to the bed, laying her down with  tenderness.

Annie lay still, a sunny wind blowing through the window. As Smoke reached for a blanket, his eyes suddenly met a broken doll, tucked away to the left, beneath the bed.

He didn't need anyone to tell him who the strange thing belonged to. He knew it. He was the one who had crafted it for her, after all. Smoke grabbed the doll, a mournful smile etched on his face. Demons weren't truly outside; they lived within.

He couldn't even say her name, the one who returned to ashes before her tiny eyes could even glimpse the sunlight.

"Power," He sucked his teeth. "Damn power, little mama. If only Papa had it right before—"

Smoke dared not finish his monologue. He cut it short to fight the reckless tears that threatened to roll down.

He never cried.

Not years ago, when he saw Annie devastated, creeping on the floor, holding the cold, frigid body of their newborn.

Not when he witnessed her becoming hollow, conjuring curses he knew never existed.

Not when he abandoned her, let her mourn alone, cast away from everyone.

Not even when he got back from Chicago, imposing his new presence in her life.

So why in hell was this cheap-ass toy unraveling him now?

Again, this voice in his head whispered, caressing his hands, laughing.

Taken by slight spasms, Smoke bolted out of the shelter, taking his daughter's piece with him. The night had been long and torturous. And maybe, only this morning, he would allow himself to be weak.

Facing the stone grave, Smoke pulled down the doll, then shrieked. He was falling apart when and where nobody could see nor hear him.

"Ha—Huh," he blubbered, snot rolling down his nose like a child.

For once, he didn't want to be Smoke. He wanted to be Elijah.

What the fuck had Iraq taught him? Was being a dog for the Italian mob worthy?

"Elijah?"

A déjà vu.

Smoke sniffled, cleaning his face but not facing the woman who had been woken up.

Did he have the right to say it? After muting his pain, shutting hers down like their own blood didn't mean a thing? Did he have the right to need it? After believing for years that their daughter's death was her fault?

"Shit. I need my baby back Annie," he bawled.

Stack drove off to Doc Harlan. The ride was a blur of dust and shadows, the old Ford rattling and groaning like a dying man. Stack pushed it, the tires spitting gravel on the unpaved road, each bump a fresh jolt of agony for Lottie, whose head still lolled against his arm.

He could feel her getting colder, lighter, and a raw panic began to claw at his chest.

"Just wait a second Lottie — M'kay sunshine ?" He whimpered.

Finally, the dim, flickering light of Doc Harlan's small, ramshackle cabin appeared through the trees. It sat hunched, almost hidden, behind the skeletal remains of an old chicken coop, a whisper of smoke curling from its crooked chimney.

Stack slammed the car to a halt, the engine coughing protest, and without waiting for it to die, he flung open the door.

He stumbled out, Lottie still in his arms, and pounded on the cabin door. A long moment passed, stretched thin by his fear, before the door creaked open.

Doc Harlan, a wiry man with tired eyes and a face etched with the hard lines made by Cronus harsh tricks appeared. He took one look at Lottie, her face uncolored, still in Stack's arms, and his eyes widened.

"Lord have mercy," the old doctor breathed, stepping back to let them in. "Bring her on in, son. Quickly now."

Stack carried Lottie through the small, dimly lit room, the air thick with the smell of old medicine and rot. He laid her carefully on the narrow cot in the corner, her body seeming almost too fragile against the coarse blanket.

Doc Harlan was already moving, his hands surprisingly quick for an old man, pulling instruments from a worn leather bag.

"Hol' on uncle, wut is that ? You sure good huh ?" Stack stormed, a little bit too loud

Harlan, did not pay him much attention.

The silence in the cabin was broken only by the rustle of the doctor's movements and Lottie's faint, desperate gasps for air.

Stack stood over her, helpless, his hands still sticky with her blood, watching, waiting, praying for a miracle he wasn't sure would come.

" Lottie-ass shit." He breathed affectionately "ain't you gotta have to beat the fuck outta me ?"  Stack continued, shuddering, his hands trembling.

He closed his eyes, memories flashing by. Yesterday was such a nightmare and Stack hated it. What he despised the most were unexpected events.

He should have convince her to get back home with Annie

"Shitty ass gri-gri" he pestered, imitating his old aunt accent while touching the mojo  bag around his neck "can't save yo own creator huh ?"

"Damn. That boy, can't just hush for once huh" Doc Harlan grated out. "Pull out this basin fa me" the old man pointed "gonna bawl later, son"

In other circumstances, that old man would have been dead, bullet in the head. But this time, Stack understood he needed to get low.

He raced to the cabin corner, yanked the basin out of it place.

"Tch." He said giving the water filling recipient to the doctor.

"Elias" the old man started, seriously " boy, ain't no time for no cussin' and carryin' on. Just stand back and let me see 'bout this."

Stack recoiled a bit, leaving space so the traditional life savior can slash open the woman flesh.

"Aight. Hm. Hm." The gray-haired man started, quieter now. "Ain't lookin' good, pretty boy. Your lady prolly' ain't gonna make it."

The twin heart skipped a strong beat, pounding hard and faster in his cage. Not only because he call his childhood friend, his lady but mostly because Stack couldn't tell if the doc spoke truth or woe.

Dejected, he approached the motionless, gory body of Charlotte, anger and torment tearing his gut out...

"AH. That's wut I'd say if I wasn't the best doc 'round here" Harlan laughed frantically, showing off the bullet he stirred out from Lottie's abdomen.

Stack sank down hard onto the wooden creaking floor, the weight of it like a release—everything crashing down all at once. He clutched his hand—full of Lottie's blood— deep in his pocket. Pulling out a cigarette, he brought it to his lips, fingers trembling, ready to light it.

Before he could strike the match, the doc's voice cut through.

"Hell nah, Son ! Betta not doin' that here. Ain't yo mama teach you respect ?"

Stack shot him a hard glare, then cracked a smirk, eyes glinting with something mysterious.

"You sure an odd one. Would've killed yo' ass on spot if I wasn't too damn jolly right now. Don't joke 'round like that again, tho. We never know what can happen."

"A child ? You want a child, Elijah...?"

Annie reacted to Smoke pleading lament.

" Ain't want no fucking child. I want—" he mumbled.

She flew over, catching him in her large embrace.

Smoke didn't resist. He collapsed into her like a man drowning into shore. His face buried in the crook of her neck, tears soaking into the old cotton of her yesterday's blue dress. He held onto her waist like a lifeline.

They stayed there, tangled in sorrow, in memory, in everything they never said — never dared to — As if the hellish descends they experienced that night, gave them courage to talk of the unspoken.

The wind picked up behind them, rustling the dry grass by the stone, shaking the sycamore tree that cast shadows over their daughter's grave.

"I know," Annie whispered, fingers moving through the thick coils at the back of his head. "I know what it cost you to come back."

"I didn't mean to leave," he rasped, voice barely there. "I just couldn't see you like that. I couldn't accept  her fate. I still can't  even say her name, Annie."

His eyes were red now, nose running, lips trembling like a boy abandoned in a park late night.

"Don't know how to carry her without hurtin'," he admitted. "Don't know how to love you without failin'." The man shattered before clutching his teeths

"Fuckin dollars — power, I fucking wanted all of them. Now I have nothing left— we have nothing left"

Smoke stared at his woman for a while, scanning her from head to toes. Then, out of blue he said — as if he wanted to shift the mood.

"Follow me"

Smoke took her hand gentle-like, fingers rough , and led her to the back door of her Cabin, where the cool morning air wrapped

Around 'em like a soft, worn quilt. The sun was  beating hot across the Mississippi Delta sky, soft gold spilling through the leaves and catching on Annie's curves.

He stopped by the old outdoor shower, a weathered wooden frame with rusted pipe, water dripping slow onto the cracked concrete slab.

"Oh. So Peeping Tom wanna redo the experience huh" she said jokingly

"Shut it, woman" Smoke replied, grinning

Their tormented emotions had successfully been shifted.

Smoke turned the valve, and a trickle of cool water splashed down.

"Come on, Annie," he said "Let me wash all that night offa you."

She didn't argue, the man wanted to move out from their heavy conversation and stopping him was not in Annie's mind.

She rolled her eyes joyfully, then started undressing. The blue dress cloth stinking on her skin, was unbearable enough for her to take a full shower.

The man did not take his eyes off her, admiring her curves, hypnotized like the first time he laid eyes on her.

Annie faced him, seconds before stepping totally under the water's pressure.

Her swollen nipples hardened to Smoke's eyes goggling her whole. The Cajun woman wanted to remain still eternally.

He already saw the ugly scars on her back, however she refused owe him explanation about these. It was painful enough.

The last tray of dress fabric landed with a soft thud on the wet ground.

Smoke grabbed her by the shoulder gently, pulling her fully under the cool, rushing water. Annie gasped, the sudden shock making her shiver, but she didn't flipped back.

He reached for a bar of homemade, earthy-scented soap, working it into a rich lather between his large, capable palms before drenching the sponge.

He began to wash her, starting with her world weightlifting shoulders, working down her beautiful fluffy arms. His touch was desirably hesitant, as if he feared his touch might shatter her further.

Smoke's strokes drifted around her rounded chest, the rough strings of the sponge tracing circles around her brown nipples before his hands glided leisurely between them.

He brushed the strings against her smooth skin, racing down her belly which he cradled with exquisite care. Annie shivered, a flush of heat rising to her head.

Smoke gradually neared her pussy, and then, with a soft splash, the string-made sponge was abandoned on the ground.

"I can—I can wash here myself. It must—"

The twin shut down her complain, his moisturized fingers stroking between her fuller outer lips, then tracing the smaller, inner ones with heat. He touched, intertwined them, sensing the subtle flow of her own juices—the taste he always yearned for.

Guiding himself, he slid smoothly, for she was already wet. Smoke penetrated two fingers in her vagina,stroking slowly, up and down, then with increasing urgency.

Suddenly, he stopped, causing Annie to turn, her breath catching.

"You—" she started, but the words died in her throat as he provocatively and slickly licked his fingers, swallowing, and coating them with his own saliva.

"I butchered Dem all Bastards, Mama." Smoke groaned, slowly releasing out his wet fingers from his mouth. He arched a brown suggestively and begged "Did Eli earned a reward ?"

She immediately understood whom he was referring to. The KKK members.

Damn shit. He didn't need to say it with this tone though...

His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, met hers. He didn't move, just held her gaze, the water rushing around them, the air thick with sweat, desire, a divine sexual urge and the raw aftermath of his deeds.

Annie's heart pounded strong against her ribs. The sudden shift in his demeanor, from a tender lover to demanding brat, was disorienting, yet it stirred something deep within her. It was always the other way around with Smoke. Annie always been the submissive one. But, right now, uncontrollably she wanted to take the lead, teasing him, blasting the fire he lit.

He waited, unmoving, for her answer. She knew what he wanted, what he was asking for. He begged for her, he was starved of the pleasure her body only can offer him.

Annie felt a primitive urge take over. Why the wait ? Smoke was already tense, his cock threatening to aggressively blow up his pant.

Her body moved on its own. She bent at the waist, her head dipping, her spine arching, offering him the paradise's sight he craved for.

Smoke was aching and seeing the picture in front of him didn't help his case.

Annie was bent over, her hands steadying against the wooden tiles, eyes adorably hazy yet her lips stretched in a succubus' grin.

"Don't you dare look at it." She purred, her pulling one hand at her right ass cheek, spreading it wide before releasing it in a clap sound "Huh-huh, ain't your birthday yet Eli. Why yo wanna taste it ?" She repeated the same movement "Mama ain't like it boy..."

"Shit ain't funny Annie—" Smoke dangerously said, his swollen dick clamping under.

"But — you say, you wanted a gift ?" She continued, looking at him straight while pulling her two fingers inside her cunt.

Moaning obscenely, her face turned into a mask he never imagined her wearing, Annie couldn't help but play with herself, again and again.

Smoke was fighting the urge to let his eyes wander close to her dripping pussy, crafted like a peony. He started to stroke himself through his wet trousers, a slow, deliberate movement that mirrored her teasing. The air grew thick with their silent negotiation, the scent of sex and damp wood filling the space.

"You— can't look..."She paused, her fingers still dancing within her.

"Until you beg for it, like a good boy" a wicked gleam entered her eyes, daring him, pushing him to the edge.

He watched her, his own strokes becoming more frantic, the sound of his skin against the wet fabric, a rhythmic counterpoint to her moans. His jaw clenched, every muscle in his body taut with restraint.

He wanted to reach for her, to pull her back against him and claim what she was so brazenly offering, but her game held him captive.

Then, with a sudden, fluid movement, Annie arched her back deeper, her hips rising.

"Come show mama how much you want her cookie" she whispered authoritatively

She never had to command twice, in a flashlight, Smoke ended up on his knees, dropping his warm tongue on her wet clitoris. He drowned his mouthful tentacle into her, twitching every inch of skin, corner, suckin the tip of her button.

"HA—-Yes fuck, papa— yes Hmm"

Overwhelmed with pleasure, Annie unconsciously wiggled her fat ass cheeks on his face, pulling his head closer to her pussy, Smoke nose smelling her feminine scent

"Kinda hate bein' hit Annie. But with those ? Choke the hella o'me"  he groaned his mouth already watering for more of  her.

In a swift, skillful motion, he freed his throbbing, swollen cock from his wet pants, bringing it into the cool air, stroking it now in full view, close to her glistening pussy.

Without warning, Annie squatted down onto his face, making him gulp down all her juice. His breath hitched as her hot, slick pussy enveloped his nose and mouth, the sudden pressure almost suffocating, utterly overwhelming.

“You kinda good sugar ? It’s papa time now”

Annie gulped, he gaze lowering between Smoke’s thighs, gazing at his hard as stone tool.

The man stood behind her, a tight grip on her ass, then penetrated her profoundly. His dick stroked hard in his cunt for three and more pounds before he hit climax, filling her with his semen.

“Huh—huh” Annie breathed heavily, happily.

They let the waterfall drench their bodies now intertwined with each other.

Smoke was the one heading out, towel around his waist.

“Oh— Eli have you been a good boy now ?” The young twin appears moaning

Sigh. Stack.

The older just rolled his eyes and stepped inside the house.

Tag list : @bigjh ; @boonoonoonus ; @saralance03 ; @stormynovashambler ; @lsc72 ; @prettyisasprettydoes1306 ; @unholyxthoughts ; @lizbehave ; @tadjoa @queenofklonnie22 @katezy2x @m0netm0netxo12 @prettygirl2800 ; @thefutureemmywinner ; @atomicearthquakemusic7 ; @thelifeoflagab @irefusetobeacasualty @anafricandaydreamer, @thevelvetwhispers, @marley-444

POV : Annie when smoke said “it’s papa time now”

[psychesalcove]

ANDROMEDA ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚ a star constellation representing the princess andromeda from greek mythology, who is the daughter of cepheus and cassiopeia, and who is the wife of perseus

or, jasper hale x fem. (witch) reader series navigation

✴︎ ACT I — full moon

forks, a quiet town tucked up in the corner of the olympic state. moving to a new town–forks, nonetheless–is never easy. while walking in the woods, trying to get away from the need to unpack and the dread around starting school, you meet a certain cullen, who seems to be getting away from something; just as you are.

