#sensory fucking nightmare and I started crying

[pastafossa]

Do you think Matt would make a good dad?

THIS IS AN INTERESTING THOUGHT.

Ok, so.

On the one hand, I think a baby would be a special kind of hell for Matt. The smells. The chaotic sleep schedule. The heavy care needs when Matt is already busy as fuck between the law firm and Deviling. The sounds, oh god, the sounds. Babies crying are designed to be impossible to ignore, to hit a specific pitch that sets off every alarm bell in your head. With Matt's senses, that'd be absolute nightmare. Even happy screams are going to hit those poor eardrums of his like a gunshot. And on the emotional side, Matt's got... a lot of self-loathing and trauma he'd struggle with, along with a heaping dose of fear that his very touch might taint his child with the same darkness he struggles with every night on the streets. As a result, I don't think he would think he'd be a good father.

However.

That last bit is why I think, if he did wind up with a kid, he really would be pretty good at it. Why? Because he'd try. He'd fucking try with everything in him, and he'd do whatever it took to make it work. He's not going to run and abandon you and his kid, he's not going to tap out when things get hard (and they will), and he's not going to be a dad that says he's 'babysitting' while you're gone. When he's able to be there, he's in, 100%. He's no stranger to walking laps around the apartment at night with his baby held against his chest, the child dozing as he sings hymns or practices his opening statements, because sometimes the low, rumbling sound of his voice beneath their head seems to be the only thing that allows his child to sleep. He never hesitates to change a diaper or do the feedings. He's the dad who reads all the books with you during the pregnancy, the dad who goes with you to the parenting classes, and seeks out advice from various folks in the Nelson clan (along with Foggy who, due to being born into a massive family encompassing no less than 628 family members at last count, can give a fairly thorough lecture on the mechanics of baby care. Foggy also ensures the child is inducted into the Clan upon their birth so that the Clan can give Matt and you a break when needed).

He'll move heaven and earth to avoid fucking things up, to avoid letting Stick's abusive voice and influence come slithering out of his mouth. There will be no cruel comments about 'the devil in you' when the child is angry, not like what Matt heard from his own grandma. That stops with him, even if he has to build the dam himself by hand. His child will have all the support Matt wishes he had.

Despite his best efforts, he does make mistakes. It's true, and unavoidable, which you'd have to remind him of regularly - 'Parents are mortal, Matt.' There are moments he would miss due to being so busy, moments - especially early on - where the noise or sensory input would become too much and he'd have to retreat just a little. He'd beat himself up for it every single time, and he'd have to work through that too, this reminder that no matter how hard he tries, he'll never be perfect.

But overall, just like with Jack, any child of Matt's would grow up knowing that they're loved from start to finish, and there'd be nothing they could do that would ever change that.

[mzcain27]

Update. Tried making the rice cakes. Had a meltdown. Never doing it again

[windfighter]

There is literally NO positive sides to T-gel, I think the doctor was a fucking quack

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

@teapunks did your mum ever threaten to put mustard on your fingernails to stop you biting them? because by my count 6 different adults directly threatened me with that or mentioned it in a "in my day, they would do this so youre lucky i havent done that to you".

the direct threats came from my dad, my paternal nan and my maternal great aunt while the guilt-trip-that-always-felt-like-a-threat-to-me came from my paternal aunt, the other classes' year 4 teacher and an english teacher who wasnt even my english teacher, for anyone curious.

you could reblog for a bigger sample size or not who do i look like the freakin queen of england

[azureblooet]

Ok gang here’s some ideas for follower Narinder habits/symptoms

(some are also geared towards narilamb/the lamb helping him but not all of them)

// CW

A lot of them are very dissociation and trauma-y so bewarb folks.

Also general illness.

And skin picking or whatever that’s called

// CW

His sense if time is absolutely fucked

Dude has no intuitive sense of how long an hour is

Also Dissociating while waiting for anything.

Like all that time got him good at checking out to pass time

Either the habit of counting in his head or a complete aversion to doing so. (Driving himself crazy counting seconds makes counting/tallying stuff remind him of the time sealed)

Visual/general sensory sensitivity. He’s been in basically sensory deprivation for way too long. He might also not like silence for similar reasons.

Absolutely despises snow.

Cold, wet, looks like the gateway. Bad.

Very touchy about his wrists and neck specifically.

Either he immediately goes into attack mode or entirely shuts down. Like his body sees that something similar might happen and fully checks out to protect itself.

Picking at/itching his wrists.

The Lamb is like Sisyphus and that fucking rock trying to keep this mf from reopening his wounds by picking at them

Everything near his bed isn’t white.

other than lamb- i mean what who said that

Lack of visual processing

has been in the all white dimension for too long

Has aches and pain all over his wrists and body.

I deadass almost forgot to put this one because it’s so cannon to me

If you jingle a bell he turns his head every fucking time.

Yes this is from that one comic but it’s funny as shit so I’m taking it

Gets sick very easily since his immune system hasn’t done shit in ages

Also so i get to give him vivid fever nightmares for like character growth and trippy surreal horror symbolism.

Probably has a main character moment standing in the rain for the first time in ages while crying or something.

(He does get sick from of it though. I have to keep him humble somehow)

The Lamb also had this moment before after the start but whatever.

They can both cry in the rain. ✨together✨

[intertexts]

hi. one quastion. muse. and ashe. and the transition from ashe to muse. idk if yall talked about it before but ik the trickster was pretending to be ashe’s friend for a while (CRAZY. DID NORMAL THINGS TO MY BRAIN) and then Yoinked him afrer overlord and ashe reappeared again a few weeks later as muse fancy evil puppet strings and spooky letter and all. i wondered last night what happened in those weeks and im just. Haunted. What Happened. how does the trickster take control over people and does he need to be in close proximity to them is that why he had to wait so long to get ashe and when did ashe realize it was going wrong. how long did the trickster keep pretending to be his friend. did ashe ever cry into the trickster’s shoulder about the overlord bullshit. did he ever realize that shit was going down and he needed to leave but never could. was it like his breaker state where he never fully had a Realization he just kept fading away and then theres nothing to realize its just his life to be that freak’s doll. <- many questions but pretend its the one. ashe pov of ashe to muse pipeline. would he even remember it and does it also feature in nightmares

- @suckinitup

AHAHA. AWESOME QUESTION. I AM GOING TO DIRECT MOST OF THIS TO @stuck-in-the-ghost-zone because this specific time frame is their beautiful little evil fucking bowl of seeds. they will be able to answer this so awesomely for you. sniles sneetly.

the part that i will answer is saying Yes ashe remembers.... not all of it. he remembers the beginning, and he knows when the memories started getting too smeared and blurry and vague before eventually stopping entirely. oh you know it features in nightmares babey!!!!! you know he knows he got stalked for upwards of Months probably by the trickster who knew where he was almost every second of that time!! it takes. a very long time before the constant absolutely paralyzing terror that the trickster is Still Watching Him eases up in the safety of his own home & the wards house. it takes even longer than that for the paranoia at being outside and around people any of whom could be!!! Him!!!!! is manageable enough for him to u know. go out for longer than like 10 minutes without panicking messily. also i think the sensory memory of that first possession (u will see what i mean. 🧍) is seared into him & he has nightmares about it often & wakes up still feeling it and unable to shake the feeling even after he wakes up. ^__^

[abubblingcandle]

Whumptober 2024 Masterpost

All my 2024 whumptober fills in one place

Day 1 - Panic Attack - Ex-Pectations

Jamie hadn't expected everything to be perfect when he started this relationship up with Roy and Keeley at the same time. There was bound to be teething issues. But he didn't expect to fuck up the sex bit!

