#i think the worst part of depression for me is that when you need help the most is when its the hardest to reach out

[angelstrawbabie420]

in my quest to quell my pain ive only hurt myself worse. damned if i do damned if i dont.

[pepprs]

my depression is getting really really bad. like it’s been bad before but this is like… consistently really bad. like a long unending stretch for several weeks (and tbh months) now. to the point where no inoculation actually sticks (and im isolating myself from most of my inoculations anyway and feel unable to stop doing it even though i know it’s self destructive). im either helplessly unbearably miserable or numbing out on video games. i just don’t feel like it’s going to get better for me and i KNOW that is factually untrue but the feeling is louder than the knowledge and it’s just utterly immobilizing. ive been sinking in quicksand for 2 years.

[savethepinecones]

reaching the point in a depression spiral where my thought process shifts from "i gotta push through and go to work even though i dont feel like leaving my bed because i need to keep my job" to "my mental health is important and if i feel like i need a break i should take a break" and then i take a bunch of time off work and nearly lose my job but keep telling myself that i just need a longer break and then ill bounce back

[lylian333]

~Yandere emperor x reader~

warning: read at your own risk, traumatizing, dark historical shits, noncon, force, many misunderstandings,sexual harrest , angst ,age gap, everything here is quite insane, historical au, he's fucking crazy, killing, insults, English is not my first langue(if there's any warning I didn't put, tell me)

words:2180

(this is not my art I found it on Pinterest, and in the comment section it's said that it was made by AI so💀)

~~

Princess (y/n) Laurier has been best friends with Princess Alyssa Everett since you both were just 6 years old. You both have many things in common, such as interests, opinions, and much more.

You both would usually hang out around each other's kingdom; you don't have any issues with her except with her father, Emperor Edward Everett. He was the hottest, most handsome man you have ever met, and you still do now.

You have had a huge crush on him that felt like butterflies inside your stomach since the day you met him, but he always has that emotionless face and rarely smiles unless at his wife, your best friend's mother. You know this from Princess Alyssa; she would complain about how cold and serious he is.

You still ignore those and try getting to know him, but he just looks annoyed or just straight-up ignores you, but you ignore it and still continue liking him. Not only that, you're not the only one; it's obvious that everyone that has met him, females and even males, all drool for him.

You still have some sense in you, and you also have to respect the Everett queen and Princess Alyssa since she is your best friend. You can't just let some love ruin the relationship you both had. You can't. She is like a sister to you. She helps you when you're confused; she protects and defends you when you were getting laughed at; she is there when you needed someone the most. It's not worth losing a relationship like this, and so your liking toward his father slowly dies down.

But things change when you grow up and start having features and curves and in the end, you become a gorgeous woman, many people are jealous of you even Princess Alyssa confesses to you about it and some desperately want you. You reject all of them since none of them are worthy of you, and you're disinterested in them.

Your intense gaze and soft complexion, with your structured face and striking presence, are on par with an iconic beauty, paired with the warmth and softness in your expression, which are very delicate. You would struggle to not look at yourself when there is a mirror.

You still have some feelings toward Emperor Edward, but you manage to hide it and be able to not think about him when talking to him.

The worst thing that could have happened was that the Queen of Everett died from childbirth while trying to give birth to the heir to the throne, but it went to a disaster. It was devastating news to hear from everyone.

The emperor was absolutely devastated and even despised the child. From that moment on he would never talk to anyone unless it was part of a duty, but other than that he would ignore the servant's advisers and even his own kids, which left Princess Alyssa depressed since she had to bear her mother's death, her father's coldness, and the baby boy that her mother lost her life to.

That week she came crying to you when you came to visit her and attended the funeral of the Everett Queen death. You decide to stay at Everett Palace for a few months before going back to Laurier Kingdom.

You promised Princess Alyssa that you'd take care of her and her baby brother, and so you did. After all, back at your kingdom and your family, you have 6 siblings, plus you, and you are the third eldest, which makes you the middle You have experience with babies after the experience of you sibling that you swear are more naughtyer when you take care of them.

In those months of staying, Emperor noticed that you had to take care of the baby boy and Princess Alyass when he found you singing a lullaby for them to fall asleep.

At that moment something in him awoke, something dark, horrible, and disgusting. He knew this was wrong, but who was there to stop him? Not even himself could do that.

From that moment on, he would try getting close to you and getting to know you better; by that, he would call you into his office or into his chamber. When talking, he would get close to you, too close, to the point that he's invading your personal space by burying his face in your hair, breathing in that sweet, gentle scent, or sucking and biting your earlobe.

You knew this was wrong. You both knew this was wrong, but you guys still continued. Your brain keeps telling you to stop and that this is your best friend's father, but your gut tells you to continue. For your best friend Princess Alyssa's sake.

At one of those meetings, you confess to him that you don't want to continue these "meetings" to respect your best friend Alyssa and her baby brother Prince James.

But when he hears that you swear you could feel the air getting tense and his face looks tense as well, and with clenched fists, he looks like he could kill someone that might have been you or others.

He then pushes you onto his office desk and forcefully rips your clothes off. All you can remember that day was just horror, pure fucking horror. It haunts your dreams, memories, and everything that you see that can somehow be related to the day you and he were together.

The cherry on top is Emperor Endward sends an arranged marriage to your kingdom between you both; you pray that your parents would reject this offer, but no. Instead, they accept it and send you a letter telling you the reasons that this could help our kingdom very much and this could give you a better future and more, but all you care about is that you're trapped with him. They also added in that they would be unable to see because of the distance of the two kingdoms and that it is time to set you free.

Oh, how you wish it were true to let you spread your wings and have your own freedom.

You hated everything, mostly yourself. You hated yourself for not being more alert and not telling anyone, not even your own family or close ones; you—you can't even describe the feeling that you're feeling at that point. You quite literally were disgusted by yourself.

You cry all day long to the point where Princess Alyssa hears it and finds you, and you vomit out all the things that happened while still crying. You wish the earth could just eat you whole, make you disappear from the earth, from this world, from this life.

You keep pressuring yourself that this is your fault for days till your hair has a few strands of white hair that you have noticed.

The wedding was within the week, and you both got married and wed. That very day and night of the "honeymoon," he slams you against the bed carelessly and forcibly spears open your legs with his hand while another pins both your head on top of your head.

You whisper near your ear,True to be told, I have actually noticed that since you were just a little girl, you always had a crush on me, so technically you wanted this to happen, so don't cry like last time, dear."

Your eyes go wide when you hear that he actually noticed. He knows that you have no words—absolutely no words.

That night was as horrible and traumatizing as the night you both had together. Princess Alyssa personally tries to help you escape; even after the marriage, she still supports you, even knowing the fact you are technically her stepmother.

But she accepted you, and you were quite stunned at how she handled the situation. Even though it was like hell, she still helped, whether by holding you while you were crying or whatever she was still there. It felt like she was starting to take care of you instead of you taking care of her like how you first promised.

In one of the many attempts of you trying to escape and her helping you with it, you both were caught, and Emperor Edward decided to punish you by isolating you and sentencing Princess Alyssa to be beheaded, his own daughter.

And you were forbidden to give her any visits after the situation. You didn't get the chance to even give her the last hug or talk or anything, not even a goodbye. You even threatened to kill yourself if he didn't allow you to see her, but he just laughs at you and tells the guards to throw you inside a dungeon where there's nothing, not even a window, so you have to rely on the fire outside.

Just like that, she's gone forever. You cry for days and refuse to eat, sleep, or even drink. The king himself has to personally force-feed you so that you don't die. You even scream and beat him as hard as you can in rage whenever you see him, but he just stands there, not unbothered. You might as well think that he doesn't even care or feel anything anymore, no remorse, no nothing, just disgusting lovesick eyes looking at you.

"I just can't get enough of you, love~"

Your life goes on until you have had enough, like enough one more year of this. You seriously don't think you want to be reincarnated into another life. You desperately want to feel things instead of being trapped in the shared chamber all day long, only allowed to go out to the garden for 1 hour to get fresh air with a few ladies in waiting and your own trusted servants near you to keep being aware of you and make sure you're not doing anything harmful to yourself or escaping.

You came up with the stupidest and most shameful idea. You decide to frame yourself for cheating on Emperor Edward and confess to him that you cheated. Making up fake clues for others to notice and gossip about, but the emperor refuses to believe it, so you told him personally.

"I cheated on you, Edward."

"You must be joking, dear. How would you even be able to do that, hm?"

but you just keep repeating the sentence, "I cheated on you."

This makes him overthink and triggers him, and he ends up struggling with you to death in the process. You still keep repeating the sentence, which forces him to grip your neck even harder till you are no longer breathing—not even a single movement, just soulless eyes staring straight.

When he realized that it was too late and there was no turning back, he let go of your neck, and you collapsed onto the ground, dead. He kneeled down next to you; finally, at this moment, he felt guilty for everything. He reflected on the things he had done to you, the amount of damage. Why didn't he think about this earlier? Maybe that could help him.

No, it's your fault for cheating on him. How dare you filthy women cheat on an emperor that has done everything for her sake? To this day he still blames you, but part of him does regret not caring what you felt and thought. He only treated you like a toy, a glass doll that would easily be broken. But he just couldn't help but love you with all his might, even if it meant hurting you.

He tried to keep your body from decomposing and rotting and would soak you in water to slow down the decomposing. He even went mad and brought you to the throne room for events, dressed you properly, stuffed you with cotton to keep you looking more alive, and said to others, "My wife is doing well; look at her, she's such a sleepy head; look at her sleeping, hehe…"

Sadly, eventually, he had no other choice but to finally bury you because your body was decomposing and smelling really bad. At the funeral, he gives a speech on how she was in his life and how he can't believe she died before him from 'sickness' and oh how sad he was and how he saw her glowing up into an elegant woman and more.

Prince James also gave a speech about how you try helping out, that he always sees her as a mother figure, and how (y/n) has always tried her best. He was innocent in all of these; as well, he even balled his eyes out when he found out that you died.

At the very last moment of seeing your face, he cupped your cheek one last time.

"Oh, how much I will miss you oh how I wish that I could go with you as well, but it's fine you don't need to worry love In my will, when I die, I'm going to be buried right next to you." He says that while chuckling while feeling remorse.

~~

omg, there are so many things I want to comment on but erm yeah this is how it is??? it could have been worse

[inbabylontheywept]

So: You have depression.

I'm 27 now. The last time I had a major depressive episode was when I was 16. I still have depressive episodes every now and then, but the worst tend to be a month, and most I can generally get through them in about a week. It took me a while to kind of figure out how to handle depression as a recurring thing, and so I thought I'd make a little welp-I-got-diagnosed-now-what guide.

So, first part of the guide: When I first got depressed, I thought that depression was the terrible, sad hopeless feeling that I had. It isn't. That terrible sad hopeless feeling is a symptom of prolonged depression. By the time I get to that point, I'm pretty well cooked and it takes a lot longer to bounce back. Avoiding getting to that point is a vital part of living with depression.

So what does depression feel like?

I am going to hammer this point home a lot of times while writing this: Depression is an anesthetic. It is not felt as a presence, but as an absence. The first absence, for me at least, is when life stops being fun. Every movie feels boring, I can't get more than a few pages into any book, and everything just seems... bland.

This is the best point to catch it at. I have found that consumptive patterns of entertainment do not do anything to help depression. Some people have told me that producing art at this time really helps them, but personally, I can't imagine trying. Instead, I just do tasks that I know inspire physical satisfaction. Which sounds like jerking off (I don't actually reccomend that route) but really means things like: Going for a walk in the sunshine. Working out. Cleaning the house in a fairly exhaustive way. Scrub the baseboards, wash the sink, clear the fridge, etc.

I recognize that doing those is really, really hard while depressed because depression causes physical weakness and exhaustion. The best I can do is, unfortunately, encourage vigillance. If you suspect you're getting into a funk, start on this before you get really deep into the mire. People that get into the mire can get out, but it's not self-help read-a-book type shit, it takes therapy and medication and patience and it is so much easier and cheaper and faster to just avoid letting it get that bad then crawling out once it's sunk its teeth into you.

I have found that for things that work almost by exposure alone, spending time in the sun and talking to people are borderline magical, with the caveat that talking to people about being depressed tends to make things worse instead of better. Talking about anything that cuts through the anesthetic of depression is ideal, or if it's sunk in deep enough that you're having trouble finding anything, talking to someone else about what they're passionate about. Ideally, you'd find someone passionate about a thing you know you're passionate about but are struggling to enjoy right then, and then you'd just let your mirror neurons run amok. Bonus Points

So, you're already depressed. Like, pretty fucking depressed, and you fucked up, and you let it slide. What then?

This is my I-Fucked-Up-And-Got-Big-Sad, Salvage-My-Weekend, depression routine. You'll need to make one for yourself at some point, and yours will work better for you, but this is mine and I think it'll work okay-ish for you. Until you get your own, at least.

I have to get up before 10 am. Staying in bed later than that gives the depression such a huge head start on my day that I just basically can't catch up. If I can't just brute force get myself out of bed, I will throw my blankets and sit cold on my sheets until that gives me the motivation I need. If I cannot work up the guts to throw my blankets, I will actually roll off the bed, flop gracelessly onto the floor, and then stare wistfully up until I can will myself to stand. It helps that every bedroom I've had either had freezing cold tile, or itchy coarse carpet. If you have a comfy floor, maybe buy a very scratchy rug? I cannot emphasize how important this step is. It's like, half of the whole thing.

After getting up, immediately go outside and sit in the sunshine. This provides free executive function, and getting it ASAP will make everything go much smoother.

Talk to someone while outside. If you have a roommate, they work great. Face to face conversations tend to be the best, but phone calls with loved ones are like at least 80% as effective. Calls to family members tend to be better than in face conversations with acquaintances or people you're mostly ambivalent about. Don't do chat messages. Worse than nothing.

This should have scrounged up enough free energy that you can clean something. I always start by trying to clear a part of my counter off. If that's all I got, that's all I got, and I still feel good about it. If that inspires me to do more, I'll run with it until a whole room is up to snuff. I don't do more than one room while I'm this crispy: The goal is not really to clean the house, but to work through a series of tasks that require some initial level of executive function but provide a larger amount back once completed. Life has a lot of these deals that are like, give me $10 and I'll give you $12, give me $12 and I'll give you $20, on and on, and the hard part is really just getting the $10. Some people wake up with $10. Most days, you will wake up with $10. But not when you're like this. You're gonna have to earn it. I'm sorry.

I am going to reiterate: This is what I do when I feel a funk coming on. My life and my schedule are not always this regimented. Living with depression doesn't mean never sleeping until 10, or having a weekend where you don't talk to someone, or take a break from cleaning. Living with depression just means never, ever, leaning into the depression when you feel it coming on. Even when it starts out feeling cozy. Even when you want to just snuggle into it and sleep and sleep and sleep. The first day or two will feel luxurious, and the next week will feel terrible, and the longer you wait the harder it will be to get out. You are always going to have to worry about that. Again, I'm really, truly sorry.

Bonus Bonus Points

I am not a psychologist, but I do have a theory about why depression exists. Remember how I said it's anesthetizing? I think that's what it's there for - getting rid of emotional pain when it isn't being helpful. People often get depressed after a major injury. Boredom is normally nature's way of punishing you for just curling up and doing nothing, but depression can be the emergency override on boredom. It makes sense for you to sit still and do nothing while your body is healing, so maybe nature temporarily removes all your motivation with depression and then just lets you be a limp noodle until you're healthy again. Maybe?

