#trying so so hard not to break into panic attack mode

[wholoveseggs]

Hello my love, I hope all is well! I have been missing you! I have one request to put on your pile: Elijah breaks up with y/n because he feels he can't keep her safe from the many enemies his family has. Y/n is heartbroken and has Niklaus compel the memory of her and Elijah away. She remembers him before their relationship, but not the love they shared for each other. Elijah is furious with Niklaus as he realizes he made a huge mistake letting her go. Y/n is living her best life while Elijah is dying inside. After a while, the family gets tired of seeing Elijah brood, and they find a way to contain Elijah and y/n in close quarters as Niklaus has her memories return. I picture it angsty and also pretty smutty.

Remnants {Part One}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part One

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!reader} You almost died in his arms. Now Elijah has to decide which hurts worse: loving you, or losing you.

♡♡ hello darling @originals23 I love this idea so much I turned it into a series... xoxo♡♡

4.1k words - Warnings: smuttt, kidnapping, blood & injury, angst, hurt/comfort, protective Elijah in full panic mode, break-up sex (but like… lovingly), Klaus being weirdly nice, && a mysterious villain leaving bloodstained poetry...

{Part Two}{Part Three}

The first thing you felt when you came to was the ground. Solid concrete, cold and rough. You tried to roll onto your back, only to discover that your wrists were bound behind you. You slowly opened your eyes, dust and sand clinging to the dampness of your eyelashes. The room was dark. Your head pounded, and a faint metallic taste filled your mouth; it took you a moment to realize it was blood.

You sat up, wincing when the rough fabric of the ropes cut into your wrists. A sharp pain pierced your brain, and you slumped back to the floor. The world around you spun, and the room was silent, save for your ragged breathing. A warm pool of blood spread beneath you, soaking through your clothes. You looked down, confused. The sight of the dark crimson against your blue dress made you panic, and you began to weep.

Your eyes darted around the room, searching for any source of light. When you couldn’t find one, you gave up, trying to calm your breathing instead. Tears continued to stream down your cheeks as the memory of your last few moments came rushing back. You had been walking to your boyfriend’s home, just a block from your own, when someone had attacked you. Their arm had snaked around your throat, pulling you into an alley. You tried to fight back, but your assailant had been too strong. Or had there been more than one? You couldn’t remember. All you knew was that you had been stabbed, and you had blacked out.

A soft thud in the distance pulled you from your thoughts, and you held your breath, straining to hear. It was hard to tell how far away it was. Footsteps echoed through the darkness, coming closer.

You tried to sit up again, bracing yourself for the pain that followed. You couldn't see the source of the footsteps, but they seemed to be circling you. The sound of your racing heart filled your ears, and you struggled against the rope around your wrists. The footsteps stopped, and a pair of black boots appeared in front of you.

The man squatted down, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. He was pale, with light hair and dead eyes, as though he had been completely hollowed out.

"Where is Elijah Mikaelson?" he asked, his voice devoid of any emotion.

You flinched at the name, your lips trembling. "I-I don’t know. Please…"

The man didn’t react. He didn’t threaten you, didn’t smile, didn’t blink. He just stood up and disappeared again, footsteps echoing into the dark.

You collapsed forward, choking on a sob.

But not two minutes later, you heard another sound.

Faster. Heavier. Sharper.

Not boots. But dress shoes.

The air shifted like it always did around him; before you could see him, you felt him.

"Elijah," you whispered, barely conscious.

There was a sound of yelling, followed by a sickening crunch and a scream that was cut short. You squeezed your eyes shut, curling in on yourself, trying to block out the noises.

When silence finally fell, you dared to look.

He was there, covered in blood, fury rolling off him like a storm cloud. His eyes, usually so calm even when he was angry, were now blown wide and wild with panic.

He dropped to his knees beside you and caught your face in both hands. You could barely focus on him; the edges of your vision were darkening, and his voice sounded muffled.

He started yelling your name, over and over again, like saying it could keep you tethered. His hands moved over your body, trembling as he checked for wounds. You felt the press of his fingers at your throat, on your wrist, then cradling the back of your head.

"Stay with me," Elijah breathed, barely holding it together. "Please, darling, stay with me."

You tried to speak, but your lips wouldn’t form the words. Your body gave a weak twitch, and he exhaled a sound that bordered on a sob. You had never heard him sound like that before.

Your eyes started to close, the darkness swallowing him whole. You fought it, struggling to see him one last time, but your body had given up. You felt him press his wrist to your lips, felt the warm blood drip into your mouth, and then nothing.

The blood wouldn’t come off.

Elijah had scrubbed his hands three times already, but he could still see it. Under his nails. In the cracks of his knuckles. A smear along his wrist that had soaked through his cuff.

You were alive. That was what mattered.

But barely.

He stood in the corner of the compound’s kitchen, staring at the sink, one hand braced against the counter. He could still feel the way your body had gone limp in his arms. Still hear the rasp of your voice when you whispered his name.

He hadn’t been fast enough.

Footsteps approached. He didn’t turn.

"Is she alive?" Klaus said. His voice was low, cautious.

Elijah gave a stiff nod.

Klaus leaned against the counter beside him. "Did you catch who took her?"

Elijah was quiet for a moment. Then he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small, folded piece of paper. He handed it over without a word.

Klaus opened it.

No signature. No greeting. Just one sentence, written in the same dark red ink as before.

Every heart but mine is temporary.

Klaus let out a humorless laugh. "Rather creative."

"Do you find something amusing?" Elijah snapped.

"Yes," Klaus replied, unperturbed. "Your little girlfriend nearly died, and the one behind it all left us a poem."

Elijah's jaw tightened, and he reached up to adjust his tie. But his fingers brushed the spot on his collar where the blood had soaked through. The tie was ruined. As was his suit.

His hand dropped back to his side.

Klaus glanced over, noting his brother's uncharacteristic slouch."I can't imagine you'll let this stand."

"Of course not," Elijah replied, his voice strained. "But... I fear I've failed her. If I hadn't left her side, this wouldn't have happened."

"Elijah," Klaus sighed. "It's not-"

"Don't," Elijah interrupted. He finally turned to look at his brother, a flash of anger crossing his features. "Don't tell me it's not my fault. Someone tried to take her life because of her connection to me."

Klaus shrugged. "It's part of the package. She knew what she was getting into when she started dating a Mikaelson."

Elijah stared at him, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was too exhausted, too upset, and too distracted by the scent of your blood all over him to bother with a witty comeback. "She almost died, Niklaus. Her heart stopped. I felt it stop."

"But she didn't," Klaus said. "You gave her your blood. She's fine. Healed. Safe. Right upstairs."

"This time," Elijah said, voice sharp. Then quieter, "Next time, I might not."

Klaus tilted his head, watching him. "So what? You're going to leave her? Walk away?"

Elijah didn't answer. He didn’t have to.

Klaus let out a long breath. "You think distance is going to save her? That girl would walk through fire to find her way back to you."

Elijah looked away, his gaze drifting toward the door.

Klaus looked down at the paper again, lips curling into a grim smile. "And apparently… she’s not the only one."

