#if they had actually done ANYTHING to make sense of what i was ACTUALLY experiencing instead of giving me a fucking cop out answer

[pepprs]

ok so. today i am going to

fly (and travel at all) by myself for the first time since making the emergency return home from br!ghton bc of c0vid 4 years ago (extremely distressing and scary experience). and fly by myself two weeks after a mixed bag of a conference experience / plane ride home that included a massive scary depressive spiral that i had someone there to help me through as much as they could but it wasn’t enough which was absolutely not their fault but was deeply distressing to me at the time. so im about to be in a very similar environment but this time that person won’t be physically with me and it’s going to wreck my brain in multiple directions in part bc i have not yet recovered from the depressive spiral. i am still in it. lawl <3

ride in an uber by myself for the first time. ride in an uber at all for maybe the 5th time. as a very short young woman. which i have been expressedly warned by my parents not to do. lol <3

check into a hotel by myself for the first time

walk in a big city by myself for the first time (technically slightly untrue bc wjen i was last in ch!cago 5 years ago i did power walk from the hotel to the conference venue (like a block away) on the last day bc i was pissed about a situation but that was like… a block and i saw ppl i knew walking in that area. this time i will be in the same city and know no one at least for today

give myself a self care evening at the recommendation of my therapist…. for the first time. (maybe after i take a walk which i will do specifically when it’s still light out to see what the area is like). tonight no one i know will be in ch!cago yet and i have no plans to do anything. im going to play video games and draw and sing and give myself space and time to just enjoy being by myself and see how it goes

[melaks]

wow i get it now.

[cherrybomb107]

I literally wouldn’t have cared if they decided to pull a Cyberpunk Edgerunners and kill off our entire main cast save for one or two characters and let the bad guys(the establishment) win. Tragedy isn’t the problem. The problem is the way they went about it. The show had so many plot threads to tie up, there was never any time to truly reckon with all the tragedies that were occurring.

Ekko losing his tree because of Arcane poisoning would be tragic. Notice I said “would be” because that plot line is literally never addressed again. It gets brought up, and then forgotten about. Vi being hit by her girlfriend after she makes the decision to put on the uniform of her oppressors and contribute to oppressing her own people in pursuit of a little sister who she can’t accept has changed is tragic on multiple levels! That’s some compelling shit! But the show never meaningfully addresses these issues or lets Vi react to them without throwing her into a new situation where she has to fight and lose something again. All Vi has ever done her entire life is try and fail to protect her loved ones. She gets punished for trying. It’s almost like the universe itself is out to get her! But we never see Vi break down and pick herself back up. We never see her make any choices to do what’s best for her. The plot decided for her and that’s the problem!

Vi and Jinx deciding to go their separate ways after all that they’ve been through would’ve been tragic. These two sister who love each other more than anything having to break apart for who knows how long and holding onto the hope that maybe they can reunite and be sisters again is gut wrenching…or at least it WOULD be if they actually decided to separate! Vi didn’t decide to leave her sister, Jinx didn’t decide to leave Vi, the narrative forced them apart! The narrative keeps ripping them away from each other and it’s starting to feel intentional. Trying to tell the audience that the only way Vi can truly be happy and choose herself is by having her baby sister die and being forced to live with her girlfriend in a city that will be extremely discriminatory towards her is not it. I’m not saying that Vi and Jinx have to ride off into the sunset together. But I am saying that if going their separate ways really was for the best, the show wouldn’t spend so much time trying to convince us of that. It would just happen organically. Which, to me, it didn’t

Jinx losing Isha was yet another tragedy! But the show doesn’t really show Jinx grieving and then deciding to fight for what she believes in after Ekko convinces her to try. She tried to kill herself five times. FIVE TIMES!!! How on Earth did she go from that to a badass piloting an airship, dripped out with her new outfit and steeled sense of resolve? We don’t know because it happened offscreen! I understand the show had time constraints, but come on. This plot line deserved more time to shine. Sevika being on the Council is a tragedy. It’s an empty gesture for one, and majority rules for two. That means Sevika will be forced to try to barter for Zaun’s freedom while being surrounded by a bunch of classist Piltie pricks who despise her and everything she stands for. She will be talked over and talked down to. That’s not a happy ending! But the show frames it like it is! And I’m sorry but if you can’t watch interviews of the writers saying their thoughts on the show and you genuinely believe that they have the range to write Sevika being on the Council as thoughtful commentary? No comment😭😭😭

Caitlyn’s corruption arc is yet another tragedy! Both because of what happened to her AND the fact that the arc wasn’t done! Caitlyn’s arc was supposed to show how no matter how “good” and “kind” a privileged person believes them self to be, their unconscious bias and prejudice against the out group will rear its ugly head the second they experience a fraction of what the marginalized group has been experiencing for centuries. It was so easy for Caitlyn to say “I understand now. How easy it is to hate them.” “Those animals!” “I thought you were different, but you’re not. It’s her blood in your veins!” How easy it was for her to weaponize The Gray. How easy it was for her to work with Ambessa and co sign martial law despite knowing better. How easy it was for her to risk killing a child just to get to Jinx. That’s super compelling! But the problem is we never see Caitlyn wrestle with her decisions. Guilt should be eating her ALIVE and all we get is a complete 180 from her after a time skip! Then she does nothing to redeem herself! And once again, no the writers absolutely did not intend that to be commentary on how the privileged are able to get away with things the lower class would be imprisoned/killed for. If they did then Caitlyn could’ve had a confrontation with someone from Zaun, whether that be Sevika, Ekko, Jinx, Vi or someone else, where they call her out on her hypocrisy. Then we would see her wrestle with that and realize the monster that she’s become.

Unfortunately, all these tragedies are not given the proper narrative weight they deserve. Or they’re not treated as tragedies when they so clearly are! THAT’S the problem! It’s not tragedy, it’s the framing! And it’s the way y’all are so condescending whenever someone criticizes the show. Why is every single critique met with “You didn’t watch/understand the show”? Why is it always “What were you expecting?” “You’re just mad it didn’t go your way.” “You’re just a hater.” “You have no idea how hard writing a script is.” “They planned the story from the beginning, this is how it was supposed to be.” And on and on and on. It’s exhausting! Why is it so hard for y’all to understand that it is possible to understand and have love for something but still have gripes with it? It doesn’t mean I love the show any less! It just means I’d love it even more if not for these certain aspects of it. That’s it, that’s all��🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

[tvgirlie24]

Not Enough pt.2

After that gruesome training session Alexia desperately tries to fix things between the two of you, you’re having none of it.

Angst (some fluff?)

part 1

The first thing that you felt upon regaining consciousness was an unbearable headache. You didn't think you've ever experienced anything like this. You were uncomfortable, in pain and overall just really confused. The last thing you could remember was someone telling you to keep your eyes open everything else was pretty much a haze. You've made the mistake of trying to open your eyes now, but you were immediately blinded by the intense light of the room and quickly closed them again. The rest of your senses were slowly coming back as well, as you could hear someone quietly talking close to you. There were more voices as well, but you couldn't quite tell who it was. You tried moving your arm as you could feel a needle poking your skin but the second you moved someone held your arm down.

"You're awake! Oh, thank god, you had us scared for a second." Ingrid? Again? Not that you expected anyone else really but even Ingrid being here with you was surprising enough. Despite knowing that she stood up for you yesterday it still didn't make sense why all of a sudden she was so interested in providing you support. Maybe she felt sorry for you?

"Uhh, what the fuck?" Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. 

"You passed out, like an hour ago, we were starting to consider taking you to the hospital if you didn't wake up. Do you not remember?"

"I just remember feeling really dizzy and that’s pretty much it."

"You should've said something if you didn't feel well you know, that was pretty irresponsible, you could've hurt yourself." Whilst you knew Ingrid’s scolding came from a place of worry you really didn’t appreciate her words right now. As if it was your fault. Partially yes, but no one stepped in when Alexia was taking it too far. No one stood up for you, and you were at fault? 

���As if me saying I didn’t feel good would’ve done anything.” You murmured and Ingrid gave you a sympathetic look. 

You slowly sat up, with the help of Ingrid and looked around. A physio was next to you, checking your vitals and on the other side of the room was the last person you wanted to see right now. Alexia, looking all guilty and it seemed as though she wanted to say something but kept changing her mind at the last minute. 

You got tired of waiting after she opened and closed her mouth for the fourth time. “What do you want?” You snapped.

“I, uh, I just-, I’m sorry, really, I didn’t mean to take it so far. I didn’t know you felt sick, If I did I-“ 

“You would have done the exact same thing, we both know that.” You interrupted, not really interested in hearing any of her excuses.

“What? No! No, really-“

“Are you sure? You’re saying that if I came up to you and said I’m not feeling well, you wouldn’t have told me that I’m just slacking off?” You asked, though you already knew what the answer would be. 

Nothing, no response. Just as you thought.

“Thought so. I really don’t understand what your problem is. I would understand if you just had some doubts about me, everyone does, I’m used to it. But you have absolutely no reason to hate me and I’m really fucking tired of it. I do everything that I can and yet you always have something to complain about. I’ve had enough of this, I don’t want to do this anymore. I fucking heard you yesterday. I know you think I don’t belong here, I know you think I’m not good enough, but fuck you didn’t even give me an actual chance and I’m sick of it. I don’t fucking deserve this.” You didn’t even realize that tears were streaming down your face or that with each sentence you voice kept getting louder and louder until you were practically screaming in her face but you didn’t care. It felt nice to let it out, all of the frustration you have felt for the past couple of weeks. She kept taking her frustration out on you, now it was you turn. 

She was about to say something but you had no interest in hearing what she was about to say. Whatever she was about to tell you would never warrant her behavior towards you. 

“No, I’m not doing this right now, I’m leaving.“ You stood up abruptly and felt yourself get dizzy again, Alexia reached out her arms to steady you but you quickly steadied yourself and walked past her to the physio. 

“Get it out.” You said while giving him your arm, where an IV was administered, but the physio didn’t move and just looked hesitantly at you.

“Get it out or I’m going to rip it out of my arm myself, I don’t care, your way or my way, you choose.” You barked out. You knew you were being unfair, and unnecessarily mean, the man didn’t do anything to you. But you were so angry with the whole world right now that you couldn’t care less about who was on the receiving end of your outburst. You needed to get it out and most importantly you needed to leave, if being harsh meant you could get out of there sooner then you had no problem being a bitch. For once you just didn’t care. 

The man grabbed your arm and carefully pulled out the IV from your vein, while staring at you very disapprovingly but you didn’t give him a chance to say something, quickly turning around and gathering your things.

“You should have someone drive you, it’s not safe for you to drive yet.” Spoke out the man, despite knowing you were probably not going to listen to him. 

“I’ll be fine.” You dismissed. 

“I can dri-“ Tried saying Alexia but you didn’t even let her finish the sentence, too worked up to let her finish.

“No, there’s no way in hell I’m getting into a car with you Alexia. I would rather crash my car into a building.” 

“Then I’ll drive you.” Offered Ingrid but before you could refuse, she started talking again. 

“Really, please, let me give you a ride, I’ll have María pick me up. I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you to drive.” She pleaded and you were too tired to argue with her. “Okay, fine, whatever.” And with that you walked out of the room, with Ingrid closely behind you. Not sparing Alexia a single look.

The ride home didn’t take too long, despite having to give Ingrid instruction, given that you lived pretty close anyway. A fact, which you were grateful for because you physically couldn’t wait for the moment you lied down on your bed. This also meant that it didn’t take Mapi too long to pick up Ingrid, not that you weren’t enjoying her company, but right now you were much too eager to finally get some rest, so when you saw her pull up in your driveway you quickly hugged Ingrid goodbye and shut your front door, leaving both women standing outside confused.

You didn’t do anything else for the rest of the day, still not feeling too well, but also so mentally drained that all you could do was just bury yourself under blankets and order you favorite take out after taking a much needed shower, finally somewhat content after the horrendous day you just had. And as you were slowly falling asleep you couldn’t help but wonder if the rest of your stay in Barcelona would be like this. Hopeless and miserable, filled with unpleasant trainings and you questioning why you even came here in the first place. 

__________________________________________

When you woke up the following day you could feel dread completely consuming your whole body. You were terrified of going to training today, but there was no way you could skip training when you were scheduled to be starting in the match tomorrow. Physically you felt okay, you were rested and the dizziness and headache from yesterday were gone. But mentally you were everything but okay. You didn't know what to expect but each second you were becoming more of a nervous wreck. You didn’t know what today would be like and that was what freaked you out the most.

Walking in wasn't any better, everyone was nice but you haven't had to chance to see the one person you dreaded seeing the most, but it appears as though luck was on your side today because you ended up not seeing Alexia all the way to the locker room. Strangely enough the only two people that were there were Ingrid and Mapi. You greeted them quietly and started changing, not saying anything else but as you sat down on the bench to tie your shoelaces you noticed just how hard your hands were shaking. You let out a frustrated huff when even on your third try you still couldn't manage to tie your laces. It was irrational, the way tears started to cloud your vision but you were overwhelmed with every negative emotion that there is and all of a sudden even a simple thing like inability to tie your shoes has immediately put you on the edge. 

Just as you were about to try again someone appeared in front of you, but you refused to raise your head and let whoever it was see just how much of a mess you were. 

"Need a hand?" Ingrid asked gently. At this point you should've expected it would be her. So far, she's been the only one to offer you any support. But through your life you've only ever been met with a cold shoulder, so anyone being there for you just wasn't something you were used to. You don't think this is something you will ever get used to. 