Day 2 - Trust Issues

Day 3 - Set Up For Failure

Day 4 - Sensory Deprivation - Lemon to a Knife Fight Ch1

Jamie feels like someone is following him. But it's probably just paranoia right? He's about to play the biggest game of his career and if they do it his dad is going to be super pissed. Jamie has all the reasons in the world to believe someone is following him when there's no one really there. But there is someone really there, and Jamie realises just too late.

Day 5 - Friendly Fire - Every Time We Touch Ch3

Jamie and Roy start to settle into what the next two weeks will be like while they are under the influence but a lack of trust between them puts the tentative peace in danger

Day 6 - Unhealthy Coping Mechanism - Lingering Influence Ch6

Jamie learns that it's ok to cry. But he feels like doing it all the time and it's embarrassing to do in front of people isn't it? But don't worry, he's got a plan

Day 7 - Magic with a Cost

Day 8 - Leave the Light On

Day 9 - "Frame me up on the wall to keep me out of trouble"

Day 10 - Passing Out From the Pain

Day 11 - "Leave no trace behind like you don't even exist" - The Richmond Job Ch3

The Crime Crew take on Rupert Mannion and Cerithium Oil on the behalf of Sam Obisanya who is getting death threats for his activism but ghosts from Roy's past threaten to derail everything

Day 12 - No Holds Barred Beatdown - There's No Place Like Home Ch1

Jamie knows what the consequences of embarrassing his dad are but London has made him soft and complacent. He's not able to deal with his dad's tough love in the way that he used to do. But that's fine because he's heading back to Manchester with his hip in a hard brace and with surgery on the cards and his dad's the only one who's stepped up to look after him. Things will go back to normal now. However if this is normal than why are Roy, Ted and Beard on his doorstep offering him a way out?

Day 13 - Multiple Whumpees

Day 14 - "Cause I want you to know what it feels like to be hunted"

Day 15 - Childhood Trauma - Have You Noticed You Are Breathing Ch8

Jamie has his first day back at the club even if it is only as Keeley's assistant before the legal war room. Keeley can't understand why Jamie doesn't care about seeing his dad behind bars but Rebecca does

Day 16 - Survivors Guilt - Never Again

It wasn't like Will planned on getting kidnapped again but he knew if it did happen he was never going to give up his team

Day 17 - Nowhere Else To Go

Day 18 - Regret - There's No Place Like Home Ch2

Richmond hasn't been the same since Jamie's injury and his return to Manchester. Roy wants to continue to hate him but Ted, Beard, and Roy find out the real details of his injury

Day 19 - "Is there anyone out there"

Day 20 - Emotional Angst - Every Time We Touch Ch4

The drug isn't the only problem facing our troubled duo. Roy's knee is playing up for the first time since this began and Ted Lasso makes an appearance

Day 21 - Spirit Possession

Day 22 - Communication Barrier - A Treatment Room Doors Moment Ch6

Roy worries about Jamie's declaration that he's going to quit football and begins to spiral. He heads to Manchester for Jamie's birthday and they air out their troubles

Day 23 - Broken Pedestal

Day 24 - Secrets Revealed

Day 25 - Being Monitored

Day 26 - Nightmares

Day 27 - Muzzled

Day 28 - Denial

Day 29 - "Who said you could rest"

Day 30 - Hospital Bed - Death Fruit

“Coach,” Dani panted, clinging onto the door frame with a white knuckled grip. He was shaking, looking like he had seen a ghost. Roy limped up to his feet and over to the door, leg screaming from the pain. “I think Jamie is dying,” he sobbed, tears suddenly streaming down his face.

Day 31 - Making Amends

[jeongyeonluvr]

can i rq a part 2 to the middle!mina and cg!nayeon?

tw: sh, this is just a thought, don’t feel like you have to add to this if it makes you uncomfortable <3

mina coming back from japan and feeling overwhelmed and anxious and needing her mama. slipping into her headspace and just feeling so angry and crying.

once misamo are home, mina runs to look for nayeon, who isn’t home, making mina more upset.

mina ends up hurting herself due to the overwhelming feelings and thoughts she’s experiencing.

when nayeon eventually comes home, she walks in on mina hurting herself and just comforts her all night long :(

open the door!

|| cg!Nayeon middle/nd!Mina

•CW: swearing, self-harm, crying, abandonment, (mina’s just hurting tbh)

“Minari… what’s wrong? You’ve not spoke a word since we got on the plane.” Sana asks a little concerned.

“Piss off, Sana.” Mina mutters, rolling her eyes truly not being in the mood to play the what’s Mina’s problem game again.

“Enough of that or I’ll tell Jeongyeon.” Momo says a bit more sternly.

“Bite me.” Mina says in a monotone voice, putting her headphones back on and blanket over herself as the flight went on.

She seriously can’t wait to get home, she’s always hated flying, everything is so overstimulating. Lights are too bright, people talk too loud, babies crying. It’s a sensory nightmare, but Momo and Sana seem to forget a lot of the time and Mina thinks they just don’t care enough to remember.

~~

“Hurry uppp, it can’t take that long to find a bag.” Mina nags as Momo is still waiting for her bag.

“I can’t help it if mines is lost!” Momo whisper shouts starting to get tired of Mina’s attitude.

“Right, right. No need to argue we’ll get the bag then go.” Sana explains trying to calm the situation, “Mina you have you’re bag, and i have mine. We only need to wait for one more then we can go, yeah?”

“Stop speaking to me like that, i’m not a baby!” Mina shouts, she hates when the girls start talking to her like she’s three years old. She’s not, she’s sixteen.

Sana’s cheeks start to go a little red and her eyes grow wide. “Okay, I’m getting you a taxi and you can go home yourself.”

“Wait no, I don’t want to be alone!” Mina shouts not wanting to get a taxi all by herself.

“Should of thought about that, huh?” Sana rolls her eyes as she grabs Mina’s hand and drags her to the exit.

