#but that anger will continue to hurt YOU. it will punish YOU. it will prevent YOU from making new deep connections. it will protect you yes

[inkskinned]

he says i hate everyone except you and that is addictive and that is kind of romantic and beautiful because you're young and you're kind of a sarcastic asshole too and you don't like bad boys, per say, but you don't really like good ones either. and you like that you were the exception, it felt like winning.

except life is not a romance book, and he was kind of being honest. he doesn't learn to be nice to your friends. he only tolerates your family. you have to beg him to come with you to birthday parties, he complains the whole time. you want to go on a date but - people are often there, wherever you're going. he's just so angry. about everything, is the thing. in the romance book, doesn't he eventually soften? can't you teach him, through your own sense of whimsy and comfort?

at first - you know introverts often need smaller friend groups, and honestly, you're fine staying at home too. you like the small, tidy life you occupy. you're not going to punish him for his personality type.

except: he really does hate everyone but you. which means he doesn't get along with his therapist. which means he has no one to talk to except for you. which means you take care of him constantly, since he otherwise has no one. which means you sometimes have to apologize for him. which means he keeps you home from seeing your friends because he hates them. you're the single exception.

about a decade from this experience, you'll type into google: how to know if a relationship is codependent.

he wraps an arm around you. i hate everyone except you. these days, you're learning what he's actually confessing is i have very little practice being kind.

[supremechancellorrex]

Avatar in my head and I was thinking about Maiko and Mai.

Now, Mai's character arc in Avatar, from my interpretation, is rediscovering herself and her wants and personhood that has been stripped from her as a noblewoman part of a family that submitted to the Fire Nation Imperialist structure and Ozai. We see in Book 2 set up for this. Mai in early Book 2 does not resist Azula's will aside from brief sparks of rebellion where she isn't present. "Of course not, Princess Azula" she notes formally and apathetically when Azula asks if she "minds", knowing she has no choice as Azula 'just' ponders if Mai's hostage brother is worth an Earth King like Bumi. Mai is always aware that Azula, as Princess in an authoritarian nation where the Fire Lord is God, can have her executed and her family punished. The unequal power dynamic is surprisingly consistent in the show.

Mai can't even insult Azula back in Zuko Alone as a child. She just lets Azula put an apple on her head (as Ty Lee loyally sniggers along), set it on fire, and when Zuko pushes her into the fountain to put it out, Mai, drenched, glares and says "You two are such… ugh". We know Mai can have an acid tongue, yet her fear of Azula prevents her from using it. Her most rebellious act in Book 2 is when she says "She can shoot all the lightning she wants at me. I am not getting in that wall sludge juice". Mai actually has self-respect, but she can't express it in the presence of greater threats, meanwhile Ty Lee merely says "Come on! Azula said we have to follow them", because Ty Lee follows Azula's will even when she isn't there.

Even when Mai gets with Zuko, she falls into a subservient role. When Azula interrupts Maiko's smooching, lazily dismissing Mai with "Oh Mai, Ty Lee needs help untangling her braid" Mai responds quickly "Sounds pretty serious" with only a touch of dryness and leaves, only able to muster throwing Azula a dirty look a split second after passing her. However, this little ember of rebellion will grow.

Mai has continued difficulty understanding Zuko's anger and reactiveness, or how to even function in a relationship. She initially tries to joke in a dismissive fashion, as if saying 'ugh, feelings are lame, right?', but that would only work with Azula logically. The Beach episode is a key Mai episode. She continues to be emotionally repressed, to the point Zuko, Ty Lee and Azula comment on it. However, Zuko's insecurity at her talking to Ruon-Jian to the point he physically removes him from her presence, and his accusative comments like "You like him, don't you?", also makes Mai feel a little boxed in, controlled, and that does irritated her given her history. However, at the Beach's emotional narrative climax, Mai is able to finally express herself at the rest of the group (Azula included) for the first time, telling them to "Leave her alone" and that she's "still mad". After Zuko explosively reveals the extent of his pain and confusion, we see a 'smoothing' effect on her attitude. She realises her and Zuko are dealing with pain in different ways and his way is understandable.

Mai says softly, "I know one thing I care about, I care about you". This is the one thing Mai can grasp in the confusion. This is where Mai betraying Azula becomes inevitable. We see Mai continue to be more supportive with Zuko, more actively trying to cheer him up in Nightmares and Daydreams with big smiles and jokes while Zuko remains shut down over the War meeting and is acting irritated and repressed due to his family trauma. When Zuko later leaves and joins the Avatar, Mai is hurt and angry, which shows in the Boiling Rock, saying "All I get is a letter? You could have at least looked me in the eye when you ripped out my heart". They have a tense conversation, but it's their most honest one. I actually think Mai already made up her mind in this scene to support Zuko over Azula, and she doesn't quite realise it. "Save it? You're betraying your country" she accuses, to which Zuko replies, resolute, "That's not how I see it", and in response Mai just folds her arms and turns her head away in an almost defeat.

I find it very telling she doesn't respond. It's because she realises Zuko is more passionate and resolute about his mission than she is hers. It's because she knows the Fire Nation under its current authority is not exactly great. Sometimes in life we fall into a box and we need someone to give us that little push so we can realise we can climb out of it, that the toxic space we're in isn't normal, and we don't have to tolerate it. I like to think Mai was thinking in that moment where Zuko locked her in the cell and he and she gazed into each others' eyes, what she was really thinking about was what life she actually wanted to live. She was thinking of Azula and being under her thumb, and she was thinking of all those moments with Zuko, like when they were lounging on the sofa together, smiling and joking in Nightmares & Daydreams, and she realised how ridiculous it was to be afraid of Azula killing her when the real fear should be being Azula's servant until her dying days, decades of repression and misery.

After all, what does Mai have left to fight for? Fear of Azula? Hah, what a joke. She remembers "I know one thing I care about. I care about you" and when she sees Zuko about to die she has to intervene.

"I guess you just don't know people as well as you think you do. You miscalculated. I love Zuko more than I fear you" Mai says to an increasingly-enraged Azula's speak of 'consequences', because Mai did fear Azula, but now in her love for Zuko she has found a purpose she has been lacking, her feelings and wants over Azula's will. Zuko being true to himself is contagious. Iroh's love for Zuko puts him on the right path, and in turn the love Mai has for Zuko saves her. As a consequence Ty Lee chooses Mai and their friendship over Azula's toxic, fear-based one and even later bonds with former enemies like the Kyoshi Warriors. Like Zuko says to Ozai, "an era of peace and kindness" will replace an "era of fear". In the face of fear, love and empathy win.

[soapyghostie]

Hey! Absolutely random request, but imagine reader being a tired person that out of wounds and stress they just fall asleep when they're being carried, about to go on a hook. How would the dbd killers(any, really) react?

Like, imagine. Being carried, without anything under legs can already make someone sleepy if they don't have adrenaline pumped through their veins. Plus, i know that having wounds(aka blood loss) can make people very tired.

Since this request it a little vague, I decided to get a little creative with it and wrote some angst because I’m a sucker for angst with dad slashers (except Frank is your big brother in this request). 😭 Hope you enjoy!

The Ghost Face/Danny Johnson

Danny would be confused at first, bloodlust still kicking through his veins even after killing all our teammates as he carries you, his injured daughter, to the hook (Sorry (Y/N), he’s just doing his job. No hard feelings). He’ll pause for a moment, trying to process the fact that you feel asleep on his shoulder.

As he realizes that you fell asleep due to exhaustion and stress from your wounds, Danny’s demeanor would soften and his parental instincts within him kicks in. He’ll gently adjust you in his arms from being thrown over his shoulder to being carried bridal style, ensuring that you’re comfortable even as he still proceeds to hook you. 

Seeing you in such a vulnerable state would stir up a lot of internal conflict in Danny. He’s torn between his role as a merciless killer and his love for you as his daughter as he hesitates to sacrifice you to the Entity. Danny’s had a lot of bad performances in trials lately and he really needs the 4K. However, to get the 4K he needs to sacrifice you. Of course it has to be you: the Entity is so cruel. 

As to not get punished by the Entity, sadly, Danny will throw you onto the hook. Danny would feel a pang of remorse and sadness. He knows that he’s the cause of your pain and exhaustion, and seeing you in such a vulnerable state serves as a painful reminder of the life he’s subjected you to. He silently reflects on his actions and their consequences. He’ll gaze at your sleeping form dangling from the hook, grappling with the complexities of his emotions and the choices he made. 

Despite his conflicted emotions, Danny remains committed to his role in the Entity’s twisted game. However, Danny’s determination to protect you remains unwavering. He’ll play the Entity’s game and continue this dark path as a killer if it means to ensure your safety as he doesn’t want you to be harmed as a result of his shortcomings… 

The Legion/Frank Morrison

Frank would be initially shocked and panicked to see you, his younger sister, in such a vulnerable state. Despite his tough ‘bad boy’ exterior, he deeply cares about you and seeing you hurt triggers his protective instincts. 

The sight of you falling asleep from exhaustion and stress while carrying you to the hook fills Frank with anger and frustration. He’ll curse under his breath, feeling powerless to protect you and frustrated with the situation at hand. First off, your god damn heavy after going unconscious and, secondly, he has no choice but to hook you due to the amount of failed trials he’s had lately to try and please the Entity. 

Despite his anger, Frank, also like Danny, would feel a sense of inner conflict. On one hand, he wants to lash out at the Entity for throwing her into a trial with him, but on the other hand, he knows he has to get the 4K by hooking you so you end up safe and sound at the survivor camp instead of the agony the Entity threatened to put you through if he didn’t start stepping it up in trials. You’re the reason he has the strength to keep going in this awful, twisted game of cat and mouse. 

Frank would grapple with the feeling of guilt and responsibility for your condition. As your older brother, he feels entitled to preventing you from getting hurt in the first place and blames himself for everything that has happened to you. Despite his conflicting emotions, he would carefully and gently place you on the hook, making sure you're as comfortable as possible given the circumstances. As he watches you sleep on the hook, Frank would have a quiet moment of reflection. He reminisces about y’all’s childhood together and vows silently to himself to do whatever it takes to keep you safe. 

Seeing you vulnerable would only fuel Frank’s determination to perform better in trials. He would be even more relentless in his pursuit of survivors, driven by the desire to protect you from the Entity’s hungry claws. 

The Shape/Michael Myers

Michael would pause, a flicker of confusion crossing his expressionless face. The sight of you, his daughter, falling asleep despite the dire circumstances briefly disrupts his usual relentless pursuit to satisfy his murderous desires. 

Deep within his obscured psyche, a conflict brews. While Michael is driven by an insatiable urge to kill, his parental instincts stir, conflicting with his murderous impulses. This momentary hesitation leads to a brief internal struggle, the likes of which observers of Michael would never perceive. 

Despite the task at hand and the chaos of the trial, Michael momentarily freezes, holding your unconscious body with an eerie stillness. His iconic breathing momentarily ceases, as if he too, like Danny and Frank, were contemplating the peculiar situation. 