"No thanks, I got it." You actually didn't, but it was easier to struggle alone, it's all you've ever known. No one ever taught you how to accept help, constantly reminding you to not rely on anyone.

"Let me help, please." She asked again. And as much as you wanted to refuse, you didn't have it in you. So, you just pulled away and let her tie your shoes, like a little kid but you were way past the point of caring. You still kept your head down, not wanting her to see you crying. 

"There you go, hey, hey, what's going on?" 

"No, no it's nothing don't worry, i'm fine." You said frantically trying to dry your tears, though unsuccessfully.

"Look, you don't have to tell me, but you don't need to lie to me, I can see you're not fine." With how gentle she was being it was basically impossible for you not to tell her. You couldn't remember the last time someone spoke to you like this, maybe, when you were a kid and your mom was comforting you after you fell from your bike, but even that memory didn’t  feel as warm as this. So, you decided to open up to her, just a little, even if everything in you told you not to. 

"I'm just freaking out a little. These past few training sessions have been hell and I just, I guess I'm just nervous. I really don't want to mess up again." You admitted, already regretting saying anything at all but Ingrid just gave you a soft smile, lightly squeezing your leg, offering you a bit of comfort.

"Hey, no don't say that, you haven't messed up anything."

"That's not what Alexia thinks." You murmured. "It doesn't matter what she thinks." She argued.

"But it does, she's the captain." You argued weakly, because it did, it would always matter what she thought. And if she thought you were not worth being here, then everything was doomed.

"Look, she will come around I promise. And especially after yesterday I don't think she's going to be so harsh anymore." She kept trying to convince you and you weren't sure if it was because she was actually speaking the truth or because she was just trying to calm you down. "I'm having a really hard time believing you, to be honest."

"I get it but I promise, it's going to be okay, really."

"Thank you. Again. You've really been saving my ass these past few days." Both of you let out a small laugh at that. 

"You don't have anything to thank me for, really. I'm just being a decent human being." 

"Trust me, that's more than I usually get. So, I appreciate it, and you." She gave you a sad smile at that. You didn't mean to sound so depressing, but that's how it was. You really didn't feel like sugarcoating the truth just for the sake of not sounding like a complete loser. 

You didn't say anything afterwards and neither did Ingrid, she just offered you a hand and helped you stand up. She kept her hold on your hand and slowly pulled you in for a hug. You froze momentarily, not really expecting it, but quickly relaxed and hugged her back. 

"I know you've had it tough and I'm really sorry about it, but I'm here for you, for anything you need. I know what it feels like when you think you're all alone, but I promise you're not, at least not anymore." Tears clouded your vision again but for an entirely different reason now. God you really were a wreck today. You didn't trust yourself to speak so you just squeezed her harder, hoping that she understands your gratitude. 

__________________________________________

You wouldn't say you were necessarily calm after your conversation with Ingrid, but at least you were not on the verge of a complete breakdown anymore, so that's a win. That changed the second you saw Alexia approach you. From experience you knew not to expect anything good from her, so her next words left you completely speechless. 

"Are you feeling okay?" She asked simply, her face not giving you any indication of what she was thinking. Out of all the things she could've said to you, you really didn't expect her to care about how you were feeling. So, you just stared at her, not knowing what to say. She raised her eyebrows though, silently telling you that she was expecting an answer.

"Uhm, I-, yeah, I'm fine." You stuttered, internally cursing yourself for sounding like a complete idiot. She didn't didn't say anything else, just giving you a faint nod that was barely noticeable before turning around and leaving.

The beginning of the training was all formalities, and you were pretty much spaced out until you all started running laps, not really paying attention to anything else, but just as you were about go run the extra laps that Alexia always orders you to, you could hear her shouting. 

"What are you doing?" She asked sternly and you braced yourself for another scolding. You didn't know what you've done wrong, again, but you were definitely not about to argue with her.

"Uhh, I'm about to run the extra lap? Like always?" You said, rather hesitantly, not really knowing what to expect next. 

"No, it's okay, you don't have to, go stretch." She replied and you gave her a simple nod, absolutely flabbergasted.

Since you came here, she always ordered you to run extra laps, to repeat the drills, her telling you not to felt way too weird. For a second you wondered if it was a joke, or if she just went crazy, because this was not the Alexia you knew. But she kept on surprising you today, because each time you were about to do something she kept on stopping you, reminding you to take it easy and repeatedly asking you if you felt okay. 

You were confused at first, not understanding what her point was at all. But that confusion quickly started turning into anger, why did she decide to be nice to you now? She could've been nice to you this whole time and she would've saved both of you a lot of trouble. Why did it take you passing out for her to come to her senses and actually start treating you like a human? So, the next time you heard her tell you to slow down you really had to bite your tongue because you got dangerously close to telling her to fuck off. You were positively furious, your blood was boiling and you kept having to remind yourself to stay calm. 

Breaking point came when she handed you a bottle of water that you could’ve easily gotten yourself, a simple innocent gesture. Under any other circumstances you would’ve just said thank you, but in this very moment that was the last thing you wanted to say. You hated it, how all this time you wanted her to treat you like a human and that’s what she was doing, yet it was only driving you crazy, and against your better judgement you ended up snapping at her.

“Okay I really don’t understand what you’re trying to achieve today, but it is driving me insane. You mind explaining to me what the fuck you’re doing?” You snapped with a frown on your face and you could see the colour draining from her face as she looked as you as though she has seen a ghost.

“I-, uhm, I just wanted to make sure you were okay, you know, after yesterday and you know…” she trailed off, awfully shy for someone who was yelling in your face less than 24 hours ago. 

“Well, I’m fantastic of course! How do you think I’m doing? I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be around you and I certainly don’t want you making sure I’m fine! It’s too late for it now, I don’t care if you feel guilty it’s your own fault Alexia! You don’t get to treat me like a piece of shit and then act all nice hoping that will make up for it.”

Maybe if you weren’t so angry you would’ve felt a bit sorry for her because she truly looked like a kicked puppy after that little outburst. But she didn’t say anything and with a scoff you turned around and left. You didn’t even bother changing, just slumping your bag over your shoulder and escaping to your car as fast as you could. You were lucky you left a bit early and the parking lot was still empty, otherwise everyone would’ve seen and heard the yell you let out once you got into the car. 

That woman really is going to be the death of you. 

__________________________________________

So, the match really didn’t end up that well for you. You ended up winning 3-1 so it wasn’t that much of a disaster for the team, but your performance today was less than good. You were all over the place, but never where you were needed, completely missing passes and none of your shots came even close to a goal. It was painful to watch and you really weren’t surprised when you came off in the 63rd minute. You couldn’t stick around and keep watching it, too angry with yourself so you immediately went inside to take a shower, hoping that a nice cold shower might calm down not just your body but also your mind. 

Once you got out of the shower you could tell that the game was over since some of the players were already inside while some stayed out on the pitch. You hoped to have a bit more time to pull yourself together before everyone would come pouring in. The shower did absolutely nothing to help you and once you started crying there was no way you would be able to stop. Maybe Alexia was right, maybe everything really was just handed over to you and maybe you really weren’t that good. 

You tried to avoid everyone’s stares while you took your bag and excused yourself, leaving the locker room and hoping to find some quiet place to cry it all out. You tried several doors, most of them locked but you managed to stumble open a door that was unlocked and once you opened it you could see it was just a small conference room, abandoned a long time ago given how empty it was. So, you threw your bag and the floor and made a beeline for the corner, slumping down and burying your head in your knees, trying to make yourself as small as possible. The first sob you let out was rough, so rough it actually hurt, but it felt way so good to finally let it out. You cried so hard that you could feel your whole body shake, and each second it was becoming harder and harder to breath.

You completely forgot to keep a track of time, knowing that you were due to leave soon, but in that moment that was the least of your worries. All of a sudden, you could hear someone open the door but you refused to raise your head, much too comfortable in your little bubble, so you couldn’t tell who it was.

Please be Ingrid, please let it be Ingrid.

“Hey..” 

Oh God, no.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Alexia tried again after she got no response from you. 

“Go away.” You pleaded but instead of turning around she just got closer and on instinct you tried to push yourself closer to the wall to create more space between you. “No please, please go away, please I don’t want you here.” 

She didn’t go away, instead she slowly lowered herself onto the ground until she was sitting in front of you, not too far but not too close, which you appreciated. If she were to disturb your personal space in your current state you would probably just freak out even more. 

“Please, tell me what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” She asked softly, you’ve never heard her speak like that, let alone to you, but you didn’t let that break you. “No, please, just let me be.” You cried, even harder, wanting her to get away from you as soon as possible.

“I will, once you tell me what’s wrong.” She didn’t get a response from you, all that could be heard in the quiet room was your ragged breathing.

“Is this about the game? Is that why you’re so worked up?” She kept her voice gentle, and it made it hard to keep ignoring her, but you weren’t quite ready to talk to her yet. So, all that she got in response was just a whine, one that resembled an agreement. 

“Look I get it, no one likes bad days, but they’re a part of what we do, we can’t have a perfect performance all the time, as much as we want to. It is not the end of the world, I promise.” She tried to comfort you, not realizing she was doing the exact opposite.

“It is when everyone around you thinks that you don’t deserve to be a part of the team and you constantly have something to prove, then it pretty much is the end of the world.” Your voice was rough and you looked like a mess but you still raised your head as you spoke, wanting her to understand that the biggest reason why you were crying was her own doing. You didn’t necessarily feel secure at Barça before, but it definitely wasn’t as bad as it is now, and it was mostly Alexia’s fault. 

She frowned, thinking about what to say next. 

“Look, I’m sorry, I really am. I was an arrogant asshole and I took it too far, but none of what I said is true. I did think it was but I don’t anymore and I don’t want you thinking it’s true. It is not, you deserve to be here, okay?” 

“But that’s not what you thought 3 days ago.” You murmured, Alexia barely hearing you.

“No, it’s not. But a person that gets everything handed to them doesn’t train until they actually pass out, you know.” Again, no response from you, but she refused to give up. At least now your sobbing subsided to just small hiccups.

“I know I messed up, and I will forever feel sorry about it, but I don’t want you to doubt whether you deserve to be here or not. You do, you work hard and I didn’t see it then, but I see it now, okay?” Alexia said firmly, and it was hard not to believe her, with how gently but convincingly she was speaking. “Okay.” 

She gave you a soft nod and slowly stood up, offering you a hand and even though you felt like you shouldn’t, you accepted her help. She carefully helped you stand up, holding you up when you wobbled a little from your legs falling asleep. 

“Come on, they’re all probably waiting for us.” She gave your hand a light squeeze and let go and you followed her out of the room.

All of a sudden you didn’t feel like the world was ending, everything that was going on now seemed almost manageable and you walked out of that room with a small, barely noticeable smile on your face.

__________________________________________

Yaaay I finally finished the second part🥳 Sorry for the delay I wanted to get this out over 2 weeks ago, but I hope you liked it anyway :)

@marvelwomen-simp

[hazbin-writings-and-musings]

Lucifer Morningstar x Pregnant!Reader Headcanons

As much as dear Lucy and reader enjoyed themselves in this headcanon post, I can't help but imagine such activities might lead to Charlie become a big sister, so I put some headcanons together for such a situation. I know that Sinners can't get pregnant as canon currently stands, so I typically employ either the Rules of Fanfic or I imagine reader is a living human that ended up in Hell through magic shenanigans (will elaborate with a prompt post once I've got the spoons), though of course you're free to imagine them as Hellborn or whatever suits your fancy!

Warnings: Pregnancy Mention, Implied Smut

- He's insistent you see the Royal Physician as soon as you start experiencing symptoms, but he's not at all prepared for the diagnosis you bring back, and he might need you to repeat it a few dozen times. You're pregnant? With a baby? And it's his? He put a baby in you? You're going to have his baby? An actual baby? He's going to be a dad again?! So goes the conversation for a good ten or so minutes, and suffice to say he's far from calm once the news finally does sink in. Given that the two of you had assumed that an angel and a mortal couldn't reproduce, this is more than an unexpected surprise, and Lucifer knows all too well how much of a fuss this will create from Hell's lowest ring all the way up to Heaven. That's to say nothing of how Charlie might take the news...

- Once the initial panic fades, after a solid hour or so, he gathers himself and focuses on setting a course of action. A very important decision needs to be made. He says it's up to you, but upon being asked what he'd like to do, the King of Hell surprises himself and answers without hesitation that he'd love to have this baby with you. He's surprised because he knows better than anyone that it will be challenging, but he can't deny how much he wants it regardless. Having Charlie was the greatest thing he'd ever done, and the thought of another little bundle makes his heart swell in ways he can barely describe, but ultimately he'll support whatever decision you make. Carrying a half-Archangel is no easy feat... Hearing that you want the same and intend to carry through is enough to make him lift you clear off the ground in a spinning airborne embrace, wings fluttering like a hummingbird as he breaks out into a celebratory musical number or two. He can't wait to be a dad all over again!

- If you thought he pampered you before, you were wrong. He doubles the amount of servants at your call, ensures there's always a physician available at a moment's notice, and hires a full team of chefs to cook whatever you might crave at any hour of the day. From beginning to end, he doesn't want you to want for anything, and the man knows a thing or two about spoiling, and he goes all out to ensure you're surrounded by comfort at all times. That's to say nothing of his own personal dedication to more or less worshiping your existence. Even the tiniest indication of pain or discomfort has him leaping to your assistance. Backrub? Footrub? Full body massage? You name it, he's quite happy to provide. If it wasn't such a cliche he'd be rather happy to feed you grapes from a golden platter. His efforts are borne from the deep sense of pride he feels every time he looks at you and thinks of how incredible it is that he's with you, that you're carrying his child, and that the two of you are bringing something quite wonderful and unique into existence. Said pride fully extends to the public view, where he doesn't hesitate to show you off and humbly brag to anyone that will listen about the news.