When you woke up, the room you were now in was a world away from the last. The sunlight filtering through the curtains was soft and golden, and the ache in your body had dulled to a slow, manageable throb. You were tucked beneath Elijah’s sheets, clean and clothed in one of his soft button-downs. The pillows still smelled like him. But you were alone.

Your eyes fluttered open fully just as the bedroom door creaked.

He stood in the threshold, hair swept back, sleeves rolled, a cup of tea in one hand, steam curled around his knuckles. His eyes met yours, and something behind them broke. He put the cup down on the table beside the door, then was by your side in an instant, kneeling beside the bed.

You smiled softly at him. "Hey."

His dark eyes were brimming with emotion, but the rest of his face stayed carved from stone.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice steady.

 "A little sore, but I'm okay."

He helped you sit up, propping pillows behind you. When you were comfortable, he leaned back, still kneeling.

You studied his face, searching for any clue as to what he was feeling. Your pulse kicked, bracing for an answer you already feared. His eyes flickered away, his jaw set.

"What happened, Elijah?"

"What do you remember?"

"I was walking. Someone grabbed me and I was stabbed," you said. "Then, there was this man. He wanted information about you… about where you were."

Elijah didn’t move. His hands were clenched into fists in his lap.

"And then, you were there," you said softly.

"And then I was there," he said, barely more than a breath, his eyes briefly flicking to the window as if he couldn’t bear to look at you.

"Thank you," you murmured.

His eyes flashed, and his mask slipped, if only for a moment. He looked haunted.

"Did you kill them?"

Elijah looked down, then stood and walked toward the window. "I did."

"Elijah…" you murmured, reaching out a hand.

He stiffened and turned his back. "You shouldn’t have been hurt in the first place. They were there for me."

You had seen that look before. The one where every sin in the world somehow traced back to him. "Come here," you whispered.

His shoulders sank, and he moved farther away from you. "I’m not going to stay."

Your hand fell, and your heart twisted painfully in your chest.

"No," you choked, your throat suddenly tight.

"You will be safer without me. They will not stop, and they will not hesitate to use you as a pawn. And I will not risk that. I cannot."

"No," you said again, your voice thick with tears. You got to your feet, legs trembling, head spinning from the sudden movement. "No, please, Elijah…"

You stumbled, your knees buckling beneath you, but his arms were around you in an instant, steadying you. He held you like that for a long time, his chin resting on top of your head, his hand cupping the back of your neck.

"I will always protect you. Nothing like this will ever happen to you again, I swear," he whispered.

He released you, but kept his hands on your waist. You shook your head, tears spilling onto your cheeks. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then let his hands fall, unable to look at you. He was already halfway out the door before you spoke.

"Do you still love me, Elijah?"

He paused and you waited, barely breathing.

"Yes."

The word hung in the air, suspended like the breath caught in your throat.

You were frozen, and so was he. Neither of you dared to move, neither of you dared to speak. You took a tentative step toward him, and he didn’t pull away. So you did it again. Then again. Until you were standing just behind him.

You reached up, running your fingers lightly over his shoulder, up the back of his neck, into his hair. His shoulders shuddered, and you stepped closer.

"Why are you hurting us, then?" you asked.

He let out a slow, controlled breath, afraid to speak. You slowly turned him to face you, your fingers still buried in his hair.

"Let’s not end this way," you murmured.

He shook his head. "We must."

"No."

He stared at you, his eyes dark and conflicted. "I’m sorry."

You kissed him. It was soft and slow, full of all the things you couldn’t say. It tasted like goodbye, salt and blood and promises neither of you could keep. For a moment, Elijah stayed perfectly still, like he was trying to memorize this moment, to hold onto every second before it slipped through his fingers.

"I don’t know how to love you without putting you in danger," he whispered against your lips, and then his restraint shattered.

His hands slid around your waist, pulling you impossibly close as he deepened the kiss, desperate, almost frantic.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, holding him against you. He lifted you easily, guiding your legs around his waist, swept you off shaky feet and laid you where the sheets still held your warmth.

He gently climbed over you, careful not to hurt you, but you pulled him down, needing the comforting weight of his body against yours. Your fingertips skimmed beneath his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, letting it fall away.

"I don’t want you to leave," you whispered, your voice breaking.

Elijah kissed the words away, lips tracing the line of your jaw, down your throat, stopping at the pulse that fluttered beneath your skin.

"I don’t want to leave," he murmured roughly, pressing another heated kiss to your collarbone. "But I must."

You arched into him, desperate to change his mind, even if only for a moment. His hands drifted lower, unbuttoning the shirt he had dressed you in, parting it gently, leaving a trail of soft, burning kisses on every inch of skin he revealed.

"I want you," you murmured, brushing his hair back, letting the soft locks fall between your fingers. "I don’t want to be without you."

He paused, meeting your gaze. For a moment, vulnerability and pain mixed with raw, unabashed love gleamed in his eyes. Then he blinked, and it was gone, replaced by his carefully crafted control.

Your mouths collided again, fierce and bruising this time. His hands moved to your thighs, lifting them to wrap around his waist; you could feel his hardness pressing against your core. You reached eagerly for his belt, unbuckling it quickly, helping him shed the last barrier between you.

He settled over you, his chest pressed flush against yours, skin against skin, heart against heart. He held your gaze, dark eyes filled with anguish and longing.

"I love you, Elijah," you whispered, holding his face in your hands, stroking his cheek. "This can’t be it."

His eyes fluttered closed, and he took a ragged breath.

"This can’t be it," you said again, softer this time.

"I’d rather break your heart than have your life snuffed out because of me," he replied.

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "And I would rather die knowing that I was loved by you than live without it."

He stared down at you, eyes roving over every inch of your face.

"Don’t leave me," you pleaded, hating the way your voice cracked.

He kissed the tears from your cheeks, then lowered his lips to yours again, capturing them in a sweet, aching kiss.

"I love you," he whispered.

He eased into you as you wrapped your legs around his hips, needing him closer. It wasn’t frantic. It was slow and tender. An apology, forgiveness, every word and touch and stolen glance. It was the beginning, and the end, and everything in between.

His forehead rested against yours, eyes locked, watching the pleasure play across your face.

Your breathing became shallow, and Elijah shifted slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts. He always knew what you needed, knew exactly how to make you fall apart, and this time he needed it more than anything.

He watched the ecstasy wash over you. Love, bliss, ruin…and it was almost enough to break him.

Heat coiled low in your belly, wound tight as wire. Every glide of his hips dragged across that sweet spot inside you, every retreat left you aching, reaching. Elijah bent to kiss your parted lips, swallowing your cries as you both fell apart.

Your bodies stilled together, hearts thrumming in the same ragged rhythm. You brushed trembling fingers along his jaw, searching his eyes for anything that might look like surrender.

"…do you want me to leave?"

His brow furrowed, agony flickering across his face. "No," he breathed. "I never want you to leave."

Relief bloomed in your chest, only to wither when he added, "But we can’t stay like this, either. Being with me will get you killed. It’s over."

It's over. The words cracked something inside you. Your vision blurred as hot, helpless tears welled and spilled. A sob tore free before you could bite it back. You buried your face against his neck, clutching at his shoulders.

