#they be having a derealization moment

[halfdent]

◖ @divingdownthehole / 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒 :  "Sit down before you fall down.

⚖  ― blood, blood, gallons of the stuff ! 彡

They  are  displaced  .  They  don't  know  right  this  second  who  is  in  the  forefront  of  their  mind  ,  breath  tight  .  Their  ribs  feel  full  of  fluid  ,  it  was  just  a  sensation  ,  though  it  constricted  their  chest  nonetheless  .  Panic .

Their  body  heavy  while  they  seem  to  be  out  of  bounds  and  out  of  their  body  .  Soon  came  a  voice  .  Sit  down  .

Can  they  sit  ?  Would  their  body  allow  for  that  ?  They  willed  it  anyway  ,  breathing  in  ,  air  trying  to  join  the  mugginess  of  their  lungs  .

❝  What  ?  -  Who  .  ❞  Vision  abstracts  until  it  doesn't  ,  it  settles  ,  focusing  on  the  figure  in  front  of  them  .  ❝  You  .  ❞  It  yields  no  malice  ,  no  their  words  are  escaping  their  split  lips  ,  though  not  quite  registering  to  their  own  ears  .  ...  Jervis  Tetch  .  That's  who  this  is  .  They  look  to  their  hands  ,  squeezing  them  tight  .

[mango-peach-strawberry]

Carrying a body that’s not your own

[unorcadox]

i am poison in the water

[arolesbianism]

I wanna take a crack at making some fake screenshot graphics for my Sif Odile duo loopers au but I do not feel confident enough in my ability to mimic isat's art style and I also have a crippling fear of drawing backgrounds

[stargiirl27]

was laying in bed with my cat and started crying because she and I both have names that were given to us by the women who loved us the most

[grymmoires]

I think whatever cocktail of drugs kamala harris is on would fix me

[quietstime]

🚪

[jrueships]

if gup gets shopped out im gonna be so pissed yall

[gourde]

Oh yeah I pirated Inside Out 2 and it's a good movie. But also I'm a huge sap for the idea that there's little guys in your head who love you for who you are which makes me ummmmm super sobby which is kinda dumb but whatever. Like wow even after all the horrid shit I've done... there's some guys who are like "That doesn't define you... show with actions not words that you are a better person now. Recovery isn't linear" and I'm like wow you're so right people in my head.... thank you for loving me.... anyways

[thebibliosphere]

You ever say something and people’s reactions completely recontextualize something you’ve been forced to internalize as “normal” because you don’t have any other choice?

Tonight I logged into the Discord after 17 hours of a migraine from hell and mentioned that my migraine made me throw up so badly my neck subluxated and my collarbone popped out of place with it.

(They’re back in place before anyone yells at me to go to the hospital)

The reaction was the equivalent of the fallout meme: Nobody Liked That.

And that’s when my still slightly derealized ass had a moment of, oh. My daily existence is a medical emergency to other people. Or like an extended version of a SAW movie, depending on your perspective.

Oh. Hm. I see.

And then I bought a bunch of stuff from Joann’s because I can’t do shit about it. Might as well have my fun little hobbies to stave off The Horrors.

[hyperfixiation-station]

Behind Enemy Lines Pt.1

CW: Torture, Canon-typical violence, talk of derealization, disassociation Summary: You were a friendly medic, captured years ago and held prisoner, forced to do do the bidding of your captors. Years later, a man by the name of Ghost is dragged in and changes the trajectory of your life. A/N: I had severe ADHD, and i am unmedicated rn, and it makes it really hard to work on things unless I get the hyperfocused drive for it, so I'm sorry I'm so bad at making the other parts to my fics. Know that I will never abandon them. it just might take me a while. idea part 2

You fought back, at first. Way back when you first got captured, taken from your base camp and dragged through miles and miles of harsh terrain, blindfolded and bound. A medic you were, yes. But your team had trained you with the best of them. You spent the whole time trying to escape, kicking and screaming until they bound your legs and gagged you. You spent the first month of captivity refusing to talk to them, hissing and spitting and pretending their punches didn’t hurt. But it didn't take you long to realize it was better to cooperate, or to at least be civil. Civility got you less broken bones, less pain, more rations, more sleep. Cooperation didn’t come till later, when you finally realized your team wasn't coming for youthey were dead but you didn't know that.

