#i have crippling insomnia

[yay-depression]

if someone else without a sleep disorder gives me “sleep tips” i will no longer be responsible for my actions

[blackbackedjackal]

I love having ADHD. I get to hyperfocus on obscure shit to the point that I become a walking Wikipedia about the history of underwater cave diving certification and proper hoof cleaning techniques for horseys.

[nightyraven-art]

I hate dealing with anxiety and anger issues

One second I'd be worried and then I get angry because anxiety makes me impatient and usually I'm often calm and patient but anxiety makes look like I'm the opposite and it's frightening to just be patient when I'm anxious-

Then it's a mix of embarrassment and anxiety because I make myself a fool...

[chewingonsneakers]

i just had such a gay midwest emo thought that it actually shocked me because tell me why i’m sleeping in my bf’s hoodie and when i woke up the moment i pulled the hood back on my brain goes “i’m sorry i stole it but it still smells like the cheap cigarettes we smoked at the halloween party” THE WAY I FROZE.

in all seriousness that’s what it smells like and it’s making me melt. never been a huge user of the word cuddling n yet it has never sounded so necessary. he’s four hours away

[slightlyreanimatedchaos]

Wow! Learning so much today! Like how I managed to never tell my psychiatrist that I have disabling migraines and chronic pain daily, even though it started after I started seeing her and has been going on for over a year! And I learned what migraine auras were, that I have them, and that it is in fact not how everyone sees light! AND I learned that my depression is worse than I thought (I’ve been dissociating and not checking in with myself)! What a wonderful day of learning 😌✨

[mc-260627]

what ever happened to tunga posting? :(

Turns out when you [feel bad] it gets reflected back into the draconian facsimile that inhabits your brain. There's stray recent depictions of the beasts here and there but I've opted to not share the projected torment because it feels cruel.

Have this one which isn't afflicted by ailments. It's playing animal jam

[spiritmoon23]

Host brother is awake I officially did not sleep tonight thanks god

[mxro-x]

Dorcas: I’m Cas and I fell in love with a Gryffindor, I brought licorice wands

Regulus: I’m Regulus and I am the forced heir to the noble house of black, I brought Sugar Quills

Evan: My names Evan and I have crippling nightmares and insomnia, I brought Jelly Slugs

Barty: I’m Bartimus and I’m secretly in love with my best friend, I brought chocolate frogs

Evan: wHAT

[adore-laur]

sorry if there are any mistakes english is not my first language!

dadrry idea - harry and y/n together with the children go to a get-together at a restaurant with friends and family and in the middle of the get-together the younger baby starts crying with hunger just as the food arrives and harry goes out of his way to help y/n /n to eat while y/n breastfeeds, and to help the older baby eat too! you can add something if you want

——

You were at a new restaurant Harry had picked out for lunch, and you didn't know if it was the humidity in the air, but you had two incredibly fussy children wanting to make your first outing as a family of four a tricky one. The outdoor seating area was packed with people taking advantage of the weekend's beautiful weather. You counted yourself lucky to have found any available seating at all. You suspected Harry might have pulled a few strings since he knew the business and employees well, but he kept his lips tightly zipped.

Going to a restaurant used to be an untroubled experience before you had kids together. It was a simple sequence—sit down, order drinks and a meal, and talk without any disruptions. When the first baby came, supervising a newborn in any public place hadn't been without its fair share of stressful moments. Many trips to the bathroom to breastfeed or change a diaper made you feel prickly with anxiety. There was also the crippling fear of your baby having a piercingly loud meltdown and potentially annoying the people around you. It was why you relied on Harry to make these trips with you, whether it was grocery shopping, a stroll through the park, or going out to eat. You needed him to be the calming force. You needed his gentle methods of diffusing the cries.

When the second baby came along while your first was at the peak toddler stage, the mere thought of going to a restaurant or the store by yourself was daunting. Horrible thoughts battered your brain. What if a temper tantrum happens? What if I lose one of them? What if they get kidnapped right in front of my eyes? Progressively, the thoughts became more unrealistic, but they successfully kept you from venturing out alone with the two vulnerable halves of your heart. You wouldn't risk their safety by selling yourself as overconfident in terms of your motherly capabilities.

Now, you had your toddler incessantly saying "mom" while your three-month-old newborn squirmed in your arms, quietly whimpering near your breast and awfully close to making her cries known to every single person in the restaurant. Harry sat across from you, your eldest by his side with an abandoned coloring sheet crumpled in front of her. Phase One of her tantrum involved throwing a fit over the restaurant not providing a magenta-colored crayon. She whined and sulked until Harry set her on his lap and distracted her by having her recite the colors of the rainbow in order. It worked, but only for a moment.

Phase Two was when you were dragged into it. You had been to blame for her coloring sheet disaster, and while you simply told her that magenta wasn't a common color, she knocked over her sippy cup in protest of your reasonable explanation. She expected you to have the answer to every question in the universe.

Phase Three was happening right now. Her desperate attempts to get your attention were needling under your skin and whittling away at your patience. The meals hadn't been served yet, and the hunger and heat you felt were like little volcanoes waiting to erupt. One more spike of overstimulation, and you'd lose the last shreds of your poise.

You shifted in your seat, and when your newborn let loose that first wail, you stared at the cloudless sky and swallowed roughly. When you looked back down, you saw Harry eyeing you with steady focus. He knew the exhaustion was catching up. Last night had been full of anxiety and insomnia, which never paired well. It was a rarity that you were able to muster the energy to step out of the house today.

"Do you want to go to the car?" Harry asked, knowing the telltale signs of a hungry baby all too well.

You shook your head. "I can feed her right here."

He grabbed the nursing cover from under the stroller and handed it to you. Your eldest was stretching her limbs impatiently, still on his lap, and you were counting down the seconds until she became overwhelmed too.

After putting the nursing cover on and letting your baby latch, the food arrived. It looked delectable, but your appetite had somehow vanished within the past ten minutes. With the mind-body connection, you assumed your stress and frazzled hormones were messing with your stomach.

While you held the baby, Harry stabbed his fork into your tossed salad and brought a serving of iceberg lettuce and cherry tomatoes up to your mouth. "Eat," he said softly.

You could handle small bites, so you accepted his offering and munched on the crispy vegetables. It was a meal just light enough to settle nicely.

Back and forth, Harry fed you, his eldest, and also himself. She was calmer now, more interested in her kid-size chicken tenders than whatever she was angry about. In her floral summer dress and pigtails, she was a cute little menace. The toddler stage was chaotic, but in the best way.

Your mind drifted to Harry as you watched him make your daughter laugh with his silly antics, her lips no longer pouting. He had the dad thing down pat when his girls got fussy, yet he always checked in with you first to make sure you were all right. He knew your emotions lingered longer than a child's brief outburst, so you appreciated his attentiveness now more than ever.

After lunch, which had thankfully been peaceful once everyone's bellies were full, you all walked along the nearby Santa Monica coast to soak up the sunshine and refreshing ocean breeze.

Harry had the baby cuddled against his chest in a sling, which was a miracle worker for nap time, while you pushed the stroller with a nearly asleep toddler in it. You guessed tantrums were exhausting sometimes—hopefully, that meant the car ride home would be serene.