"Don’t do this. I don’t care about the danger. I don’t care about any of it… just don’t let me go." you cried, voice breaking on every word.

He held you tighter, jaw clenched so hard you felt the tremor in his muscles. "I love you," he whispered hoarsely, "which is exactly why I have to."

You shook your head, sobbing harder, your tears streaking his skin. "No. No, you don’t. We can fight- together…"

"Enough." His tone was soft but unyielding, the finality of it slicing through you. "It has to end now, before the cost is your life."

The certainty in his voice stripped the fight from your limbs. Grief surged into rage-tinged panic. You shoved at his chest..once, twice. Until he let you push him back. The loss of his warmth felt colder than the concrete floor he had rescued you from.

You scrambled off the bed, throwing his shirt off of you and pulling on your bloodstained dress. He didn't move, didn't say a word, didn't look at you. You couldn’t look at him either. If you did, you would shatter.

"You know what's really unfair?" You asked, wiping at the tears that had started to fall again.

He was quiet for a moment. When he did speak, his voice was thick. "What?"

"I didn't ask to be human. I didn't ask to be vulnerable. But if the choice is between a lifetime without you and a few weeks with you, I'll choose the latter."

"Please don't make this harder than it already is."

"You're the one making it hard, Elijah."

You stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind you.

Your feet carried you down the stairs and toward the front door. Tears blurred your vision, and your head was spinning, but you kept going.

You almost made it outside when you slammed directly into something firm and immovable. Strong hands caught your shoulders, steadying you instantly.

"Careful, love," Klaus drawled softly. "What's got you running off?"

You looked up at him, startled and breathless. The smug smile died on his lips when he saw your tear-streaked face, replaced by something like genuine concern.

"Klaus," you rasped, voice cracking. "I-he ended it. Elijah...it's over."

His brow lifted slightly. "Did he now?"

You nodded, biting your trembling lip as fresh tears burned hot down your cheeks. "He's being a noble asshole," you whispered bitterly.

Klaus chuckled softly, but his expression softened slightly. "Yes, well. That's practically his middle name, isn't it?"

You choked on a laugh that quickly dissolved into another sob. Klaus hesitated…just for a moment, before gently guiding you toward the nearby sitting room. "Come now, no use running out in this state. You'll hardly make it to the sidewalk."

You sank down onto a nearby sofa, burying your face in your hands as your shoulders shook violently. Klaus stood awkwardly for a moment before settling onto the coffee table in front of you, elbows resting casually on his knees as he studied you thoughtfully.

"Elijah is many things. A fool. An honorable martyr. Stubborn, prideful, and far too self-righteous, especially considering the amount of blood on his hands." He paused, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "And most of all, an absolute wanker when it comes to women."

You sniffled, glancing up at him, and found his blue eyes fixed firmly on yours, a surprisingly earnest expression on his face.

"There are less complicated men out there, you know. Probably even ones who don't come with a handkerchief addiction and a list of enemies longer than a Tolkein novel."

You huffed a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "Don't try and make me laugh right now, Niklaus. It's not going to work."

Klaus shrugged. "I'm only saying. There are other options."

The very concept that you would have to move on, to let go of how Elijah made you feel and find a way to feel it again with someone else, was so absurd that you wanted to cry all over again.

"Other options," you voiced cracked, your face twisting with the effort of not crying. "Do those options have his stupid dimples or his stupid accent? His stupid, old fashioned chivalry or the stupid way he looks at me when I tell a terrible joke? Or- or his stupid, stubborn sense of honor, or his stupid fucking tongue that knows exactly how to-"

"Alright, alright," Klaus cut you off, looking mildly uncomfortable.

You buried your face in your hands again. "Sorry. I just..." The tears fell freely. You didn't even bother wiping them away.

"Love him," Klaus finished quietly, surprising you.

You nodded.

"Yes. He's stupid for you too," Klaus added after a moment, his tone almost gentle.

You couldn't help the watery laugh that slipped past your lips, or the way your heart squeezed at his words. You had never felt this kind of pain before. You hadn't even known that it was possible to love someone so deeply.

And that’s when it hit you. There was a way out. A way to stop the hurting.

You looked up at Klaus, eyes red-rimmed and desperate. "Can you do something for me?"

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "Depends on what you're asking."

You swallowed hard. "Can you... make it go away?"

His expression didn’t change. He didn’t speak. And for a moment, the silence felt louder than the heartbreak.

You were laughing before you even reached the bar.

Some ridiculous story had just come out of Liv’s mouth. Something about one of those fake psychics on Bourbon Street and a chicken bone reading gone horribly wrong. The way she told it made it impossible not to laugh, even if it sounded like complete bullshit.

She looped her arm through yours, tugging you along. "Come on," she grinned, dark eyes glittering beneath the fairy lights strung between buildings. "You promised me drinks, and I don’t take broken promises lightly."

"I think you promised me drinks," you countered, trying not to stumble on the uneven cobblestones in your heeled boots. "I distinctly remember being lured with tequila."

"Same thing," she said breezily. "Now let’s go flirt with someone dangerous."

Behind you, the others. Tasha, Adam, and Mike, laughed as they caught up. You had only known them for a few weeks, but somehow it already felt like a lifetime.

"I call dibs on any man with a jawline sharp enough to kill," Adam announced.

"And please leave the rich ones to me! I need rent money," Tasha quipped.

You giggled, a little tipsy already from the wine at dinner. The night air was warm and heady, the music drifting out of nearby bars pulsing through your veins. You felt good. Untethered. Like there was nothing in the world weighing you down.

No responsibilities.

No heartbreak.

Not one ancient, perfectly dressed vampire occupying your dreams.

Just fun.

You didn’t even question how quickly this group had become a fixture in your life.. or how naturally Liv had taken charge of it all. She had appeared out of nowhere, crashing into your world at the exact moment you needed someone wild and strange and relentlessly fun. She was curious about everything; your favorite music, your past relationships, the way you wore your hair. Like she was gathering data.

You had been feeling lost, maybe even hollow, and she filled the space with chaos and charm and a kind of reckless energy that made everything seem possible.

The others followed her lead like it was second nature. Even you did.

Tonight was just another blur of it all. The five of you dancing until your feet hurt, spinning through midnight air like nothing could touch you.

"I swear, if one more man with a gross little moustache tells me he ‘works in crypto’..." you were saying as the group leaned on the bar, waiting for your drinks.

"Natural selection used to do the heavy lifting," Liv said, sipping her drink through a straw. "Now it’s up to us."

You tilted your head. "You’re so weird."

She smirked. "You have no idea."

You laughed again, and this time it didn’t feel hollow. It felt like something was coming back to life. Like you were finally remembering how to breathe.

Even if sometimes, in quiet moments between songs or smiles, something inside you whispered that you had forgotten something important. Something that once mattered more than anything.

{Part Two}{Part Three}

[revelboo]

AW COME ON 😭😭 U CANT CLIFF HANG MY UGLY PUPPY LIKE THAT. I'm on my hands and knees, when you feel good please update it my pubby 😢🥺

sure!