Back to the emotional level, though, depression might also be a way to muffle pains that would otherwise be so intense that people might not remain in control of the faculties. The pain of losing a parent is notorious for driving people so mad with pain that they ruin their lives, but depression is there to at least try and keep us sedated until the nadir has passed.

It is helpful to know what the purpose of depression is, because you will eventually get it from an "intended" cause, and reflexively fighting it then probably isn't good for you. And at the very least, knowing why this stupid thing exists makes the world feel like less of a cruel place.

There are a lot of interesting studies on the physical effects of depression - things like muscle weakness, increased pain tolerance, muscle relaxation, etc. that I won't go into, but it does so many things at once that it almost doesn't feel like a fuck up, but a feature that we just kind of lost the plot on. Not gonna deep dive on it, but it is something that probably shouldn't be confined to just a mental disorder.

[beescake]

PLEASE PLEASE MEGADUMP THE ARASOL!!! PLEAAASEE MR BEESCAKE I AM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU

HFHGHD GLADLY aaa i’ve been adding notes to it here and there for months but just hesitant to post it bcs im 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂

also this is just my own takeaway of the events, it doesn’t necessarily comply to the Ultimate Truth of Canon-Alignment or represent the actual facts of what hussie intended! v sentimental smh but hopefully its still interesting to read

i love when characters inform each other by proximity, it's one of my fave things to see in media :') it feels even more significant when two characters deliberately choose to stick together, so that when one operates, you can tell the other is similarly aligned in associative solidarity.

sollux is a keystone of this trope — whoever he aligns with is a wordless statement, a nod of approval. this stood out to me bcs the main four humans were alr friends by default, but once you reach hivebent you realize the trolls can actively choose who they want to hang out with.

and as we all know, after assessing every troll's biases/loyalties, sollux is the only one who maintains his selective preference for innately Good 👍 people.

aradia is such a beautiful character honestly, she evokes such incredible feelings in me. she might not have been consistently written with care but the best parts of her character are truly stunning. i think it's easy to remember sollux as the self-sacrificing one bc he's so open about it (and his friends frequently react to his Moments) but when you compare him to aradia, it's always struck me

how much more. raw it is

to be so alone as an agent of time, having to orchestrate immeasurably harrowing events nobody understands or gives a fuck about

with your role painted in the story as one who must tend to the needs of the narrative, responsible to match every next note

because when you're given the capabilities, it becomes your duty to carry it out.

it becomes expected of you to keep experimenting and arranging the machinations to work for everyone, dusting off hundreds of necessary failures to keep going

and having to be so unwavering in your drive knowing miserably that there's no one who can help you but yourself.

or alternatively: to make things fun! so other people won't think twice about letting you go off on your own.

sure she's had some very good buds, notably thanks to Team Charge v Team Scourge antics.

and yet, at the end of the day, the one friend that kept choosing her time and time again was the friend with the highest standards.

i can see why people like to define arasol as moirails/matesprits but surprisingly i find the nondescript, unlabeled aspect of their relationship more straightforward to understand.

there's no shortage of people who would accommodate sollux. most of the surviving trolls are his oldest friends bcs he’d chosen them well. his transparency with his feelings had built him strong friendships that won’t falter or break, regardless of how much of a dick he can be. they’ve already seen and accepted him at his worst, and they still like him for who he is.

contrast that with aradia, who'd been so approachable, friendly and reliable in her exchanges it was super fun to talk to her. but the moment she became depressed, all her connections broke down.

her friends became hesitant to interact with her (until she became god tier, “happy” and amicable again) because her gloom and resignation didn’t serve them. she dealt with it alone.

there’s def something of note here abt the disparity between the way male & female characters are written+perceived in homestuck (esp parallel arasol with davejade) but i won’t go into that lmaoo

with this in mind i like to think of sollux as a gift to her, a loyal companion given to complement and commend her resolve. she's capable of doing so much alone but hussie took the time to build her and sollux's relationship as one of a unit; a set.

the ambiguity of their status does complicate things, but i do believe it makes sense with their characters. aradia's relationship with romance is a rocky one, the dubious stringalong equius had with her is a pointed reminder that her feelings of attraction are ultimately controlled by the author writing her.

unlike the other trolls who can openly address and own up to their crushes, aradia had romantic emotions forced upon her (especially when hussie implies 'she kissed equius back on her own volition'). and it seems like her character is so intrinsically neutral abt attraction that even when forced by the almighty powers above, she's unable to retain it wholly.

however, looking back to pre-game when she could actually "choose" her own feelings, she did have a crush on sollux.

their soft spots for each other were so obvious to the point where other people could see it.

taunting aside, when vriska comments on their unit as bf/gf it actually informs the audience that arasol's relationship is romantic in nature despite not aligning with the quadrant system.

even while dead, aradia could still describe her care for sollux, expressing that she would like to see him happy. if they had more time to explore their relationship on alternia, it's possible they could've settled in a quadrant once they grew older.

but going back to the lack of labels, their dynamic was affected once more when aradia became god tier.

to me, her ascension was both the perfect culmination and possible closure of her character. it's the light at the end of her journey toiling through countless of timelines where she had to actively assess and participate. that's why it's cool to see her being silly and having fun giving guidance, passively exploring and watching other people do their parts.

and yet the joy of her freedom makes it hard to explore further introspection. if we take her by her word, she'd already come to terms with the hurt she's been through and forgiven those involved.

i can't help feeling attuned to how impersonal and detached it can be, to devote and meld your identity so completely with your designated position as Maid of Time until you've become hard for your old friends (and even some readers!) to personally connect to.

idk post-canon but i assume there’s some degree of similarity to be bridged here with aradia's god tier and how the hs2 humans' Ultimate forms was described as a consolidation of all their possibilities. since aradia's classpect is inherently of service to Time, going god-tier may have elevated her beyond personhood with the "game construct" possessing her entirely. sollux doesn't realize the extent of it bcs he's still mortal, but a part of him may have subconsciously understood this.

i think there is a core aspect to aradia that was lost to the dehumanizing glory of god tier — a core aspect that may have contained an element of why sollux enjoyed talking to her in the first place.

to him, aradia hadn't just been a nice girl, she was a cool girl. despite not having much in common, he's still willing to chill next to her so she's not alone while she does what needs to get done.

back on alternia, they held a mutual and equal-level regard for each other that could've definitely settled into something permanent. but now, he's placed himself in a position where he can be kept around or left behind at will. the parameters of the relationship are largely in aradia's court, so any label she suggests to identify their relationship with he's likely to accept.

but that's why it's so difficult to label it. because god tier aradia may not necessarily Want quadrants or relationship labels. rather than the initial romantic attachment, their commitment to each other had evolved into one fundamentally of companionship.

no label? ok fine. no matter what, he still thinks she's a good soul worth latching on to. the best, actually. aradia > everyone else.

even if it gets stilted at times. there's an unexpected struggle to connect when sollux's go-to default for talking points is his feelings about things, and aradia may not want to talk about emotions all the time.

not to mention god tier aradia became an observer, especially of chaos. but sollux's avoidance of involvement comes partially from his innate pressure to get involved if something goes wrong. and he can't always tell when something goes wrong, because aradia doesn't mind if things go wrong anymore.

it's a non-negotiable preference that causes them to take the occasional time apart, a new boundary that wouldn't have existed before the game and aradia's god tier.

but just like how his friends tolerated his moods, sollux accepts aradia as she is. with no quadrants, their connection doesn't break down because there's no implicit romantic expectations to be disappointed by or resentful over.

sometimes when i see hs content that deliberately distances sollux from aradia, i assume this is the dissonance people might have felt. people might find it "easier" to be cynical about them bcs of this strange tension.

but idc lmao. grab that shit by the neck

lack of easy resolutions and cleanly tied ribbons is pretty standard of homestuck and imo it doesn't make arasol's dynamic any less incredible. with the right affection and consideration, there's still so much potential to develop the nuance of their relationship outside of the popular quadrant-based depictions.

hs has a lot of really great character compatibilities but the way aradia and sollux are in their own special orbit is why i can write this much about them in the first place. it's that frail innocence between first loves that makes it so sweet to me, two kids who grew up too fast playing guesswork without being clear where they're going.

ultimately i do think you're meant to feel a little tragedy for just how much they care for each other, even if they can't quite establish it in simple terms.

maybe they keep taking breaks to progress their own paths. maybe they remain as anchor partners while seeing other people. but even if you decide to separate them, they're still (awkwardly) texting each other updates all the while. and when they reunite it feels like coming home.

and well. more than anything, i like to believe that they do want to be exclusive.

they're just afraid. after all, they're still learning how to love, beyond the projections of the foursquare quadrant system they had inadvertently distanced themselves from since young.

they might not have everything figured out, but they'll get there eventually if you just hold them together and write them there.

optional post-canon segment:

one of the limitations of main hs is that (monogamous) relationships are often written as the go-to solution to wrap up character growth; it's an easy "patch" to imagine characters getting their happy ending because they have a partner, and those who don't end up with someone don't get that closure (most notably jade).

hs2 reaffirms this by suggesting that aradia's character cannot progress without letting sollux go, because happily settling in a relationship automatically locks your potential.

that pathetic panel of sollux staring emptily into the sky is still my fave hs2 spoiler ngl i find the impact of their parting so emotionally provoking precisely bcs they were written in original hs to be each other's forever, coming back together again and again

but now, they're subject to the decisions of the post-canon authors who might choose to deviate from that.

it's not new for them to part, but now there's an underlying worry that her dropping him off this time might be the last time. while i think the prospect of shattering their stability to make them grow separately sounds fun on paper, no amount of me desperately hoping for a good execution is gonna guarantee it

idk. i guess prediction-wise im expecting sollux in classic dramatic-hs2 fashion to tell dave to back off aradia LMAO. otherwise it's just gon be sollux and karkat pathetically watching aradia and dave from a distance swimming in their unresolved feelings for narratively-powerful time players smh obvs it sounds corny as hell but who knows its still plausible

srsly tho i hope they take the opportunity to develop arasol's relationship in a fresh direction that doesn't hurt me too badly...... and i hope they force sollux out of his comfort zone. i like watching him struggle :-)

[toxycodone]

Oh my godddd. Laios would be so good at helping someone lay eggs 😭 he’d be so encouraging and his voice is so comforting. I’m getting like. Soft horny over this

"It's okay...I got you."

Laios's voice is oddly calm despite the situation at hand, but much appreciated. Another sharp pain tears through your abdomen, causing you to yelp, burying your face into the tallman's shoulder. His presence behind you keeps you grounded in reality. You're more than thankful he's here with you. You're unsure you could do this without assistance.

Laios frowns when he hears your sounds of discomfort. A gentle kiss is placed to your temple, before his large hands start to press against your stomach. He's feeling for the buldge lodged in there, searching with care for where the egg may lie inside you. When he finally starts to prod against the outline, the blonde smiles.

"Found it." He hums. His warm breath fans against your skin. You try to focus on that feeling, along with the callouses on his hands, to distract yourself from the pain. He starts to massage the area, coaxing the egg from within you. The feeling makes you grit your teeth--but you do feel it start to move.

"Good, good. You're doing great." Laios encourages you, a soft smile on his face. He raises your hips, then spreads your legs out further. One hand trails down your thigh, now massaging the fat of that area as he trails closer and closer to your groin.

"Laios..." You choke. The tears that threaten to spill from your eyes make it hard to see due to your rapid blinking keeping them at bay. "What are you...?"

"Shh, it's okay." He kisses your cheek now. You can feel the egg pressing through the canal of your slit. A little more pushing will do the trick, but from the object's size, you know it won't be easy. The beginning was barely the worst part.

The blonde uses one hand to rub the upper part of your groin as the other dives between your folds. He gathers a little lubrication, then uses his fingers to rub circles into your clit. The sensation makes you jump. All the blood rushing in between your legs has seemed to make you hypersensive--which explains why this birthing process has been so hellish.

"That feels better, right? Just a little more and you'll be done." The callouses on his fingerpad add the most delicious sense of texture as he continues to pleasure you. The pain is still there, but it steadily becomes a more bearable ache as you continue to get more aroused. You lean back against Laios, now trying to relax as you let out a soft moan.

"That's it. Just like that. You're doing fantastic." His voice is husky, lips lingering against your skin with each word. "You look so beautiful like this..." Laios lets out a shaky moan as he feels the egg move a bit, but he's quick to not let himself get lost in his own arousal. You need him right now.

"You're almost there. I'll keep making you feel good, so just relax." Another wave of pain is depressed by him stroking the underside of your clit, trying to pay attention to the sensitive nub poking from under the hood. "You can do that for me, yeah?"

Your legs are wobbly, body hot from a mix of lustful fever and what you can only think of as birthing hormones, but you manage to steady yourself. You breathe in through your nose, then let your breath harshly blow past your lips.

"Yeah. I-I can--" You're cut off by another cramp. Laios quickly picks up his pace to aid in it subsiding.

"You're so good for me. I'm gonna make sure you don't regret this."

[flowercrowngods]

based on an idea i had about steve getting a bad migraine from the sudden bloodloss after kas feeds from him

post-canon, steddie don't like each other, hermit kas, depressed brain injury steve, kinda gloomy, anxiety & compulsions

Steve cuts the engine with a sigh, feeling heavy and alien, like a lone survivor in a ghost town. He’s not a lone survivor, and Hawkins isn’t technically a ghost town because there’s still enough of them here to build it back up or to watch it crumble and cave in on itself, front row seats to the fourth wave of destruction. 

Maybe the real ghost is Steve, actually, floating through his days just waiting for his brain to decide it’s had enough. Just waiting for the perpetual ringing in his ears to rise in pitch and frequency and for his skull to fucking crack open from the never ending waves of the never ending buzz.

Robin asks him about it a lot, notices how he will stop and listen to his body on every inhale that feels slightly wrong, or every movement that’s just a little too fast or just a little too sudden, the blood rushing into his head or out of it, the doctor’s words ringing in tune with the tinnitus: You watch that head of yours, young man, and do not hesitate to call emergency services when the headache won’t stop after a few hours, or when anything feels off, you hear me? 

The truth is, he barely heard him then. Blood was roaring in his ears, the tinnitus still quiet, but his hearing still dull from impact and screams and shock wave after shock wave of the world sewing itself back together. 

He sighs again, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel and trying to catch his breath. Taking stock of his head, the heartbeat he can only feel in his hands right now and nowhere near his temples, and the quiet little tap tap tap of his finger nails hitting the leather, wanting to make sure he can hear it. Wanting to make sure he doesn’t imagine the sound. 

Always fucking needing to make sure. 

Soon, he breathes a little steadier, convincing himself that getting out of the car won’t be the last thing he’ll ever do. It’s so stupid, too, that fear, all that anxiety living inside him just waiting to boil and spill over until he does something stupid just to spite it.

The cool breeze hits his face, working in tandem with his calming breaths to alleviate his obsessive thought spirals, and he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he does nothing but breathe for a minute there. 

He’s up. He’s standing. He can walk through the forest to the vamp’s hiding place, it’s fine. It’s fine. Although standing so suddenly makes him aware that he hasn’t eaten much today, too busy hating everything about this town and helping to rebuild it anyway. 

Forgetting to eat and drink is another thing that’s new to him. There’s quite a few things he forgets a lot, but those are the worst. Robin is always on his ass about that, but at some point he stopped telling her. It feels like he’s stopped telling her a lot of things. Maybe that’s something else that comes with severe brain injury, young man. 