"Harry," you said from beside him. He never liked walking in front of or behind you. "Thank you for earlier."

He glanced over, practically glowing under the sun's mild presence. "What did I do?"

With a smile reserved just for him, you answered, "You take care of us." Guilt got the best of you when you added, "And I'm sorry for not being able to step up to the plate."

It consumed you in your weakest moments, but you didn't have to deal with it alone. Harry was there to shoulder it and shelf it for later.

"Sweetheart, you're the one who gave me these babies," he said, reaching his hand out for yours. You took it, and you instantly felt grounded. "You're the one who keeps them fed and growing healthy. You will always be the most important person to them."

"It's hard to believe it sometimes."

Harry squeezed your hand three times. "Then I'll be here to remind you every day. We'd be lost without you."

——

[cultpastorkevin]

Cult Tips for AFTG writers

notes from the resident ex-cult pastor

If you’re in the cult, there is nothing bizarre abt what’s happening and in fact the normal stuff that happens outside of it is what’s bizarre to you. Target? Weird. McDonald’s? Even weirder. I can like guarantee Jean and Kevin never had McDonald’s until they left the Nest.

When you leave, you’re gonna be paranoid as fuck. All the time. Ngl at least for weeks but sometimes for years. Nightmares and insomnia 24/7. Hallucinations too lmao Riko is in every corner of empty rooms and you can hear his voice echo in the confines of the lockers.

I see a lot of Jean wanting to go back to the Nest, but not a lot of Kevin wanting to go back. He definitely struggled, 100%. In fact when he was in the pits of agony from his broken hand, was when he probably wanted to go back the most. Cult is home, cult is safe. Four walls you’ve always known and while it’s a cage at least it’s dependable. They hurt you but by god it always works out and the reward of pushing through this tragic incident is greater than the terror it caused in the first place. It’s a gift, actually. A gift from Riko. He saved Kevin. Cults save you. Cults make you wanna return to them like damn homing pigeons bruh. Give me more shattered hand Kevin screaming at Wymack to let him go back home and having a breakdown when he’s denied fics thanks

Piggybacking off the last one: cults are saviors; you’re nothing without them and they make sure you truly believe that; that everything that is done to you is for you and you’re blessed for it to be happening. You’re lucky even, to be allowed in it. Everything is as it’s supposed to be and order must never be challenged, because it works, and you’re the Edgar Allan Ravens, and this is the most honorable place you could be. All the pain you go through is you earning the right to be saved and to prove your worth every day on court. Only the worthy are honored.

You justify everything that happened and you will start fights and get angry with people who try to correct you and tell you it was wrong what went on.

On the other hand, you blame yourself for everything ever that happened there whether you were at fault or not. Hurting others, hurting yourself, gaslighting the fuck out of yourself over things maybe you could’ve prevented and over things you never could’ve stopped. The guilt is crippling and it eats you alive and haunts you.

There’s a lot of shame too. I see more guilt written than shame but shame is a huge portion of emotions that cult survivors have. Shits embarassing dude like “god how did I end up thinking this wack ass shit was normal” 😐 Shame comes later in the healing process usually, it’s after you have come to terms with shit that’s happened and you understand it. Looking back, you go “Jesus fucking Christ that was a red flag what the hell. Should’ve left then, or then, or then, or then” and then you’re just plain fuckin embarrassed.

Please look up how hive minds and brainwashing are created and work; also Stockholm Syndrome; understanding these would be incredibly helpful tbfh.

Diets are big; everyone eats the same thing; food is used as a reward and a punishment.

Hype hype hype. They whip up a frenzy of one singular emotion and use that to push you into a blind hysteria because you’re more suspectible to their influence when you’re out of your mind.

Drugs. Depends on the cult. But yeah these little bitches can be a huge factor for shit and can help with the brainwashing and hysteria and stockholm. Sometimes you don’t even know you’re being drugged or poisoned until you leave.

OH I ALMOST FORGOT. Dehumanization and then being treated like a person again can be traumatic as fuck yall!! Holy shit! Sometimes it feels worse than being dehumanized!

EDIT AGAIN: you don’t know what mental illness is !! Cults don’t fucking tell you these things lmao. if you show symptoms it’s your fault. Kevin being depressed his mom died was gonna get blamed on him and he was never going to be told grief is normal and it’s okay to be insanely sad. Jean also never got told his anger was correct or his trauma responses to being raped were realistic! They just got blamed for any reactions ever that weren’t neurotypical !! that is all; do with that what you will.

Idk if I think of anything else I’ll write another one but that’s all for now; I haven’t slept much lmao 🫡

[lafemmemacabre]

I'm an autistic + cripple Latine lesbian without personal income and I REALLY need to buy meds, new contacts and a few smaller necessities.

My donations have completely stalled (I only have 5 USD in my Paypal account that have been sitting there for weeks, that's too little money to transfer to my bank account considering there's a fee to that transaction) and I've felt bad about possibly making a new donation post for myself since my family and my best friend are in direr need and I'm mainly promoting those, but I literally only have 105 CLP in my bank account rn (0.13 USD).

I ran out of my sleep medication to treat my INSANE insomnia weeks ago. I cannot stress enough how important decent quality sleep is for someone like me who experiences disabling chronic fatigue. One of the meds that helps with my sleep is also the med that treats my tachycardia, and now that I've been off of it for over a week I keep getting so many fucking tachycardia episodes even while laying down. I also want to just go get checked up now that I'm finally registered in public healthcare/FONASA.

I've had to get new contacts since October of last year (mine last me a month, I've been wearing September's pair since then until now that it's June). They're stained in a way I can't clean off without risk of tearing them so everything has a white blur on it and it's drying my eyes so much. I can't go without visual correction as I have the eyesight of a fucking mole.

My butch does work full time but with them being the sole bread-winner and their salary barely being enough for bills, groceries and very small treats here and there, I really don't want to ask them to pay for these things (hence why I still don't have my meds and contacts).

Anything helps!

Paypal • Ko-fi

[dontbesoweirdkira]

“I’ll keep you safe in these arms of mine”

A/N: A short ooc drabble of Kung Lao comforting a partner with insomnia/slight noctiphobia leaning towards somniphobia. This is totally not personal at all….

Warnings: none

Requests: always open for my bbgurls

Masterlist

Nights have always been rough on you for as long as you can remember. Was it the fear of something sinister and mysterious lurking in the corner of your room while you slept? Or was it the worry of a horrible dream coming to torment your mind all night?

It wasn’t clear, but what you did know is that as the night drew near and it was time to rest, you increasingly became uneasy.

It didn’t help that most nights, Kung Lao was gone, tirelessly training around the clock. You’d rarely see him these days and missed him greatly through the daunting nights alone. He didn’t know about your nightly troubles. You never really wanted him to worry about your wellbeing more than he already does, especially now with him being away from home.

Usually you’d keep on all the lights in the house while he was gone and drown yourself with “positive” overststimulation. You’d stay up throughout the night watching childhood movies, playing music, and doing various activities. Honestly just anything to try to keep your mind occupied and off of your crippling anxieties about the world around you.