- You'll also find that as protective as he was before, he doesn't even hesitate to get his fangs out now, not that many in Hell are stupid enough to mess with the King's beloved. He expects you to be treated with the highest levels of respect, and if he can't accompany you somewhere, he'll insist on an armed escort to keep you safe. This fear isn't completely unfounded, as there are some willing to risk everything for an upper hand on Lucifer, but he's got ample experience keeping the opportunists at bay. He did the same when Lilith was expecting Charlie.

- Speaking of Charlie, the only thing that gives him any kind of hesitation is his fear that she might take the news poorly. Though she took your relationship well, what if she isn't thrilled about a younger sibling? With their relationship so recently repaired, he fears she might worry about being replaced or pushed aside, and he doesn't know how to reassure her that nothing will ever make him love her less. Thankfully, with her boundless kindness and eternally upbeat personality, the Princess of Hell puts his worries to rest as soon as she gets the news. In fact, she reacts much the same way her father did; a massive hug and a delighted musical number, albeit with far more happy sobbing. She promises through tears that she'll be the best big sister Hell has ever seen, and that she simply can't wait.

[ace-and-the-rpg-horrors]

it is so important to me that within the very last scene Monty appears, he is spoken to with kindness. and by Charles, of all people.

because the only person that Monty seems to have regularly known is Esther, and she treats him with anything but kindness. it's very safe to assume that Monty has presumably spent the vast majority of his life being berated, attacked and neglected by her. there has never been a moment that showed Monty receiving any sort of gentleness or tenderness from her. when Esther does compliment him, it's only to do with how good-looking she made him as a human. and that's her own handiwork. Monty himself is never praised, never acknowledged, never seen for any of his own efforts to assist her. yet, she was quick to both see and act the second he messed up, and not even through fault of his own.

it's so incredibly touching that Monty is finally praised for his own actions when we part ways with him. and by the very person he dislikes so much. Monty bitterly resents Charles. he's not shy about it. Charles is not unaware of it. he isn't all that fond of Monty himself. and yet, Charles is the one to end things on a positive note. it should be ironic, but it isn't at all. it makes complete sense.

of course it's Charles that Monty shares this final moment of his with. Charles is not an idiot, so i'm certain he could somewhat tell that Monty is a victim of abuse. the victim of an abusive parent-like figure, no less. just like him. Charles is rightly furious at what Monty has done, but how could he truly hate him? when he knows full well what it's like to be so scared of the person who's meant to look after you? when he knows full well that horrible feeling of being trapped without any escape in sight? Charles has also experienced being treat in a disgusting, violent manner for no reason at all. he may not have been serving an impossible-to-please witch like Monty is, but no matter how athletic, hard-working or friendly he was, Charles could never escape his father's terrifying anger, all efforts of his rendered futile.

it's interesting that Charles doesn't seem all that shocked in this moment, to see Monty act against Esther. he's glad, but i don't reckon his expression is one of surprise? it's almost as if Charles already had some sort of faith in Monty, even though the crow has given him absolutely no reason to trust him, quite the opposite. but maybe that's not so strange. Monty is like Charles. Charles is the person who outright said that he's desperate for people like him to be right, to be good. we saw how devastated he was when Brad and Hunter were not.

so, these words from Charles must have mattered to Monty greatly. people who are abused, especially by those who are meant to look after them, such as their parents, can often be led to believe that their abuser's actions are somehow "justified," even if it's not a thought they're fully conscious of. Monty isn't entirely naïve, at least outwardly. he clearly isn't under the impression that Esther actually cares for him, considering how bitterly he speaks to her. but deep down, there must be a reason he still stays with Esther, because he isn't restrained physically. Monty's cage is unlocked, he's "free" to fly around as he pleases, even shown to go outside at one point. he doesn't fly away from her, though. and that may be because he unconsciously feels that he owes Esther his complete loyalty.

but this moment could have changed that. if Charles, who Monty doesn't like and isn't liked by in return, who Monty was impolite and passive-aggressive to can speak to him kindly - what right does Esther, who Monty tries to be helpful to, have to treat him with such cruelty? what right does she have to scream at him, to grab him, to mutilate him? when he's done nothing but be her loyal familiar, having only committed the sin of feeling too much for her liking, human feelings that she forced upon him?

this scene is towards the end of the show for us. but for Monty, maybe it's a turning point in his life.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Character Development: 70 Questions

Self-Reflective Questions. To help jumpstart self-reflection (Woronko, n.d.):

Am I using my time wisely?

Am I taking anything for granted?

Am I employing a healthy perspective?

Am I living true to myself?

Am I waking up in the morning ready to take on the day?

Am I thinking negative thoughts before I fall asleep?

Am I putting enough effort into my relationships?

Am I taking care of myself physically?

Am I letting matters that are out of my control stress me out?

Am I achieving the goals that I’ve set for myself?

The following are questions you can ask yourself every day to get to know yourself better (William, n.d.):

Who am I, really?

What worries me most about the future?

If this were the last day of my life, would I have the same plans for today?

What am I really scared of?

Am I holding on to something I need to let go of?

If not now, then when?

What matters most in my life?

What am I doing about the things that matter most in my life?

Why do I matter?

Have I done anything lately that’s worth remembering?

Have I made someone smile today?

What have I given up on?

When did I last push the boundaries of my comfort zone?

If I had to instill one piece of advice in a newborn baby, what advice would I give?

What small act of kindness was I once shown that I will never forget?

How will I live, knowing I will die?

What do I need to change about myself?

Is it more important to love or be loved?

How many of my friends would I trust with my life?

Who has had the greatest impact on my life?

Would I break the law to save a loved one?

Would I steal to feed a starving child?

What do I want most in life?

What is life asking of me?

Which is worse: failing or never trying?

If I try to fail and succeed, what have I done?

What’s the one thing I’d like others to remember about me at the end of my life?

Does it really matter what others think about me?

To what degree have I actually controlled the course of my life?

When all is said and done, what will I have said more than I’ve done?

These prompts and questions are great ways to put your journal to use (Tartakovsky, 2014):

My favorite way to spend the day is . . .

If I could talk to my teenage self, the one thing I would say is . . .

The two moments I’ll never forget in my life are . . . (Describe them in great detail, and what makes them so unforgettable.)

Make a list of 30 things that make you smile.

“Write about a moment experienced through your body. Making love, making breakfast, going to a party, having a fight, an experience you’ve had or you imagine for your character. Leave out thought and emotion, and let all information be conveyed through the body and senses.”

The words I’d like to live by are . . .

I couldn’t imagine living without . . .

When I’m in pain—physical or emotional—the kindest thing I can do for myself is . . .

Make a list of the people in your life who genuinely support you, and whom you can genuinely trust. Then, make time to hang out with them.

What does unconditional love look like for you?

What things would you do if you loved yourself unconditionally? How can you act on these things, even if you’re not yet able to love yourself unconditionally?

I really wish others knew this about me . . .

Name what is enough for you.

If my body could talk, it would say . . .

Name a compassionate way you’ve supported a friend recently. Then, write down how you can do the same for yourself.

What do you love about life?

What always brings tears to your eyes? (As Paulo Coelho has said, “Tears are words that need to be written.”)

Write about a time when your work felt real, necessary and satisfying to you, whether the work was paid or unpaid, professional or domestic, physical or mental.

Write about your first love—whether it’s a person, place or thing.

Using 10 words, describe yourself.

What’s surprised you the most about your life or life in general?

What can you learn from your biggest mistakes?

I feel most energized when . . .

“Write a list of questions to which you urgently need answers.”

Make a list of everything that inspires you—whether books, websites, quotes, people, paintings, stores, or stars in the sky.

What’s one topic you need to learn more about to help you live a more fulfilling life? (Then, follow through and learn more about that topic.)

I feel happiest in my skin when . . .

Make a list of everything you’d like to say no to.

Make a list of everything you’d like to say yes to.

Write the words you need to hear.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[eddiemunsonistheloml]

Dean Winchester nsfw alphabet

Masterlist

Taglist

☆ Paring(s): Dean Winchester x reader

☆ Words: 1,452

☆ Warnings: Lost of me mentions of sex (obviously) but no actual smut, 18+, established relationship, mentions of oral, sex toys, edging, cum, masturbation (dean), swearing, pls lmk if i need to add anything else

☆ Summary: nsfw alphabet. idk what else to say.

A - After Care (what they’re like after sex and how they take care of you)

Dean would be the BEST at aftercare. As soon as your done, he would just sit inside you for a few minutes while whispering praises to you, telling you how good you did before gently pulling out. He would always give you the option of having a shower now or later. If you chose to shower right after, he would carry you to the shower and clean your body for you. He also loved to wash your hair for you while giving you a head massage. If you chose to shower later, he would get a damp towel and wipe you both up before helping you get dressed in his shirt and then, he would hold you tightly as you cuddled under the covers together before you both doze off.

B - Body Part (Their favourite body part of theirs and yours)

His favourite of himself is probably his jawline or his muscles. Idk why it just makes sense to me. He would be so cocky about how strong he is, specially how easy it was for him to carry you around and man handle you.

Honestly as cheesy as it sounds, Dean loves your entire body so incredibly much that it’s hard for him to just pick one favourite body part. He thinks you’re the most beautiful person that he has ever seen in his entire life. But if he had to choose, it would probably be your tits and he wouldn’t even care how big or small they are. (He has stated multiple times that boob pillows are the best kind of pillows.)

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum)

If he doesn’t cum inside you he’ll probably cum on your tits/stomach or if you’re facing down, it’ll be on your back/ass. He has always loved to watch his cum leak out of you after he finishes inside you..

D - Dirty Secret (self explanatory)

It’s no lie that dean loves to take pictures of you but you don’t quite realize how many dirty pictures of you he has. He definitely keeps a dirty Polaroid picture of you- probably from when you guys were having sex, in his wallet so he can always see you.

E - Experience (How experienced are they in bed?)

We all know Dean is very experienced and it shows. He knows your body better than you do at this point. He knows every little thing about your body, what feels good, what doesn’t, how to make you scream, etc.

F - Favourite Position (self explanatory)

He’s a classic and loves missionary or pretty much any position where he gets to watch your pretty face as he turns you into a big mess. He also loves doggy style and fucking you in the impala (after putting his leather jacket down because baby deserves better than that).

G - Goofy (how serious are they during sex?)

Dean is usually pretty serious during sex but he also likes joking around with you. Sometimes when he’s not as serious, you would both be giggling and laughing together as he fucks into you.

H - Hair (how well groomed are they? What do they think about their partner having hair or not?)

I don’t think Dean would really bother with shaving. He would definitely keep himself pretty trimmed for the most part though.

He would not give a single flying fuck if you shaved or not. You could wax or never shave or anything and it wouldn’t make a difference. All that matters to him is if you’re comfortable or not.

For example:

“Can I take these pretty little panties off, sweetheart?” “I haven’t shaved..” “I don’t give a fuck and that’s not what I asked.”

I - Intimacy (how romantic they during sex)

He’s usually pretty intimate but it takes a while for him to be. He’s used to casual hook ups and one night stands so he never really opened up to anyone that way before.

J - Jack-off (do they masturbate? How often)

This man is such a slut and he masturbates a lot. Sometimes he wishes you would walk in on him and help him out. Whenever you’re apart for whatever reason like if he’s on a hunt without you, 9 times out of 10 he’s jerking off because he misses you.

K - Kinks (some of their kinks)

He 100% has a size kink. He loves how much his cock would stretch you open, more than anything else in the world. Dean also probably has a small daddy or sir kink but it’s not too intense.

Love love LOVES when you tell him he’s doing good. He loves knowing he’s making you feel good and loves your accidental praises while you fall apart. (He loves praising you as well).

L - Location (where they prefer to have sex)

Dean will honestly fuck you anywhere he can. The most common spots you have sex are in bed or in baby (like I said before).

M - Motivation (what turns them on?)

Pretends to hate it but he secretly loves when you’re being bratty, loves putting you back in your place.

N - No (what won’t they do? Turn offs)

Dean is pretty open to anything but he would never want to hurt you too bad, he’s down for a little spanking or even sometimes choking but he will never get too rough in that way. If you don’t want to do something then he doesn’t either.

O - Oral (do they prefer giving or receiving?)

He loves making you feel good but he also goes down on you for himself too. He’s so obsessed with the way you taste, and the noises you make when he eats you out. He also loves when you give him blow jobs but defiantly prefers giving.

P - Pace (how fast&rough or slow&soft they are)

Dean can be very rough but also very soft. He usual likes to fuck you rough and hard into the mattress but he also really likes gentle, soft sex. Especially when it’s early in the morning, you’re both still half asleep but also needy he can be really soft and sweet.

No matter if he’s being rough or soft he makes sure you’re okay constantly.

Q - Quickies (what is their opinion on quickies? Do they do them often?)

Dean is always so horny so quickies are a regular thing for you guys. He obviously loves taking his time with you but when you don’t have much time we is always down for a quickie.

R - Risk (how much do they experiment? Do they take risks?)

He is such a kinky person and would be down to try almost anything with you at least once.

S - Stamina (how many rounds can they last?)

He will usually go for 1-2 rounds but he can last up to 4.

T - Toys (do they own toys? How do they use them?)

Dean would hardly ever user toys on you unless you specifically asked him to. He’s selfish and wants to be the only one who can make you feel good.