Momo comes stumbling behind with her bag - it being nearly bigger than her full body. “Guys! It’s okay! I got my bag we can all go now.”

“You’re lucky.” Sana whispers in Mina’s ear being completely done with her for today.

~~

As soon as Mina stepped foot in the dorm door she was scanning everywhere for Nayeon. She couldn’t bare looking at anyone else.

“Mama! Mama!” Mina starts to shout, not noticing Jihyo in the living room on her belly, startling her a little. Her bottom lip bobs out and she starts wailing.

Mina groans at that and moves her hands to cover her ears. “Where’s my mama?!”

Jeongyeon comes rushing in at the sound of Jihyo crying and picks her up ever so gently and puts her head agenst her chest to calm her.

“Go to your room, Sana and Momo have filled me in on the way you’ve acted and it’s completely unacceptable.” Jeongyeon scolds moving her eyes from Mina to the hall way.

“No! I need my mama, Jeongyeon. Where is she?!” Mina says starting to grip her hair and tears starting to prick her eyes.

“Listen to me, Mina. Go to your room.” Jeongyeon exclaims.

“I hate everyone in this fuck ass dorm!” Mina shouts and storms to the bathroom, tears finally fall from her eyes.

~~

She wasn’t thinking straight, she knew that but it felt like that was the only thing that would calm her down.

One little sting became a lot of little stings, on her right thigh. The tears wouldn’t stop but nothing would stop, the thoughts in her head never stopped, everyone around her, everything just would stop.

Her mama’s probably left her for good, who wouldn’t? She’s such a wreck and can’t calm down once she’s in this state.

Mina was in a cloud of thoughts and didn’t even hear anything going on at the other side of the door. Not the banging, not the shouting, all she could hear was her own thoughts and they are so loud.

~~

“Mina, open the fucking door!” Nayeon screeches, shoving her body agenst the door.

“How couldn’t any of you’s realise she’s in there?” Nayeon seethes turning her eyes to Jeongyeon, Sana and Momo.

Sana avoids eye contact, Momo gulps very loudly and Jeongyeon lets out a long sigh.

“I- I told her to go to her room, I thought she did.” Jeongyeon looks to the ground very gingerly.

“You know what she’s like! I can’t belive you three let this happen.” Nayeon explains not meaning to blame everything on them but it’s easier that than blaming herself.

“Mina honey, open the door! I’m not mad, I’m worried.” Nayeon tries one more time before getting a bobby pin and picking the lock.

Once she heard the click of the lock being undone a wave of relief came over her but as soon as she opened the door and seen Mina, a pit started to form in the bottom of her stomach.

“Oh my god, baby.” Nayeon utters seeing the state Mina’s in. Hunched over, thigh covered in blood, blade lying on the tiled floor and Mina whimpering softly.

“You,” Nayeon says pointing to Momo, “Get the kids and take them to Sunmi, say it’s an emergency and stay over.”

As nayeon finished saying that, watching Momo leave to get the kids, she points to Jeongyeon. “You, get the first aid kit and then go to your room.”

Jeongyeon does a little nod and goes quickly then Nayeon points to the last one left, “And you, go get Mina the candy I bought her and sit it in my bedroom.”

Sana turns quickly and goes to do what Nayeon asks.

Nayeon slowly turned around to look at Mina, feeling her heart hurt a little at the state she’s in.

“Mina honey look at me,” Nayeon starts softly, lifting her hand up to touch Mina’s shoulder.

Mina flinches heavily and takes in a deep breath, glaring at Nayeon though her eyelashes. “Where were you?”

“I was at the convenience store, getting you a sweet treat honey. I know you’re going through a hard time.” Nayeon explains.

“You left me.” Mina sniffs in a little whisper.

“No honey, I would never, ever leave you.” Nayeon says with sad eyes leaning over to try touch Mina again.

“Don’t touch me! Go! Leave again!” Mina shouts trying to get up but ultimately slumming back down, not having much energy.

“I’m not going anywhere, I need to make sure you’re okay and evidently you’re not.” Nayeon whispers glancing over at the door and seeing Jeongyeon place down the first aid kit and walking away.

Nayeon reaches over and grabs it, but making sure it’s not in view of Mina’s vision to not scare her even more.

“Baby, I need to clean you to make sure you don’t get any infections, yeah? It’ll be just like last time, sting a little then some bandaids.” Nayeon explains lifting Mina’s chin up with her hand and wiping some tears away.

“Mama I didn’t mean too, I d-didn’t know what to do.” Mina sobs and shuffles over to Nayeon more, trying to sit in her lap.

“I know baby, I know.” Nayeon whispers in her ear, rocking back and forth softly as she strokes her hair.

Once Mina calms down a little Nayeon picks up the first aid kit, Mina glances at it and wines. She knows what comes whenever that’s bout. The stinging, the coldness.

“C’mon baby, you know the drill.” Nayeon sighs racking her fingers through Mina’s hair.

“I know, but it never gets easier mama.” Mina whimpers, shivering all over.

~~

“There we go, all done.” Nayeon sighs as she leaves the last princess bandaid on Mina’s thigh.

Mina glances to her thigh then back at at Nayeon, mascara running from her bambi eyes, cheeks red and an utterly empty expression on her face.

“I can lift you through to my room, yeah?” Nayeon says as she starts to kneel up. All mine does is let out a soft whimper and nod a little.

“Up you come.” Nayeon whispers, more to her self and starts to make her way to her bedroom. Mouthing to Sana to clean up the bathroom.

As she entered her bedroom she softly layed Mina down on her bed and quickly got her penguin plush out.

“I know you say you’re to old for him, but i think you need a friend.” Nayeon says half joking.

Mina lets out a soft giggle then reaches for Mr. penguin.

Nayeon quickly grabbed the candy bar and made her way over to her side of the bed.

“Mina, when you feel like this and i’m not home, you need to phone me. I would never leave you, honey.” Nayeon says a bit more seriously.

Mina looks down almost shamefully, “I’m sorry mama, I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Hey, you wouldn’t of hurt anyone, it’s not your fault you just didn’t know what to do.” Nayeon says gently lifting Mina’s chin up with her finger.

“Look I got you a little something to maybe cheer you up.” Nayeon passes the bar of candy to Mina.

Mina’s face brightened up a little at that, opening the chocolate and taking a small bite.

“Thank you mama, I love you.” Mina sighs, a bit relieved to have a bit of chocolate.

“I love you too, kid.” Nayeon smiles turning over to grab the remote for the tv and starts scanning through netflix with Mina tucked under her arm.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 - 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒳𝒱𝐼: 𝒞𝒶𝓈𝓉𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝒾𝓇 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you again to @evren-sadwrn for the beta read!