✴︎ ACT II — season of the witch

the first day of high school as a new student, especially in a small town, is always interesting. you’re the talk of the school, and all you’re trying to do is make it through biology with it making sense.

✴︎ ACT III — oblivion

you're walking downtown at night; never a great idea, especially if you're a woman. you try to drown out the feeling of being followed, but when a person rapidly approaches, you figure that your feelings of being followed weren't just you being paranoid.

✴︎ ACT IIII — velvet ring

a small moment between you and jasper is making your mind swirl with questions. what is he, what is he to you, and, most importantly, what are you to him?

✴︎ ACT V — ribs

you’re growing closer with the cullen siblings by the minute, even with their reputation for never talking to anyone outside their family. alice asks you if you want to join them for a sleepover night at their house, and who are you to deny your friends request?

✴︎ ACT VI — little dark age

seeing a blood sucking creature do what they were meant to do—suck the life out of someone—is frightening even to the bravest of hearts. when said creature is your friend, it makes the situation even more difficult to process.

✴︎ ACT VII — not a lot, just forever

so, vampires. they’re real. very, very much real. that’s a thought your mind has to come to terms with. jasper, on the other hand, has to come to terms with you possibly being his blood singer, and future mate.

✴︎ ACT VIII — anthems for a 17 year old girl

being a teenage girl is difficult. being a teenage girl with a mom pressuring you into joining her witch coven? even more stressful.

✴︎ ACT IX — daughter of a cop

bella swan, a human. not a vampire (yet), werewolf, witch, or other mythical creature. maybe she can help with the thoughts that always seemed to be present in your mind regarding jasper and well, everything—especially since her supposed ‘mate’ is a vampire.

✴︎ ACT X — sandy

even though your still processing things, you want to be by jasper. he doesn’t know yet that you know you’re his blood singer (and very much so his mate), but you’re determined to make things as normal as you can with him; for now at least.

✴︎ ACT XI — loving machine

with midterms coming up, your stress is on another level. good thing jasper is good at calming people down—and—helping people study american history.

✴︎ ACT XII — girls just wanna have fun

prom season is full swing in forks. teenage girls are out downtown an hour after school ends, going to every store that could potentially hold their dream dress. when the day finally comes, your surprised to be met with a very, very anxious looking jasper.

✴︎ ACT XIII — kyoto

even with prom seemingly bringing both you and jasper closer, he disappears. without a word. well no; he gave you a couple words. words that included, goodbye, sorry, and something you couldn’t pick up. great.

✴︎ ACT XIV — lonely girls

with jasper and the rest of the cullen’s gone from forks, you start putting more time into high school and witch craft. your mom takes notice, and decides that you’re at the point where officially becoming part of the coven is drawing near.

✴︎ ACT XV — cologne

after months—just when you thought you might finally be moving on from whatever jasper was to you—the cullen’s returned to forks. it’s hard for you to admit that you’re still drawn to him, even with your heart placed in both your friends, and your new coven.

✴︎ ACT XVI — sarah

jasper knew that if he wanted anything to continue with you, he would have to be honest about everything: his past, his turning, newborn armies—everything. everything minus you being his blood singer and mate; not knowing that you already held that information.

✴︎ ACT XVII — steeeam

you want to hear from him himself that you’re his blood singer and mate; so that simply means getting closer to him. and, what better way to get closer to the man you’ve been harboring a crush on for a while, than asking him out on a date?

✴︎ ACT XVIII — your best american girl

accidents happen right? example one: you figuring out the cullen’s were vampires. example two: the cullen’s figuring out you’re a witch. you were going to—eventually—share that with them, but this is definitely not what you wanted happening.

[liketwoswansinbalance]

What would Rhian do if Rafal started having a panic attack and just could not calm down?

The scenario seems unlikely, given Rafal's relatively unflappable, impassive temperament and how he doesn't seem to exhibit PTSD symptoms, but this scenario is also very interesting, and I would really like to know what could possibly trigger a panic attack of that intensity in him. It'd probably have to be something unimaginably horrible? (Literally, I don't have a good answer at the moment for possible hair-raising stimuli to him, as much as we joke about Rafal vs. pirates.)

If he did have a panic attack, I feel like it would be most in character of him to dissociate/undergo depersonalization and feel like a third party observer to his life or a singular event, whether it's unfolding or oncoming. And he would only stand still with bated breath in abject dread at some kind of figurative tidal wave he's about to be bombarded with.

It would probably be a silent panic attack, not an outburst or a weepy/breathy one—and he might have the blue-screen-of-death type of feeling/expression, during which nothing new on the outside is being registered and processed because he's gone numb and detached. Like, his eyes would be open, and he'd look, but he wouldn't see or comprehend. He may as well have been gazing at the backs of his lids, or at a blur, or feel dark/reddish pulsing.

Ok, brace yourselves—

This is the worst-case scenario in relation to this fascinating ask:

Rafal falls into a fugue state and wanders away from home (and Rhian doesn't stop him or think to stop him because Rafal's left without any prior notice before. He has a history of it. And, he literally just disappears and reappears at will, seemingly well mentally, like it's a magic trick. So, whatever Rafal does, wherever he goes, if action is needed at all, it must be some practice of self-regulation, given his unwillingness to rely on anyone else. And most unsettling of all: again, no one would be able to distinguish the panic attack from every other time Rafal's casually left.)

And while I'm sure this isn't canon, we could make the leap that he could have been hurt enough by Rhian's jab at his pride at the start of Rise that there is, I suppose, a non-zero chance of this having happened when he first struck out on his own (during the time gap, pre-meeting Hook).

Actually, a lot of Rafal's behaviors align with schizoid personality disorder, antisocial personality disorder, autism, paranoid personality disorder, anhedonia, and obsessive compulsive personality disorder—I don't necessarily think he's affected by any one of these conditions alone. Any kind of comorbidity is possible. And yet, oddly enough, I can't see PTSD as likely because: either his trauma is invisible or he's more likely to be the one inflicting trauma on others than ever experiencing it or irrational fears himself.

Anyway, as for my answer—first, Rhian would probably try to ground Rafal in the world and keep Rafal responsive.

In the case of Rhian not knowing how to deal with panic attacks, perhaps, he could try to shake/slap some sense into Rafal.

If both of these tactics were to fail, the "kindest" solution would probably be to sedate or safely render Rafal unconscious with magic before his feelings escalated any further or he lost consciousness due to hyperventilation. So, if Rhian could keep a clear head while all this were going on, I suspect that's what he would do.

And let's face it: This is entirely conditional—it would only be so if Rhian were even there, as, the possibility of Rafal just up and leaving, (and not accepting any help, if anyone even notices anything off about him) is still firmly on the table.

However, Rhian's anxious tendencies could interfere with taking an appropriate or any course of action for that matter. He could freeze up at the sight of Rafal in this state as it could very well be a novel occurrence. And, if he didn't know what to do, his mind could go blank out of stress, fear, and/or shock. At best though, he could get Rafal medical assistance/psychological attention, whichever services exist in the Woods.

In fact, I think Rhian would try to "fix" the feeling/reaction itself, only what's being presented to him, that's observable, not the situation or root cause of Rafal's panic attack. And, ordinary words/gestures of reassurance would not be enough, if he can't be calmed.

There's even a chance Rhian could be afraid of touching or attempting to hug Rafal in a state like that, due to a fear of disturbing Rafal(?), even if he could hold the instinct to do so.

I'm not sure it would ever cross Rhian's mind to deal with Rafal's panic from the outside, as in, directly removing the distressing stimuli or dealing head-on with some source of trauma or approximation of trauma, if the stimulus is adjacent to but not the exact thing which would set off Rafal's response, or "under-response," knowing him.

There's also an off-chance that certain behaviors of Rhian's are triggers to Rafal, but that neither of them know it. The opposite is also probably true, considering Rhian was set off, in a way, at the end of Fall by the weighty/selfish but relatively innocuous offer Rafal extended to him.

Thus, I think there's a definite, non-zero chance they've each traumatized the other and cannot recognize it because they're so entrenched in their relationship and cannot view it objectively.

Lastly, keep in mind that I am not an expert or an actual psychologist. I have only tried to not misinform. I invite you to correct me if anything is wrong.

Thoughts or reactions, anyone?! I'm not sure whether my answer is predictable or provocative.

[lovelytsunoda]

don't go breaking my heart // lance stroll

soft moments stolen between wedding and reception

weddings are joyous and festive, but can be stressful for introverts like lance and his wife. so when they were able to steal some moments with each other in the peace of his aston martin between the ceremony and the venue, they know these are the moments they will treasure the most from that day.

pairing: lance stroll x newlywed reader

warnings: just fluff, a minor minor allusion to sex.

author's note: i have no idea why i have written so many wedding things for this man, but i think it's because he is the raw definition of husband material. thank you and good night lmao.

“don’t go breaking my heart…I couldn’t if I tried”

elton john and kiki dee crooned over the speakers as lances aston martin drove through the quebec countryside. it was a quiet night, stars high in the sky as he ran his thumb over his wife’s thigh.

“I love you.” he hummed, daring to look over at the love of his life as he took a corner too fast. “my darling darling wife.”

she smiled, meeting his gaze. “eyes on the road, handsome. you’ve got the rest of your life to stare at me. I love you too.”

the wedding had felt like a blur, maybe because of how wired they both felt. it should have been a smaller ceremony, in all hindsight considered.

it was an odd thing: you want to celebrate your love around all these people, but then the day arrives and suddenly you feel anxious at letting them see you pledge your heart to another.

lance and y/n had always been the quiet, soft couple. the one evoking ‘awe’s and heart eyes from the groups around them. they knew each other like the backs of their hands, better than any track map or textbook.

“enjoy the quiet while it lasts.” she hummed, nimble fingers gently easing the pins for her white lace veil out of her hair. “is it bad that I’m dreading my own reception?”

lance laughed. "nope. because i am, too. i know it's all about us and all that, but i hate being the center of attention. i would have rather had a dinner party."

she snorted. "technically this is really just a rather large dinner party."

"i mean, there's food and wine, you picked a damn good throwback playlist. dinner party." lance shrugged, taking his foot off the gas, headlights illuminating the empty road ahead.

lance had decided to take the scenic route, savoring this moment alone, this little bit of calm before the storm. before the party, the noise, the people.

just him and his wife, falling a little bit more in love with each other every day.

"if scotty throws his back out dancing to 'suicide blonde', i'm not fucking helping." y/n laughed, reaching for the stereo to flip to the offending inxs song. "i still cannot believe that this song was about kylie fucking minogue."

"there's a reason we invested in the mocktail bar."

"you know most of the guys have flasks hidden in their suit jackets, right?"

she would have preferred something low key, but her family had wanted the big party. it wasn't all bad. she got to pick the food (pasta bar, anybody?), the drinks, the decorations, the music. she'd made a throwback playlist of all her favorite happy songs, all the ones that made her feel alive, giddy and in love, ranging from inxs to def leppard to kesha.

she'd waited twenty-five years for this moment, so why was she suddenly getting this bad feeling about going to the party that followed?

the event venue slowly came into view over the distance, the white brick building with it's pillars and vintage charm, the walkway to the door lit up with fairy lights. the small parking lot was already almost full, the rest of the guests waiting inside for the happy couple. lance parked his car furthest from the door, but kept the engine running.

he took her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. "we can turn around and drive away." he was dead serious when he looked over at her. "i'm serious, we can run and go get burgers and milkshakes and see a movie and then go back to the hotel and not sleep a minute because we are too busy having the goofiest, most romantic sex of our lives. i just want you to be comfortable."

"i know. and that's why i love you so much, lance." she sighed, a smile blooming on her face. "but our friends are in there. our parents are in there. hell, your dad is probably trying to sell my dad on buying a time share villa in biarritz."

lance laughed, leaning over the center console to kiss her forehead. "whenever you want to leave, you just tell me. if you need a minute to yourself, just shoot me a text message and i'll come and find you. or don't, if you just want a walk in total solitude. i'll probably need one of those at some point, too."

"i knew there was a reason i married you." she joked, tilting her head up to press her lips to his. "i love you to the moon and back, lance."

"you wanna go inside?"

"we might as well."

lance took his seatbelt off, shutting off the car and sliding out of the driver's door. her dramatically slid across the hood, earning a laugh from his wife as he skipped towards her door, opening it for her before extending a hand for her to take.

"beautiful girl, love of my life, may i help you out of this shockingly low car?"

she laughed, slipping one of her hands into his warm one. "yes, my beautiful husband. yes, you may."

she stepped out of the car, the hem of her white silk dress dusting the gravel in the parking lot. a breeze ran through the area, making the hair on the backs of her arms stand up.

"love, you're shivering." lance said softly, slipping out of his suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she put her arms through the sleeves, wrapping her arms fully around her husband. "i love you."

"i love you, too." she took a minute to stand there, her nose in his dress shirt, breathing in his cologne. bath and body works, today. she liked that. something playful and romantic instead of the heavy, stinging designer scents he usually wore.

"we should go inside." he whispered, their bodies swaying together in the silence, her skin warm against his.

"or we could stay out here just a little longer."

and who was he to argue with that?

"you get five more minutes. i'm starting to get hungry and the pasta bar has my name written all over it."

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @cartierre @diorleclerc @httpiastri @silverstonesainz @lorarri @twinkodium

[delimeful]

let my mind reset (6)

warnings: angst, brainwashing, torture, psychological conditioning, references to injury/gore/death, harmful surgical implants, they are really going through it now, lmk if i missed any

-

Where the hours had passed slowly before, now they seemed to slip by all too fast. Every spare moment Roman had was spent in anxious anticipation of the next session and all that came with it.

He had never seen something like the haze used on a person before. Crav’n were invulnerable to it, and he’d only ever witnessed his aunt use it briefly on one of the local fauna once, a harmless and finicky tree-dwelling species about the size of his hand.

(Roman remembered the way Marta had compelled the little creature to pace back and forth, from place to place, wearing its will away until there wasn’t any hesitation between order and action. Then, she’d sent it walking into the nearby pond.

He remembered the way its survival instinct had set in late, the way it began to thrash, and still Marta didn’t call it back. He remembered feeling relieved when his mother stepped in and put a stop to the demonstration, scooping the poor beast from its fate with disapproval etched firmly in the set of her shoulders.

He didn’t remember if the creature had lived through the withdrawal, afterwards.)

Virgil was far from a simple animal, though, and despite Roman’s half-formed nightmares, he didn’t mindlessly succumb to the influence of the drug the first time it was forced on him, nor the second or the third.