Tonight though, your partner was going to be home which meant that maybe..for the first time in a while you could actually sleep through the night. Excitedly, you waited in your shared bedroom for Kung Lao to arrive. Only to be left there waiting, hours past his supposed arrival time…

“Sorry I took so long, dear. I needed to stay back and help a struggling student out—“

Your Kung Lao had finally come through the door and began talking his hat and gear off

“—how was your day? Better than mine I suppose?.”

He smiled weakly over at you while he tirelessly threw his shoes off.

“It was nice. I’m very happy that you’re back because I-“

Cutting you off, leaned over the bed and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Me too, I missed you…and this bed. I’m absolutely beaten.”

He let out an exhaustive sigh and apologized for cutting your reunion short but that he could barely keep his eyes open much longer. Turning out the light, he sheepishly laid the rest of his body onto the bed and shortly thereafter he was fast asleep.

You felt for him. He was doing extremely taxing things with little to no breaks. He was passionate about his new found work with the Shaolin. Eager to do great things. But anyone, even someone as talented as he, is destined to be this tired after all of that effort. You could hardly blame him for rushing to get some actual rest for once.

It just kind of sucked though. You hoped that he would've been home a lot sooner so you guys could’ve chatted a little longer. You planned for a movie, maybe some snacks or some other activity to hopefully help with your anxiety before actually having to go to bed …but it’s okay. He was here and that alone made a huge difference in your comfortability. Enough so that you were able to get in a bit of shut eye before jolting up from a night terror.

You panted and panickedly looked around the room. Frightened that whatever that was happening inside your dream, might’ve followed you back inside your room. Looking over to your right, you saw Kung Lao safe, and still peacefully sleeping. You took a moment to breathe and ground yourself back into reality. Trying to ignore the utter darkness around you and the eeriness of it all. You knew how much it wanted to devour you alive.

You couldn’t do your late night ritual of overstimulation of media and lights, as to not wake your boyfriend up from his long deserved slumber. In a childish attempt in desperation, you tossed the covers over you both and curled up into a ball. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you tightly wrapped your arms over your arms over them. Holding onto them for dear life and whispering encouragements in an attempt to soothe yourself from your own insanity.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m safe—“

You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, waiting for the night to just go away so you’d be fine again. You thought about going into the living room so you could watch your shows there but, that’d mean you’d have to go out from your safety cocoon and into the darkness to get there…no way

Even thought about just scrolling on your phone but only God knew where it was right now— many possible solutions bounced around your head as you thought of a way to make things better when something tugged on your clothes.

Snapping out of the trance of your mind, you turned your head over towards the direction of the tug and faced your boyfriend. You started to apologize for having thought to disturb him when surprisingly, a light chuckle was let out

“Are you scared, my bunny?”

You softly let out shaky no. As much a you did want his comfort, you decided against it. He was tired enough as it is, last thing he needed was to be kept up by your foolishness.

Even though Kung Lao was half asleep and barely had one eye open, he was fully aware of your current state. Your white lie was easily seen through and he spoke once more,

“Don’t have to lie about it. I could feel you shaking...Come’re—“

He used whatever bit of strength he had left in his to motion you over and pull you in close his body. He then engulfed you with his big arms and Kung Lao’s once lethal hands, turned gentle as they rubbed your back. His entire being was warm, especially the crook of his neck where your head rested. Though a bit musky from training, his scent was a subtle woodsy spice. One that made you instantly sink deeper into his embrace and faded away your previous anxieties.

“You don’t have to worry about anything. The Great Kung Lao is mighty enough to protect you in his sleep.”

With him you were always safe. Even in the darkness parts of your mind, he’d come to save you from it.

[sequinsmile-x]

Aftertaste

Everything changes in an instant. The pleasant warmth she’d been feeling, the arousal burning in her veins, immediately replaced by ice, panic washing over her at the combination of the whiskey on his breath and the compliment that had once belonged to another man.

Emily has a panic attack.

-x-

Hi friends,

This is another one of those ideas that kind of came to me on a night when I couldn't sleep. (I'm currently doing the very grown up thing of buying my first home and the anxiety is crippling so your gal isn't sleeping.) So, welcome to another part of the insomnia chronicles.

Please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: Trauma, PTSD, panic attack

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He was even softer than she thought he’d be. 

She’d known him long enough to have seen it. To see the tender way he treated his son, how he’d been the same with Haley during the few times Emily had seen them as a couple. For years she allowed herself the fantasy of how he’d be with her, how he’d be gentle in a way no one else would ever know she wanted or needed. He’d exceeded her expectations over the last few weeks, treating her like she was made of something precious but never tripping over into treating her like she was fragile. 

She already knew she was in love with him, had known it for much longer than she cared to admit even to herself, but she couldn’t say it yet. The words trapped in her chest, buried under the rubble of all those that came before him, all those who had helped forge the walls she’d built around herself, the tools first handed to her by her mother before she was old enough to understand. 

She can’t bring herself to let go of him, her arms wrapped around him from behind, her cheek pressed against his shoulder as he digs through his pockets for the key to his apartment. 

“You said Jack is with Jess tonight?” She murmurs, kissing him through his jacket, breathing in the comforting scent of him, the vibration of his response passing back from his chest into hers. 

“Yes, she’s bringing him home in the morning,” he replies, pushing the door open before he turns in her arms, his smile soft as he presses it against hers, his hands on her lower back as he spins them, gently pushing her into the apartment first, “He said he’s excited for breakfast with you tomorrow,” he kisses her cheek before he unwraps himself from around her to lock his front door, “I told him we’d go to that diner he likes.”

Emily smiles nervously, an uncharacteristic shake to it, “And you’re sure-”

“Em,” he says, cutting her off with an understanding grin. He’d assured her more than once that Jack loved her, that he always wanted to spend time with her, especially now she was his father’s girlfriend, “I think you’re his favourite person on the planet. He loves spending time with you.” 

She presses her lips together to try to contain her smile, her cheeks warm with love for both of them, “I love spending time with him too.”

He hums, his hands on her hips as he tugs her closer, “Just him?”

Her smile turns teasing, her tongue pressed against the back of her teeth as she shrugs, “You too I guess.” 

He swallows her yelp as he pulls her into a kiss, his hands moving to her back as they lose themselves in each other. When he breaks the kiss he rests his forehead against hers, “Drink?” 

She nods, her tongue peeking out to lick her lower lip, chasing the taste of him whilst he grabs her hand and leads her towards the couch. As soon as she’s sitting down he tries to move, his hand slipping out of hers, but she stops him, the thought of not touching him too much to bear. She kisses him, a hand on each of his cheeks as he leans over the couch, holding him in place as he boxes her in. She stamps another kiss against his lower lip as he pulls away, smiling as she nips at the plushness of it, “I’ll take that drink now.”

He smiles, his dimples forming under her touch, the perfect size for her thumbs to sit, and he nods, “Do you want anything in particular or shall I surprise you?” 

She hums as she lets him go, feeling oddly bereft when he steps away, leaving coolness in his place as he walks the short distance to the bar cart, “What have you got?” 