He feels plenty guilty about it at least — but not enough to tell her about all the horrible things that are happening to him, or the horrible things he thinks are happening to him. The Upside Down is gone, Vecna is dead. These bad thoughts, they’re all him. But knowing that doesn’t fucking help.

Pushing away from the car and turning around to lock it, Steve decides to wallow in self pity no longer and to just get on with it. As much as he hates it. As much as part of him wants to just go home and claim that he forgot about that, too. 

It’s no secret that Steve never liked Eddie. The boy’s a hypocrite, he’s loud, he’s annoying, and he just likes to shame people as publicly as possible, spitting proclamations of conformity and sticking it to the Man while at the same time turning anarchy into despotism under the guise of rebellion — and he’s the dictator. 

Or, he was. And Steve never cared about him or his larger than life attitude that was worse than any of the smiles Steve ever wore to fit in in high school. Steve mostly ever just wanted Munson to shut up and eat his lunch, stop pretending he’s better than any of them just because he liked different things.

Although it wasn’t even about liking other things, it was only ever about disliking. And shaming and denouncing. Steve always wondered what kind of a miserable life that dude must have lived, shaping himself not from what he liked but from what he hated. Creating an identity that left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth because it was so fragile and contradictory and, frankly, so fucking annoying. 

Still, he’d never wished for Munson to get involved in all of this. He’d never wished for the man to die. And then to come back only to be turned into some kind of vampire, doomed to live an even worse existence than he did as a human, hidden away in some shabby cabin. 

Steve feels a little bad for him now. For Eddie. Or Kas, as the kids like to call him because he never reacts to his name anymore, more monster than human these days, although Dustin is sure they can domesticate him into becoming his old self again. 

“Like Dart, remember?”

“Dude, don’t compare our friend to your sick little creature.” That was Lucas, affronted and annoyed. Steve could relate, although… 

“You gotta admit, he’s kind of a sick little creature himself now.” 

“Steve!” they’d both yelled, and Steve just playfully shoved their heads back before going to grab a coke from the fridge.

And Kas, because vampires are apparently a thing even after the end of the world, needs blood to survive. The forests are void of animals most of the time, like nature has decided to give Hawkins an ultimatum before returning and the day hasn’t come yet. Maybe it’s something to do with electromagnetic fields, or maybe it was something else entirely leading them all to safety while Hawkins was turned into a war zone. Either way, there is nothing for him to feed here. 

Kas can’t just stalk around the woods at night and drink up a deer or two. Nor can he go rob the blood bank at the hospital, they’re running low as it is anyway. That left them all with only one option that Mike so disgustedly pointed out back then: Kas needs their blood. And Steve feels just bad enough for him to play along. 

So now he is out here playing blood bank for the monstrous version of a guy he never even liked, and his hometown is in shambles, and his head might actually sign the fuck off at any moment now, apparently. 

Things are going great. 

Saving the world is just… really fucking isolating. 

Still he has no choice but to announce his presence with a firm knock on the door, the pattern easy but memorable. 

“This is Steve,” he adds as his hand falls to his side, waiting. 

Kas always takes a while to come out and open the door, hiding away from any noise like a feral cat. Steve can kind of relate — he and Kas don’t have the best relationship either. He has no idea how sudden vampirism works, but just like feral cats will be able to tell when someone wants to hurt them and when instincts should be kicking in, Kas seems to realise how little Steve wants to be here and help him. How little he wants to have his blood sucked out of his body leaving his limbs to feel numb and uncomfortably tingly. 

Eventually, though, the door opens with a creek, just enough for a pair of eyes — too large, too wide, too wild — blink back at him. Steve just lifts his eyebrows, really kind of not in the mood to deal with this barely human vampire and his absolute lack of learning curve about this situation.

When he’s sure Kas has blinked at him for long enough now, he pushes open the door and shoves inside rather roughly, immediately feeling bad when he hears the slight whimper. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, stuffing his hands into his pockets again and trying not to grimace at the stale, disgusting air in the cabin. “Jeez, you really gotta open a window every once in a while. Thought vamps were supposed to have heightened senses or some shit.” 

Kas growls at him, mirroring Steve’s move and shoving past him this time, his shoulder slamming into Steve’s with painful strength. Glowering at the stupid vampire, he rubs at his shoulder before crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“Listen, buddy, I can just leave and have you deal with your hunger, okay? No big deal for me, I even get to keep my blood.” 

Kas snaps at him, showing his fangs and crossing his arms, too; a laughable copy of Steve’s own stance. 

“Or you could just cut the crap and get on with it so I actually can leave again without taking shit from the peanut gallery. Your choice.” 

The huff that follows is so indignant, Steve wonders if that could be what gets Kas out of Munson’s body and let the human win over the monster. Maybe indignation and annoyance is what will break the spell eventually, lift the curse just enough for Munson to get back into his old habit of monologising and spouting nonsense out of that big mouth of his. 

Steve is half tempted to try, but he really does want to just go home and lie on his large couch with no sensory input whatsoever, tuning out the world and his anxieties that might be about to turn into compulsions just for him to gain a little control over everything again. So he squares his shoulders and takes off his jacket before tilting his head to the side, allowing Kas full access to his neck. 

It’s always a little scary but still oddly fascinating, filling him with that same rush that came with witnessing all the supernatural shit over the past few years. Kas is the last remnant of all that, and somehow, buried beneath piles of rubble and trauma and the teenager he had to give up on being, Steve feels weirdly protective of that. 

Not of Eddie. Of Kas. Of the monster that lies dormant. Of the last bit of danger in his life, because he doesn’t know how to live without it anymore — so much so that he has to make it up.

Maybe it’s a symptom of his self destructive tendencies, as Robin would call it. But Steve might be as fascinated with the vampire as Robin is with fire; so she doesn’t get to have a say in this.

There is always a strange intimacy in the way Kas approaches him. Slowly, carefully. Like a hunter his prey. Steve doesn’t feel like prey, not really, but a part of him wants to. A part of him needs to be prey again, if only for those instincts that manifest with a perpetual tremor and a restless feeling in his chest to be of use again. If only so he can have a point again. Something to fight that’s outside oh his own head. 

Now, his point is standing still entirely and feeling those chapped but warm lips trail up and down his throat a little before Kas finds the right spot that won’t really hurt Steve, the right spot that will make it all go by quickly and without any hiccups. 

Still he shivers, like always, and Kas holds him close when he finally bites down. Like always. 

He stands motionless as he feels his blood flow alternating, rushing in his ears and his head, his heart thump-thump-thumping, putting up a fight against the strange intrusion. He hardly even breathes at all, focusing instead on his body and burying his finger nails in his palm for five seconds before releasing his hands and repeating the process three times before he gets it right. 

But then his head is pulsing, his heartbeat slowing down as his vision briefly blacks out in the same way it does when he gets up too quickly, and his heart falls. It’s too much. Too sudden. 

“Kas,” he says, but the vampire doesn’t hear him, drinking more and more of the blood that must be so thick with how little he’s had to drink today — something he only just remembered. “Kas,” he says again, more urgently this time; but still the vampire drinks. 

And where before Steve had a clear vision of the door in the dark room — the light of day streaming in through the cracks and framing it almost mystically —, it’s spotty now. Just slightly off. Like something is missing but his brain is working overtime to complete the picture anyway, reducing the blind spot to merely an illusion. But Steve knows what’s happening. He knows what the sudden pulsating of his head means, especially when it’s followed by his vision just going AWOL on him.

No, he thinks as the situation really settles in, and he begins to push Kas away. Not like it matters anyway now; the damage is done. No, no, no, no, fuck! 

He frantically shoves at the vampire now, blinking against the blind spot even though he’s painfully aware it won’t help. Kas breaks away from him, wiping his mouth and smearing his face and the back of his hand with Steve’s blood. If he looks just right, he can’t even fucking see it. 

Heart falling further, Steve buries his hands in his hair and pulls, hoping that by some kind of miracle he can just pull the migraine out of his head before it can really settle. It’s his only chance. He can’t drive like this, he shouldn’t walk like this, and soon he won’t be able to do anything at all. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” be hisses, hearing the edge of desperation in his own voice and caring very little about that right now. 

Kas is on him again in a second, and Steve waves him off, tries to shove him away but the vampire is stronger and persistent. 

A high keening sound builds in Kas’s chest, and Steve knows he doesn’t really speak, doesn’t really use his words, ever — maybe he doesn’t know how. But the keening sounds more like a whine, and the way he pulls at Steve to look at him is as much an indicator of worry as he’s going to get.

But Steve doesn’t want Kas’s hands on him, wants to just get out and away before the pain comes. So he takes another step back and holds up his hands, hoping that the vampire will just fucking take a hint. 

A little too quickly and a little too frantic, Steve shakes his head, his eyes flitting about the room to see if there’s still pieces of it missing or if phase two is about to start. He has about twenty minutes left before his body will be composed of nothing but skull-splitting pain that is only equal to someone ramming actual nails into his head — and even that would be preferable right noe, because at least that pain he wouldn’t need to explain. Or justify.

Another keening sound interrupts Steve's burgeoning spiral, and his eyes land on Kas, who really looks like a kicked puppy right now. 

"I gotta go," he says, voice a little unsteady with apprehension and panic, but just as he's about to rush out of the cabin, Kas crosses his path and won't let him move. 

A strong hand lands on his chest, and Steve really, really doesn't want to deal with that right now. He tries again, tries with more force to sidestep and push past him, but Kas won't let him budge. 

"Let me go." But Kas doesn't let up. "Kas. Please. You gotta let me go, I gotta get home, I—“ 

The first flash of white in his peripheral vision catches him off guard, moving his focus away from the clawed hand on his chest and toward the flickering line that cuts through the left side of his vision right now. 

Curious or worried or maybe just really fucking stupefied at having Steve act so weirdly, Kas inclines his head and ducks to catch Steve's eyes. 

"Move," Steve says again, as assertive as he can manage with his brain and body scattered between following the flickering lights that are invisible to everyone else and the pain that is about to consume him, leaving him incapacitated for several hours at least.

Instead of moving out of Steve's space and allowing him to leave, Kas shoves him backwards with that superhuman strength he has now, forcing Steve to stumble back helplessly. Fear rises in him again, and it's a different flavour this time that mixes horribly well with the anxiety and apprehension and all the waves and waves of blinding panic he feels out of nowhere almost all the time now. 

His knees buckle when they hit something rather violently, and then he's falling, landing on the worn couch with a breathless gasp, his instincts running wild. He needs to fight, he needs to run, he needs to get home and be safe and get the fuck away from this monster who won't let him go now. Steve doesn't know Kas as someone who will just take what he wants, but, well, he is Munson, in a way. So that tracks. 

But instead of attacking him, instead of going for his neck again and sucking the rest of his blood, instead of beating Steve to a pulp to keep him pliant and unmoving and turn him into some sort of personal livestock, Kas just... sits down next to him. Hands in his lap. Worried look trained on Steve, who needs to catch his breath and calm down.

"Hurt." 

It startles Steve. Kas has never spoken to him. But what’s more, Steve shouldn't be that obvious. He doesn't want to be that obvious, especially about hurting and being hurt. 

So he shakes his head, his hands coming up to press into his eyes, hoping to get rid of the flickering lights even though he knows that once they stop, the pain will come; and it will come badly. 

"'M not hurt," he says, lying through his teeth and the heel of his hand. "I just gotta go home." 

"Hurt," Kas says again, and it's more assertive this time, less of a question. Like he's telling Steve rather than asking. Like he's making him understand. 

He reminds Steve a little of Robin in that regard, and he almost has to smile. He would, too, if he wasn't so aware that it would become a horrible grimace, wavering and pale even by vampire hermit standards. 

So he sighs instead, letting his hands fall into his lap and wringing his fingers. There are about ten, maybe fifteen minutes left. Not enough to get anywhere safe on foot, and he sure as hell ain't driving when his vision is halfway through its rendition of a TV without signal, zig-zagging in white and red and green, flickering and flaring and leaving him a little disoriented even when all he's doing is sitting on that dusty old couch. 

"Hurt," Kas repeats for the third time, and Steve tenses, ready to snap at him to shut up, that he's not hurt yet but will be any minute now and that Kas should really just shut the fuck up and leave himself if he won't let Steve go anywhere. 

But looking at those wide eyes, he doesn't snap. He deflates. His shoulders fall and his eyes close, which only makes the flickers worse, he feels.

“I’m… I’m gonna have a migraine," he sighs, letting that hang in the air between them, letting the words take up the whole room and suffocate him while he knows that they won't touch Kas. That he won't understand. Nobody does. 

It's just a headache, Steve, get over it. 

They leave a bitter taste in his mouth, and he's just waiting for the huff to come. 

But it doesn't come. Instead, Kas just keeps looking at him; same worried expression, same unobtrusive posture, same everything. Right. He probably doesn't know jackshit about what that's supposed to mean. 

So Steve explains. “I, well. I kinda can't really see right now, but that'll pass. That's when the pain comes. I won't want to move. No light. No noise. No nothing. And all I can do about it is wait it out, which is why I need you to let me leave..." 

It's one of those moments where he hates that he's the only one of their group with a license; that he can't just radio with a code red and have someone come get him no questions asked. 

"I just wanna go home, man," he sighs, hating his voice for the weak whine around the edges. 

A beat passes between them, and Steve pretends like he's not counting the seconds. Like he doesn't notice that the flickering zigzag line is getting smaller and dimmer, and that agony is imminent. 

"Here," Kas says then, and somehow it's both an offer and a command. "You. Here."

Steve blinks, the words not really translating through the tired fog of his brain. 

"Huh? Sorry, uh, what?" 

"You," Kas says, shuffling closer to him, like that sort of helps him translate what it is he wants to say. 

"Me." 

Kas nods, then motions around the room and pats the couch cushion, releasing a cloud of dust from it. "Here."

“You—“ Steve frowns. "You want me to stay here?"

The nod is decisive and in another world Steve would have called it eager, with the way Kas is shuffling on the spot. 

"Kas," Steve sighs, rubbing his face, not quite sure how to make the vampire explain that it's gonna be bad. Really, really bad. The flickering shimmer is already waning, and phantom pains are already setting in, settling along his skull like little pinpricks of warning. 

A clawed hand reaches for his wrist, making Steve flinch away, but Kas doesn't hurt him. He pulls Steve’s hand away from his face almost gently, slowly, and makes sure Steve looks at him. 

"Safe." And he looks so genuine about it. He looks like he knows what that word means. "Safe." 

With a sigh, Steve accepts his fate. Kas isn't gonna let him go anytime soon, and at this point Steve really doesn't want to face the gloomy weather outside, stuck as it is somewhere between drizzle and downpour and so endlessly grey for days. 

Still he feels pathetic about it. Vulnerable. Exposed. Like a last bastion falling, the castle walls crumbling, the fragile house of cards finally falling, because suddenly this agony isn't something he keeps only to himself. 

Even if it's only Kas who witnesses it. Kas, who’s endured worse than that, Steve knows. Brainwashing, manipulation, the agony of shaping human into vampire so excruciating his mind has gone into hiding still. 

"Okay," Steve breathes at last, pretending that his voice didn't break on that single word. "Okay."

Kas hums, the sound resembling more a gurgle than anything else, and before Steve knows what's happening, cold hands are pulling him up and off the couch. 

"Jesus," he mumbles, barely catching his footing and pulling away from Kas's grasp, but following nonetheless, not even thinking about fleeing now. "I'm coming, I'm coming, man, don't touch me." 