In fact, every time the other Humans entered his cell with that unsettling green canister, he seemed just as panicked as Roman, if not more, putting up as much of a fight as he could with a battered body and a wrung out mind. No matter how they tutted or scolded, the other Humans still couldn’t get the mask on him until Roux had him forcibly subdued, which was a tiny victory in itself.

That didn’t stop the drug from taking its toll each and every time.

As horrible as it sounded, the worst part was that the effects weren't painful or malicious in nature. At least that would have been easier to fight against; a logical, instinctive response to being hurt.

No, it was far more insidious than that. The haze dulled pain. First, the physical: it eased away the stiffness of sore muscles and the burning of shocked nerves, leaving only a pleasant numbness behind. Then, the mental: it stalled the production of stressful chemical compounds, replacing them with whatever was needed to trick the victim’s mind into believing they were happy, relaxed, pliable.

Roman had never seen Virgil so unwound, so carefree, and he hated how unnatural the behavior seemed on the Human. It was a miserable experience, finally seeing him without the hunted slant to his posture, and feeling sickened by the sight.

What was worse was watching it wear off.

As though a switch had been thrown in reverse, Virgil would be plagued by a creeping, unrelenting sense of panic and dread, pacing around his cell frantically until a sudden hypersensitivity to touch left him crumpled in one spot, breathing harsh and pained.

Time after time, he was shown exactly how painful withdrawal from even a few doses was, until he was left bracing for it well before the next session had even begun.

“The last guys who had me would have killed for something like this,” Virgil said, nearly panting as he laid out on his back. He had his fingers pressed against his neck, feeling his pulse. His heart was racing so hard that Roman could see the veins pulsing eerily under the skin. A heavy spike of adrenaline, unprompted by anything tangible. “Bet she has at least a few people stashed away just to drain for easy cash.”

He spoke more, like this. Out of turn, about topics that were morbid and pessimistic, as though the thoughts were tumbling free of his mind without his permission. Roman never let his negative reactions to the more grim topics go beyond his ears flickering back; it wasn’t like he had the room or right to judge. They didn’t have very many reasons to be optimistic. Besides, he’d realized early on that the more worked up Roman got, the worse Virgil got in turn.

He still didn’t know the exact details of how Dren harvesting worked, and he was fairly sure he was better off for it. The very idea of setting an entire person aside for something like that was reprehensible, and therefore entirely possible for Marta.

“She said she… she gets rid of Humans that don’t break,” he replied after a moment, the words tumbling freely from him for once. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to turn a profit from it.”

He’d been trying to match the distant, dry tone Virgil had used, but he must have missed the mark, because the Human stiffened, and drew his hand back from Roman’s grasp to press it harshly against his eyes.

Belatedly, Roman realized what he’d just implied. Virgil was one of those Humans trying not to break, was at this very moment barely clinging to his composure, and he’d just been informed he was stuck between two horrific fates worse than death. “I didn’t mean—,”

“‘S alright,” Virgil interrupted, voice rough with exhaustion. “It’s not like I didn’t know. It makes me feel a little better, honestly.”

Roman stared at him, bewildered and still slightly aghast at his own stupidity, and Virgil shifted a few fingers to peer back with one eye.

“At least some Humans didn’t fall for it, y’know? At least some of them got out in their own way,” he continued, a thin thread of hopelessness tangled up in the words. “I was starting to wonder if the rest of space was right. If we were all just destined to be monsters with the right motivation.”

Roman should have been more alarmed at the implication that Virgil felt close to succumbing, that he was nearer than he’d ever wanted to be to a Human on the brink of falling under someone else’s blatantly malignant control, but all he could feel was a painful sympathy.

“You’re not a monster,” he said, and then, more firmly— “Humans aren’t monsters.”

Virgil’s eye widened slightly, gaze intent in a way that would have made Roman bristle in the past.

“They’re just people. They can do good or bad, just like anyone else. And sure, these guys are— they’re not doing good.” A pause, and Roman forced himself to meet Virgil’s stare. “But you have. You saved Patton, and you tried to save me, and you’re— you’re not a monster. You’re a good friend.”

Virgil buried his face back in his elbow and was quiet for a long moment.

“…You’re not so bad yourself.”

—

Roman hadn’t expected Marta to show up in person, not with how much she had delegated to her brainwashed underlings thus far, but arrive she did.

“Don’t fret, ghiva’al,” she crooned to him, passing by his cell with the lightest clink of her claws dragged against the bars. “I’m here to meet your little pet, not you.”

“Don’t—,” call me that, call him that, he wanted to snarl, but his throat closed up so sharply that it sounded a little like he’d choked.

Marta made her stilted croaking laugh, sparing him a glance that might have been pitying if it had bothered to reach her cold, empty eyes. “You always did struggle with words when emotional, didn’t you? Not nearly as well spoken as your mother. What a shame to see that hasn’t changed.”

There was a sharp clacking as an aggressive shudder ran through Roman’s scales, but he still couldn’t find his voice. Not even when Marta moved on to grip the bars of Virgil’s cell, her attention shifting to the Human where he stood warily in the center of the cage.

Roman had learned more than he’d ever thought he would about Human body language over the past few weeks. He knew from the slight sway to Virgil’s every shift that the Human was drained, likely barely keeping his feet.

Still, he was upright to face Marta, his height advantage allowing him to look down at her, and that was better than being crumpled on the ground at her feet. Little victories were all they had now, and they clung to each and every one.

Roux wasn’t there, Roman realized with a jolt, and the knowledge was enough to drag his mind into overdrive, a sudden double-edged hope springing to life in his chest.

Virgil must have already realized, because the way he held himself shifted into something taut and coiled, like he was preparing to lunge forward at the first opportunity, weak or not.

“Back of the cell,” Marta commanded, voice turned brisk and blunt in a way it hadn’t been with Roman. Like she was speaking to a beast instead of a person.

Virgil didn’t move, barely deigned to acknowledge the words beyond a brief flicker of his pupils upwards.

Marta waited, letting the silence stretch for a brief moment, and then clicked her teeth together in a mild reprimand. “The hard way, then.”

Despite her apparent annoyance, the words held a sort of anticipatory delight, and Roman felt the thick tar of dread slide under his scales as he watched her slide a small, triangular remote from a pouch at her side.

When she pressed the button in the center of it, she was looking at Roman.

It was Virgil who went rigid and fell.

Despite knowing it would undercut every lie he’d tried to sell about how little he cared, despite the fact that he was playing right into her claws, Roman couldn’t help but rush to the bars separating them, a shout of horror catching in his chest.

The Human hit the ground hard but stayed chillingly frozen, with every muscle locked into hard lines. He didn’t make a sound until Marta shifted her thumb away from the button, the motion somehow allowing him to finally go limp like a puppet with strings cut.

“Virgil!” Roman managed, though the sound of it was nearly lost in the sudden loudness of the Human’s gasping breaths. He hadn’t been breathing before, Roman realized with a terrified shock.

Whatever Marta was doing, it hadn’t countered Virgil’s natural stubbornness, and he climbed back to his feet with less staggering than Roman would have expected.

His gaze caught on the tremor to Virgil’s hands, the shuddering of his pulse, and he understood. Adrenaline.

The fight or flight instinct, Virgil had called it while talking with Patton. Roman had seen him choose to fight once, at their very first meeting, but even that couldn’t compare to the speed and ferocity of the way the Human lunged now.

Marta didn’t flinch back when he made loud, skull-rattling contact with the bars, but she didn’t blink, either, keeping her eyes firmly locked on Virgil as she pressed the button once more.

Instead of letting him drop, however, she reached out and seized him by the face, claws digging in on either cheek and holding tightly.

Virgil couldn’t so much as flinch away from the pain, and Roman slammed his arm against the door of his own cell with force, furious at his own helplessness.

Marta released the trigger again, and this time, every gasping inhale Virgil took was dosed with her haze. He tried to jerk back, but it was far faster acting straight from the source, and he had barely a moment before his expression dropped to something hollow and smooth, his desperate strength wavering and then extinguishing like a flame with nothing left to burn.

“Down,” Marta commanded, releasing her grip, and Virgil stood in place for a few long heartbeats before his legs collapsed underneath him.

She waved a hand absently down at him, still scattering her haze thick in the air. “There you go. It feels so much better when you listen, doesn’t it?”

Virgil twitched, a ripple of discontent crossing his face, but didn’t respond. He was shaking relentlessly now, his entire body trembling in a way that had Roman deeply concerned.

“You’re safe with me,” Marta lied, reaching down to glide the palm of her hand over the side of Virgil’s face. “You’re only safe with me. Everyone else wants to hurt you, but I’ll make the pain go away. Always do as I say, okay?”

Virgil didn’t move away, even as her rough skin caught on the wounds her claws had left only moments ago. His breathing grew wispier, slower, until he appeared almost calm, his eyes dazed and distant.

“Let’s try this again,” Marta straightened, and when her hand left Virgil’s cheek, he strained after it for a handful of seconds. “Back of the cell.”

Virgil climbed back to his feet, and Roman closed his eyes as the Human quietly began shuffling across his stretch of cell. He felt all of six winters old again, watching his aunt lead something fuzzy and helpless back and forth, closer and closer to the water’s edge.

“Good. Now, heel.” More shuffling, wordless as a corpse.

How long did he have before Virgil took his own plunge?

—

It took longer than before for Virgil to regain coherence, afterwards.

Roman knew the moment he’d come back to himself, because the soft grip around his hand had instantly vanished, yanked away so sharply that he’d barely registered the movement before Virgil was up on his feet and backing away.

“Virgil,” he tried, and the Human shook his head, the motion harsh, his hands lifting up to grip roughly at his hair in a distressed motion Roman had only ever caught glimpses of back on the ship.

He’d continued to retreat until he hit the furthest corner of the cell, where he slid down and curled in on himself, utterly unreceptive to any of Roman’s stilted calls. Roman caught his expression crumpling into a miserable grimace before he buried his face in his knees and hid that away too.

The silence stretched.

If there were some right words to say here, Roman couldn’t find them. Even if he did, he undoubtedly wouldn’t be able to say them. The helplessness sheared against his scales like rough sand, but how could he allow himself to wallow in it when he at least still had his mind, his existence still unarguably his own?

Freshly taunted by the knowledge that he didn’t have even that much, Virgil remained still and taut and quiet in the furthest reaches of his cell for what felt like a very long time.

When he did finally stir, Roman was appalled to see the faint streaks on his face where his tears had washed away the sweat and grime.

Patton had described Human weeping as arrhythmic vocalizations, much like Ampens, but with a physical manifestation as well. Roman hadn’t known that Humans could cry silently, like a pup gone still and quiet in the face of danger, with only the barest hitching of breath to indicate distress.

The expression on Virgil now was creased into firm lines, but it didn’t seem agonized or crumbling at the edges. Rather, as he climbed to his face, he seemed to hold the same bitter resolution Roman had seen in him a few times before: during the tail end of their first meeting, and after the fight with the raiders, both times when he’d thought he was about to be left alone again.

“Roman,” he started, and then worked his jaw tersely, once, twice. Rather than continue, he held out a hand, palm-up in silent offering.

Things had changed a lot over the course of their captivity, Roman reflected as he reached out and set his own hand in the Human’s grasp with barely a shred of hesitation. It felt like second nature by now, to reach out and cling on whenever his stomach was roiling with stress.

Virgil watched him for a moment longer, and then wrapped his fingers around Roman’s hand and drew closer, slowly pulling his arm up until he had positioned Roman’s claws just above the skin of his neck.

“This,” Virgil said, each word resolute, “is the best place to sever if you want to kill a Human quickly.”

The words took a dull, ringing moment to sink in, but once they did, Roman jerked back sharply. “Virgil, what—?”

For the first time, Virgil held on, keeping his hand pinned in place with ease even as he had to grip the bars with his other hand to remain upright. Roman could see the way the Human’s pulse fluttered under the skin, a heartbeat racing visibly exactly where Virgil had indicated.

“It’s important. You need to know,” Virgil insisted, and lifted their joined hands higher, to his temple. “Head wounds bleed a lot. Gashes up here are valuable because the blood runs down and drips into their eyes, which will work pretty well as a distraction—,”

“Stop it!” Roman demanded, yanking harder as his panic increased. “I’m not going to— stop talking like that! I don’t need to know how to hurt you!”

At the start of their voyage, Roman would have done just about anything for information like this, anything to feel safe on his own ship again. So why was he learning it only now, when each word and accompanying gesture made him feel ill and rotted down to the tip of his tail?

“It’s not— Roman, it’s not about me,” Virgil said, frustration seeping into his voice. He let Roman drag his hand away from his face, but still didn’t let go. “It’s about them.”

Roman wasn’t sure he believed that. “I don’t need to kill anyone. They’re brainwashed, this is Marta’s fault! I know the truth, now.”

Virgil shook his head, ghosted the fingers of his free hand over his implant scar with a distant, sickened expression. “It’s not that simple. I don’t want guilt to be the reason— Look. If it’s them or you, I want it to be you. I want you to make sure it’s you.”

And what if it's me or you? Roman thought, but the words lodged firmly in his chest until he could barely breathe around them.

“They all made their choice,” Virgil continued once it became clear that Roman wouldn’t respond. “They’ve kept making that choice, every time. You have to want to survive, too, okay?”

Mutely, Roman nodded, trying to ignore the creeping sense of horror. He pulled Virgil’s hand back towards himself, fumbled for speech for a long moment before finding the words and hoping they didn’t feel like a betrayal when spoken aloud.

“The underbelly,” he started, and Virgil’s expression— shut down. Every hint of body language went flat like stone, and just as unyielding.

“No.” The word was final, a sentence all its own, and Roman scowled mulishly.

“But—!”

“Roman.” Virgil lifted his other arm over so that he was clasping Roman’s hand between both of his own. “You’re the only one left, right? You told me that.”

The thought was still a wound-like pang in his chest, even after all this time. “Yes,” he admitted. “But, even still—,”

“No way. I don’t want to hear it, man. There’s nobody I would be willing to use it on, anyhow.” Virgil kept his gaze locked firmly on a point past Roman’s shoulder, but his shoulders were set, his voice steadfast.

There was no point arguing. Not now, when the both of them were one wrong move from collapse.

“Okay,” Roman finally said, and forced himself not to protest when Virgil reclaimed the position of lecturer. It was a struggle not to wince away with each gory anecdote, a full guide on the quickest ways to make the Human body stop functioning or even turn on itself.

“Gut wounds are slow to kill, but they can be painful enough to debilitate. There are vulnerable organs here, below the rib cage, and damage to them is difficult to treat without surgery if the wound is severe enough…”

Still, he held himself at attention, did his best to memorize every word.

If Virgil wouldn’t accept knowledge about Roman’s own vulnerabilities as a gift of equal exchange, Roman would simply have to treasure this information with the same dedication that he applied to the rest of their small crew.

After all, knowing all the individual weak points of a Human would make it that much easier for him to protect each and every single part of Virgil.