“Well, Dave got me some whiskey for my birthday last year that I’ve never opened,” he says, reaching past the bottles neatly lined up on the front of the cart, “It always seemed too nice to drink alone, but…”

She stops hearing him when he shows her the bottle. The red glass momentarily makes her freeze, and the small gold bird on the label pulls her back in time. Aaron’s deep honey-coloured eyes are briefly replaced with icy blue ones, a flash of the past in between blinks that makes her breath catch in her chest. 

“Em, are you okay?”

She swallows thickly and looks at him, already nodding before she’s really sure, “I’m fine,” she says as she forces a smile, carrying on before he can ask again, “That’s an expensive bottle. Dave must have dropped at least a $1,000 on it.” 

He nods as he pulls the tag in the red foil around the neck of the bottle, “He told me it was $1,150,” he smiles wryly, “He likes to tell me how expensive things are in an attempt to make me feel uncomfortable,” his smile gets wider as she laughs, some of the tension in her chest easing, “I didn’t know you knew anything about speciality whiskeys.” 

Her mouth goes dry, her tongue heavy as she tries and fails to think of a way to respond. She didn’t know about whiskey, not really, but she knew this one. It was Ian’s favourite, something she was sure had everything to do with the price tag attached to it rather than the taste of the liquor itself. He’d always loved the finer things in life, always wanted the most expensive looking thing possible to improve his image. She knew she had counted as one of those things. It was why he’d bought her only the best clothes, never asking once if she liked any of them before he presented her with them, dressing her up as if she belonged to him. 

The scar on her chest aches, burning as if it were fresh, the smell of charred flesh briefly filling her senses before Aaron sinks on the couch next to her, passing her one of the glasses in his hand - a generous measure of whiskey in each. 

“Thanks,” she says, smiling as she takes it, staring at the amber liquid, “You know, I would have been happy with a normal $40 bottle of whiskey. They all taste the same over that price point anyway.” 

“I know,” he replies as he leans in to kiss her, the scent of his cologne washing over her, replacing anything else as she sinks into it, turning so she curls into his side, her hand on his thigh. His eyebrows knit together as he pulls back, a flicker of concern thrumming under his skin as she practically clings to him, her grip on his leg tight, “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

She nods, watching as he takes a swig of his drink, her gaze fixed on his Adam's apple when it shifts as he swallows. She doesn’t want to get into it, doesn’t want Ian to ruin what had been a perfect date with her boyfriend by bringing him up, his presence already having inevitably wormed into their very first one just a few weeks ago when Aaron saw her naked for the first time. He swore he only saw her, his touch gentle and kind as he skimmed his fingers over her scars. She hadn’t believed him until he took off his shirt and she saw his, Foyet the furthest thing from her mind as she took in how beautiful he was. 

She’s moving before she thinks about it, grabbing the glass from him and placing it down with hers on the coffee table. Before he can question what she’s doing she’s straddling him, her knees bracketing his hips as she sinks into his lap. She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him before he can say anything else, sighing contentedly when he wraps his arms around her, his fingertips from his spanned-out hands almost touching each other over her spine.  She can taste the whiskey on his tongue but it’s chased by him, the final notes of it something she was already used to and aching to have for the rest of her life. 

He encourages her upwards, his hands squeezing her hips as they stand together, moving in tandem as he ends up behind her, his chest against her back, “Bedroom.” 

She’s so focused on him, on the way his palm is warm through the material of her dress, on his lips pressing against her collarbone, that she simply nods in response. Sure her voice would give away how much she wanted him, her desire lodged in her throat. When they make it to his room he turns her, his touch gentle yet insistent as he tugs her dress over her head, his pupils blown wide as he looks her up and down. 

“Beautiful,” he mumbles, the word half pressed against her lips as he encourages her backwards, the back of her knees hitting the bed as he guides her down, his hands on her back as she arches up into him, “So beautiful.” 

She’d always been complimented on her appearance. It started before she was old enough to understand the currency of it. Men her mother was friends with telling her she was pretty before she knew how her face and her body would be both something she could weaponise as well as something that could be used against her. Ian had always called her gorgeous. The word spat out amongst curse words whenever they fucked, the compliment she’s sure he meant lost somewhere along the way. 

Aaron always called her beautiful. It made her skin flush, warmth spreading from her cheeks down her neck whenever he said it, and something about the way he looked at her made her believe him every time. A sense of awe shining back at her as if he was looking at a piece of priceless art in a museum, hidden behind glass she’d placed in front of herself after one too many people had tried to ruin her. 

She smiles and pulls him in for a kiss, spreading her legs so he can settle between them, the weight of him against her as much of a comfort as anything else. She hooks a leg around him, smirking as their kiss breaks and he ruts his hips against hers, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as their eyes meet, 

“Do you like the lingerie?” She asks, even though she knows the answer, the heavy weight of him against her hip obvious even through his pants, “I bought it for you.” 

He growls at the admission as he looks her up and down, taking in the forest green lace cupping her breasts and hugging her hips, and pride pulses through her. The fact she could do this to him, the most controlled man she’d ever met, enough to make her burst. He leans in, his kiss more passionate this time, forceful in a way that makes her moan, and she holds him closer. He pulls back just enough to speak, his breath skipping across her face. 

“You’re gorgeous.” 

Everything changes in an instant. The pleasant warmth she’d been feeling, the arousal burning in her veins, immediately replaced by ice, panic washing over her at the combination of the whiskey on his breath and the compliment that had once belonged to another man. She can smell smoke and fear and burned flesh and she feels herself folding inwards, her chest collapsing as Aaron’s weight above her is suddenly oppressive. She’s brought back the moment he kisses her neck, a shiver passing through her for all the wrong reasons as she shies away from it, her hands forceful on his shoulders, her foot now pushing at his hip, as she tries to get free. 

“Stop,” she chokes out, her voice sounding nothing like her own, “Aaron, stop.” 

She needn’t have asked the second time, he was already moving, but she does. She barely looks at him as she scrambles off the bed, her chest tight as she tries to breathe. 

“Em? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

She ignores his questions and looks for an exit, her eyes land on the door to the en-suite and she’s moving before she can think about it, her legs carrying her of her own accord. She slams the door shut behind her and locks it, the heavy wood muffling his continued attempts to talk to her. She turns and leans against it, her head hitting it with a heavy thunk before she sinks to the floor, the cool tile against her ass and thighs a stark reminder she was only wearing her lingerie. 

She hugs her legs to her chest and rests her forehead on her knees as she encourages herself to breathe. 

“Em?” 

A shaky breath rattles in her chest, “Aaron.”

She can hear how it sounds as close to begging as she’s ever come to with him, desperation laced into every syllable. She knows he hears it too as he replies, his voice soft and even as if he’s purposely trying to make himself small to not intimidate her, even through the door. 

“I’m not going to force my way in or make you talk to me, I just need to know if you’re hurt, sweetheart.” 

Guilt swells in her chest, the fear and concern leaking from him makes its way to the door between them, causing it to swell and warp to the point she’s briefly worried she’ll never get out, stuck on this side of the space she’s forced between them.

She swallows thickly, “I’m not hurt.” 

There’s a beat of silence that draws out around her, almost long enough that she thinks he’s left until he speaks, “I’ll leave something for you to wear out here. I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.” 