In a rare display of tenderness, Michael gingerly adjusts your position, ensuring that you're comfortable even as he prepares to hook you. His movements would be precise, almost caring, as if he’s trying to shield you from further harm, even in your unconscious state. As he gazes upon your sleeping form, fragments of memories flicker through Michael’s mind. Images of you as a child, innocent and untouched by the darkness that now envelopes you both, momentarily soften his gaze, perhaps even cause a subtle twitch at the corners of his mouth – a long-forgotten smile. You are his world. 

Ultimately, the weight of his desire to kill and the futility of his attempts to connect with you wash over Michael. With a heavy heart hidden beneath his iconic mask, he proceeds with the task at hand – sacrificing you to the Entity. With a solemn determination, Michael carries you to the hook, his obsession with killing eclipsing any semblance of any paternal sentiment.

[seramilla]

(How DARE you post it when I promised I’d be good, now look at what you’ve made me do!!)

Lute may want to see Emily but…why?

Does Emily even want to see her right now??

It’s all just complicated.

Emily is with Odette and Clara when Sera comes to let her know Lute is awake and they spoke.

…And that she wants to see her.

Emily is very hesitant to get up and go. Her mind is racing with an endless stream of thoughts and questions.

Clara and Odette watch her carefully for any reaction at all when Clara speaks up.

“Do you want us to go with you? I can punch her in the face if she tries anything.”

Emily shakes her head breaking the trance she was in.

“No, thank you for the offer though. I think I can handle this.”

Emily gets up and follows her sister to the room and takes a deep breath as she grabs the handle.

Lute is sitting in the bedroom alone with her thoughts.

‘You idiot, why would she want to see YOU? You’re nothing but a vile DEMON that got her and her sister cast out of heaven. It’s all YOUR fault they needlessly suffered! You don’t deserve their kindness. Just look at what you’ve become. Now your outsides match your insides. No better than the very sinners you slew…’

“…shut up…”

It’s hard to breathe suddenly.

“Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!!!”

Lute clutched and clawed at her head and pulls at her hair because pain would usually makes those thoughts get quiet again. She stared at her left arm and grabbed a patch of feathers and pulled….ripping them out right as Emily walks in.

Emily can only stare in shock and horror as she sees Lute tearing out a clump feathers.

“LUTE!!”

"Lute, stop!"

Lute doesn't listen. She keeps pulling, and pulling, until there is a patchwork of tiny pinpricks and golden blood marring her skin, like someone had taken a hole punch straight to her arm, leaving tiny, miniscule openings for blood to come through.

"Lute, please, you're hurting yourself!"

Emily pulls on Lute's opposite arm -- the angelic one, that can still fit so perfectly into the other angel's palm. She tugs when Lute tries to wrench it away from her again, to continue her relentless picking of feathers on her demon arm, but Emily is stronger than she looks. She holds Lute's hand to the bed, preventing her from causing more damage.

"Why do you care if I'm hurting myself?" Lute asks. She's trying to project anger, and that same stone-cold demeanor that Emily is used to. But Emily can see that the wall placed around herself is crumbling. This behavior, this blasé and no-care attitude, has always been a front. She can see that, more than ever now. Lute has always used it to hide the pain.

It's not an excuse, Emily reminds herself. It's never going to be a valid excuse to justify everything Lute has done. But it's an explanation. One she can understand...even if she doesn't support what it used to hide.

"Because I don't like to see anyone in pain," Emily says, holding her hand down tighter. "Even you. Even though I'm still...mad at you. I am still so livid, that I almost didn't come in here. What you did...it makes me so angry to even think about. I still haven't forgiven you, for everything you did! But..."

Emily observes Lute for what she is now. A decrepit, mangled creature, constantly fighting against her own will to survive, and wanting to inflict pain on herself. For what? To punish herself for past mistakes? That wasn't her call to make. To the people she'd wronged...this isn't justice. It's insanity! Two wrongs don't make a right...Lute torturing herself won't change what happened!

"...But?" Lute asks. She tries to make it sound disinterested; like she doesn't care. She fails spectacularly.

"But I never wanted this!" Emily clarifies, motioning to the whole of Lute's body to illustrate her point. "I would never want you to suffer like this!"

"Then what do you want?" Lute asks, turning her head away, and grunting as she tries to lie down. Emily can see it's hard for her to get comfortable. Lute won't look at her now.

"I wanted you to change. See that there could be another way," Emily explains. "Heaven made you do such awful, terrible things. Then told you it was okay, because it was for the Heavenly mandate. Heaven doesn't know everything! They get things wrong, sometimes! They were wrong about me! You could have stood up for me and Sera, but you didn't!"

Lute flinches away. She turns over on her good side, facing away from Emily. Emily can see how much it pains her to do so. But she doesn't let Lute's feigned indifference make her stop talking.

"I know you can hear me. You know I'm right. What I want, Lute...is to be able to forgive you someday. I didn't want to trade my suffering for yours. That doesn't solve anything and just perpetuates the cycle of pain. I just wanted you to see...see where I was coming from. I think now you have. I hope I can try to forgive you, but...you'll need to start learning to forgive yourself first."

Lute doesn't answer. She doesn't even acknowledge Emily's words, even though Emily knows she heard them. Emily apologizes, tells her to "Think about what I said, okay?," and turns away. As she leaves the room, she doesn't see Lute's shoulders quake with grief. She doesn't see Lute cry, as her tears mingle with the golden blood that's already stained her pillow, and wallow in her self pity even more.

[deffnotweird]

Machine Error:

November sixteen twenty-seventy five, the weather in New York was incredibly cold, despite this, Michael had to get a haircut, for in just two days he would be holding a big presentation for his associates in Norway. Michael was a big shot in his company, sales executive at just 23 years old, he loved seeing all the older guys at the company getting frustrated whenever he was assigned a big project. His hazelnut hair was quite long, going over his shoulders, he hated tying them up in a bun when at the office, but he always put his professional appearance over his own comfort. Which is exactly why he decided to cut them, this new project was bigger and far more important than anything else he’d ever worked on, nothing could be out of place. And so, while it pained Michael to lose his beloved locks, he decided that it was the best course of action for his career.

On Saturday he took a cab to a nearby automated barbershop, the mechanical precision was exactly what Michael needed. While the roads were quite busy, that barbershop was completely empty that day, the hair-cutting machines being the only moving thing there, he was greeted by a robotic voice: “Welcome, please take a seat at station number two”, Michael thought it was odd that he wasn’t directed to station one, after all nobody else was there, but he didn’t pay it much mind. After sitting another automated voice asked him to select a cut on the screen standing in front of him, the screen was pretty old, twenty-sixty nine model at least, probably even older. He looked at himself in the mirror, picturing something that would look good on him, in the end he decided to go for a classic business cut, short on top, shorter on the sides, searching through the catalogue on the screen he found the exact style he wanted, Mike tried to select it a few times but it seemed to have severe input lag, for a moment he thought “wow, I chose a really shitty place for my haircut, the reviews seemed high enough, must’ve been boosted by bots, fucking shameless”. Despite his discontent he hanged back and prepared himself for his cut: “People who run businesses like these should be in prison”. The machine picked up on his words, “activating prisoner mode”, suddenly a metal collar wrapped itself around the neck of the businessman, “woah woah, what the fuck, stop this!” he said as he tried to pry open the collar with his hands, this proved to be futile however, as the chair just sent out a shock through the collar, hurting the man “FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK?!”, another robot voice scolded him “Please, refrain from struggling and stand still.” Michael was beyond pissed off, but he didn’t have much choice, he hanged back and waited for the machine to finish working on him. While the man expected the cut to be mediocre, it actually turned out pretty well, nevertheless his anger hadn’t diminished “My old man is a lawyer, this place is getting shut down you can bet on it!” the machine once more picked up on his words “you have chosen the ‘old man cut’”, Michael had fucked up, he saw the clippers getting close and tried to once more pry open the collar that prevented him to move, this time however the shock was much greater.

The “prisoner mode” was used by jails and prisons who didn’t have a dedicated room for haircuts, while almost none of the prisons met this criteria, the function was still added to the “Trim-m3”. As was the norm with convict treatments all around the world, the punishment for continued misconduct was severe, therefore inmates getting a haircut would be rendered unconscious in case they didn’t behave, such a function was actually debated to be inhumane by many activists, but court ruled in favor of it and so it ended up in almost every hair-cutting machine made from twenty-fifty six onwards.

While the unfortunate man was knocked out cold, the machine worked swiftly and efficiently on his head, firstly the clippers ran through the hair at the top of his head, turning it into a really short stubble, afterwards, shaving cream was lathered over the stubbles and and a straight razor was used to clean it all up. In the end “Hair-no” gel, a miraculous invention made by and for bald-by-choice people (but mostly used by models to get rid of body hairs permanently), was put on the freshly shaven scalp, after making it sit there for three minutes, the hardened gel was ripped off, removing any follicle with a one-hundred precent accuracy and making it so nothing could grow there ever again. After a few minutes, Michael woke up on the chair, the collar had retreated and he could once again stand up, only that wasn’t the first thing he noticed, waking up Michael saw the mirror in front of him, showing off his freshly shaven scalp and his stylish male-pattern-baldness cut. Michael had no words, he sat there staring at the mirror in disbelief, rubbing his scalp as the machine repeated “your cut is done and we hope you’re satisfied, please stand up and head over to the entrance for payment.” the man wanted to get out without paying, but he thought it better to just head home and immediately book an hair transplant appointment, before his big presentation on Monday.

In the cab home he looked at the floor of the car, while he kept feeling the baldness of his head, finally letting out a meek “what the fuck…”. At home he called 7 transplant clinics, but none of them were available for Sunday, with the earliest one being available four months from then. He thought of shaving it all off, but before he did, he searched up the shop once more, it turned out the shop was using quite outdated hardware, with the controlling AI model being notoriously buggy and a pain to deal with. Michael was tired, but before he went to sleep he ordered some Clippers, shaving cream and Razors on Amazon, since they would arrive tomorrow he still had the chance to look presentable with a full bald head instead of the male pattern baldness cut he was currently rocking.

Sunday came and went, and it was time for his big presentation, the items he ordered however had never arrived, an error in the drones' softwares caused several delayed packages, inclduing his. He chose instead to just wear an old hat, hoping nobody would ask him to take it off. He sat down in the meeting room, central seat, the one he was so excited to be sitting on just a few days ago had become his most dreaded moment, his boss asked him what was the deal with the hat, in truth everyone in that room was quite curious about Mike’s sudden change in behavior, that wasn’t the long haired hot-shot they were used to, but a meek guy almost trembling in his chair. Some thought he was sick while others figured he was having performance anxiety, he tried dodging their questions multiple times, but in the end was cordially asked to remove it by his boss to remove it. As the hat came off everyone stood in silence, dumbfounded about this odd choice of hair, what was he thinking after all? Friday he’s got a ponytail and Monday he’s balding? The silence remained until the presentation was about to start, Michael was worrying intensely about what will happen in just a few minutes and sweating profusely at everything that just happened. But just a few second before the presentation he took a deep breath and regained his confidence. The presentation went smoothly, the Norwegians were a bit surprised to see a balding man speaking as they were expecting a young twenty-three years old guy, nevertheless they didn’t make a comment about it.