Virgil wasn’t going to die. Not here, and certainly not by Roman’s own claws. Not if Roman had anything to say about it.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Anger: Raphael’s Ending (Angst) (18+)

2007!Raphael x reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Leonardo's Ending

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A/N: Here it is! The one you all have been waiting for! The last chapter of the Anger series. Raphael’s Ending. Now, enjoy yourself as you fool around once more with Raphie boi��️

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Warnings: Angsty emotions, strong emotions, face sitting, oral - female receiving, every slight sub Raph and dom reader, turtley anatomy, unprotected sex.

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Reluctantly Raphael did like Leonardo had told him, and went to Donatello to get his arm checked. Turned out it was a good idea to get Donnie to look at it. The injury had been way worse than Raph had thought. To say that Donnie was freaking out was an understatement. He was screaming and yelling like Leo often did when he was mad, asking him how he could have been so careless. With Mikey watching quietly, listening intently to all of Donnie’s questions, waiting for Raph’s answers in anticipation. But as Donnie wrapped up Raph’s arm, he shot down every single one of the questions with a growl. It was none of their business what had happened, and he had no intention of telling them anything. Especially not new mother hen Donnie, who’s questions made Raph’s four toes curl in frustration. Except for his bad toe. Donnie had to wrap that one up too.

With his arm and toe bandaged, Raph didn’t do much the next few days. He ate and slept, restlessly waiting for the moment he knew who you chose; him or his oldest brother. In all honesty, the waiting made him anxious. He was jumpy at all sounds, turning to look at the entrance, hoping you were about to walk in. But every time it was either nothing but his own imagination, or just one of his brothers.

As the days went on, Raph only became more and more fearful. Sitting in his room late at night, his leg with his good foot restlessly bouncing up and down, staring into his wall, wondering what you were doing. What you were thinking. Maybe you were thinking about Leo. All this time, after that night, were you thinking of Leo? It was a dreaded thought that Raph found more and more often, causing him immense stress.

During the day, Raph would watch Leo out of the corner of his eye, unsure of how he could keep so calm, during these tense days of waiting. Did he not fear what the possible outcome would be? Or did he know something that Raph didn’t? Was he so calm because he had no reason to fear the outcome? That was the thought that kept Raph at the edge of his seat, fears and insecurities clouding his mind. Leo was so calm, because he knew you would choose him. That was at least the fear that was taking root in Raph’s thoughts.

At night, Raph stayed up late, laying in his bed and staring at the ceiling of his room. The slight pain in his arm when he laid the wrong way kept him up. The mere thought of you kept him up. The smell of you in his room kept him up, bringing back all the memories of you and him, tangled up in his bed sheets. The way you moaned into his ear, begging him to keep going, your arms grasping around him as he would continuously thrust into you, enjoying your warmth against him. Raph felt longing re-enter his heart, alongside the stinging pain of sadness.

What would Raph do if you decided to go back to his brother instead of him? What could he do? Would he have to go back to how he used to go about his feelings for you? Fueling with immense anger and hatred towards you and his brother’s relationship. Raphael hated the thought. For once he was tired of being angry. He just wanted you back in his arms,  and feel his world become peaceful once again. He wished to feel your lips once more, and hear your beautiful voice say his name, just like you had done all those times.

Raph cursed himself in his bed. Why did he never tell you? Why did he never tell you that he loved you? All those times he had you under him, he never took the time to tell you those words that filled his head. He loved you. Fuck, how he loved you. It was the reason he got himself into this mess and made a fool of himself in the first place. All because of his anger, impatience and his love for you. He had been so blinded by his own wants and needs, that he did not think of you nor your wishes. And now, after finally having gotten a taste of you, Raph would never be able to live a life, knowing you were as amazing as he had thought you would be, and not having you.

Raph rubbed his face, before turning onto his good side with his back towards the door. Did you know you had the power to drive him crazy? With the storm he was feeling inside, there was no way that you didn’t. He was sure that the lightning from his mental clouds could be heard all over New York City.

While laying there on his side, Raph heard the door to his bedroom creak open. He sighed in annoyance, knowing fully well it was Donatello who had comed in to check up on his arm.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Donnie?”, Raph growled in annoyance as he sat up so he could turn to look at the door. “My arm is okay! You don’t have to check on it every-”. Raph stopped mid sentence, once he realized it wasn’t Donnie that had walked into his room. Raph was shocked to see you close his door behind you, before turning your attention towards him.

Your eyes fell upon his arm, and concern flashed over your. “What happened to your arm?”

“Nothing”, Raph said, still not fully sure if you were actually in his room, or if his mind was playing tricks on him. Had he finally gone crazy? Had he lost his mind? Had all this waiting and longing for you finally turned his brain to mush?

You watched Raph for a moment, before finally moving to his bed, taking a seat next to him. This all felt strange. These kind of quiet moments between you and Raph had been a rarity for these past two years. Normally Raph could not even wait less than a minute, before he would jump at you. But now he was just sitting there, watching you with wide eyes, fearing that you would blow up in smoke and disappear. But the feeling of the mattress dipping as you sat down, and your scent in the air told him the truth. You were really there.

“How are you doing?”, you asked, with a small smile on your face that made Raph’s heart melt.

“Yes”, Raph said, a hesitant smile forming on his lips. “Especially now that you’re here”. His smile faltered for a moment, before he reached out with his good hand, and took yours. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). I should have told you he was home…”

“It’s okay”, you whispered, bringing your other hand up to sooth the back of Raph’s hand, your fingers slowly stroking and making shapes on his skin, sending shivers down his spine. “I forgive you, Raphael”. Raph stared at you in confusion, not sure if he could believe the words that had left your mouth. Yet, you still sat there and smiled at him, your fingers ever so slowly gliding across his skin. “Though I felt really hurt, I do think I understand why you did it”.

“Why?”, Raph asked.

“You feared that I would go back to him, didn’t you?” You turned his hand over, before continuing your shapes on his palm. “That I would leave you as soon as I heard he got home?” You took Raph’s silence as an answer. “I don’t blame you, Raph. I really don’t. And I’m sorry that I yelled at you”.

“I deserved to be yelled at”, Raph sighed, looking away from you. “I was an idiot, to both you and Leo. A jerk. I shouldn’t have done or said those things”.

You placed a hand on his cheek, turning his face to look at you, a warm genuine smile meeting him. “Like I already told you, I forgive you, Raph. And I know Leo well enough to know he’ll forgive you too”. Your thumb stroked his cheekbone. “It's all going to be okay”.

Raph leaned into your touch, savoring the feeling. “You’re amazing, (Y/N). I don’t deserve someone as good as you”.

“Then I guess it’s too bad I’ve decided to stay with you”, you smiled, your face getting closer and closer to his. Raph’s heart started rising once more, and he felt his palm getting sweaty. His eyes glued to your lips as they came closer. “What do you say, Raph? Will you have me?”

Raph did not answer you. Instead he crashed his lips to yours in a hungry kiss, just like he had done so many times before. Fuck he had missed this feeling so much. Your soft tasty lips, and the small sounds that came from them. There was no way you did not know how crazy you were driving him.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, as you hungrily kissed him back, moaning softly as your tongues started dancing together. You wasted no time taking your hoodie and top off with the help of Raph’s good hand, letting your nipples harden in the cold air of Raph’s room, before you just as eagerly started pulling your joggers down your hips, leaving you in a pair of red thongs. Raph could feel his head spin at the sight and the strong scent of your arousal.

A bit harshly, Raph pushed you onto your back before climbing on top of you, roughly grinding his hips against your dripping core, feeling the soaked fabric of your underwear against his pulsing cloaca. How good he was going to fuck you. After such a long time of waiting, he would have you screaming like never before, until the only thing you could remember was his name, and the feeling of his dick buried deep inside of you-.

“Ouch! Shit”, Raphael breathed, grabbing on to his still injured arm, pain painted across his face. He had accidentally put too much weight on his arm, now causing his arm to act up.

“It’s okay”, you said, leaning onto your arms, a mischievous smile on your face. “Maybe this time it’s my turn to be in control”.

“Maybe it is”, Raph said, a small smile making its way to his lips.

Raph followed your lead, and turned over to lay on his back. He watched as you climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. Raph’s good hand found its way to your hips, where he softly stroked your love handles with his thumb. Sure, he had had you on top of him before, but never like this. It had usually been with you lying almost limb against him as a moaning mess, your arms loosely hanging around his neck as he held you close, and arm around your back and one around your hip as he thrusted wildly into you. But this was different. You sat on top of him in full control, looking down at him, as he laid there, all to your mercy. It was a new but welcomed feeling, that Raph was surprised he hadn’t tried out with you before.

The smile on your face as you looked down at him sent his heart into flames. You slowly started rolling your hips against Raph, causing him to throw his head back with his eyes shut, a moan escaping his mouth. You bit your lip at the sound. You had never heard such a needy moan from the red clad turtle, feeling your panties getting even more soaked. But those sounds that were flowing from Raph’s lips, gave you an idea.

“Have you missed me?”, you asked, lifting yourself from Raph’s cloaca. This caused Raph’s eyes to snap open, staring to the point where your hips had been connected, burning need shining in his eyes.

“Yes, I’ve missed you!”, Raph moaned, lifting his hips to meet yours, only for you to move up even further, causing him to huff out in frustration.

“What if I asked you to show me, how much you have missed me?”, you asked innocently, letting a finger slowly slide over his cloaca, causing Raph to whimper slightly under you.

“I’ll do it!”, Raph breathed, his chest moving as he took heavy breaths. “How ever you want me to show you, I will!”

Raph watched in anticipation as you lifted yourself even further from him, before slowly working your thong off. He could feel his mouth watering as he felt yet another wave of your arousal against his nose. It didn’t take long before your red thong was laying somewhere on Raph’s floor, and you moved further up Raph’s torso. Once your core was hovering above his chest, Raph realized what you wanted him to do, and he smiled, grabbing your ass with his good hand, before scooting a little down the bed, so you had plenty of space for your legs above his shoulders. You could feel his breath against your thighs as you hovered over his face, your fingers gracing the top of his head.

“Are you going to eat me out good?”, you asked innocently, a mischievous smile plastered over your face.

“Yes”, Raph breathed out, trying to pull you down onto his face with one hand. “Please just let me do it, (Y/N)”.

Raph’s begging went straight to your core. With a delighted hum you lowered yourself onto his face, letting out a moan as his tongue started to move in circles around your clit.

“You’re doing so good, Raph”, you breathed, watching his face work under you, feeling his tongue flick against your clit. He hummed against your folds, the vibration causing you to moan out loud. You took Raph’s good hand and moved it from your ass to your breast, where he started to play with your nipple, as his tongue found your entrance. You started grinding against his face as his tongue thrusted into you, your moans and the wet sounds filling the room.

As Raph continued to work his magic tongue on you, you turned your upper body and reached out your arm so you could let your fingers reach his cloaca once more. You felt Raph jolt slightly under you, moaning against your core once more, as your fingers slowly found their way into his slit, teasing his opening.

You felt the familiar feeling build up in your stomach, letting you know that your peak was getting close. Raph’s tongue sped up, continuously moving in and out of you, as he slowly felt himself drop into your hand. Your legs shook around his head, letting Raph know that you were getting close. But before he could get you pushed over the edge, you moved from his wet face, moving back down his torso. Raph leaned onto his good arm, his face glistering with your wetness in the light, and watched you as you hovered over his arching dick, using your hand to line it up against your entrance, his pre-cum slowly being smeared over your opening.

“You’re fucking beautiful”, Raph mumbled, before laying back on his shell, so his hand could glide down your side. With a chuckle you leaned forward and captured Raph’s lips once more. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue. Raph moved his hand from your side to your head, deepening the kiss, just as you started to slide down on him. Raph broke from the kiss with a moan, looking down to where he ever so slowly disappeared into you. You whimpered slightly, bracing yourself with your hands on Raph’s plastron, before you continued further down his shaft, feeling him stretching you out. Raph cursed out loud several times, almost getting dizzy at feeling.

You continued down until you had taken him all the way, leaving both of you breathing heavily, taking in what the two of you had been missing for what felt like an eternity. Once you had adjusted to his size, you slowly started lifting yourself up his shaft, before lowering yourself once more. Raph once again threw his head back, moaning out in pleasure as you slowly increased the speed. You had never seen Raph like this before. Laying under you like a moaning and whimpering mess, mumbling incoherent things, that only served to make your heart pumping faster. This was something you could get used to.

You stopped for a moment so you could adjust the angle of your legs, causing Raph’s head to shut up, staring at you with pleading eyes.

“Please don’t stop, (Y/N)”, Raph begged, raising his hips under you eagerly.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the terrapin, pushing his hip down onto the mattress once more. “Don’t worry, Raphie, I won’t”.

Raph moaned out loud at the nickname, before you started moving on him again. His breathing became heavier as he felt his own peak inching closer, his hand feverishly grabbing onto your thigh. You felt your own high coming closer again, causing you to speed up your movements further, fighting through the mild burning in your leg muscles. Behind you, you could feel Raph’s legs move restlessly, and his hip frantically thrusting up against you, as his orgasm washed over him.

“Yes!”, he moaned out, his hips buckling up against you, his eyes closed shut, pleasure painted all over his face, as he started shutting white robes inside of you. “I fucking love you, (Y/N)!”

That was just what you needed before your own orgasm hit, causing you to fall against his plastron, moaning and panting as you pulsated around him, milking the rest of his orgasm out of him.

Raph wrapped his arm around you as the two of you layed there, getting back your breath. That was where you turned your head towards him and placed a tender kiss upon his lips, before giving him a smile that lightened up his world, along with the words he had always wanted to hear with your beautiful voice; “I love you too, Raphael”.

[st4rgzer]

heyy i love your fics, like actually you have talent but anyways i have a really specific request so... can you please write something really fluffy where y/n is scared of needles, like she litterally can faint. so she has to go to the doctor (like get vaccine or something) and shes so anxious and afraid and she asks matt (you choose if they are dating or just friends yet) to drive her there and he agrees. she is trying to keep her cool but when she sees the needle and realizing what is going to happed she gets really stressed and like start to panic and matt try and calm her down? can you do it please? also i ADORE youre song fics.

NEEDLES matt sturniolo

summary: Matt goes with you to your dreaded appointment

genre: fluff!

cw!: needles!!!!!

a/n: hi love ty sm for requesting, i’m sorry if it isn’t exactly what you asked for? but i hope you like it, i am also deadly afraid of needles so this was hard to get through😭 (and i really really appreciate you like my song fics<3)

“Matt can we please reschedule the appointment please” I begged, tugging on his arm as he took a can of soda out the fridge.

“I’m sorry, baby, but you already postponed like, 3 times, plus i’ll be right there with you, okay?” He said before opening the can and sipping, then placing it on the counter, diverting his attention to his distressed girlfriend

“everything is going to be fine, we’ll go shopping after, get some food, whatever you want” He cupped my face as he tried to convince me not to fret, reassuring me that, despite my persistent stubbornness and fear of needles, I would be completely fine. I somewhat believed his words, although I think that thats just the effect of Matt being Matt.