I really wasn’t expecting people to not only know my old stuff but remember it and I’m dying a bit inside 🤣

Worker Bee Pt 30

Waspinator x Reader

• Terrified as you dangle, wrapped up like a burrito in your own curtains, your heart is racing so hard you can’t breathe. And the new alien robot lifts you up with a frown to make you freeze in fear when he vents very slowly. Making you wonder how good their sense of smell is. “You and that little coward been fragging?” Fuck. “Maybe if Megatron lets that little deserter live, he can keep you. Little treat for good behavior. Personally, I wouldn’t count on the bug surviving.”

• And your brain snags on that if, breaking through the fear. “Don’t you fucking touch him.” Trying to kick him with your legs bound just makes you spin dizzyingly as he laughs and hooks you on the decorative coat rack on the wall. Did you actually bother to find a stud when you screwed the thing in? Probably not. Eyes narrowed as your captor stalks around your living room touching everything. “Jokes on you asshole. Wasp won’t come back here. He’ll run.” Because your ugly puppy isn’t exactly brave. He’ll scent this guy and bail. He’ll ditch you.

• Gripping extra energon cubes in his legs as he flies, he makes his way back home to you. Doesn’t know what’s going on in the Nemesis, but the guards were distracted, allowing him to crawl in through some damage in the hull. Feeding until he’d nearly made himself sick and taking extra rations to buy him some time before he has to do it again. So he won’t have to leave you again for a while. Buzzing happily, he wonders if you’ll be pleased with him. You have to be, right? He did good. Maybe you’ll touch his antenna and say so?

• “For your sake, I’d hope you’re wrong,” the stranger growls, servos flexing before he picks up a framed photo to clear his vents and toss it, glass breaking and your jaw clenches, but you’re not about to start struggling in case the stupid hook comes loose and you land on your face. “I’m not the most patient mech.” Wasp won’t come back. Your big, dumb puppy is scared of his own shadow. He’ll run and he’ll live. You? Trembling, you close your eyes and try to think of a way to talk yourself out of this mess. Is there a way out? Or has this alien been ordered to eliminate any humans that discover their kind? You’re not even tied up that tight, but you really can’t breathe. Sucking in sharp little gasps as your chest starts hurting, and you know you’re having a panic attack.

• Landing, his antenna swing forward as he vents and drops his energon cubes. Limbs tapping anxiously against the ground, picking up the scent of another Decepticon. Barricade. Not nice. Wings buzzing, he shifts his weight, still in his alt mode. Wanting to flee, remembering those rough hands hurting him as he drops lower, antenna back. But he thinks of you. His soft, sweet, fragile mate. Thinks of those servos on you. Hurting you like they’ve hurt him. He knows pain, but you don’t. And you won’t.

• “Making a lot of noise, squishy,” he mutters, picking up a book off your coffee table and holding it up by the cover, frowning at the pages fanning before tossing it over his shoulder. Those cold optics slide your way, and you can hear your own frantic, gasping. Can’t stop, can’t calm down. “Where’s that attitude now?” He growls reaching to grip your jaw in his servos. “You broken?” And you both freeze at a crash in the back of the house. Seeing something green barrel through the house, screaming like a banshee as it launches itself at the stranger.

• Screaming and hissing in hatred and terror, his claws and mandibles slash at the other mech. Had his hands on you. Hurting you. And the other Decepticon is snarling, swearing and trying to shove him away, hitting him as his mandibles sheer into plating. Sharp denta sinking in and tasting energon. Frenzied and out of control as he attacks. Taking off one of Barricade’s hands at the wrist as the mech kicks him off, rolling and baring his own denta. Wings flicking, he hisses. So scared, but you’re his. Need him and he can’t fail you. “You’re going to pay for that bug,” Barricade snarls and Waspinator lunges. Throws himself at the wall to snare you in his limbs and throwing you both back as the other mech lunges for him, drawing his weapon. He’s too big right now, crashing into everything, battering himself in his panic to get out of the hive to safety. Keeping his frame curled around you, shielding you, he throws himself outside, wings humming as he flies.

• Heart racing as you hang under Waspinator as he unsteadily flies through the trees with you, you can feel energon slicking your cheek and neck and you have no idea if it’s his or that other alien’s. Or where he’s going. He can’t go back to the house with that asshole there and his own kind had sent that guy. You’re both homeless now. And it’s the cold wind stinging your face and your hair whipping you that makes you realize you’re crying. Relieved he came for you when you been sure you were about to die. That the other alien would kill you just for spite. Fear and relief tangling together as you sob, feeling like you’re about to be sick from anxiety as his legs tuck you closer to his frame and he keeps flying.

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[syddsatyrn]

⛧Devotion is Love with Wings⛧ Chapter Two: Emotions Unveiled

Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 / Ch4

⛧Pairing: - Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

⛧Warnings: Alcohol, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, king x servant, panic attack, heartbreak, happy ending.

⛧Words: 2.5K

⛧Summary: Feelings surface and the line between duty and desire begins to blur. Admitting your feelings to the King of Hell could be the best or worst thing that's ever happened to you. Lucifer battles with his own internal struggles in silence.

⛧Notes: Ask and you shall receive, my dears! You all asked me for a part two so here we go! Keep an eye out for my next fic because its time for some Alastor content! My beta reader is @hellfiremunsonn and she deserve all the rainbows and cupcakes.

⛧Tag list: @loslox @tiedyedghoulette @naiadic

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As the soft rays of the morning sun seeped through the velvet curtains, you slowly opened your eyes, blinking a few times, adjusting to the gentle light. Despite the room still cloaked in soothing darkness, you knew you were in Lucifer's room. It takes you a moment to recall last night's events. You feel his breath on the back of your neck and his arm around your midsection. You can feel your face get hotter with every detail you take in. He is comfortably curled up behind you sound asleep. He needs rest, you’re afraid to move a muscle and wake him. You look over at the clock on the wall, you both are extremely late for breakfast.

“...Shit.” You say under your breath. Lucifer begins to move slightly, he lets out a soft hum and holds you just a bit closer. You can’t tell if he’s awake or not, even though you truly did not want to get out of bed, it had to be done. You slowly sit up and turn around, you almost place your hand on his shoulder but you take a moment to admire his sweet sleeping face. Instead, you gently place your hand on his cheek. Lucifer’s eyes flutter open, he meets your gaze and gives you a sleepy smile.

“Good morning…” He says softly while holding your wrist, keeping your hand on his cheek. You wanted to pull away, but his eyes made you want to just crawl back into his arms and go back to sleep.

“G-Good Morning, sir.” You stutter a little, Lucifer’s smile turns into a small smirk, he is amused by how flustered you are. He finally lets go and you try to compose yourself, but it's hard to do so when he looks so cute.

“I’ll go get some coffee, it looks like we slept in.” You finally break the spell he had on you and crawl out of his bed. When you leave, Lucifer immediately misses your presence close to him, having you next to him made a significant difference in his mood and sleep. It was the first time he’d felt the warmth of another person in a long time, and now that he’s had a taste, he wants more.