She doesn’t respond, doesn’t know how to, his kindness almost cutting, making her feel worse for a reaction to something she hadn’t known would trigger her. She doesn’t know how long she sits there on his bathroom floor, the coolness of the tile against her skin something she hangs on to, an anchor in reality, as she reminds herself that Ian is gone. She’d watched him die. That he’d lost and she’d won and now she had this. A man she knew loved her even though neither of them had said it yet. A man who had looked devastated at the thought of hurting her, his pained expression something she’d caught even in the height of her panic. 

She eventually scrambles off of the floor, her legs slightly shaky beneath her, and she unlocks the door and steps out into the bedroom. She walks over to the bed and sees her discarded dress folded neatly next to a pair of his boxers and her favourite shirt of his. It makes her ache that he’s given her options even in this - the comfort of him or herself - when he doesn’t understand what has happened. She slips on his clothes, taking the time to bury her face against the collar of his shirt, breathing him in, letting it wash over her before she leaves the bedroom. 

He’s sitting on the couch when she makes it to the living room, the bottle of whiskey no longer on the table, hidden away back in it’s place on the bar cart. The glasses are gone too, and she spots them on the draining board. She briefly wonders if he drank any more of the whiskey, but then she smells the coffee in the air and then she sees the half drunk mug of it in front of him. She can picture him cleaning to keep himself busy whilst she sat on his bathroom floor, spurred on by worry for her that stopped him from sitting still, deciding to make coffee that she hopes is decaf just to pass more time. 

He looks over at her, his elbows resting on his knees. He looks wrung out, stress painted into the fine lines on his face, and she watches as he tries to force himself to relax, rolling his shoulders as he tries to shrink his frame. She blows out a breath and walks over, the cuffs of his shirt wrapped around her hands as she sits on the coffee table, his knees bracketing hers as she wraps her arms around herself, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she finds the words she’s looking for.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I…I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head and his hand twitches, reaching out for her before he stops himself, his hand forming a fist by his side, “You have nothing to apologise for, Em,” he says, his voice rough, “I just…what happened?” 

She knows if she said she didn’t want to talk about it that he’d drop it, that he’d let it go at least for now, and for a moment she’s tempted. Old habits that died hard calling her back, the empty promises the always offered her a lure she could never quite say no to, somehow never learning that the loneliness they brought weren’t worth the independence they gave her. She shakes it off because she doesn’t want to do that. She wants to tell him, wants him to know this part of her, to let him learn with her the parts of the new version of herself with her. 

She reaches out and grabs his hand, smiling softly as she links their fingers together, “I need you to understand this wasn’t your fault,” she starts with, squeezing his hand tighter when he frowns before he forces a tight nod, “The whiskey?” She says, biting the inside of her cheek, “It was Ian’s favourite. He drank it most nights.” 

Aaron’s hand loosens it grip on hers, the his shoulders slump no longer a conscious attempt to make himself small and unimposing, but his natural reaction to causing her any kind of discomfort. 

“Em,” he breathes out, her name like oxygen he can’t afford to lose as he shakes his head, “Why didn’t you tell me before I opened it? I never would have-”

“I know,” she assures him, wrapping both of her hands around his, “I know, but I didn’t think it would…” she presses her lips together and shakes her head, “I didn’t know that would happen.” She almost doesn’t tell him the rest of it, his reaction to just the whiskey itself enough to break her heart, to cause fractures he had healed to split back open. She knows she has to if she wants this to work, that she doesn’t want to put either of them in this position again, “He…he always called me gorgeous when we were…” she closes her eyes, embarrassment she knows she shouldn’t feel colouring her cheeks, “When we had sex. He’d always call me that. And-”

“I called you gorgeous,” he says, only remembering that he had as she says it, something he’d mumbled against her skin in the heat of the moment.

She nods, her gaze meeting his again, “I think that mixed in with the smell of the whiskey triggered something in my brain,” she hates that she can feel tears burning in her eyes, that this makes her feel so vulnerable in front of a man she’d already been intimate with, but she doesn’t try and stop it, disconnecting one of her hands from around his to wipe her cheek as the tears fall. 

“Sweetheart, I am so sorry,” he rasps, sounding close to tears himself, and she moves forward, sitting on the edge of the table so her knees are jammed up against the couch, her forehead against his, the last bit of tension in her chest dissipating at the smell of coffee on his breath, “I didn’t know.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, honey,” she assures him, “I didn’t know that was going to happen, so how could you?”

He kisses her forehead, the first time he’s touched her of his own accord since she’d walked into the living room, and then he pulls her as close as he can in the strange embrace they’d found themselves in, “We know now.” 

She smiles softly at the firmness in his tone, as if he was determined to remove the word gorgeous from his vocabulary entirely and swear he’d never drink expensive whiskey again. 

She captures his lips in a quick kiss, “Yeah, we know now,” she kisses him again before she stands, encouraging him backwards until she can sit in his lap, her knees on either side of his hips, a position they’d been in just before this all started. Instead of initiating a kiss she curls herself up, her cheek against his chest as she wraps herself around him, intent on being as close as possible. “Thank you for…stopping so quickly,” she says, her smile tight as she pulls away just enough to look up at him, unsure why she feels something close to embarrassed, “I appreciate it.” 

He frowns, the line between his eyebrows so deep she can’t help but reach out and soothe it, her thumb pressed against the bridge of his nose, “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

She thinks she somehow falls even more in love with him because of how incredulous he looks, and she stops herself from telling him, already feeling far too exposed for one evening, “Aaron, honey, you remember what we do for a living right?” She runs her fingers through his hair, “Not everyone stops.” 

He tightens his hold on her, questions she knows he won’t ask now pressed against her skin through the thin material of the shirt that she is wearing, “If there is ever anything else…” he says, his jaw tight, a ripple of self hatred passing through it, “You’ll tell me?” 

She nods pushing her fingers through his hair again, “Unless you take up smoking and dealing in the illegal weapons trade, I think we’ll be okay,” she jokes, her smile faltering when his lips barely twitch with it, the heaviness of what had happened dragging the corners of it down, “I’ll tell you,” she assures him, her lips catching the edge of his jaw as she leans in, determined to remove the tension from it, “I promise.” 

He kisses the top of her head, holding her close, touching her like she was made of glass, “Shall we get some sleep?” 

She knows this isn’t the end of this, that there is more to discuss beyond what had happened tonight, things they still had to learn about each other, but for now she wants it to be over. Wants to fall asleep in his arms, her face pressed against his neck. Comforted by the knowledge that even if her blue eyed monster visited her in her dreams, the smell of whiskey and danger the harbinger she may never truly be free from, that she’d wake up to Aaron and the love he gave her so freely. A debt she’d always repay without question, taking it in turns to be each other’s solid ground. 

“Yeah,” she says, kissing him, “Let’s get some sleep.” 

___

When she wakes up in the morning, she’s alone in bed, the coolness of the sheets only improved by the smell of him lingering on them. 