I sighed and dropped my head to the crook of his neck.

“I don’t know, I’m just nervous, I know it’s stupid” I mumbled, my muffled words being hard to understand.

“Hey, look at me” He gently held my chin up as a slight pout formed on my face, earning a small grin from him.

“I’m going to be there, it’s just a small moment, nothing more” His words repeated like a mantra in my brain “a small moment, nothing more” I hoped it was just that, an instance.

I never knew why I was cursed with the fear of needles, I just was, ever since I was a little kid, the mindset kind of just stayed with me throughout all my life.

That night I slept uneasy, In Matt’s arms, which helped my situation slightly.

……

I cursed under my breath as the moment came, sat in Matt’s car, googling all the posible breathing techniques, anything that could take my mind off it just a little.

My grip on Matt’s hand became more and more tensed as we got out of the car and approached the doctor, I felt my heartbeats in my throat, and Matt sensed the discomfort in my steps.

“hey, I promise it’s okay” He whispered in my ear, placing a petal kiss on the crown of my head. I took a deep breath, and nodded, before stepping into the dreadful room where I hadn’t been for a long time.

As I sat down on the chair, I felt the heat rise to my whole body, making my hands sweaty, despite it being the middle of winter.

The nurse was friendly enough, I think I would’ve thought she was nicer if she wasn’t going to be actively piercing my skin with a needle.

“okay sweetheart, it’ll just be a pinch” She smiled at me, giving me the kind of comfort you get when an elderly woman smiled at you on the street. That helped distract me for approximately 5 seconds, before returning to taking deep breaths.

“Look at me, don’t look at your arm” Matt cautioned me, fighting to meet my gaze as I looked concerned at the lovely nurse disinfecting the spot that would later be punctured. (dramatic asf)

I hesitantly looked at him, founding some sort of consolation within the familiar smile. I decided to start tracing every detail with my eyes, trying to let my mind wander somehow.

I was enjoying finding new spots and freckles, curves, specs in his eyes, new things to admire . As absurd as it sounds, it surprisingly distracted me enough. My breath hitched and I winced, but when the needle finally made contact with my skin, and came out, it wasn’t as bad as I anticipated.

“Well done my love” He congratulated me, rolling my eyes at the embarrassment of being celebrated like a little baby, and to be fair, I did act like that, but I was enjoying the treatment.

Before getting into the car, he kissed me, wrapping his arms around my waist, leaning against the hood of the car.

“Thank you for putting up with me being a scaredy cat” I mumbled, leaning my head against his chest.

“I’m happy to do so, and I’m keeping my promise on taking you out for lunch and shopping” He grinned at me as a smile started forming on my face, knowing there was no point on trying to convince him not to buy my all these fancy things, he’s too stubborn.

He opened the car door for me and put on my seatbelt, insisting that I don’t move my arm for 2-5 business days, even though the shot was on my non dominant hand. Who am I to decline this princess treatment?

taglist: @dwntwn-strnlo @iha8you @lovelysturniolo @gabbylovesreading @strnlsblog @strniolo @ssturniolo @sturniolol @stvrni0lo

[the-final-sif]

A thing a lot of people need to learn, is when you have a specific task or action that causes you an undue amount of anxiety and/or mental effort; take a moment and consider how often you interact with that thing in a positive light.

Like, phone calls and emails. Stop for a moment and ask yourself; when was the last time you just called a friend to talk? Not on discord, on your actual phone? Or just made a phone call for something that wasn't at least moderately stressful? If the only time you're making phone calls is doing something that requires a lot or mental effort or stress, of course your brain is going to associate phone calls with mental effort and stress! That's just your brain accurately understanding the situation.

Similarly, when was the last time you wrote an email to a friend in a semi-formal style? When was the last time you sent an email for something that wasn't stressful? When was the last time you wrote an email in a moderately professional fashion for something that wasn't either work or school? If you experience a lot of anxiety or high mental effort for emails, odds are the answer is it's been awhile. No wonder you hate writing emails, what reason have you given your brain to not hate it?

Obviously, every case is different, but if you find yourself constantly dreading or getting really anxious about tasks like phone calls or emails, or anything of the sort, try to give yourself some positive, easy experiences alongside the stressful ones.

For phone calls, call a friend! Talk for a couple of minutes about pets or a project and then be done with it! Make it fun and light!

For emails, swap emails with a few friends and try to keep up exchanging normal, semi-formal emails with them. It doesn't have to be super long or serious, just general little life updates will do. But try to keep the writing style to something near what you'd use in professional emails.

It won't magically fix everything, but I do think a lot of people seriously under estimate the amount of good that a bit of positive reinforcement can do for your brain. And underestimate how much more mentally taxing stuff gets when you only have negative associations for it. Your brain is trying very hard, but it is only meat soup, and it can only do so much with the ingredients it's given.

[or13m]

A Reprieve, an Undertale story chapter 015

The comfort that had finally settled over the room was brief as the front door violently slammed open. It rattled the house like a thunderclap and sent a bolt of panic rushing through your chest.

“SANS! WE’VE GOT A BIG PROBLEM!”

Undyne’s voice tore through the house with her usual subtlety. The edgier skeletons–and you–calmed slightly at the familiar monster, but still kept tense. If she was here, then that had to mean that Alphys had news. As if to prove such a point, the fish monster stormed inside, her single eye blazing with determination. Alphys clung desperately to her back, white lab coat flapping behind her, glasses askew, and looking to all the world like a startled bird that had got caught up in a hurricane.

It would have been amusing if the situation wasn't so dire.

“what the hell–?!” Red snapped, irritation spiking.

Undyne ignored him entirely, rounding on Sans instead. “It’s Y/N!” she growled, fangs flashing in the lamplight.

The shift in atmosphere was immediate. The tension suddenly came back–sharper and heavier than before. Sans stiffened visibly, eyelights dimming and posture going rigid.

“what about them?” he mumbled, cautious. The forced calmness in his voice had grown dangerously-thin. He was already walking a tightrope, soul taut as a bowstring and ready to snap from the stress of keeping you safe.

Alphys scrambled down from her girlfriend’s back. She barely managed to keep herself upright as she adjusted her glasses with trembling hands. “W–We figured it out! We know exactly what’s damaging their soul!”

The silence that followed felt suffocating. Your heart was slamming against your ribs while dread pooled low in your gut. It may be the answer you were seeking, but you still weren’t ready to hear it with the way they were eyeing Sans like he was the culprit.

Ash’s arms tightened around you. The scent of soil and plants helped to ground you. On reflex, you grabbed his sleeve, breath hitching in anxious anticipation.

“It’s you, Sans,” the yellow lizard said, her voice small but firm. Her eyes held clear sorrow in their gaze as she watched her skeleton friend digest the news. Clearly, it was not a conclusion that she had wanted to come to, but it was necessary to voice it aloud.

The lead of the house stilled. His eyelights petered out, casting the sockets into black pits like his soul had stopped beating altogether. Not one bone so much as twitched as the heaviness of the moment weighed heavily down on him.

Ash’s growl was low, dangerous, and threaded with barely-controlled frustration. “what?” The uncharacteristic ferocity coming from the gardener barely registered in your mind as you, too, struggled to process the revelation.

Alphys flinched but pressed on bravely. “It–it’s your magic, Sans,” she admitted, twisting the hem of her lab coat with anxious claws. “When Y/N defended S/N, your magic reacted and formed a partial bond. But now, without completing that connection, your magic is trapped inside their soul. It’s ricocheting constantly, damaging them more every moment.”

Your chest squeezed painfully tight, nausea rising sharply. With trembling hands, you signed, “So…that’s why it’s getting worse?”

Alphys nodded, her expression softening with guilt. “Yes. Normally, soulmate magic flows freely, stabilizing both souls. But since your bond is incomplete, it has nowhere else to go. Y/N’s soul is absorbing constant blows.”

Sans didn’t speak. He stood frozen, shoulders tense and eyes hollowed. It was as if Alphys’s words had gutted him entirely.

Nox finally broke the unsettling atmosphere. His purple eyelights cut through the unease, and he took a meaningful step forward. “THEN HOW THE HELL DO WE FIX IT?”

Alphys hesitated, the intensity of their stares eating away at what little courage she had managed to scrounge up. “There…there are only two options.”

“SPIT IT OUT ALREADY!” Edge snarled from his position near the back of the couch where S/N sat. Impatience etched into the line of his jaw while his eyelights flicked down to his own soulmate–your sibling–as they clung desperately to your hand.

Alphys drew in a shaky breath, steeling herself. “Either complete the bond…or destroy it altogether.”

No one spoke, the unvoiced question lingering in the air:

What happens if you destroy a soulmate bond?

Alphys cringed, clearly distressed. She didn’t have to hear the words to know what they were all thinking. “Soulmate bonds are legendary, mysterious even to us monsters,” she launched into a brief scientific ramble–her way of coping with the situation. “We barely understand their true nature. Severing the connection wouldn’t erase that they’re soulmates, but it might permanently damage both their souls. Possibly beyond repair.”

Your pulsed hammered in your chest, blood roaring in your ears. That did not sound great. Hardly much of a solution…

Red’s voice was low and dark. His next words voiced your thoughts aloud. “so, you’re saying their only real choice is to risk something we barely understand or fully commit right now?” The crimson of his eyes sizzled with agitation at Alphys’s helpless nod.

“then we complete the bond,” Ash declared with zero hesitation, tone final. You could feel his grip tighten around you–protective and defiant–as if daring anyone to disagree.

“Wait!” the scientist protested, eyes wide and hands held up in the universal sign to stop. “Humans have never soulbonded fully with monsters before. We have no idea what the consequences might be!”

“THEY’RE ALREADY SUFFERING,” Nox snapped, patience frayed beyond repair. “WHAT THE HELL ELSE CAN WE DO?”

“We have to think carefully!” Al insisted, voice desperate. “If we rush this, we could cause even more damage!”

Throughout the rising chaos, Sans remained silent. He had withdrawn deep into his own thoughts, not a flicker of that familiar white appearing in his sockets. You glanced toward him, anxiety clawing at your insides. You were concerned for him, well-aware of how he always carried all the weight on his shoulders. He always took responsibility for everyone else, even at detriment to himself. Carefully, you signed his name, hands trembling. Despite the lack of eyelights, you hoped that he could still see you.

He didn’t move. Didn’t acknowledge your hesitant motions.

Your soul squeezed in your chest as if in response to whatever he was experiencing. Without thinking, your fingers rose to fidget with the edge of your eyepatch. The nervous habit barely registered before Ash gently caught your wrist to guide your hand back down. You shot him an apologetic glance, trying to breathe through the rising panic.

Heart racing, you tried again, expression pleading openly. “Sans, please–”

He flinched, shoulders trembling. In the next instant, blue magic crackled to life. The air shimmered with a flash of void for a brief moment, and then–

Sans was gone.

In the wake of his abrupt departure, silence fell once more–thicker and more suffocating than ever before.

[cjsoleil]

Straight From the Tortured Poets Department (Bang Chan x Reader)

Authors note: This is part two of a two part series, part one is right here. You don’t necessarily need to read the first one, but I recommend you do. Enjoy.

Time had gone by quicker than Chan and Y/N would have liked. If Chan wasn’t sure about the girl before, he certainly is now. He met her parents a little less than a month after they started dating, something Chan had been dreading. It was bad enough that he came from next to nothing and only had a shit job at a bar, but not meeting them before dating Y/N must not be doing him any favors.

It’s embarrassing, how nervous he was sitting across from her parents. Living under the circumstances he does, it’s safe to say he’s been in a number of stressful, nerve wracking situations. Despite this, he’s never been more anxious than at that moment.

It was a little out of the blue when Y/N had mentioned that since her parents were back in town, so he had to meet them. When he joked and told her she should give more of a warning, he found that it was unexpected for her too. She didn’t plan on telling her parents about Chan right away, but plans changed the day after her parents came back to town.

“So, what boy have you been hanging out with?” Y/N had nearly spit out her tea when she heard the question.

“What?”

“Marie said you’ve been spending some time with a boy.” Her mom called from the kitchen. Y/N simmered in the question for a bit, and wondered however Marie found out about her and Chan. She had thought back to when San saw her at the drive in and it becomes much more clear. San, despite not seeming like one, is a gossiper. He probably told the boy he always hangs out with, Wooyoung she believes his name is. And word spread as quickly as a forest fire. Luckily, they did not act outrageously. Though she actually had to introduce Chan to them now.

It went better than Chan thought it would. There was no yelling about how a man like him is unworthy of being in their daughter’s sight, and other than the threatening undertone her father had every time they spoke, he’s pretty sure Y/N’s parents kinda like him. Well, her mom likes him at least. On another note, Chan did get lucky. Y/N’s father had handed him a card, confusing him at that moment.

“Tell the secretary at front desk you are meeting me. Be there at noon on Monday. If you’re a minute late, don’t bother.” Chan had been speechless, reading the card. Y/N has never mentioned her father’s business before, so he wasn’t aware that he works at a famous publishing company.

Wait, not work. Owns.

Chan always knew Y/N’s family has money. It drips off the diamonds hanging on her ears and covering her wrists. Still he didn’t think her family was so rich.

Chan thanked the man profusely, repeating and repeating his gratitude so many times it must have been annoying. The company has published a number of works by his favourite artists and offers him a career he would never be able to get otherwise. Chan does not have any education, he never even finished high school. Originally he was concerned about this, but after expressing his worries to Y/N they disappeared.

“Chan dear, that doesn’t matter. He wouldn’t have offered you a job if you couldn’t do it.” Chan didn’t have any more concerns after that.

Y/N’s parents are gone again, her father needing to go to one of the department branches. Her mom always goes with him. That leaves the house to Y/N and Chan. Y/N has only been to Chan’s place once. It’s located in a less than safe area and Chan firmly believes his girl has no business being in such a place. It is a tad overprotective of him, but it can’t be helped.

The two watch a movie on Y/N’s tv. It’s some love story. Chan has never cared for them, but Y/N loves them. So they watch on as the man on screen sets up an elaborate scene to propose to his girlfriend.

“Quite obnoxious isn’t it?” Y/N comments from her spot under Chan’s arm. He looks over to her as he raises his hand to undo Y/N’s hair. She wears it up a lot more often now.

“You’re not into grand gestures?”

“That’s not what I said.” Chan runs his fingers through the girl’s hair, “Though I believe they’re unnecessary.”

“They can be sweet.” Is all Chan says, glancing over at the screen to see the male lead on his knee and the woman yelling yes.

Once the movie is over the two went upstairs to Y/N’s room. Chan is captivated by her collections. Shelves full with records and books.

“I never took you for a hoarder.” Chan comments, making the girl reach over and slap his shoulder, “You take good care of these.”

“Of course.” Y/N sits on her bed, and Chan picks a record, putting it on the record player. Music floods the room and he sits next to the girl.

“So anything special we’re going to do before you go?” Y/N hums, barely wanting to think about how she’s leaving town in a few weeks.