You head down the hall to your room, when you enter you quickly shut the door, thankful no one saw you. You get dressed in your uniform and head downstairs to the kitchen. While you made coffee, the staff were surprised to see you so late into the morning. You make up a quick excuse, stating you were not feeling well but you’re doing much better now so it's nothing to worry about.

You take two cups of coffee upstairs on a silver tray, and you do your best to mentally shift into work mode, but you can't stop thinking about last night. You return to his room, the king is still in bed, sporting a satisfied look on his face. You hand him his coffee and place the tray on the bedside table. 

“Thank you, my dear.” He says and gestures for you to sit on the bed, so you take your cup from the tray and have a seat.

“I want to apologize.” You start, and he looks at you with a raised brow. “I shouldn't have fallen asleep in your quarters. That was inappropriate of me.”

“I’m gonna stop you there, you do exactly what is asked of you. Everything you do is for my benefit. I could never be upset with you for something like that.” He says with a gentle voice. His gold eyes soften as he realizes you’re being serious.

“Thank you…” You reply, just barely above a whisper. His words made you feel a little better, you only want to do what's best for your king…but sometimes you can get carried away. You would do anything for him, that includes bending the rules.

“Now stop sulking.” He says and crawls over to you, sitting beside you on the bed. He is seated rather close, you look away trying to hide your red face. He turns your face back towards him using his index finger and thumb. “You’re too pretty to be so sad.”

“Y-You forget yourself, sir.” You stutter, barely keeping it together. You finish your coffee and return the cup to the tray. When you stand up and walk towards the wardrobe, Lucifer chuckles at your attempt to remain dignified. He is knocking down walls with the way he speaks to you. Breaking down each professional boundary one at a time. His touch was setting you on fire and you were running out of ways to extinguish it.

You sort through his clothes and pull out a black suit with red and white embellishments. You set it on the corner of the bed like you always do. “I’ll make sure I have your lunch ready for you in your study, sir” You say quickly, with a red blush spread across your face, you take the tray and quickly excuse yourself.

You rush down the hall and back to your room. Your chest heaves and you're out of breath. What in the devil's name happened there?! He looked like he was going to kiss you, his face was so close and he called you pretty! What is this idiot doing? You cover your face with your sleeves and pace back and forth in your room.

You always prided yourself on your composure. You navigate life’s twists and turns with a steady hand and a level head. At first, you brushed off these fluttering feelings as a mere passing fancy. You find yourself in front of a mental crossroads, on one hand, there is the exhilarating rush of new emotions. On the other was fear of rejection, an unconventional relationship, and possible heartbreak. If you ruin what you have with Lucifer, you will end up with nothing. All your years climbing the hierarchy would be null and void.

But what if it was possible? No, it couldn't be, there was just no way. As far as you are aware, you’ve never heard of such a situation that ended well. This can’t possibly be happening, you need some time to sort yourself out. But at some point, you are going to see him again today and you’re not sure how you’ll handle it. You always buried your feelings deep within your heart, locking them away like a precious treasure hidden from prying eyes. You’d like to think you're capable of continuing this facade, but this time you are not so sure.

-----------------

Lucifer sighs as you leave the room, your reactions are rather fascinating though. He gets up and takes his clothes to the bathroom to dress himself. Lucifer is well aware of the power dynamic here, and he has a habit of pushing things as far as he can. It comes with the territory of normally having anything he wants. He buttons his vest and looks at himself in the mirror. So what if he had a thing for his advisor? He wonders if he’s just lonely and that’s why he’s acting this way…even if that was true, it wouldn’t explain the relief he feels every time you enter a room. He puts on his coat, straightens his hat, and leaves his room to spend time in his study. 

He opens the door and notices his lunch is sitting on his desk along with some invoices to sign and an overview of yesterday's meeting. This is unusual, you normally bring him his meal and check in on his daily progress at this time. This is cause for concern, indeed. Was Y/N avoiding him? Surely that can't be true, they would never just ignore him like that. He slumps into his chair, wondering if he messed up somehow. 

Did he ruin the years of trust they had built? He still wants her around, he would hate the idea of anyone else taking your place. The more he thought about it the more the pit in his stomach grew. He attempts to eat but can’t put down much food, his nerves are making it difficult to eat. He needs to find you and apologize, he has to make this right somehow. 

-----------------

Hours go by and you’ve done your best to avoid Lucifer at all costs, but you can't keep this up forever. You are standing on a large balcony in the dining room wearing your pajamas. The sun has set and the stars are visible in the sky, there is a chill in the air. You let out a defeated sigh, you’re going to have to tell him or forget about your feelings completely. You fear that if you confessed your love, the delicate threads that bind you both together would fray and snap. If you forget and try to move on, how bad is it going to hurt when he finds a new love? It would ache so bad you might have to leave his manor entirely, you knew that if that were to happen, it would shatter Lucifer's heart.

You feel a few drops of rain fall on your skin, and as each minute passes the rain becomes heavier and heavier. You look out into the courtyard, it’s getting late and you should be heading inside but you stand there, tears in your eyes. How could you be so foolish and self-centered? You knew the rules and you chose to defy them, it's your own fault you feel so awful.

Suddenly the rain is no longer hitting you, you don't feel the cold drops on your face anymore. You turn around and Lucifer is standing in the doorway, his large wing covers you, shielding you from the rain.

“Hey…Can we talk?” He says with a soft look of concern on his face. You nod while wiping your face with your sleeves, he motions for you to come back inside. He walks slightly ahead of you, leading you upstairs to his bedroom. He opens the door for you and gives you a small half-smile. Lucifer walks over to his desk and pours you both a glass of bourbon. He hands you a glass and you take a seat at the small table next to the window. He sits across from you, you can tell he's a bit anxious because he keeps looking away. You take a sip from your drink, hoping the alcohol will settle your nerves. 

The ambiance of the dimly lit room, the soft glow of candlelight danced upon his face. With a hesitant breath, Lucifer cleared his throat. 

“I need to apologize to you,” Lucifer says with a despairing look on his face. “I’m sure you’ve felt confused and in distress all day.” He takes a sip of his drink while trying to find the right words. “Before I begin, let me just say that I think so highly of you. Y/N, you’ve been there for me during every awful situation I’ve faced and I am so grateful for you.”

He grabs your hand and his expression changes to a more serious one. “I don't want you to leave my side. I couldn’t bear it if I did something to make you leave.”

“Sir, I–” You try to speak but Lucifer interrupts you.

“Y/N. I need you to drop the formalities for ten minutes, please.” He cuts you off and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Is there something going on between us or am I just a lonely, divorced, delusional, man making it all up in my head so I don't feel so shitty about my life?”

You are shocked by his words, you had no idea he felt that way about himself. 

“You’re not delusional, Lucifer.” You answer, it takes you a moment to gather your thoughts and put them in order. “It's all my fault, really. I guess after all this time I’ve developed some feelings.”

Lucifer’s eyes widen, his face softens and he squeezes your hand and you look back into his eyes with a small smile. “I think I just got carried away, I know nothing can happen between us. It would be unacceptable and irredeemable. I’m the delusional one, to think you could ever love someone like me.” You reply while looking down at your drink, your finger toying with the rim of the glass.