U - Unfair (how much do they tease?)

I swear to fucking god this man is the biggest tease EVER. He would tease you forever if he could because he loves making you whine and beg for him.

V - Volume (how loud they during sex)

Dean never shuts the fuck up during sex so in that way he’s very loud. As far as moaning goes, he is usually not very loud but he will groan quietly.

W - Wild Card (random headcanon)

Dean loves to edge you, he could go for hours and never get bored. You could be crying and begging for him to let you cum but that cocky little bastard will keep going for a while before be finally lets you cum.

X - X-ray (what are they packing under their clothes?)

He’s a solid 8 inches and is also thick as fuck which he constantly brags to you about.

Y - Yearning (how high their sex drive is)

Hornist man you will ever meet. He is always down for sex.

Z - Zzz (how fast they fall asleep after)

It would usually take Dean a while to fall asleep after sex, unless you really tired each other out. He always makes sure you fall asleep first (even when you don’t have sex), so he can make sure you’re okay and safe. He likes to watch you sleep for a while before actually sleeping himself because he claims that you always look so peaceful.

reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated <3

[remiivu]

Ghostly Companion- Chapter 1

Link on Ao3! Currently rated Teen but may go up to Mature/Explicit

Masterlist Next Chapter -->

A Mr. Crawling x Reader fic (that may expand into a series!)

This is the first time that I've written anything like this in the past 5 years, so give me some slack if it's bad or cringey lol (also the first fic on Tumblr!)

Set in the ending (and series of events) where you take him home! I've done a few playthroughs so some parts may not be fully accurate, but I'll do my best!

No warnings-- just some minor cursing here and there. 1.8k words!

Enjoy!

 Note: Words in italics are in the ghost language. The blocks represent words reader doesn't understand.

You…

Honestly, you weren’t quite sure what happened these past 24 hours. Half of your now fully-conscious brain had settled on this being some sort of twisted hallucination you experienced after inhaling the noxious spores from some weird mushroom during your bravery challenge. But, the other, half-insane half-sane side of your mind simply cannot deny the manifestation of your nightmares sitting right across from you, a sharp smile stretching from ear to ear and a mop of strangely neat black hair swallowing its figure.

It? He? That, too, was something you didn’t know. Hell, the thing never stood up, and the noises that creaked from its throat were far from human.

But… It was nice. It helped you. It followed you, shielded you, and the pure, radiant happiness it exuded when you proposed, in broken ghostly-language, for it to join you hardly came across as malicious or non-sentient. It had feelings, and while some parts were… wrong, surely, it was owed some sort of humanity, you reasoned.

And so, it became a he, and then a Mr. Crawling-- the highlight of your creativity, truly. You doubted he understood the significance of the slightly different noises coming out of your mouth as you called to him, but still, it was the least you could do.

“... not… go?” He asked, head tilted as he sat patiently on the ground, lanky grayed limbs bent awkwardly into some mix between a w-shape and a regular sitting position. You think he said something else as well, but honestly, you were exhausted, and you hadn’t really had much time to truly learn his language.

“...” You sighed again, looking at him, then your surroundings. You had popped out right where you had started– or somewhere near it, at least, as you recognized the spooky decorations nailed and wrapped around trees. You were back in the forest you had entered before being sucked into… something. At least the light rain had stopped, leaving damp soil and the smell of petrichor to fill your senses instead of the… yeah.

Well, besides, you had nothing on you. Right– it was all in your bag that, for some reason, wasn’t brought alongside the rest of you.

“Need…” you paused, hesitating. How did you say bag? Scrounging through all the corners of your mind left you with a blank, and you searched for the next best thing.

Which would be bucket. Fuck.

Mr. Crawling tilted his head the other way, mouth flattening slightly in what you presume to be confusion. “You… ∎∎∎” he uttered something that didn’t spark a single click of recognition in your brain. “∎∎∎… ∎∎∎. ∎∎∎∎∎∎. Help?” 

You gave one nod. “Yeah, help. Uhm… bucket… “ You made the attempt of drawing out what it looked like in the dirt while ignoring the small amount of embarrassment that rose in your chest at your horrific attempt to communicate.

You jabbed at the middle of the drawing of your rather simple bag. “Uh- blood.” You muttered, figuring it was the closest thing to whatever the actual word for red was.

Mr. Crawling frowned a bit, then chirped a “Me help you ∎∎∎ bucket! ∎∎∎ ∎∎∎∎?” With a much more pleasant smile. 

You nodded, “Yeah, thanks. Ok, so… I guess we’ll split up?”

Mr. Crawling stared blankly with that dopey smile and you sighed, standing up. You felt a little bad for making a… disabled ghost? Yeah, a disabled ghost do some of the work. Shoeless and possibly pant-less

Damn. You’ve stooped down low these past few hours.

_____________________________

Honestly, you were surprised at just how efficient a disabled ghost was when left in the dark, blind, and in an environment he’s never been in before. Just as you were about to give up and start heading back into civilization, you heard a gleeful, familiar bone-chilling giggle followed by “Me ∎∎∎ bucket blood!”

Your head shoots up, “You did?!” As you rushed off to the bushes where he had wandered off. 

You let out a sigh of relief as you spotted the familiar bag, grabbing it from Mr. Crawling’s hands. “Thank you,” you smiled, weary but grateful, as Mr. Crawling giggled once again.

“Happy! Happy!” He said, reaching out to pat your head again.

You found yourself letting out a small laugh as well at the unusually tender action, giving your bag a quick once-over to confirm everything was there. When you spotted your phone, you quickly tapped on the screen, letting out a quick breath of relief as it lights up only for it to immediately be followed by a small wince.

Over 50 missed calls and 100 messages… yikes. And with a glance at the time and date, you understood why. Turns out, your sense of time was rather accurate– it had been just over a day since your disappeared.

“Hurt? You hurt?” Mr. Crawling asked, leaning in close to do his ghost-equivalent of looking. Honestly, you can’t be bothered to question why, how, or even what he’s seeing when all you’ve noticed on his face was a deep red wound in place of his eyes. 

“No,” You shake your head. “Uhm. It’s, uhm, humans. Humans worry… no– me worry humans.” You explained the best you could, standing up again. Mr. Crawling looks up, confused. 

“You safe.” He says, crawling towards you rather slowly. “Humans ∎∎∎?” 

You shake your head. “Go together with me.” You say with a bit of force. The desire to get home and in bed overshadows much of anything else that could run through your mind.

Mr. Crawling, however, doesn’t seem to mind your curtness, breaking out into another small fit of uncanny giggles as he follows after you, letting out a small mantra of “Together together together together!”

With half fondness and half exasperation, you trudge on with a smile, feeling like this experience was more akin to a person walking their dog rather than a human leading a ghost to their home. Which… you choose to think about another day. You really, really don’t want to contemplate any more images of your death.

You were so tired.

But, after nearly half an hour of much slower-than typical walking, your patience was wearing thin.

As it turns out, disabled ghosts walk– crawl much slower on slippery, uneven terrain than their familiar concrete floors. You’ve had to slow significantly so that Mr. Crawling wouldn’t get too tangled up in roots and rocks, and a part of you worried for the safety of his bare legs, but every passing glance resulted in a tiny glimpse of smooth, unharmed skin. You assume he was taking extra care to ensure he doesn’t get hurt.

But, still, every passing hour drains your phone’s limited battery and therefore your limited ability to navigate through whatever area of the city you wind up in upon exiting the mountains. You really couldn’t afford to keep slowing down or to risk losing your understanding of where to walk by circling around roots and trees. They had passed most of the decorations by now, leaving only trees and the very faint noise of any rare passing cars.

Eventually, you kneel back down, waving at him to get his attention. “Mr. Crawling.” You hum, watching as he perked up.

“∎∎∎!” He chirped, getting to your position in a few seconds.

“Me…” You hesitate. “... Me you… up.” You said, staring at him to see whether or not he understood. You were sure that, without… a lot of things necessary for life, he would be light enough for you to carry. Sure, you weren’t the fittest of the bunch, but you were healthy and exercised. In fact, you’re sure that your physical health was the only reason you lasted that long in that death trap.

His head tilted, then he grinned. “... Me you ∎∎∎?”

You sighed, contemplating. That was a vaguely familiar word, and you could almost hear something else in your memories having said it.

But before you could actually responded, Mr. Crawling lunged up at you, bringing you down to the ground in one swift motion. You let out a scream, your throat raw and strained by now, but settled in once you realized where you were.

“Mr. Crawling, what are you–?” You let out a half-scream of shock as he began to scoot across the floor with his legs, holding you firmly in his lap, cold yet sturdy arms caging you in.

He giggled, “Me ∎∎∎! Me ∎∎∎ you!”

Your jaw dropped, and then the word clicks– carry! Well, carry or lift or hold– something along those lines. You remembered that decapitated head speaking it. The head that you had left behind in the hands of that… goat thing.

“Me carry you!” Mr. Crawling giggled, and honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that this was twice as slow as their previous pace (an actual snail’s pace) you might’ve just stayed here and squeezed a nap in.

“Wait, no– no!” You wiggled, trying to loosen his arms. You couldn’t– not through sheer force, as his arms felt like stone bricks, but he loosened his hold on his own, leaning in far too close and spewing out a cycle of: “Hurt? Hurt? Damaged? You sad?” 

You sighed, shaking your head. Well, at least now you know the word. “No, me carry you. Me carry you.” You said, trying to convey through hand motions that it would be faster.

Then… Mr. Crawling giggled. Laughed. Directly at your face. “You carry me? Me ∎∎∎, you ∎∎∎!” 

In your heart, you knew you were being laughed at, and you felt heat rushing to your ears as you sputtered in indignation. “What– listen, I can carry you! You’re not even alive, so you probably don’t have water or blood or any other thing in you that makes you as heavy as��”

“Cute!” Mr. Crawling cooed with another giggle, playing with your ears, his fingers gentle despite how coarse they felt. The coolness of them actually felt… nice against your burning ears.

You balked, “You–!”

Your breath was interrupted as cement arms wrapped around you again and his butt-scooting continued. 

“Hey, I– !”

“You ∎∎∎ rest!” He said happily, strong legs picking up the pace and pushing small mounds of dirt across the forest floor.

Well… that was actually amendable. Maybe you’d get to the city before sunrise at this pace.

“Rest rest!” He said, one arm reaching up to pat your head. “You ∎∎∎! You rest! You safe.”

You let out another sigh, though you hardly put any heart into it, leaning against him more as you felt the rhythmic stop and push of him quite literally dragging the both of us to safety.

A disabled ghost… helping a fully-capable human move.

You snort, letting your eyes fall shut.

What has your life become?

And that's all! Thank you so much for stopping by! If you're interested, I just wanted to add some notes for anybody paying a bit more attention to minor details in this fic.

Yes, the reader is exhausted and far too tired to ask why a ghost who "can't use his legs" is currently using them as a motor to propel them across the forest floor. Give them some slack! They nearly died about 3 times lmao. (And I have mentally planned out a timeframe where they realize this exact piece of info)

I am aiming for the reader to be completely G/N (for our rare male players) but I may slip up and call them she/her or accidentally follow the canon a bit too closely.

Honestly, while it is based in Japan, most of my understanding outside of some rare visits comes from anime. So, in my head, the local high school was hosting a bravery challenge up in the forest on the mountains and the reader was dragged along with their friends (reader is a working young adult, ~25 years old). In my world, the city they live in is maybe 40 minutes away from that specific area in the mountains. I'm contemplating making the reader American-Japanese (who resides in the US and visited Japan for a vacation to meet up with old friends, or something like that).

Yes, I know that "bucket" in the ghost language isn't correct (the correct word is "container" or something more vague like that) but I can't recall if the reader gets to go to the SOS room on this route where Mr. Crawler refers to the pencil case/make-up bag with that same word, so their only experience would be learning the word through buckets with Mr. Hood.

I may accidentally call Mr. Crawling "Mr. Crawler." I'm pretty sure I haven't done that in this fic, but this is simply a warning for the future lmao.

That's all! Thanks again!^^

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[neonmoonster]

“Of course I didn’t want you!”

Anakin recoiled like he had been slapped.

The anger he had felt only moments before towards the man in front of him dissipated and reformed into the keenest hurt he had ever experienced.

He had known this, of course—had known it forever, and he had prepared himself for the day the truth finally came out, building walls around his heart and forcing distance between himself and Obi-Wan for this very inevitability—but actually hearing it, actually hearing Obi-Wan say those words aloud? 

Nothing could have prepared Anakin for this moment.

I didn’t want you. 

Obi-Wan was still talking, ranting, but his words seemed far away, distant, like he was standing at the end of a tunnel, miles away from Anakin, who felt lightheaded, unsteady on his feet.

“—ster had just died, the Sith were back, and here was this boy,” Obi-Wan’s voice, tight and forceful, floated in and out of the air, “This boy for whom my master discarded me without a second thought, this boy, who was now my responsibility to raise and train.”

Anakin couldn’t look at him. Didn’t want to see the resentment in the set of his mouth, the long-buried hatred in the furrow of his brow. 

“My responsibility—me, a barely knighted Jedi, practically a padawan myself.”

Obi-Wan let out a bark of disbelieving laughter, a sharp edge to it that sliced Anakin to his core.

“I could barely take care of myself in the days after Qui-Gon died, let alone another human being. And now I had the duty to fulfill my master’s dying wish to train this boy on the off-chance that he would save the galaxy.” 

Do not cry.