“Everything is special with you Chan dear.” She says it sickenly sweet without a hint of sincerity. He laughs and grabs her face softly, squishing her cheeks.

“You’re such a doll.”

Chan shakes Y/N’s face side to side before leaning in and kissing her pursed lips. It starts as one kiss, then two, and then Chan is holding Y/N’s face in his hands whilst kissing her passionately.

“I think I know.” Y/N whispers when Chan pulls away, nervously looking to the side, “A special thing we can do.” Chan takes a moment to process her words, before his eyes widen.

“Babydoll.” He practically groans the nickname, leaning in and kissing the girl quickly again, “Are you sure?” They have shared many passionate moments, but never went close into… that territory.

“We can wait til marriage- or longer if that’s what you want. Or never. Don’t worry about what you think I want, I only want you to be comfortable.” Y/N smile grows larger as she listens to Chan’s spiel. She places both of her hands on his shoulder, leaning forward.

“Sweetheart.” She stops his rant, “Why would I ask if I didn’t want to?” Patting his face, she leans away and he can clearly see how red her face is, “Wait until marriage? That’s so far away, is it not?”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Chan lifts Y/N’s left hand and kisses where the ring will be, “I’d marry you tonight if you wanted.”

“What would my parents think? Their daughter getting married without their knowledge.”

“And having sex out of wedlock is much better?” He laughs as Y/N makes an embarrassed sound and looks away from him.

“Don’t be so blunt.” It only makes him grin harder.

“Didn’t you just try to seduce me?”

“I didn’t- I-“ She sputters and Chan can’t help but press a hard kiss against her cheek.

“Now, to be serious.” He holds both her hands, “Is this something you really want?” “Do you love me Chan?” “More than words can ever express.” “So yes. I do want it.” He sighs, rubbing his thumbs over the back of her hands with a smile.

“It will hurt. I don’t want it to, but I fear it can’t be helped.”

“What is love without pain?”

“That’s a common misconception.” Chan says, “My love should never hurt you.” Placing a soft kiss at the corner of Y/N’s mouth, he starts to trail down to her jaw and neck. He gives a soft bite to the place below her ear before whispering to her, “So let me ask again. Are you sure?” Y/N’s faint whisper of ‘yes’ is all he needs to hear.

Chan grabs her face and brings her lips to his, hand going through her hair. He hears the girl hum when he bites her lower lip, and forces his tongue inside her mouth. Y/N has to physically push him away when she runs out of air, but he stays close. He moves to the side of her neck, one hand on her thigh. When her skirt starts to ride up, Y/N grabs his hand.

“Sorry.” Y/N smiles sheepishly as Chan pulls away, “Just instinct I guess.” He smiles softly.

“What else?” He tilts his head as she mumbles her answer, cute. “Hm?”

“I’m… embarrassed.”

“Of what? Your body?” He practically scoffs at the damn idea. Faster than Y/N can process, she is lifted to sit sideways on Chan’s lap.

“You can leave your clothes on, if that’s what you want. But don’t do it because you’re embarrassed or ashamed or for some stupid reason like that.” A kiss on one of the red marks on her neck. Since Chan’s hand was released upon placing the girl in her lap, he moves his hand up her thigh. Slowly so he can be stopped. He’s not. His hand reaches the fabric of her underwear and neither can hear the music playing anymore. Chan feels Y/N tense.

“Relax.” He tilts his head and brings the girl into a kiss in a attempt to sway her attention. He slips his hand into the fabric, swallowing her gasp.

As tempted as Chan is, he decides against dipping his finger inside just yet. Instead he lets his fingertips wander, smirking when Y/N lets out a cute little sound. After a while, he pulls his hand from under her skirt. The girl in his lap breathes heavily and Chan grins upon seeing what a effect he has on her.

“That’s nothing babydoll. Poor thing, you really don’t know what you’re in for.” He looks back at his fingers, a shine on them. Making eye contact with Y/N, he smirks before bringing his fingers to his own mouth, licking the wetness off of them and moaning at the taste.

Y/N is absolutely mortified, wishing she could close her eyes but her mind won’t let her. The heat pooling in her stomach is nearly unbearable and every time Chan opens his stupid mouth it gets worse. His deep and raspy voice sends a shiver down her spine. The smirk he wears reminds Y/N of the devil he truly is, rather than the darling she is used to.

Y/N lets out a little shout when Chan suddenly stands. Chan drops her on the bed and climbs on top of her. He cages her head with his elbows and rests his forehead on hers.

“Hey.” He whispers.

“Hi.” She squeaks back.

“You okay?” She nods and when she says ‘yes’ he sits up. He smiles, and his hands start to go up her legs. Slowly, he pulls down her underwear and throws them to the side. He moves down and rests between the girl’s legs. Leaning upwards on her elbows, she looks down at Chan.

“What are you-“

“You trust me baby?” He interrupts before she can ask anything more, “Yes or no, Y/N.”

“Of course I do. Yes, but what-“ Y/N cuts herself off with a moan and her arms collapse, falling back on the bed. The feeling is gone after a moment and she is left wondering what the hell that was.

“What-“ She is cut off again, and for a split second she sees Chan’s head nearly disappeared under her skirt. He pulls back, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Folding the skirt up to Y/N’s hips, Chan returns to his spot. He licks directly over her hole before dipping the tip of his tongue inside. The girl gets louder. She’s never felt like this before. Chan swearing almost made her legs shake, he’s never done that in front of her before. On instinct, Y/N grabs Chan’s hair in her hands and tries to push him away. She doesn’t get away with it, as Chan grabs both hands and pins them on the bed.

“Be a good girl.” And he presses her hands into the mattress slightly for good measure before letting go. This time, he grabs both of Y/N’s legs and rests them on his shoulders. He keeps a strong hold on her thighs and goes back down. Rather than just the tip, he forces most his tongue into her hole, making her cry out.

“Channie!” She clenches the blankets, moan after moan being forced from her lips as Chan dips his tongue inside her, licks and sucks at her clit. Occasionally he will let out a moan of his own, Y/N feels the vibration in her bones. She doesn’t know why he’s doing so though, since this can’t possibly be doing anything to make him feel good. She doesn’t think that hard about it. She can’t really think about anything other than Chan. Unknow to her, Chan is truly having the time of his fucking life eating his girl.

Suddenly a near scream like noise fills the room, and Y/N barely registers that the sound came from her. Chan had put two fingers inside her without warning, kissing her clit. “Oh- oh my god Chan.” She whines and he lifts his head just to show her a dangerous smirk. His mouth is wet and oh this is so embarrassing.

“Isn’t that nice?” He scissors his fingers, “Don’t you feel good?” Y/N doesn’t give a proper and he clearly doesn’t appreciate that, sucking her clit hard, making her cry out. “Words doll.”

“Good.” She pants out moving a hand to pet Chan’s head. He lets her, “So good Channie.” She yells out his name again when he adds another finger. Chest rapidly rising and falling as she tries to catch her breath.

“Fucking hell, you’re so pretty. Pretty girl.” His fingers curl inside her and something about it is different, it makes Y/N grip Chan’s hair so hard tears may have been brought to his eyes while she brings up her other arm and bites down on her forearm to cover up the much to loud sound that comes out of her. “Oh you like that baby?” Chan moves his fingers to touch that spot again, making her whine, “Yeah, I know you do.”

After a few minutes of torment, Chan moves up the bed to kiss Y/N’s lips, up her jaw and to her temple. He moves his thumb to replace where his mouth was previously. It brings a burning feeling to her stomach and her whole body tenses. Y/N reaches out to hold Chan’s wrist and push him away. This time, Chan doesn’t bother moving her hands, the weak pressure on his wrist doing nothing to faze him.

“Chan- Chan I feel-“ The sentence is not finished, the girl shoving her face in the pillow under her head. “What is it?” Chan forces her to look at him with a hand to her chin, “Tell me.” “Feels weird.” Y/N mumbles with a lack of better words to describe it. Chan laughs lightly. “Weird, you say?” He leans down to Y/N’s ear, his whispered words sounding like shouts, “Do you feel like you’re burning baby? Like you’re being held over a fire and forced to feel nothing but the flames kissing your skin?” He places a barely there kiss on her earlobe, leaving her skin red and hot, “Or are you overwhelmed? Are you drowning, with nothing but pure desperation rushing through your vains to get what you need?”

Not a single word was registered by the girl on the bed, Chan knows. He still only smiles as he moves his fingers faster, grabbing her face again to get her attention. “Be a good girl and let it go, I got you.” And Y/N is pulled into a completely different world. At least that’s what it feels like.

Her grip on Chan’s wrist slackens, and he pulls his hand away to see indents of her nails on his wrist. Not that it matters. He focuses on running his clean hand through her hair and dries his other one using the bedsheets.

When Y/N can finally force herself to speak, she doesn’t really know what to say. So the first thing that comes to mind is what is spoken, “That was nice.” In a single second Chan bursts into laughter, leaning his head down onto her shoulder. “Yeah it was.” He agrees, “That was your first time cumming?” Y/N face turns an even darker shade of red as she nods. Chan didn’t have to ask, he just wanted to get an answer. It boosts his ego, being the first and only person to ever make his girl feel like this, “You ready for more?” “There’s more?” Chan can’t tell if she’s being serious but even Y/N doesn’t know. Her eyes are drawn downwards to the front of Chan’s pants and there’s a lot more.

Chan first takes off his shirt, and the sight of his bare torso is not an unfamiliar one to Y/N. He runs hot, and often is not wearing a shirt when they are alone. Still, Y/N can never resists running her fingers along the outline of his chest, down to his stomach and over his abs. While his torso is something the sculptors in Paris can only dream of having as a muse, it’s really Chan’s arms that get her going. Large and muscular, showing just how easy it is for him to throw her around when he wants to. His pants are next, along with his boxers. Y/N refused to look, keeping her eyes on Chan’s face. His hands go up to Y/N’s shirt asking softly if it was alright for him to take it off. The answer is yes, all embarrassment regarding Chan seeing her body gone after what he has just done. Soon, the two are left naked on the bed.

“Stop staring at me.” “An impossible task, beautiful.” Y/N rolls her eyes and lets out a gasp when she feels Chan’s tip inside her. “This is the painful part, but I promise I’ll go slow. Feel free to punch me if you want.” Chan starts to push in and hell it does hurt. Despite being stretched out, Chan’s big, and it hurts. Background to the pain is an undertone of pleasure, and Y/N keeps her hand covering her mouth to muffle her sounds. “Shit. Shit, you feel so good.” Chan moans and presses his lips to her neck. He lets out a small whimper as he unconsciously thrusts forward, bottoming out, “Just- hm- tell me when you’re ready.” He kisses down her neck to her collar bone and top of her chest as he waits for Y/N to ready herself, “I know it hurts. Your body is not familiar with mine, but it will recognize me after tonight. It will understand I belong right here.” He finds one of her hands and interlock their fingers.

A few moments pass, and Y/N taps his shoulder “You-you can move.” Chan smiles and lifts himself up a little, not before pressing a long kiss against Y/N’s lips. “Hold onto me.” Y/N nods and rests her hands on the man’s shoulder blades. He starts slow, sweet as he gently rocks his hips. Soon though, Y/N is tapping her hands on his back and is asking, begging him to give her more. “You want me to fuck you harder, hm?” Y/N moans louder at his word choice. Chan never talks like that in front of her. Always one to behave in front of a lady, like he loves to say. “Please Chan.” Chan smirks, saying something about how his girl is so polite before he starts to pull out completely and thrusting hard.

Y/N scratched up Chan’s back, not having enough conscious to consider that it may be hurting him. Chan welcomes the sting though, he kind of hopes they scar. A physical claim for her to make on him. “It’s amazing, you know?” A particularly hard movement, “Every gasp, every moan. You create poetry without saying a single word. What a talent.”

“Chan. Channie.” She moans out and pushes Chan down to meet her for a kiss. Tears fill her eyes and threaten to fall since she feels so much more sensitive now. He pulls away and kisses the corners of Y/N’s eyes. Sweet, a drastic contrast to how he’s moving. After a few attempts, Chan finds an angle that hits Y/N’s spot, making her muffle a scream in her pillow. “Please more, Chan Chan-“

“Fuck.” Chan clenches his jaw when Y/N tightens around him, feeling just on the edge of release. With a grunt, he wraps his arms around Y/N, one hand holding the back of her head and the other at her lower back as he picks her up. Chan settles her in his lap and doesn’t give her any time to even process the sudden change in position as he grounds himself on the bed and thrusts up into her. Grabbing her waist, Chan pushes Y/N down as he thrusts up, making him go in deeper. “Come on babydoll. Come for me.” Arms wrap around his neck, Chan feels her bite his shoulder and tighten around him, “Atta girl.”

When Y/N comes down from her high, Chan gently pulls out and kisses her, letting her stay seated in his lap. “Chan you didn’t, um…” Y/N doesn’t finish her sentence, blood rushing to her face as Chan stares at her with a smile. He looks a mess, hair messed up, a bite mark on his shoulder and scratch marks on his arms. If he looks like that, she can only imagine how she herself looks. “I don’t think we should start a family until we’re married.” Chan kisses close to the middle of Y/N’s chest, where her heart lies under skin, muscle and bones. “Well-yes, I agree but I mean… can I help you?”

Chan blushes at that moment, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Do you want to?” Y/N affirms that she does, “Okay.” He pecks her lips, “Touch me baby.” Y/N brings her hand to Chan’s chest, kissing his shoulder as her hand goes downwards until her fingertips make contact with Chan’s cock. She touches him carefully, too nervous to do anything more. “Wrap your hand around me.” Y/N obeys, holding Chan in her hand. Chan moans loudly, jerking his hips, he doesn’t know how the fuck he managed to not come inside her earlier, “Shit. Fuck yes, that’s good honey. Move your hand a bit- yeah just like that.” Y/N barely needs to do anything before Chan is cumming, groaning into her neck.

When he feels alive again, Chan wipes off Y/N’s hand and his own stomach with the bed sheet before lying down, bringing Y/N with him. “Are you sure you don’t want to get married tonight?” Chan asks and a laugh echos through the room, over the music playing on the record player, “Ah Nevermind. I don’t have a ring yet.” “Maybe when I come home for the holidays.” “A winter wedding sounds lovely.”

Standing at the train station together, Chan thinks that maybe this was a fraction of the feeling military wives felt while sending their husbands off to war. Not the same, because there is no fear that Y/N will not be coming back, but the point still stands.

“Have you ever been on a train, Chan dear?” “Yes. But not the formal way.” That makes Y/N look at him with a confused expression,

“I used to train hop.” The girl nods looking forward towards the tracks. The autumn wind has just started to come out, messing up both their hair. The sun is setting, giving a warm golden hue to the world around them. “I’m sorry your parents weren’t able to make it.” Y/N shrugs, it’s not a big problem to her. “It’s alright. You’re here.” “Forever.” A voice rings through the speakers, announcing that the next train will arrive soon. “That’s me.” Y/N looks towards Chan, “You gonna miss me Channie?” “Not at all.” He pulls Y/N into a hug as she laughs at him, “I feel as if you are going to war.” Y/N pulls back from their hug, but stays close enough for Chan’s arms to remain around her waist. “School is not quite the same as a battle field.” “Either way, I will miss you just as much.”