Surprisingly, the whole mouth-getting-sewn-shut didn't happen till a couple years in... they were torturing someone, a man who said he had kids and a wife at home, whose only wish was that they left something recognizable of him so they could get some closure. You begged them to stop. Begged them to stop when his wounds became too numerous to count, too much for you to handle. Begged because you started to care for him as he told you about his son and daughter, how they want him home for Christmas(You didn't have the heart to tell him Christmas was 6 days ago) Told them that he would die no matter what you did if they continued. Well, they didn't stop, and he did die... and you found yourself ringing in the new year by being strapped to a table.

“We warned you to stop talking with him.” They said as they clamped the metal shut over your forehead and chin, holding you in place. “We told you to not get attached, but since you can’t seem to do it on your own, we’ll help you.” The feeding tube came 2 weeks later, shoved up your nose when they realized you were starving...they couldn't lose their favorite medic of course.

You stopped paying attention to the passage of time after that, spent most of your days drifting in and out of reality, moving through the motions with a practiced ease. And it would have remained that way, if it wasn’t for a man in a skull mask with a team- a family- looking for him. 

Your first introduction to him ended up with you getting a broken nose. Per usual, you were shoved into the cell, medical kit in hand, ready to fix up whatever damage your captors had done the their poor prisoner.

The mask he had been wearing when you saw him dragged in was gone, and he had a gash that went all the way through his cheek that would need stitching up. You pull out your equipment, moving slowly towards his bleeding face. 

he headbutted you the moment you got close enough for him to reach, and the crunch of bone and the gush of warm blood followed, not that you noticed. You were still in that dreamlike state, not quite tether to reality in the way you should be. You barely noticed when they tranqued him, and the only reason you didn't finish his stitches is because you passed out too(it’s hard to breathe through a bloody, broken nose)

The next time you approach more carefully, but he’s no trouble. Mostly because they left him completely strapped to the table this time. Today was a rare day, a time when you  could actually feel your feet on the ground rather than just see them. You feel bad as you wipe him down, your eyes flicking over the myriad of scars on his body. What’s one more you think to yourself as you get to work stitching a stab wound to his thigh. Just barely missed the artery here…that could have been bad news. Okay tie it off and- there we go. I think the only other thing that need to- oh, is he…talking to me? I should probably pay attention to that.

“-here?” His voice is gravely, though you suppose yours would be too after being tortured. He stares at you expectantly, and you shrug. You don’t know what he said, and even if you did, you couldn’t answer. You just move to his wrist, snapping the bone back in place. He inhales sharply, but doesn’t make an actual sound, which surprises you. But you don’t dwell on it, wrapping a bandage around his arm and moving to exit the room. 

“Y’ no’ g’nna lemme off?” His voice sounds, “they said y’ would.” You spin around, staring at him. You're not stupid. And even if your…bosses had said that, you still wouldn’t do it. Being trapped in a room with a man who is at least a foot taller than you and looks like he could kill a man with his glare? No thank you. 

You take a step back, heading towards the door. The man lets out a sound you would barely qualify as a laugh. “Sm’rt then.” He says to himself, “No’ gonna be that easy.” 

The next time you go in, you can't help but wonder what they want from this man. By now they usually would have killed him off. Oh well, not your job to wonder. You clean him up, splinting the fingers they had broke when he talks to you again.