Months passed, and Michael was still receiving all the best projects, his deal with the Norwegians went through and was a huge success, despite this, his hairstyle had not changed, the older executives would call him “Old Man Mike”, and had taken a liking to him, bringing him out for drinks and mocking his odd hairstyle, all of them had a full head of hair despite being much older than him after all, the businessman didn’t mind, he thought that perhaps this look was just what he’d always needed, and to think he got it just because a machine couldn’t do his job properly! Soon he became really intimate with another executive, Ethan, he was a really sweet guy and had really taken a liking to Mike after what everyone called “The Norwegian Cut Incident”, being the first to offer to have a drink with him after work. For the older guy’s birthday Michael took him to a place that after everything that happened ended up being really special to him. “Welcome, please take a seat at station number two”.

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Stronger together

---

<<Part 1

Part 2 to 'Don't make me choose'

Pairing: Miguel o'hara x reader

Word count: 800

Tags: @itzmeme @miatjie @juneonhoth

---

You slumped against a broken metal shelter on some roof. The world glowing around you with a goulish green hue as faint sirens haunted the far distance. Earth-42 wasn’t paradise, it was the opposite, without a guardian in this realm, crime was raging and rampant.

But this was where you tracked Miles to last before the little red dot that kept tab on him faded. Now you were stranded, not sure of how any of this could help in preventing what was to come. Instead you were hungry, tired, soaked wet by the rain and there was no other alternative to survive here. The battle within your mind was that, you only knew one number by heart.

Tapping the device in your hands as you thought through the outcome, you took the jump, to make the call and waited as it beeped searching for a connection. You prepared your mind in that moment, for the possibility that he wasn’t going to pick up or that he would deem you deserved this to confidently abandon you here as a form of punishment.

Two beeps in, the line was active, his voice cracking through as he called your name repeatedly, his tone soaked with worry.

“Can you hear me?”, the line stabilized and you held the device close to you, as though it was an extension of him.

“Are you al-alright?”, the connection was a bit sketchy as he asked you but before you could respond,

“Yes.”, you said desperately.

“Are you hurt?”, he bombarded you with questions, without waiting to hear your reply and it only made it more clearer that he had been trying to search for you without a clue as to where you had vanished. In the state you were in, it cut loose within you everything you had held back, when you were out here thinking of the worst, he was there desperate to get you back.

“Where are you?”, he continued.

“I’m sorry.”, was all that you could utter before you broke down into sobs.

“I’m sorry, Miguel. I was foolish.”, you rambled only to hear silence from the other end.

“Hey.”, he interrupted you, his voice tender and soft.

“I was at fault too.”, he sighed.

“I lost sight of us and our pledge to carry the responsibility of being a hero, succumbing to the fear of the past “, he explained, not a hint of anger in his voice.

“Where are you?”, he asked again.

“I’ll come get you.”, he said it with a sweetness that you realized when you were longing to get back home, you were just wanting to get back to him.

“Earth-42.”, you answered and there was a pique in interest as he mumbled.

“Earth-42? How did you track him there?”, he asked, you could practically hear the gears turn in his head as he tried to connect everything together.

“The transporter maps us to our universe based on our spider bite.”, you began to explain but he jumped in following your train of thought.

“and he was bit by an anomaly which in turns masks his genetic makeup when scanned.”, he finished your sentence and you couldn’t help but smile. He understood the way you worked and that could not be replaced with anyone else.

“Clever as always.”, he remarked but you could sense the smile with which he said it.

“My power is running down and I don’t know how long I can stay put here, this world is –

The whizz of the dimension portal startled you as it opened near where you were and in the pouring rain your heart skipped a beat as you saw his silhouette step out, his head moving from side to side as he scouted for you.

He called for you and you didn’t wait, springing up from where you hid to run to him.

You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tight that he huffed bracing your impact. But the moment he felt your warmth, he held you close, placing his cheek on the top of your head, not worried about the rain or anything else.

“Te extrañé.”, he spoke into your ear.

“You're not angry with me?”, you mumbled into his chest to hear the soft reverb of his laugh.

“We’ve got to help him, Miguel.”, you said slowly and he nodded taking in the state of the world around, he brushed away the strands of hair that stuck to your face. He was making it clear now, that you ranked higher than those worries.

“I can’t stay mad at you for long.”, he tilted your chin up to see him and when your eyes locked, you knew that wherever you stood, with him, it was paradise. Even on earth-42.

“We’ll figure it out together.”, he gave you a knowing smile.

“Like we always do.”, he held your gaze, as if that was the core rule his universe operated on.

You were certain you would find a way to save Miles’s father, because when you and Miguel stood together, nothing could stand in your way.

“Now let’s go home.”, his hand slipped to yours and you wrapped your fingers around his.

[mystwrites]

Sneak Attack!

Summary: Douma notices Akaza looking upset after overhearing he got yelled at by Muzan and Kokushibo said some backhanded things to him. Deciding to cheer him up, Douma launches a sneaky tickle attack on his “best friend”

A/N: Day 13 of Tickletober! Enjoy another lazy drawing. Douma be looking kinda funky in my eyes but I was too lazy to fix him😂

It wasn’t unusual to see Akaza upset whenever he was called to the Infinity Castle. Douma and the others never failed to see him frowning or glaring at them anytime they met up. On this particular night however, Akaza was in a rather snappy mood, giving Daki some attitude and telling Gyutaro to fuck off when he asked what his problem was. Knowing Gyokko and Hantengu possibly knew what was making Akaza so angry, he decided to ask Upper Moons Four and Five.

“Eeeiiiyyy!! Douma!! Akaza was mad because Muzan sama yelled at him!” Hantengu cried, shivering behind Gyokko.

“It’s apparently because he still hasn’t located that stupid flower. None of us have and we all should be receiving the same punishment if you are to ask me.” Gyokko replied, shaking his head. “And you didn’t hear this from me, but when Akaza tried to suggest that the reason he couldn’t find it could be due to our inability to walk in the sun, Kokushibo sama ended up giving him a backhanded compliment that hurt Akaza dono dearly.”

It all made sense now. Douma knew Akaza was always acting tough, but the reason he did so was to hide how sensitive he actually was and how he was always seeking to please his superiors. A frown appeared on Douma’s face, deciding he wanted to try and cheer Akaza up since the treatment his superiors were giving him was unfair.

“I see.” Douma said, standing up and bowing. “Thank you Hantengu, Gyokko. I owe you for this.”

“Yeah, you owe us some tasty meals…” Gyokko muttered as he watched Upper Moon Two walk off.

As Douma walked off, he searched every room in the Infinity Castle for Akaza. After a while of searching, he found Akaza standing alone on a platform, simply staring off into space, his eyes unfocused but showing anger. What a pity it would be to anger him by deciding to bombard him with questions.

To Douma, nothing cheered up a demon than a playful tickle so he snuck up on Akaza, his fingers wiggling and his tiptoes as silent as a predator sneaking up on it’s prey. By the time he was directly behind Akaza, he smirked and was aware Akaza didn’t even comprehend another presence behind him.

“Surprise, Akaza dono!!” Douma shouted, his fingers grabbing Akaza’s sides and squeezing. “You seem upset so Tickle Demon Douma is here to cheer you up!”

Akaza let out a startled cry before the laughter eventually overtook him, his right hand grabbing Douma’s wrist and the other clamping down tightly to prevent the offending hands from going any higher. A series of curses and begs for Douma to stop escaped as his laughter grew, Akaza’s knees buckling upon feeling a squeeze under his ribs and fell to the floor, Douma following him down.

“Oop! And down we go!!” Douma laughed, continuing his tickle attack as he grabbed Akaza and pulled him close, holding him tightly against his chest.

Fingers flew all over his body, one minute squeezing his waist, then somehow worming their way under Akaza’s arms. Laughing harder by the second, Akaza threw a punch at Douma but wasn’t able to land a single blow. Kicking didn’t help either since Douma decided to squeeze at his thighs, the kicking coming to an end after Douma’s thumbs drilled into the center of his inner thighs.

“S-stohohop!! Ahahahaha!! Ohoh gohohosh ahahaha! Dohohouma!!!” Akaza cried, weakly shoving at Douma’s hands which were tightly clamped onto his thighs. “Why ahahare you tihihickling mehehe you ahahasshole?!?”

“Why am I tickling you? Because you looked upset and I heard Muzan sama blamed you again for not finding his stupid flower.” Douma replied, reaching down to try and tickle Akaza’s feet, giving up when a powerful kick nearly kicked his hand right off.

“Ihihit wahahasn’t my fahahault!!” Akaza whined, screaming as Douma tickled under his arms. “S-stop!! Stop! Stohohop!! Ahaha!! You ahahare pissihihing mehehe off!!”

“If you really wanted me to stop, you would’ve stopped me by now, Akaza dono.” Douma sang, tickling up and down Akaza’s sides. “Normally you let me know when you’ve had enough by kicking my stomach but you’re not doing that right now. I think you and I both know you need this distraction, especially after Kokushibo dono said hurtful words to you.”

“WHOHO TOHOHOLD YOU THAHAT?!?” Akaza cried, shocked to know that Douma knew what happened.

“Gyokko and Hantengu have all the details. They know what goes on around here, Akaza dono. That’s how I found out.” Douma replied, grinning as he held Akaza in his lap, tickling up and down his sides and laughing along as Akaza threw his head back, leaning on his shoulder. “Do not fear, Akaza dono! I know how to bring that smile to your face!”

“W-WHAAA?!?” Akaza squawked, shocked to know that the two gossipers seemed to know everything that was happening. “Ihihi swehehear Ihihi ahaham gohohonna kihihill thehem ahahand you!”

More threats were spewed out but eventually, Akaza stopped threatening and resorted to squirming so much that Douma lost his grip. Now on the floor, Akaza attempted to roll away only for Douma to grab his ankles and pull him back towards him, curses and threats escaping as Douma’s hands found his sides.

There was no real heat to Akaza’s words throughout the entire time Douma started tickling him. He was just upset about the incidents earlier and was startled by the sudden tickle attack. If anything, it seemed that Akaza was actually in need of this and decided to submit to Douma’s tickles, something that pleased Douma to say the least. He normally would keep fighting until he couldn’t but he gave up rather quickly, going limp after a few seconds of nonstop tickling.

