#from them now only makes me feel miserable because i was suffering horrors and was literally right about everything and also nothing has

[pepprs]

it’s actually fucking stupid that journaling actually makes me worse now. like what the hell else am i supposed to do

[elliespuns]

Quiet the Winter Harbor

Summary: After Ellie experienced horrors beyond her comprehension and was forced to do what was necessary, it completely broke her. Not knowing whether he was still alive or not, she slowly started to lose all hope of seeing Joel ever again. Terrified, helpless, and lost—that's how he found her when he appeared and took some of her pain away.

Pairing: Ellie & Joel, father-daughter

Wordcount: 1.5k

Tags/Warnings: canonverse, angst, comfort, fluff, found family, platonic relationship, father-daughter, soft Joel, baby girl Ellie, Joel POV, Ellie POV

Note: This one-shot of a 'story' is based on the actual TLOU game events; on a scene where Ellie kills David and Joel comes to take her away. Ellie & Joel mean so much to me. Writing them into fluffy scenarios will always make me happy. Hope this silly little 'scene' can make you happy too.

Rushing away from the burning building that's slowly tumbling down as the flames lick the air, Joel's arm is wrapped around the little girl's petite back as he's leading her away from the danger. She's trembling. She would never thought that she'd ever go through something like this. Ellie has killed people before, but this? This was different. He was trying to—was he? He definitely was. She keeps replaying the last few moments before her eyes, sobbing softly. She had to do it. She had no choice. She didn't want any of this to happen. Yet it still did, and it absolutely broke her.

The young girl who needs him right now is falling apart right next to him, and he has no idea what to do or what to say. The man Joel wishes to torture to death was trying to hurt her in ways no girl should ever experience. She's so young, innocent and fragile. There are no right words to empathise with something like this.

Instead of opening his mouth to say something that would only make her feel worse, he just gives her shoulder a gentle, loving squeeze with his hand and pulls her closer to him as the tears keep running down her freckles and leaving salty taste on her lips.

She's quiet. He is too. He feels miserable. If only if got there sooner. The anger, the frustration, the helplessness that suffocates him knowing he can't turn back the time to do something, and her little, quiet sniffs are not making this any easier on him. All Joel wants to do is to bring that motherfucker back to life, only to torture him and make him suffer in an agonizing way. Make him experience evil—evils that he had the nerve to put Ellie through.

And even after all this, he still can't believe what a brave and courageous kid she is. Hell of a fighter. He had never seen so much strength in a person before, let alone in a little girl.

When he arrived at the scene and he witnessed what she has done to the man, he knew that he would've done exactly the same thing. Except she's a kid. She shouldn't know what this feels like. Having her clinging to him tighly as she cried, embracing her, he finally realized that she must have gone out of her way to save his life. In that moment, he regretted everything he said to her back at the farm house and from this moment on, he decided to make his life's mission to dedicate his all this kid.

He should do something. Say something. He owes her so much. If it weren't for her, he wouldn't have been here right now. Feeling helpless, with nothing but love inside his heart for her right now, he can't take this deafening silence any longer. He stops and crouches down in front of her, putting them at eye-lever with one another. The freezing, snowy path sends an icy cold feeling through his entire body as soon as his knee hits the ground and his hands reach for hers, having her lift her red, puffy eyes on him. "Listen, Ellie. I er… I have no idea what to say because, honestly, there is nothing I can say or do to take away what you've just gone through." He says softly, his voice deep but full of endearment and understanding as he caresses the knuckles on her fists with his thumbs, warming her extremely cold hands.

"Joel, I don't wanna—" She sobs, her words stuck in her throat, her teeth chattering from the cold.

"You don't have to say anything. Just know that I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for everything. For every damn mean thing I said to you. I didn't mean any of it." He says, regretting the harsh words that left his mouth at the farmhouse before everything went down so fast and he has come to realize that he hurt her. "You deserve so much more." He assures her, his huge palms covering her fists.

"Joel, can we just—"

"No, listen. Listen, Ellie…" He stops her by cupping her wet, icy cheeks that are somehow burning up, wiping her tears away with his calloused thumbs as her sad, pained eyes peer into his and her lower lip quivers. "You are the bravest fucking kid, do you understand?" He says, his voice trembling as if he's on the verge of crying himself. "And you saved my life. No one else would care enough to take so many risks to do that for someone like me." He adds and smiles, his cold hands sticking to her cheeks as he's refusing to let go. "And you still did. You matter, okay? You matter to me. I should've never left your side and—"

It's when his words are cut short as the frail girl in front of him throws herself his way and wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his jacket and weepeing softly. "I was so scared, Joel. I was so fucking scared that I lost you." She mumbles into his neck, searching for comfort in the smell of his shirt and coat.

It was as if his heart stopped beating for a second the moment she clung to him. His arms are suddenly taking on a life of their own when they instinctively wrap around her and pull her closer before one of his hands comes up to caress the back of her head as she keeps sobbing, leaving wet traces of her tears in the crook of his neck.

They never embraced each other like this before. Freezing on the cold ground, Joel's knee that's buried deep in the snow to keep his balance steady for her starts getting numb. But he doesn't mind. He doesn't care. It's the warmth of her heart that's softly beating through her chest right against his as they keep hugging tightly, quietly, and affectionately. If it weren't for the howling of the wind, he could have sworn he heard it too.

This girl means everything to him. How did this happen? He has no idea. But he curses himself for all the time he made her life a living hell by constantly rejecting her charming, beamy, and at times, ridiculously goofy personality. She might be the best thing that has ever happened to him after Sarah, and all he has ever done till now was be an asshole. Now he's going to do better with her.

Carefully breaking the embrace, he cups her cheek again. "You don't ever need to feel like you have to talk to me about what happened there, okay? Just remember… if there's ever going to be a day when you feel like laying all this burden out on me, don't hesitate." He pays her a smile. A smile so warm and full of love it made her heart flutter.

She's devastated after all that happened, but this? This smile on his face? Smile that he never gave her before? Smile that says, 'You'll never be alone ever again.' She can't help but nod and crack a tiny smile too, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her jacket. "Okay." She sniffs, her voice trembling as she's doing her best not to cry anymore. She doesn't know how, but Joel is making her feel better. He wouldn't take away the horrors she's still replying in her mind over and over again, but it means a lot. She's never thought that one day this stranger of a man would be someone that she deeply cares about. Someone whose love would mean the world to her.

"Okay, kiddo. I don't want to spoil the emotional moment we have here, but… you're going to need to help your old man." He chuckles, trying to loosen up the tension by using humor—the one thing he knows always wins with Ellie. "I think my knee got stuck to the ground, and I also can't feel it anymore."

Ellie smiles and wipes her nose with the back of her hand before she reaches for his. "You're such a dumbass." She shakes her head and lets a few little giggles out, helping him on his feet.

Slapping the snow and filth off his jeans, he reaches behind him to grab something that appears to look like Ellie's backpack. "Here. I believe you have a few valuable things in this thing." He hands it to her, watching her eyes beam at the sight of her pack that she thought she'd never see again.

"You might be old and helpless sometimes, but you're not totally worthless." She jokes, grinning at him before she flings the pack over her shoulder.

"There she is." Joel chuckles and is head over heels for his baby girl's smile, which he thought he had lost too.

The end.

Author's note: This is not an actual attempt at a fic or a story that has a continuation. This is just a silly little one-shot I wrote for myself, and the nice people here helped me overcome my fear of oversharing my privacy, so I finally posted some of it. If anyone else already wrote fics based on this scene, just know that I got inspired by the scene itself, not by any of the stories related to it. Anyway, I hope it's not that terrible, and keep in mind that English is not my mother language. Typos are possible.

[anneangel]

Bilbo's actions with the ring were quite reasonable:

Bilbo almost stopped breathing, and went stiff himself. He was desperate. He must get away, out of this horrible darkness, while he had any strength left. He must fight. He must stab the foul thing, put its eyes out, kill it. It meant to kill him. No, not a fair fight. He was invisible now. Gollum had no sword. Gollum had not actually threatened to kill him, or tried to yet. And he was miserable, alone, lost. A sudden understanding, a pity mixed with horror, welled up in Bilbo’s heart: a glimpse of endless unmarked days without light or hope ofbetterment, hard stone, cold fish, sneaking and whispering. All these thoughts passed in a flash of a second. He trembled. And then quite suddenly in another flash, as if lifted by a new strength and resolve, he leaped. No great leap for a man, but a leap in the dark. Straight over Gollum’s head he jumped, seven feet forward and three in the air; indeed, had he known it, he only just missed cracking his skull on the low arch of the passage. - The Hobbit

Bilbo was able to feel pity for Gollum and put himself in his place.

"Pity? It's 'pity' that stayed Bilbo's hand (...) Pity, and mercy: not to strike without need. (...) And he was well rewarded, Frodo. Notice how he suffered so little from the evil [of the Ring] and escaped in the end, because he began to use the Ring with this. With Pity. (...) and (...) The pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many.” Gandalf said. - LotR

Yes, after, Bilbo decides to disappear like a joke during the party, as a prank, but it is quite justifiable, the people were talking bad about Bilbo, that he was weird and had weird visitors, and still many coveting and gossiping about his money and the comforts he had at Bag End. They made horrible comments about his adopting Frodo too, and about Frodo himself.

It makes sense that Bilbo would want to disappear in front of them, it's symbolic when we want to disappear in front of people who make us feel uncomfortable, people who have spent years calling him 'Mad Bilbo'. It was an expected joke from Bilbo, it was him being ironic! Just as gifts from him were ironic. An example:

For MILO BURROWS, hoping it will be useful, from B.B., on a gold pen and ink-bottle. Milo never answered letters. - LotR

When Bilbo leaves the Ring, he gets angry with Gandalf for a moment and becomes almost aggressive, but see that in the end it is he who OFFERS the ring to Gandalf:

'Well, if you want my ring yourself, say so!' cried Bilbo. 'But you won't get it. I won't give my precious away, I tell you.' His hand strayed to the hilt of his small sword. (…)

(...) Gandalf answered. 'And I am not one either. I am not trying to rob you, but to help you. I wish you would trust me, as you used.' He turned away, and the shadow passed.

(...) He seemed to dwindle again to an old grey man, bent and troubled. Bilbo drew his hand over his eyes. I am sorry,' he said. 'But I felt só queer. And yet it would be a relief in a way not to be bothered with it any more. It has been so growing on my mind lately. Sometimes I have felt it was like an eye looking at me.

'Then trust mine,' said Gandalf. 'It is quite made up. Go away and leave it behind. Stop possessing it. Give it to Frodo, and I will look after him.'

Bilbo stood for a moment tense and undecided. Presently he sighed. 'All right,' he said with an effort.

(...) 'You have still got the ring in your pocket,' said the wizard.

'Well, so I have!' cried Bilbo. 'And my will and all the other documents too. You had better take it and deliver it for me. That will be safest.

''No, don't give the ring to me,' said Gandalf. 'Put it on the mantelpiece. It will be safe enough there, till Frodo comes.

A spasm of anger passed swiftly over the hobbit's face again. Suddenly it gave way to a look of relief and a laugh. 'Well, that's that,' he said. 'Now I'm off!' - LotR

Bilbo was strong enough to overcome his desire for the ring and turn away for it.