"why don't y' let me die?" He says, voice just as gravely as before, "Put me outa m' misery?" You don't respond, just keep taping his hand. IT's something you ad asked yourself, right at the beginning. It would be kinder for you to just let your patients die. But you couldn't do it. Partially because you were punished anytime someone died before your captors wanted them to, but also because you were a medic. YOu were there to heal. You couldn't stomach letting someone die by your hand.

"Answer me!" The man snarls, bringing you back to the present, "For god's sake y' never talk, fuckin' mute." You don't respond, of course. Just finish your task and leave him to his thoughts.

He’s angrier after that time, you’ve noticed. The few times you're actually present, he’s fighting you. Usually not with words, but he bucks and doesn’t hold still. He’s tried to grab your medical supplies countless times, and one time you actually had to be pulled out because he jerked his arm while you were stitching him and somehow managed to drive the needle into your own hand. The few times he does actually yell at you, you’re usually not paying attention. You can catch words like “Dishonorable”  and “Disgraceful”. You aren’t entirely sure of the context of the words, but you can guess. You’ve treated enough prisoners who think that you are the world's worst human being, a blight to the medical field, to guess what he's trying to tell you. 

It's funny though, this man so full of hate. Because, for the first time in goodness knows how long, your feet are on the ground, and your head is level. Something about this man, his angry, uncrushed demeanor, even after weeks of torture, stirs emotion in you that you can’t quite identify. And maybe you should be grateful, thankful your head is on right, but you're not. You so desperately want to go back to that place of apathy and detachment, where your emotions weren’t so strong, were the pains of mishealed bones and poorly healed scars didn’t plague your waking moments. 

Or maybe it wasn’t the man- The Ghost, as you found out he was called. Maybe it was the fact that something in the air had changed. The air was electric, charged with tension so thick you could feel it even alone in your cot. They were watching you, you could tell. Could feel their eyes tracking your movements in a way they hadn’t since first giving you freedom to move around. 

You're not sure why. It’s not like you have anyone to go home to. You were an only child, and your parents had died long before you reached 18. All you had was your team, a team that had seemingly abandoned you. So why would you leave? There was nowhere to go. And yet they watched you. Was it because you were becoming more aware, more grounded then you had been in a long while? Was it the man, Ghost, who had them on edge? 

The answer came two days later. You were in Ghost's cell again, desperately packing gauze into a gaping hole on his side. You don’t know what had happened, but for the first time in years you were dragged from your cell, your captors muttering under their breath in a language you still didn’t understand as they thrust you into his cell. Blood was everywhere. Your best guess was that Ghost had been struggling and an instrument had slipped and gouged out a hole in his side. So here you are, packing gauze into the wound as you try to figure out what to do to keep him alive with your rudimentary supplies. 

You pack another piece of gauze in just as the door goes flying open. Men, dressed in black, wearing the same mask Ghost was, come bursting in. 

“Get back!” The one in the front yells at you, gun pointed in your face. You shake your head, hands pressed against Ghost’s wound. 

“Now!” You make a protesting noise, trying to gesture with your chin. The man looks down, eyes widening. 

“Aw shit- are you the medic?” You nod almost desperately. The man looks at you again, staring at your hands. They are shaking, pressed against the wound as you try to keep Ghost from bleeding out. 

“Fix him.” The man snaps. You shake your head and look up at the man, trying to communicate that you need more supplies. 

“Use your words.” The man gabs the gun at you, indicating he wants you to get on with it. You stomp your foot, shaking your head again. 

“What, what's that supposed..…you can’t speak, can you?” You nod, glad he finally got it. The man groans, lowering his gun.

“You’re coming with us, but you make one wrong move, and I mean one, I will put a bullet through your brain before you can even speak. Got it?” He gestures to the other two men with him, and together you lift Ghost up, carrying him out to safety.