Anakin willed himself to keep looking down, to stay impassive, to not raise Obi-Wan’s ire higher than it already was. If he betrayed how much these words cut him, how deep a wound they inflicted on his heart, then the magnitude of his attachment would be revealed, and that would only make Obi-Wan hate him more. 

And Anakin didn’t think he could take any more of Obi-Wan’s hate.

Do not cry.

He heard Obi-Wan take a steadying breath, audibly reigning himself in. When he spoke next, his voice was softer, yet reverberated through Anakin's mind as if he had screamed them.

“So, no. I did not want you.” 

He sensed Obi-Wan, his accursed, beloved former master, take a step towards him. Anakin stilled, a horrible thought overtaking him.

Would he strike him? Obi-Wan had never—would never—but he had also never said anything like this out loud to Anakin before. He had finally crossed the line.

Done the un-take-back-able.

Anakin had always walked a thin line with Obi-Wan, pushing and prodding, bringing out Obi-Wan’s frustration, his rolled eyes, dry jabs, and sometimes disappointed frown, but he had somehow avoided tipping the scales all the way over—at least, not until now.

Now, when he had finally pushed too far. 

Fuck. 

Do not cry. Do not cry—

A hand fell on his shoulder. It took everything in Anakin not to flinch.

“But don’t you ever think,” Obi-Wan said, the fierce passion back in his voice and Anakin’s stomach sank, sank sank. “Not even for one second, that you were not the best thing to ever happen to me.” 

Anakin’s head snapped up in shock. The very thing he had wanted to avoid doing at all costs, but surely he had misheard, surely Obi-Wan had not just said what he just said—

“You are the best friend I have ever had,” Obi-Wan said, and there was still that hard edge to his words, but now that Anakin was looking at him, he saw that his master's eyes were not filled with anger-hate-bitterness like he had feared, but simple determination.

A serious expression, but one that was interlaced with a gentleness that Anakin could only describe as fond.

“It has been… the honor and delight of my life to teach you,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin couldn’t move because the truth of it was ringing in the Force, unmistakable and passionate and firm. “And now to fight and live beside you as equals.”

Was Anakin dreaming?

A flicker of a smile crossed Obi-Wan’s face, like he was lost in remembrance and, oh, Anakin’s heart couldn’t take it, couldn’t handle this emotional whiplash, his greatest fear and most secret hope come to life over the course of a single conversation.

“It only took you about a day and a half to win me over. I was petrified every day that I would mess you up, leave you worse than I found you, let you down, Qui-Gon down, the galaxy down—but not once did I regret you. Not once would I have traded you away from anything.”

Obi-Wan squeezed Anakin’s shoulder and Anakin shuddered, letting out a choked whimper that he immediately wished he could take back, but Obi-Wan’s eyes softened, and through their bond Anakin could only feel kindness, affection, maybe even—

Obi-Wan's expression shifted once more, for the first time his steadiness in the force wavering, and he swallowed, appearing nervous, if Anakin didn't know any better.

"I do not always find it easy to express myself with words, like this. It is... difficult for me. But it appears that it is necessary today."

Anakin stared at him helplessly.

“I am unbearably sorry that I have ever made you believe otherwise. That you could ever think that you are not my favorite person in the world.”

Anakin could not stop the tear from falling down his cheek. And Obi-Wan Kenobi, high general of the Republic Army, one of the strongest, most respected masters in the Jedi Order, and Anakin's former teacher, gently caught it with the pad of his thumb and wiped it away.

"You are," Obi-Wan's voice came out rough and tinged with something that made Anakin's breath catch in his throat. But then just as quickly, Obi-Wan gave him a small smile, his voice clear once more, even dry and teasing.

“I hope that's alright with you.”

Anakin's answering smile was watery, but it could have lit up the entire galaxy anyhow.

[baphometsss]

On Solas's romantic history

Okay. I know what the consensus is. That he’s way too smooth in Inquisition to be inexperienced but... (and I’m fully prepared to get shat on for this lmao don’t kill me)

When he kisses Lavellan, that doesn’t read to me like he’s super suave and seductive. It reads more like—endeared by them trying to run away after kissing him, then being so surprised by how good the kiss felt, that he grabs Lavellan, kisses them again, pulls back with a surprised look on his face, and then goes in for more. It’s touch-starved, desperate, hungry. It’s not really all that smooth because he’s literally bending them over backwards lmao like Solas can you chill maybe

He is very smooth when flirting with Lavellan, but he's also an absolute gobshite who's spent thousands of years sassing the hell out of wannabe gods so that's not a surprise. He's witty af and enjoys some back and forth.

Solas is a very lonely man. He keeps everyone at arm’s length because he’s seen what getting close to people can do to him. His biggest fear is dying alone, and he almost gives into that because it’s what he believes he deserves for all he’s done. His life has been so stressful for so long that he's almost totally unable to consider anything else but his battles. He even says explicitly that he's tired.

That doesn’t make me think of someone who was out there in Ancient Elvhenan sleeping around all those years. No doubt he considered it, but he likely didn't pursue much with anyone physical; he enjoyed spending as much time as possible in the Fade. (The banter with Blackwall doesn't count to me personally since Solas himself thinks the whole idea is preposterous, which speaks for itself really.) Especially after being a slave/servant to Mythal seems to have voided him of his agency for some time. Then he led a rebellion and fought for thousands of years against brutal tyrants. Any one of the people he was close to could’ve been trying to kill him. Lavellan, however, has no reason to do so, so he can flirt with them freely. In all that time, it seems as though the only people he allowed to get close to the real him were Felassan and Mythal. I don’t think he slept with either, because the relationship was familial. Felassan was also loyal to Mythal, but didn’t burn his vallaslin off. (Is this a right hand/left hand of the Divine parallel again? Two brothers and their mother? Idk, I need to think about that one). For creatures with bodies made from the blood of Titans, they don’t have blood families. They would’ve had to forge their own, which is what Solas did with Mythal and Felassan.

And then there’s his ‘it has been a long time’. Most have taken this to mean that it’s been a long time since he’s been intimate with someone, but given what we know now and that he spent thousands of years in the Fade while his body was in uthenera… I wonder if he’s actually saying-- ‘it has been a long time since I lived in a body’-- ie. ‘it has been a long time since I felt physical drives, a long time since I have felt so physically real’. To me, this makes a lot more sense than the ‘he’s thousands of years old he can’t possibly be a virgin/inexperienced’ take bc like... My friends. It probably didn’t feel like thousands of years to him bc he’s essentially always existed. Time is different for spirits. It’s not like he’s gonna go: ‘well I’m nearly 4000y/o, better lose my v-card’. Time is no object when you are a timeless being. Then, given the path his life took, it wouldn’t make a lot of sense for him to be that experienced given how hard it is for him to trust.

I also personally headcanon him as heavily demisexual/demiromantic too. His true nature is so non-physical that the idea of him being very promiscuous or something just doesn’t fit his character. He needs a mental connection, to feel something, before sharing much of himself, or allowing himself the vulnerability intimacy brings, something he clearly feels with Lavellan based on how shaken up by it he is.

And it’s also canon that Solas has never been in love before meeting Lavellan. So. If he went however many millennia without falling in love, it’s also possible he went without intimacy for a long time too.

To be clear I’m not trying to say that this is the correct conclusion. My opinion has just changed a little since Veilguard (I used to think he was being smooth etc bc he's old af/v experienced, but with confirmation of former spirit Solas it’s changed my perspective somewhat)

Also:

‘Things have always been easier for me in the Fade’

‘I am not often thrown by things that happen in dreams’ my man is shooketh guys SHOOKETH

[loassbarbie]

"my wishes are conflicting and I don't know what to manifest" - stop "building a masterplan" right. now.

(if you're struggling with manifesting different things - an sp, a career, because you think they should match: this is for you.)

Before anything else: you need to have a heart-to-heart with yourself.

Now, ever since I was a teenager I do it in the bathroom. That's right. I sit on the toilet and have endless conversations with myself. I play two characters: myself and myself as a therapist (what would I say to this person if they came to me for advice?). When I'm "portraying" the therapist, I do it with an open heart; "those are not my problems, I'm just listening to someone else, so I can be fully honest with them" (if that makes sense). Like REALLY find that counselor inside your mind; they are there, they just need to be called. It's like doing self-parenting work to heal from mother/father wounds.

I had a heart-to-heart with myself last night. I was experiencing a lot of anxiety regarding what I actually wanted, specially career-wise and "how that related to my sp". Here are some "highlights" of what my inner therapist told me.

WHY exactly do you want this career? What is your TRUE motivation for wanting this?

Me: "I am extremely focused on an sp right now, an sp who doesn't know me. A celebrity. So I keep trying to find the jobs that will give me the biggest chance to run into him. I want to become someone he admires."

Well, you say you believe in this law (of Assumption), right? Then why aren't you practicing it? The law says it is done. Doesn't matter how, or where, or why, you already have it. If you manifest that your sp is crazy for you no matter what you do for a living, if you manifest you two are together, if you have it in your 4D, if you REALLY have it on your 4D (if you can feel it, if you can live it in your mind, if thinking about it makes you happy, if you KNOW you have it because 4D IS THE REALITY), the Universe will make it reflect on your 3D, not you! Stop trying to generate situations, it's a lot simpler than you think: assume and continue assuming. It's done. It already happened. It'll reflect on your 3D one way or the other; it is not your job to choose/plan how or where or why it'll happen, it just will! In fact, if you keep doubting it will happen because you don't know EXACTLY the circumstances in which it will, this means you are doubting! And if you persist on your doubt, you are not persisting on your assumption. The doubt is taking control of your mind, not allowing you to persist on your assumption. If you don't ASSUME IT'S DONE, THEN I'M SORRY, BUT IT REALLY ISN'T! Trying to DIY the law (picking careers, fixing ways to get near your sp) is NOT TRUSTING THE LAW WORKS.

Now that you've realized you don't need to follow a specific path to have your sp, what exactly do YOU wanna do? What is that career that makes your heart beat faster, that makes you shiver; what is your dream job? Don't consider any other factors; forget about your sp, don't reminisce about it being "hard to get", don't think about money. And SPECIALLY don't think "what will I do if it doesn't work?" - that doubt is exactly what is going to keep you from living it. Think about that. What do you truly want to do? What do you want to do the most? If you take a minute to eliminate every obstacle society has invented for you, you'll find that answer inside of you.

Stay true to your heart and trust the process.

That's really all it takes. No masterplan, no connecting the dots. That is the Universe's job, not yours.

[de4dlyniightshade]

Dunno if u have seen it but I’d really love ur version of the NSFW alphabet for Spencer Reid

(Not sure if that really counts as a Drabble or a super long headcanon. I tried to go thru ur blog and I didn’t see where u had done 1 before!!)

ON IT!!!

doing it with sub!spencer ofc<3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): super sleepy and cuddly, just wants you to hold him and kiss him and play with his hair. also goes borderline nonverbal, just wants to be in your company.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): his favourite body part on himself is honestly probably his brain ngl BUT otherwise i'd say his hair, he takes good care of his hair and takes the time to make sure it looks nice so i'd say his hair. as for on you probably your hips or eyes, your eyes is the answer he tells people but actually he just loves gripping your hips and pinching the fatty skin there and placing kisses on your hipbones.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): loves cumming in you. so much. but also loves cumming on you, more specifically cumming on your pussy after fucking you, the way it looks running over you just making his head spin.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): pervert. not a creepy pervert but still a pervert. will stick around if he walks in on you changing, stare at your boobs and ass when he thinks you don't see him, shamefully touches your underwear for longer than he should when he's doing laundry, will spend a good while scanning your body while you sleep, especially if you're wearing shorts or a tank top.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): not experienced. has no idea what he's doing. he tries his best and learns fast but he needs a lot of guidance and care but he prefers you taking control anyway.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): cowgirl. nothing beats getting ridden in his mind, the sight of you on top of him, your boobs bouncing with each thrust and the way you gripped his waist.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): i wouldn't say he's serious but he's not humorous either, whenever your touching him he just becomes a moaning mess and can hardly think for himself, just completely lost in the pleasure.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.): not shaved bald but definitely trimmed, if not for your benefit then definitely for his own.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): soooo lovey, just holding you and kissing you and snuggling into you and telling you that he loves you and thanking you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): definitely jerks off a lot when you're apart because he just gets really sexually frustrated without you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): mommy kink!!!

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): bed first, always, it's just more private and intimate but he also likes it on the couch but that's more of a spur of the moment thing.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): anything and everything. you smiled at him? horny. kissed him? extra horny. hugged him? horny. literally anything you do can get him going.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): blindfolds on him for obvious reasons, also domming, he just can't do it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): giving all the way!!! even if he's not that good at it he puts his heart and soul into it. more often than not he gets carried away and forgets he's trying to get you to cum bcs he just loves to taste you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): loves it fast but not too rough if that makes sense? like he doesn't wanna hurt afterwards and whenever he's on top he just gets so caught up that he can't help but fuck you desperately.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): likes them a lot and however often you're up for it, especially before work. definitely walks into that building with a real pep in his step after a quickie in the morning.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): definitely game to experiment with a lot of things you wanna try, but nothing too crazy like he wouldn't be into slapping or extreme bondage, but a little tying up he's game for.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): not many. he gets easily overwhelmed and overstimulated bcs he's just so sensitive. can go three rounds at very best.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): doesn't own toys himself but if you do he uses them on you, more specifically if you had a vibrator he'd use it on you when you're tired. also let's you use a vibrator on him, the feeling of it pressed to his tip making him cum embarrassingly fast. not to forget pegging, would let you peg him or use a dildo on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): not at all, you're more the one to tease him but he doesn't have enough patience or self control to tease you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): very loud and doesn't even realise it, he just gets so lost in his own mind that he can't even hear himself.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): loves being bitten by you, not aggressively enough that it hurts too bad but if he was on top and you bit into his shoulder when you came he'd definitely follow quick after.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): around 7 inches, not too thick but not too thin either, curved upwards slightly, the prettiest pink tip and not overly veiny but definitely a few. also i feel like he has pretty nipples idc.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): very high, needy alllllll the time like could go at it at the drop of a hat it doesn't matter what time of day he could be rock hard in seconds for you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): pretty quickly depending on the time, if it was one of those morning quickies ofc he can't but otherwise he tries to stay awake but never manages to actually stay awake that often.