Miraculously, Kas does stay away, walking just one step ahead of Steve, turning towards him every two steps to make sure he's still following. It reminds Steve of a mama duck herding her ducklings across the street and making sure they're all still there. It's weirdly endearing. 

"Why do you even care?" 

He doesn't get an answer, but that's no surprise, and he doesn't really mind either. It was more about wondering, about putting that question out there and letting it take up space for future contemplation. 

Kas leads him to an adjoining room, the north-facing windows all barred shut, ripped and moth-eaten curtains drawn to block out the last of the light. Right. Fitting, for a vampire's lair. 

The bed in the middle of the far wall is surprisingly large, though, and looks surprisingly soft. It's unmade, but that's just as well. There are no belongings in the room otherwis that Steve can make out, the framed pictures on the wall look as dusty as the rest of the cabin, so they can't belong to Kas. Or maybe he likes them enough to keep them, to claim them as his own now. 

It’s a heartbreaking thought. 

Stupidly and out of nowhere, Steve wonders if he could take care of this cabin. Dust it and clean it and only fill it with things Kas likes. Maybe things Munson used to like — surely the kids would know how to go about that. Or Wayne. 

He's about to ask; about the pictures, about the stuff, about Wayne — if he's been around lately, if he's still telling stories to bring back the dormant Eddie parts of his modified and manipulated mind.

But just as he's about to turn to the vampire and ask, the blinding flickers disappear from his field of vision in the dark room, and within seconds something inside his skull bursts, leaving his body awash with pain that nearly has his knees buckling. A whimper escapes him that he tries to steer into a groan, but then his hands are flying to his head and he stops caring about how he expresses this immediate agony to the world. 

Kas is on him again with a whimper, suddenly just as fucking tactile as his once-human form. 

“Don’t touch me,” Steve rasps, wrenching himself free from the gasp once more. He really wishes Kas would stop touching him. "You want me to lie down here, yeah? Take your bed?" 

Kas nods again, looking at Steve with those wide eyes that seem to glow in the dark — or maybe that's his migraine-addled mind seeing things where they aren't, making up for the blind spot and the flickering. 

Steve looks away, the motion hurting his entire face, and he closes his eyes as pins and needles are moving along the inside of his face, pricking up against the skin but never breaking through. 

"Right then," he whispers, his voice barely audible and still too loud, making his ears click and pressure collect around them, making him wonder if they're going to burst. "'M gonna lie down." 

Struggling with the heavy blanket, Steve is close to giving up and just lying on top of it, but Kas is quick to help him once he realises that Steve needs it. He pulls back the blanket, still looking so damn stricken about everything, like he's genuinely worried about Steve. It doesn't make sense. 

He doesn't have the strength for a Thanks or even a smile, but he nods just once, just barely, before sluggishly falling onto the bed and fumbling with the blanket once more. Every movement hurts. Every twitch of a muscle is too much, and just moving his pinkie is enough to douse his body in never-ending pain that travels from his skull all the way down.

Something Steve has always wondered is why migraines make his body shut down like that, leaving him in a state where all he can do is lie down and fall into a near-catatonic limbo until the pain has lifted enough to face the rest of the world again. Fighting inter-dimensional monsters and posing as a feast to demonic, modified monster bats was also agony. It also made him lose his footing and almost pass out from blood loss and pain, his back scratched open completely where the bats dragged him across rough stone. 

Migraine pains don't really compare to those, though, and it scares him. Because he knows that's all up in his brain. His fucked up, mangled, thrice-concussed fucking brain he never got cared for because the government goons never took them seriously. Never took him seriously. 

And now here he is, lying in a stranger's bed in a pitch-black room that's still somehow too bright, unmoving, too weak to even pull up the blanket, and hoping to pass out from it all. Hoping he won't hallucinate again this time. Hoping that he won't throw up this time, his body convulsing because it knows it shouldn't be feeling like this. 

Throwing up from pain. There's really nothing more fucked up than that. Or, there is. Throwing up from pain and begging an invisible man to make it stop, only to realise hours later that the most painful migraines can also make you hallucinate. 

He doesn't want that. He doesn't want any of that ever again, and certainly not in a strange, dark cabin with a vampire forged from a human he never even liked. 

Tears spring to his eyes, but they're not the kind that'll fall and bring relief. They just stay in the corners of his eyes, his only way to express the waves and flares of pain washing over him, wishing he could just pass out now. 

Kas tucks him in. Steve didn’t know he could do that. It strikes him as extremely non-vampiric even in this state he’s in. Steve doesn’t react, doesn’t so much as blink his eyes open as the pain travels up to his hairline and settles there, flaring over his forehead to his eyes and down to his cheekbones and then up again, a never-ending motion that he never stands a chance to get used to. 

“Safe,” Kas says again, and it zings through Steve’s body with violent force that doesn’t match at all with the gentle tone he’s using. 

Scrunching his forehead to stave off more words, Steve hopes that Kas will take the hint and know to shut up. 

But he has no such luck. 

“Here.” 

“Shhh.” He shakes his head minutely, shushing the vampire with a barely there noise, keeping the damage to a minimal amount. “You can go,” he slurs, trying not to speak at all. “Please.” 

A beat of blessed, blissful silence, before there’s shuffling again. Kas does walk to the door, but then stops in the doorway. Steve doesn’t want to look. 

“No.” Kas sounds surprised about it. Mystified. Like he wants to leave but can’t. 

What?

“Stay. Here.” 

Whatever you do, just please be quiet about it, Steve thinks desperately. Instead of saying any of that, he shushes him again, hoping that the thump he hears means that Kas is sitting on the floor now. Though he doesn’t understand why. 

Why do you even care? 

“Safe,” Kas says again, whispering the word into the room, and it doesn’t zing through Steve this time. 

With Kas refusing to leave and his pathetic state of existence so blatantly on display, and with waves and waves as his nerves fire signals to his overworked and tired brain, more tears sprint to his eyes. And this time they fall. Silently, and without a sob, without even a sniffle of acknowledgment. But they fall. 

And Steve just wants to go home.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @hammity-hammer (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

part 2 here

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Vesuvia Weekly (M6 Drabbles): To be loved is to be ...

Valued. Julian knows it's a bit callous of him to claim that nobody has ever valued him, when even the people he's hurt the most deeply still can't keep themselves from wanting to save him. But you're the first person who's somehow gotten that message past his poor self-esteem. Without any excuses to shelve your love onto - you're my family, you have to feel that way, I was your friend, you'd feel guilty if you didn't, you saved me once, so you're obliged to do it again - the only explanation he can accept from you is the one you give him.

So when you hold him and keep holding him when he's convinced he doesn't have anything worthwhile to offer you except himself, he has to believe he's valued. By you. And god, what a thought that is.

Known. After years of being your home, Asra knows you like the back of their hand. But for the past three years - and for most of their life, if they're being honest - their greatest safety was their capacity to be unknowable. Unreadable. Mysterious and unpredictable. Nobody was ever allowed into his heart as more than a guest, and until he unconditionally handed half of it over to you as yours, nobody ever had a claim to it. But now you've come fully into your own, and you're part of their life on equal footing, and secrets are foolish now.

You know everything about him - how he likes his tea, the minute shifts in your bond with his every fleeting emotion, the way his "impossible" brain thinks - and it's okay because it's you. You're home.

Uplifted. Nadia is a born and nurtured leader. As the youngest in a family of them, she watched and learned from a leadership style that focused on building things up - and then she married someone who tore her down instead, along with an entire city's populace. Waking up to a city in ruins and a council of sabotage and not a single memory of any nearby friends did not help the parts of her that could use some building up. How was she supposed to lay solid foundations when she felt like she was crumbling? Until you, that is.

You see her weaknesses and immaturities and inexperience and your response is to support her. You comfort her when she's discouraged and encourage her when she's fearful. You build her up.

Protected. As loathe as he is to admit it, Muriel's done more than his fair share of protecting those he cares about. From his time in the Coliseum, to his escape from the Coliseum, to his watchful nurture in the woods, many of his biggest changes happened to protect another life. He never got his hopes up for someone who'd see him, all 6'10, grouchy, seemingly indestructible roughness of him, and want to protect him. People like him don't get to have things like softness, and warmth, and hearty meals that make you sleepy-safe.

You don't agree. You see the fearful, anxiety-ridden child in his eyes when a crowd gets too big or a stranger gets too loud, and you take care of it. You protect him. You show him what "safe" feels like.

Seen. Counting every time she's been overlooked for someone else's sake is the fastest way to send Portia spiraling into uncharacteristic depression. The worst part is that she always ended up going along with it, overlooking herself in the process. Her brother needed a stable sister. The grandmas needed an extra pair of hands. Her brother needed a stable sister, again. The Palace needed someone to keep watch over the Countess. The Countess needed a handmaiden. So, you ... what kind of invisible do you need her to be, for you?

Except that you wanted her to be loud. You wanted her to be visible. You wanted her to talk about herself, for once. You're the first main character she's on equal footing with, and you see each other.

Changed. Lucio is not used to changing. He was raised to see it as a sign of weakness - one moment of compromising your own goals, one moment of failing to commit, and you're as good as dead. So he as a teenager, filled with feelings of betrayal and abandonment, decided exactly who he wanted to be and stuck to the bit. Too many deals, several battlefields, a lethal plague, a Coliseum, countless crimes, and a few decades later, Lucio found as good as dead anyways. Until you happened. With a new goal to commit to.

Somehow changing for you (as vulnerable as it is) doesn't feel weak. Every moment that he struggles out of another habit, he finds you in a new space full of gentle pleasures his teenaged self never imagined.

[darksigns-exe]

dors encore jusqu'au jour où tout ira bien* - noah sebastian x f!reader

*sleep on until the day when all is well

warnings: Swearing, discussions of mental health, depression, burnout and relationship issues

word count: 5.9k

note: This is a hefty one. It gets very angsty in certain parts, but if you know me, you know that I cannot bring myself to write a bad ending. Regardless of that, please think of yourself first and feel free to sit out on this one if you’re not in the headspace to dip into almost 6k of angst. Thank you to @deathblacksmoke and @circle-with-me for your feedback <3

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You’re not sure when it happened. 

It feels like one day everything was fine and the next he’s pushing his dinner across the plate as if it’s the most revolting thing he’s ever seen. 

You’ve never seen Noah like this. 

Sure, he gets quite sometimes. He has days when he locks himself behind the door of the studio and only emerges to eat and to take a bathroom break. 

This is different, though. 

When you think about it, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him smile or heard him laugh. You’re sure that it can’t have been long, surely you haven’t missed him tumbling into his hole. 

You don’t realise how bad it actually is until he starts to miss appointments, until you have to convince him to get out of bed just to have breakfast with you. He retreats back into the safety of your bedroom as soon as he’s finished with what you know to be too little food. You know that he’s only coming downstairs for your sake. And somehow that makes it worse. 

You sit in silence for a long while on that morning. You’ve watched him wither for too long already. And maybe that’s why you call Nick that morning, hoping that he can give you some kind of insight. Nick has all the answers, he always knows. 

He doesn’t this time. 

All he can offer is what you already know. 

Knowing Noah, he’ll be resistant to help until it's almost too late. Still, you make your way up the stairs towards your shared bedroom. They feel impossibly long today. It’s not like you’re going to break horrible news to him, but you know your boyfriend well enough to know that he’ll deny that anything is wrong. He’ll insist that everything is just fine, even when you both know that the exact opposite is the truth. 

The worst thing, you think, is that you don’t know why he feels like this. You’ve tried to ask him if he’s looking forward to the shows, to playing the new songs, but all you ever got in response was a half-hearted shrug. Watching him lose all passion for the thing he loved had broken a little piece inside of you.

You knock on the door before you crack it open just a little bit. 

“Noah?” you ask softly, not sure if he’s still awake or if sleep had already taken him over again.  

No reply. 

You force yourself through the crack in the door and close it as quietly as you can. He’s curled up on his side, turned away from the door. The sight breaks your heart even more. His body moves with slow breaths, and you’re still not sure if he’s awake or not. 

You sit on the edge of the bed behind him. You place your hand on his back, and he jumps at the touch, shrinking further away from you. 

“You don’t have to say anything. I don’t know what’s going on in your head, love, but I’m here.” you can’t stop the tears from falling as you speak, “I don’t know how to help you, but we need to do something. I’m worried about you.”

He stays silent, but you can feel him draw in a deep breath under your palm. 

“Nick thinks that you should think about cancelling the shows.” 

You regret it as soon as you’ve said it. 

The look on his face when he finally turns to look at you hurts more than anything else. The anger that suddenly radiates from him makes scoot back from him instantly.

“And why the fuck would I do that? This is none of your business. I don’t go around telling you how to do your job, do I?” he seethes, “You have nothing to be worried about.”

“You’re obviously not well. I’m just trying to help.” you reply, feeling awfully helpless. 

Noah sits up, his back still turned to you. 

“If you think you know me so well, you should know that I’m fine. And I don’t need your help, either. Maybe you should find someone else to pity.” 

He’s out of the room before you can say another word. Deep down, you know that the anger isn’t real. You don’t know what has its claws in him, but you know that it’s bad. 

You don’t know where he disappears to after that. 

The studio is empty, and his keys have disappeared from the little chest of drawers by the door. A part of you wants to abandon him then and there. If he wants to soak in his misery, let him. But at the same time, you know that he needs you more than ever now, even if he isn’t ready to see that yet. 

You get a text from Jolly not long after that, letting you know that Noah showed up at his door looking all kinds of messed up. He lets you know that he’s out cold on the sofa for the time being, but that there needs to be a conversation before long. 

Jolly drops of a clearly miserable Noah the following morning. 

“You should shower before they get here.” Jolly says curtly as Noah disappears up the stairs once again. 

You both watch in silence as he disappears into the bathroom, and you let out a sigh when you hear the shower turn on. Without asking, you’re wrapped into a tight hug and finally the tears you’ve been holding back all day break free from you. 

“I talked to him.” he says, still holding you close, “I think he understood. The Nicks will be here in a bit, and we’ll talk about cancelling the shows.”

“Thank you.” you mumble into the fabric of his shirt. 

He gives you another squeeze before releasing you from the hug, “How are you doing? I know this has to be hard on you too.” 

You do feel a little bit bad for pouring your heart out to him like this, but it feels good to finally talk to someone besides yourself about any of this. 

Before long, your conversation is interrupted by the bathroom door opening again. You think Noah resembles a wet puppy more than he does a man, and it makes you feel impossibly bad for him. He stands at the top of the stairs, wrapped into one of the hoodies you know he likes, watching you intently. His hands wring together nervously, brow furrowed so deeply that you’re sure that it aches a little. You excuse yourself and swiftly come up to meet Noah. 

“Can we talk?” he asks quietly, barely managing to meet your eyes, “I want to apologise.”

You follow him into your bedroom.

Noah sits down at the foot of your bed. You sit next to him, a hands' width away from. 

“What I said — that was not okay. I shouldn’t have said that.” he remains focused on his still fidgeting hands, “I’m really sorry.”

The way he’d looked at you a day earlier still lingered in your mind, and even though you know that he didn’t actually mean what he said, you can’t help but feel hurt. 

“I know you are. I know you didn’t mean what you said. It still hurt.” you reach for his hands, interlacing yours with one of his, “But we’ll be okay. I just need you to talk to me. I don’t know what to do if you don’t talk to me.” 