TW: nightmare, crying, John and Vincent arguing even worse than usual thoughts of violence, grief

Author's Note: There's a huge block of French at one point and it is, as usual, from Google Translate. Feel free to let me know if there are errors!

Summary: The journey towards The Elder begins. John and Vincent are stuck together on a long, long flight, with too much time for brooding about the future.

Vincent was standing over a ravine.

All around, the world tumbled with a moving darkness, a whirlwind of nighttime blizzard that drowned out the light of any moon or stars. He felt some terrible lurch inside himself and leaned forward, to watch his heart pour out of his chest, whole and horrifically drenched in blood. He watched helplessly as it tumbled down into the vast, invisible darkness.

But for some reason, it did not horrify him. He felt, within himself, that it continued beating, that it did not make impact on the rocks below, but instead must be soaring as some surreal bird throbbing with crimson flesh, immune to the perils of the fall. And so he continued walking slowly, trancelike, down the length of that ravine, flooded with a strange happiness…

It was blearily early when Vincent was awoken with a kiss. And it was good that he was, because any other manner of awakening would have allowed the claws of unmerciful consciousness to sink too quickly into him. As it was, a jolt of remembered misery sunk deep into the pit of his chest, making him turn his face into the pillow in protest against the lamp as it switched on.

His whole body was sore, a minefield of injuries with almost nowhere that he could safely put pressure without causing pain. His mind felt the same way. Don’t think about Chidi. Don’t think about the plan. Don’t think about the home you’ve lost. Don’t think about what could happen today. John was the only safe place to rest his mind, and his voice was the only safe sensory input. “Let’s get up,” he said, beautiful and rich and gravelly with sleep. “I’m sorry. We have to go.”

“What time is it?”

“Five AM.”

“Oh, tu plaisantes. Va te faire foutre. [Oh, you have to be kidding. Fuck off.]”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. The Marquis sighed, and pushed himself upright. John was standing over him, already dressed. At least he looked good. They’d executed Vincent’s suit design exceptionally, given the time frame. “They dropped these off a while ago.”

He brightened a little after seeing his own suit laid out on the other bed. He attempted to get to his feet, nearly buckled, and found John’s arms around his waist from behind. “Easy. I’ll bring it to you.”

“John, how exactly am I supposed to climb a mountain today?”

“You’re not. We climb a mountain tomorrow. The flight has gotta be at least 18 hours.”

He groaned. Don’t think about that either. Think about John. Think about last night… John was buttoning his new shirt with sure and gentle fingers that set his heart racing as they brushed close to his chest. But he was still in a mood. “This will be wrinkled by the time we get there,” he complained.

John paused. “I didn’t consider that. I just assume mine will be…disposable. Let’s put you in that T-shirt again.” Vincent felt momentarily like a little doll as John started unbuttoning the shirt as quickly as he’d buttoned it, ever ready to please.

Vincent caught his hands in place before he could get any further. He tsked at John’s overeagerness. “No, I’ll keep the shirt and just leave the vest and coat for later. I prefer to be in formal clothes today.” Despite the confidence of his words, he couldn’t meet John’s eyes. He needed all possible courage for the flight, especially if he’d have to face more of Belle’s associates. God, the episode in the food court…by now they must all know…don’t think about it, don’t think about it…

“Formal clothes it is, then.” John caught that look and tilted up his chin. For a second, he felt pinned by those dark eyes and was expecting some overly gentle remark that would just make him feel worse. But instead, John just left his head tilted up, as if he’d adjusted it into the proper position the way one might tuck in a strand of hair. And then he continued dressing him without missing a beat.

The feeling of John’s powerful hands sliding the slacks up over his thighs was matched only by his fingers pressing the button through its slit while gazing straight at his lips. He rode a surge of lust for a moment before coming back to himself.

Another crash of full body pain hit him as the pleasure withdrew. “The painkillers from yesterday have worn off. Let’s get more before leaving.”

John eyed him with a depth of concern that made dead things bloom inside him. “Alright.” Thank god.

After collecting another dose, they left Dog in the Mall’s capable care and proceeded to the carousel, escorted by a guard with a key. An access door brought them out of the mall’s gaudy, colorful interior into the sobering darkness of a tunnel lined in flagstone. Vincent’s nerves began buzzing as they were led through a labyrinth of lifts and conveyor belts, finally emerging from a manhole onto the tarmac of the Newark Liberty International Airport. The early light was dimmed and fuzzy, spreading in purples over a dreary, overcast sky. It was raining – not enough to muss his hair, thank goodness, but in tiny, fitful droplets that filled the open space exposed to the airport’s picture windows in the distance.

“Move quickly,” John whispered. It did nothing to calm him. His heart was going haywire all the way from the manhole to the steps of the private plane. He nearly tripped as they climbed up the boarding stairs, and was grateful that John’s hand shot to his waist, steadying him instantly.

But the Bowery knew what they were doing. It was a distance of only a few paces, and they boarded without incident. They were the only passengers, aside from the pilot and flight attendant, who would take them clear from New Jersey to Pakistan, with a stop for refueling on the way. Only once they were airborne did Vincent give the name of their destination. The pilot whistled, and said he’d get them to the closest airport where they’d have to transfer to a helicopter that would take them closer.

Vincent settled in on quilted leather across from John, with a small table between them, and fussed over the raindrops that had touched his sleeves. They were in luxurious seats, such as he was used to. They were on their way to see the Elder. Everything was good. Why did he feel such a clawing angst inside him? He forced his hands to drop into his lap and rested against the window as the plane began to climb, up through a ripple of turbulence and then clear above a sea of grey, where the sun bled through in rays of gold.

“We’re on our way,” John remarked. His voice was flat but by now, Vincent could tell when he was trying to cheer him up.

“You’re staring,” he said coldly.

“I like your suit. Even when you’re not wearing all of it.”

He couldn’t help smiling. “…I like yours. Especially when you’re not wearing any of it.”

John was too pleased to respond and didn’t seem to know how to arrange his face. Maybe this flight wouldn’t be so bad. In fact, it might even be too short. “We should use this time to plan.”

“Aren’t we just going to threaten him? What is there to plan?”

“A threat is a carefully crafted structure. It has parts, John: the demand, the proposed consequences, the proof of capability to follow through, and the anticipation of responses.” He counted them off on his fingers. “Don’t tell me you went to the Elder without talking points in mind?”

John shrugged.

“Well, I find it’s wise to be a little more organized.”

“Did you do this before coming to me?”

“Yes,” he said, smug. “As you can see, it’s quite effective.”

“…Right.”

Vincent rang for the flight attendant and requested a notebook. For the next several hours, he occupied himself with running through scenarios in his head and jotting down conversation flowcharts as the sky brightened. This gradually devolved into drawing the shapes of the clouds, the infinitely complex spires and monuments and palaces of a shining royal city that stretched horizon to horizon like a marble tabletop. There were the sprawling rose gardens, the new coliseum, the barracks, the pleasure domes. The royal tomb. The sun presided as an immovable, solitary star above his kingdom. His kingdom, the High Table. His kingdom, that had killed Chidi…that had almost killed John.