[gaylordscooter]

One Year of This So-Called Hell

It's been awhile since they've started living at the castle. They've grown used to it. They wouldn't call it their home or call each other their housemates, but they certainly thought of it like that.

However, despite how long they’ve been here, they still have yet to get acquainted with Nightmare. They were all casual with each other except with him. For obvious reasons, including but not limited to the fact he kidnapped them all and puts them through grueling situations from time to time.

Though, that latter reason has diminished over time. They didn't know if he was running out of ideas or what, because recently these situations have become akin to game nights. Quite literally they would play some board game or card game. It was kinda fun. None of them were going to complain though, even if they found it odd.

But today something especially odd happened. Not only was there a breakfast setup for them when they arrived at the kitchen this morning, Nightmare himself was at the table.

At first none of them said anything to him. Then Killer decided he couldn't stand the silence and said a good morning that was directed at everyone.

“Good morning, Killer,” Nightmare responded in a formal tone. He took a bite out of his pancakes. The three were watching him in disbelief as he chewed and swallowed. He looked up, taking note that none of them were making a move to sit down. “I hope the food isn't that bad. It took me a few tries to make something decent.”

“you cooked this?” Horror asked in surprise. He shot a skeptical look at the food. He's never messed with their food before, but he wouldn't be surprised if he started now.

“I made an effort to. There are no eggs as I couldn't extract the edible part without getting the casing mixed up in it.” He continued to eat, trying to show the food wasn't tampered with.

Killer shrugged and pulled out a chair to sit down a few chairs away from Nightmare. He grabbed a plate and a few pancakes. He quickly inspected the food before dousing it in an ungodly amount of syrup and began to eat.

Nightmare couldn't help but stare at Killer's soul as they ate, as weird as that was. He was transfixed by the shape. It was different, much more reminiscent of a proper monster soul rather than the usual target.

“hey, bud, my eyes are up here,” Killer said.

Nightmare's eye snapped up as if he was a child that was caught holding a knife. He noticed that Killer’s eye sockets, which were usually empty, had ringed eyelights at the moment, but usually he’d only have them when he was experiencing intense emotions—often negative. He didn't sense any negativity from him at the moment.

“whatcha lookin’ at?” he questioned despite knowing the answer.

Nightmare felt the other two’s tension and wariness. “Your soul's different,” he noted.

Killer’s posture relaxed a little. “oh, yeah. it's been that way for a bit.” He glanced at the other two, silently pleading them to stop standing in place awkwardly and to actually join them at the table.

Fortunately, Horror read his mind and made a move to sit down, prompting Dust to as well.

“May I ask what it means for it to look that way?” Nightmare implored.

Killer seemed taken aback by the question. His smile went crooked, at least more than usual and he slouched as if to cover his soul with the table. “am i allowed to say ‘no’? you kinda already asked.”

“You need not answer,” he responded. He dropped the topic; the question made Killer uncomfortable and he would rather not drive him away.

Dust and Horror were finally beginning to eat. Nightmare was almost worried they’d never start.

“i’ll tell you if you answer two of my questions,” Killer eventually said, to his surprise.

Of course he’d turn this into a bargain. “Ask away.”

He noticed that piqued Dust and Horror's interest.

“what’s up with the breakfast? you've never done this before.” Killer said.

“I can be nice, once in a while.”

Killer scoffed, rolling his eyelights.

“And it's a special occasion. It's been a year since I first brought you all here,” he added. He debated doing something like this in the first place. His relationship with these three was unusual. He was their tormentor; their personalized hell. At the very same time, he was their provider, in a way. He’d bring them food, water and shelter, things normally a parental figure would do—even though he was everything but that.

Horror laughed dryly, “how nice, a breakfast to celebrate a whole year after you kidnapped us to treat us like your toys.”

However, as far as he knew, he was nothing but a demon and that was exactly how they saw him.

His brother was an angel, and he was a demon. That's just how things were.

“second question, why haven't you ever messed with our food?”

Horror’s expression soured as he glared at Killer like it was a warning.

“it'd be pretty effective torture, right?” He continued to eat despite the topic at hand.

“It’d be effective,” he agreed, “but only once. Afterwards, Horror would be too far gone to do anything with.”

Horror dropped the fork he was holding with a clatter. His smile was tense and nearly a straight line.

“you’d still have me and dust, though,” Killer said.

“you little shit—”

Killer turned his head to Horror revealing his serious expression to him to silently tell him, no, he's not giving him ideas. He's trying to get information.

“Killing or irreparably harming any of you would be a major inconvenience, that is why.”

Killer stood up and leaned towards Nightmare, putting his hands on the table. “you said we were easily replaceable,” he remarked.

“I said there were many like you, not that you were easily replaceable,” he corrected. He didn't like where this conversation was going. “I answered your questions, now answer mine.”

“fine,” Killer huffed, sitting back down and crossing his arms. “i don’t know,” he said.

“What?” Nightmare said in a low rumble. Was he tricked? He didn't take kindly to the notion that Killer was going back on their deal. His tentacles flicked irritably.

Horror, noticing the ends of them sharpening, decided to speak up, “he doesn't. at least, he doesn't know what causes it.”

His tentacles relaxed, no longer threatening to lash out at Killer. “Do you feel any different?”

Shouldn't he already know that?

“oh he sure feels different,” Horror said.

Killer shrunk in on himself, trying to look invisible. Embarrassment. Shame? Guilt.

Why was it suddenly harder to discern his emotions?

“I want to hear it from him.” His eye bore into Killer.

Killer groaned, bordering on a growl, “you’re telling me you haven't felt a difference? actually, i’m surprised you’ve kept me around before, considering i didn’t feel anything.”

Nightmare's eye widened.

He didn't feel anything before? That wasn't right. He could sense his emotions the whole time. That's how he found him in the first place. As far as he knew, he wasn't like Ink either. It was very clear he had a soul.

“You did feel before. That's how I found you,” he insisted.

Killer narrowed his sockets. Anger. “i was only acting, until recently. none of it was real.”

He could feel bitterness coming from Dust.

Killer frowned, risking a glance at Dust. “but it is now,” and it’s terrifying, “and it’s weird.”

“How long has it been like this?” He knew Killer was getting annoyed at all the questions but he couldn't just drop it now. He didn't care if he was getting annoyed.

Killer had the audacity to stand up.

“Sit back down,” he ordered.

“i don't need to answer you. i don't need to follow your orders. i'm not your pet,” he spat as he roughly pushed his chair in, making the table jolt.

“You aren’t,” he sighed as Killer stormed off. His eye darted to Dust and Horror. They hardly ate anything.

“it’s been fluctuating ever since we got here,” Horror said once Killer left. “but recently it's been staying that shape.”

Nightmare was surprised at Horror’s willingness to share that information. “I’ve been sensing fear from him recently.” It didn't take a genius to find out that it was connected. “But there's also been positive emotions—coming from all of you, actually.”

Horror scoffed in a way that sounded like a laugh, “call that stockholm syndrome.”

He did not know what “stockholm syndrome” was, but from his knowledge he knew that the word “syndrome” had negative connotations. Did he inflict a disease of some kind on them without knowing?

He stood up, picking up his plate with one of his tentacles that stretched over to the sink to place it down. “I will be taking my leave now. Thank you for humoring me.” His body melted into the shadows and he was gone.

Horror shook his head, “what a weirdo.” He put a few more pancakes on his plate and resumed eating.

Dust refrained from eating, merely picking bits from his pancake and dropping it back down on the plate.

“so…how are things between you and killer?” he dared to ask. It's been about a week since they had that fight. The two were avoiding each other. Well, Dust was obviously avoiding him. Killer just made no attempt to approach him—at least to his knowledge. This led to Killer spending more time with Horror, and honestly, he has no clue how Dust has tolerated this guy for so long.

Dust made a guttural noise that was basically a growl.

Though it was a clear show of his discontent, Horror couldn't stifle a chuckle.

That only exacerbated Dust’s sour mood. He stood up.

“hey, wait,” Horror said. “you hardly ate anything.”

“not hungry,” he signed.

Horror looked unconvinced. “that's bullshit and you know it.”

Dust sighed and picked up his plate.

“c’mon dude, don't go wallowing in your room.”

“don't play therapist,” Dust muttered.

“someone in this castle needs to stay level-headed. you didn't answer my question.”

“what do you think?”

“i think…that killer’s an asshole and you're right to be pissy, but you two should probably talk,” he suggested. He gave him a serious look, “he's driving me insane, dust.”

“it's all he’s good at,” he said bitterly.

“c’mon now, that's not true.”

Dust didn't even have to say anything.

“ehhh. we still care about him anyway,” Horror said.

Dust was mad that he couldn't refute that without lying.

Nightmare found Killer outside in the forest, he was nearby a make-shift shelter he made for the stray cats that lived here. It took him an embarrassingly long time to find him because he wasn't in the castle, but him being outside for once was a welcome change. Since he wasn't holed up in his room it meant Nightmare didn't have to worry about intruding on his private quarters.

Killer loudly groaned when he noticed Nightmare. He ignored him and continued to watch and pet the cats.

Nightmare remembered how terrified Killer was when he saw him hanging out with a bunch of cats. He thought he would harm them—he was so sure that he instigated a fight to protect them. Once that was resolved, he started going outside much more often just to see the cats. He was still tense whenever Nightmare was near them, however.

“Have you named them yet?” Nightmare asked.

“what’s it to ya? waiting for me to be more attached to them so you can rip them away from me when the time’s right?” Killer snapped. He didn't take his eye off the cats.

There were six of them, each of them having various colors and patterns. He was surprised Killer could take care of that many, considering he couldn't take care of himself.

Nightmare hummed thoughtfully, eye skimming over the group of cats. “I was merely curious, usually people name things they look after.”

Killer scoffed, “you named dust and horror.” The brown cat rubbed its head against his outstretched hand.

“Yes.”

“you don't ‘look after’ them.” He gently scratched the chin of the cat. It was purring.

“Depends on how you define ‘look after’. I definitely monitor them.”

“no shit,” he snarked.

“i also supply food, water and shelter.”

Killer frowned and stood up. The cats meowed in protest. He faced Nightmare. “what are you getting at?”

“You see me as needlessly cruel, as if I’m incapable of doing kind things,” he replied.

Killer laughed forcefully. It startled the cats, making them retreat to their shelter. “what? suddenly feeling like you deserve sympathy? i don't give a shit if you do kind things. that doesn't change the fact that you tortured us.”

Surely none of it was worse than their situations in their old universes.

“Right. Forgive me for digressing, but what, pray tell, is ‘stockholm syndrome’?”

It seemed like Killer found that question humorous. “you trying to do that to us? is that what your deal is?”

Frankly, Nightmare had no idea what Killer was talking about.

“you start being all nice and dandy to make us think ‘oh he's not all bad. i actually enjoy being here’.”

“You do,” Nightmare pointed out, “enjoy being here, I mean.” He could sense that clearly.

“fuck off. you don't know that for sure,” he said bitterly.

He couldn't deny the utter contempt Killer held for him.

He dipped his head. “I apologize.”

“you what?” Killer said incredulously.

Why was he apologizing? He was deceiving him. He had to be.

Nightmare didn't know what he was doing. He's hardly bothered to show remorse. There wasn't any reason to start now. Except, after seeing the companionship between the three, he couldn't help but feel jealous.

He wanted connection. It was pathetic to admit, but the only person he was close to was his brother. Was.

How cruel of the multiverse to allow him to yearn for something he wasn't allowed to have. He couldn't help but try to get what he wanted.

“For choosing you three to inflict pain upon, I apologize. You don't deserve it yet I do it anyway.”

“i don't deserve it?” Killer said. “hah! who the hell am i talking to right now? you really nightmare?” He strode closer to Nightmare and thrust a finger at him, poking him in the chest.

Nightmare was shocked by the sudden contact.

“y’know, you and me are pretty similar in some aspects. we don’t have the capacity to care and yet we're pretending we can anyway. you can't fool me. i know you're just trying to manipulate me with that apology.”

Nightmare took a minute to respond, scanning over Killer’s feelings and expression. Again, he was hard to read, like he was able to obscure it. He wasn't trying to manipulate him. He really wasn't. But he supposed he hasn't been upfront enough with him to believe that. “Do you recall when we encountered Fresh for the first time?”

Killer snarked, “what about it?”

“I could've left you, you said.”

“you didn't save us out of compassion, you just needed us for your stupid plans or whatever.”

“But you thought you were replaceable. Which one is it?” he countered.

“it's whatever's most beneficial to you,” he retorted. “you said it would’ve been a hassle.”

He did say that. Nightmare was stumped. He didn't even know where he was trying to go with this. It wasn't like he could make Killer’s hatred towards him disappear.

Maybe he could make Killer’s self hatred go away.

Why did he think that? Did he want that? That wouldn't benefit him.

Maybe he was sick of the feeling of hatred, like loneliness. Like being sick of having the same food over and over again.