Noah squeezes your hand just a little bit, “I’m sorry that I let it get this bad.”

You pull him into your arms and Noah folds almost instantly. His head drops to your shoulder. The fabric of your shirt grows a little damp, and the silent sob that shakes through his body makes your chest ache. 

The other two arrive within the next thirty minutes, with Folio running a little late because he once again misjudged the time it would take him to get to your place. You stay in the living room while they talk in the kitchen, despite Noah’s protest. As much as you want to sit with him and hold his hand, you know that he has to do this on his own. In the end, the conclusion is that the shows need to be cancelled so that Noah will have some kind of chance to recuperate. You overhear his quiet admission that maybe he has piled a little bit too much onto his plate, that he’s tried to do too much in too little time. You know that all he’s ever wanted was to see this band do well, and when they finally got that, he’d done everything he needed to make sure that they’d stay up there. And now, in retrospect, you know that you should have tried to do something earlier. 

Hindsight is evil like that. 

The three of them don’t stay for dinner. Nick stays for a while longer, but you can tell that Noah longs for the house to be quiet again. And he practically falls into your lap as soon as you’ve sat down next to him again. Your fingers card through his hair, just how he likes it, while you sit in silence. He falls asleep a little while later. His brow remains furrowed, and you can easily tell that he’s clenching his jaw. You let Noah rest like this for a while, before you carefully slip out from under him. He stirs a little, blinking up at you with drowsy eyes. You kneel down next to him, placing your hand against his cheek. 

“I’m gonna order us something for dinner. How do you feel about Korean?” 

His expression only changes minimally. 

“We can get whatever you want.” Your thumb drifts across his cheek, “But you need to eat something, darling.”

You end up heating up a portion of frozen tomato soup for each of you. You’re sure that you see a faint trace of a smile on his face when you place the grilled cheese in front of him. 

For the first time in weeks, you think that things are looking up. 

Despite your best efforts, you watch him sink deeper and deeper into this hole. He’s distant, drifting along as days pass and turn into weeks, and you feel as if there’s nothing that you can do to make it better. You’ve managed to convince him to see Ash at least once a week, but even that had felt like an uphill battle. You feel awful for making him leave the house when he so evidently doesn’t want to do that. At the same time, it feels like the only thing you can do besides holding him close when it gets so bad that he wakes in the middle of the night, body shaking with bitter sobs that sear right through you. 

You know that you can’t force Noah to talk. But at the same time you wish that he’d at least divulge a little bit of what is going on in his head, maybe that way you could do more. 

You think that he’s coming up on the other side when you find him in his studio one afternoon. It isn’t until you actually step inside the room that you notice his face buried in his hands. In a split second, you find yourself kneeling at his side. At first, he doesn’t move, remains stuck as he is. 

“Talk to me, Noah. Please.” You plead, placing your hand on him as best as you can with this weird angle, “I want to help, but I don’t know what you need if you don’t talk to me.”

Reluctantly, he swivels the chair towards you, allowing him to somewhat drape himself over you. The silent tears break your heart even further. You’ve seen him cry before, more in recent weeks than ever before, but this feels different. He sinks down in front of you, utterly broken down. And all you can do is hold him close, whispering soothing things to him. You don’t know if your words even reach his conscious mind, but maybe they sink into him somewhere, maybe deep down they find a home in him. 

“It doesn’t work. I can’t do it any more.” He whispers after some time. 

Your fingers card through his hair, trying to get him to look at you, but Noah resists, keeping his face pressed against your shoulder. 

“What doesn’t work?” You ask softly. 

Instead of giving you an answer, he throws a hesitant look towards the still opened editing software on his monitor. 

“Oh darling.” You sigh, wrapping him even tighter into your embrace.

“This is all I have.” He says feebly, “This is who I am.”

“Noah.”

He pulls away just a little bit. The only way you can describe the look on his face is panicked. 

“What am I going to do if I can’t do the one thing I’m good at any more? I — I don’t know what I’m going to do.” He hiccups in between words, and it’s evident that he’s barrelling towards a panic attack, “I can’t lose this.”

He descends into rambling, chest heaving frantically, and for a second you feel so very helpless. It doesn’t matter what you say, your words won’t reach him, no amount of it’ll be okay can fix this, and it hurts so terribly. 

You place your hands on the sides of his face, forcing him to look at you as a last ditch effort. 

“Look at me, Noah.” You’re not sure where you find the energy to be this firm with him, “I need you to listen to me now, okay? I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, no matter what happens. The guys aren’t going anywhere. The band isn’t going anywhere. Whatever happens, we’re all here. Your friends are here, and we love you so much. It doesn’t matter how much time you need. We’ll all be here when you’re ready. And even if that’s in a month or a year. And if it gets worse, and you never get there again, we’ll still be here. No one is going to leave. I won’t leave.” 

He’s quieted down to sniffles by then. His cheeks are so awfully red and splotchy, and you don’t think that you’ve ever seen him look more exhausted before. 

“I know this is scary. And I know that we can make it through this, but I need you to talk to me. Watching you suffer through this in silence hurts a lot. I feel so helpless watching you fall apart like this.”

“I’m just so scared of losing all of this.” The admission comes so quietly, “What if we can’t keep up with the demand? What if we can’t —“

“What happened to doing whatever you want regardless of how it’ll sell?” You reach for his hand instead, “I know this sudden rise felt good, but this is not sustainable. You can’t spend months on the road, barely sleeping, just so you can keep up with all of this. This — the band, the fans, the music wouldn’t be here without you. All of you.”

You squeeze his hand tightly. 

“We’ll figure this out, Noah.” You press a kiss to the back of his still trembling hand, “I promise.”

He lets out a heavy breath, folding in on himself just a little bit. 

“I’m sorry that you have to deal with this.” He sighs. 

“I would do it over and over again. As often as I have to. And I know that you’d do the same for me.” 

Noah’s the one who brings up the idea of a vacation. He doesn’t make a direct suggestion, but you find a print out of an Airbnb in Oregon on the kitchen table one morning, and that’s good enough for you. You’re glad for any kind of active participation he’s willing to give. It’s been a difficult few weeks, but you think that he’s starting to feel a little better. On some days, you think that he’s almost back on top. He’s all smiles and sweet words, just to fall back down the next day. It’s a slow climb, but you’re moving forwards. 

Oregon will be nice. 

The drive is nice, albeit awfully long. Noah had admitted that he didn’t feel good enough to drive, and you’re glad that he’s able to see what he is and isn’t ready for. He seems to be quite comfortable navigating and selecting music, though. You don’t say anything when you hear him humming along to one of the songs, afraid that it’ll make him shrink back into his shell. Hearing his dumb little laugh at a street sign reading Weed gives you a little bit of hope. 

In the months since Noah had been at home, the intimate side of your relationship had been practically non-existent. For a while you’d felt as if you were living with a friend rather than your boyfriend of three years. Noah had never one to shy away from intimacy, your relationship had always been interlaced with soft touches and kisses. To watch him recoil at your touch had been incredibly hurtful, even when you knew - or rather hoped - that it was only a momentary thing. 

By the time your first week in Oregon is almost over, you dare to let your hands wander across his chest once again. It’s strangely foreign. You’d been so used to touching him like this, and now it almost feels as if you have relearn everything again. 

You’ve laid awake for the past hour. He looks much more relaxed now compared to some weeks earlier. The persistent furrow in his brow is slowly easing, and his sleep seems to be a little more restful. 

You do feel a little bad for disturbing his much-needed rest, but you can’t help yourself. He looks so beautiful in the warm morning light falling through the open sliver in the curtains. 

Your fingers trail across the streak of light that runs across his tummy and chest. The muscles twitch beneath your touch, but he doesn’t quite stir yet. You try to keep your touch as gentle as you can. Noah only wakes when your fingers brush against his hip. He stretches, letting you a soft noise as he does. There’s no protest when you trace up the length of his side. He’s still so sleepy, eyes all soft and warm, and you absolutely have to kiss him. 

He leans into your hand when you place it against his cheek. You draw him in for a kiss for what feels like the first time in months. It’s so gentle and chaste, barely there, but it seems to ignite something in Noah. A second later you find yourself on your back, with him hovering above you. One of your hands drifts along his back, before it settles at his waist, guiding him towards you. 

It’s over as quickly as it has started. 

“I can’t.” He says quietly, forehead once again dropped against your shoulder. 

“It’s okay, honey. We don’t have to.” You soothe, carefully threading your fingers into his hair, “We can just have a little cuddle instead.”

“I can’t.” He looks absolutely miserable when he detaches himself from you, “It doesn’t work. This is so fucking embarrassing.”

You realise then when he means. The agony and embarrassment on his face make you wish that you could just magic it all away. 

You want him back, not just for yourself but because you can see that this is torture for him too. 

“I’m sorry.” Noah adds quietly, “I’m — I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

You don’t let go of him though and his efforts to leave are quickly squashed when he flops back down next to you. 

“Can you look at me for a moment, Noah?” He meets your eyes so hesitantly. 

He almost looks as if he’s just waiting to be told what a disappointment he is and somehow that hurts even more. 

“It’s okay. I’m not upset, and I don’t think less of you because of it. It’ll come back.” You say earnestly, hoping that he’ll take at least some of it to heart, “You’re still my boyfriend and I love you so much regardless of what you can or can’t do at the moment. I know you love me, you don’t have to sleep with me to show that.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, eyes flitting across your face nervously, before he settles into the slightest hint of a content smile. 

“I don’t deserve you.” 

“You do. You deserve to be treated with love and respect, especially when you need it most.” 

“I just wish that I could give some of it back.”

“You have. And in time you will again. But right now, it’s my turn to make sure that you know that you’re safe and loved.” 

His expression changes into something you can’t quite place yet. Maybe it’s realisation, maybe it’s relief, or a mixture of both. 

Noah shifts a little closer to you, taking your hands into his, “Thank you. You’ve been so patient with me.”

“Of course. It’ll always be you and me, okay? We’ve gotten through so much, we’ll get through this, too. You’ve already come so far, and I’m so proud of you.”

At the end of your second week, you’d called the owners to extend your stay for another week. Being away from home like this was good for him and if he needed a little more time here then so be it. You could thankfully afford that luxury. 

You find him furiously scribbling in a notebook when you come back from the store one afternoon. You couldn’t remember if he’d brought one of his or if he’d borrowed yours, but whatever had sprung into his mind was important enough for him to need to get it onto paper immediately. You watch him from the doorway for a moment, not wanting to disturb him just yet. Instead, you bring the rest of your shopping into the house as quietly as you can. Noah comes to meet you at the door just as you bring in the last bag.

“You’re back quick.” he states somewhat blankly. 

“Didn’t want you to be alone for too long.” you reply, tossing the pack of toilet roll towards him, “Can you get one of the bags?” 

His face turns down into a frown, before he reaches for one of the bags and marches off into the depths of the house. 

As much as his overall mood has improved, it’s still so changeable. The smallest thing tips him off and you either end up at each other's throats or with you cradling him in your arms while he tries to quiet down his tears. You’re so tired of the fighting, though. You don’t mind doing this for him, in fact you do it gladly, but sometimes it exhausts you. The boys had been your greatest crutch, checking in with you once in a while to make sure you were also taking care of yourself, and you are more than grateful for it. All three of them had been so incredibly supportive in their own ways. As soon as you’d mentioned that you were heading up to Oregon for a bit, Folio had sent you link after link with recommendations of things to do and look at. You hadn’t had the heart to tell him that you were glad if you’d get Noah to sit outside with you in the evenings. You had eventually managed to convince Noah to go on little walks with you, just to get him out of the house and moving a little bit. In the end, he had been the one who had dragged you out of the door in the morning so that you could get to that one nice spot before the tourists got there. 

Noah is nowhere to be seen when you enter the kitchen. The bags are haphazardly placed in front of the counter, with no sight of him anywhere. 

Your call of his name remains unanswered. 

When you don’t see him on the bench out on the back porch, you make your way through the house, checking various rooms until you find him once again sequestered away in the bedroom. 

“Baby?” you ask softly, “Everything okay?” 

Noah makes a somewhat indignant sound then, and you swear that you see him rolling his eyes. 

“Noah.” 

“You can stop babying me. I’m not incapable of living without you.” he shoots back, “You don’t need to hound me all day. I’ll be fine.” 

“I just want to –” 

He scoffs, “I know you just want to help. And why do you think I need your help? I’m not – I don’t need you to pity me.” 

The first tears fall before your jaw has the chance to tremble. 

You try not to listen to the bitter words he hurls at you. They slowly chip away at your confidence. 

“I’m not some lost puppy you need to take care of.” 

Somehow, that’s your last straw. 

“You know what, Noah. I’m sorry for putting my life on the back burner for you. I’m sorry that I tried to help the man I love.” you turn on your heels, leaving the room before he can throw more vitriol your way. 

Your feet carry outside and down the pathway towards the river. Your chest feels so awfully tight. There’s only so much you can take, and hearing him discredit everything you’ve done for him feels as if he’s struck a sword straight through your chest. You collapse on the low bench in front of the firepit you haven’t had the chance to use yet. As much as you try to convince yourself that he doesn’t actually mean what he said, you can’t quite bring yourself to do so. The anger on his face seemed so real. Maybe you had gone a little overboard with your care. All you had wanted was for him to feel better, you had never meant to overstep. 

It feels so heartbreaking. 

Out of all the fights you’ve had recently, this one feels the most devastating. Although, you’re not even sure if you can call this a fight. 

You don’t know if you can come back from this. 

The longer you sit in silence, the worse the feeling gets. Somehow, you had hoped that he’d come out and find you, that he’d try to fix it. Instead, you’re out here on your own, shivering as the air gets colder and colder. You’re not sure how long you’re out here, but no matter how much you try, you can’t will yourself to head back inside. 

The call of your name barely reaches you, not even the orb of the torch you’d brought two days into your stay makes you look up. It’s only when his figure crouches in front of you, hands desperately smoothing along your shoulders and face. 

“You’re freezing.” his voice trembles when he speaks, “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” 

His sweater is draped across your shoulders, his warmth sinks into you almost immediately. 

Noah’s hands curl around yours, holding them just a little bit too tightly. He’s shaking like a leaf. It’s too dark to make out the intricacies of his face, but the fear is obvious. 

“I– I couldn’t find you inside. I didn’t know where you’d gone.” the words rush from his mouth so quickly that he stumbles across a few of them, “I’m so sorry. Let’s get you inside. Please, my love.” 

When you don’t immediately move, his forehead drops to your knees, hands tucked under him so that he can press his lips to your palms. 

“I wish I could take it all back. I’m such an ass. Fuck, you do so much for me and I can’t even say thank you for it.” another kiss to your palms, “Please come inside with me. I don’t want you to get ill because of me.” 

Noah rises to his feet, slowly pulling you with him. 

His hand remains wrapped around yours, as if he’s scared that you’ll vanish again. Through the open sliding door, you can already smell what you think is a pasta bake. Nothing fancy, but he always manages to whip up something good and warming for you. 

He ushers you towards the table, making you sit down on one of the chairs. Within a moment, he places a somewhat cooled cup of tea in your hands. 

“I thought that you’d gone to the other bedroom and I – I feel so bad that I never checked. I just wanted to give you space after all of that and – and now this.” he sits on the chair next to you, hands writhing in his lap, “I don’t know how I can fix this. What I said – I keep fucking up. You’ve given up so much for me, and this is what I do in return. I can’t take it back. I said all of that, and I know that it was incredibly hurtful. But if there’s some way that you’ll forgive me – it doesn’t matter what you need from me – I’ll do it. But if you need me to –” he swallows back tears and maybe that’s when you realise how serious is about this, “If you need me to leave I will. I can be gone by tomorrow if you want that.” 