And Bilbo almost attacking Frodo in Rivendell upon seeing the Ring? Yes. Right. But, It's Bilbo who asks Frodo to keep the Item:

Bilbo looked quickly at Frodo’s face and passed his hand across his eyes. ‘I understand now,’ he said. ‘Put it away! I am sorry: sorry you have come in for this burden; sorry about everything. - LotR

He acts pretty decent for someone in possession of an evil object. And if he's one to be ironic with his relatives, they provoked him first!

There was a great commotion, and people of all sorts, respectable and unrespectable, were thick round the door, and many were going in and out—not even wiping their feet on the mat, as Bilbo noticed with annoyance. If he was surprised, they were more surprised still. He had arrived back in the middle of an auction! (…) would sell by auction the effects of the late Bilbo Baggins, of Bag-End, Underhill, Hobbiton. (…) most of the things had already been sold, for various prices from next to nothing to old songs (as is not unusual at auctions). Bilbo’s cousins the Sackville-Bagginses were, in fact, busy measuring his rooms to see if their own furniture would fit. In short Bilbo was “Presumed Dead”, and not everybody that said so was sorry to find the presumption wrong. (…) The legal bother, indeed, lasted for years. It was quite a long time before Mr. Baggins was in fact admitted to be alive again. The people who had got specially good bargains at the Sale took a deal of convincing; and in the end to save time Bilbo had to buy back quite a lot of his own furniture. (…) Many of his silver spoons mysteriously disappeared and were never accounted for. Personally he suspected the Sackville-Bagginses. On their side they never admitted that the returned Baggins was genuine, and they were not on friendly terms with Bilbo ever after. (…) he was no longer quite respectable. He was in fact held by all the hobbits of the neighbourhood to be ‘queer’—except by his nephews and nieces on the Took side, but even they were not encouraged in their friendship by their elders. I am sorry to say he did not mind. (…) many shook their heads and touched their foreheads and said “Poor old Baggins!” and few believed any of his tales. - The Hobbit

He had been really lonely the last few years since he had returned from his adventure, or holiday, as liked to call it. A large part of this was due to the fact that he had been definitively rejected from the respectable community, not that he cared that much about it, but was quite a burden to have faced everything he had been through on his adventure there and back again, to be a hero to other folks and peoples, an Elf-Friend, also a friend of dwarves and humans, who rode Eagles and rode barrels in a river (even without knowing how to swim), who spoke to Smaug the Dragon, and still survived a war, returning home to the Shire to receive the treatment of an pariah.

No one really welcomed him with joy, he came back safe and sound, after disappearing for 14 months, and it seemed like everyone preferred him dead. Imagine Bilbo, especially when he sat alone in his armchair in a house too big for a single Hobbit (one who used to like visitors and had lots of pantries and huge rooms that could fit a lot of people and he had a lot of clothes). beautiful to wear and receive them). Possibly the same respectable Hobbits he received as visitors before were the same ones who were not happy to see him return alive. Because they didn't care about him, nor about his feelings or his safety and well-being, they only cared about his money and possessions, envying his comfort and home. And they gossiped about it for years, making him look like "Mad Bilbo", when they were the ones who were petty.

And yet, remember, Bilbo adopted Frodo of his own free will (because Frodo was his favorite cousin, according to the book, it is the others who gossip and invent ulterior motives in a malicious way and this is also in the book), And Bilbo teaches Sam reads, is kind to Gafer, is generous with the poorest families, throws lively parties with lots of food, welcomes Merry and Pippin to Bag End often and gives them enough freedom to see Bilbo things without him knowing. And Bilbo remained friends with the Elves, the Dwarves, the humans (he was friends with Aragorn, "Not all those who wander are lost" was coined by Bilbo in a poem, and has often been used since then to refer to Aragorn), and Gandalf, no matter what his neighbors thought of it or how often they found him and his visits "strange". Bilbo "was happy to the end of his days, which were extraordinarily long" - The Hobbit and LotR.

So yes, Bilbo is incredibly virtuous, even when tempted by the ring.

[angelpink610]

Shadow Work is NOT meant to be easy or comforting;

Guess it’s about time that we talk about this!

This is a reminder to myself and to anyone that might need it—the ones who feel like it’s only bringing them down, that it’s making them feel miserable or bad. Let’s clear up some things.

Feeling down in the moment is the best sign you can receive that IT IS WORKING! Shadow Work is the courage to look at the parts of yourself you despise the most, you fear the most, you are embarrassed of the most. It’s not simply acknowledging that bad things happened to you, it’s experiencing them all over again but now straightening up your back and looking right to its face.

I, myself, also am someone that's still learning about it and have been experiencing hard times throughout it. Sometimes I feel unmotivated and down, also lately I had noticed my sleep was a bit more inconsistent and I have big dark circles. Well, I know that saying this is probably going to scare some people even more away—and I understand the unsettling feelings! But the way that I see it, it’s like anything great in life: takes time, heavy work and some sacrifices.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not sacrificing my entire life because of it. I workout every single day, keep my mind active, go to university, all normal. But some minor sacrifices are the price we pay for lifelong healing. My personal experience’s greatest example of sacrifice is how much emotional energy it actually takes from you. I swear on my word that sometimes when I look at the notebook I use as my Shadow Work journal, I instantly feel kind of “off vibes”, like the energy that it has is unsettling—but, here’s the thing: it is!

The energy that it requires to heal your deepest traumas, pains, griefs, obviously wouldn’t be super light and nice. Your words carry the pain you felt, some that you still feel, the heaviness of its result on your life (maybe years, decades of constant suffering, even); it’s pretty obvious that the notebook that carries them wasn’t gonna be all warm and fuzzy.

It’s not easy, guys. And I know that, at this point, you might’ve already realized that, but I want to remember us all of something: it’s in adversity that we are able to grow. You are capable of living through this healing process, you are capable of surviving the dark before the light, you are capable of facing your monsters and returning with their heads on a stick. But you HAVE TO BELIEVE IT.

Live through the suffering stage of the process like the champion you already know you are. Don’t give up when you suddenly burst into tears during a meditation session where you talked to your younger self. Persist when you have to stop and take deep breaths at every few sentences you write when you are journaling about a traumatic event because it feels like it’s too much. Hold onto it tighter when you live all over again the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.

One last time: I’m not saying it’s easy or simple (in reality, those may be some of the hardest things you’ll ever have to do through your entire life, perhaps). But I do mean it when I say you’ll understand why you had to go through all that once you reach the light on the other side, and your scars will be the forever reminder THAT YOU ARE A SURVIVOR.

The same way a lot of kids are not scared of/don’t see evil in certain horror imageries until they are told that it is scary and choose to follow that thought—we should learn from them as adults and finally understand: monsters are only monsters when we give them the power to haunt us.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for trying to make my best friend and girlfriend's lives better?

I (16M) have extremely powerful magical abilities that allows me to do almost anything. I often use this to do nice things for my best friend (17M) and girlfriend (15F), but as of late I've felt bad about how me using my powers for only minor things like giving them nice gifts have lead to them suffering horribly emotionally when I could help them, especially after an incident where I let someone I love probably get killed because of my girlfriend telling me not to use my powers to save her.

So my best friend also has the same powers I have, but he's been told his whole life, as I was told, that using the powers will make him "lose his soul" and turn into a violent killer. Unfortunately, a relative of his with the same powers did actually snap and kill most of his family, and because of this he is horribly traumatized and afraid to use his powers. But this is all not necessary because I've figured out a loophole where I put all my powers into a scroll so it's not me actually using it and it doesn't affect me, and with this ability I've been using the magic freely without being affected. He doesn't listen to my reassurances and stays miserable and afraid of himself, not doing all the good he could do for himself with his powers, and up until now I've respected that because I understand how traumatized he is. But I've also realized that his girlfriend (17F) is really unhealthy for him and contributing to his self-hatred. When we first met, she tried to kill me just for having powers, and she's hated and been suspicious of me ever since. It must be horrible for his self-esteem to be with someone who is so bigoted she would want to kill people just like him when he already has so many issues with his self-worth, even if she tries to tell him that he's "one of the good ones".

Then there's my girlfriend, who doesn't have the same powers but can see the future. In particular, multiple futures, all of which have a possibility of happening. She's also pretty miserable and anxious all the time because of all the horrors she sees, and trying to fix it all from such a young age. But a lot of the bad futures involve me becoming evil and doing bad things, so she's always watching and criticizing me to make sure I don't do that. Although I sympathize with her, I find it tiring because I wish she would trust me and understand that I have free will, that I shouldn't be punished for things I haven't done yet and I wish we could just live in the moment and be happy together. Plus I feel I've already sufficiently proved that I'm not going to be evil, because I deliberately sacrificed my own powers to put them in the scroll just so I wouldn't lose my soul, even though it meant the powers would no longer be mine and I would be vulnerable. Why isn't that act of love for her enough?

So, the things I tried to do to fix their problems: first of all, I sealed my friend's girlfriend inside a wooden doll, while faking a letter from her to make my friend thing she just left. No, she's not conscious in here, and I didn't kill her (reviving the dead is not allowed with my powers), so I can bring her back any time I want without issue after I figure out how to make sure she stops being a bad influence on him, so this is not the same as murder, it's just trying to make my friend finally happy! And secondly, I gave my girlfriend earrings that would make her only see happy futures, so she would be happy and not miserable with worry for once. I thought what she doesn't know wouldn't hurt her and she really did seem so much happier, but now they've found out about the earrings (they don't know about the wooden doll thing) and they are all telling me that I am evil now and this is the bad future, and I don't get it! I'm not killing anybody, I'm just trying to help them and I've succeeded in making their lives a lot better! But since they are insisting I decided to post here to ask if I was being the asshole.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

“You did not live in a house of horrors. I was raised to believe in hellfire; now that was bad!” Okay and impending global genocide of any culture that disagrees with your beliefs isn’t? Being raised mentally preparing to withstand torture at the hands of police in a “do it to Julia” situation isn’t? Being socially isolated from your peers on the grounds that they’re evil uneducated dumb worldly heathens controlled by Satan isn’t a bad thing? No. Those are all good things which every child should be taught in order to experience “the real life.”

The legitimate truth is that we are all in “the real life” right now and in “the real life,” the Governing Body is doing the very best they can to cover up the fact that they’re a cult by relaxing the cult’s rules in a futile attempt to prevent the prosecution in the numerous ONGOING child sexual abuse cases from handing their non-tight-pants-wearing asses to them. And the other legitimate truth is discovering this fact to be the legitimate truth while having to navigate a sea of lies and high school is extremely traumatizing, especially when you feel the need to take a hard stance against the cult to prevent others’ children — children like you — from befalling the same fate by dressing up as some miserable wretch who cooked and ate children, hoping the way you look and carry yourself and stare into the parents’ eyes will scare them away. And even more traumatizing is that your tactics worked; proving that you are just as bad and scary as your preexisting OCD made you out to be. Yes I did it to myself; but consider the reason why I felt so compelled to sacrifice the entirety of my mental health to sabotage you with what little tools I had. I wouldn’t have done it had I not had a very good reason, and my very good reason was that I was a child who loved children. You were trying to protect me and it was a sacrifice; but I was also trying to protect children. My endeavor is not — and was never — a selfish one. It is not that I don’t care about you; I only prioritize the class which is most oppressed, and you are not a part of it because you are adults. Your feelings, unfortunately, are expendable in my mission to end religious child labor. I will not support your corrupt religion to make you happy when I know what it’s done to others and to myself; it is wrong, and you are wrong for supporting it. I, as a paraprofessional, refuse to support a religion which hides the sexual abuse of children for its own gain. By law I am now a mandatory reporter; I must report child abuse when I see it under penalty of law. Therefore it stands to reason that I must report your cult from the top of every mountain for the entire inhabited earth to hear so they may not even take so much as one step in your direction. I am sorry if I seem like I hate you; if the fact that I reject your ideals of theological expectational fascism disturbs you so much, then maybe you need to re-evaluate your choices.