Such is the way of things, he told himself. He had never balked at losing a Myrmadon before.

He looked up at John, who had fallen asleep across from him, and suddenly wished he were awake. But then, he was easier to draw this way. Soon enough, John’s face slumbered next to his castle in the air.

He hid the drawing before John woke up for the lunch service.

“Did you finish your talking points?”

“All but the rebuttals.” Ah yes…it was that point at which he started to daydream. He couldn’t quite imagine what to do if the Elder flat out refused them.

“I still don’t see why we need a rebuttal. He says no, we kill him.”

“And with him, all chance of reinstatement. I grow tired of your obstinance, John.” But his words lacked their usual sharpness.

“Please.” The gravity of his tone stopped Vincent seconds away from a mediocre bite of steak. “This may be our final chance to have this conversation. Please don’t make me kill you.”

Now it was time for sharpness. He set down his fork in silence, dabbed at his mouth unnecessarily, and set down the napkin too. “Comment oses-tu putain. [How fucking dare you.]”

John opened his mouth but he was too quick.

“Non, tu m'écoutes. Après tout ce que j'ai enduré pour toi, après chaque tentative de te plier à ta putain de volonté manipulatrice, tu me dis que tu veux ma mort si je n'obéis pas exactement à tes ordres. Tu fais semblant de te soucier de moi. « Inconditionnellement », avez-vous dit. Se féliciter d'avoir supporté l'insupportable marquis de Gramont. Oh, comme c'est inconditionnel ! Inconditionnel tant que je vis comme tu veux que je vive, déracine toute ma vie pour être qui tu veux que je sois. Comment suis-je censé concilier cela ? Je vais vous dire comment : je ne peux pas, parce que c’est l’œuvre d’un hypocrite. Vous êtes un ÉCHEC en tant qu’amant. Vous êtes un raté et un hypocrite. [No, you listen to me. After everything I went through for you, after every attempt to bend to your manipulative fucking will, you tell me you want me dead if I don’t do your exact bidding. You pretend to care about me. ‘Unconditionally,’ you said. Patting yourself on the back for putting up with the insufferable Marquis de Gramont. Oh, how unconditional! Unconditional as long as I live as you want me to live, uproot my entire life to be who you want me to be. How am I supposed to reconcile that? I’ll tell you how: I can’t, because it’s the work of a hypocrite. You are a FAILURE as a lover. You are a failure and a hypocrite.]”

“Tu me demandes de te laisser tuer mes amis. [You’re asking me to let you kill my friends.]”

“Ne suis-je pas ton ami!? [Am I not your friend!?]” He was almost screaming, with tears in his eyes and probably audible to the pilot up front, but there was nothing he could do to stop himself.

“Bien sûr que tu n'es qu'un dieu, Vincent, écoute-toi! [Of course you are but Jesus Christ, Vincent, listen to yourself!]”

He laughed bitterly. “Je te DÉTESTE, Wick ! Tu me fais me sentir à l'abri du jugement, juste pour me moraliser jusqu'à la mort. J'aurais aimé ne jamais t'avoir rencontré. [I HATE you, Wick! You make me feel safe from judgement, just to fucking moralize me straight to death. I wish I’d never met you.]” He regretted these last words instantly, not for their vitriol, but for their admission of vulnerability. His cheeks were burning. He sunk back into the seat and hid his face in his hands.

Silence rang through the cabin around them. “Je vais te donner… un peu d'espace. [I will give you…some space.]” John sounded hoarse. When Vincent pulled his hands away, he was gone, off into the far end of the plane. He did not come back as the day wore on. Not as the water shimmered below them like cold, metallic sheet of beaten silver. Not over Greece. Not over Iraq. Caged in isolation, Vincent’s mind wrecked itself against the bars. Of course John couldn’t be trusted. His mistake was trusting in the first place. No one alive or dead could have ever really cared for him, he had to remember that. Everyone in the world, from top to bottom, cared only for their own glorification. Everyone desired to bend the world under their own dominion, and to make another fall in love with you was just a means to that end. He shook for a very long time, stroking the surface of his High Table ring. Every second seemed unendurable, exhausted but too high-strung to even consider sleep, reeling from one panic attack to the next as the hours passed and the painkillers tapered away. His chest was filled with an emptiness that he wanted only to chase out with a high.

His gut, meanwhile, churned with conflict. He brooded, imagining things he would do to John, but it was useless. It relieved none of his misery, because every imagined satisfaction was tainted with uncertainty, with the secret wish to do the opposite. Was it so unreasonable that John wanted him to turn on the people who had taken so much from both of them? No, it was, it was unreasonable, if it came at the cost of his life. But maybe he’d rather kill The Elder, who was having him hunted. No, no, he’d rather kill John who had betrayed him personally. He felt broken, not just in the sense of being miserable, but in the sense of being divided into two pieces, each flying off in a different direction.

Only by destroying a real object did he grow any calmer. The notebook, with his drawing of John and his drawing of the High Table, formed a shredded pile around him.

All that while, they rode East, into an early, fleeting night followed by morning. When they began to circle the airport, the sun was already shining again, as if the flight was all one interminable day. A voice crackled over the intercom. “Hello folks, we’ll be landing shortly. Just a few matters of business to sort out. Would our two most chipper and cheerful passengers come to the cockpit please?”

This could not be good, but there was nothing for it. He made his way to the cockpit, his limbs stiff from hours of sitting tensed in an adrenaline addled stupor, to see the pilot and flight attendant seated side by side. He bristled as John moved past him to stand at his left. Vincent refused even to look in his direction. When they both felt sufficiently awkward, the pilot spoke. “I’m told you requested Diamox.”

“We did,” said John. It hurt even to hear him speak. Vincent had no idea what that was but wasn’t about to ask John at the moment – all he remembered was John asking for it from the doctor. “Do you have it?”

“We have altitude medication. It’s stronger than Diamox, and fast acting. And a good job you asked for it, because you’ll get sick as hell without it. You’re going to 15,000 ft. But.” A nasty, wicked kind of grin spread over his face. “There’s only one dose.” The flight attendant held up a single pill, grinning too.

“What!?” Vincent had well and truly had it with this day. “That was not our agreement.”

“That’s just too bad, Marquis. Beggers can’t be choosers.”

John made a hateful, inarticulate noise in his throat. “Fine. Vincent, take it. You’re already injured.”

“Ah-ah-ah!” The flight attendant snatched the pill back as Vincent reached for it. “We have instructions from the Belle of the Bowery. Mr. Wick gets the antidote. The Marquis gets nothing.”