He felt something down by his tentacles. He tried to hide his surprise but he hastily looked down to see one of the cats nudging against one of his tentacles. It was the brown one that cuddled Killer a moment ago. Nightmare froze.

“hey!” Killer barked and knelt down to shoo the cat away from Nightmare. “baked beans, i told you not to get near him,” he scolded the cat.

The cat meowed out a whine.

Killer frowned and stood back up as the cat walked away.

“‘Baked beans’?” Nightmare echoed. “Is that its name?”

“don’t hurt her.”

“You are awfully insistent that I’m going to hurt these cats. Has anyone told you about self fulfilling prophecies?”

Killer decided to take that as a threat and drew out his knife.

Nightmare made an attempt to seem less threatening, having all of his non-essential tentacles tucked away. “I’m not going to hurt them, Killer.”

“you're lying!” he shouted and pointed his knife at him. “i’ve seen it happen. you're going to do it, i know it! you're just trying to get my guard down.”

He’s seen it happen?

“Are you having nightmares, Killer?”

He didn't answer.

He couldn't reason with him now, he supposed. Nightmare decided the best course of action was to simply leave. He sunk into the ground.

Killer frantically scanned the area, taking a few minutes until he confirmed that Nightmare did indeed leave. He knelt down, curling in on himself as he sighed. The cats walked back over to him.

Nightmare reappeared in the kitchen, startling the two skeletons that were currently on the couch of the other half of the room.

Usually they wouldn't be startled at his appearance. At least, not anymore. He caught sight of the drinks in their hands, they seemed to be similar. He scrunched his eye in disgust. “What the hell is that?”

They were surprised at his language. Usually he didn't express surprise like that, or at all. Dust and Horror looked at each other as if neither had an answer.

Instead of verbally answering, Dust thrust the drink out. Was he offering it to him?

Nightmare got closer to inspect it. When he reached out to grab it, he saw the two’s sockets widen. He brought it up to his face, the goop covering his mouth melted away as he took a sip.

Oh god. That was awful.

He refrained from spitting it out and managed to brute-force his way into swallowing. A whole shiver rippled throughout his body, and it didn't help that it literally made the goo on his body ripple for a bit.

Horror and Dust remained painfully silent.

Nightmare calmly handed the glass back to Dust. “It's horrible,” he deadpanned.

“he was just trying to show you it, not…” Horror didn't even have to finish his sentence.

Oh great, he misunderstood. He didn't even have to drink that. It was painfully obvious he was embarrassed, even after he covered his mouth once more. “Why do you drink such awful concoctions?”

Dust shrugged, wiping the rim of the glass with his gloves before resuming the consumption of that horrific beverage.

Nightmare refrained from showing his disgust. He moved over to one of the chairs near the couch to sit down. All of his tentacles disappeared, revealing the rest of his cloak that covered most of his legs.

Dust spat his drink out while Horror gawked.

Nightmare flinched, “What?”

Dust gestured at the lower half of his body.

“you have legs!” Horror exclaimed.

“Of course I have legs!? I’m a skeleton like you two.”

“you’re a skeleton?”

Nightmare realized how little they knew about him. “What did you think I was?”

Horror scrunched his face, unsure how to answer. “not…a skeleton?? what's up with all the slime then?”

“I suppose you could call it melted parts of my own body fused with a surplus of magic. Would you care to see how I look without the ‘slime’?”

Horror was very confused at his willingness to be open about this. Which was fair. From their point of view, all of this was coming from nowhere.

Dust, however, immediately signed “yes.” It seemed like his curiosity trumped his confusion.

“Alright,” he said. He focused, shifting his energy into one concentrated point: his forehead. The usual glowing cyan crescent moon on his forehead grew into a full moon as the goop on his body disappeared, revealing white bones with a blue tint to them underneath.

The silence that came after was deafening. The way Horror and Dust looked at him felt different. It was like they saw him as a different person like this.

Sure he was less menacing in this form, but he didn't think he looked that different.

He did. He totally did. He was even smaller like this. He was probably shorter than the two if he were to stand.

“you look so young…” Horror said.

He didn't like the tone of his voice. Maybe this was a mistake.

He quickly changed back to his usual form. The dark goo flowed out from the moon like a waterfall until his whole body was coated in it once again. He immediately felt more comfortable. He decided he was never going to do that again. “As I said, I’m a skeleton like you two.”

“you’ve mentioned you had a brother, does that mean—”

“My brother is not a Papyrus, no. He looks just like me. I did not have a world like yours nor was I ever like you. In fact, I did not even have a world.”

Horror blinked at the onslaught of information. He just learned more about him than he ever has the entire year. “you're pretty chatty today.” About yourself, he meant.

“I suppose it's the torture for today.”

“torture for us or for you?”

At this point, what was the difference? Nightmare thought, but it went unsaid.

Once Dust finished his drink, he got up to put the glass in the sink. When he tried to go to the hallway, Nightmare opened a portal underneath him to get him back on the couch. He glared at Nightmare in protest.

“Dust, I know you and Killer are having some…complications right now,” he said, completely changing the subject. “Although it's provided plenty of energy for me, you two can't avoid each other forever.”

“but wouldn't that benefit you?” Horror questioned.

“I’m not going to risk Dust killing him out of anger.” That wasn't even an exaggeration considering their game of Monopoly the other day. He had to physically wrench them apart when Killer made him bankrupt. “Go make up with each other.” He summoned a portal underneath Dust, sending him to the forest where Killer was.

Dust managed to land on his feet, luckily. He didn't want to fall on his face right in front of Killer to give him something to laugh about.

Killer damn near screamed at his sudden appearance, but he played it off by coughing into his hand when he realized it was just him. Now all the cats around him were skittering about frantically. “miss me that much you had to drop by?”

Dust was completely unfazed by his pun, leaving Killer to awkwardly laugh at his own joke.

“‘m pretty proud of that one,” he mumbled as if to voice disappointment.

Of course he was proud, it was a miracle whenever he could think of a pun on the spot. It was something he was oddly insecure about, not being able to come up with jokes that well.

Dust supposed it was a reminder that he was hardly “Sans” anymore. It seemed like such a small thing until you thought about it. Dust knew he’d use humor to cope or to cheer people up. It was second nature, a skill polished throughout his life, even. To suddenly lose that ability…he wondered if Killer looks at his past self and sees a stranger.

“you just gonna stand there and stare at me like i stabbed your soul?”

While he wasn't skillful at punning, he sure was great at handcrafting every sentence he says to annoy him.

Killer’s cheerful facade dropped, “seriously, are you? i’m having a moment with the cats.”

Is that what he's been replaced with? Cats?

Even though Nightmare ordered him to make up with him, he really didn't feel like talking at the moment.

He wondered what Killer would do if he just continued to stand here in silence. Knowing Killer, he won’t be able to just ignore him.

Yet he turned around to face the cats. He knelt down to pick one up—the one with a pure brown coat—that one was his favorite. He named it something stupid but Dust couldn't remember it off the top of his head at the moment.

He just kinda held the cat for a little while, petting it in silence.

And then after a bit he stopped. The cat whined at this and hopped out of his arms.

He sighed. “i…i’m sorry, okay?” he finally said.

Pathetic, he couldn't even face him when he said it.

“i shouldn't have messed with you like that. i thought you were playing along. i forgot that…i refused to believe you really did care about me and it took you stabbing my soul to get me to realize.”

He had to pause as his breath shuddered, probably trying to keep himself composed. He still hasn't turned around or stood up for that matter.

“i don't know if i can care about you back. i care now, but,” his voice wavered, “you’ve seen how unstable my soul is. at any moment it’ll just snap back to the same old shape of a target and then boom, nothing! a pillow could care about you more than me.”

“i think all i’d do is hurt you,” Killer said. He turned his head to look at him, “you wouldn't want that, would y—woah,” only to see Dust right in front of him, crouched down to be at eye level.

Killer raised a brow bone, having zero clue where this was going.

Dust put a hand on his own chest and then gently brought out his soul.

Killer’s eyes blew wide open.

It was odd, seeing a normal monster soul for the first time in awhile. Well, it wasn't entirely normal. It was pale white, covered in cracks, and an unusual dim glow of red outlined the edges. He could guess where that came from and it wasn't LV.

Before he could ask what his deal was, Dust spoke, “get your knife.”

Oh, HELL no.

His own soul (metaphorically) jumped out of his body at the instruction. He immediately knew where this was going and he did not like it.

“no!” Killer objected. “the hell’s gotten into you? i’d kill you!”

Dust looked as calm as ever. “you're scared,” he noted.

“of course i…” Killer furrowed his brow bones. “you’re trying to prove a point aren't you?”

He saw Dust’s smile curl up. Bastard.

He held his soul out to him as if it wasn’t the culmination of his being. “hold it,” he said.

Killer stared at it, dumbfounded. “i’m not gonna—”

“forget the knife. hold it,” he repeated, apparently switching his approach to this.

Killer shakily held a hand out, allowing Dust to place his soul in it.

He dare not move, as if it was a motion sensor bomb. Nevertheless, he couldn't stop himself from trembling.

He shifted his gaze from the soul to Dust’s eyelights, unsure of which one to look at.

i could kill him. all i’d have to do is squeeze my hand shut. it’d be so easy. would it pop?

He didn't want that. God, he didn't want that at all.

“you're not going to kill me,” Dust stated like he was so sure of himself.

“i could.”

“do you want to?”

“god no.”

“and my soul’s still fine,” Dust remarked.

“what the fuck are we doing, dust?” Killer asked, looking at the soul in his hand in disbelief.

“i dunno, trust exercise?” he offered as an answer.

“pretty intense trust exercise,” he chuckled half-heartedly in an attempt to ease his tension.

“and stabbing your soul wasn't?”

“i wouldn't call a murder attempt a ‘trust exercise’.”

“you know i didn't want to kill you,” he reminded.

“right. you want your soul back now?”

Dust gave a nod.

Killer carefully handed his soul back to him. A moment later it was back in his rib cage.

He let out a sigh of relief, keeping his gaze on Dust to ensure that he hadn't become his namesake. “we chill?”

Dust smirked. “we chill.”

A portal to the kitchen opened near Killer and Dust immediately after.

They could see Nightmare and Horror sitting on the couch looking right at them. Nightmare was slowly clapping in a mocking manner.

“were you two watching the whole fucking time?!” Killer barked. He threw his hood over his head to cover his blushing face.

“Not the most conventional way I’ve seen two people make up,” Nightmare remarked. “It was certainly interesting to watch.”

“my life's not a goddamn sitcom, asshole!”

Nightmare guffawed. He was fucking with him and it was absolutely working.

Killer crossed his arms and pouted. He gave Dust a “can you believe this guy?” look.

Nightmare’s laughing ceased suddenly, “Hurry up and get inside. I have something to give you three.”

“oh, goody, is it a bomb?” Killer asked sarcastically. Despite his sass, he stepped through the portal alongside Dust.

“No, actually.”

A portal opened on the ceiling between Nightmare, Horror and them.

A shopping cart with a huge pile of clothes on it crashed down onto the floor.

It took Killer a second to realize those were the same clothes they left that time they went shopping, when they first encountered Fresh. He reached down to pick up one of the articles of clothing, they were still in fairly good shape. “how the fuck?”

“That is Killer’s gift, of course.” He looked at Dust. A wrapped present appeared in his hands. “As for you, I wasn't quite sure what would be appropriate for you.”

Dust cautiously took the present.

“how come he gets his gift all fancifully wrapped?” Killer complained. He was currently trying to get all the clothes back in the shopping cart. Alas, the pile he made the first time was a one-time feat.

“Because he's less annoying.”

Dust tore the wrapping paper and opened the box that was inside. He looked at the contents inside blankly.

“what is it?” Killer questioned.

Dust reached inside to take it out and show them.

Killer and Horror’s sockets widened as that familiar red-orange came into view.

It was Papyrus’s cape.

Nightmare was unsure what reaction this gift would get. He's seen other Sanses from Dusttale universes wearing it. It supposedly had sentimental value.

It seemed that Dust was also unsure how to react. There were conflicting emotions, Nightmare knew that much.

He carefully put the cape back in the box and signed a “thank you”.

“As for you, Horror,” He held out what appeared to be a rock at first.

Horror inspected it, realizing it was a phone—his phone. He was irked by the idea of Nightmare going to his home universe just to grab this. At least, he hoped he didn't do anything but grab this.

However, the phone might as well have been a rock. He doubted Nightmare knew the phone wouldn't even work. The thing hasn't been charged in years.

And then it caught him off guard by ringing. He flipped it open, seeing the words on the screen indicate that the call was coming from his brother.

He tried to stop his hopes from getting up. He reminded himself this could be a prank call and it wasn't his brother at all.

“Go on, answer it,” Nightmare urged.

This had to be a prank. Papyrus’s phone wouldn't be able to work there was no power—and even then he was in a completely different universe.

He answered the phone.

“SANS!” Papyrus’s voice immediately rang out. “FINALLY, I THOUGHT YOU’D NEVER ANSWER! YOU’RE ALIVE! OH MY GOD YOU’RE ACTUALLY ALIVE!” He sounded on the verge of tears.

“bro?”

“YES, SANS?”

“just checking that it's actually you and not a prerecorded message,” Horror managed to say. The smile on his face grew as it became genuine. He saw Dust and Killer watching him in his peripheral vision.

“I COULD SAY THE SAME THING. I WASN’T SURE THIS WOULD EVEN WORK!”

“how are you calling right now? was the core fixed?” he dared to ask.

“OH. UH, NO. ABOUT THAT…” Papyrus trailed off going quiet for a minute.