“Your actions affect others.” I know my actions affect others; I know how they affect others as well. You’re crushed and demoralized and suffering physically from all the emotional stress; I’ve likely dug you both early graves. I know what I’ve done and I can live with it — Not easily — but I am not defeated because I know I’m in the right, and have always been in the right. No. The real question is: Do you know how your actions are affecting others? In exquisite detail? Have you listened to the victims? Have you allowed yourself to hear both sides of the story with your human ears, not ones made of tin and thought-blocking strategies and “I had it worse than you” excuses? No? Then you’d better start because the key to healing yourself is to aid in the healing of others. We are all connected as one body; and I refuse to be a cancer cell. Sorry I’m aiding in your downfall but it’s got to happen at some point.

[dumbermagic]

diakko WIP that i started a year ago and probably will never finish ft. werewolf (?) diana

It was almost morning when Diana threw open the heavy doors of the Cavendish manor and stumbled through the entrance, dragging a mixture of mud and blood inside, no doubt perpetually staining the centuries old tapestry that was probably a gift from some other noble family that she couldn’t recall the name at the moment.

“Anna would be so mad at me right now” she managed to think, letting out a chuckle that rapidly turned into a heavy cough, somehow worsening the dull ache in her muscles and the sharp pain in her shoulder. The pain, combined with her sleep deprivation left the young heiress’ (could she still call herself that?) mental capabilities quite limited, making her ignore the fact that her current physical state would be a way bigger horror to her old maid than some old dusty mat. 

Not that any of this mattered, anyway. Anna was not there anymore. In fact, Diana had been, for the last ten years, the single inhabitant of the manor, resigning herself to a life of solitude after all the other servants left.

After she made them leave.

And her aunt and cousins… She avoided thinking about them, about their fate, since doing so always brought back the painful memories filled with screams and blood splattering on the walls and mangled bodies hitting the floor and Andrew calling her name in panic begging her to stop no no no no NO.

The pain in her shoulder managed to bring Diana before she spiraled completely, reminding her of the damned crossbow bolts that were still lodged in her body. She pulled one out, barking out a string of profanities that would make every single ghost that still resided in the mansion blush, before letting her tired body slump against the wall, exhaustion finally catching up on her. 

She brought up the bolt closer to her face, noting how small it looked against her still furry and clawed hand, snarling to the memory of the smug look on Blackwell’s face when one of his hunters managed to hit her, making her movements more sluggish after a few seconds because of course the bolts were fucking poisoned. Her current affliction made her basically immune to it, but it was still quite a bother, so to speak.

It was a truly miserable situation, but so was almost every moment of her life since that cursed night, ten years ago. Living in reclusion, with no one but the old books in the library to keep her company, forever tormented by all the pain and suffering she caused to those who were close to hear, doomed to wander through the dark halls until the end of her days and-

“Diana?”

That voice, that in any other day would be equated to the most beautiful melody, now filled Diana with dread, cold running down her spine as she trailed her eyes to the figure holding a lit candle, still wearing one of Diana’s old nightgowns and staring at her in shock. Akko stood still, not moving a muscle and, despite all of the feelings that had been growing inside Diana’s chest since the young japanese woman forcibly moved with her a few months ago, she more than ever regretted the day she opened her doors to Atsuko Kagari.

It was… odd, being around someone, especially when you’ve been isolated for so long. At first, Diana thought of Akko as an annoyance who kept banging on her door every day saying that “I know you are a witch! All the folks from the town say that! I want you to teach me magic!”

An incredibly stubborn annoyance, that's for sure, but… There was also something else about her, about the way came back every day to the manor’s door, at first only screaming her demands about learning magic, but later on sitting against the closed door and talking about… everything, really. Her parents, her home, the friends she made across her travels. She talked alot about Chariot du Nord, the wandering witch who once stopped by Akko’s town and ignited the desire for learning magic inside her just by showing some simple illusions.

(Diana decided to ignore the fact that yes, those same “simple illusions” also had quite an impact on her, when she saw the performer as a child. But there was no need to tell Akko that just yet.)

Just after a week, Diana became accustomed to sitting by the door during the afternoon, hearing her new… friend? companion? talk through the thick wood, smiling softly at the sound of her voice and having to hold back her laughter when Akko would tell her about all the situations she got herself caught when traveling. 

At first it was just curiosity that drove Diana to hear the girl’s animated chatter, a mild interest on what was happening beyond the grounds of her estate. But Akko’s general optimism and her more than enthusiastic love of magic lit something inside Diana, something she thought was lost a long time ago.

So perhaps that was the reason that, during a terrible rainstorm, winds howling so loud even Akko’s screams could barely be heard, she found herself opening the door, quietly asking Akko if she would like to warm herself by the fire and apologizing for the unsightly state of her home

The dazzling smile and the brilliant red eyes that met her when she opened that door and seemed to be warmer than any fire could have any right to be sealed her fate: from this point forward, getting rid of Akko Kagari would not be an easy task.

Even after being alone for so long, living alongside Akko was so easy, so pleasant, that Diana couldn’t help to believe that it was somehow meant to be. Akko brought with her the warmth and the lightness that Diana’s life had been lacking in the last decade. It even affected the mansion: everywhere that Diana went there was a little something, a little piece of herself that Akko left in Diana’s home. In her eyes, it was silly, but Diana would feel butterflies flying in her stomach at the mere sight of two teacups forgotten in the living room.

(It took her a while to realize that Akko never asked Diana to teach her magic again, at least not since she took her in. It was almost like Akko was focusing more on getting to know her than becoming a witch, but that was a silly thought, right?)

But perhaps Akko’s presence in her life was affecting a bit of Diana’s sanity, for she found in herself the ability to chuckle even when said girl was currently kneeling in front of her, pulling the last crossbow bolt out of her chest and cursed under her breath while trying to stop the bleeding.

“I’m glad that one of us is finding this fun.” Perhaps it was the blood loss that was leaving her lightheaded, but Akko’s grumbles never looked more adorable than now, even if her hands were completely red.

“I was just reminiscing.”

“You better not be having one of those ‘seeing my life flash before my death’ moments, because I���m not going to let you bleed out on me!” The statement was delivered with Akko’s usual bolster, but there was no mistaking the slight crack to her voice or the way tears were gathering in the corner of her eyes. Diana raised one of her hands to Akko’s face, in an effort to comfort the smaller girl, but the sight of white fur and claws made her stop.

It was an unfair comparison, Akko’s beautiful features and Diana’s monstrous appearance. It looked wrong to even entertain the thought of touching Akko while having her body in this current state.

Almost as if sensing the change in her mood, Akko peered up at Diana, abandoning the bandagens when she saw that the holes in the heiress's shoulder were closing by themselves.

“Diana?” It was no louder than a whisper, but somehow it managed to bring Diana back from her daze.

A pause, no sound in the room other than their combined breathing, then Diana opened her hand wide, fingers so clawed and long she could almost wrap them completely over Akko’s head.

“Aren’t you scared?” Diana broke the silence, her gaze falling to the floor, before coming right back up as Akko touched her face.

“I am scared.” Diana could barely breathe under the intensity in which Akko was staring at her. “I was scared when I woke up in the middle of the night, your bedroom door was open and you weren’t there. I was scared when I searched this whole place for hours and I couldn’t find you. I was scared when you showed up, bleeding and barely awake, and I was scared that I was going to lose you.”

Then, in a surprising display of gentleness from the usually boisterous girl, Akko circled her fingers around Diana’s wrist, bringing it down and pressing a kiss against her knuckles.

“But I’m not scared of you. It might have been only a few months, but I know you, Diana.” Akko’s words were so filled with conviction and trust that Diana could barely hold back her tears. “I don’t know what happened to you, and you don’t have to trust me with it, seriously. But I have full, complete trust that you would never hurt me.”

It hurt. It hurt, the amount of trust and love, because what else could it be, to believe in someone else so blindingly, that Akko was willing to give her. It hurt because she was a horrible monster, and Akko deserved to know what she did, the crime that Diana committed and why she couldn’t accept this level of trust and care from Akko.

“I don’t… I don’t deserve this.” Tears rolled down Diana’s face, but she couldn’t bear to take away her hands from Akko, who was still holding onto them as tenderly as possible. 

[numerobjectologist]

Coiny drags Pinior all the way across Goiky. He's looking for something. Pinior even questions if he'll keep her tied up forever. Coiny doesn't answer any questions. Instead when he gets to where he is going he stops and rummages around. Pinior tries to escape but still cannot see what they type. After berating Coiny some more he fucking snaps and starts yelling at Pinior. He yells about how he has to keep everyone together and that they don't deserve to suffer. And that any time he's miserable somebody else besides him isn't a target. That he's being a sacrifice and if everyone is happy he does his job well! I'm torn between Coiny being told it isn't his job and he sucks at it anyways only for her to run up to Pinior and say that its like Pinior doesn't even see him as a person! Or Pinior rebuttals with isn't he a someone? Not out of genuine belief at this point but more out of confusion as to why Coiny doesn't think she's a person. Either way Coiny responds "Shut Up!" And grabs Pinior's rim harshly, pulling it down. He stops. Coiny realizes in horror what he is doing and then bites into the hand so hard it bleeds. He wordlessly searches until he finds one of the BFDIA prize wheels.. she spins it and it lands on the one in BFDIA 5. Pinior is de-limbed. Coiny makes sure Pinior can't hurt anyone else before just.... Curling into a ball for hours. It's the first time Coiny has felt safe enough to actually show his emotions in a long long time. He just weeps. (Fun fact: I was a comic relief kind of person once. I just kept all my emotions inside because others got sad or upset seeing me cry. It never felt... Safe to. Still doesn't.) For hours. Eventually Coiny drags Pinior to the music hall. He's so spent. Pinior asks why Coiny did it and he snaps back "And what else was I supposed to do?! You tell me!" Before they eventually find the second wheel in the prop area of the music hall. He spins the wheel as he's done before. Pinior is given a way to move that doesn't allow her to harm anyone with god powers. Coiny goes back morosely (perhaps hooking Pinior up to a car battery if irony is your thing) and of course has to explain what she's done. But the others hail Coiny a hero. Besides Pin. Because this? It's unforgivable to him. Let Pinmod decide how it goes it's out of our hands ( we would ask to borrow Coiny ( the most favorable As the indignation of Pin would be far more real ) or get Pinmod up to the plan) . As for the motley crew? Left disfigured by Pinior's bout they try to deal with it. Pinior broke some Very important code and now M!As are kinda...less effective (until the fabric of the universe heals) no easy fix for now but reapplying M!A's can lead to things trying to be solved magically. Ship carries Maple and Pinior away with Spyglass as her eye patch. Later on Spyglass realizes she can hop from object to object but there's always something wrong with them some have no eyes. Some have too many. Some no mouths. Some are unable to speak and some unable to hear. Some have no arms and some have too many. Some of them have no legs but some of them have only legs. The only one that feels "good enough is the eye patch. You wanted a dysphoria analogue? You got one there. As for Maple and Leafior ? They've been reunited in the same body. This leads to Maple becoming obsessed with keeping Leafior Safe. If you go with the four wing thing then Maple would request arms and legs back. But freak the fuck out at any mention of separation. Major separation anxiety. In fact the Poinsetta plot can start to fix the fabric of the universe so things aren't permanent.