She wanders out into the apartment, bleary eyed and confused when it’s cold, every window open and letting in the cool morning air. She finds him in the kitchen, the now empty whiskey bottle disappearing from view almost immediately as he throws it into the recycling bin, the thick, expensive glass thunking against the bottom of it. She understands now why he’d opened all the windows in the early spring, the usual warmth of his apartment nowhere to be found. He hadn’t wanted her to smell the liquor in the air, had made sure to remove every reminder of it and she knew if she hadn’t woken up when she had he would have taken the recycling out too. 

“Aaron,” she exclaims, her eyes wide as he turns to look at her, unaware she’d even walked into the room, the sound of the street outside having drowned out her footsteps, “That was worth over $1,000.” 

She isn’t sure why she’s saying it, her gaze still fixed on the now empty bottle, the red neck of it peeking out from the recycling. She only realises he’s in front of her when he hooks his thumb under her chin, encouraging her to look up at him. 

“I don’t care about that,” he says, sounding so sure she can’t think of one reason to argue with him, “I care about you. I never want to…” 

He trails off, his hands tight on her hips as they migrate there as if magnetised, and she nods, wrapping her arms around his neck, her body pressed against his, seeking out his warmth in the cold, “I know,” she replies, stamping her lips against his, “I…thank you.”

It’s not lost on her that he’s thrown away something that was a gift, something he’d kept in the back of his bar cart for a special occasion, and that he’d done it without a second thought. So sure of her, of them, that he hadn’t considered anything else. 

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” he says, his eyebrows furrowed as if it was ridiculous, as if it wasn’t one of the kindest things anyone had ever done for her, past partner’s resistance to even pick up a box of tampons for her on their way home even more absurd than before, “It’s what you do for someone you lo…”

She fights a smile when he trails off, catching himself before he says it, panic she finds adorable flashing in his eyes. She kisses him, drawn forward as she cups the back of his head, holding him in place when she breaks the kiss. Her nose nudging against his as she says the thing that suddenly didn’t feel as revealing any more. Empowerment found in three words that she once saw only vulnerability in. 

“I love you.” 

His smile is answer enough, but he says it back, the words skipping across her skin as he repeats them, the smell of fresh coffee and her future lingering on his breath as he presses his lips against hers. 

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Actually Asthmatic

Summary: Reader comes to work despite being sick and pepper makes sure you’re ok.

TW: asthma, fever, overworking, sickness lol

Pairing: pepper x Platonic!Reader

Words: 2.5K

A/n Part two coming soon (part two will have natty and wands >:). Also, so much has happened since I posted last and I’m so sorry it’s taken this long. I’ve been super busy with uni. But… I got a girlfriend :) I also have a ton of uni work I have to keep up with and I have like no time for anything now. But I will do my best to keep writing. So expect my updates to be a bit more spaced but I’m NOT giving up on this account :)

Living in a dorm was an interesting thing. You had a room, kitchen and bathroom to yourself, but it was lonely.

You knew you were in for a rough time when your lab partner came to a lecture sick. Not only that, but they were coughing … a lot. You knew no matter how hard you tried you were bound to get sick and mentally you resigned yourself to your new fate.

Lo and behold the next day your throat hurt, but it was manageable. Another day passes and your head had begun to feel like it was stuffed with cotton. A truely lovely experience. To make matters even better, you had three classes and work today. Your shift at stark industries was something you couldn’t miss even if you wanted to.

Pepper was coming to check on your branch of the company and you needed to be able to show her the numbers at the meeting you were both attending. You needed to prove it hasn’t been a mistake to hire a collage student with crippling debt and insomnia to run a branch of what was probably the most successful company in New York if not the world.

You flipped the page on your textbook and bit back a sigh. There was still an hour left of class and the world seemed to be against you, time was moving slower, and it felt rather personal.

You rested your head on the table and tried to block out the droning of your collage professor, he was a great guy, but your head felt like it was being run over by a bus and your cheeks were warm and your fingers cold.

You must have drifted off at some point because before you knew it someone was nudging you. You groggily sat up and squinted into the light, a frown marring your face.

“Y/n/n, get up. Class is over.” It was one of your friends, you gave a half grunt and looked around.

The lecture hall was quickly emptying out and so you grabbed your bag and textbook and stood, swaying slightly.

“Whoa. You good?” Your friend asked and you nodded mumbling something about standing up too fast before beelining for the door.

You bid goodbye to your friend at the train station and boarded the tube that would take you to work.

It was about a five-minute walk from the train to stark industries, but the cold weather that threatened your lungs working in tandem with your asthma and what you were now beginning to think was the start of a nasty chest infection, made it seem like hours of hiking through the amazon after dark.

You adjusted the backpack on your shoulder and waited for the train to slow, the next stop was yours and despite it being the quiet carriage there was still the loud sound of train tracks passing under making your head feel like a drum being beaten by a tone-deaf monkey on steroids.

The train almost had pity on you as it slowed just as you thought the monkey had found an amp to make his music ‘better.’

You stumbled off the platform and hurried up the steps to the footpath. The crowd jostled you and you felt more than desire to just let the ocean of people sweep you out with the tide.

But you forged on. So did the monkey.

You must have looked like death incarnate by the time you arrived at the lobby. You were flushed at the very least and you could hear the wheezing in your breath as you took in air by the lungful.

You scanned your keycard once you had located it in the mess that was your backpack. Stepping into the clean white walls of stark industries made you feel like a racoon in an upper-class neighbourhood.

You made your way to the elevator that would take you to the board room and finally paused to catch your breath which was now just a string of wheezes. You knew that because the look the lady at the reception shot you was one that was a mix of concern, confusion and pity.

Your throat was raw, and your face was congested as well as your chest. You sounded like you swallowed a frog, and the frog was also now sick and subsequently congested.

When the lift arrived you thanked Stark, who was your own personal god that there was nobody else in it. You stepped in and lent against the railing after thumbing the button for your floor with what was probably more force than necessary.

You sat back against the cool metal bar and watched the numbers climb higher and higher as you approached the master board room which was also the same floor as peppers office. A place you rarely visited except when you had the quarterly board meeting like today.

As the lift pinged and the doors slide open smoothly you stepped off and gathered your bearings.

You caught sight of a door at the end of the hall with peppers name on it and smiled. She was also one of your own personal heroes. She worked like a horse and kicked ass like an avenger all while wearing heels and a smile that said, ‘don’t fuck with me before I’ve had my coffee’.

You navigated your way to the board room and cracked the door a bit. So far there were a few people in there and it was still early. You smiled at the unfamiliar faces and sat down.

You didn’t know any of them yet and so you kept to yourself as you and the others waited for pepper and the rest of the companies branch managers and board members to come in.

After a bit pepper entered looking as swauve and elegant as ever. She took her seat at the head of the table and took note of the empty chairs with a small frown.

“It seems some people are still absent, so we’ll wait for a bit until the numbers are more … concrete.” She said with a smile drawing a few laughs from around the room.

You kept your head down, but your eyes kept straying back to pepper.

After a few minutes of you being sat there doodling in your notepad, the meeting started.

You paid attention to most things but once you had presented your numbers you had more or less zoned out. At one point you caught pepper looking at you closely and decided to try and pay attention again.