“Don’t leave.” your voice feels so rough, so shaky, “Please.” 

The tears that roll down his cheek feel so loud when then drop onto the hardwood below your feet. 

“I won’t.” his hands find yours once more, “We can fix this. I don’t want to feel like this any more, but – I need you. I don’t know if I can do it on my own.”

You look at your joined hands. You’ve always thought that they fit together so perfectly, two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle made exactly for each other. There’s no one else who fits you like he does. Sure, you could try and jam two pieces together, but it’ll never be right like this. 

“I told you that I’ll always be here, didn’t I?” you say, still looking at where his hands flex around yours, “I meant that. I don’t know if I could love anyone else.” 

His lips press together so tightly that the colour flees from them. 

“We’ve come too far to give up on this now, Noah. We’ll figure this out, but we need to be better – both of us.”

“I know.” he casts his eyes low, “When we’re back home I’m gonna get myself back into therapy. I promise you that I’ll get myself back on my feet.” 

You free one of your hands from his grasp, so that you can bring it up to his cheek, “We can make it through this. We’ll be alright.” 

Noah eyes you for a moment before he finally speaks up, “Can – can I kiss you?” 

Even if you wanted to, you can’t stop the smile from breaking onto your face, “Please.” 

He surges forward then, pressing his lips to yours so sweetly. He cradles your face in his hands, keeping you close to him until you’re both breathless. 

“I love you, but I think your pasta is about to burn.” you whisper after a few more blissful moments. 

Noah jumps up with a swear, and for the first time in months you can see his previous self break through this shell. 

There’s a tentative plan for the band to return to the stage in late January, giving you another two – almost three months – of this quiet life. Sometimes you think that Noah feels quite comfortable being just a boyfriend and not a trillion other things on top of it. Every day he rises a little easier, seems a little more secure in himself again. Slowly but surely the music returns into his life, and before long he’s pushing his notebook into your field of vision again. 

“Can you have a look at this? I don’t know how I feel about it.” he asks, slumping down next to you. 

You put down your phone and pick the book from his hands. You’ve always loved his boyish handwriting. Something tells you that this isn’t meant for Bad Omens or anyone else's eyes. It’s surprisingly confessional, a somewhat fictionalised account of the last few months that all in all wraps around a single steady thread – you. It’s not a hymn to your efforts, but rather an acknowledgement of everything you had given him and sacrificed because of him. 

Noah's hand wraps around yours. The crowd a few meters away from you roars as the screen changes once again. 

“You’ll be fine, honey.” you soothe, squeezing his hand tightly. 

“Feels like I’m doing this for the first time.” 

It’s been almost a year, of course he’d be a little nervous. But you know that he’ll do his best, and that’s all everyone could ever ask for. 

“I know. I can’t be with you up there, but I’m right here. If you need me, I’ll be right here.”

He nods, more to reassure himself than to acknowledge what you said. 

“You’re almost up.” someone says from behind you.

Noah shakes himself out of his stasis. 

“Alright.” he says to himself, “Wish me luck?” 

“You don’t need luck.” you pull him in for a kiss, “I love you. Go do your thing.” 

“I love you.” 

He steals another kiss, before he pulls that damned ski mask over his head. Just a moment later he’s up the stairs and as soon as you hear their screams you know that the little bit of fear that still sat on his shoulder has melted away.

From your position you can watch the show quite comfortably. It takes Noah a moment to get back into the stage persona, but once they’re through the first song, it feels as if he had never stopped doing it. Seeing him back on his feet like this fills you with absolute joy. 

They’re nearing the end of the set when Noah actually addresses their somewhat forced break. 

“We’ve been away for a little bit. I’m sorry if that messed with your plans, but it was a long time coming. We’re all incredibly thankful for what you’ve made possible for us, and we’ve always tried to give all of that back. Maybe we – I’ve tried a little too hard. What I’m trying to say is that it’s thanks to all of your support that I could take this step back, and I’ll never forget that. But I also have to thank someone else.” he turns towards you, giving you that smile of his that makes you feel as if you’ve just fallen in love with him, “Thank you for everything. I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

Whatever he says after that is drowned out by the cheering of the crowd. Noah leads them into the last song of the set so effortlessly. 

The past months still linger with you, and they will for a while longer. In the end, it was worth every single tear. You’d fought tooth and nail for this – both of you had. And you’re so glad that you did it. 

As soon as the set is over, Noah comes barrelling down the stairs towards you. You’re wrapped into his arms. You return the embrace immediately, holding him to you as tightly as you can. For a long moment, both of you remain silent, content to just hold each other close. 

“Thank you, my love.” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “For everything.”

taglist: @deathblacksmoke @circle-with-me @sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens

@malice-ov-mercy @chels3a-smile @ferduttini @somebodyels3 @itsafullmoon

@shilohrosechicken @poisongirl616 @mysticdoodlez @agravemisstake

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

comfort | kmg

i am feeling icky (physically and mentally and basically in all the ways, send help lol) and as always mingyu is my comfort human so i guess i was just feeling it. reader is mentioned to be an introvert. also reader is in a bad place mentally, lowkey is implied to be a depressive episode (self-insert? hi). kinda sorta from mingyu's pov. pet names used (honey, baby, my love). kinda sorta based on this song (How to Love You Today by Son of Cloud).

mingyu understands the difference between being introverted and being quiet -- after all, he's friends with hoshi, an introvert, who can blow his eardrums at a moment's notice. he's also dating you, and while you're no hoshi, you're definitely not a wonwoo, either.

more than understanding the difference between quiet and introverted, though, he knows you. so he knows that look you have in your eyes -- the hollow, dull look that steals over your features, sometimes for weeks at a time, while you struggle to feel anything at all. he sees it in you now as you stare out the window at the gloomy clouds gathering over the hills.

it's getting bad again. he knows it. you're usually so still when you sleep, and so splendidly expressive while you're awake, but recently that has switched -- your dreams are restless and your sleep-talking more vocal, and you spend more time sitting and staring than you do normally, your face blank and empty, your hands cold whenever he reaches for them. these are the kinds of days that sap you of your saturation, leaving you feeling listless and drained -- times when mingyu has to remind you in gentle tones to eat, to come to bed, to join him in the shower. your mind is not always kind to you, so mingyu has made it his personal mission to be so.

the worst part is, you've stopped singing. when you'd been "just friends", sometimes your constant humming and vocalizing would peeve mingyu when he was trying to concentrate, but after living with you for almost two years, he barely notices it anymore. in fact, he only really notices when you stop, and it's one of his first indicators that something is off about you.

he's been waiting for you to tell him what's going on. usually he can tell you're in a bad state before you can, but mingyu also knows that if he tells you he's noticed, you'll start trying to hide it from him. because you don't want to be a burden. (the thought of you ever being too much for him is laughable to mingyu. he loves you like it's breathing -- just an instinct, something he never even needs to think about, because it's just that easy. every person is heavy sometimes, so why was it so unreasonable for you, his most beloved and treasured person, to believe that he'd willingly carry you, no matter how heavy you got?)

so he waits, staying aware of you always, noting how the dark circles under your hollow eyes get more pronounced. and he worries, of course he does. but he also knows that one day, soon, you'll --

"mingyu?"

he's in the kitchen shredding lettuce for a sandwich for you when he hears it: that tiny voice you use when you're sort of kind of hoping he doesn't turn around to look at you. because you're on the verge of tears, or you look like hell, or a million other reasons that he couldn't care less about. so he turns around. "hey baby. what's up?"

"i...i don't feel good."

that's really all he needs. that's really all it takes, if he's being honest with himself. he goes to you where you hover in the doorway, afraid to take up space, and pulls you into his arms. "i know, honey. i've got you."

there's nothing like the feeling of having your tense muscles relax into him, the way your body releases all that angst as he runs a warm hand up and down your back. you lean your head against his shoulder and repeat, "you got me?" softly, almost embarrassed.

but even as mingyu's heart aches for you -- even as the tears prick the back of his eyes as he thinks of how you must've been suffering -- he feels so grateful. grateful that you trust him. grateful that you feel safe enough to do what he knows is so scary for you. grateful that you choose to do it despite everyone in the past who has made you feel inadequate for needing a hand.

he presses one, two, three kisses to your temple. "i've got you, my love. i've always got you."

[c0eu4]

OP81 | Caught ♡

Summary: after Lando found Y/n and Oscar deep into making out, he forced her to break up with him but she became depressed. So he feel guilty and try to work things out between them.

Warning: depression, y/n trying to kill herself (not detailed) smut, dom!reader, sub!oscar

A/N: here's the part two, hope you'll like it <3

part one - part two

MASTERLIST requests are open

''What the hell happened in your head?!'' Lando was mad. Really mad. It must be the first time she sees him that mad. ''Seriously Y/n! Fuck with Oscar!?'' He clenches his fists so hard they're white.

''Lando, it's not that bad?'' She manages to answer him, extremely afraid of him. She knows he will not hurt her physically, but she's afraid to never see Oscar again.

''Not that bad!? NOT THAT BAD!? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?'' He yells at her and she bursts in tears, too afraid. Lando didn't hug her. He doesn't try to console her. He does nothing.

''I already call mom.'' He says, more calmly but yet strict. ''You take a plane at eight o'clock to return home.''

''What!?'' More tears flow down her cheeks. ''Lando! Please!'' She tries to grab his arms but he withdraws from her embrace violently.

''No. Take responsibility for your actions.'' She doesn't know what to do. She's so sad right now. No more F1? No more Oscar? And no more of her lovely relationship with Lando?

''I hate you!'' It broke Lando's heart. But he hide it. He doesn't answer, leaving the room to go talk to Oscar. When the door close behind him, she burst in tears, again. Why her? Why Lando was so angry at them? She just wanted to be happy with Oscar.

She sit down in the ground, against the bed. She keeps her legs close to her, hiding her head in. She can't stop crying. What is she going to tell to her mom? ''Oh I fucked with Oscar and Lando doesn't like it.''

No. It can't finish like that. They weren't even a couple. They never been a couple. And they might never be a couple. She finds the strength to calm down and make her bags to go back in Great Britain.

She resist to the tentation of calling or texting Oscar. And when she finally can't deal with it anymore, she finds out that he texted her, ''There is nothing between us.'' and he blocked her.

So all of this was nothing? Oscar never liked her? He just wanted to fuck her like a doll and leave her, her relation with her brother ruined?

After the sadness, here comes the angers. She close her suitcase and leave the hotel room. Lando calls her. And she didn't answer. He tries to call her multiple times but she just ignore him, already in the car to go to the airport.

She finally send him a text, ''I'm in the plane.'' She doesn't wait any longer and entered the plane, keeping back her tears.

_ _ _

Times pass and everything goes worst. Y/n is lost. She don't know what to do. Following her brother in his world tour was her job. And now, she has nothing. Well.. she still have the support from her mother. But with Lando, it's not like before. He's cold. He talks to her only when he needs to and he make everything to not see her.

And in all of this, Y/n can't keep her head up. She slowly start to stop eating, she stop to sleep, too busy to cry. She stop to take care of herself, her messy hair were tied in a braid. Big dark circles under her eyes. She can't find a job and start to have money problem. Even if her parents help her, they can't give her 1300£ per month.

She start to think at a solution. An easier solution. Maybe too easy. It's her mother who find her bloody body on the ground of the bathroom. Hopefully, she was still alive. With a lot of scares. But alive.

When Lando saw her in her hospital bed, he understands his error. He threatened to fire Oscar if he tried to hang out with his sister. But what a big error he made.

She who was so beautiful, so kind and caring.. so.. happy.

He destroy her life.

Lando cried for that. During long night, sometimes on the phone with Carlos.

Carlos never came between Lando and Y/n's difficult relationship. He's just Lando's best friend, there's nothing he can do about it. But yet, it's Lando who open it to him. He told him everything, down to the smallest details.

They talk a lot about it. Carlos comfort Lando and helps him to found a solution.

When Y/n got out of the hospital, Lando was there for her. She tried to push him away, not wanting his pity. But he insisted. And little by little, they recreated links. They became closer, more accomplices. But they still hadn't talked about what happened with Oscar.

She's at Lando's place, on the couch. They both was watching a movie but Lando had to answer an important call. He cames back after a few minutes, a big smile on his lips, ''You wanna come to the Belgium Grand Prix with me?'' Her eyes widen. What is he doing? Did he really wants that? ''So that you can see Osc-'' She cuts him off, still angry after what Oscar did with her. ''I don't want to see him.''

Lando was shocked. Why is she reacting like that? He through that she was in love with him. ''But.. what.. well.. I mean.. And the both of you?'' He sit down next to her, seeing her teary eyes. ''He used me.''

And then, Lando remember what he said to Oscar.

Lando pins Oscar against the wall, refraining from hitting him. ''Never approach my sister again.'' Oscar was shocked by Lando's strength. ''But I love her!'' Lando gaze gets angrier, ''No! No you don't!'' Oscar was scared. Not for him. But for her. He was so afraid to loose her. To loose their little eyes contact game at the paddock. To loose the way they were looking at each other. ''Tell her you never liked her. That all of this was nothing. Or maybe you prefer that everyone think you raped my sister?'' It breaks Oscar's heart. But he listens to Lando. What could he do? He can't afford to let Lando spread rumors about him. ''You are a monster you know?'' ''I'm just a good big brother.'' A tear fall down Oscar's cheek when he send her the text and block her.

''Y/n.. please don't be mad..'' He wipe away her tears with his hand. ''Oscar loves you.'' More tears fall down her cheeks. ''No he don't. He told me it. Before blocking me!'' Lando feels so bad. All of this was because of him. ''I.. I threatened him to send you this message.''

She gets up from the couch. ''You did what!?'' Right when everything was going better between her and Lando, they had to argue again. ''I'm sorry Y/n. I tried to protect you!'' ''You tried to protect me!? PROTECT ME!? I had depression, I tried to die because of it and you think you protected me!?'' Now, Lando is crying too. He can't keep back his tears. ''I..'' He doesn't know what to say. ''Of course I'm coming with you for the Grand Prix. I have to talk with this dumbass.''

Lando can't help but chuckle seeing his sister reaction. Yes she was made at him. But in one hand, she understands him. She probably would have react like him.

''When do we go?''

_ _ _

She walks throughout the paddock, looking for Lando. She missed that. Looking for her brother everywhere until she finds him where he's not supposed to be. It remember her something.... Well. It's already Sunday. And Oscar avoided her the past few days.

Lando feels even more bad. He tries to talk with Oscar but after what happened, they were talking only for the camera. Oscar begin to be so cold. Not only with Lando. But with everyone. It was like something in him was broken. And his heart was. He hesitated so many times to reconnect with Y/n. But he was so afraid of what Lando had said. He knew he would be able to do it, to spread this rumors.

After his Dnf, Oscar was so mad at himself. And against Carlos, of course. But he feels so bad that he was about to cry. All of this, all of what happened, it started to overwhelm him.

He sits in his driver's room, still feeling the adrenaline of the race. He doesn't even bother to look the race at his TV, too busy in his thoughts.

But he quickly comes out, hearing someone knocking on his door. He doesn't answer, just wanted to be alone.

''I know you're here.'' This voice. He can recognize it among a thousand. No. Y/n shouldn't be here. He have to stay away from her.