@mini-leafster

That's basically all I got.

[not-that-blog]

I unlocked trauma tonight.

Really fucked up shit that honestly makes me feel so close to depression again just knowing it.

Years of therapy tools and techniques are paying off, but the saddest truth about being an adult is that, I know with 100% certainty that it doesn't matter that this horror hasn't yet impacted my view of myself or my self worth, it's just made my distain for a number of disowned and cut off family grow even deeper into a line of hatred, betrayal and honesty horror at how much they're fucking monsters who I once saw as the most amazing humans in my life but now they're not just cowards who enabled a monster, but actually willing participants in the monstrous movements themselves..... I shouldn't be left alone tomorrow because that won't last forever.

But even if by some miracle it does... it won't hold the weight of the ptsd from crashing down upon me in the daylight.

Right now the sleeping world is all that holds my peace.

I mumble the few prayers I've memorised in slight comfort, I take note of the feelings, name them, feel where they sit in my body, feel the discomfort and then relax and let it fade. Repeat mantras, walk myself through the motions of productively using my ability to maladaptive daydream to walk myself through safe spaces.

Try to stay grounded in who I am so I don't split and really settle myself so that it doesn't break me because damnit I am so so fucking close to having a complete fusion of this system and learning what it's like to be alone in my own brain and life and I will be damned if that fuckers betrayal that's already happened and done causes me to undo a decade of therapy work at becoming a functioning human being.

I was a system of at least 75.

Always, always being taken over and my life in shambles and constantly sabotaged and destroyed before it even had a chance.

There's now maybe more than 5, but most of the time it's just Gemma and I.

There's two of us that exist full time and the others are so close to being fused that I am disappointed when they front because although I love them dearly and there's a part of me that misses my life in our inner world... they should not exist and their existence is a sign of pain and suffering for forced survival because the only ones that exist that aren't Gem and I are trauma holders.

And little E, they're holding the last of my childhood trauma. Eliza is holding a lot of guilt and pain for my teenage years that honestly... I am not ready to touch and I am still more incredibly grateful than sad bc she's a ridiculously level headed trauma holder who also holds a lot of my hopes and dreams and religious trauma from the christian upbringing. And Cicely... when she splits off again when I am in trauma mode, she breaks my heart because she's the artistic director of my heart and soul and the holder of all the broken heartedness from lost potentialities and the way I wanted the world to be. She is my romanticism personified and fuck I love her and I hate when she shows up because if we split again and she returns it's like the sign our heart is so broken we actually lost our core connection to ourself and need to hold it separate to protect it.

Gemma is functioning through anxiety and the ability to keep control. I am everyday life and just pushing us through healing and being the host and accepting this is my reality and my life and my responsibility and I am host and it's my life and I owe it to that small child to give them a good life and a good world where they're safe and healthy and happy and truely themselves.

And I will be damned if the behaviour of a fucker who used to take every opportunity to terrify me and make me afraid and miserable is going to keep hurting me for the rest of my life.

I was the only child not given a biblical name.

But mum wanted to name me Naomi.

I intend to have my Hebrew name be Naom. (I was thrilled when looking at jewish baby name blogs to learn this was an option)

The (darker) humour is not lost on me that of all of us, I am the one who actually follows any of their names. Both given and chosen.

[norcalbruja]

Not really an "update" but definitely a note

So Hera is one of the new spirits who saw me having a meltdown a couple of days ago, was shocked/horrified that I apparently lose my shit and start screaming for help all the time, and she's wondering why the fuck nobody's HELPED me yet.

Especially not 97% of the anito. Hera is extremely concerned that the only named Tagalog spirits who have shown up are three sea-gods that I have a REALLY hard time believing are the actual anito, what with the reading I got saying that the anito abandoned me and I guess I'm shit out of luck (my phrasing, not the reader's). So I get the fun conflicting emotions where I want to believe them, but I also know that any Tagalog spirits claiming that they're the anito and they actually DO care about me are just AUTOMATICALLY suspicious now.

--

Anyway, so a couple of days ago, the Water-Spirit and I were talking about something or another and then Spirit-Me devolved into screaming, "HELPPPPPPPPPP!!! HELLLLLLLP!!!! LET ME OUT!!!! LET ME OUT OF THIS FUCKING NOTHINGNESS I'M STUCK IN!!! SOMEONE WHO'S WILLING AND ABLE TO HELP ME, PLEASE!!! I CAN'T FIND A JOB AND NOBODY WITH MONEY CARES ABOUT MY ART, AND I CAN'T MOVE OUT OF MY MOM'S SHITTY ANCIENT APARTMENT BECAUSE I HAVE NO JOB!!! I SWEAR I'LL STOP BOTHERING THE SPIRITS IF SOMEONE JUST FIGURES OUT A WAY TO HELP ME, PLEASE!!! I WOULD NOT BE BEGGING SPIRITS FOR HELP IF THERE WAS ANY NORMAL WAY TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!! PLEASE!!! LET ME OUTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!"

Hera just stopped and stared in horror as the Water-Spirit and Dionysus started frantically trying to calm me down, and she said, "That's it??? That's all you're doing??? Where are her people's gods?!"

And Dionysus was like "Hera, we told you already--most of them aren't here. A reader told her that the anito hate her poor-person begging and quit on her. And they said the anito think her blog, her fantasy writing, and basically everything she did regarding the anito, are blasphemous."

And Hera said "Yes, I know that! But getting a house and a job has nothing to do with her art, so they could at least help her with that! How is she going to make LESS-BLASPHEMOUS art if she's always miserable and stuck with her mother?"

So Dionysus said "Well we don't know WHY they're not here, but they're not."

And Haik Number Four arrived and he just wearily went, "Is that what people think of us now? Even if the others are mad at her, they are not like the Christian God--most of us shouldn't think suffering makes you WORTHY or BETTER or anything like that. You pray for help, and most pagan spirits think you should GET IT."

That just sent me into another frantic wave of begging Haik specifically for help, so Hera just "dragged me out" of the Otherworld for a few minutes going, "STOP. STOP. I DON'T LIKE THIS."

I may have heard a spiritual "door" slam shut, so the others couldn't talk to us.

When I found out my brother died, the Dagda (Irish Pantheon) did something similar and reluctantly "kicked me out of the Otherworld" entirely for a few days. He said I needed to process my grief the normal way instead of trying to feel better using the spirit-world as a coping mechanism.

But this was only for a few minutes, and Hera told me, "Honey. Please. Why are you doing this? I don't like it."

And I said, "I don't like it either, but if houses here didn't cost a million dollars, and if rent was less than two thousand a month for a fucking tiny studio apartment, I would not be begging the spirits for help!"

She told me, "I know. I don't like that you are reduced to doing this. You should have gotten help WAY before this, and the ones you want help from don't seem to want to do it! It's already degrading for people to beg for help, and you've been begging whoever listens for who knows how long?!"

I got irrationally mad and just seethed at her, "DEGRADING??? THAT'S FOR PEOPLE WHO DON'T WANT TO LOOK BAD. I NEED SOME FUCKING HELP, HERA--LIKE AN ART CAREER AND A HOUSE! OR A MILLION DOLLARS TO GET THE HOUSE, AND THEN I CAN FOCUS ON MY ART!!! I DON'T CARE IF I'M DEGRADING MYSELF! I WILL KEEP BEGGING THE SPIRITS FOR HELP UNTIL I GET SOME GODDAMN HELP!!!"

So I didn't attack her or anything, but I started screaming and thrashing in anger/pain, and then Lola Buwaya came around to just grab me and shake me. She's done that a couple of times when I have an especially bad fit of rage/despair.

And it's not GOOD, but it gets me to stop, so it's "the stuff we have to do for now." Like how Hypnos made the obvious comment that a lot of my sleep problems are due to stress, and if I had an income and/or my own place, I would sleep a lot better. But I don't have either, so I have to constantly ask a sleep-god to put me under.

Hera didn't like the shaking, either. She just went, "EXCUSE ME, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! She's not a fish!"

Lola told her, "You all are too nice! You pretend she's a normal person! One who can control her feelings and listen when people want her to calm down! She is not, and she will not be until she can get the hell away from her mother!"

The cursing surprised me because Lola does not curse a lot. Much like the Water-Spirit, she talks formally/archaically most of the time and it's really jarring when she finally drops a swear-word.

Anyway, so she left now that I wasn't screaming anymore, and Hera just sighed and went, "Where are your people's gods in all this? You have three possible sea-gods and one water-spirit husband, but they don't tend to deal with buying a house or artistic pursuits. I suppose I'll help you with what I can, sweetheart. Just keep doing what you're doing with the Water-Spirit."

And she's already said she'll try to help me a couple of times, but this time was really striking because I was in a shitty place and having someone be NICE felt weird. It was so foreign that it almost felt painful, especially since she wasn't asking me to do anything (different/new) in exchange for her help.

So I told her "Hera, why are you so NICE to me? I mean, your relationship with Zeus kind of precedes... both of you."

She said, "Well, you and him are not me and Zeus. You two have a GOOD relationship. That is my concern, so that's why I'm helping."

And the "closed door" was probably open by now, so Dionysus came in and went, "Fuck my dad, babe. What are you girls talking about?"

I went, "The same shit I keep talking about, Dionysus. I need money for my own place, and I can't seem to get any. I want to do art for a living, but most people I ask about it never answer me back, or they take weeks or months to finally say they can't actually help, but my art sounds REALLY REALLY cool. And how it seems like every other spirit thinks something is wrong with the sheer absence of the anito in my life, and the reasons that people have told me for why the anito aren't here makes a lot of the Tagalog spirits freak out."

And Dionysus sighed and went "Well, this day was too exciting. Go to sleep now, babe, it's 3am."

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

Y'know, whenever people want to talk about why aspec people 'count' as an oppressed identity, they tend to go for the big stuff like corrective rape and conversion therapy. And like, we should absolutely talk about that stuff. Obviously those things are terrible and important and we need to raise awareness and deal with them.

But I feel like people often gloss over how… quietly traumatising it is to grow up being told that there is only one way to be happy— and that everybody who doesn't conform to that norm is secretly miserable and just doesn't know it— and then to gradually realise that, for reasons that you cannot help, that is never going to happen for you.

You're not going to find a prince/princess and ride off into the sunset. Or if you do, then it's not going to look exactly the way it does in fairytales. You're not going to get a 'normal' relationship, because you are not 'normal', and everybody and everything around you keeps telling you that that's bad.