Vincent’s heart sunk. She had found a way to kill him, even from another continent. If the altitude on its own didn’t take his life, he would be weakened for the fight.

John stepped forward, furious. “He could die. She promised me he lives.”

“I have my orders. I do not land this plane until Mr. Wick has swallowed that pill. And you can’t kill me, because neither of you can set her down on your own. Take the pill, Wick. Or I turn us around and go back.”

John hesitated, but finally grabbed the pill and swallowed it dry as Vincent watched in horror. He wasn’t aware his heart could break any further, but it did. He’s really letting me die.

The plane began to descend towards the airport in a long half circle that felt like freefall. Vincent clutched at the doorway, sickened and terrified, too drained to truly panic again, but numb. His face was frozen into an emotionless porcelain mask, rendered pointless by the wild eyes staring out of it. After a time, he realized John was speaking to him.

“Vous ne mourrez pas. Vous ne le ferez pas. Je m'en assurerai. [You won’t die. You won’t. I’ll make sure of it.]”

“Non, non, pas jusqu'à ce que tu me tues, bien sûr que non [No, no, not until you kill me, of course not] hahahahahaha...”

“Non, vous n’allez pas mourir. Regardez-moi. [No. You are not going to die. Look at me.]”

Though he didn’t turn his head, his eyes seemed to move against his will, finding John’s. They were burning into him with that commanding softness that said, “I could crush the sorrow out of you with a single touch.” The look from last night, when he swore to take control. John spoke to him as if they were the only two people in the room. “Vincent. Fais-moi confiance. [Vincent. Trust me.]”

And to the devil with this man, but it worked. Something bruised and battered but alive inside him responded. He hated himself every second, but he trusted, repeating the same mistake over again, living in hope for a moment longer. And when John took his face by the jaw and tilted their lips towards each other, he closed the distance.

The pilot swore in disgust.

He felt a pill press into his tongue.

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

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[smol-tired-binch-blog]

[kicks door down]

Autistic Nishiki whose special interest is fashion and not only considers what's trendy but also looks out for fabrics that aren't a sensory nightmare, however sometimes he will force himself to wear something that isn't comfy for appearance's sake, which leaves him more vulnerable to getting overwhelmed and therefore 'emotional' Also means he has his collar popped like Kiryu's for sensory reasons too and slutty reasons, which would once again make me correct in saying if he undid his collar in Kiwami he'd be normal again because if I were constantly experiencing sensory discomfort I too would be fucked up and evil.

Cause like here's the thing, autistic Kiryu and Majima headcanons are more obvious (especially the former), whereas Nishiki probably comes off as the most 'normal'; he can likely maintain eye contact and talk to people 'normally' and not like, go off on some random tangent about a special interest or hyperfixation. And then you remember masking is a thing.

And okay, so I actually think it's unfair a lot of fandom considers him a 'crybaby' right, cause he's cried in situations MOST PEOPLE WOULD RIGHTFULLY CRY OVER! BUT, I can use this to my Autistic Advantage and have this be he actually struggles to regulate his emotions, and considering he's been exposed to the yakuza world since a young age where ANY emotion that isn't 'respectable stoicism' or 'righteous fury and indignation', he's seen as even MORE overly emotional. Hence the need to start masking so early, PLUS having to protect Kiryu who couldn't mask if his life depended on it because he doesn't realise he may HAVE to (speaking from personal experience, Kiryu definitely went his whole life unaware there was anything ""wrong"" with him (for lack of a better word) and had people just like "oh yeah he's just Like That dw bout it" and went on with his life), so Nishiki takes up the mantle of I'm The One Who Knows What We're Doing Lad's desperate to gain acceptance and will change whatever he has to but people still somehow pick up that Something's Off About Him and so they tend to be disdainful or brush him off. It's easy charisma that can win over hostesses and brief encounters with civillians but can't carry across in the yakuza. Kiwami is him trying his DAMNDEST to act neurotypical even at the cost of his own comfort, and the worst part is it's not working

[thatblondeperson]

Car Trouble Nightmare, Help Needed!

More details of one of the worst days I've had in a long time that will not end, under the cut. I really do need help, I feel like I'm going to cry.

On Wednesday 7/3 I went to San Jose for a friend's going away party. Party had been canceled and I was not informed, which honestly is whatever at this point. I went in to the bar anyway, had a glass of wine that someone bought for me out of pity, made new friends, sand some karaoke and started to drive home. There was a 5 car pile up on the highway that had people dead stopped, and after sitting in that for far too long, people were detouring and I followed. Got very lost. Started trying to follow signs that said "north". Finally got back on track and my car started overheating like crazy. Took the next exit and parked. Car was smoking. At this point, the sun was rising and I was exhausted. The lady who's house I was in front of let me charge my phone and she brought me ice water. I called AAA to row my car but our plan only covers 5 miles of free towing. It would be $1000 at least. Called my mom crying. She came to rescue me. While waiting a guy tried to offer help and then got weird about how cute my small feet were. Finally mom got there and we decided to tow to the nearest AAA repair place. Car would be stranded in San Leandro which is an hour and a half from home. But it got worse.

We got on the road. Stopped at taco bell so I could get some food in my system. Was okay for a bit but the sleep and food deprivation kicked in and my body started shutting down bit by bit. Heartburn came, headache, mood swings, and nausea. Mom also wasn't listening to me with the map and took a detour that she said she knew, then blamed the detour on me when it didn't work out and wouldn't drop it. Basically heckled me about it. Treated me like I was being a baby the whole way home while I was in pain, and only realized I was serious when I started having an autistic meltdown and the tics kicked in. Made it almost home in this awful state before I had to stop at Lowe's hardware store because I felt so sick. IBS had kicked in, and when I came back to the car, the taco bell promptly exited my body via throwing up profusely. It was enough to get me home but I still felt awful. Tried to clean off in the shower a bit which helped somewhat and then tried to lay down, but my body felt so uncomfortable. I was still habing an autistic sensory meltdown, but then I suddenly got really bad, and it felt like my blood was boiling and my hands were going numb. Called 911, paramedics cane and made sure I was okay, and thankfully it was just a wicked panic attack, but it took me like 36 hours to recover from that shit. Stayed at my mom's for a bit, and then on Saturday we went back to San Leandro, because I had jumped onto my dad's plan since he had 200 miles of free towing.

Soooooooo...AAAs policy is that the point of roadside assist is that they need to tow it to a repair shop. It's already at one, so they can't send a truck to pick it up just because. The only reason they can do that is if the repair place can't fix it. We'd have the free tow back home at that point but right now we're fucked. Car is stuck in San Leandro for the time being at the repair shop and since it's AAA, it'll be expensive. We wanted to go to our guy back home.

I went back today and they said it was fixed, the bill was over $1000 with the "just look at it" and "repair" fees combined, and I hoped that would be it.