Y/N has to look away from him when she feels her eyes water, “Hey, hey. Come here.” Chan wraps his arms around her from behind, swaying as they stand facing the horizon. Normally, Y/N would never allow Chan to display such affection in public, as it isn’t appropriate to do so. This time though, she lets it happen for both their sakes. “You know, one love the sunset when they are sad.” Y/N smiles upon hearing the reference. “Why is that?” “Many different reasons. Maybe because it marks the end, because it brings tomorrow just a little bit closer.” Chan rests his chin on Y/N’s head, “Or maybe it’s because the sky is beautiful at this time.”

They watch the sky until another train arrives. Y/N doesn’t have to say a word as she turns around just for Chan to bring her into a kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck and reaches up on her tiptoes as Chan bends down. It’s not even a deep kiss, but it conveys their feelings all the same.

Together they walk to the train and once onboard, Y/N quickly finds a seat next to the window and sticks her head out the open window. Chan waits just below and holds up his arm. Y/N reaches out and holds his hand. “I love you babydoll.” Is all he says before he places a kiss on the palm of her hand, the back and her ring finger, “I will be ready with a ring when you come back.” “Will you propose at the train station?” “The odds are not slim.” He gives another kiss. “I love you too.” Y/N says over the train engine, as they just are about to start moving. She is not close enough to see it, but a tear does fall from Chan’s eye.

The train moves very slowly at first, so Chan walks along with it and doesn’t let go of Y/N’s hand. Soon though Chan is forced to let go and Y/N assumes that he will stay still and let her pass, but he doesn’t. “What are you doing?” The question comes out as a laugh when Chan starts running along side the train. “A grand gesture!” He yells back, and runs until he can’t keep up anymore. Y/N waves as Chan disappears into the distance, before eventually sitting down in her seat. She cannot wait to be on this train again, with snow falling behind the windows and going the opposite direction.

“Chan dear, the last one if for you.” Y/N gestures to the final box under the Christmas tree. They sit together on the floor, along with their dog. A older mutt, used to be stray called bandit, “It’s fragile. So please be gentle.” “Ah, I hope it is nothing outrageous babydoll.” Chan smiles as he undos the perfectly tied ribbon on the box before he takes off the lid. “You didn’t doll.” Chan laughs as he reaches to grab what’s inside the box. “Oh but I did.” Chan lifts a small, King Charles Spaniel puppy out of the box. She squirms as Chan looks at her. A little red bandana is tied around her neck, ‘Berry’ sewed into the fabric in white. Chan brings the puppy closer to his face and allows her to give him plenty of face kisses. Bandit makes sure to get closer too, sniffing at the new family addition.

“I love you.You are the best wife a man could have, you know that?” Chan asks as puts Berry in his lap to lean over and kiss Y/N’s lips, before grabbing her hand and kissing the ring on her finger. One he gave to her three years ago. “I love you too, and of course I am.” The puppy crawls out of Chan’s lap and over to the woman, who allows Berry to rest on her leg with her head on her stomach. She makes sure to pet the older dog too, since like Chan, he tends to be a little jealous at times as well. “You’re not going to be the only lady of the house anymore.” Chan smiles and rubs the puppy’s ear.

“Oh we may overpower you soon.” Y/N laughs and gestures to her stomach, “We are still unsure as to what we will get.” “Ah, but I’m sure he will be a boy.” Chan places his hand on his wife’s belly. He quickly leans down and gives her belly a kiss before straightening up and kissing his wife properly.

“You cannot possibly know that.” “I have a feeling.” “And if she ends up being a girl?” “Then I will love her just as much.”

[questioninglogic]

Hi there! I don't mean to get you started, but, I'd love for you to break down Team RWBY's Aura Personality.

😅 Sincerely an individual whom you have piqued their interest and attention.

For context: (x)

Hi anon! First of all, thank you for this ask. I love RWBY so much and your message got me really excited to dive in! So much so I ended up... making it overwhelming at how much I had to say sdfsnjnsdj

I realized that I'm never going to finish this if I do all four girls in one post, so I thought I can start with one and write the others over time. Hope that is okay, and thank you for your patience!

. . .

The first thing I want to mention is the caption, where it states their aura is reflected in their personality. How this is displayed in RWBY is often shown visually: the characters designs, their colours, their actions. I will not only attempt to breakdown how these personality traits are represented in the characters, but how they are told to us through watching them on screen.

. . .

Ruby Rose: Passionate, Energetic, Driven

Red is a strong colour, said to bring out energy in a person by being in its presence. Red represents moods like passion, intensity and love.

. . .

Passionate: Capable of, having, or dominated by powerful emotions.

Early in the show, Ruby is shown to be very passionate about living life like a fairy tale. From hunters and huntresses defending a kingdom, describing slaying beasts as being romantic, to adoring the craftsmanship behind a users weapon.

This passion is also expressed with her love for her friends and family. She uses this excitement of being with them to make every moment count and to fight for what’s right. Even when Beacon fell, it was this passion that carried her throughout the Mistral and Atlas volumes.

These feelings of passion are not just positive, but all encompassing. When Ruby feels something, she feels strongly. When she was anxious to socialize, it was dreadful. When she saw the loss of her friends, it was devastating. When she lost her drive, it was shattering.

Ruby is an incredibly passionate person as she wears her emotions on her sleeve. She attempted to hide her negative feelings in volume 9, but if you look at and pick through various moments between volumes 7-9 this tension and stress would often come out in her dialogue and body language.

. . .

Energetic: Having energy or energies; possessing a capacity for vigorous action or for exerting force.

Ruby is full of energy. Her expression of adoration is displayed through quick patterns of speech and her eagerness to jump to action. Her weapon expresses this capacity for vigorous action with exerting force and intense power needed to slash an enemy. Add her semblance to the mix and she becomes a speeding bullet!

On top of how she utilizes this trait with her weapon, her semblance quite literally breaks down mass and becomes energy.

. . .

Driven: Motivated by or having a compulsive quality or need. Caused, sustained, or stimulated.

Her drive is as clear as her first moments on screen (whether you count the Red Trailer with her demolishing beowolves or episode 1 with her attempts at stopping Torchwick's robbery it's all the same).

She is a highly driven person: one who fights to protect humanity, fights for justice and is one of the last people to back down in the face of adversity.

Our minds might be focused on how her drive was displayed in volume 9, but let’s recall how she expressed herself after Beacon fell:

Volume 4: her choice to look at what happened to Beacon and decide to continue fighting. Going to Mistral while helping all along the way, this decision is the epitome of her drive.

Volume 5: remember her conversation with Oscar about moving forward, despite how much the loss of Penny and Pyrrha hurts she chooses to keep going

Volume 6: how Ruby was the last to be influenced by the apathy and the first to snap out of it. How she stood face to face against Cordovin's mech and a leviathan

Volume 7: even when faced with tough decisions, she continued to look to what was right with how she approached Ironwoood and co. How she stood by to protect Mantle the night of the grim attack

Volume 8: despite every horrible thing that happened in volume 8, she managed to pull together and create an ingenious plan to be able to gather and save Atlas, Mantle, Penny, everyone (and I am referring to how it was going before Cinder joined the chat)

Looking at volume 9, you see how Ruby is when she loses her drive. This is a huge part of her and her character, to the point that she becomes unrecognizable to herself. Who is she? What happens when she gives in to her doubts and anxiety?

In coming to terms with herself and learning she is good enough does she allow herself to become driven once again.

. . .

Finally, I want to direct you to her having silver eyes. This ability of light can be utilized with strong desires to preserve life. Feelings of love, passion, drive—these traits are literally her super power!

[raysoleil]

・゜゜•Commitment・゜゜・

"Tesoro" spoke Terzo softly and tiredly as he rose from the bed after a wild night with his favorite ghoul, Omega.

The day was bright and the sun came in from the window, Terzo had forgotten to close the curtains the night before, he sighed and got up, walking over to his closet and scrambling through it trying to find his suit, all while Omega was just getting up and stretching, yawning as he looked around and his eyes locked on the papa for a moment.

"I'm gonna go to practice with the ghouls." He said with a dry tone, it didn't take long for Terzo to respond

"Oh tesoro don't leave so soon, must you practice?" Sometimes the man felt like he was pathetic, needing the ghoul's company but it was true, he wanted to be held by him, to be loved and cherished by him but Omega didn't seem to want to reciprocate, and whenever he didn't feel like he needed company he was out.

"I'm not planning to stay here." spoke up the ghoul, yet again making Terzo feel like he was talking to a wall because of how dry the ghoul was.

Oh but how the papa loved him, he wasn't always like this, the ghoul could be loving! Or that was how Terzo saw the half hearted acts Omega would do just to make him stay close him and it surely was frustrating. Terzo continued to look at Omega for a moment to then look back at his nightstand, taking in the hour on the clock and sighing, he had to hurry up to be on time "Tesoro, won't you bid me goodbye?" Said Terzo as he looked at Omega with a soft gaze.

The ghoul didn't seem to be interested but he figured he'd have to do it if he didn't want Terzo to be upset.

Omega got up and went over to Terzo, giving him a short and soft kiss, when he pulled away Omega felt Terzo try to keep the kiss going until eventually giving up when Omega straightened up.

Terzo looked at Omega for a few seconds to then twist his lips up into a small smile, he turned on his heel and went over to the door, looking back at Omega and winking just before closing the door.

"... Ugh" The ghoul couldn't help himself but make a sound of disgust, he had been trying not to upset the man in hopes of saving all the drama but it usually didn't last long... At all.

The ministry was almost entirely silent and the only sound that could be heard came from the practice room where Omega resided, the ghoul could be a loner every now and then and would prefer to have a break from the world and his problems... And by problems he meant the increasing dread he felt, he didn't want to catch feelings for Terzo, at least not a full on "I'm in love" mindset, a crush was fine, Omega didn't care, but he couldn't let himself fall in love, he increasingly grew uneasy and worried about this ordeal, Terzo was nice, Omega knew that, but he also had his downs, it was difficult for the ghoul not to sigh every time he thought about what he should do. The ghoul spoke up with a sigh and an annoyed groan "What a mess"

Meanwhile the papa Omega was stressing over was getting ready for a ritual later in the day, putting on his famous suit and painting his face, the school becoming clearer as he painted in the black parts, he stared onto the mirror, looking at his face and hair, making sure to look perfect for the ritual and for a possible visit from his favorite ghoul.

A knock was heard on the door and when Terzo opened the door he saw Cardinal Copia, Terzo spoke up, looking at the cardinal with a raised brow "Do you need anything fratellino?" Terzo's tone was neutral, he didn't care much for the cardinal, he was a skittish and anxious man whose sole purpose was becoming the next papa.

The man spoke up softly with slight nervousness invading his tone "The ritual might be slightly delayed due to an incident related to a ghoul summoning..."

Terzo narrowed his eyes momentarily to then groan and sigh, looking at the cardinal with a frown. The cardinal began fidgeting with his fingers, now incredibly nervous. "I understand this may be a little bit uh... Annoying papa.. but it's imperator's orders..." The cardinal looked at the ground for a second, uncomfortable, he looked back up again to speak but was interrupted by Terzo "yes, yes understood, no need to explain more, Imperator chooses what to do" Terzo's tone wasn't exactly polite, he sounded annoyed of course, he had been waiting for this ritual all week and now it had to be delayed till satan knows when.

Meanwhile the quintessence ghoul, Omega, was with the other ghouls, discussing the incident.

The ghoul summoned had been through too much pressure while the ritual happened and therefore died after being summoned, Alpha and Omega were the ones more focused on the situation, talking about how to prevent this from happening to other ghouls, Imperator then came inside the room, staring at the ghouls with a neutral expression.

"The ritual shall begin in a few minutes, get ready, no being late, you know how your papa gets" Imperator grumbled and left the room, not letting the ghouls respond to her order.

By the time everyone was on stage it had already been 15 minutes past the originally planned time, Terzo was upset, he hated being late to rituals, he had been complaining during the entire preparation of the show.

Omega on the other hand couldn't give less of a fuck, he took his time and calmly put his instrument into shape, tuning it and putting it on his shoulders.

"Argh... Who does imperator think she is eh? There was no need to do this" spoke the papa to the quintessence ghoul, Omega looked at Terzo and frowned "a ghoul died, did you expect everyone to let it's body rot on the ground just so we'd be on time?" The ghoul growled as he spoke, feeling the lack of awareness about how terrible Terzo's statement sounded "Eh? What?! I never said such thing" responded the papa with an offended tone, how could he possibly say such a thing? Is what he thought.

What a bad start for a Ritual.

End of part one.

GEEZ TOOK ME LONG ENOUGH AM I RIGHT?!

I'm sorry it's this short, I've been having some trouble writing and with my mental health! But I swear I'll try to get part 2 done as soon as possible.

Please give this love guys

[owlbelly]

okay i seem to be gradually leaving the ~24hr period of temporal lobe hell i was just in, so i kind of want to write a little bit about what i'm calling "deja vu panic attacks" in case it's useful to anyone else who follows me. i don't know if there's a real term for this phenomenon somewhere - searching for the symptoms turned up a lot of overlap with a particular type of epilepsy & while i'm 99% sure i'm not having seizures (i had a student with this kind of epilepsy so i've seen them happen! it's pretty different), it was making me feel worse to keep reading all that, so. "deja vu panic" it is

my particular blend of depression/anxiety/PTSD (+ neurodivergence?) comes with very occasional dissociative episodes - mostly derealization & depersonalization, but i definitely think this deja vu panic thing falls into a dissociative category too. weirdly it's only happened to me twice, once back in 2019 & again just now. this is how it goes: i'm minding my own business going about my regular life (encountering no identifiable triggers) then suddenly i'll have the overwhelming sense that i either dreamed this exact moment or lived it in a past i've somehow returned to, which is combined with instant & total emotional certainty that i am doomed. sympathetic nervous system immediately flushes my body with so much adrenaline & cortisol that i feel cold/sick/dizzy/numb. once the acute "deja vu" moment has passed i'm left with a lingering sense of unreality & dread, like my perspective on my entire life has just shifted horribly & i don't know if i'll ever feel normal or be who i was before this ever again. the acute attacks just continue to happen over a period of hours - in 2019 i only had 2 attacks a few hours apart & started to feel normal after ~12 hours, but this time i had 5 acute attacks over a period of 12 hours & am only approaching normalcy after 24. i don't know what to make of that BUT here's what seemed to help:

physical comfort from & verbal interaction with loved ones. this includes cats. thank you cats for purring, thank you Jules for chatting with me, thank you Laurel & Jey for hugging/talking/letting me cry on you.

unusual/unexpected tactile sensations. a lot of the shit people are supposed to do for dissociation doesn't work for me because i'm a vivid dreamer who experiences nearly every sensation while i'm sleeping, so if i feel like i'm in a dreamlike state, naming 3-5 regular things i can see/touch/hear/taste is just not cutting it. however! something weird or intense is useful if trapped in the deja vu state. for example today Laurel dropped an ice cube down my fucking shirt because they rightly suspected it would jolt me (they asked first). it did!

radical acceptance of being in hell. okay hear me out. i noticed in between attacks that sometimes i would start to feel the deja vu coming on & if i turned towards it in my awareness (like "oh what's that? do i remember this?") i would move right into panic, while if i avoided it ("nope! distraction time") i could stave it off for a while but eventually it would catch up with me and i'd panic again. surprisingly, one side effect of being worn down by 12+ hours of this cycle was that i started to feel it coming & instead responded with "yup. that feeling. that's how we feel now. it's horrible" which amazingly led to NOT PANICKING. not panicking over a period of hours eventually led to not feeling so fucking dissociated, which appears to be leading to normalcy??

like, even as i'm writing this & rereading parts of it, i still feel pretty strongly that all this has happened before - everything feels familiar, but it's NOT feeling like i'm going to die or like my life is about to be horribly changed. i'm taking that as progress & hoping that tomorrow i don't even feel the deja vu anymore

as for "why did this happen" - i have no fucking idea. did i just get back from a very stressful trip? yes. am i anxious about the state of the world? always. but it's like my brain just spins a wheel where the options are various kinds of stress response & this one is an extremely tiny but outrageously horrible sliver of that wheel. love that for me!!!