You see films where characters are presented as being financially stable, genuinely passionate about their work and surrounded by friends and family, but then spend the rest of the plot realising that the real thing they needed was a (romantic and sexual) partner, to make them 'complete'.

You absorb the idea that any relationships you have with allo people will ultimately be unfulfilling on their side, and that this will be your fault (even if you discussed things with your partner beforehand and they decided that they were a-okay with having those sorts of boundaries in a relationship) unless you deliberately force yourself into situations that you aren't comfortable with, so as to make uo for your 'defects'.

You grow up feeling lowkey gaslighted because all the adults in your life (even in LGBT+ spaces. In fact especially in LGBT+ spaces) are insisting that it's totally normal to not be attracted to anybody at your age, and then you go to school and everybody keeps pressuring you to name somebody you're attracted to because they can't imagine not being attracted to anybody at your age.

And then you get older and realise that one day you're going to be expected to leave home, and that one day all your friends are going to be expected to put aside other relationships and 'settle down' with a primary partner and you don't know what you're going to do after that because you straight up don't have a roadmap for what a 'happy ending' looks like for someone like you.

(And the LGBT+ community is little help, because so many people in there are more than happy to tell you that you're not oppressed at all. That you're like this because you don't want to have sex, and/or you don't want to have any relationships, that your orientation is some sort of choice you made— like not eating bananas— rather than an intrinsic part of you that a lot of us have at some point tried to wish away.)

Even if you're grey or demi, and do experience those feelings, you still have to deal with the fact that you're not experiencing them the 'normal' way and that that's going to effect your relationships and your ability to find one in the first place.

If you're aiming for lifelong singlehood (which is valid af) or looking for a qpp, then you're going to have to spend the rest of your life either letting people make wrong assumptions about your situation (at best that your relationship is of a different nature than it actually is, at worst that the life you've chosen is really just a consolation prize because you 'failed' at finding a romantic/sexual partner) or pulling out a powerpoint and several webpages every time you want to explain it.

This what being aspec looks like for most people, and it is constantly minimised as being unimportant and not worth fighting against— even in aspec spaces— because we've all on some level absorbed the idea that oppression is only worth fighting against if it's big, and dramatic, and immediately obvious. That all the little incidents of suffering that we experience on a daily basis are not enough to be worth bothering about.

I mean, who gives a shit if you feel broken, inherently toxic as a partner, and like you're going to be denied happiness because of your orientation? Shouldn't we all just shut up and thank our lucky stars we don't have to deal with all the stuff some of the other letters in the acronym have to put up with (leaving aside the fact that there are many aspec people who identify with more than one letter)?

So you know what? If you're aspec and you relate to anything I've said above (or can think of other things relating your your aspec-ness that I haven't mentioned) then this is me telling you now that it's enough. Even if we got rid of all the big stuff (which we're unlikely to do any time soon because— Shock! Horror!— the big stuff is actually connected to all the small stuff) we would still be unable to consider our fight 'over' because what you are experiencing is not 'basically okay' and something we should just be expected to 'put up with'.

No matter what anybody tells you, we have the right to demand more from life than this.

[poisoned-peppermint]

Part 4 of incorrect quotes because i feel obligated to make more due to the sheer number of people who liked it

Dream: My dearest beloved fuckos, is a fun, gender-neutral way to begin a speech

George: See also, esteemed bastards

Bad: Gentlefolk, Ferals, and Domesticated cryptids. 

Sapnap: My fellow yees and haws

~~~~~~~

Techno:Hey I know skyrim is revered as a classic but are we just going to ignore the fact that the entire game only had like 3 voice actors

Wilbur:Stop right there criminal cum

Techno:My ancestors are smiling at me, bastard, can you say the same

~~~~~~~

Foolish:When's your bedtime :)

Purpled: Whenever I next collapse in purely up to the gods

~~~~~~

Ranboo:Human skin is a fursuit for skeletons 

Tubbo: i’m going to debone you like a fucking trout

~~~~~~

Bad:You’re enough

Bad: love yourself!!!!!!! or suffer my wrath!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dream:And by wrath I mean love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bad:no I mean wrath!!!!! You reading this, if you don't love yourself I’ll beat you with a stick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

~~~~~~~

Bad:I hope everyone is today well! And tomorrow!!!! After that you’re on your own.

~~~~~~

Bad:what am I supposed to do all day while you’re at work

Skeppy:I don’t know, what do you normally do while I’m gone

Bad: wait for you to get back

~~~~~~

Velvet:For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5am on the day I can sleep in

Ant:Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.

Velvet:Early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch

~~~~~~

Tubbo: 3:23 AM make a wish

Ranboo: I wish that you would go to sleep

Tuddo: Yeah well I wish I grew an inch taller every day as you get an inch shorter until you’re as flat as as a piece of paper and I’m 11 feet tall

Ranboo: You’re going to die of a mixture of skeletal instability and heart disease.

Tubbo: Yeah but I’ll look good while doing it.

~~~~~~

Bad:Disrespect me again and I’ll determine your bodies resonant frequency and play a jaunty horn solo that boils your miserable organs inside out 

~~~~~~

Quackity: If I were dating you?  Well, heh. Let’s just say horses wouldn't be called horses anymore

Karl: hey what the honk does this mean…..I’m shaking what does this mean!

~~~~~~

Skeppy: Are you ok?

Bad wrapped in a burrito blanket drinking his 6th cup of coffee: Yes, this is exactly what mental stability looks like

~~~~~~

Sam: My hands are cold

Ponk: *holds their hands*

Ponk: better?

Sam: My lips are cold too

~~~~~~

George at dream’s funeral: can I have a moment alone with them?

Sapnap: of course *leaves*

George leaning over dream’s casket: Now listen, I know you’re not dead.

Dream: yeah no shit

~~~~~~

Skeppy, jokingly: I should have Bad kill you for that.

Bad, peering around the corner: Who do I need to kill?

Skeppy: Wh- no, I was just kidding around.

Bad, pulling out a switchblade: No, who’s bothering you

~~~~~~

Bad *watching the news*: Some idiot tried to fight a squid at the aquarium.

Skeppy *covered in ink*: Maybe the squirt was being a dick.

~~~~~~

Peacock: *spreads feathers at Bad*

Skeppy: It’s trying to attract a mate

Bad, extremely confused: *shyly lifts top*

Skeppy: No!

~~~~~~

Sapnap: Karl, do you eat olives? My dad wants to know

Karl: No, I hate olives. Olives are the spawn of satan. I hate olives so much my mom forced me to live in Mount olive for the rest of my childhood as a curse from the olive gods. Do you understand how much olives have ruined my life? I'm so offended that you asked me that have some consideration for people who have been abused by olives please!

Sapnap: K A R L ……….they’re just olives!!?

Karl: JUST OLIVES EXCUSE!

~~~~~~

Tommy: If you’re bored you can simply close your eyes and rotate a cow in your mind. It’s free and the cops can’t stop you

~~~~~~

Wilbur: is there anyone even named sheldon irl?

Tubbo: my class turtle from 6th grade :)

Wilbur: that’s a turtle

Tubbo: When god sings with his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir?

~~~~~~

Ranboo: No bcuz why do ppl like salad?? What’s so good about it

Tubbo: chew leaf like god intended

Ranboo: No

Tubbo: Abandon god and see what he does next time you lift your hands in prayer

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Guys, there’s a monster under my bed and it’s really ugly.

Wilbur, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

~~~~~~

Quackity: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

~~~~~~

Puffy: If you had too, what would you give up food or sex?

Bad: Sex.

Skeppy: Seriously, answer faster.

Bad: I’m sorry honey, when they said sex I wasn’t thinking about sex with you.

Skeppy: It’s like a giant hug.

Puffy: Ant, what about you? What would you give up sex or food?

Ant: Food.

Puffy: Okay, how about sex or dinosaurs?

Ant: ……...Oh my God it’s like the movie Sophie’s Choice.

Gumi: What about you Velvet? What would you give up sex or food?

Velvet: Oh… um… I don’t know, it’s too hard.

Gumi: No, you gotta pick one.

Velvet: Um, food… no, sex… no, food…sex… food. Ugh! I don’t know! I want both! I- I want Antfrost on bread!

~~~~~~~

Tommy, holding a gun: If the conspiracies about life being a simulation are true WHOEVERS CONTROLLING MY SIM I JUST WANNA TALK.

~~~~~~~

Bad: Why are you guys acting like this?

Boomer: Oh, we’re not acting. We really are like this.

~~~~~~

Techno: Dream has only knocked me out three times this week. Our friendship is really developing.

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re pathetic!

Wilbur: You’re pathetic-er!

Techno: You’re both losers.

~~~~~~

Bad: I wish I could help you, but I shorn’t.

Skeppy: Bad, please!

Bad: What part of shorn’t don’t you understand?

~~~~~~

Tubbo: Why did you leave Wrestlemania on for Michal?

Ranboo: They need to learn how to protect us.

~~~~~~

Antfrost: I regret getting dragged into your heterosexual tomfoolery.

~~~~~~

Bad: Strawberry milk doesn’t taste like strawberry OR milk.

Skeppy: Go the fuck to sleep Bad!

Bad: LANGUAGE!!

~~~~~~

Ranboo: Tubbo, please calm down.

Tubbo: I asked for two large fries!

Tubbo: *dumps fries onto table*

Tubbo: But all they did was give me a MILLION FUCKING LITTLE ONES!

~~~~~~

Bad: That was the worst throw ever. Of all time.

Skeppy: Not my fault. Somebody put a wall in the way.

~~~~~~

Wilbur: When you’ve been on the internet for as long as I have, you develop thick skin.

Tommy: Navy blue isn’t your color.

Wilbur: Navy blue brings out my eyes you prick! *Chases after Tommy*

~~~~~~

Bad: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere*

Puffy: Where did you get that?.

Bad: My pocket.

Puffy: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket?

Bad: Skills.

~~~~~~

Tubbo: I will come to your house after work and knock on your window at 11 AM. You will not open the curtains, knowing full well what awaits you, but the knocking only grows louder, more demanding. Finally it stops, your ears ringing. You nervously let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You're safe now. Minutes pass by and you start to relax. And then you hear a knock at the front door. Like before, you stay still and clutch the blankets around you. You try to tell your self that it's just your imagination. Maybe the milk man? But why would he come so late? Everyone else was asleep, save for Naomi who was playing video games down stairs. To your relief, the knocking stops after a few. Minutes and you breath easy once more. Until you hear a knock on your bedroom door. You don't move. It's just your imagination. She isn't here. She can't be here. You tell yourself, shutting your eyes and willing yourself to sleep. The knock comes again, but with horror you realize that it came from the closet inside your room. You know that you have no choice. You get up, climbing out of bed with shaking limbs. You walk to the closest, trembling, and holding back the tears threatening to spill over your porcelain cheeks. You hesitate with your hand over the closet handle. Maybe it's just your imagination? She's not really there. You can go to sleep and laugh it off in the morning. Your naive thoughts are cut off by another, more demanding knock on the closet door, inches from your face. You know what you have to do. You open the closet door, and there she stands. Chuck e cheese, the mouse looms over you in the dim light. It's soulless eyes boor into you. It raises its arms, and you flinch as it begins to floss at lightning speed. Tears spill over your cheeks. This is the last thing you'll ever see.