Nope.

Car started overheating just 10 minutes into the drive home, and I had to turn the AC off just to get through the drive. Coolant tank is still bubbling, the engine smells burnt, and I am exhausted and wanting to scream. My car is my lifeline, I can't be without it and I can't afford a new one right now. I just need to get my car to someone more reliable, and hopefully things can actually get fixed. It may be more than what I'm asking for, but I just need a smidgen of help. Anything will help, I'm just so tired and so stressed and my body cannot handle another panic attack tbh.

[dawn-lovelace]

Empathy fucking sucks

CW: Description of sensory overload, slight gore Also Dawn uses all pronouns <3

"WAS IT YOU!? WERE YOU THE ONE THAT STARTED THIS!?" Dawn heard Marjorie yell at Claire.

Dawn had no idea what exactly they were arguing about, but that didn't matter. The damage had already been done.

Marjorie stormed off with her brother CJ close behind. Dawn didn't want to get involved. They had overheard something about the second Titan war, and that was never a good topic of discussion around camp.

There was no winning in that argument. No way to fix what had been said. And the thought of it made their chest hurt. They played it off though, thinking the tight pain was just because they had worn their binder too long.

It wasn't their binder.

They had made their way back to cabin 7 to change into something more comfortable. The pain persisted, no, increased. It was like they were hit with a tidal wave of guilt.

Guilt flooded their senses. Their heart beat hard against their ribs. They could feel everything. Every fiber in their clothing. Every hair on their body. The weight of their eyelids. The roaring of blood in their ears was deafening. Even their own breathing was too loud.

They sat on their bed, trying to find some solace from the sensory nightmare that they were in. But nothing helped. They had absorbed Marjoire's anguish and now had to deal with it.

Dawn closed her eyes as thousands of thoughts rushed through his head.

Should I go after her?

I should have done more to help.

I can't take this.

Fuck! Why couldn't I have just stopped the war before it even happened

Fuck Dawn You're so selfish for not fixing everyone's problems!

I'm so pathetic! Fucking taken down by someone else's emotions!

They felt tears running down their face as they sat in the darkness under the blanket. The darkness slowly faded as their freckles and scars started to glow.

Great They thought.

Dawn was drowning in emotion. Some hers, some not. When it gets to this point, it's hard to tell the difference between her emotions and someone else's. They all just blend together. Muddled like looking at a Monet up close; only able to make out the different shapes from afar.

But as it stands now, it was impossible for Dawn to look at the whole painting. They were forced to stare at each paint stroke. Trying to differentiate between the array of colors and feelings.

They stood. His hands were shaking. Anger and guilt flowed through her veins like electricity. It crackled and buzzed under their skin, waiting to be released.

Dawn walked over to the bathroom of the Apollo cabin. Their shaking hands grasped the sink like a lifeline. She was definitely crying now. Full-blown sobs and tears ran down his face.

She looked up at the face staring at her in the mirror. It wasn't them. They saw a small child staring back at them, long brown hair braided with silver. Tears ran down her freckled face, and a giant gash across her neck. Her silver jacket was stained crimson with blood. Her luminous green eyes filled with fear and sadness.

Dawn hit her.

The mirror shattered and glass went everywhere. Dawn looked down at the blood dripping in the sink. It was only then that they realized that they were bleeding. There were small bits of glass sticking out of her red and bloody knuckles.

They turned on the faucet and quickly dressed their wound, and sighed.

Dawn knew that hitting stuff wasn't the best way to deal with emotions, but gods was it effective.

I'll think of a better way to deal with this later. They thought.

Their head quickly turned as they heard a knock on the bathroom door.

"Dawn? Are you in there? You're gonna miss dinner" Dawn's brother Will said.

"Yeah! Sorry, be right there!" She hollered back.

She ran their unbandaged hand through their hair, wiped away their tears, and joined their brother for dinner.

@cabin-12-resident-daddy-issues @likeapriceless-wine @dionysus-god-of-all-things-wine

[confessions-official]

I am so uncomfy with babies. Those ugly things are a sensory nightmare! No, i dont want to hold your new spawn. No, i do not think they're adorable stop showing me pictures of them.

My friend more often than not sends reaction gifs of babies and everytime i get the visceral ick of fuck get that away from me. Especially the ones that start crying

Unfortunately i have no idea how to mention this. How am i suppose to say i am repulsed by babies?

 

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hello hello lovely! Hope you are doing well. Saw that you were asking for some requests so i thought i would stop by and send mine in. Could we get some Joel miller Fluff please?

Surprise

"Do you have the paper cutouts?", you turned back to Joel whose face you could hardly see through the heaps of boxes in his hands. Ellie's birthday was tomorrow and you had spent almost a month planning it now. Well, that was a lie. You had started planning it the moment she had told you when her birthday was. You three were still in the middle of the woods back then. She was lying by your side, anxiously playing with your fingers the more that the darkness thickened around you.

"So, are you winter or spring baby?", you asked her out of the blue simply wanting to take her mind off all the nagging thoughts clouding her mind. She let out a sigh, "Nether. I was born in summer, I think at least". A part of you hated that you even brought it up considering how Ellie's mom had died and that she never truly experienced that parental warmth. "Well, that explains why you are such a little bubble", you tickled her side playfully, making a light smile flash across her lips, "Our sunshine, huh?", you continued to attack her sides until Ellie finally broke into giggles.

"Joel", you asked him again since he didn't answer, "Yep, got it, got it", he breathed out with a huff. Take careful steps to not fall and drop everything. "Do you need a hand?", you ask him, "No", no he states. "You sure?", "Yeah, you just think about decorating it all, I wasn't built for that stuff", he let out a laugh and you nodded even if he couldn't see you.

Your first plan was to get everyone in Jackson involved. Host the whole thing in the eating hall. Have people sing Ellie Happy Birthday. Have heaps of different food, music, her classmates, and all but Joel quickly shook his head when you told him. A sensory overload he had said. And quite frankly he was right.

Ellie found it hard to adjust to the life in Jackson. Oddly enough she was more scared here than when you were making your way from the QZ. Flinches. Nightmares. She had started to become a shell of what she was. Tight smile. Zoning out. It broke your heart and you knew that it broke Joel's too, he just didn't show it so easily. You had lost count of how many nights you spent crying because you couldn't get her to eat, to speak, to do anything.

"We're a family us three", Joel brushed the tears from your cheeks, pressing you closer to him as he tried to soothe your cries. "We went through deeper shit. One step at a time we will get her back", You had nodded at that. Clasping Joel's hand tightly.

So small party it had to be. Even if she was doing better. Dina was the one who cracked the ice the most in your opinion. You and Ellie had been walking home from the little bakery and Dina had jogged up to you both to hand Ellie some of the school papers. That was the first time you saw a tiny flicker in her eyes. Even if she still crawled into your bed at night and held your hand in the big crowd, looking at Dina somehow made her look so much more alive. She reminded you of you. Of how you looked at Joel.