''Oscar, can I enter?'' He still doesn't answer. Hoping that she would go away. ''Please..'' The way she beg him reminds him of that afternoon in his hotel room. He closes his eyes and sigh. ''Come in.'' She doesn't wait any longer and enter the small room, closing the door behind her. The first thing she said let Oscar in shock, ''Lando tell me everything.''

She stand up in front of him, her blue eyes (The same as Lando.) looking at his. Oscar doesn't know what to do. He's so stunned by what he heard. ''I..I'm so-'' She doesn't leave him the time to finish his sentence that she leans forward and kiss him.

Oscar doesn't kiss her back. She remains leaning forward and Oscar can't help but let his eyes slide towards her cleavage.

''Y/n..we..'' He stop his sentence when she gets on his laps, facing him. ''I know you want it. And I want it too.'' She kisses him again but he still doesn't answer to it. So she grabs his hand and put it on her left breast.

And it was like a trigger for Oscar. He let his other hand slide to her ass and kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring the inside of her mouth. She moaned into the kiss as he make her hips moving against his bulge.

''Fuck, I missed this.'' Oscar let his head fall back, Y/n kissing his neck, leaving a few reds marks. ''I need you..'' She helps him remove his racing suit, her hands sliding over his muscles. He then helps her undress her and makes her sit back on his laps. Her now wet and needy pussy rubbing against his hard and fat cock.

''Come in.'' She whiny against his ear, wanting nothing more than feel him inside her. He grabs her hips and helps her impale herself on his fat cock.

She quickly move up and down, his cock sliding perfectly in her tight cunt. ''Oh fuck...Y/n..keep..''

Oscar has never been very oral when it comes to sex. But damn how much he had missed her. ''Yeah yeah yeah.. just like that..'' He keeps encouraging her to go further. She can't keep her moans back as she feels the knot in her lower abdomen slowly untied.

She hides her head in the crook of his neck, keeping back her orgasm. ''Cum f'me baby.'' She doesn't need anything more to drowning his cock with her liquid. Oscar keep trusting in her a few more time and he milks her with his own hot seed.

They regain their breathing, Oscar coming out of her with one last little moan.

''It felt so good.'' She chuckle, kissing him again. ''I missed you.'' He rub his nose against hers. ''I love you. I love you so much Y/n. You can't imagine it.'' She was so surprised to see him showing that much his emotion. Her eyes watered with joy as he kiss her cheek again.

''Aww.. sugar don't cry.'' It made her tears rolling down her cheeks. He hugs her tightly, pressing her breasts against his chest.

They continue to cuddle, making up for all the time they lost together.

But the end of the race comes faster than expected and Lando returns to his driver room, right next to Oscar's.

And unfortunately for Lando, he had the honor of hearing his sister cum under Oscar's licks.

He tried not to get upset. After all, it was said that they looked good together. And Oscar is a good guy. He would never hurt his sister.

So if he's going to have to put up with all their moans, he will.

Because after all. Lando is a good big brother who only wants his sister to be happy.

[koolades-world]

Helloooo it's me again back with another obey me request :)

Could I get the Demon bros with a depressed MC? I'm having a rough time rn and I just need some comfort but ofc feel free to ignore if u don't do requests like these!!

Have a nice day/night!! ♡☆♡☆♡

hi! of course! sorry I'm so late on this!!! also love your pfp (huge pjsekai fan)

Part of the reason I took so long is because I just didn’t know where to start

I love the demon bro I wanna squeeze them like a squishmellow and they’ve gotten me thorough some tough stuff

it's hard for me to articulate anything relating to depression just because I struggle to open up about it especially after my diagnosis. I don’t think anyone except my mom knows only because she was in the room at the time, and all you guys now of course haha

sorry if that was worded so weird and if anything below is worded weird but it’s just hard for me to find words to put together how I’m feeling but writing is my therapy so thank you for this request :)

Brothers with a depressed Mc

Lucifer

would def notice something was up right away from the first meeting, not because of how you acted, but just because it's Luci

once he officially found out, he made all arrangements needed right away

you need a few days off school? you got it, he's already talking to diavolo

you need a break from chores? you got it, he distributed the work among the rest of the family

there's only one thing you feel like eating? you got it, it's what everyone is eating for dinner

supportive in a quiet way, and does all sorts of little things to lighten the load

Mammon

as your first and best man, he acts as your knight and is willing to do anything to help you out

he tries his best to correct his own bad habits so you can work together on yourself

like, for example, if you struggle to get out of bed in the morning, he will get up and moving earlier so you can be up at the same time

nobody is perfect! he tells you this all the time because he knows how dark everything might seem sometimes

he partially understands how you feel since being the family punching bag for hundreds of years takes a toll on someone

he’s with you in every step of your journey, ups and downs, no matter what

Levi

he often has his own self deprecating thoughts, so he knows what you’re dealing with

everyone copes in their own ways but he hopes by sharing all the things he loves, he can bring some happiness

he shared everything with you, both his physical possessions and his thoughts

if you prefer to just sit together, he can do that, but if you want to talk about it, he will do his best to also share how he’s feeling

he wants you to be able to use him as a support system and as someone to fall back on

he always tries to bring a smile to your face and to be someone you trust, despite his own flaws

Satan

he shows you the little joys in life, the ones you might struggle or forget to see like sunsets and how the clouds change color with the sky, or how soft flower petals can be, or how a smile can change someone’s entire day

often he invites you out to places, for no reason at all so you can enjoy everything, especially the sun

he takes you on trips to the human world to visit your favorite places and occasionally see your favorite people if he’s allowed

he helps you with school work and takes the load when ever he can

if you asked him, he would do anything for you <3

Asmo

he always helps you out with your personal hygiene since often, that's what goes first

it's much easier to keep a routine if someone is doing it with you, and Asmo would never forget, so he help keep you on track

but, he's also not pushy about it. if you'll let him, he'll do some of the tasks for you, no strings attached

he's with you at your worst and best. he's not going anywhere

he's determined to be your personal cheerleader and will celebrate all the small things with you

Beel

at first, he's a little shocked at the changes in eating patterns, but supports you when ever and where ever you need it

if he knows there's only one food you will eat, he will physically restrain himself from eating it because he knows how much it means to you

exercise helps but he knows it's probably the last thing you want to do, so he helps you though little bits at a time and takes you out to get a reward afterwards

spending time with you makes him happy, so he figures it must be the same the other way around so he makes an effort to just be with you, even if its just sitting together while you do different things

often finds himself seeking you out just to ask how you are by instinct, proving what a sweetheart he is

Belphie

an interrupted or strange sleep cycle is something he would for sure notice

he becomes the biggest cuddle bug and will often give you sleepy kisses

when you're resting, he'll give you sweet dreams that will leave you feeling warm and fuzzy afterwards

he makes an effort to make the bed just how you like it, and before long makes it a habit to join you in your room for naps and bedtime

he doesn't mind if you wake up at weird time and will wait with you as long as you need to get up

thank you again for such the long wait! hope you enjoyed and hope you're feeling better now <333

[jester-lover]

Boys Don't Cry

comforting your boy when he needs it the most (part 1)

cw- angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, body insecurities, mortality, discussions of depression, unbearably sweet

Riddle

Riddle tried to wipe his face with the edges of his bedspread, everything was going wrong. Ace and Deuce ruined his tea party, half of his guests didn’t show up, and he spilled tea all over himself. 

If his mother was here, she’d mock him for his emotion, his insolence and inability to keep his composure.

 His lower lip quivered, and he broke out into sobs again. 

The worst part of it all, however, was that you were there. You saw how he lost his temper and yelled at the freshmen, losing all of his gentlemanly composure.

He turned around and faced the long mirror against his dresser, his face was red and swollen with tears, and his nice new shirt was ruined. 

He felt like a fool.

Riddle got up out of bed, looking to go speak with Trey about further action, when he saw you standing in the doorway, a soft smile on your face. His tears bubbled up again.

“I’m so so s-sorry I didn’t mean for-”

You leaned in closer and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His arms found their place against your waist.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault, you have nothing to apologize for.”

His sobs were muffled by the shoulder of your shirt, as you kissed his hairline and rubbed his back.

“Let it all out Riddle, cry as much as you need to, I’ll be here.”

His tears quelled as your hands moved up to brush against his hair. His arms against your waist tightened.

Leona 

Leona looked out the big window in his room, he slowly undid the braids in his hair, taking deep unordered breaths.

His brother had sent a letter again, asking for him to return for a visit over summer. Deep down, Leona knew Farena had good intentions, but the idea of returning to the palace made bile rise up his throat. 

He reached for the hairbrush on his side, only to realize tears had begun blurring his vision. 

Leona couldn’t understand why he hated his brother, who had only been kind with him. Maybe it was the press constantly comparing the two of them, or the sense of inferiority he felt around him. Whatever it was, he didn’t care. He didn't want to see Farena, not when he’s finally beginning to feel content.

The tears began rolling down, and Leona wiped them off furiously. His hands were shaking and he dropped the brush back onto his bed. His shoulders shook too.

“Leona.”

His head snapped toward the door, you stood there, still and frowning. He just stared at you.

“Do you need some help with your hair?”

Leona nodded, his head down, hoping you wouldn't see the tear tracks on his face. You moved to kneel on the bed beside him, breath touching his ear. Slowly, you untangled the knots along his nape, slowly adjusting to move near his forehead, keeping your hand steady,as to not to catch a knot too fast. Leona continued to stare outside, into the falling sun. He was thinking again. 

Slowly, after you finished with his hair, you wrapped your arms around his still shoulders. He brought one of his hands to rub your arm, leaning back against your touch.

“You deserve more than this.”

His words have a sense of tiredness to them, like he’s been meaning to say them for a while.

“I’ve got everything I need, everything I could ever want.”

You can see his reflection in the glass, his smile.

Azul

The door of his office slammed shut, Azul looked at himself with disdain, breaking apart all the points of himself he didn’t like.

 The silence of his sanctuary helped him think back, to all those moments as a chubby little octopus. His thoughts turned to the stretch marks on his back and hips, and he went to go sit at his desk.

 Moments of self hatred had slowly dissipated as his career and reputation grew, but deep inside he knew he’d always be that little boy, crying his inky tears. 

He put his head in his hands. No tears came, only thoughts swirled around his head.

“Azul, would you like to help me solve this?”

You stood by the end of his desk, he didn't notice you come in, and he raised his head up to look at you. You held a small wood puzzle in your hand.

His stupid self hatred disappeared, and a feeling of warm fuzziness rose in his chest. His regular charisma returned.

“Of course I would.”

Vil

A crumpled mass of magazines littered the floor of Vil’s room, he was hunched over his vanity in a display that ashamed him. 

A new poll was entered into his favorite fashion magazine, pitting him and Neige against each other. 

Niege had won by a landslide.

Vil’s mascara ran down his cheeks, he wished you were there to comfort him, but you were busy doing whatever Crowley had planned for you. He was proud of your hard work of course, but as he desperately wiped his makeup away with cleanser, he knew he needed you by his side. 

knock knock

“U-um please wait a moment, I need to recuperate myself.”

The last thing he needed was an annoying freshman or nosy sophomore disrupting him.

“Vil, dear it's just me, could you please open the door?”

He rose out of his chair in a hurry, reaching for the door and pulling it open, quickly shutting it after you.

At this point his shoulders were heaving, and his breathing was uneven as his hands curled at his shirt, digging back into his palms. 

“Hey, hey Vil, it’s gonna be fine, it’ll all be fine.”

He reached for you quickly, pulling you against his chest, brushing his hands against your head, his other wrapped snugly around your waist. He was silent.

“What happened, Vil?”

He turned his red face towards you, grasping your face in his hands, and pressing your foreheads together until his breathing slowly turned normal again.

“I don’t know, maybe- maybe this was the final straw, I’ve just had a terrible week and now my runway shoot is delayed and I think they might drop me-”

His sobbing started up again, and he went back to hugging you, head pressed firmly into your shoulder. 

“I understand, Vil, feeling like the world is turning its back on you.”

Your fingers brushed his back, and his hands loosened.

“Around me, you're free to do whatever you need, I can never see you in a negative light.”

Vil beamed.

Idia

Idia felt himself weasel his head out of the thick bed sheets, his messy hair clearly not cared for. There was knocking on his door, and he quickly looked at the security cameras. 

It was you, looking as radiant as the sun. He looked down at his pajamas.

Slowly he opened the door, and you gave him a hug and littered kisses all over his face.

He turned a little red, and looked at the ground. By this point, he would have asked to play a game or watch an anime, but he was silent.

“Hey, Idia, are you okay? Is something wrong?”

He smiled a little at how quickly you could read his mood. Your hand moved up and grasped the side of his jaw.

“Don’t you ever want a more adventurous boyfriend?”

You looked at him with a puzzled look on your face, mouth slowly turning into a frown.

“I much prefer you, Idia.”

His face fell, tears beaded at his eyes as your second hand came up to cup his face.

Idia felt like a tall child.

“You could have anyone.”

His voice was quiet and still.

“But I only want you.”

Idia leaned down and pressed a kiss on your forehead.

Malleus

The cool night air kissed malleus’s skin as he waited for you to come out of Ramshackle. He watched you slip out of the door and come up to him, pressing a kiss against his hand. 

The only thing Malleus saw was the large bandage on your cheek. He grazed the spot with the back of his fingers.

“Child of man, what happened here?”

You laughed and grasped his hand. 

“I was walking through the forest looking for clean branches for the fireplace, and I tripped over a root.”

Malleus thought for a second, a fall of that nature wouldn't even phase him, he would probably not even fall in the first place with his natural grace.

For you however, such an incident would leave a permanent scar, he wouldn't like to think about what would have happened if you had hit your head, alone in those unforgiving woods.

Flashes of fear ran through his head, regarding your mortality and human clumsiness. 

He went quiet, even more than usual, and squeezed your hand.

Malleus knew that one day you’d leave him, grow older and slip through his fingertips like the wind. Normally he ignored such thoughts, choosing to spend every hour cherishing you, but now a sense of dread filled him and he felt weak to the power of natural order. Suddenly he turned around, giving you a firm hug around the shoulders. 

“Malleus, what’s up, are you okay?”

He kissed your head, leaning down to look at you.

“Do you ever think of your mortality?”

He could see the wires turn in your head, and you gave him a sweet smile.

“Sometimes, but then I remember how happy I am, spending all of my days with you.”

His eyes closed for a moment, before opening again.

“Your life is fickle, short, and the most valuable thing in my world.”

He parted from your embrace.

“I wish to make your life as enjoyable as possible, especially as you rule by my side.”

Malleus saw tears brimming in your eyes. He smiled.

“Your life will be spent laughing and smiling, but after it ends I will spend forever yearning for you.”

The tears fell as you leaned against him.

“I will love you until my last breath, Malleus.”

“And I will too, Child of Man.”

Sebek

“How annoying can he get?”

“Someone doesn't understand noise control.”

“Stay away from him, he’ll make your ears hurt.”

Sebek had grown used to ignoring the lingering words he heard in the halls, and he held his head up high. No matter how often he felt unimportant in human spaces, he knew he always had a place with you.

“Human! How did your classes go today?”

You smiled at him, grabbing his hand and walking alongside him.

“How can someone like them like someone like him? He’s insufferable.”

Sebek turned his head around, but whoever said it had already disappeared into the crowd of students.

He turned his head back in shame, something about being insulted around you made him feel insecure and upset.

“Whoever said that clearly hasn’t ever been passionate about anything.”