Now curled up on the floor, Akaza screamed and laughed, Douma’s cold hands grabbing his ankles and straightening him out, holding his arms out to the side. Without hesitation, Douma pulled his arms up over his head and tickled Akaza’s armpits, the loud, hysterical yet adorable laughter from the striped demon bringing a fond and genuine smile to Douma’s face. Releasing Akaza’s arms, Douma tickled up and down his friend’s ribs, bringing out more of the bright giggles he always loved hearing. Akaza no longer fighting, resorted to squirming and flailing out of pure instinct, too ticklish to keep himself still.

Smiling, Douma paused to give Akaza a break. The demon gasped and coughed, relieved that the tickling had stopped briefly. He looked at Douma, his eyes only widening as he noticed those rainbow eyes eyeing out his stomach. Akaza knew what Douma was thinking, having received raspberries many time before.

“D-Douma…Douma don’t you fucking dare!!” Akaza growled, his face trying to remain angry but clearly failing as a wobbly smile appeared. “NO!! YOU ARE GOING TO FUCKING DIE!!”

Douma put his finger to Akaza’s lips, telling him to stop talking. Glaring at the blonde, Akaza opened his mouth to bite his fingers but quickly threw his head back as Douma clawed at his stomach, easily rendering him defenseless.

“Don’t make threats to me! I am your superior after all and I’m trying to be nice to you!” Douma growled playfully, making Akaza scream as he squeezed just below his ribs. “And don’t bite me!”

“IHIHI’LL BIHIHITE YOUR HAHAHAND OHOFF!! I SWE-AAAHAHAHAA!! STOP!! STOHOHOP!!” Akaza shouted, trying to shove Douma off of him, slowly growing weaker as Douma’s relentless tickles continued.

“Oh I’m not stopping.” Douma sang, his fingers crawling up Akaza’s sides, digging into each space between his ribs. “I’m trying to cheer you up and I won’t stop until I know you’re truly happy, Akaza dono!”

Pressing his full body weight onto Akaza to stop him from flailing like crazy, Douma skittered his fingers up to Akaza’s armpits, giggling as Akaza screamed loudly. Unable to escape, Akaza slowly grew weaker and weaker, submitting himself to Douma’s weird technique of cheering him up. Gasping as the tickling stopped, Akaza was about to sit up and glare at Douma but fell backwards once again, letting out a scream as lips were pressed against his bellybutton, a loud raspberry being blown.

Douma smiled, giggling as he pressed his lips to Akaza’s torso once more, blowing raspberry after raspberry over his entire stomach. He was well aware that this technique could potentially be crossing the line but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was able to tickle Akaza as well as cheer him up. Akaza soon fell silent, laughing so hard he couldn’t make anymore sounds. Douma giggled, his fingers gently scratching up and down his ribs.

“STOP!! D-DOHOUMA!! P-PLEHEHEASE!!” Akaza begged, his voice now weak from how hard he laughed. “PLEHEHEASE STOHOHOP!! IHIHI’M FEHEHEELING BEHEHETTER NOW!!”

“Are you? Or are you just saying that so I’ll stop tickling you?” Douma asked, his cheek resting on Akaza’s stomach while his fingers gently traced shapes along his sides.

“Ihihi’m seheherious!! NONONO!! AHAHAHAHA!! PLEHEHEASE!!” Akaza pleaded, weakly shoving Douma’s head away as he blew more raspberries on his stomach once more.

“Last one, I promise!” Douma said, grabbing Akaza’s wrists, smiling as he watched the muscles in his arms flex. “Last one for good measures!”

“Ugh!! I can’t stop you…fine…” Akaza grumbled, laughing as Douma blew as hard as he could onto his stomach, his head shaking to add more to the already ticklish sensations. “STAAAHAHAHAP!!”

Douma laughed, giving Akaza’s stomach a pat and helped his friend up, giving him a hug, expecting Akaza to punch him or shove him away violently, but the violent actions never came. Relieved, Douma let go and was about to walk away but was stopped by Akaza.

“T-thanks…I guess.” Akaza muttered, looking away.

“For what?” Douma asked.

“For cheering me up…or doing your best to do so since you lack emotional understanding.” he replied, suddenly grabbing Douma’s wrist and using his martial arts skills to flip the demon onto his back.

Hitting the floor, Douma gasped, the wind suddenly knocked out of him. Unable to process what happened, he suddenly squeaked as Akaza quickly sat on his waist.

“Ooh! Akaza dono! What’s gotten into you-OUUUUHUHU!! AHAHA!! OH NOHO!! OKAHAHAY!! OKAY!!” he cried, laughing hysterically the instant Akaza simply touched his waist.

“Jeez! I didn’t do anything to you yet!” Akaza laughed, an evil grin forming on his face. “This is payback for your little sneak attack bullshit!”

[klausinamarink]

In Thunder, Lightning, Or In Rain

rating: M | cw: major character death, mild gore | tags: witch Steve, necromancy, rituals, brief appearance of possessive Steve | wc: 992

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | Dec 20: Magic au

Despite the roar of thunder above him, Steve continued his trek into the woods. He stomped hard onto the still-fresh footprints of the crowd that had passed here. Beneath his boots, the ground smothered and turned the new trail into golden-red flecks of ember, floating towards the town by the growing winds.

The willow trees wept to Steve, their leaves brushing across his raised shoulders and wet cheeks. We tried to stop them. We heard his cries but we had done nothing. One older willow stopped him for a moment’s notice, pleading for his mercy. I offered shelter for you and your beloved but they burned my fingers when I reached out.

Steve forgave them all. You made your attempts but do not harm yourselves, he told them. The older willow tree wept again and let him go.

Lightning flashed in the sky. Steve sparsely caught his reflection on the bubbling creek. He looked disheveled. His hair was tangled in different directions, his clothes looked baggy, tears stained his cheeks, and his hands were already from gripping the shovel and ax for so long.

The creek with its minnows and newts lamented for him. We tried to stop them. We tried to drown them but they shoved his head into us. Our waters have always been refreshing to both of you so we couldn’t end him, even in his suffering.

Steve forgave them all. You were always kind and accommodating to us so do not poison your waters with your suffering, he told them and continued on his way.

As he reached the end of the trail, where the embers under his boots stopped burning at the tainted clearing, thunder and lightning embraced each other at once. Then it began to rain. Thick droplets landed on the new grave, twisting the torn up ground awake. They wailed to him.

They’ve hurt him. They hurt us. We tried to stop. But their feet trampled on us and spilled his blood like it was their precious alcohol. They’ve violated the grounds of your loving embraces into this.

Steve forgave them all. Please do not hurt yourselves, but take your revenge on anyone who trespassed here, he told them. The ruined ground wailed again, their cries going silent as Steve started digging.

They haven’t buried him too deep. When Steve saw why, his anger turned the thunder deafening.

They had cut Eddie’s body apart. His bloodied head was placed under his arm, which was missing a hand. His torso had chunks of flesh missing and was only attached to his legs by a single intestine. His feet looked like they had been broken by a hammer.

Steve kept his tears secure in his eyes, careful not to spill them onto Eddie’s remains as he tenderly lifted him out. Once his body was found whole, Steve wrapped him around a quilt like he was tucking in a child for a long journey.

Underneath his knees, the ground wailed again and turned angry, rolling down to the south. Steve stood up and picked up the ax again. The ground was already sinking a blond man, whom Steve recognized at once.

“Witch!” Jason Carver spat, his hair drenched on his forehead, “Release me and face punishment.”

Steve shed exactly three drops of tears as he raised the ax above him.

To revive a soul is to sacrifice a soul, no matter how good or wicked either may be.

—

In his secure and well-hidden covered wagon, Steve worked feverishly in the dark. He shook not with the cold, but with grief and exhaustion. He had rushed back to the town once the winds carried Dustin’s panicked news of the accusations against Eddie for suspected murder and witchcraft. But even though his return failed to prevent Eddie’s fate, Steve refused to let his beloved rot from such injustice.

The storm rattled on, contempt in his aid.

He finished the stitching, cutting the thread with his grandmother’s golden scissors. Then he took the moon-crescent silver knife and carved it into his left side. Steve focused onto the rapid plattering of the rain as the blade touched his sixth rib bone. Once the rib was cut, Steve dragged the knife so it slit easily through his flesh, allowing the bone to come out.

He gently placed his rob bone in Eddie’s hands, positioned to be crossed over his chest, right above where his heart would start again.

Steve lit the candles. Two on both sides of Eddie’s head and seven at his feet. Representing the two lives his lover will now have and the seven realms that gifted magic at every witch’s fingertips.

Steve placed his hands firmly on top of Eddie’s still chest. He sucked in a deep breath and, after hours of containment, finally screamed out his anguish.

In between the short pauses for air, Steve thought of every memory he had with Eddie. Their first run-in at the market, Eddie’s musical flirting, Steve growing a sunflower in between their cupped hands, their first lovemaking, and the very last kiss Eddie had given him when Steve had left.

The flames of the candles grew brighter and taller. Steve could no longer hear the thunder. His horrible cries filled the wagon more. He tasted the salt of tears as they fell onto Eddie’s unmoving face.

An ice-cold breeze passed through Steve’s body, silencing him. He dared not to look up, for no one knows what their own death would look like, even to the Foresights. He kept his eyes on Eddie, watching and waiting for the first sign of life.

A small light-blue wisp fled through Eddie’s lips. Then his eyes shot open, coughing and gasping for air. His chest finally heaved underneath Steve’s hands, though he only removed once he felt the confident heart beat.

As Steve held Eddie close and tight, thanking for his lover’s second chance, he Swore to him to never let Eddie escape his sight again.

[thesupremeuziplushy]

J x MD!Reader - One push

Reader is GN

Warning, this is heavy angst. Might do a alternate happy ending one for this. TW: implied death, torture, not proof-read.

J’s arm shakes, the gun aimed directly at your head. No matter what she did, it wouldn’t move from its place, and neither would she. Heaving and sweating, all doubts she ever had run around in a whirlwind in her mind, scrambling her thoughts and messing with her programming. And yet through the chaos, her thoughts would always return to you. You, whom she loves with all her heart. The wounded you in front of her, knocking on death’s door.

J never hesitated. Never with a kill. Obeying the company, she’d kill any worker drones that crossed her path and punish all signs of deviancy in her team.So what happens if you’re the deviant?

In J’s head, you’ve betrayed the company. You’ve disobeyed their orders and questioned their intentions. You’re defective, like the workers. And the best course of action is to put you out to prevent you from wanting to harm the humans.

But in J's heart? You betrayed her. Stabbed the knife into her back and twisted and turned it at her most vulnerable state. Even if you never intended to hurt her, she was caught in the crossfire. And despite that, you continued, dragging the knife deeper down her back, watching her bleed. She thought seeing you bleed would make this easier. After all, she was only doing what you did to her, right?

Broken and shattered, there you lay in front of her, unable to move or regenerate. And yet you still managed to look up to her with pleading eyes. And still unmoving, J faces the consequence of her blinded rage. She didn't know whether saving you was even possible, and for a second she feared herself. Maybe, you would have been better off without her from the beginning. If she hadn't cared, you wouldn't be lying here.