A/N- anyways, here's part one. Sorry if it disappoints anyone

tags, sorry if i missed any:

@redzluvvesage @just-a-harmless-potato-05  @vesna-the-spring @princess312 @norsehorseofcourse-blog @bonniperinktrance @soggywafflezz  @littlebunie @sirbonesly @havoc973 @mommymilkers0526 @thegreyjoyed @pinkiliciousgunp0int @poopoobuttsy @darcellethedreamer @kamote-kuneho

[soapcloth]

Statue!Ghost x reader - pt 2

CW: 18+ MDNI, noncon/dubcon elements, size kink, horror aspects, scopophobia, temporary loss of movement, derealization(?), large insertion, reader gets fingered by a statue pt 1 - not edited - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

It’s been getting worse. 

Ever since you became fearful of a giant marble statue prowling around your place of work, the duration of your shifts would stretch out- mangled and twisted by his presence. No one would pass through the warehouse, causing the towering labyrinth of stock to feel more like an ancient crypt than a museum's storage. 

In light of the phrase 'Out of sight, out of mind.' you had employed the company of a radio that hadn't seen daylight since the nineties to chase away the dread laving across your spine. It helped at first, finally letting you plug away at work, but it was shortlived- only lasting a moment before all sounds started to slowly wither away, leaving only you, your thoughts, and the distant scraping echo.

You couldn't decide which you disliked more; when you’d look away only to find him contorted into a new position, or when you actually saw it happen. Things that big, things with no fibrous muscle or supporting bone to speak of should not be able to move.

The hulking figure was fond of defying nature. 

He had begun to do something much worse than the previous two options, though. The first time you experienced it, there was a quiet rolling noise, distant and unfamiliar. Your base instincts screamed at you not to look, and yet.

He was in a new pose this time, playfully holding his skull-shaped death mask against his face. That itself would not have been too bad if not for the two gaping black pits where his unblinking gaze had resided Two eyes, wet as your own and boasting irritated veins peered at you from the hollow holes through blown, pitch black irises. Following you. 

Slowly, accompanied by the low hum of moving stone, the mask lowered to reveal his usual carved visage. Nothing was stated out loud but you could tell that against your will, something had shifted. 

He approached, agonizingly slowly, but directly and with thundering footfall. He knelt down before you, head swiveling as he got closer inorganically. You could hear laboured breath whistling through the notch in his still lips, examining it at this angle revealed a small hole that hadn't been there before. This alerted you to a fact that gave you pause- below thick stone skin there was a cavity with room to accommodate something you couldn’t possibly begin to fathom rattling around inside him. The thought sat at your eyes, too difficult to be transmitted through their receptors into your brain beyond a surface level acknowledgment. 

Up close, you could see that his motions were not as smooth as you had initially assumed; every inch moved labourous, awkward, and accompanied by the incremental jerk. 

He would get closer until his lips, though much larger, were level with your own. 

The contact came contradictorily, both expected- welcomed, and unheralded, an ice water shock to your system.

Something in your mind that had rationalized him as a thing had told you he was of flesh like you, but the kiss was chilled and unmoving. Stone fingers digging into the cement floor told you he was expecting reciprocity, leaving you with no other options but to accomodate embarassingly and press warm lips to stone. 

His marble head nudged to the side softly, leading you like a lamb to the notch. Your lips slowed as you were hit with the nausea that accompanied peering into a hollow otherside, too dark to see anything in there- and there was something in there.

All at once, you were accosted by visions of a man, a victor- every glimpse lasting only microseconds and each one incredibly overwhelming. 

Dizzy. 

You fell back with a crawling sense of paralysis taking over your body, and with a freezing touch, more gentle and reverent than you could have ever expected- he cradled you, dragging his big body back to his ornate podium to pet and nudge at you, head uncannily tilting with curiousity for each sound he managed to pull from you. 

Pulseless fingers prodded at you as you looked up at him and for a passing moment, he was man, both of the earth and grounded as a large finger slipped under your shirt, soft grit tracing at your belly. For a passing moment, expressionless monochromatic eyes were those of man too, incredibly melancholic and lonely before the emotion vanished, gone all to soon. 