Without a word, without warning, Lucifer leaned over the table and grabbed ahold of your shirt. He pulls you close so that you are face to face, leaning over the table. You could feel his breath on your lips as he said, “Love doesn't adhere to rules or expectations, darling. I will choose to defy every convention, every decree if it means I get to spend the rest of my life devoted to someone I love.”

Tears started to well up in your eyes, he slowly closed the gap between you both. His lips softly pressed against yours. Time stopped in that moment, amidst the chaos of entangled emotions. The taste was bittersweet, you’ve only ever dreamed of this. His hand lets go of your shirt and caresses your face. You kiss him back with fervor, a silent confession that speaks volumes. Both of you daring to defy the boundaries of monarchy and courtier.

You lace your fingers with his, he stands up and pulls you out of your seat. You practically fell into his arms, Lucifer held the back of your head, the other arm wrapped around your waist.

Your tears flowed freely as you hid your face in his chest. He holds you tight, offering you silent comfort as you let out quiet sobs. Lucifer strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize…” He says, barely above a whisper. “Just let me take care of you for once, my love.” Before you can protest, Lucifer scoops you up and gently places you on his bed. He climbs in and pulls the covers over you both. He wipes your tear-stained cheeks with his sleeve and smiles at you while you take the time you need to calm down. 

“C’mon, babe say something…You’re killing me.” He says, waiting for you to speak with bated breath.

“I love you…” You say between staggered breaths. Your eyes are locked on his, somehow Lucifer blows through the many walls you’ve put up to prevent this and you are left bare and vulnerable. It is terrifying, being this helplessly in love. Bearing the fragments of your heart to the person who held it entirely.

“I love you too, dummy.” His smile is sweet like saccharine, his voice is smooth like silk. Your lips met his once more while your fingers card through his hair. He kept you as close as possible, and in the hush of the night amidst the whispered confessions, you and your king curled up together and fell asleep once again in each other's arms. No sovereign, demon or angel could pull you two apart even if they tried. 

[tetsunabouquet]

Loved the interpretation and writing of my last request! If you dont mind, here's a new one. Tw! Anorexia

Gom with a reader suffering from severe restricting eating to the point where they passed out in public or private, your choice. Again, sorry if this is triggering.

A/N: Thank you for the compliment! Trigger warnings for the readers up in the request

Akashi

-Don't expect this guy to be surprised. He has been suspecting it for a while. -When you faint in front of him, his heart sinks in that ultimate, 'Oh no,' moment. -Actually has a minor panic attack. -Flashbacks to his mom. -He'll do everything he can to wake you up. -Once you're awake, he'll have food arranged for you and he's guilt tripping you to eat it. -"Don't make me lose another person that I love."

Aomine

-Has actually told you before about how you should gain a little more weight as he notices the thinness but doesn't has the intellectual brain capacity to suspect something like an ED. -When you faint, it still doesn't registers in his mind but he does immediately recognize that you needed something to eat. -Momoi is the one to tell him she suspects your disordered eating, and Aomine's heart honestly breaks at the news. -He is demanding you to tell him which stupid idiot convinced you that you were fat, so that he can beat them up right now. -You are honestly touched to see him be so angry and upset on your behalf, he is so pure with his praise and love for you. -Demands that you eat with him at the Maji burger at least once a week and that you try to finish the meal he buys for you.

Murasakibara

-Like Aomine, he doesn't has any suspicions regarding the behavior itself but he does notices you don't eat enough. -Murasakibara just cradles you confused in his arms as Himuro tells him what to do next as well as mention his suspicions about your restrictve eating. -Murasakibara honestly stares at you like you're an alien creature as he has to process the idea that people can hate food that much, thank god you're unconscious and you can't see his face. -He makes up his mind to be the person to cure you of that hate. -Dumps pretty much all candy and snacks he has on him on you the moment you wake up all the whilst giving you a look as sweet and pure as the candy itself. -He increases little habbits like feeding you, because clearly you need it.

Midorima

-Has been taking calculated notes of how much you eat, but is afraid of coming off too strong so he refrains from daring to ask the question. -When you faint he has the most perfect response ever, and manages to stay calm even though he is breaking down on the inside with worry. -Confronts you sternly but lovingly once you wake up, he only wants the best for you. -Reads multiple books on how to be a supportive partner. -Honestly he's adorable with how hard he tries to be there for you. -After the event, he prepares you a bento in the theme of your lucky item of the day, always. Even on the days you can't bring yourself to eat it, he doesn't minds and just hoped carrying the lucky item themed lunch brought you courage in different ways.

Kise

-Knows. Immediately. -As a model, he has far too much model contacts not to know about that dark side of the industry so he knows all the signs. -Is the only one to have confronted you about it before it got to the fainting stage. -Honestly he bawls like a baby when you faint in front of him, because this was exactly like he feared. -He manages to get the number of a great treatment program from another model that is combatting her own ED after you woke up again and got him to calm down. -Tries to feed you all the time whilst acting as cutesy as possible, full idol mode. Because he hopes it will do the trick. -He tries to uplift you by talking about his own insecurities, as being under the limelight does also open him up to scrutiny way more then the average person.

[0n3b0r3dguy]

DW X MLB LORE DUMP

@starlightwoofwoof WARNING: SHIT TON OF LORE AND YAPPING

Okay, time for a yap-a-thon for the hell of it. Glisten and Alga are two sides of the same coin, if that wasn't obvious from their similar means and reasons for akumatization. Glisten strives to be perfect, to be perceived as some confident, flawless person to others, despite his crippling autophobia and atelophobia. Alga is the opposite. He's tired of being known as this chivalrous gentleman who can't even change his appearance without literally killing himself! He wants to get his hands dirty, to be someone who has flaws, but he can't. Being a gentleman is permanently etched into his brain; he can try, but he can never fully change himself.

When Perfect is in play, he can project his insecurity about his imperfections onto others, forcing them to hyper-fixate on every little mistake and perceive themselves negatively, all while acting like an untouchable god. Dionysus, however, makes it so that everyone completely forgets anything about their worries. It's almost like Trickster Mode from Homestuck; they act so wild and giddy that it's downright unhinged and worrying, especially relationship-wise. Someone could do something to strain a relationship, like, oh, I don't know, break the other's wrist accidentally! (cough cough Dionysus with Finn, cough cough.) When the two of them are de-akumatized, they are essentially forced to suffer the weight of their guilt together. Glisten has the guilt of causing others to akumatize, and Alga has the guilt of harming his friends. Both of them thrust themselves into the same time of coping mechanism while going through this grief. Try to return to that same normalcy beforehand. It doesn't really work, and both of them are just stewing in their guilt. Only when they finally accept that hey, somethings can't be changed fully and no matter what, there's always going to be some bits of you that remain forever, and you don't have to be perfect to be good do they get over their grief and get their respective miraculous, Glisten with the snake Miraculous and Alga with the Dragon Miraculous. In terms of power, both of them are fucking swole. The reasons to become akumatized due to Perfect are slower; the reasons swallow you whole before spitting you out like you mean nothing. Meanwhile, Dionysus' reasons hit you hard and fast, like a freight train. You could blink, and everything fine and dandy before could turn chaotic and terrifying really quick. Admittedly, this is more a reason for someone to be handed a miraculous, but I can also see someone having a panic attack and getting akumatized because of Dionysus. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[heartfeltcherie]

is it raining? no, it's just rayn!

i am here to give you a hard time/j and request an eeeeny meeeny luci comforting reader during a panic attack? thank you so muchhhh!!