"What are you waiting for?" Your once soft voice that would always calm J's nerves only added to her stress. "Do you want a goodbye kiss?"

Yes, is what she wanted to say. Pick you up and beg for anyone to help, even a worker. Anything to keep you alive and with her.

"Do what you have to do. I won't hate you for it." You smile meekly. "I could never."

"Yes, you do!" J couldn't belive that she'd still find her voice. "You hate me. Otherwise you would have never betrayed me." While her voice managed to keep her anger at bay, the feeling kept rising, slowly reaching it's limits. Her hand no longer shacking.

There she stood, on the edge. And all it needed was one push.

"J..." You muster any strength you have left to look up at her. "I love you"

And there was the push.

[loveandmurders]

Helloooo, I was wondering if I could request Sinclair sister who struggles with SH?

Hello love, thank you for this request <3 

I really hope you’re doing well and if you need to talk about anything, you can send me a message. Never stay alone if you feel like you’re struggling <3

This request is the most personnal thing I ever wrote on this blog because I did hurt myself for quite a while, and still do sometimes. This is also my darkest post over here. 

Not too sure if I love or hate this work (it had been very hard to write and readproof it before posting), but I still hope you’ll enjoy this in a way that’ll bring you some comfort. <3

And if you needed a sign to stop hurting yourself or not commit suicide today/tonight, this is it.

LET ALL THE ANGER AND HATRED OUT

Warnings: self harming (pulling you hair, bad position, scratching and cuting yourself), self hatred, insecurities, shame, suicidal thoughts, mentions of mental illness, mention of torturing and killing people (the twins’ solution to your SH isn’t a good one but you can’t except more from slashers)

You started to hurt yourself when you were a child.

At first, it was pulling at your hair or taking deliberately positions that would quickly be uncomfortable or hurtful. Thankfully Vincent was always there to stop you pulling at your hair, and Bo was finding way too much comfort in your presence so you always ended up on his lap or close by, that way he was unknowingly preventing you from hurting yourself. And when Lester was noticing how silent you were - which often meant you were going to hurt yourself - he would cheer you up and sleep with you, at night, to look after you.

When you became a teenage girl, you started to understand that you were actually hurting yourself. As a child, it was a subconscious defence mechanism, but as you grew up you realised what you were doing. And if you stopped pulling at your hair and taking bad positions - mostly because you started to enjoy your hair and because you wanted to have a healthy body (so your dad wouldn’t give you some made up painkillers you didn’t know the side effects of), you started to hurt yourself in other ways.

At first, you started to scratch your skin with your nails until you bled. As you continued to grow up in this very toxic family, you started to use a knife or a razor blade on your inner thighs and arms. You always did your best to tend your wounds afterwards, mostly because you didn’t want your brothers to find out. You knew they already had a lot to handle, and you loved to be able to bring them comfort, and not even more burden.

Plus, you felt awful, weak and pathetic afterwards. The more you hurt yourself and the more you hated yourself. It was a vicious circle but you just couldn’t help. It was like a drug. You felt so much better when you were punishing yourself, it felt like you were alive too. But once you were done, you would look at what you did; and you would feel empty sometimes, or you would start crying. Either way, you would mechanically go have a shower and try to patch everything up and burn anything with blood on so no one could know.

You were always putting on long enough sleeves too, because you were ashamed.

More than once you thought about killing yourself too, but you never did for your brothers. You knew how much they loved you, adored you, cherished you. You knew how Bo was always freaking out when you were out of his line of vision, how Vincent always kept an eye on you, how Lester was always looking at you when he made a joke to be sure you were laughing at it. 

So you didn’t commit suicide - to not break your brothers even more than they already were - but you continued to hurt yourself, even in your adulthood. There were better days, better weeks, better months than others. But there were also very dark times. Your lows were awfully low. If you brothers knew you could sometimes feel depressed and unhappy, no matter how much you would always try to hide it behind a smile, they never thought you were using blades against yourself. They always thought they would notice - but they probably were blind by their own insanity and mental illness. They couldn’t imagine that their joyful beloved baby sister could hate herself. How could she when she was the ray of sunshine in their life? When she was the only thing worth living for, even in this bloody and unhappy mess?

It was so easy for you to hurt yourself when you lived in your own flat, you didn’t even have to hide the bloody bandages anymore. But when you agreed to live with your brothers again, a sane part of yourself hoped this would help, hope you would feel better, or hope that the boys would notice something. The bigger part of yourself thought that if you had been able to hide it your whole childhood, you could continue doing it.

But the boys grew up too, they weren’t just angry, vulnerable, violent, desperate, broken teenagers. They were adults who used their own suffering and insanity to find prey, to kill them, to turn them into the main attraction of the town. They also spent several years without seeing you every day, so their eyes on you were more lucid. And if their love for you never wavered, it turned more protective and possessive with time.

That was how Vincent started to notice that some days you seemed to be hiding your arms, or that you were trying to not flinch when Bo would innocently grab you to show you something or have you sit down for a family dinner. He also noticed how long you could stay in the bathroom for a simple shower. Vincent learnt to observe and to stalk people as he grew up, and even though he hated to do anything that could make you feel uncomfortable, he couldn’t let anything happen to you.

He knew something was wrong. 

That day, after lunch, Bo went back to his garage, Lester left for an errand, and you went upstairs for a shower. Vincent stayed in the kitchen, and looked at the clock. 

It was over an hour your were in the bathroom now. 

Deadly silent in there too. 

His instinct was screaming at him to open the door separating the two of you, but he couldn’t do that, so he waited for you right behind it. 

You gasped when you opened the door and found him there, quite surprised and deep inside, a little bit panicked. You still smiled at him “You scared me” you chuckled even though you didn’t understand what he was doing there. You kept the towel you used to stop the bleeding closer to your chest so Vincent wouldn’t see it. You tried to move past him but he blocked you and you frowned.

“What, Vinny?” you asked

Why so long? He signed and your heart dropped. No one ever asked you this, and you didn’t think anyone would notice because the boys were always so busy with everything. When you were a teen, your parents would kick your arse if they heard the water running for too long, but they wouldn’t care otherwise. When you were a teen, Bo was too busy screaming, Vinny being in his own world and Lester trying to get his mother’s attention.

You shrugged “Just did a hair mask, took me longer… Why? Are you checking how long I stay in the bathroom now? It’s kinda creepy, Vince” you replied with a smile, trying to embarrass him so he would leave you alone, but he could see past your lies and noticed how your smile wasn’t reaching your eyes.

You good? What’s going on? He insisted and you bit on your bottom lip.

“Look I don’t know what you’re imagining…” you said as your brother reached for you and you accidentally let the towel fall. You didn’t even look at it, because you knew Vincent would see the blood on it. You looked away actually, feeling so ashamed. Vincent picked the towel up and for an instant he was simply speechless.

He hadn’t known what you were doing in the bathroom, but hurting yourself to the point of making yourself bleed was clearly not what he had imagined. He had thought that maybe you were staring at yourself and hating yourself and insulting yourself, like he often did. But hurting yourself... like that? 

He let the towel go and very carefully and gently he grabbed your arm and he lifted the sleeve up. The sight of the bandages turned his stomach up and down. He had no idea what to do. His heart was breaking. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed before either. He should have been smarter for your own sake.

He brought you against his chest and hugged you. You had to resist the urge to cry as you hugged him back.

“I’m fine, Vinny, I’m fine, I swear. I’m sorry about the towel, I’ll go buy a new one” you babbled, as if Vincent was caring about anything else but you. He remembered the hair pulling when you were a kid and he hated how he never thought it could have turned into something worse. “Vinny, please don’t tell Bo” you pleaded. “Or Lester. Please. I’ll stop, I promise” you begged him.

I’m sorry we haven’t noticed before. I’m sorry you never talked to us about it. Vincent replied as he cupped your face. You know we love you more than anything. Tell me what we can do to make this stop. He continued and you started to cry as you shook your head.

“I’m fine. You all have enough to handle with, I don’t want to be a burden. My skin regenerates well, if I put some cream on every morning and night, it’ll be all good soon.” you replied. You didn’t add that you had become quite good at hiding any marks with jewels or clothes.

In your state you hadn’t heard Bo coming inside the house. Vincent did, and even if he understood you wanted to keep this a secret, he needed Bo to watch over you too. Bo heard the two of you talking upstairs so he joined in. He saw the tears dripping down your face and in two big steps he was there, hugging you. He didn’t know what was going on, but he never was able to stand the sight of you crying.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked and you felt like you were going to cry even more. You didn’t answer, and as he was about to ask Vincent, he saw the bloody towel on the ground.

“Are ya hurt?” he instantly asked and he started to check on you with worried gestures and eyes. You gently pushed him away because you felt like you couldn’t breathe. But he didn’t let you do, he brought you closer before freezing when he saw the bandages. With what happened to his wrists, he understood right away. And it felt like a punch in his stomach. His baby sister had been hurting herself all those years and he hadn’t noticed? Like Vincent, guilt instantly creeped inside of him. As your big brothers, their job was to protect you and to make sure you were happy. How could they have failed so badly without realising it? Like Vincent, he hugged you, completely speechless, and you cried even more before pushing the two of them from you.

“This needs to stop” Bo sternly said because he had no idea how to handle the situation, and emotions weren’t his strong suit. You let out a dry laugh that broke their hearts even more.

“Ya think I don’t know that, ya think I’m feelin’ good? It’s been weeks I haven’t needed to, but today I just couldn’t stop. I should’ve been better at work and I haven’t been super nice with Lester yesterday, so I needed to do this. That’s all. I mean we’re all fucked up, so yes I’m hurtin’ myself since I’m a kid, but it’s fine, I survived so far.”

“Love…”

“Ya want to know how bad I can feel? Sometimes I fuckin’ dream I could hurt myself bad enough it would kill me.” The twins’ eyes widened and they both reached for you with pure fear and concern written all over their faces. They couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, and hearing those words coming from your mouth was ripping their hearts from their chests. “But if I never did, it’s because I knew I’d kill ya too. Honestly ya saved me more than once, but I need to hurt myself to feel somethin’, or when I’m angry at myself, or when I feel guilty or stupid or pathetic, or when I’m tired or when I’m feelin’ too lonely.” you explained, and it felt good to be able to say it out loud for the first time in your life.

Your brothers hugged you, lost for words. They both were thinking fast because they couldn’t let you continue hurting yourself like that. After a few instant, something very natural came to them. They just exchanged a look before guiding you to your room, so you could sit on your bed. Vincent sat next to you, stroking your back, as Bo knelt in front of you and he cupped your face in his hands.

“Listen to me, love.” he started and you looked down at him as he stroked your cheeks. “Ya need to let all your anger, your hatred and sufferin’ out, but ya can’t do it on yourself no more. Ya’re important, ya’re loved, and ya’re safe with us. We should’ve seen what ya were doin’ to yourself a long time ago, but now this will change, do ya hear me?”