"What's this...", your head shot up. You cursed under your breath quickly as you saw Ellie standing in the doorway. "Oh am... I.. this", you stuttered. She felt so stupid for not thinking that she might jog home earlier. "It's your birthday tomorrow, girl", Joel said, standing up to crack his back. "Was supposed to be a surprise", you huffed, shooting Ellie a sad look. "Is that a fucking rocket?", Ellie quickly stepped into the living room. "Language", Joel warned her. But she was too busy tracing her fingers over the cutout of a rocket you had made.

"Drew this for you", you mumbled. Ellie quickly turned to you, "You... you did that?", you nodded, "For me?", you nodded once more. You saw her looking you both over for a second before she bit her lip, rushing to hug you. You met her halfway. You felt every little cry that slipped past her lips. Joel too stepped closer. He pushed his hand up and down her back. Leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. "We're real bad at being sneaky", he let out a deep chuckle. You only nodded your head, "How we survived in that forest is beyond me". Joel shook his head. Ellie pulled away from you slightly, "Does this mean we get to eat the cake tonight?", she asked. "No", "Yes", you and Joel said at the same time. "Joel...", you said in a warning tone. "Ellie if you run, I'll cover for you".

[disneyanddisneyships]

@gyubby99 aponi angst things that I've just decided.

Warnings: mentions of r*pe, s3x, physical touch, suicide

• if you touch her neck she freaks the fuck out. She has been held down, choked, strangled, and punched there. It's the most sensitive part in her body.

• sneak up behind her and she panics. She's been assaulted multiple times and she feels vulnerable there. (Which is why she likes her butterfly wings in her demon form. She feels safer*

• she has thoughts of self harm and suicide multiple times a day. They're like echos in her head that won't go away ever.

• she's scared of sex cause she thinks it's gonna hurt even though shes done it lots of times in hell since she died. She still remembers the burning. (And holy shit does it burn.... lemme tell ya lolz)

• she's so God damn tired...... she has insomnia due to nightmares and most times she doesn't sleep. She functions on coffee.

• has attempted "suicide" again by standing out in the open during extermination day.

• when she woke up in hell, the first night, she attempted an overdose... it failed for obvious reasons.

• constantly has panic attacks when she's alone. Certain smells, textures, and feelings freak her out to the point where she's in the corner of her room, unable to breath. But then the next day she acts like everything was fine.

• has body dismorphia because of her demon form. The mark around her next makes her anxious. She hates the way she can practically see her ribs given how skinny and white She is. The permanent scar on her eye makes her feel ugly and it reminds her of her traumatic past. Her now wider thighs make her feel fat, and her feet just remind her that she's in hell and a demon.

• she lost her faith in God when she died and ended up in hell.

• has sensory overload. If too many things are happening at once she starts to cry her eyes out trying to do everything. But she doesn't accept help.

• when she knows no one will hear her she Let's out the most blood curdling screams of agony.

• whe she hears Mal have sex thru the wall she gets flashbacks of her assault. (She'd never tell Mal ofc)

• when she an alastor have sex during orcober, she constantly has flashbacks, but she sucks it up for him and trues so hard to push those memories down. (She doesn't tell Alastor).... the only time she didn't get flashbacks was that one smut fic I wrote where he ate her out.

• sometimes she looks into a crowd of people and thinks she sees Jason.. she has to go to the bathroom to calm herself down so she doesn't have an episode in front of people.

• the topic if sex is very uncomfortable for her if she is not tlaking to someone she trusts with that topic. (Ergo, Mal, Alastor, angel etc.)

[devourhcpe]

@hcsuffered | Liked For a Starter

′ ▁▁▁▁ WAKEY, WAKEY ALLISON! ‵

A soft groan spilled past pink lips, barely able to make more then a cracked whimper. Due to her dry , parched throat, something that she had caused from the never ending nightmare that kept interrupting her , usual sleepless nights. That shrilly, horrific voice whispered loudly inside her head, causing half lidded eyes to flutter open. The illuminated clock on the nightstand reading, 3:15 am. Confused green hues stared at the endless dark, that bled from one corner of her room to, the other. Visions of something moved slightly, in and out of focus.

Causing her to raise up onto her elbows, blinking back the morning tears from her eyes. Why was she awake? It wasn't because of the nightmare this time! No, it was some other reason, something she couldn't quite remember. Manicured fingers grabbed the covers, flinging them back from her body. As the cool air brushed along her skin, leaving goosebumps in there wake. The fog of sleep was starting to dissipate from her now, as she swung her feet to the cold wood floor below. Arms folded across her small frame, as she made her way into the bathroom. And for a moment, she had forgot she was tormented by a Demon that would never leave her.

At least until she flickered on the bathroom lights, and the vision of a black mass appeared behind her in the Mirror. And that shrieky voice turned deep, as it slithered in and out of her mind. And the sound of white noise once again returned, causing her to cry out in frustration. The sight of the horrific mass behind her caused her to scream, as tears fell from her eyes, stinging her cheeks as they rolled down. The voices, so many dark, demonic voices plagued her thoughts. And she heard the one, the one that had her in it's grasp. Whispering louder over the others.

′ Find Him, Do it, Find Him and let me have a taste, ALLISON! ‵

Allison slammed her hands against the porcelain, feeling the stinging effects immediately wash over her joints. She screamed in both, fatigue, and , anger. ❝ No, I don't know who you are talking about, but FUCK YOU. I won't do it. ❞ But the voices only continued, getting louder and more intense as the static became to much for any sane person to handle.

Anger washed over her as she flung out her hands, knocking the contents on the sink, to go tumbling to the tile below. Her cries ripped from her throat, as she slammed the door to the bathroom open, sending it crashing into the wall. She didn't know who the demon wanted her to hurt now, but she wasn't going to do it. If she had to strap herself to the bed with handcuffs, she wasn't leaving her home.

′ __________ MARK HEATHCLIFF, Allison. ‵

The screeching, howling, and what was that sound mixed in with the voices. It sounded horrifying, could it be Hell! She wasn't sure, but they were repeating his name inside her head, with no breaks in between. And the continuation of the sounds was giving her SENSORY OVERLOAD.

❝ FINE, I'' GO FIND HIM. Just please, stop, give me a moment to breath. ❞

She had caved, again. Giving the Demon what it wanted, what they wanted. Her eyes were swollen and red from the tears, as she headed toward the door. Keys and purse barely in hand. She was broken, dead inside. She had no life, no friends, and noone to help her. Excpet Her Brother and she was not going to drag him into this. She just would do as it wanted, time after time. And this time, as always she let it guide her to Mark.