Ranboo: Wait, Chuck e cheese’s pronouns are she/her? Trans Chuck e cheese? Good for her.

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Would you like something to drink? *They opened the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper-

Quackity: Spiders?

Bad: Spiders it is then.

Quackity: No, that wasn’t-

*But they were already pouring him a brimming glass of spiders…

~~~~~~

Puffy : Make her pussy wet not her eyes.

Velvet : Make his dick hard not his life.

Punz : Break her bed not her heart.

Skeppy : Play with his boobs not his feelings. 

Ant : Get on his dick not his nerves.

Bad : Always salt your pasta while boiling it.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Tommy: Bet you I can!

Phil: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

~~~~~~~

Ant: We need a way to lure in new customers?

Ponk: Maybe we could have some fun, interactive events!

Skeppy: Badboyhalo bath water.

Bad: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

~~~~~~~~

Fundy: GET BACK HERE YOU DUMB FUCK!

Wilbur: LET ME RUN FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS!

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Mint is just cold spicy.

Pummel party Squad: …

Gumi: What the actual fuck is wrong with you.

~~~~~~~~

Quackity: Isn’t it amazing how I can feel so bad and still look so good?

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt?

Phil:

Phil: Why are you eating dirt?

Tommy: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

~~~~~~~

Tubbo: I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies.

Quackity: You’re too young to have enemies.

Tubbo: You don’t even know.

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Is there a cactus where your heart should be?

Puffy: What’s up your ass this morning!

Bad: *walks in* …Hi!!

Puffy: Hmm… nevermind.

Skeppy: WAIT NO!

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Ha! Don’t you know the trappers trap can trap the trapper?

Skeppy: I must be losing it, I’m quoting Bad.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Bad, I sense hostility.

Bad: Good, because I hate you

~~~~~~~

Bad: Are you a painting?

Skeppy: What-?

Bad: Because I want to pin you to a wall.

Skeppy: OH GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY YOU WANTED TO HANG ME OR SOMETHING-

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re giving me a sticker?

Phil: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”

Tommy: I’m not a preschooler.

Phil: Fine, I’ll take it back-

Tommy: I earned this, back off!

~~~~~~

Dream, sweating: George, there’s something I need to ask you-

George: Finally! You’re proposing!

Dream: How’d you know?

George: Dream, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

George: I even picked it up once

~~~~~~~~

*Bad and Skeppy looking at a locked gate into a park*

Bad: Aw. :(

Skeppy: You know what they say.