Sebek turned to look at you, he was quiet for once.

“Listen, no matter what anyone says about you, you have joy in your job in a way none of those idiots will ever feel.”

Sebek could feel his smile start to show again.

“Of course you think that! Any human would be glad to spend time with the retainer of the great Malleus Drac-”

AN/my sincere apologies to all the Kalim fans, I seriously couldn’t think of anything for him

[hryniewiecki]

Grand Arcane S2 review

because I really need it to move on

Remember how I mentioned I could write an entire book about everything that went wrong with this season? Well, this is what a little excerpt from it would look like.

Let's start with a personal note to clarify my relationship with this hell of a piece of media.

S1 was this miracle show that was able to break through the several years of depression and anhedonia and make me interested in something, make me try to get back into making art (or at least try to try), to put myself out there on the internet a bit, to try be a part of something and not ashamed of enjoying it, which I never allowed myself before. Coincidentally, I've been at what I thought then was the worst place in my life when it aired and it helped me a lot to get through it. I didn't even think I would make it to see S2, as thee years felt like forever then. Taking all that into consideration, I think you can already tell where this is going.

I honestly thought I was prepared for S2 not being good, as no show could be this perfect. Turns out I wasn't prepared at all. Act 1 made me very happy, so happy I watched it two times, but the rest is something I would've never watch again and rather forget about.

The characters I wanted to see the most were Warwick (body horror, The Wrath of Zaun haunting the streets - got just a glimpse of that, but it felt like nothing) and Viktor (cyborgs and cyber gore, misunderstood idealist, Blitzcrank - got basically nothing; the idea was kinda there somewhere, but got changed so much it didn't matter at all).

I can't believe they took a godforsaken champion like Viktor and not only ruined his story completely, but also managed to fuck up everything else by all of a sudden making him a center of all of this mess. The center being the arcane/hextech/magic, which never even gets resolved/explained. Still no idea why it got corrupted and what was the nature of it; the void was never taken anywhere despite being heavily hinted - everything was evil because it was, but luckily the magic of friendship saved us!! (I'll get to that)

Speaking of crucial plotlines that weren't taken anywhere.. Basically every character got screwed over and made empty. Let's use Vi for a quick example (may not actually be the best example, but hopefully you'll get what I mean) - when I saw the pit fighter scene released early, I expected to see it have a continuation in the show, but instead it ended up just being the exact same music video, nothing more. And that goes for some more events - they get compressed into music videos that make it all incredibly hollow. Fight scenes are fine like this, sure, but not something that was supposed to be a bit more emotional and serious. Anyway, they successfully made me hate most of the characters. Either hate or just straight up not recognize them, and in a bad way.

Long story short the pacing is awful (it only gets back to normal in ep7, as it resembles the structure of S1) and the writing sucks ass. I can't for the love of god believe it was written alongside S1. There's no way in hell - it's literally all the worst fan theories I've seen come to life and get mixed with fanservice. *puts on a tinfoil hat* Maybe this is the real why they needed an extra year or two, as S2 was initially supposed to be released earlier. No way in hell the same people who wrote S1 and cared so much about the characters would do anything like this. Riot must've gotten heavily involved, making us believe they cut the story short (I think 5 seasons in Piltover/Zaun were planned initially?) for the benefit of it, but all it really was is greed - let's make a bunch of bullshit happen and quickly move to another region to sell more skins for new champions.

Now let's get back to the ending. Man, it really had it all - the nonsense, the multiverse bullshit which basically makes nothing make sense anymore (if there was anything left), the (yes, I'm going to say it, because that's exactly what I felt) cringe and embarrassment. Never seen anything more hollow trying to convince me it was deep and emotional (sums up the whole show perfectly).

How the hell the only thing that was supposed to save Viktor from himself was Jayce telling him he's perfect the way he is? Sure, don't try to cure your illness (that my city caused, but "fortunately" another crucial part of the plot, which is the sister cities conflict, ceased to exist), it makes you beautiful, this is who you are (miserable, unwanted, feeling meaningless and like a burden, dying). I am at loss of words.

Now buckle up jayvik fans. I wasn't a fan of the ship as I'm not a fan of any ships in general, but now I despise it. I wouldn't mind if they actually went on with it, which no, they didn't. We don't want two men kissing (women making out is fine tho, won't make the gamers too angry), so let's play extra safe to make sure it could be explained as any type of other close bond (and that's exactly what Christian Linke does when asked about it). You disgusting cowards, either you show me this in plain sight and I wouldn't give it a second thought, or don't even try bring it up at all (and you can't deny it wasn't implied in S1 with all the Viktor's looks and parallels to Mel).

Where do I even begin? Because I don't think you have any idea on how many levels it actually sucks. If you read it as romantic it's basically telling me that if I was a gay man struggling with my feelings and not being able to confess for years, because I'm convinced I'm unworthy of love as something is inherently wrong with me, then the best I could get after surviving all this (what honestly seems like hell) is a hug, because you're ashamed of me and thus I should be ashamed of who I am till the very end.

Something equally bad is Jayce finding out (or rather we finding out) how wonderful the world could look like if he let go of his beautiful dream, his life's work, and killed himself - it never gets denied, as the corruption of hextech doesn't get explained.

Long story short, if you're struggling with your mental health, trauma issues, disability or any of the problems the characters you related to deal with, this show spits you in the face.

I could go on forever about everything that's wrong (even Jinx got played dirty), but let's finish with the few things I liked: act 1 was promising (it's when I believed they could still make sense of Viktor), fun Sevika's arcade arm fight, the epic fight at the Janna's temple (Woodkid goat), Jayce killing Salo (I felt something) and Jayce's glitchy madness in general, young Vander flashback (felt something), ep7 and Singed's story (the only one that makes any sense).

Other than that the show left me with nothing but void in my heart (I guess that's when it all went). The saddest thing being the masses love it anyway, as it seems they'll watch anything that's colorful enough. And Riot will make lots of money of off it, because in the end they never loose. I'm not denying Fortiche absolutely outdid themselves with the art, it's just heartbreaking nothing else even remotely stands up to it.

[hidtired]

A Single Punch [Part 4]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Description: The line up ended with people thinking you died. However, your recovering at Hilltop with severe injury's. How will the rest of your family react to seeing you again, even Negan?

2.1k words

Warnings (much angst, injury, near death, depression, recovery, typical walking dead shenanigans) [Happy ending, fluff <3]

(Daryl Dixon x reader) Masterlist

Rick POV

They decided that the Saviors had to go. Headed to Hilltop to gather support. Rosita also said there was something there for them that had to be seen to be believed. He was hoping for good news for once. With finding out they had Sasha and even the whole Carl stunt, and the two Alexandria lives lost, with them also taking Eugene, he was due for a break.

So to his surprise he saw Daryl turn the corner. He was surprised but the only thought he could think of was you.

“Thank you, for being my family.”

Guilt ate him. He still moved to embrace his brother. He knew what it felt like to lose something like that. He also felt responsible for bringing you. He knew he shouldn’t but couldn’t help thinking if he didn’t… Daryl seemed broken to see him. Knowing him for so long as he had, never thought he would see the gruff guy simply crumpled at the sight of him. It made him tear up a little at the thought.

He looked more beaten than the last he saw him at Alexandria. He was holding up better than he thought he would. Everyone else hugged him but Rick had to say something, “Brother I’m so sorry… Y/N… if I didn’t- she wouldn’t have been there if I didn’t ask her to come.” Daryl only smiled at your name mentioned, ok that unnerving him. Maybe he wasn’t doing as well as he thought. When Rosita seemed shocked to see him he was confused, ‘Wasn’t this what she was talking about?’

Daryl pulled out Ricks gun handing it to him, Daryl finally talking in a breath after all the attention. “Wasn’ your fault. You should know-“ Carls loud gasp made Rick turn to his son. He was looking over Daryl’s shoulder, tears starting to brim in his eye. It was hard to get tears out that boy so, Rick followed his eye line.

“No, I’m not a walker-“

You. Jesus leading you by his arm. The sounds of people stuttered gasps at the sight of you, making their hearts drop. Carl had run into a hug. Daryl chuckled, “Ya, that’s what I was gonna mention.” Rick put a hand to his mouth, an attempt to hold himself together. He put a hand to Daryl to walk past him to you. He had mentally beaten himself up about you. Feeling like the blood was on his hands. You were like a little sister. He joined Carl to hug you. Soon following Michonne and Tara.

“It’s good to see you all.” You looked well… beaten to hell. But it was a drastically better image than the last they were left with of you. When everyone pulling away from you, you seemed to struggle to find your center of gravity. It was Daryl that was behind you with a arm around your waist as you half leaned back into him.

It was Michonne who panicked thinking you were going to fall, “Are you ok?” You gave a small smile and shrugged, “You know, just brain damage.” You sighed at the still serious faces pointed at you. Rick could hear it in your speech, the weird places your voice would fluctuate.

“I’ll be ok, the worst of it is over. I’m just… relearning somethings again.” Your eyes now red from tears shed from happiness of your family back, “Long story short, took the hit-t to the hand, didn’t blackout immediately. But later woke up -later in the truck.” Rick closed his eyes soaking the information in. “I’m so sorry if I just let you stay at Alexandria you wouldn’t have had to go through any of it.” The face you gave him was like that you’d give at a child dissolvingly, “You didn’t hit me with that bat.” That silenced everyone for a moment into thought. It was Jesus that pulled his focus back.

"Why are you all here anyways?"

Your POV

They were going to fight the saviors. They need the support from Hilltop and that lead them here, Gregory's office. He was a coward that much you knew. Maggie was at a constant stand off with him your whole time here. It was Daryl's voice pulling you out of thought, "So what your just gonna wait till they decide something isn't enough and start killing some of you?" Daryl shock his head, "As long as its not you though, right?"

“She made it out of it can’t you just take that as a win and count your losses?" Gregory pointing to you next to Daryl. "See I’m happy that your little girlfriend-“

“Wife.”

Everyone’s eyes widened and just looked to each other before just accepting that little info letting you continue. “If you would like to remain not knowing what being beat-t half to death feels like, I’d suggest-st listenin to them.” Gregory’s eyebrows furrowed deeper, “Are you threatening me after my hospitality to you?” You tilted your head to the side 'Jesus really was the one to help', “Not at all. That-t day will come at the hands of your buddies you’re so found of.” It was clear this prick of a man lacked a back bone. He wouldn’t change his mind. You were going to get worked up if you argued any longer so you waved your hand in front of you before slowly walking out the front door. You were done with it. The others could deal with it.

It was later that Jesus said he knew of another place that they could ask. You were going to go with at the suggestion of a doctor. That's what lead you in the back of a car, Rick driving and Michonne in the passenger seat. Carl was staring at you from his place next to you, "Go ahead and ask." You turned to him with a knowing look. Carl perked up and tried to look away like he wasn't caught, "Nothing, just still can't believe your here." You hummed, "How's little Jude." That got him talking, completely forgetting his originally thought as he gushed about his baby sister. It was Rick to ask the next question, "So its Mrs. Dixon now is it?" Your attention turning to the man in question. He had taken his motorcycle, you didn't want him to worry you'd fail off. You looked at Rick in the review mirror. You were slightly bashful, "Bout damn time I know." That caused laughs to ring in the car. Maybe everything was going to be ok.

Meeting this 'king' was a experience. A man with a tiger was a very big first impression. The big thing to put everyone at ease was that Morgan had been here. Rick however was a little unhappy of him trying to talk about is peace stuff. "They killed Glenn and Abraham, right in front of us... Among a few at home like Olivia and Spencer. Hell I only found out Y/N didn't die with them." You were uncomfortable with eyes looking to you. 'Didn't die with them...' Survival guilt had been eating at you. But, it seemed to snap Morgan into a apology.

You felt a hand slipping behind your back, Daryl. He try comforting you and you appreciated it. The Kings decision was made in the morning, and like Hilltop didn't go to plan. It was offered that you and Daryl could stay. With your injurie and Daryl on the run Rick agreed. Much to a displeased Daryl at him not having a choice he wasn't to apposed to you being there.

The place was rather nice. Guy name Jerry offered some cobbler and it was one of the best things you had in a while. You had meet with the Doctor while Daryl try getting Ezekiel on board, by Ricks request. Daryl found you at the table with your cobbler. He sat next to you looping a arm around your back. He had a displeased look on his face. "I found Carol." You look up from your plate to him, "She ok?" He made a face that said not really, "She doesn't know about everything that happened yet. I just couldn't say anything." He looked down ashamed. She did seem a little out of it the last you saw here. You nodded at his statement, "She around?" Daryl shock is head, "On the outskirts of the place."

You both remained silent until you broke it, "I see you want to help. You can go you know?" Daryl only scoffed at the suggestion, "Nah." You smiled, "I can try and convince-ce the King. While you fight the fight." He gave you a look that told you he was struggling to leave your side.

"I'll be here."

You raised you eyebrows to him, "Your eating yourself alive by not doing anything. I see that." He inhaled and started to nod, "Assholes need to pay for what they did." You patted the hand that was around you, "Always so passionate, one of the many reasons I love you." He grunted, "uh-huh knock it off women." You loved making him fidget at your words of praise. "That anyway to be talking to you wife?" He finally looked down at you with a small smirk, "Sure as hell made it known earlier." You shrug with you now the one being bashful.

That evening you waved Daryl off to get into the fight. With promises to kick his ass if he got hurt. You spent your days mostly with a doctor trying to heal. You were getting there. You didn't have anything much going on other then that. One of the few things to happen was seeing Carol. She seemed surprised to see you and embraced you, "Morgan told me what happened." She looked ashamed, "He said you almost died to." You nod, "Closer then I ever been." Your voice seemed close to normal again, you still put most of your focus in walking. Carol looked you up and down, taken notice to your hair growing back in the place that was shaven. Your face still some colors of yellows and greens.

The war had its ups and down but you had won it in the long run. By the next time Daryl saw you were moving independently. He retold his story's to you. The knowledge of Carl passing saving someone and his role in the win. His talk with Maggie about 'Glenn and how he would have likely had like his death mean something.' Mentioning Aaron took in a baby Rick found in a saviors outpost. Also mentions of Morales someone from the old quarry days and how he killed him. He expressed his dislike for the decision Rick made to keep Negan alive. You didn't like it much either but life went on. Daryl took you to Alexandria not wanting you to deal with the Sanctuary. You wanted to talk to Negan but said nothing to Daryl about it.

You have a foggy remembrance of the guy. Early one morning you went to confront him. He was laid down facing the wall. So you stood quietly leaning against the wall opposite to the bars. He turned at the feeling of a presence. "If your here to kill me I think there is a line." Ah right, smug asshole. You step closer to the bars, you could feel Negan's demeaner drop. "What? Looks like you saw a ghost..." He only look you up and down considering maybe he had lost it, "Well if it isn't the little Plague herself." That's right, he had called you that before trying to kill you. "I killed you if I'm not mistaken, Daryl sure as hell tried killing me for it." You nodded, "Well you seemed to have missed." You turn to leave getting what you wanted. The information you forgot and scaring him, you turned before leaving, "Or did you?" He sat there thinking maybe he ha lost it and imagined you.

That made you smug about it the rest of the day. If you couldn't kill him, you'd make him feel like he had one foot in the grave just like you thought you were.

The end.

Feedback welcomed and requests open!

My Masterlist for more Daryl ( Masterlist )

Lost a little motivation to write most parts in here, its stuff y'all already knew so.