“How?” you asked as you softly sniffed

“By hurtin’, torturin’ and killin’ people who aren’t ya. I promise ya’ll feel better and we’ll make sure that nothing can happen to ya. Ya know the special room I have in my garage that I never let ya see? There is a chair there, and I’ll tie up anyone ya’d like so ya’d let out everythin’ bad you have inside of ya unto them. How does that sound?”

“I don’t know, Bo…” you weren’t sure you were able to hurt someone else other than yourself. You had never been a bully, and you weren’t a killer.

“Let’s try, love, even just once, okay?” Bo insisted so you looked up at Vincent who nodded. You thought about it for a few moments before nodding and both the twins relaxed. They really hoped it would help like it “helped” them. They also promised themselves to keep a very close eye on you, because you were far too important for them.

And everyday they reminded you that:

You are loved.

You are not alone.

You are important.

You are safe.

You deserve better.

Taglist:

@feathery-ass

@g0thl3zz

@erasable-mustache  

@cavern-creature

@peachycupotea  

[thequietkid-moonie]

Sweet S/O gets a cruel punishment

[ ONE-SHOT ] [ Nagito Komaeda ] [ Danganronpa 2 Goodbye Despair ]

⚠️ This contain a little bit of spoilers

This was requested by @sleepyone2three, thank you for requesting it!! The version of the other characters requested you can find it in the masterlist

Im so sorry!! Im a really simp for Nagito and I think i expressed it pretty well here, still I did my best and I really hope you enjoy it

It hurt me write this but at the same time i enjoy it like you have no idea 😭😭

The trip to that strange island was pretty weird, and still almost everyone seemed to don't care much about it and just want to enjoy it. Nagito being one of those who doesn't seem to care much, he knows that the island is kinda suspicious but he doesn't say much about it, just happy that his lucky give him the opportunity to enjoy of this trip with his amazing classmates, and more important, you, his beloved partner, the hope of his life

When Monokuma revealed his plan to everyone Nagito doesn't take it too bad, maybe blaming his bad luck but aside from that he just stays cheerful, saying that everyone will find a way to get out of there and with your own positivity helps others to stay positive and don't freak out immediatly, winning hope and motivation to continue

The first days, even when everyone were wary of the situation most of them were willing to work together, specially since Twogami take the role of the leader. However you know Nagito really well to know that he was acting different but he deny it anytime you ask him about it (also, he was more focused on your well-being as normally and he wasn't causing troubles yet, so you shouldn't worry so much)

But then the first trial came, everyone were really nervous since the party was supoused to prevent this but still everything become a mess in a second, mixed between investigate and don't fully believe what were happening you tried to cheer everyone to find the culprit, to don't let Twogami's death be in vain

Is probably you already suspect that this was by Nagito's hand but still when he revealed that he was the one who planned all the killing was pretty shocking. It has to be Hajime and you the ones calming everyone down and make them think clear before voting by anger towards him and condemning everyone

Nagito hated seeing you so worried about him but he has to continue to help you bring hope to everyone, he was planning to properly apologize to you for all what he has done after the trial but being attacked and chained stoped him from doing so

When the news of what they did to Nagito reached you you weren't happy, but as much you find their conduct reprehensible you understand why they are doing it, so you do your best to convince them to let him free, promising to personaly watch over him so he won't do anything bad again, and they accept it (a little hesitant but at least you will be able to free him from the chains)

Once you went where he was kept locked up he received you with his normal self depracating attitude, but just as always you treat him with nothing but love and sweetness, even after almost killing someone and making everyone fear him, even after making you worried sick of him possibly truly being the culprit you still greet him with a smile and even take time to ask him how he was. He apologize to you for everything he did, even calling him rude names but you just respond with your usual sweetness, scolding him for doing such thing but still don't leaving him alone, you even go as far and take care fo him, making sure the chains didn't hurt him, making him company while he take breakfast and making sure him propertly rest, even making sure that this time he do it in bed

Just as you promised you were making sure that Nagito doesn't plan anything weird and deal with others when they don't want to directly talk to him out of fear or anger (what he totally understand), or even defending him when you feel like others are just being unfair or overreacting about him (specially when the second trial come)

You don't let anyone opinion affect you nor even make you doubt him, not the rest of your classmates, not him, not even Monokuma have managed to make you doubt or lose hope and that is something Nagito admire and love, your unbrekable hope is giving him hope too, this is the hope he is searching for and he is sure that, even when you are stuck with him you still bring hope to others, you are the one who can truly make everyone bright with a beautiful hope and that is why he decided to just follow you and look after you, he doesn't has to try and give them a little push because you are the one giving them hope, he just need to help you, to be with you

However the killing game were just getting more and more difficult, with Monokuma bringing out new incentives and hints of things that just confuse everyone, just like the Future Fundation or the posibility of a traitor between them, and the more resent incentive were a problematic one

The despair disease is one that change the personality of the affected, turning them into someone completely different in some way, and unfortunately you were one of those affected, making you lose that sweet smile of yours that always decorated your lips or that soft eyes that could calm anyone, making you hold an annoyed expression like if you were mad for just even been there. That morning you greeted Nagito with an annoyed expression and just passing from him, like if talking to him were a waste of time and even when he think that of himself you never treated him like that before, you even scold him for treating himself like that

Everyone was surprised because some of them were acting really weird, and of course your change didn't went unoticed, your usual sweet words were vanished and replaced for bad comments and insults

In this case could be that Nagito were infected too, and since he is just lying and just doesn't shut up someone will have to separate the two of you before you start to fight with him for being so annoying and for being insulting you. However if is the case that he isn't infected he is really shocked about your change, and, as much as he believes that he deserve to be treaten like that he knows you will never do it, did someone did something to make you change? Did HE did something that made you mad? or is the work of Monokuma?

After Monokuma explained that all of this is an incentive and Mikan offering to take care of everyone, she took all the affected to the hospital but you take another road not really wanting to follow them and Nagito followed you, he wanted to make sure you were alright (even if he says the contrary), but right now he weren't doing anything aside from annoying you, you had even screamed at him, calling him a creppy and asking to leave you alone but Nagito just can't, he was growing desperate, where it goes his sweet partner? the one who had took care of him and loved him? The one that was full of hope?

But non of his questions will be answered because Monokuma came to you two, teasingly he ask what you where doing, weren't you supposed to be in the hospital? But right now you couldn't care less about that, not when Monokuma was finishing with the little patience you had behind, reaching your limit you end up screaming and hitting him with all the anger you have

If Nagito were fully in his senses he will tried to help you, and even when he tries his luck didn't helped him this time because you fate was marked when you threw that blow, Monokuma was annoyed by your actions but at the same time were happy to finally get out of the problem you are, so with all the excitement in the world he remember you the rules and before you could even say something he attacked you mercilessly, laughing while he just leave your body fall to the floor to wait the death

Nagito was devastaded, he wanted to help you but even when you were bleeding you still were angry, pushing him away even calling him usless, and he just accept it, Nagito just sit there watching you die in pain because he can't do anything, all your harsh words repeat in his head again and again like a broken record but this time he is starting to believe that he deserve it, he deserve to recive that threat from you because he is so usless that he can't even save you

Nagito blame himself for your death, he fully believes that it was because his bad luck, and even when he says to everyone that all of you just have to continue deep down the memory of you being rude is hunting him down, it doesn't let him alone when he is awake and when he is asleep. Nagito desperately wants to remember the sweet and hopeful you, but your annoyed and angry expression remember him that he doesn't deserve to be treated kindly

[just-horrible-things]

‘Verse: Box Boy Universe Story: A Girl Called Spider Timeline: A ways into Rayce’s training

Crate [Prev | Next]

It doesn't take the full hour to satisfy Divya's anger, even though her injured hand continues to throb as an insistent reminder. Her trainee is a sweat-drenched, squirming mess. He's lost his voice from screaming. 

He's paying for his decision, and it soothes the bitter blaze of anger back to calm. 

She doesn't feel bad about venting. It's best to get the anger out now, in the first phase of punishment while it's appropriate. This is meant to be the Pet’s rock bottom, the nightmare he'll look back on and do anything to avoid in future. 

The next step is teaching him the lessons she foolishly let him convince her he'd already learned. And for that she needs to be calm, and he needs to be back on planet earth. 

But right now, after a less than optimal night, what she needs is more coffee. She catches the newest junior in the hall, and hands off responsibility to him for the time being.

Not that he's really a junior, he has four years of experience in… Romantics, if she recalls correctly? But he's new to S Wing, and that means reduced responsibility while they find out if he's a good fit for the somewhat less by-the-books environment. 

With his help she flips the trainee onto his front so that he's less likely to choke if he throws up again. They change the ring gag for a rubber bit – keeping a stick between his teeth to prevent biting during the changeover – so that he can drink. The ring comes away with blood on the stainless steel.

The Pet manages a few sips of water, sucked from a cloth. Only a little of it is dribbled onto the table. Divya helps the new guy double check all the straps. Then she takes her coffee break, confident that her trainee will be monitored while she’s gone.

She meets up with Rory just after ten as promised. Rory's brought a wire dog crate – and not a large one. You could probably get the animal confiscated for keeping anything bigger than a terrier in there. 

"I love these," Rory says. "Set them off the ground and any mess they make falls through, keeps them from breathing it or lying in it. And if you get the size right they don't have enough room to struggle and hurt themselves."

It takes a small team to fold the sobbing Pet into the crate. Sure enough, when he’s curled tightly over his knees his back very nearly touches the mesh at the top, and the sides keep his elbows close to his ribs.

Rory uses the straps round the top of the trainee’s calves to pull his knees wide, making plenty of room for his forehead to rest against the mesh between them. The straps fasten off to the sides of the crate. Wrists and elbows get secured to the front and top so that his arms pin his head in place. Ankles are secured on a short strap to the back edge. Once fully trussed up, there really aren’t a lot of ways for him to hurt himself. 

Then they heft the cage onto a pair of tables, one under each edge, and secure it firmly to both. 

"With a sober Dog I'd call this safe," Rory says, "but with this many pharms in the mix, I still want him checked every fifteen minutes. And give him fifty to a hundred mils of water each time, he's sweating like crazy. We can move to half-hourly as he starts to come down."

Divya takes responsibility for most of the check-ups. She is his primary, after all. And it's not a complex task. Check pulse, check that no part of him is going blue. Mostly just lay eyes on him and make sure he's not choking or seizing or dead. 

The Pet they pull from the crate at the end of the day is a boneless mannequin. He mewls a little as his knees drag across the mesh, as his compressed joints uncurl. Then he's quiet again, limp in Rory's arms.

"Isn't that an improvement." Rory's voice is soft, but he's not really talking to the dazed, empty-eyed Pet. "I think you're ready to be good now, don't you?" No response. The snitch’s mouth is slack around the rubber bit. "Divya, come sit with him. Remind him that he can be good."