Your monolith breathed as his finger curled downwards, dipping into your undergarments, playing with the hidden flesh, absorbing your warmth for himself. 

His touch heated, and you could hear distant cheers of a battle hard won and a band- no, a single instrument, perhaps a lyre? It sounded far off and intimate, but it was there; it's dulcet tones swimming around your head.

A big, warm hand fussed with your pussy, pumping in and out with an unspoken worship.

Too focused on the feeling, you could only barely make out his deep voice murmuring as he talked you through his touches, the blurred looming silhouette of your giant somehow bigger made mortal than he ever seemed in his effigy. 

With heavy lids you blinked, and then through your bleary gaze you caught sight of those crystal clear bloodshot eyes set over a black void on his undefined face. You gasped, pulling away as he examined you, invasive and unwelcome gaze the only thing you could make out of his vague form. Like you had been scorched by fire, suddenly all you could feel was the hot freeze of a stone finger dug inside your folds, pumping you full. he continued to nudge around inside you experimentally, stretching you out far beyond anything you were accustomed to. he kept the same deep and agonizingly deliberate pace as you writhed beneath his bulk, squinting as humid, laboured Shallow breath fanned your face, painting you in a wet sheen. You clenched around the solid intrusion; crying out as you came on the numbingly cold marble that met your skin.

You panted, sprawled across stone with swelling lungs as you gazed upwards at the silent image of a man. Coming to, you blinked as sunlight bled in through the raised skylights, soaking the back of his head in a white glow. He stared back through unmoving spheres as you gave a shaky, torturous heave, pulling yourself off him. Ache scorched your inner muscles as you staggered through the warehouse and to the stairwell doors. As with all things relating to him, the sting only got worse the more you acknowledged it. Pushing the pain to the back of your mind, you stumbled towards your waypoint, everything around you becoming more tangible as ambient sounds flooded and warmed your ears. You didn’t look back at the carved idol, but that was fine- watchful eyes would find you through troubled dreams.

[delta-chan]

The fact that people are genuinely asking "is this real?" about obviously photoshopped shitposts and begging for them to be tagged "unreality" is extremely concerning. If people are begging for this because "omg it's gonna make me have a derealization episode" that's not what derealization is and not learning (seemingly outright refusing) how to distinguish when something is real--ESPECIALLY news--is incredibly dangerous.

Seriously, people are getting upset over "the bean freaking melted!" and asking "is this real?" is horrific.

[thisishaskins]

no u know what…..working in theatre is a little like purgatory

[lovesick-desires]

EVERY ROSE HAS ITS THORNS

YANDERE!MALLEUS DRACONIA X READER SHORT ONE-SHOT

ABSTRACT: After escaping the grasp of the Fae Prince, you had no idea what you were getting yourself into. CONTENT WARNINGS: dark themes, mild book 7 spoilers, dark yandere behavior, toxic behavior, manipulation, gaslighting, intimidation, use of reality-warping magic, magic-induced hallucinations, coercive control, derealization, mentions of kidnapping, psychological torture(?) TAGS: gender neutral reader, reader is a stand-in for MC/Yuu, no use of y/n, reader is called "Child of Man" like in the game, probably ooc Malleus, no descriptors for y/n (N)SFW?: SFW WORD COUNT: 1.0k+ MALLEUS' YANDERE ARCHETYPE: manipulative, possessive

Burning.

That's all you could feel in your every aching nerve.

"Child of man, where have you gone off to?" A deep, silky smooth voice echoed through the corridors of the Diasomnia dormitory hall. A voice that haunted every waking moment of your recent life. You could hear the footsteps of the enigmatic housewarden as they clicked closer to your hiding spot.

You could feel your heart racing, your breathing quickening, and sweat beading down your forehead. Your bare feet ached from the previous chase, surely covered in sores and blisters from your suede shoes you had haphazardly thrown on. You thought you had lost him, but you were wrong.