But the meeting droned on and soon your chest felt tighter and tighter. Your face flushed with the effort of suppressing a cough. The wheeze that had left you in the elevator had seemingly returned and you were doing your best to keep it quiet.

Your eyes looked around the room for an escape and you caught pepper looking at you again. She looked worried.

‘Are you ok?’ She mouthed and you nodded but she looked unsure.

You decided to leave, just to step out for a moment to get some air and let your lungs do their thing.

You waited until all eyes were back on the man presenting before slipping out the door.

You beelined for the bathroom which were luckily empty with everyone currently on the floor in the meeting.

You braced yourself by placing your hands either side of the sink and let out a string of deep chesty coughs. The wheeze got worse, and you cursed yourself for leaving your asthma inhaler in your backpack in the board room.

The coughing still hadn’t ceased, and it seemed the attack was making it harder to catch your breath than normal.

You barely registered the door to the bathrooms being opened and the sound of high heels click across the floor in hurried steps.

You felt a hand press between your shoulder blades as someone drew slow circles on your back. Someone was telling you to breathe and you recognised the voice.

Pepper.

You felt something being pressed into your hands and looked down to find a glass of water.

You gratefully took a sip and found it soothed your throat pretty well.

After a second, the fit ended and you just had the wheeze to worry about.

“Are you alright?” Pepper asked looking worried and trying not to fuss over you.

You shot her a weak smile.

“I’m ok.” You grinned unconvincingly. She gave you a look you assumed tony often received and caved. “I’m sick.” You rasped.

“I’d have never guessed.” Pepper joked rolling her eyes and guided you by the shoulders out the door.

“Where are we going?” You asked still holding the water.

“Well, you need to rest, and the board can handle the rest of the meeting. I want you to get that cough looked at and i have some emails to check. So, we are going to my office, you are going to lie down and I’m going to get some work done.” Pepper said with a smile, and you looked at her like she had hung the stars in the sky.

“Thank you.” You mumbled.

“That’s quite alright honey.” She smiled and then her brow crinkled as if she just noticed your wheezing. Which spoiler alert… she had.

You avoided her eyes as she scrutinised you closely. After a second her pace slowed and yours matched it before she stepped in front of you and placed a hand on your chin. She tilted your head back to look at her and met your gaze with a motherly worried expression.

“You’re wheezing.” She noted.

“And you’re pepper potts.” You said back looking nervous.

“Yes.” She deadpanned in response. “Y/n, are you … asthmatic?” She asked and you looked away.

That was enough of a response for her as she sighed. “Wheres your puffer sweetie?”

“Back in my backpack in the meeting room.” You mumbled.

“Alright here’s what we are going to do. I’m going to get you set up in my office and then go and get your bag for you.” She said and resumed her pace to her office.

When she arrived, she scanned her keycard and opened the door. It was an amazing office. Floor to ceiling windows in a corner room made the whole space perfectly lit with natural light.

You stepped inside in awe, and she guided you over to an expensive looking blue couch with a fond smile.

“You stay here, I’ll be right back.” She said and you grinned and nodded still star struck.

You could see the New York skyline from up here, the city bustling below.

You had barely blinked by the time pepper had returned.

She handed you your bag which you took and thanked her again.

“Now take whatever you need to and try to get some rest, I’ll be at my desk just there if you need anything.” She said with a smile, lingering to make sure you took your inhaler.

After you had uncapped the small blue device and administered the medicine, she gave you a curt nod and headed to her desk.

Almost as soon as your head hit the soft fluffy throw pillows on the couch you were out.

The next few hours were spent toeing the line between sleep and wakefulness. At one point as you dozed you heard pepper talking to someone on the phone before you returned to sleep.

Pepper had sat down to get some work done but had barely typed out one email before her eyes were back on you. You seemed so small in this moment. Just a young adult, you reminded her of peter. She wanted to make sure you were ok and the small wheeze coming from your lips made her worried.

Your face was slightly flushed, and pepper was sure nobody had been messing with the room temperature controls. Feeling maternal, she picked up her phone and punched in the number for Bruce’s lab. Better safe than sorry.

After a short conversation with Bruce in which she relayed your symptoms, he decided he wanted to see you to run further tests and rule out pneumonia. Pepper had looked over at you and agreed, you had been sleeping for nearly four hours now and seemingly weren’t doing much better, and including your asthma she didn’t want to risk anything.

Bruce and pepper agreed to bring you to the avengers' tower to check your lungs and maybe put you on a nebuliser to be safe as the wheeze was still lingering.

When the phone call ended pepper stood from her desk and walked over to the couch, gently she sat down beside you and nudged your shoulder. You groaned and rolled over trying to escape.

Stifling a giggle pepper placed her hand on your arm, frowning when she felt heat radiating off you. She paused and then lifted her hand to your face, laying the backside of her palm to your forehead and feeling for a fever.

Finding what she was looking for, pepper gently rubbed your arm again.

“Y/n? Honey, you have to get up. We’re going to the doctor sweetie.” She said softly and you whined and buried your face in the couch.

“Tired and don’t wanna move.” You mumbled into the cushions.

“You can lean on me the whole way to the car, alright?” Pepper said carding her hands through your hair.

“Okay.” You mumbled and blinked your eyes open to look at her. The haze of fever was settled in and the pink hue of your cheeks made you look both dazed and cute.

With peppers help you stand up and lean into her side. She had already called happy to bring the car around and he was going to meet you both out front.

With your bag slung over one shoulder and you curled into her other side, pepper slowly began the trek back to the lift. The board meeting had ended hours ago so it was just the two of you left on the whole floor.

After a slow and sleepy trip down to the car pepper got settled into the backseat with you so she could keep an eye on how you were fairing.

Your cheeks had darkened slightly, and she felt your forehead again as happy peeled out of the car park. Your fever had definitely risen, and she frowned as the glossy look in your eyes was increased ten-fold.

Part two coming soon :)

[void-occupation]

QPR Applemedia Headcanons

I got bit with the bug for this ship a couple weeks ago, and while I'm writing a little fic for them, you guys can have these headcanons

Lucifer and Vox are romantically and sexually involved while Alastor is their queerplatonic partner

Lucifer and Alastor were actually the first to become involved with each other, then (somehow) Alastor and Vox worked through their differences and became qpps as well

Lucifer DID NOT like Vox at first - he'd heard what happened between him and Alastor and was sure he was trying to hurt Alastor again. It wasn't until Alastor got sick of the protectiveness and forced them to hang out that the pair actually realized their chemistry

Lucifer and Vox are both rich and treat customer service employees like shit

Alastor - who grew up poor and is still not exactly strapped for cash (I'm a broke Alastor truther, sue me) hates this. Both he and his mother worked in customer service when money was tight while he was alive, so he always tries to treat them with respect. He'll take money from whoever was the biggest asshole on their nights out and use it to give the waitstaff large tips. Nights out almost always end in the silent treatment, but our boys are dumb so they don't know what they did wrong or understand why it was wrong when Alastor tells them

Don't worry, they get it eventually and start working on themselves

Vox and Alastor both prefer coffee while Lucifer likes tea more

Vox has the best sleep schedule, Lucifer alternates between not sleeping at all and sleeping for 19 hours, and Alastor sleeps at most 3 hours per night due to crippling insomnia - though he like to tell everyone that not sleeping is a choice in order to seem more mysterious and intimidating