"He's filthy," Hannah interjects, disgusted on Divya's behalf. "That's what the coveralls are for," Divya points out. "It's good for him to be disgusting right now. He'll beg me for a shower tomorrow."

It takes two to carry the trainee, despite the weight he's lost. The Guard Dog handlers are used to that. They sling him between them like a sack of potatoes, and Divya follows them to the lounge room.

It’s a white-walled training room much like the rest, but made up as a sparse stage set imitation of a lounge. There's a plush rug on the floor, where good Pets get to kneel instead of on the cold, hard tiles. There's a couch for the handlers – and for Romantics when they're invited, a coffee table, and little else – besides the screen set into the wall where a TV might be, protected by a plate of toughened glass. 

Divya sits on the couch, and her trainee is dumped into her lap. Rory grins at her, clearly pleased with himself. "I hope you're up for some overtime," he says, "I think your trainee needs some attention while he's nice and well-behaved." "I agree."

"I've asked Hertz to take over for the night shift – hand over to him when you're done here. I don't want the trainee sleeping tonight, but if it's gentle we should be able to get him back to the land of the living tomorrow. Then we can work on comprehension. Sound good?" "Sounds good." He tosses a bottle of water to her, and she only barely remembers not to try and catch. "I'll give you two some privacy then. Have a good night." “And you.”

Divya looks down at the Pet in her lap. He’s awake. If she waves her hand above him, his eyes track the motion. But other than that, he might as well be unconscious. He doesn't look at her, only through her. 

"You're going to be good now," she tells him, with the warmth of total confidence. He has no other option. "All you have to do is take what you're given. All you have to do is not fight me. It's as easy as that."

She runs her fingers through the greasy mess of his hair. No reaction. He's elsewhere, gone out of his head. That's fine, it suits their purposes right now. It makes him good.

"Good boy," she murmurs, cupping the side of his face. "Drink." He can't help but obey. "Good boy. You can be good, can't you now. Just lie still for me."

Slowly, gently, minimising the inevitable pain of touching his inflamed skin, she pets his neck. Then his chest, his arms, his stomach. It’s the same touch exercise he normally struggles so much with, just this time in slow motion and with him sprawled bonelessly across her lap.

He's still as a doll, and silent. The closest he comes to flinching is shivering lightly under Divya’s palms. Even when she fondles his crotch, he doesn't react in the slightest.

"Good," she tells him, over and over. "That's good. It's so easy, isn't it? So much easier than fighting. All you have to do is take what you're given."

Despite the touch, despite all the pain he’s still feeling, the Pet begins to fall asleep.

Divya is delighted. They agreed on no sleep, but this is entirely different. This is ideal, relief and reward paired with submission to his handler’s control and surrender of his boundaries. This is more important than the deprivation.

Besides, she won't let him have long. 

She keeps the touch continuous while he sleeps, roaming methodically up and down across his body. As boredom – and tiredness – start to set in, she moves one hand from the Pet to her phone and finds something to read while her other hand continues to move over his skin.

Every so often he twitches a little, dreaming.

Perhaps she loses track of time, because when Hertz eventually sticks a head round the door to check if everything’s okay, it’s almost ten o’ clock at night.

"Very much so," Divya replies. "But it is about time he woke up.” A yawn overtakes her, and she stifles it behind her phone. “... and I should really get home. Thanks for taking him," she adds, pushing the trainee off her lap. He falls limply in a pile of limbs. The hoarse, muffled sound of his startle comes two seconds after the impact with the floor. "I know sleep watch is tedious work." "Are you kidding?” Hertz returns. “It's a chance to put my feet up! I barely have to do a thing all shift. Favourite job, especially at night. " Divya laughs. "Each to their own. Have a good night, then."

She knows she will. She’ll sleep soundly tonight.

[Next]

[littleshiz]

Eng: I would like to tell you a little about Valtor in my fanfiction.

Do you remember the end of the third season? How stupidly did Valtor win? I love and adore this villain and often resented that he was so stupidly leaked.

So I came up with my own version of fighting him and how he was defeated!

I called the war with him the "Fiery Month". Although the war lasted 1.5 years)

After being released from Omega, he almost killed Trix, as they strongly resembled his mothers... But he decided to use the witches for his own purposes.

He was motivated by hatred. Hatred of their mothers, creators. Self-loathing that he can't disconnect from them, do what he wants, not them.

In this state, he destroyed many planets and kingdoms. Some were able to recover, but... Unfortunately, many people died.

Alphea, the Red Fountain, the Cloud Tower fell under his power. Winx, the specialists and their allies created a resistance unit, where the best of the best were. But few people had any hope, especially Bloom.

At some point, the Trix escaped from Valtor, not wanting to die by his hand in another fit of anger, where he communicates with his creators. (They often talked to him, humiliated him, and the like).

Only Icy and Stormy continued their atrocities, but Darcy... She decided to help. I decided to tell you at what point it would be better to grab the magician and win.

The great blacksmith Hagen created special shackles that close the magic inside the wearer, preventing him from casting spells.

The resistance squad managed it. Bloom was the one who shackled Valtor, and then the nearest warriors knocked out the magician, since he was conscious and could still hurt someone.

Princess Bloom (the current queen of Domino and Eraklion), wanted to kill the magician, but could not. Not because she was afraid to kill someone, but because Valtor is immortal. He is recovering quickly. Even if you cut off his head, he will survive. It will recover.

Valtor was placed in the most guarded prison on the planet. To the Punishment Cell. There, the prisoners are in a small room all the time. They are being watched by five or six of the best warriors, who, if anything, will be able to stop the rebels. The prisoners are monitored 24/7, and no one will ever be able to escape from there.

At the moment, Valtor, almost thirty years in prison, is going crazy because of the voices of mothers. They hate him, they say that they should have killed him, not created a Dragon out of Fire. It was necessary to take his life while it could still be done.

What will happen next? Something interesting, because Valtor is not alone in the Punishment Cell... He has an older half-brother who has been there much longer than the younger one...

The older half-brother is the native child of Belladonna (the witch of the dark cold, sort of). His name is Albert and he is... Much crazier than the youngest, but, unlike him, does not suffer from the voices of his mother and "dear" aunts.

I hope you enjoyed a little digression into this story ^^

Русский: Хотела бы немного рассказать о Валтора в своём фанфике.

Помните окончание третьего сезона? Как глупо победили Валтора? Я люблю, обожаю этого злодея и часто негодовала, что его так глупо слили.

Поэтому я придумала свою версию борьбы с ним и как его победили!

Войну с ним я назвала "Огненный месяц". Хотя длилась война 1,5 года)

После освобождения из Оме��и, он чуть не убил Трикс, так как те сильно напоминали его матерей... Но он решил использовать ведьм в своих целях.

Им двигала ненависть. Ненависть к своим матерям, создательницам. Ненависть к самому себе, что он не может отсоединиться от них, делать то, что он сам хочет, а не они.

В таком состоянии он уничтожил множество планет и королевст. Какие-то смогли восстановиться, но... К сожалению, множество людей погибло.

Алфея, Красный Фонтан, Облачная башня пали под его силой. Винкс, специалисты и их союзники создали отряд сопротивления, где были лучшие из лучших. Но надежды мало у кого оставал��сь, особенно у Блум.

В какой-то момент Трикс сбежали от Валтора, не желая умереть от его руки в очередном приступе гнева, где он общается со своими создательницами. (Они часто с ним говорили, унижали и тому подобное).

Только вот Айси и Сторми продолжили свои злодеяния, но Дарси... Она решила помочь. Решила рассказать, в какой момент будет лучше схватить мага и победить.

Великий кузнец Хаген создал специальные кандалы, которые закрывают магию внутри носителя, не давая ему колдовать.

Отряд сопротивления справился. Блум была той, кто сковал в кандалы Валтора, а после ближайшие воины вырубили мага, так как он был в сознании и до сих пор мог кому-нибудь навредить.

Принцесса Блум (нынешняя королева Домино и Эраклиона), хотела убить мага, но не смогла. Не потому, что она боялась убить кого-то, а потому что Валтор бессмертен. Он быстро восстанавливается. Даже если отрубить ему голову, он выживет. Восстановится.

Валтора поместили в самую охраняемую тюрьму-планету. В Карцер. Там заключённые находятся в маленькой комнате всё своё время. За ними следят по пять-шесть лучших воинов, которые, в случае чего, смогут остановить бунтовщиков. За заключёнными следят 24/7, от туда никто и никогда не сможет сбежать.

В данный момент, Валтор, почти тридцать лет заключения, сходит с ума из-за голосов матерей. Они ненавидят его, говорят, что надо было убить его, не создавать из Огня Дракона. Надо было лишить его жизни, пока это ещё можно было сделать.

Что будет дальше? Кое-что интересное, ведь Валтор заключён в Карцере не один... У него есть старший сводный брат, который сидит там куда дольше младшего...

Старший сводный брат является родным ребёнком Белладонны (ведьма тёмного холода, вроде). Его зовут Альберт и он... Куда безумнее младшего, но, в отличае от него, не страдает от голосов матери и "дорогих" тётушек.

Надеюсь, вам понравился небольшой экскурс в данную историю ^^

[queercontrarian]

i’m sorry

“You cannot expect the Spring Court to keep groveling at your feet for the rest of eternity,” Yllka scoffed, staring down each High Lord individually, glaring especially hard at the factions of the Solar Courts, “Why do we still have to beg forgiveness for sins we have not committed and hope for your goodwill when people in the Seasons are dying?” The desperation in his second’s voice had Tamlin’s fists clench helplessly. He hated these meetings, and he hated the role his Court was forced into when they had been fighting so hard to rebuild. It was Rhysand who finally spoke up.

“Honestly, begging for forgiveness is the least you could do. The Mother knows your High Lord still owes us quite a few apologies,” the male drawled, his voice cold and even. He didn’t think anyone else except maybe Feyre or his brothers could hear the barely repressed anger, the wound as fresh and painful as ever just below the surface. It might have been useful to be able to read a rival so reliably, but mostly it just hurt. Not quite strangers, not quite enemies. Oh, he knew exactly what the male was referring to. Nearly four centuries had passed since the murder of their families, but every time they found themselves near each other it felt like it happened yesterday. History that could never heal, no matter how much time passed. Rhysand would forever punish his people for Tamlin’s mistakes and he was so over it, he was so tired. Too tired to care anymore despite still caring way too much. Yllka, Eallair and all the others could work as hard as they wanted, he could remove himself as much from the Spring Court as he wanted to, Rhysand wouldn’t get over his hatred for Tamlin enough to not spite innocent Spring fae, to separate him from his folk, from his friends, his officials, even Lucien who hadn’t visited him without an order from Night to do so in years. He could feel the anger and disappointment well up in him, the urge to smack some sense into the other male, or even just smack him for the sake of it. To get Tamlin to lose his composure would be exactly what Rhysand wanted. And unfortunately, in this moment it was exactly what Tamlin wanted too.