“I’m not one for these sorts of games, child of man,” the fae prince derided, the green heels of his leather boots clacked against the tile floor, each sound feeling like it was breaking your bones. “I’d much rather you just come to me. You trust me, don’t you?” Malleus’ voice incanted, his words dripping off his silver tongue.

You could hear the fae prince drawing near, making you feel smothered in an overwhelming sense of impending doom. As he came closer, you felt hazy. The world felt like it stopped moving even for a moment as it all felt unreal. You looked at your shaky, sweaty hands as it felt like they weren’t even yours. Like you were… in a dream.

You could hear the crackling of flames outside the cabinet you hid in, garnering your attention. Amidst the sound, the temperature in the cabinet began to get warmer and warmer.

“After everything we had done together, the times we shared, the friendship we built, that adorable nickname you gave me. Was all of that for naught?” The fae prince queried, his heels clicking ever closer to the cabinet. Time was running out as plumes of smoke seeped in, percolating through the edges of the wooden door. Your lungs filled with smoke as you tried to stay calm.

He wouldn’t burn this place down with you inside, right?

A soft glow snuck its way in through the growing cracks in the cabinet, containing viridescent flames and embers. You didn’t have much time. You had to move.

With much reluctance, you burst through the cabinet door to no sign of Malleus aside the green flames slowly consuming the Diasomnia hall. Walls were cracking, tapestries were burning, and debris was crumbling down from the ceiling. It all felt so surreal, yet, it was right in front of your very eyes.

However, it was time to move. Glancing around, you covered your mouth with your sleeve to keep yourself from inhaling smoke. No sight of the Briar Valley prince could be found. Your eyes stung from the acrid smoke as you made a run for it, bolting for the mirror hall

A way out, a way home.

What would Ace and Deuce think about your return? What about Grim? What about everyone? All the friends you made and all the memories sped through your mind. Your friends, the Spelldrive Tournament, the Song & Dance Championship, saving your friends from STYX, all the overblots and trauma, the chaos of it all… Oh, how much you missed it. Tears blurred your vision as you kept running, thinking of about how much you missed it all. The normal chaos of your life was much better than this, as much as a pain it could be.

Soon enough, you busted into the mirror hall, your body aching as you frantically looked around. Still no Malleus, but you weren’t going to complain about that. Your gaze shifted to the Ramshackle mirror, one you had been yearning to see. Your breath caught in your throat as you heard the prince’s heels approaching from behind. The sickening clicks and clacks echoed in your ears like a swarm of insects burrowing into your skull.

Without a second thought, you ran to the Ramshackle mirror, not giving up now. Your heart raced in your eardrums as you felt yourself get closer and closer to freedom…

CRASSHHHHH!

The mirror before mere seconds before was now shattered into pieces, it’s reflective glass lay dappled on the floor’s tiles like little stars of a broken dream. You felt your blood run cold as you stared open your destroyed escape, seeing yourself in the shattered reflections. Your gaze shifted to the mirrors of the other dorms: Heartstabyul, Savanaclaw, Octanivelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde. All were shattered as well, leaving only remnants of glass as a mere ghost of what they once were.

“My, my, did you really think I’d just let you go?” The prince jeered, a soft smile audible in his tone. Before you could react, you could feel a familiar pair of hands clamp onto your shoulders. “A thought so misinformed, child of man.” He continued, his presence looming from behind.

You couldn’t bring yourself to scream, cry, or even whimper in the face of your defeat. All that came from your quivering lips was ragged breaths and each one feeling like daggers in your lungs, stabbing in and out.

“Have you had your fun? Did you get it out of your system?” Malleus derided, one of his hands sliding from your shoulder into his pocket.