COMFORT ᡣ𐭩

❀ summary; lucifer comforts you through your first panic attack.

❀ what to lookout for; mentions of a panic attack, pet names, lucifer being a dork, lucifer trying to make you laugh (and it works).

❀ extra notes; i most definitely based this off when i had a panic attack for the first time. to anyone who struggles with anxiety or mental health in general, you're not alone! my ask box and messages are always open if you need someone to talk to <3

- you were both sat on his living room couch watching some random show on the television.

- then you started to feel… weird.

- tiny stars began to cloud your vision, you felt like you were losing control, nothing felt right.

“luci?”

he hums in response, still looking at the tv screen.

“i don’t know what’s happening to me…”

- that sentence made lucifer turn his attention away from whatever was going on on the screen to focus solely on you.

- he saw how you were beginning to hyperventilate and panic.

- you were having a panic attack. how did he know this? he’s been through his fair share of them.

“hey, hey, dovey…” lucifer takes a seat next to you. “tell me what you want me to do- need me to do”

“need… hug…” you say weakly through a sob. as soon as lucifer picks you up gently and places you in his lap, the damn inside you breaks and you’re sobbing into his chest.

- he comforts you to the best of his ability; taking you through all the grounding and breathing exercises that he, himself, has had to use to bring himself back from being lost in himself.

- he tells you to breathe while he counts to three and then tells you to breathe out slowly. then he guides you through the 54321 grounding exercise.

- he tries to be funny and asks you to name the names of his rubber ducks that he’s made. he gets you to giggle a bit at that which was more than worth it to him because at least he knows he’s making you feel better.

- by now you’re breathing is back to normal, you’ve stopped crying and you’re finally back to your normal self.

- and when you realize what just happened… oh, the embarrassment that creeps in.

“i’m sorry you had to witness me being… like that… i don’t know what came over me” you apologize, looking away from lucifer in embarrassment.

“hey,” he brings a hand up to gently cup your cheek, making you look at him. “there’s no reason to apologize, sweetheart. what you just went through was called a panic attack, and they can be… pre-tty intense”

“have you ever had them before…?”

“oh yeah, tons of times. i’m like… the panic attack pro” lucifer jokes and you chuckle at him.

“i’m not sure that’s something you wanna be a pro at, luci”

- after this, you and lucifer have a talk about what’s been on your mind lately and what could’ve driven you to go into panic mode.

- but he also makes sure to remind you that he’s always here for you to give cuddles, kisses and make you laugh afterwards.

- and that he’ll make comfort pancakes. for both you and him, because why not?

❀ word count; 476

reblogs/hearts/comments and all that good stuff are appreciated !

audience; @crystalrayn @drxgonspine @alastorthirsty @speedycoffeedelight

© heartfeltcherie

[dreamypqulson]

Hi :) i love your writing and was hoping you could do one wear Cordelia finds out y/n is sh on her thigh? Or something <3

— my love, mine all mine

pairing: cordelia goode x reader

word count: 1500

warnings: self harm & depression

note: i got this request during my break so it’s a little old but i still wanted to write it cause it fits with my life right now!!!

You stared blankly at your bloody thigh in front of you. With the blade still grasped in your hand you tried to breathe in, and hold for five seconds, and then let it all out. It would help they told you. It would take away the misery until you didn't feel like hurting yourself anymore.

But you laughed a little as you watched the blood drip. It felt good and that was the worst part. You wanted to keep going. You almost did. You wanted the thoughts to shut up for a minute. But right as the blade lightly touched your flesh, there was a knock at the door.

And it snapped you out of it for a minute. Really, how long were you sitting on the cold bathroom floor for? Had anyone really noticed your absence or do they just need to get into the bathroom?

"Mhm?" You hummed, shaky but nonetheless clear.

"Are you okay, darling? You disappeared on me." Right as you heard that sweet familiar voice, you bounced off of the floor. Frantically, you grabbed a tissue and applied pressure to the broken skin after hiding the blade in the back of the cabinet.

"Yeah, sorry. I'll be out in a minute."

Cordelia didn't know about what was going on. Of course, she knows you struggle with mental health, but she'd hadn't yet found out about your legs. And you weren't planning on telling her.

By the way that you spoke, she felt like something was wrong. And, naturally, she wouldn't back down. She needed to help you with whatever was wrong.

"Can I come in?" She jiggled the doorknob but it was locked. You don't ever lock doors.

The blood leaked through the thin tissue and you cursed under your breath. You couldn't clean up with a wash cloth right now. You wouldn't have enough time to hide the evidence.

You looked up at the door and your blood ran cold. Answer her! You have to answer her before she comes in!

You pulled your sweatpants back up and flushed away the bloody tissues down the toilet so she couldn’t see them in the trash. "I'm coming," you said, and at this point, you were out of breath from the verge of a panic attack.

You opened the door and Cordelia's eyes widened. You were clearly frantic and you tried so hard to not cringe at the feeling of your pants rubbing against your raw cuts.

"Are you okay?" She asked again, but now she's more suspicious. You just nod your head and walk right by her. She follows you as you throw yourself on the bed.

Something doesn't feel right to her, but she tries to make it better by laying beside you and kissing you. You started to giggle looking over at her and for a moment, you completely forget about everything that just happened. She does too.

It isn't until she looks down that her eyes widen. And you're always so cautious about getting caught that your heart immediately drops.

"Why are you bleeding?" She asks, and sits up. You sit up too, and that's when you notice the patch of crimson on your thigh. Of course you'd just happen to be wearing grey sweatpants.

"Shit," you angrily curse, and start to get up off the bed. "I'm not sure. I'll go check it out though."

You try to head towards the bathroom but Cordelia grabs your arm so you can't move. You're fucked and you know it. "No, y/n. Why are you bleeding? Do not lie to me."

You always want Cordelia when you're injured or sick, so it was unusual for you to go run off. And after you acting strange in the bathroom, she was starting to think that she knew what is going on.

"I'm not lying, Cordelia! Are you serious right now?" Your voice raised slightly, going into a defensive mode, but Cordelia was quick to calm you.

"Hey, shh, shh. None of that. Just be honest with me, sweetie, i'm not mad." She reached up and cupped your cheek. Your lip started to tremble and you couldn't hold back the waterfall of tears. You couldn't bring yourself to tell her. "Are you hurting yourself?" She asks gently.

All you do is nod, and the waterworks stream heavier down your face. You simply shatter and Cordelia wraps her arms around you like she's trying to hold every piece of you together. "Oh, my baby. Okay, shh. It’s okay," the blonde cooes in your ear, rubbing calming circles into your back.