Vox and Lucifer had a field day when they found out Alastor was ticklish. Alastor pretends to be annoyed every time they gang up on him, but it actually reminds him of the rare happy memories of his childhood, so he lets them keep doing it

Vox and Lucifer will binge their favorite shows together and come up with the wildest conspiracies about them

When they sleep in the same bed, Alastor and Lucifer use Vox as a makeshift heater

Alastor is fine with being kissed - making out is a definite no - but he doesn't kiss. He bites with affection. He never draws blood when he's being affectionate, but he's not always gentle either. It isn't uncommon for the trio to be laying in bed and Alastor just starts biting whoever is closest

For someone who is supposedly with the times, Alastor and Lucifer had to explain asexuality an ungodly number of times for Vox to finally understand it - a byproduct of being with Valentino for so long

Alastor still refuses to allow cameras to see him clearly, just to tease Vox when they aren't around each other

Despite his claims, there is actually a wide array of modern music that Alastor enjoys, but despite his southern roots, Vox found out the hard way that Alastor will throw hands if you play country around him

Alastor and Vox love making fun of Lucifer for his height - until he shifted into a form that was a good 5 inches taller than both of them just to shut them up. Lucifer wishes he'd had a camera because he'd never seen them both so flustered at the same time

They have competitions about who can come up with the best dad joke/corny pickup line, and they usually end up laughing so hard they can't breathe by the end of it

They also love trying to make each other blush. Lucifer turns bright gold when he receives genuine affection. Vox overheats when either Alastor genuinely laughs, or Lucifer turns on the charm. Alastor hates that he turns bright red with either genuine praise or when his partners surprise him with something he enjoys (knowledge of jazz/radio, cooking authentic Creole meals for him, expressing real interest when he actually gets invested in something, etc.)

All three of them have weird little hyperfixations - Lucifer with his ducks, Alastor and furbys, and Vox is absolutely fascinated by the existance of Pastafarianism (the worship of the Giant Flying Spaghetti Monster). They all tease each other over their hyperfixations but will listen with the same fond looks when one of them starts rambling about it

Speaking of furbies, when Alastor unleashed the fabled Furby Organ, he played "Symphony No. 5" on it perfectly, and Lucifer and Vox were both awed and horrified

Lucifer always worries they will leave him just like Lilith did, and they both do their best to comfort and assure him otherwise

Vox is afraid that Alastor and Lucifer secretly think he barged in on their relationship, and they will playfully talk shit about each other until Vox is convinced he's both wanted and plays a vital part of their relationship

Alastor fears that they'll either decide he's not good enough because he doesn't like sex, or they'll find out he doesn't own his soul and cast him aside. They don't do anything about this because Alastor never tells them about his fears, instead letting them fester until they manifest as constant nightmares that he also doesn't tell them about

They have each others favorite food and drinks memorized down to the seasoning and temperature

Vox's love language is gift giving, Lucifer's is quality time, and Alastor's is - ironically enough - physical contact. Of course, this makes his touch aversion even more difficult to navigate

All three of them are incredibly touch-starved

Alastor learned how to rewire and fix televisions purely for Vox's benefit - he read three different owner's manuals and practiced on the tv in the lobby in secret

On Lucifer's bad days, Alastor and Vox will regularly check on him and slowly coax him out of bed

Vox is prone to viruses despite his firewalls, and Alastor and Lucifer take turns playing nursemaid when they get bad

When they learned Alastor suffered from panic attacks, Lucifer and Vox spent hours researching ways to help during, before, and after an attack, and learned the signs Alastor had that he was becoming distressed so they could make them less frequent

On that note, when they discovered that he had trichotillomania (hair pulling disorder), they got him different fidget/picking toys to negate the urge to pull his hair

That's all I have for now, feel free to add onto this if you want, I'd love to hear your opinions

[tomatoland]

Top's wounded inner child and TopMew's (play)dates

Top has a wounded inner child. He may look like a grown man on the outside, but inside, he is stuck here.

Top's reaction to freeze or go silent when emotions are high is very likely due to his fire trauma. When Mew yells at him, I thought Top very much looked like a child being yelled at by a parent. The way he avoids eye contact and bows his head. He feels indignation when Mew asks him if he and Boston planned this together, but he's unable to verbalize anything.

I wonder if his parents blamed him for the fire because it is very much reading as someone in Top's life expressed disappointment or blamed him at a critical time. Twice, Mew has asked Top for a reason why he slept with Boston and he can't say and again when Cheum asks, he can't say.

As I'm all about pattern recognition, the show is setting us up for this to be a conversation TopMew are going to have btw.

Top does take responsibility for his actions though. I initially thought that this was a positive sign of maturity, but it can also be a sign that Top had to take on too much responsibility at too young of an age. He does what he's expected to do, which is apologize, but he can't offer any further explanation.

What we know of Top's childhood is that he was neglected by his parents because they are always too busy working or socializing and he was alone when the fire happened. The responsibility of a household is so much to take on when you're so young and to deal with a crisis alone, no child should EVER have to do that. Parents are supposed to be there to protect their children, give them space to just be a kid and Top didn't have that.

Now, I want to talk about how TopMew's dates are actually helping Top heal his inner child.

TopMew's dates are all about introducing Mew to new experiences for TopMew both to experience together, but notice how they are all very playful.

They eat ice cream together, they go to the bookstore and share different parts of books with each other, they go bike riding, they even have sleepovers where nothing sexual happens, they play laser tag, hide-and-seek, dance like nobody's watching, sing out loud badly, drink neon green apple sodas together, and Mew keeps Top company while he sketches (draws).

Top's inner child holds all these heavy emotions from the fire incident, probably to the point that he can't remember good times he had as a child because he has spent an exorbitant amount of time here, fixating on that one moment. The result of which is years of insomnia, dependence on sleeping pills, a crippling fear of dying alone, and a fear of sleep.

I don't think Top & Mew did this consciously, but isn't it just absolutely perfect that is what their playdates (because that's what they are, aren't they?) are doing, giving Top a chance for him to connect to his inner child in a more lighthearted way than he usually does and just play.

“Three things strike me about inner child work: the speed with which people change when they do this work; the depth of that change, and the power and creativity that result when wounds from the past are healed.”

This space to reconnect to his inner child is what is helping Top move past the self-sabotaging behaviors and unhealthy coping mechanisms from before. Past Top would have called up Beam, Past Top would've fallen for Boston's manipulation. Before Mew, Top had a string of short-term relationships and now, he's thinking beyond three months.

The change in Top isn't because of Mew because even without Mew's presence, Top doesn't succumb to his old behaviors. This indicates that the change that may have started because of Mew, is now in Top. Being with Mew is what gave Top the opportunity to reconnect with and work on healing his inner child that now he wants to move past the things that were holding him in place.

This does bring up a really important fact though, change that is contingent on another person is not stable. Change must start with the individual if there is any chance for long-term sustainability. Maybe I'll be wrong and Top will self-destruct in the next episode, but he hasn't yet. He's still trying.

good article if you’re interested & cr for quote