“I-“

“Good, good…” Malleus interjected, retrieving his magical pen from his pocket. With a flick of the prince’s wrist, the world shifted and warped as the mirror room faded into Malleus’ bedroom. The bright atmosphere of the mirror room was warped into the adumbrations that decorated the prince’s chambers. With his hand still planted on your shoulder, the prince firmly pushed you to sit on the bed, looking down at you with those dark, brooding eyes that glowed a slight green in the darkness of his room. His shadow cascaded upon your still stunned form, trying to process everything that just happened. With that, Malleus leaned closer to you, his hand traveling from your shoulder to your chin. A soft smile adorned his lovelorn lips as he stared hungrily down at you.

“Welcome home, child of man.”

SONG OF THE FIC: LET THE WORLD BURN - CHRIS GREY

TWST MASTERLIST

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

Hi! I would love to request some cuddling scenarios with Lucifer, Alastor, and Vox!

SOFT MOMENT OF NON SEXUAL INTIMACY?! IN THIS HOUSE?! Yes, please!

It's implied romantic but could be queer platonic or a queer/nontraditional couple.

Lucifer

This man wants snuggles. Any way he can get them any time, he isn't required to not be physically attached to you. He really struggles with derealization/depersonalization. His depression gets bad, he isolates, and time has pretty much lost meaning to him after being around so long, so he just kinda, wastes away into sadness. It's how he and Charlie fell apart the first time, and he really doesn't want it to happen again.

Having you around to just talk to, hold hands with, sit on your lap, or you in his, it helps. It's like a reminder that he's still alive and someone wants to be around him. Someone wants to spend time with him. That you care. It also motivates him to stay in contact with Charlie instead of convincing himself she's better without him.

He still loves Lillith, regrets they aren't together, but he doesn't blame her for leaving. He's more upset with how it affects Charlie. So he makes extra effort to spend time with you, to acknowledge how important you are to him. He's so paranoid about ruining this relationship. This man has centuries of being told everything is his fault, everything wrong with the world, and is forced to face that supposed truth every day he rules Hell.

His favorite thing is just pulling you on top of him like a weighted blanket, wrapping his wings around the both of you, and laying in a dark, warm, cocoon. He'll take deep breaths, pet your hair, and just let himself finally relax. The first few times you'd stayed quiet, assuming that's what he wanted, but it just makes it easier for him to disassociate.

Now you talk to him, softly, about your day, ask about his. You slowly get him to open up about his favorite things, good memories he has of Lillith, baby Charlie, the sins, times before the Fall. It's a long process to get him to talk about it. Please be patient and gentle with him. He likes when you play with his fingers while he talks, just holding his hand and twisting and turning it, moving his rings around, just don't touch his wedding ring please, maybe you even manage to do his nails in this position.

His second favorite is when you help preen his feathers, gently massaging his wing joints, polishing each feather with the oil from his glands, using your thumbs to work out knots in the muscles around the base. It always turns into a full back massage that leaves him purring, making happy sighing sounds and little moans. He usually falls asleep like this. Don't worry though, once he wakes up, he's definitely returning the favor. He does head massages too! He prepares a little personal spa day for you.

He isn't really looking for anything more intimate when he's in one of sadder moods and is cuddling with you to feel better, he wouldn’t turn it down, he's too afraid you'd be upset, but he really just wants to be held or to hold someone. It's the little things that really make you special to him, and he cherishes every second you guys are together.

Alastor

We all know Alastor isn't a fan of being touched unless he initiates it. There are very few exceptions to this, so you have to be pretty close to him to even get the option to cuddle him.

You'll have to start slow, like holding his hand. A lot of people think he's the type to not want to do too much PDA, but like, look at how he is with Rosie and Mimzy in front of everyone. He doesn't care. Not for small things like hand holding. This eventually leads to him putting his arm around your waist as you're walking together, or around your shoulders if you're sitting next to each other so you can lean on his shoulder.

Now more intimate gestures, like cheek kisses, forehead kisses, petting his ears, those are private. He will resist at first, preferring to lavish you with attention, but be stubborn, match his energy, especially the witty banter, and eventually you'll wear him down.