“what happened?” His grin faltered slightly.

“DO NOT FREAK OUT.”

“you're gonna make me freak out if you don't tell me what happened.”

“OUR WORLD WAS KINDA DESTROYED, BADLY.”

Horror’s eye socket went blank. “what?!” he shouted.

Papyrus was quick to clarify, “BUT I’M DOING FINE! ACTUALLY, WE RELOCATED TO A MUCH MORE HOSPITABLE PLACE! SURE OUR HOUSE AND THE ENTIRETY OF SNOWDIN IS COMPLETELY GONE FOREVER BUT THERE’S FOOD HERE AND MAGIC AND I CAN CALL YOU! SPEAKING OF WHICH—WHERE IN THE WORLD HAVE YOU BEEN!?”

Horror sighed in relief. He glanced at Nightmare, who looked eerily indifferent to all of this, before he answered his question. “i kinda got kidnapped by an otherworldly entity, sorry bro.”

“YOU AND YOUR WEIRD HOBBIES, WARN ME NEXT TIME. I THOUGHT YOU DIED. THE ENTIRETY OF SNOWDIN DESCENDED INTO ABSOLUTE CHAOS WITH YOU GONE—ALSO THE WORLD-DESTROYING THINGY PROBABLY PLAYED A ROLE IN THAT TOO.”

“aw geez, is everyone else okay?”

“YEA, EVEN UNDYNE.”

Horror’s expression soured at the mention of her. “well, that's great,” he said sarcastically. He vaguely heard someone else on the other side of the call. From what he heard it didn't sound like anyone he knew.

“OH, ALREADY?” Papyrus replied to the unidentified person. “I SEE,” he sounded disheartened. “BROTHER, I NEED TO END THE CALL NOW BEFORE IT TEARS A HOLE IN THE MULTIVERSE.”

“huh?”

“I’LL SEE YOU LATER, LOVE YOU!”

“love you too,” Horror managed to say before Papyrus hung up. The second the call ended he felt incredibly drained. He felt like he got a mental whiplash when he looked at the room he was in.

Killer seemed to tune out the last bit of their conversation as he managed to get all the clothes piled back on the shopping cart. It seemed like Dust helped him.

Nightmare was also looking at those two rather than at him. He wondered if he was eavesdropping on the phone call or not.

It's been an entire year since they've been here. He had no idea how much longer this would last. He didn't even know what would happen after.

“I will be out for the rest of the day,” Nightmare announced, opening a portal behind himself. “We are stocked up on supplies, correct?”

“you got it, chief,” Killer piped.

“Not my name…” Nightmare muttered before leaving.

Killer sighed the moment the portal closed, looking up at the pile of clothes. “i have no idea how i’m getting this to my room.”

“bet you can't get it to your room by the end of the day,” Horror said, still recovering from that call.

“hey. you're totally wrong.”

Horror shrugged, “time's ticking.”

Killer then decided that pushing the cart would be an effective way to get it to his room. To his credit, it wasn't until he was met with the obstacle that was the doorway to the hall that his plan became flawed. He turned his head to Horror. “so what are we betting exactly?”

[pipi-un-kaki-in-pipi-land]

your works are jaw dropping broOOO. gorgeous. a work of art. you SLAY at writing hcs i love it so much i really hope you can write more <33

demon slayer povs: the hashiras tending to your wounds

this comment really motivated me to write more of this TYSM ANON ily

wc: 1.1k>

Giyu

he’d probably complete the whole procedure silently, as he’s scared you’d waste your energy talking to him

you saw him carefully unwrapping the bandages and painstakingly wrapping it around your arm as you slightly winced at the pain

‘oh-, y/n, you okay? sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,”

you reassured him with a small nod as he gently continued to wrap the bandage, placing a kiss on it once he was done

“thanks hun,” you smiled weakly at him

“get well soon, darling,” he said before he got up to fetch some water

Iguro

just like giyu, he’d do it with silent treatment though you’d hear kaburamaru’s quiet hisses along the way

throughout the bandaging, he momentarily stopped as it reminded himself of the time where he had to bandage his own mouth to hide his traumatic scars

“darling, you okay?” you asked, worried at the sudden slight widening of his eyes

“oh, its nothing,” he shrugged it off, but you sensed that it had something to do with the bandage on his mouth

while he was calmly wrapping the wound on your leg, you leaned down and placed a heartfelt kiss on his forehead

“you're beautiful just the way you are,” you said as he glanced up at you

his eyes crinkled slightly; you knew that put a smile on his face

Mitsuri

she’d probably tend to your wounds the loudest way possible, constantly asking if you were okay

“oh dear, y/n, this looks terrible,” a pouty frown emerged on her face as she cleansed your wounds with cotton pads. “you okay??”

“im fine, honey, don’t worry too much,” you replied with a smile as you admiringly watched her bandage up the injuries on your knee

“alrighty! i hope this makes you feel better, darling. i put some ointment that kocho offered,” she smiled cheerfully, as she gave you a gentle headpat

“thanks ‘suri, youre the best,” you returned her smile with an even happier one from you

Muichiro

would be quiet too but would occasionally check up on you

he’d go like “oh, does this hurt?” or “you feeling okay?”

you were technically the only person he could express his true behavior to

he’d be experienced in this kind of stuff since he had to take care of his mom when she was sick

the thought of his sick mom made him want to protect you even more. he’d already lost his family, he couldn’t afford to lose you too

he’d treat the wound as meticulously as possible to prevent it from worsening

“thank you, mui. you don't know how much i treasure you,” you warmly smiled at him

though he didn’t say anything back, you knew his smile was all you needed to see.

Kyojuro

tbh i feel like he’ll just treat you like how he treated tanjiro when he got stabbed during the mugen train arc

“kyo, it huuurts,” you whined, hoping that he’ll do something instead of keep asking you to control your breathing

“okay okay, i’ll go fetch the med kit. make sure to control your breathing to stop the blood from coming out!” he darted to the other end of the house to get the necessities, his voice still loud as ever

when he got back, he tended to your lacerations as gently as possible, doing all of it with a proud smile on his face

“why the long face, y/n?” he noticed that your usual happy aura had dissipated all of a sudden

“i- i just hate being weak. i hate that you have to get distracted by your missions just to tend to my injuries,” you pouted, biting your lip

“my love, its part & parcel of your journey to make mistakes. as you continue on, you’ll find that these obstacles are nothing compared to what you’re actually facing. so, heads up, and look brightly into your future, okay?” he cheered you on while giving you a soft pat on the shoulder

“thank you, kyo.” you gratefully smiled as you dozed the rest of the evening off

Sanemi

he definitely wasn’t the best at playing it gentle

“ouuuch, nemi, be gentler please,” you winced as he placed a bandaid on your collarbone

“bold of you to say, y/n. somehow you don’t act like this when we’re making out,” he sneered, as he discarded the cotton wools in the trash

you were left speechless as an obvious blush sprawled across your face. only your boyfriend could make you like that, and you loved him for it

“yeah that’s right hun. now be a good toy and rest till i come back,” he taunted, though you swore you heard him mutter “get well soon darling” before he uttered those words

Tengen

he most likely cleans injuries with flamboyance no matter how bad it was

definitely has custom bandages embroidered with random stuff just for you

you saw him putting on gloves and stuff although your wound was really mild

“tengen- babe, there’s no need for all this,” you sighed in embarrassment; your boyfriend would go out of his ways just to treat a mild scratch

“nuh uh, i aint letting you pass with this wound. it could be infected, who knows?” he cocked his eyebrow as he placed a not-so-modest looking bandage on your wound

“aight, i really hope that helps, darling! want me to bring you some munchies?” he chuckled as he packed back up the amenities

“there’s really no need for that, babe. you’ve done more than enough,” you smiled, softly caressing his cheek

obviously he couldn’t care less about your response as he brought you snacks and then cuddled the night away

Shinobu

DEFINITELY would come up with an antidote just to cure your injury

“darling, we need you back on the ground as soon as possible. all your mentees are worried for you, and i can't bear seeing you in a state like this, okay?”

in this case, your injuries were quite bad and she had to put you on an iv drip

after she was done tending to your wounds, she placed a soft kiss on your cheek

“get well soon, honey,” she smiled as she rubbed her thumb on your fingers

“thank you, love. i’ll definitely recover fast thanks to you,” you chuckled weakly, squeezing her hand and never letting go

[adventuringblind]

Joint Coping

Lestappen x Reader

Genre: Angst

Dialouge: "Help me understand."

Summary: Max helps his partners learn to cope in healthy ways

Warnings: Selh-harm, unhealthy Coping, blood, Ferrari, Max being the sane one of the group

Notes: I would like to emphasize that this is a thing that does happen. I know because I've done it. This specifically is not something to be glorified at all. Self-harm done in groups can become competitive. This is a pretty toned down version of things I've experienced and it's less toxic. THIS IS NOT REACHING OUT. Just wanted to clarify :)

This is part of my 1000 follower celebration! Requests are still open if you'd like to participate (the link will take you to the request form).

Masterlist

Max knows something is wrong with his partners. It's like an itch in his brain he can't scratch. A sixth sense, if you will.

The two Ferrari drivers are struggling with their team. Every problem is their fault. They have become the Ferrari scapegoats. When they do poor, it's the driver. When they do good, it's the team and the car.

He's coming to the end of his patience. If he has to hear them self deprecate one more time he might actually consider making them stand in the mirror and say nice things about themselves. Can he fuck it out of them? Is that a possibility? He really doesn't know but is desperate and willing to try anything.

They both DNF at the next race. Max is a man on a mission through media and debrief. He needs to see that they are okay. At the very least not sitting through some kind of lecture a parent gives to a child.

He sprints to the Ferrari garage and runs into Carlos. Despite his injury that took him out of the season, he still comes to support his team and teammates.

"Carlos!" The Spainard spins around to face him. "Have you seen-?"

"They already left over an hour ago. Did they not text you?"

There are warning bells going off inside of his head. Something is clearly wrong and they aren't telling him about it. He's about to sprint away when Carlos stops him.

"Before you go, you should that there were some awful things said by their engineers and they looked really upset about it."

"Thanks Carlos."

Max is back at the hotel as fast as he can manage. He tried both their cells with no answer. It's killing him from the inside out with anxiety. He's probably just overthinking, but it'll feel better when he sees they are okay.

He keys the door open and doesn't bother taking off his shoes. The lights are off aside from the one in the bathroom. Maybe they decided a nice relaxing bath would do the trick. Max could also go for one. He pushes that thought aside for now.

He knocks gently on the door. "You two in there?" No response. Or at least - not one to him directly. There are a few hushed whispers, but nothing loud enough for him to hear.

He waits Aproximatley ten seconds before he can't handle it anymore and swings the door open. He expects to see fogged mirror and water on the floor. Instead he's met with the sight red wrists and thighs.

He's lost. Max Verstappen has no idea what to do.

They are stripped down to undergarments. Legs dangling over the side of tub. A switchblade in the hands of Charles. They both look teary eyed and doped out. Are they enjoying this?

God, he feels so stupid. Weeks of having Sex with no lights on, sweatshirts in hot weather, no swimming and doing private ice bathes away from trainers. He should've noticed. Max could've stopped this sooner. He wants to rewind and tell them to come to him instead of relying on this to get the through.

"Guess you caught us." Charles let's out a half assed laugh. "You gonna stare at us all night? Or can we get the yelling part over with? Last three partners left us when they caught it. I understand if it's to much. Not your burden."

Max had been a later addition. The two in the bathtub had been together since their teenage years. Had they been Coping like this for so long?

"Sorry about the mess. Relapses are hard. We made it all season until a month ago." She leans her head onto Charles' shoulder. How can they make this type of environment endearing? This is unreal and they need serious help. Which Max will eventually get them when he can get his act together.

He kneels on the floor in between them. Max is just now registering the tears on his cheeks. They'd been in pain for so long. It hurts him just thinking about it.

"I'm not going to yell-" he looks at one. "-I'm not going to leave-" he looks at the other. "But help me understand. I want to help."

"It's easier to do with someone else around. It's more therapeutic." The lopsided smile on the female's face is not helping Max. He has to many questions.

First, he gets them cleaned up. Neither of them flinch when he disenfects the wounds. They don't look at him as he wraps them in whatever gauz is in the first aid kit. They look ashamed as he puts the knife in his bag and rinses the tub.

The one that gets him, however, is the look of pure confusion when Max hugs them both so tightly. It's like they don't know how to respond.

They sit in a circle on the bed. It's comfortable and Max can see both their expressions clearly.

"I know the struggle." He starts. "Punishing yourself is better then someone else doing it, right? But I had Daniel there reminding me to reach out."

"It's just easier this way."

"Easier isn't better. Look at the state you're in. I'm not leaving, but I am getting the both of you help."

He followed through with this the next morning. Then looked supposed to see him when they woke up. He, and his childish mind, kissed all the cuts and scars. Every single one of them received proper treatment.

The female cried and thre her arms around Max. Charles had looked away in shame. The reasons they started this are still foreign to him, but that's not his priority.

He gets them help. All of them, mind you. They do group sessions as the three of them to find healthier ways to cope with each other.

Reasons seem to fade into the background because they don't matter as much. The important thing is that Max caught it in time. That he didn't lose them to their own minds. They are partners, and Max would be devistated to lost someone he loves to those dark places.

He rests easier now that the itch has been scratched. His partners are doing better. They smile and laugh at his stupid jokes again. A bit of confidence regained.

And Max reminds them daily that nothing is worth it if you have to destroy yourself for it. Drivers or not, he loves them regardless.