Bad: Please don’t-

Skeppy: BE GAY DO CRIME! *hops gate*

Bad: Frick-

~~~~~~~~

let me know if ya’ll want more <3

[therealvinelle]

What do you think the Cullens would do if some person they were talking to, out of nowhere just quite literally exploded in front of, and on them? Kinda like in that movie Spontaneous. Would they lose control and slurp up the mess on the ground, (and themselves) or would their bloodlust be curtailed by shock of wtf just happened?

I'd say something witty about how this is a strange anon to receive, but holy jesus you've sent me down a rabbithole.

Here's a trailer to the movie Spontaneous. It looks amazing. Kevin Feige wishes this had been his plot for Infinity War.

Here's a trailer for the movie Spontaneous Combustion, which I found by accident while searching for your fic. This looks amazing too. Can't believe Marvel didn't buy the rights to this guy.

I'm serious, people, you definitely want to watch these trailers. I just about died laughing.

So, on to your ask.

In the spirit of your ask, which implies a level of randomness, I thought the people blowing up should be random too. So, being in the mood to procrastinate through spending way too much time on tumblr things, I wrote a program that'll generate for me random Twilight characters.

Unsure whether the explosion should kill vampires or not, I generated an answer. The answer is yes, any generated vampire dies.

Without further ado:

Alice watches Vladimir blow up.

Alright, alright.

The first question to be answered here is why Alice is in Vladimir's presence in the first time. In canon they only meet once, at the end of Breaking Dawn.

For the sake of simplicity, we'll have Vladimir blow up then.

The Cullens and the witnesses are all celebrating being alive, when Vladimir suddenly explodes.

For the sake of the ask, Alice is sitting closest to him when this happens and making conversation.

Her first thought is utter shock. Not just that he blew up, but that she didn't see it coming (she wouldn't, because I randomly generated him. No decision was made). Her second thought is horror.

The Cullens just confronted the Volturi, now mere hours afterwards their allies are blowing up.

Holy fuck, Aro has a gifted ace up his sleeve, and he's using it to kill them remotely.

Panic ensues, not just for Alice, but among all the witnesses. Some of them refuse to leave, Bella has to shield those 24/7, though given the belief that her gift is psychic that doesn't make them feel very safe.

The others decide to go after the Volturi and beg for mercy, assuring them they never meant to challenge them.

Aro, of course, is very confused, but agrees. Why, yes, he does have a vampire who blows people up. Yes, yes he does.

Bella watches Aro blow up.

Oh I'm dying laughing at this one. And wishing I'd put this down for Carlisle, that would be even funnier, but alright.

Bella is walking about post-Breaking Dawn, minding her own business, when suddenly Aro appears in front of her. He looks around himself, utterly surprised by his sudden deplacement, and then blows up.

Bella has been living in terror of this man for years.

In Volterra he had his servant torture her and Edward and then made ominious threats, then a few months later the Eclipse disaster unfolded, finally we have Breaking Dawn where he showed up to murder her and everyone she loved.

Her shield may be powerful, but for as long as Aro was alive her family was never truly safe.

His untimely implosion changes all of that.

I imagine after a long moment of incredulity, Bella burns the rubble, just to be sure, then tells her family the joyous news.

Carlisle gives the guy a funeral. It's weird.

Carlisle watches Vassilii blow up.

Close call, due to my not switching out the names we almost had Angela. In which case Carlisle have stood there, covered in blood and in shock for several long seconds, before bringing out the bleach and gasoline for a crime scene clean.

As it is, Carlisle is minding his own business when suddenly an immortal child dressed like a medieval Eastern European appears before him. It says something in a foreign language that might mean "hi", he doesn't know but he says "hi" to it back, then the child blows up.

Carlisle stares at the rubble for a very long time, wondering if he is perhaps losing his mind. If, perhaps, Aro was right about animal blood being a slow suicide, and Carlisle has finally hit the limit for how long a vampire can go on without human blood.

He burns the rubble and prays for the child's soul, as an immortal child is doomed anyway, and keeps his silence about what happened. In part because there's a solid chance this was all in his imagination.

If Aro ever touches his hand again, and sees the immortal child that he burned a thousand years earlier resurrect, travel through time, all in order to blow up in front of Carlisle, he... well there comes a point where you say "nothing to see here" and refuse eye contact with the universe glitching.

Edward watches Randall blow up.

Randall, for the ignorants, is one of Carlisle's friends that came to witness for the Cullens in Breaking Dawn.

Suddenly he appears in front of Edward, says hi and how do you do, and then he blows up.

Edward tells Carlisle, who is saddened by this, and they try to piece the guy together. They fail.

Edward sends a somber thought to this noble man who agreed with Edward that the Cullens are awesome enough to be worth dying for.

Emmett watches Mary blow up.

Emmett will never admit it, but it's the coolest, raddest thing he's ever seen.

Esme watches Eleazar blow up.

Oh boy.

The Cullens are visiting the Denali. Irina has not been dead for long, but given the crystal clear memory of vampires, and the loss they already suffered (Sasha's death traumatized them) it doesn't really matter how long it's been, the Denali are devastated anyway.

The whole coven is as fragile as it can possibly get.

Then, Eleazar goes to join Esme in the kitchen, and explodes all over her and the kitchen.

The remaining Denali and the Cullens are called to the kitchen by the sound of Esme's screaming, and find her in hysterics, surrounded by gray rubble.

The Denali are near catatonic with grief at this point, while cooking has been ruined for Esme. One moment you're making food, the next people are exploding all over your kitchen.

Yeah.

Esme is not okay.

Jasper watches Nahuel blow up.

It's a shameful moment in his life.

But, hybrids are edible.

And that blood was splattered all over him.

Jasper has the worst control fail of his life, worse even than when he failed with Bella because this fail means he can't be around Renesmée anymore.

It's miserable all around.

The one highlight here is that it didn't happen when they were headed to the Volturi trial together.

Rosalie watches Emmett blow up.

Jesus christ, random Twilight character generator, just when I thought you were just going to give me boring results.

Not only does Rosalie lose the love of her life, the guy who kept her together, the one good thing she had going for her who made her life worth living, but he did so right in front of her, blowing up out of nowhere.

There's no explanation to be had, no culprit to be found, no reason for it. She had no goodbye, just as she can have no revenge.

She will never have closure.

Renesmée watches Renée blow up.

We go out on a high note, my god. Well done, generator, I'm laughing.

Renesmée is curious enough about her grandmother to go to Florida. She was going to watch from afar, but finds herself talking to the woman who raised her mother.

It's all going well until Renée suddenly explodes all over Renesmée.

Renesmée's first thought is nothing, she's in shock.

Then...

Well, she was controlled as an infant, so I don't think an adult Renesmée would lose it unless under extreme circumstances, like if she encountered a singer.

More, though, Renesmée might have any reasons of her own not to drink human blood, but she has been raised with this being a big no-no.

So she shouldn't.

However...

Is she ever going to get a better chance?

Ethically, she could easily argue this is the right choice. No one will be negatively affected by this, at least not directly.

The human is right there, already dead, and there's no body so while Renesmée does have to clean up the gore. Hell, if she laps up the blood on her clothes and the ground she will be cleaning up. Why waste perfectly good blood?

If Renesmée Cullen is ever going to have human blood, this is it.

It will come down to how much she respects her grandfather, and how important she believes Renée was to Bella.

-

Bonus, because I'm having way too much fun with this:

Bree watches Atheonodora blow up.

Bree is minding her own business when suddenly a vampire unlike any she has ever seen before, one with hazy eyes and odd skin, appears before her. They stare at each other. Then the woman blows up.

Bree takes this to mean that exploding is apparently something vampires just do sometimes, runs off in a panic and, sobbing, tells Riley.

Riley, having no idea what to make of any of this, tells her it was those evil yellow-eyes with their witchcraft and sorcery.

[sevendeadlymorons]

When your requests are open again could you possibly do a scenario on how the brothers would react to an mc who cuts themself... if not I understand, thank you either way, love your content!

I saw this come up and I just had to do this one straight away as it hits close to home for me. Thank you for the request, I hope you’re doing ok

Brothers Reaction to MC Who Harms Themself

WARNING: NSFW // Mentions of self harm, blood and sharp objects !

—————————————————

Lucifer

Was about to knock on your door to deliver your missed RAD work, when he heard a silent gasp and cry come from inside. He listens in as the sound continues. He opens the door to ask if you were alright, but when he saw you pressing a blade to your wrist, he drops everything he was holding onto the floor, and all that was on his mind in that moment of time was taking the blade away from you. He runs full charge at you, taking the blade away from you as you collapse in his arms, sobbing. Hearing the pain in your voice as you scream out to him, begging him to give you the blade back was the most traumatising thing he’s ever heard, and it will live on with him forever.

Shushes you and strokes your hair, trying to comprehend what just happened, completely forgetting about your mutilated wrist until he feels fresh blood trickle down onto his skin from your fresh wound. He panics and runs out the room, taking the blade with him, throwing it in the bin in disgust, before grabbing some disinfectant and bandages, rushing back over to you to wipe your wounds, telling you that you’re doing great when you suck air through your teeth in pain. He carefully wraps up your wrist, making sure to not hurt you or tie it too tight.

After he’d wrapped you up and disinfected your wounds, he’d held your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb and staring into your dull eyes, giving you a small smile as you fake one back, his heart dropping to his stomach at your state. He holds you in a tight hug and promised you he’d never let you be hurt again, because it kills him to see you in pain.

Mammon

He doesn’t knock, but for once, he wished he did as he stared you in the eye, watching blood trickle down your arm in horror as you held scissors in your other hand. He stood there for a few seconds, in shock, before reality kicked in and he was running to your side, snatching the scissors from your grip and catching you as your knees buckle. He’s never seen you look so lifeless. Your eyes were dull and there wasn’t even the faintest sign of a smile on your lips, the one he can’t wait to see every morning. That smile was gone. He held you so tight as you cried into his shirt, screaming his name into his chest and shaking. He feels physically sick seeing you like this. This isn’t the MC he knows...

He felt something wet drip onto his arm and when he looked down to find your arm slit, oozing blood, he panicked and pulled you to the bathroom, unthinkingly running your arm under warm water but regretting it when he saw your face wince in pain. He didn’t know what to do for you. He just wanted to make you feel better. He looked around in the cabinets and grabbed some loose bandages he luckily found, messily wrapping your arm up in the fabrics, not tying it too tight so that it doesn’t hurt you.

Sat you down on the bed, and held your hand, tears forming in his eyes as he stares into yours, and watches you try your best at flashing him a sweet, small smile. He hugs you tightly, rubbing your back and rocking you, telling himself he won’t ever let that happen again for as long as he lives.

Leviathan

Anime night, Levi had been looking forward to it all week, but when he flung the door open and caught eyes with a blade pressed to your thigh, he stopped. He dropped everything he had and just stared at it. Horror in his eyes as his mouth trembled. He was in shock, he had no idea what to do as he stared at that sharp object between your fingers. So he did all he knew to do; rushed straight towards you, snatching the blade and throwing it across the room, his arms wrapped around you as he cries silently into your stomach, feeling you sob onto his head as well. He felt you shake in his arms so he rubbed your back, and went to hug you, putting his head in the crook of your neck.

So much had happened in the space of only a few minutes that he didn’t even realise the blood that was staining his clothes from your wounds. He looked all around the room for something to stop the bleeding, searching in your bathroom for bandages, where he luckily found a strip laying in the cabinet. He rushes back in and start to desperately wrap up your leg, his cheeks flushing red as he realised he was touching your thigh, but that wasn’t important right now. Right now, all he cared about was you

After he’d finished, he apologised for barging in and messily wrapping up your cuts, but you didn’t say anything. You was staring at your leg and Levi felt his heart break as the thought that he didn’t notice something was wrong wracked his brain. He held your head to his chest and squeezed you tightly. He will never let you go through this alone again, he refuses to let you suffer alone.

Satan

He occasionally just walks into your room and sits down next to you, whipping out a book and just enjoying your company. Today was one of those days, but when he walked in and didn’t see you, he decided to just come back later. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a pained gasp coming from the bathroom though. He walked towards the room and the door was slightly ajar. He pressed his ear to the door and heard you sobbing. He rushed in but the sight he saw, left him in complete shock. He couldn’t move as he stared down at you, a single blade clutched in your fingers, blood surrounding you on the bathroom floor as it was spilling out of your cuts. He felt himself trembling as he could practically feel his heart spilt in two at the sight of your face, so visibly broken. He dashed towards you, cradling you in his arms and asking you to give him the blade until you finally placed it in his palm and he threw it in the bin in anger. How couldn’t he have noticed, he was so annoyed with himself as he could feel your pain while you quivered in his embrace.

He composed himself and grabbed your face to look at you, wiping away your stray tears with his thumb as he then proceeded to examine your mutilated forearms. He couldn’t help but tear up as he felt your arm shake, looking you in your eyes and desperately asking why, over and over again. He shook his head, realising it wasn’t the time, and stood up to grab the bandages and disinfectant from in the cabinet, coming back to your level to clean the wound and wrap up your arm, giving it several kisses after he’d done.

He apologises for his abrupt entrance but reminds you that you should have told him you felt this way and he would have helped. When your face remained blank he wrapped you into a hug so tight, he could feel your pounding heartbeat. His heart hurt, the image of you on the floor still stuck in his head. He never wants to see you in that state again. He will protect you with his life from now on.

Asmodeus

Ran into your room to ask you what colour he should paint his nails for the party he’s going to soon, but when he got there and you were sat with your knees to your chest on the floor, your entire thigh covered in drastically bleeding cuts right next to a large box cutter, he choked on his words, in disbelief as blood ran down your leg. He almost screamed and scurried to your side, throwing the blood stained knife to the side and stroking the back of your hand as he watched you break down. He pulls your head slowly into his shoulder and let you cry, his hand running up and down your back as he felt himself shaking when he stared at your soon to be scarred thigh. He pulls you close to him as he felt tears threatening to escape too, his eyes quickly tearing up at the thought of you being so miserable and he never noticed before. He thought he knew you so well.

Quickly got to his feet and brought back disinfectant and a bandage from your cabinet, taking a quick glance at your dull face, your eyes puffy from crying. He knelt down and straightened out your leg, wiping your wounds with disinfectant, making sure to be gentle. He hated to hear you in so much pain as you gasped and winced from the disinfectant entering your open cuts. He shushed you and apologises quickly, then went to litter your entire leg in kisses, giving a reason why he loves you for each cut you made that day.

He didn’t care how messy he got when he wrapped up your thigh, his hands now stained in your dry blood. All he cared about was you and your well being. If he knew, he would have stopped you and prevented all this pain from happening, but he didn’t know, and that obviously fake smile you’ve been forcing since he met you was becoming clearly obvious to him now as he eyed your exhausted eyes and pale skin, a constant frown plastered on your lips. He promises to you, he will keep you safe. Nothing will hurt you when he’s around, not even yourself. He doesn’t want to see any more scars on your pretty skin.

Beelzebub