“Oh, well if it’s an apology you’re after,” he snarled, stepping in front of Yllka “Have your apology: I’m sorry you ever approached me in the first place.” Cassian and Azriel rose at the same time Rhysand did when he made another step into the circle of fae, towards the other High Lord. It was barely a threat, not under Thesan’s roof. The magic prevented any real fighting to occur and would put any who sought to do physical harm down quickly. Rhysand, knowing this too, bid his brothers to stand down. 

“I’m sorry you continued to pursue me despite everyone telling you it was a terrible idea. I’m sorry our fathers were the worst males to ever walk this cursed continent and I’m sorry we dared to become friends anyway. I’m sorry for understanding you, I’m sorry for wanting to keep you around. I’m sorry you believe only what you want to believe.” Tamlin saw Lucien move in from the side, but he couldn’t stop himself from stalking towards the Night Court seats, pulled by the same invisible thread that had Rhysand moving to him. “I’m sorry you made choices you regret and I’m sorry other people paid the price for our actions. I’m sorry I didn’t run fast enough. I’m sorry my brothers found me and dragged me back to Harthforst gagged and bound.” His voice hitched, his claws rapidly breaking out and retracting at the memory he’d tried so hard to repress. Rhysand just stood, mere feet away from him, and stared, unable or unwilling to say anything. All the better, since Tamlin couldn’t stop himself from continuing, and if he was getting louder, if everyone in Dawn heard, if by the next day all of Prythian knew his pathetic story, well his image had been ruined for a long time anyway. “I’m sorry my father chained me up in his cursed cellar, torturing me for days, and I’m sorry I held out until my mother came back. I’m sorry she was so selfish to not want her son to die at the hands of his father, I’m sorry she told my father everything I knew. I’m sorry I followed them to Illyria as soon as I could stand, I’m sorry for tracking them down, I’m sorry for killing your sister before my brothers could do worse to her than just take her wings.” His gaze was clear, glued to his face, and for a moment it felt like it was only them in the room. “I’m sorry I left my dagger behind for you to find, so you’d know who did it. I’m sorry for getting locked in my room because I wouldn’t stop screaming until I couldn’t anymore. I’m sorry you didn’t kill me when you had the chance.” Tamlin leant in closer, their noses nearly touching, green and violet eyes locking when he whispered “I’m sorry I loved you and I’m sorry you loved me back.” 

[gamerbearmira]

Coma AU part 2

Isabela had been an inconsolable mess of tears ever since the accident. She ran to her room the second she finally processed what happened and she when she felt Abuela grab her arm she panicked. Her upper arm was bruised horribly, the red ring of fingerprints wrapped around her made her shake. It was only a matter of time before she opened that door and she had to face what she had done.

The image of her baby sister's tear-stained, fearful face haunted her every time she closed her eyes. She didn’t mean to. She really didn’t. She panicked. Mirabel had all that stuff packed, and she was about to walk out the door, she didn’t know what else to do. At first, all she was going to do was use her vines to grab her and pull her back, but she just snapped. She just blacked out. She didn't mean to do all that, but when she heard Abuela scream, she instinctively retracted her vines. Every time Abuela screamed at her, her first instinct was to immediately stop what she was doing, and turn all her attention to Abuela, or she’d get in even more trouble.

She only wanted to stop her, she never meant for all that other stuff to happen. She doesn’t even remember half of what happened, she blacked out when her vines reached Mirabel.

Isabela release one more loud, ugly wail, the kind that would make Abuela look at her in disgust. She was truly sorry. Sorry for everything.

Isabela’s door creaked open, revealing an eerily silent Abuela, who was radiating fury. Isabela shot up from her bed and stood. Abuela’s face was neutral, with her anger just barely concealed. She looked Isabela down and started walking towards her. Isabela wracked with worry and terror, began begging. “I’m so sorry, Abuela! I didn’t mean to! I just meant to grab her, and-and, I don’t know, I just blacked out. I have no excuse, I am so sorry. Is she okay? Is she awake?” By the time she was done with her rambling, Abuela was standing in front of her, looking at her with a cold, angered expression. Isabela shrunk under her gaze and curled in on herself. “I’m so sorry, Mirabel.”

Isabela cried and never looked up. “Do you know what you have done?” Abuela's voice was calm but harsh, cutting through the tense air. “Do you know the damage you have done to your sister?” Isabela remained quiet. “Do you understand how hurt your sister is right now? You could have killed her!” Still she was silent. Isabela didn’t dare look up at her grandmother. She knew what she had was unforgivable.

“You will be punished accordingly. Your courtship with Mariano will continue, but you are forbidden from using your powers unless I specifically say so. You are confined to the walls of Casita, and until Mirabel wakes up you are to stay away from her, to prevent any more of these ‘blackouts.’”

Isabela continued to spew apologies. She sank to the floor after her knees gave out. She wailed so loud Abuela recoiled in disgust. “You have no right to cry! Your sister is in her bed with a shattered arm and collarbone, fighting for her life!” Isabela stopped and looked up at her grandmother with wide red eyes. “What?”

Abuela sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Mirabel is in a coma. Because of the injury to her head, she will be unconscious for the unforeseen further. Your mother is unable to heal her.” Isabela cried out her sister's name and clenched her stomach. She was horrible. A terrible sister. She didn’t deserve Mirabel. She had been nothing but mean and catty towards her. Jealousy blinded her.

Abuela scowled at her oldest grandchild, and rage overtook her. She reared her hand back and brought it down hard on Isabela’s cheek, knocking her to the ground. Isabela yelped in shock and looked up at her grandmother in shock, her hand held on the red mark on her cheek.

“You have no right to shed tears. Your sister could die and it will be all your fault! You’re lucky your mother wasn’t there to see what you did. They think she fell from the roof, and as far as they know it will remain that way.”

Isabela just stared at the old woman in shock and horror. She… lied? She lied to mama? “Why? Why would you do that? Why would you lie?”

“To save you and prevent more stress on your mother. What would the town think if they found you were the cause of your sister's near fatal injury. You would be shunned, ostracized. Our family's reputation will be shot. Your reputation will never be the same. I am doing this for our family. The least you can do after the trouble you’ve caused is be silent and follow orders.”

Isabela could only just stare. This was wrong. So wrong. “But what about Mirabel? When she wakes up, she’ll tell the truth. We need to tell mama.” Abuela shot her a harsh look, “you will stay silent about this. Mirabel won’t say a word. I will handle that,l. You won’t breathe a word of this to anyone or so help me, Isabela.”

Isabela shuddered in fear. She wanted to say no and run out the door and tell the truth to the whole family, but she knew just by the way Abuela was looking at her, it was better for her to stay silent. Her cheek still stung from the slap. “Yes, Abuela.”

Nodded and started her way back to the door, but stopped l. “Isabela. Don’t disappoint me.” And with that she was gone. Isabela sat on the floor, her hand on her cheek. This is wrong. This was so wrong. She stared at the door and silently cried.

She wishes she had run away with Mirabel when she had the chance.

NO...NO BOTH OF YOU ARE IN THE WRONG DAWG...

Like for one. Why tf is Alma not properly handling it. Idgaf how good or bad your reputation is, I GUARANTEE it can't be as important as the health and wellbeing of a family member. Like. Please fess up. It worse when you try and hide the wrong that you did, because it finally comes to light, everyones like. You lied. And then tried to cover it up. And then Isabella your telling me she can't stand up this old woman. Like what is gonna do??? She's two wrong steps away from going into cardiac arrest GO CONFESS ALREADY

Its like a lawsuit waiting to happen ,💀

[leuchtstabrebell]

Whumptober Day 4 / Prompt: Shock

It did not rain often in Mos Espa. Some years it did not rain at all.

But Anakin remembers how he could feel a coming storm in his bones, remembers the sweet metallic taste in the air before a thunderstorm. When the storms came, they rained down on Tatooine with a mighty, violent force that seemed to shake the world itself. His mother used to say that it was a cause for celebration because the storm made them all equal. Even the masters could not rule over lightning and thunder.

The smell of ozone used to mean reckoning.

It doesn’t anymore.

Palpatine does not use force lightning often to punish Vader – after all, the machinery keeping him alive is vulnerable to that sort of thing, and it is so bothersome to have to keep replacing fried circuits and broken parts. However, he has no such concerns about torturing Luke or Leia with it. So of course, when Anakin tells them about the mighty storms, about the sacred rains, about the sublime sight of lightning striking the earth, they look at him with disbelief and even some sort of envy. He can’t bare it. Instead, he tells his children other stories from his childhood, about silent defiance, about chain-breakers and cruel masters, and of course they understand those much better. He never tells them that on Tatooine, children born to a free mother are also free. It feels too much like mockery.

Anakin doesn’t know what it was this time – a failed mission, suboptimal performance in training or simply perceived disobedience but in the end, it doesn’t really matter. If Sidious wants to hurt them, he will find a reason, and there is little that could prevent him from doing so. When the twins were small, Anakin used to be able to redirect some of his master’s ire. He hasn’t done that in a long time, hasn’t even seen them much in the past three years. They’ve become adults while Palpatine sent Vader through the Galaxy to do his bidding. They’re fifteen already. Stars, they’re only fifteen. Vader had begged and pleaded to see his children for a few days and Palpatine had finally relented, which means that this time, he is there to witness the aftermath of Palpatine’s increased cruelty. Fifteen is old enough to bear the pain with dignity, after all.

When Luke comes stumbling in, Leia draped over his shoulder and struggling to support them both, he rushes to their side instantly. At first, he thinks it must have only been her this time. She is whimpering in pain, and her muscles keep spasming and she can’t really walk. Then he sees the fine tremors still running through his son, the sweat on his brow, and he feels a deep and horrible ache and anger dwell. He pushes it down. It is neither the time nor the place.

“Sit down Luke,” he rumbles, taking Leia from her brother and placing her carefully on the floor, her back leaning against the wall. Her muscles are still contracting but she is conscious. There are no burns, there never are if Palpatine doesn’t want them to be there, and with Leia and Luke being semi-public figures he cannot afford too many obvious injuries.

“Is your shoulder dislocated again?” Luke asks, sitting down carefully beside her. His breath is still labored, and he seems to occasionally suppress sounds of pain but other than that, he seems, well, not fine, but at least not badly injured. Vader is so focused on watching them that the words only register a few moments later. He didn’t even know that she had been electrocuted that badly the last time. They must have dealt with it themselves. It makes sense – there is no use in whining, and you should never let your Master hear you complain. Lessons he taught them well.

Leia has closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the white wall, while her body continues to move painfully in small spasms. Still, she looks almost nonchalant.

“Father, could you get me that book I left laying on the table this morning?” Luke asks, with pained boredom in his voice. Anakin recognizes that tone far too well, and for a moment he looks at his children, shaking on the floor and he cannot move. The moment passes. He leaves to bring Luke that book.