[justanotheruser1]

AU where Sirius first meets Harry at the start of book 6

Sirius paces around the kitchen nervously.

“Sirius,” Tonks says, finally exasperated. “Come on. You’re worrying yourself over nothing.”

He barely hears her over the anxious thump of his heart. He’d been thinking about this moment - the moment he’d meet his godson - since the start of Summer. It hadn’t left his mind for more than a couple minutes at a time, the only thing to look forward to - and dread in equal amounts. 

“He’s old,” Sirius shakes his head, repeating the plethora of worries that have no doubt become familiar to the group with him in the kitchen. “He doesn’t need a godfather, he’ll hate me.”

“Come now,” It’s Molly this time, trying to comfort him. “Believe me when I tell you that boy is physically incapable of hating anyone - without an excellent reason to.”

Despite Sirius knowing that Molly is attempting to reassure him, he can’t help feeling bitter at the fact that she’s underhandedly rubbing it in his face that she knows his god son better than him.

So he doesn’t respond to her, in lieu of snapping and making it all the more stressful, and later, he’d come to thank himself largely for that action because at that very moment, the bell rings.

“That’ll be them!” Arthur says brightly, the only person apparently unaffected by the tenseness of the atmosphere.

He disappears and Sirius feels almost dizzy with nervousness. He clutches the back of a seat for support. In walks Dumbledore and closely behind him a shorter figure. 

The moment he looks, he knows he’ll never be able to look away. He looks so terribly like James, the same nose, the same jaw, the same eyebrows… but the eyes… 

They are the photocopy of Lily’s. Almond-shaped and a bright green. However, despite all this, there is something in the boys features that was distinctly his - perhaps the slight gauntness to his cheeks, or the darkness beneath his eyes that speak of many sleepless nights, a look he had never seen on James even during the height of the war.

“Hello everyone,” Dumbledore greets, smiling. “I hope we did not keep you up too late.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Molly says, despite the fact that it is 3AM. “It’s no worry at all. It’s great to see you both in good health.” She smiles warmly at Harry, who smiles back.

Sirius’ heart flops in his chest and it takes a second for him to realise that he’s actually feeling jealous . He’s trying to shake himself back to rationality when the bright green eyes suddenly land on him.

“Who are you?” He asks curiously and oh god, that’s his godsons voice. Dumbledore puts a hand on his shoulder and Sirius swallows. 

“Sirius Black,” he says, affecting a casual tone, hopefully sounding a lot more composed than he feels on the inside. “Ex-convict and escapee of Azkaban at your service.”

The boy doesn’t look scared, just curious.

Molly interrupts them to start setting the table and Harry ends up sitting to the left of him. Sirius physically cannot stop himself from continually glancing at him, taking in every aspect of his features that he couldn’t see from afar - every blemish, every scar. The kid has to notice but he does a remarkably good job in pretending not to. Realising that this is probably what he had to learn in face of his fame quickly stops Sirius. 

[ot7stan4life]

My Comfort

Jiu & Dami x Female Reader

*Requested*

(1 part - completed ✅)

Word Count: 2,400

Summary: Just as you and your seven members are getting set on stage to perform at an award show, you start to have a panic attack. Minji and Yubin pull you backstage to help you through it.

Warnings: depictions of panic attack, self-deprecating dialogue, fluff ending

You had never considered yourself an overly anxious person. In fact, you prided yourself for how well you dealt with stressful situations, especially since you were forced to experience them often given your occupation as a kpop idol. The worst it usually ever got was a nervous heartbeat and sweaty palms here and there that might’ve distract you long enough to forget choreo at a fansign or trip over your words in an interview. Never anything major.

Certainly nothing like this.

As you stood next to your members on a dark stage, taking your place before the performance began, an unavoidable dread hung heavy on your heart. You couldn't be sure what exactly caused it—maybe the exhaustion you’d felt after a year of nonstop shows and promotions, maybe the added pressure that came with greater recognition following your group’s first win, maybe the constant hate being thrown at you that seemed even more prevalent in the recent weeks—whatever it was, it made your body hyper aware of everything around you.

The hundreds of people with their eyes drawn to the stage where you stood, whispering and talking. All with their own judgmental opinions of you and your members and your song and performance. The cameras zooming in, filming your every move, there to catch any mistakes and project it for the audience to see and record it for the world to replay over and over again for as long as they wanted, critiquing every little detail. The stage lights flipping on, shining a spotlight on you like an object to be ogled at, now overstimulating your senses and blinding you.

Why was it so bright? Had these stage lights always been this bright?

Your mind was racing with endless thoughts, never able to decide which one to focus its attention on. It was like flipping through a photo book without stopping long enough to take in one single picture. Just a never ending cycle of images and thoughts flooding your mind when you should've been focused on the upcoming performance. But it only got worse when your brain seemed to process the clothes wrapped around your body. All the sudden they felt too small, too tight. You wanted to rip them off of you. They were suffocating, just like the lights and the people and the camera and quicker and quicker your lungs inhaled and exhaled, oxygen thicker and harder to breathe with every breath. Sweat beaded on your forehead and you soon felt lightheaded. Your limbs all tingled with a sickly cool sensation and your mind grew foggy. The crowd in front of you started to waver and spin as the ground below you grew unstable. You weren’t moving but the room around you was. There was so much noise and silence all at the same time and your heart stung in your chest and pounded in your ears.

You couldn't even hear the music start, but it didn't matter anyways because you were clutching your chest and falling to the ground before you could ever move, the performance a distant blur to you. In that moment you’d forgotten where you were altogether as black dots spotted your vision, spreading until all you saw was darkness. For a second you thought you might've passed out, and maybe you did, but the next you were being dragged off stage by two strong pairs of arms, secure around either side of your body with your own arms slung over their shoulders. All you could do was weakly step in stride with them as they lead you somewhere backstage. Your eyes were closed now, but that only made it worse.

Your thoughts were somehow even more overstimulating than the surrounding environment. Once you processed what just happened, they became less random and more intentional. More targeted. They scolded you for being so weak. So unprofessional. How could you just let something as routine as a performance overwhelm you? How could you let the opinions of those who didn't matter get to you? How could you pass out on stage in front of a live audience? How could you embarrass yourself like that? How could you embarrass your group like that? You ruined the performance. You made your group look bad. You let your members down. You let the crowd down. You let your fans down.

One after the other, shot after shot fired at yourself, breaking away your strength and busting through your once composed exterior. Tears that you didn't realize had accumulated underneath your eyelids spilled down your cheeks while your lungs fought hard to keep up with the fast pace of your heart. Everything hurt and you felt trapped inside yourself. You were sure you’d never be able to break free from the prison of your mind and escape the incessant torture of negative thoughts.

Until you heard a soft voice.

"Y/N,” though it was distant, it started to ground you. Pull you from the darkness that consumed you. You felt the cushion of a couch beneath you and one hand on your shoulder, the other on your leg. "Hey, look at me." Another pair of hands felt soft and warm as they were gently placed on your cheeks. The contact willed your eyes open and forced you to look up at her through your tears. Focusing on anything was difficult, but Dami seemed to understand this, calmly saying "breathe" followed by a repeated rhythm of inhaling and exhaling oxygen through her lungs. You closed your eyes again and focused on her breathing, eventually matching her steady pace. Slowly, the thoughts started to dissipate one by one, your mind zeroing in only on the sound of air leaving her lips. The excruciating hammering of your heart gradually slowed to a normal, bearable rate as you leaned forward into her touch. Just as your forehead met hers, everything seemed to calm and your mind was finally at peace once again.

"You're okay,” she whispered, smoothly brushing her thumbs across your cheeks to collect the stray tears falling down them. "I'm right here,” she reminded you. You weakly reached up to hold onto her wrists, finding comfort in the feeling of her skin against yours.

Dami took the contact as a good sign and hesitantly leaned her head back so that your foreheads were no longer connected, but left her hands cupping your cheeks. When you opened your eyes and sniffled, you found her looking at you with a concerned expression, yet she granted you a small smile in hopes that it might lift your mood.

"I'm sorry,” was the first thing you thought to say. Your voice came out weak, groggy from the crying fit that had irritated your throat.

A different hand appeared in your peripheral, raising to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, drawing your attention to a member you didn't realize was sitting next to you on the couch until now. "Don't apologize,” your group leader spoke gently but assuredly, her eyes glazed over with unshed tears upon seeing one of the women she loved have an anxiety attack right before her, rendering her helpless.

You let out an unsteady exhale before leaning back against the couch. Dami released her hands from your face, instead placing one on your thigh and the other in one of yours: a silent reminder that she was still there with you while your attention shifted to Minji. "I ruined the performance,” you voiced. It was true, after all.

"That doesn't matter,” Minji shot back, unhappy with the fact that you would ever blame yourself for something like this.

"Yes it does,” you pushed back, now fully aware of just how big of a deal this was. "We’ve been preparing for this all year and I ruined it." The back of your throat started to burn, warning of oncoming tears.

"You couldn't control it,” Minji insisted, her perfect, pink lips pulling down further into a frown the more you berated yourself. "That's not your fault, baby." She inched closer to you, affectionately brushing her hand across your cheek, making you look into her eyes. It was obvious she was trying hard to convince you to see the truth in her words, but the damage from your previous thoughts had already been dealt.

"That doesn't matter,” you repeated her words. "People were counting on us to do well." Your eyes focused somewhere in the distance, no longer looking at her or Dami. All you could think about was your fans and how much you had let them down. "The fans have been waiting for this all year and I blew it." Your jaw clenched while you tried desperately to fight back the tears.

"I guarantee you not a single fan cares about the performance right now,” Dami replied matter-of-factly. Truth be told she was a little angry that you cared so much about the performance when that was the most irrelevant concern in her mind right now. They both knew you were stubborn and often tough on yourself but this had taken it to a whole new level.

"Everyone out there is only worried about your well-being,” Minji added, using her thumb to tilt your chin up so that you were looking at her again. "You getting better is all that matters right now, you got that?" She cocked an eyebrow, her tone less gentle in order to get her point across.

Sighing, you gave in, "yes,” you accepted, pushing the blame to the back of your mind for now.

"Good." Minji finally allowed herself to smile. The mere sight of it never failed to make you feel better. "Now let me go get you some water,” she said, standing up and placing a soft kiss on the top of your head before leaving the small dressing room.

Dami squeezed your hand, bringing your attention back to her. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly, scooting closer to your side in her own sort of protective way, never tearing her eyes away from you. You knew she was still worried, especially since this had never happened before.

You sat up straight, turning more towards her before replying, "I'm okay." Squeezing her hand back, you leaned in closer, finding comfort in her warmth like before. "Thanks to you." Your words elicited a smile from her: a real, genuine smile. You couldn't resist yourself, scooting even closer to kiss it off her face in a show of gratitude. Just like earlier, she held your cheeks in her hands, keeping you there as if you might dissolve into thin air or pass out again if she didn't support you.

"You really scared me for a second there,” she mumbled when you separated, her voice unsteady. It was rare for Dami to show such vulnerability; that's how you knew her words weren't an exaggeration. She had seen it all happen in slow motion, her heart stopping dead in her chest when you dropped in front of her. Both her and Minji were quick to rush to your aid, not caring one bit about starting the performance. The other members carried on reluctantly, despite their obvious concern, knowing at least someone had to remain on stage to see the performance all the way through. Had it been up to them, they would've blown it off just to make sure you were alright.

"I know,” was all you could manage in response. It came as a shock even to you, so you really can't imagine how surprised and horrified they were. They all had such big hearts, especially Minji; it was very likely that seeing you in such distress was more painful for them to witness than it was for you to experience. "But I'm okay now,” you reassured the younger member, placing your hands on top of hers and giving her your best convincing smile. She reciprocated, though hers still appeared uneasy.

"Here, my love,” Minji's voice prompted Dami to release you from her hold, allowing you to grab the chilled water bottle the leader was handing you. You thanked her and took a sip as she resumed her spot next to you on the couch. Her hand instantly raised to comb her fingers through your hair while you drank, apparently not wanting to go a second without showing you affection. A silence washed over you as they both just watched you take slow sips of the water, allowing your mind and body to finally find some relief.

Once you drank enough water, you screwed the lid back onto the bottle. Before you could put it on the small table in front of you, Dami carefully grabbed it from your hands and did it for you. Though you could've done it yourself, you found her extra cautious and caring behavior heartwarming.

"The members were wanting to see you, but I told them to give you some space for now,” Minji informed you, her hand now playing absentmindedly with your fingers while she stared at you lovingly, her head propped up by her other hand on the back of the couch. "Whenever you're ready, we can go over there or I can send them over here, but there's no rush." She interlocked her fingers with yours, her patience and thoughtfulness causing familiar butterflies to rage in your stomach. "I also want you to get checked out by medical staff... just in case." Her lips pursed as if just remembering what happened all over again and the thought of it brought her discomfort.

"Okay,” you complied with a gentle smile of thanks. Though, you didn't feel it was enough, so you tugged on her hand, edging her towards you. She got the hint and leaned in to close the distance. Her lips moved rather hesitant against yours, almost like she didn't want to harm you any further. You let go of her hand and brought yours up to her face to pull her more into you, sighing against her mouth in content.

Even just a simple kiss from either of them could wash away all the bad feelings you’d ever felt. They were your comfort, and, from here on out, you swore to never take that for granted.

**This imagine was transferred over from my Wattpad account OT5Stan4Life**