Went downstairs for a midnight snack, like he usually does, but when he went past the knives, he noticed one of them were missing. Didn’t take any notice and went back upstairs to eat in his room. When he went past your door though, he heard a stifled sob and heavily breathing. He walked in to ask you what’s wrong and give you a hug but when he saw you on the floor with your head against the bed, your arms visible with several deep cuts, seeping blood, he froze and couldn’t take his eyes off your arms. He dragged his eyes away to see the missing knife next to you drenched in your blood. His breathing hitched and he shook, all he could do in that moment was mouth your name. But suddenly, his legs moved on their own and before he knew it, he was at your side, kicking the mnife away with his foot and hugging you to his chest, your tears staining his shirt as he pulled you closer into him.

His eyes never once left your arms, watching the blood trickle out and he felt so so scared of losing you. He grabbed your wrist and got up and rushed you to your bathroom, grabbing some bandages and running your arms under the tap, feeling bad when you wince in pain. He dried your arms off as gently as he could and wrapped the bandage around your arms slowly, keeping his eyes drawn to your face to see if he was hurting you. He held your wrapped arm in his hands for a while, peering down at it, still visible shook up.

He wrapped you in a blanket and rocked you in his arms for the rest of the night, listening to you cry silently and letting you use his shoulder to cry onto. He reminded you that you’ll be alright and he thought to him how he will never let this happen again, he will make sure you feel happy in his company and embrace. He’s never leaving you alone.

Belphegor

Noticed you were no longer by his side in bed anymore and sleepily went around the room to look for you, his eyes half open and drooping. He saw the bathroom light was on though the crack in the door, so he pushed open the door and half unconsciously reached around for your arm to pull you back in to bed. When he grabbed your arm, he heard you cry out in pain and his eyes shot open, scared he’d hurt you again. His hands felt sticky and when he looked down at them, they were covered in blood. His heart beat was racing as he thought he’d hurt you, but when he panicked and looked down to apologise, he saw you holding a pocket knife in your other hand and the blood that was stained onto his hands was from your arm, littered in long deep bloody cuts. His breathing became unsteady as he thought back to the last time he saw you bleeding, it was because of him. He dropped to his knees and crawled over to you, blood from the floor covering his clothes and palms, but he didn’t care as he reached out to touch your face, distress in both your eyes. He looked at the knife in disgust and hatred, kicking it across the room and hearing it hit the wall. He felt your arm and examined it, desperate to fix this.

He scrambled up to his feet to wet a damp rag and place it over your arm, gently wiping away the blood, stopping and asking you if it hurts when you made a pained face. He grabbed the bandages and quickly wrapped you up, making sure you aren’t in pain again. Then he grabbed at you, pulling you into his chest and squeezing you urgently. Listening to your loud muffled sobs as you cried into his skin. His heart hurt remembering the sight and he no longer felt tired anymore. He felt sick and worried.

He sat there for a good couple hours, on the bathroom floor, holding you in his embrace and shushing you, your tears dried onto his clothes and leaving a musky smell. How didn’t he notice. He spends every night with you. Have you been doing this right next door every night when he was asleep? He hates the thought and swears to protect you every second he can. He doesn’t care how much sleep he loses, as long as you’re ok, that’s all that matters to him.

DM’s are always open if anyone ever needs someone to talk or vent to. I know the feeling of thinking you have to harm yourself to feel better, but it’s not the only solution. Whoever you are, I love you and stay safe x

[astudyinfreewill]

alright so. 14x10 ‘nihilism’. written by yockey and directed by amanda tapping so i already knew i was in for a treat but holy shit.

it’s 2am and i am processing so this is neither exhaustive nor polished but uh. so michael traps dean inside his head and we get to see the fantasy he’s stuck in. hold that thought. 

let me just jump ahead to sam and cas getting inside dean’s head for a second. let me feel some type of way about cas noting - in a somewhat aghast way - the sheer amount of trauma in dean’s brain. like!!! you’d think cas knew, having pulled dean out of hell and everything, BUT. cas was very much just castiel then. an angel, more empathetic than most, with too much heart definitely, enough heart to start feeling for dean - but he didn’t know dean. he wasn’t in love with dean yet, or at least he didn’t feel that love in a human way. imagine cas now, with all the feelings and trappings of humanity, having to come to grips with the fact that dean’s mind holds that much horror and pain inside it. that’s a whole other level of heart-wrenching. like-- he knew dean had suffered but now he knows dean has suffered. it hits different. I have to wade through all of Dean's most terrible memories, he says, filled with dread.

(and then, of course, we get sam’s tragicomic statement that - well duh, of course michael wouldn’t keep dean HERE, dean thrives on trauma!!! because it’s all he’s ever known!!! like. the delivery is funny but the statement is deeply deeply heartbreaking).

so. they have to head towards contentment. and what does dean’s contentment look like?

a bar. not a bar to get wasted in but a bar that he owns. not a fancy bar, either, it’s kind of empty and dingy, because this is definitely not dean at his happiest; either the amount of stress and self-loathing he carries makes it impossible for him to envision true happiness even in his mind, or michael simply didn’t want him to be too content bc he’s a bitch like that. but still, the bar is his and he refuses to sell it. (I've never had anything this nice, he says, breaking my damn heart in the process). nice or not, the bar, ultimately, most importantly, is a place of his own, where he can be safe and provide shelter and hospitality to other people. a place where he’s not hunting (though he will still fight monsters if he has to). 

i repeat: HUNTING IS NOT PART OF DEAN’S CONTENTMENT. he will stay at the bar, and he will fight if necessary, and fight damn well, because he’s good at it. but mostly he will wait for his family to come home, and he will feed them and pour them drinks and shelter them from the pouring rain. do you get that??? do you understand how insane it makes me??? dean’s source of contentment being the obtaining of a home that he’s been yearning for since he was four and had it ripped from under him??? dean AS THE HOME, as the nurturer and carer and protector of the people he loves??? and like!!! a part of that contentment is specifically waiting FOR the people he loves to come back to him - to come home to him, because he wants to be somebody’s home!!!! (that he can’t really envision it happening until sam and cas crash into his mind is its own different brand of tragedy but i digress).

and of course, there’s pamela. pamela who’s been a fantasy before, but never an attainable one - pamela of the ‘jesse forever’ tattoo, pamela who teases threesomes and immediately negates them by being intentionally too outrageous and including sam in the suggestion. pamela is a safe and reassuring fantasy because dean can’t get her: because she’s taken or because she’s too much for him or because she’s dead or because she’s... plainly put, not what dean really wants. which, deep down? he KNOWS.

DEAN How come you always have a boyfriend?

PAMELA How come you only want what you can't have?

DEAN Whoa.

PAMELA Besides, you don't want me. You just like to flirt. I'm a psychic, so I kinda know.

DEAN All right.

isn’t that just. unhinged???? dean acknowledges that he wants what he can’t have. and he’s not talking about pamela, of course he’s not talking about pamela, a minor character who died all the way back in season 5. what he wants is the person he’s waiting for at the bar -- and who yet never seems to arrive (the person who’s always leaving, always leaving, and not nearly coming back enough). what he wants is the person that he thinks he can never have, because surely angels just don’t feel that way, right? when they try to care it breaks them apart. it can’t be. it can’t ever be, but he can wait for cas, in case he ever decides to come back, and he can pour him a drink when he does.

(this is even confirmed in a roundabout way by michael, because we know this michael blatantly lies: e.g. he tells sam dean was at his happiest when sam left him alone with their (neglectful, abusive) dad, when we know that dean was miserable. and he also tells cas dean only tolerates him out of obligation/gratefulness, so... pretty safe to say dean feels the opposite, and that in fact he very much wants cas for himself.)

my two main takeaways here are: one, that dean’s contentment - not even his perfect dream, not even his happy ending, but the baseline for dean’s contentment - depends on having a home of his own, quitting hunting, caring for his friends and the people he loves. so, you know, well fucking done on delivering that with the finale.

and two, that even in his own head, even when trapped in a fantasy that is literally trying to keep him from yearning for the outside world, dean is still just hoping for the bare minimum for himself, still always waiting for the people he loves to come back to him and stay, and he can’t even conceive of having what he truly wants -- what he’s waiting for, always endlessly and inevitably waiting for -- because the one thing he wants, it’s something (he thinks) he can’t have. sound familiar?

[lady-o-ren]

Moonstruck

Chapter One (Here) // Chapter Two (Here)

Chapter Two 

The wolf wasn't beneath the trees.

But his big feet make him easy to track, leading Claire and Caspian out of the wretched wood to a sea of wild hills that look like waves under the heavenly glow of the night sky. As they near two rolling mounds where the tracks drag against the earth, she sees a lonely crofter house nestled between them like a little boat, abandoned and shabby looking, but it's roof is still thatched and the stone walls still stand. Good enough really for a place to rest one's tired head. 

Yet Claire wonders why a wolf would seek a place so out in the open.

Better yet why anyone would seek out a wolf. 

"Because you're an absolute nutter, Beauchamp," says Claire to herself. " Or very possibly you're suffering a concussion." 

Swinging a leg off Caspian, she tugs on his reins with a warning to stay put and gathers a deep fortifying breath before stepping into the shadow of the house where the door hangs open.

Inside, shafts of bright silvery light illuminate the room, seeping in through the only window. There are cobwebs and dead leaves strewn about the place, emptied of almost everything except for a wobbly looking table by the soot stained hearth and a stool that must've been made for a child tucked into the corner. . .

Opposite of the big red wolf, eyes bright as stars in the pale blue dark.

Claire's breath quickens and her pulse jumps at her throat but she manages to keep her voice steady. Somewhat.

"We still have that deal don't we? You restrain yourself from biting my head off and I don't shoot you between the eyes."

A miserable sound echoes from the wolf's maw and that's answer enough for Claire. The floorboards creak beneath her as she shuffles about the room, finding a bit of flint left behind from vagrants come and gone and makes a pleased and grateful sound when the sparse bits of wood in the hearth catch fire. She then kneels down in front of him, fist outstretched and shaking as she chants -

"Please don't bite me. Please don't bite me. . ."

It's only when Claire feels something hot and wet swipe against her knuckles does she realize her eyes have been shut and she recoils in surprise,flat on her arse with a shriek. 

The wolf however snorts heartily.

“You're laughing at me aren't  you?” 

The corner of his long mouth quirks wryly as his bushy tail swings back and forth and Claire finds herself cracking a smile. The first of this very long and preposterous night.

"Well, a sense of humor must mean you have a heart after all. More so than Caspian anyways.”

And she hopes it means he isn't too badly injured.

Claire comes closer again and tentatively runs the back of her fingers against the wolf's broad crown, his dark copper fur soft against her skin, slanted eyes gone to slits. Encouraged now, she scratches behind his ears and the wolf makes a sound of pleasure from deep within his throat and drops his head onto her lap, sighing with heart filled contentment. She laughs softly with growing affection, her fingers finding their way underneath his great maw that makes his head upturn and tail to swish, swish.

"I don't care what you say you're a puppy and a sweet one too, aren't you?"

She then impulsively imparts a kiss atop his head and the wolf bumps his nose against her chin wanting another.

“Cheeky lad,” she murmurs warmly, but gives him another anyway.

However, she came here for a reason and that wasn't to cuddle a wolf.

Stroking her hand along his neck, that has him kicking out a long powerful hind leg, she says -

"I know I don't look it, but I know more than a thing or two about broken bones and gashes. Will you trust me to help you, even if it hurts?"

A beat passes before he licks at her wrist and she takes that as a show of trust and extricates herself from beneath the red wolf. Gently, she probes his back and ribs first and is amazed there's only a few marks from the bear, hardly deep at all. But then her hands pass over a crisscross of scars beneath his thick coat and her eyes meet his, searching.

“Someone's hunted you, haven't they?”

A frightful tremor crawls over him that grips at her heart and without thought she presses herself against him wishing she could ease whatever horror he was remembering.

“I hope you tore the bastard apart. Slowly. Bit by bit.”

His sides lightly shake and she knows it must be laughter.

Pushing her wayward curls behind her ear, Claire then touches him gingerly over his injured shoulder. The muscle is swollen and a part of her wonders if it's just a bad sprain. But she remembers that odd angle of his leg as he walked and how he nurses it close to himself now. 

“If you were a man I'd set your shoulder and wrap it in a sling. I've done so before though it's no small feat. But I haven't so for an animal much less a bear-sized wolf . . .” She sighs. Upset with herself.  Hand at her brow, the cut throbbing more so now. “There isn't much I can do without another pair of hands."

She looks helplessly at the wolf.

But there's no way for him to express to her that it's alright, he's suffered worse. And would gladly do so again and again if it meant keeping her from harm. This brown haired lass like no other woman he's ever seen before. Sae bonny and brave. 

So he nuzzles her palm and mouths the soft skin like the puppy she says he is and feels his heart swell and the pain in his arm to cease when a smile softly graces her face lovelier than a moonbeam.

Aye, she was worth it.

Claire leaves him for a moment to settle Caspian for the night in the old byre behind the crofter house and comes back with blankets from the horse's saddleroll, a flask and a fold of her cloak full of bittie yarrow leaves she'd found growing between the stones.

The flask is filled with brandy (courtesy of her former betrothed) that she douses torn strips of her gown with to clean the wolf's wounds (murmuring sweet things as she does so knowing how sharply it stings) while the yarrow leaves are mashed between her teeth and applied carefully like a salve. 

For his poor shoulder however, she says -

“I promise I'll figure out what to do in the morning. I owe it to you for saving me. Thank you by the way,” she softly adds, and scratches behind the wolf's ears as he likes until his eyes begin to droop and a long winded yawn escapes her mouth.

She's exhausted. Body bruised and aching from being tossed around like a ragdoll but she doesn't think she can sleep in a gown that's been slobbered and bloodied. So while the wolf is fast asleep, Claire undresses down to her chemise and stays and quickly wraps herself in one blanket while laying out the other for a makeshift bed, leaving her cloak to dry by the hearthfire.

Her ruined gown however she grasps in her hands.

No longer did it shine with promise. 

No longer was she to be a bride.

At least not for him. 

“The bloody two-faced fucking bastard,” Claire mutters angrily, tossing the damn garment across the floor to gather dust as a tear rolls down her chin. She then curls herself into a ball by the fire, shivering beneath the scratchy grey wool, and wrings her heart out of any lingering affection she's ever had for Frank Wolverton Randall by remembering the last moment she saw him. 

That morning of their wedding behind the church. Swaying on his feet as he groped a woman she could've sworn was his cousin. And then keeled over, grasping his manhood right after she kneed him.

If only they hadn't been on sacred ground she would've kicked him too.

But just maybe he pissed himself.

Lost in that ever pleasing hopeful thought, Claire is startled to feel a deep huff of breath cloud down her neck like steam and looks up to see the red wolf looming above her.

"You absolute fool," she scolds, though it's spoken without bite as she sits up to cradle his face with both her hands. " You're only making things worse for that shoulder of yours."

The wolf doesn't care. He nuzzles her cheek where the brokenhearted tear had fallen, making a sad whimpering sound as he does so that endears him evermore to Claire's heart.

 "No use arguing with a stubborn wolf is there?" 

There isn't. He licks the side of her face making her softly giggle before plopping down beside her with a heavy thunk and Claire can do nothing more but sink down against him, his fur radiating a tender warmth that seeps into her tired bones.

//

Claire wakes with the morning light that floods the room and stings her eyes that immediately shutter close behind the back of her arm.

While embers have kept the room bearable, she knows the only reason she hasn't woken with a sniffle is because of the heavy, heated weight that engulfs her like a brushfire. Drowsily, she lets her hand wander to the furry head atop her chest that rises steadily with a deep inhale of smokey air and then strokes softly down until her palm oddly meets naked flesh. . .

Her eyes bolt open and through the sleepy blur she sees a stranger, big and naked draped across her, mumbling something hot-breathed and incoherent as he smothers his face between her breasts right before she screams.