It's canon that Alastor's hardly ever sleeps, so I imagine if you're a motherly type, (regardless of gender), or someone he genuinely trusts (because its not about if he's safe. He's the Radio Demon, very few sinners are a threat to him, so being a little vulnerable with you is safe no matter the level of trust) he's going to pass out.

You're in his room (or yours, but he prefers his) and he agreed to let you pet his ears. You settle on the bed, his head on your chest or lap, and he closes his eyes, soft jazz music playing from some unseen source, and maybe you're watching something on your phone, (he allows it only if it's something he can enjoy as well, but he usually winds up listening more than watching because screens hurt his eyes after awhile) more likely you're listening to a podcast, Alastor likes listening to true crime with you.

Your fingers gently run through his hair at first. You tease him about the bob sometimes, but understand that he's prone to pulling his hair out otherwise. Eventually you notice the music has stopped and Alastor's fast asleep, the smile on his face is so small it nearly doesn't exist, and his breathing is slow and even. His ears twitch when you stop petting them, and he stirs a bit, so you quickly resume playing with them and he falls back asleep.

(His tail is sensitive too, if you ever wanna fluster him, just run a finger down his spine to that cute little tail and give it a gentle tug.)

Alastor is also prone to play biting, so if you're an excited nibbler who gives noms, expect your cuddles to end up with a few bite marks.

Vox

It's really hard for him to sit still long, so if he's working late and you want to spend time with him, just crawl yourself into his lap and get comfy. He'll grumble and complain about the distraction, but it's all for show. He'll put his arm around your waist and trace your hipbones with his thumb, or play with your hair, run his fingers up and down your back, just small fidgety things.

He understands his head is inconvenient for snuggles, and he may not be the most comfortable. (I headcanon his body is built like the Detroit Become Human bots, with like silicone padding to appear/feel like skin, but it's hard plastic and metal and wires underneath with biomechanical parts inside.)

He is warm, though, and has the constant hum of his internal fans and electricity, so he's great for sensory snuggles. He's great for when you're sore or have migraines (surprisingly, but he can turn his brightness down at will). He likes to do more traditional forms of PDA.

He walks with his hand on your lower back. (He and Alastor both absolutely do the subconscious walk with their partners on the inside and them closest to the streets or alleyways. Lucifer would, but he probably isn't even aware it's a thing.)

You're cooking/baking/doing anything with your back to him, he puts his hands on your waist and leans against you. He's 7ft tall so he probably won't lean his entire body on you, but enough to feel close to you.

His favorite snuggles are disgustingly domestic. Like, his all time favorite, is when you're both sitting together on a couch, enjoying a movie or show, or maybe you're reading or on your phone or gaming, and he's working, just anytime you're occupying the couch together and existing, he'll pull your feet into his lap and massage them.

It's not like, a fetish thing, he just thinks it's sweet. A nice gesture to show how much he appreciates what you do, how hard you work. He'll massage your ankles and calfs too. He's also prone to trying to play with your hair and massage your scalp when you're laying on his chest at night, but his claws get tangled easily. Settles for rubbing your shoulders/back.

He likes when you rub his back and neck too. The man spends way too much time hunched over his desk at work. His back aches from doing the gremlin hunch over his desk to standing ramrod straight in front of cameras, sitting properly and confidently, stiff as a fucking board. You once teased him about how he could just use one of his cardboard cutouts as a stand-in, and no one would know.

Other times, he likes to lay on you. The first few times he sprawled across your lap seeking affection and reassurance for his fragile ego, you'd been so nervous to crack his screen. But now you're more used to it and will even playfully try and poke it/tap it. Between you and Valentino, Vox has had to rule out ever getting a touch screen for a head, because neither of you will stop fucking with it. It does make him laugh, though, adorable little giggles he'd rather die than let the general public hear. It usually turns into a playful wrestling match and aggressive cuddles with a side of petty static electricity from Vox.