Her warm arms and floral scent keeps you grounded. You feel safe. Maybe it is okay.  "Do you want to talk about it, my lovely? Or no?"

You shake your head. You're too tired, and you don't feel like explaining everything. It's too much, too heavy, and you feel too weak.

"Okay. That's okay. Can I at least clean them for you? I don't want my girl getting an infection."

For once you speak up a quiet, "yes that's okay," and it hurts but you know that you’re being too nonresponsive already and you feel like a lot of work right now.

Cordelia grabs your hand and brings you back into the bathroom. She waits for your permission with her fingers resting on the waistband of your sweatpants. She'd wait here forever until you were ready. But you feel like you’ve already wasted so much of her time.

You nod your head and then Cordelia starts to slide your pants down your legs and you want her to stop. You want to take your permission back but you can't seem to talk. You can't seem to do anything and, god, you feel like you can't even breathe.

She doesn't gasp when she sees your bloody thigh. Her face doesn't contort into disgust. She looks so soft and gentle and you wonder how someone could be so pure enough to love someone like you.

She lifts you onto the bathroom counter. You don't even notice that you moved at first.

And even as Cordelia was looking straight at the bloody cuts, you still felt the need to lie and tell her that you weren't hurting actually yourself. It didn't feel real. Almost like you were shoved into another persons body with all of these scars and hurt on it.

You notice Cordelia looking at your whole thigh, how she can see all the old scars there. It hurts the most for her to see recent ones. Ones she can tell have been from the past weeks, even days, and she had absolutely no clue about it until now.

"I want you to tell me, my love," she says, so softly, and smiles gently too like she's not talking about you hurting yourself. "Okay? Whenever you feel like this, come to me, baby."

You nod simply, like it's the easiest task in the world. But you're not sure that you'll be able to even do that. You can see the pain and worry on Cordelia's face beneath that smile, and you don't want to hurt her anymore.

She grabs your hand, holds it there tightly. She knows you always like to hold it when you're upset or nervous, or even when you get shots at the doctors. She doesn't need to tell you that you're allowed to squeeze it; you already know you can.

Cordelia dabs away the blood with a wet cloth. It sends a sting throughout your entire body. You squeeze her hand and bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. All Cordelia can say is, "I know, I know, baby. I'm sorry. I'm almost done." And you wonder why she's apologizing. I did this. I brought this on myself. It's my fault.

Cordelia gently applies some antiseptic to your cuts and then she adds some band-aids on top. They're not the boring tan ones either. They're colorful and it even puts a smile on your face because it's such a Cordelia thing to do.

"There we go. All better," she says, as if cutting yourself wasn't the scariest thing in the world for her. But right now it is all better. You're bandaged up and Cordelia is holding your hand and smiling at you. Right now you don't hurt as much.

She leans forward and places a kiss on your nose. You crinkle it up and giggle at her. "You're so pretty, ya know." And it's not a question. She's not asking if you know that you're pretty. Because she knows that you really don't think you are. Especially not like this. But it doesn't matter right now. She just needs you to know that she thinks it so then it has to be true.

You're gonna cry again because your heart feels so tender, but then Cordelia is talking again and you get lost away in her voice. "How about we go have some hot cocoa by the fire? You feel like a little icicle." She says it like nothing has changed. Like she hadn't just found out that you're really a danger to yourself.

And you nod because you're still the same person you were to her thirty minutes ago. You still love cuddling her by the fireplace with a cup of hot chocolate that she made you. That hasn't changed, neither has her love for you.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

What would it take to get the harsher skeles to let their guard down in a fight? Mentioning their brother, trauma stuff or anything that would even get a trigger out of them?

Underfell Sans - Red is a rock, it's hard to go through him, even by mentioning his brother, because, duh, Edge can perfectly defend himself. His main weakness is how long he can last in a fight. He's usually throws his stronger attacks first because he wants to scare the aggressor off, but, uh, that usually doesn't work in a long fight. Noticing he's getting tired is going to trigger him a bit, especially if the fight turns even more violent after that. Red is not a fighter, he's a survivor. He does his best to keep the illusion alive but can't do it forever.

Underfell Papyrus - Mentioning his brother triggers him, but... Uh... Not in a way people think. It makes him even angrier and good luck dealing with a really pissed-off Edge now. However, people knowing extremely uncommon knowledge about him can destabilize him. Mentioning how he's the only one who survived his cadet group, or how he's actually just scared of Asgore can break his concentration.

Horrortale Sans - Mentioning what Undyne did to him always makes Oak really angry, but when he's angry, he does a lot more mistakes in a fight. Oak hates to fight, he's not a fighter at all, but keep pushing and find out. He's unpredictable as even he doesn't know what the hell he's doing, which can either turn good for you or be your doom. I don't recommend threatening his brother though as it's pretty much sends him into berserk mode.

Horrortale Papyrus - Well, there's not a lot of things he can do in a fight to begin with, so when he has to fight, it's all an illusion to make people run away. Mentioning his brother will break his focus, but also mentioning how he looks, what happened in the Underground or just seeing blood, really. Willow is not suited to be a fighter anymore. He will always try to talk his way out of a dangerous situation before attacking anyway.

Horrorswap Sans - It's impossible to break him which makes him extremely dangerous. Alphys humiliated him so much that he just doesn't care anymore. If he starts to fight, either you run fast or you're dead.

Horrorswap Papyrus - Why would you even fight the poor baby? He can't do anything as forcing him into a fight is literally paralyzing him in complete fear. A wide gesture, mentioning his brother or what you want to do to him is enough for him to have a panic attack. You're a horrible person.

Horrorfell Sans - Definitely targeting his brother. Copper isn't doing as good as before with fights and he knows that even if his brother is tough, he's extremely limited in what he can do in a fight, so Copper will do everything for his aggressor to completely forget his brother and focus on him, even if it means running into the bullets volontarily.

Horrorfell Papyrus - Talking about his brother can destabilize him too. Chief is usually really stressed in fights, because he can't fight the way he used to do. He gets aggressive really fast, which makes him overuse his magic. He hates when people are trying to find his weaknesses. Making fun of the fact he's in a wheelchair though sends him straight into berserk mode. It's not because he's in a wheelchair that he can't kick your ass, far from that.

Horrorswapfell Sans - It's really difficult to break Bear's spirit when he's in a fight. He had been conditioned to fight his entire life, and even if he can't see anymore, he's scary good with his magic. He might get destabilized if you make fun of his blindness, but he grabs a hold on himself really fast and it doubles his anger. You have one chance, after that it's over.

Horrorswapfell Papyrus - The only subject that could destabilize him is if you know about his addictions and talk about them during the fight, which would really surprise him as he doesn't talk to anyone about this, not even his brother. Other than that, it's impossible to break his focus. Tiger is a scary soldier to fight.

Swapfell Sans - Nox is resistant to intimidation, but talking to him as Toriel's little dog might trouble him for a few seconds. But only a few seconds though. And, uh, that's a dumb thing to do as he will get angry, and angry Nox is not someone you want to fight.

Swapfell Papyrus - You can't touch him with his traumas if he thinks his traumas are a joke. Ah! Only his therapist can get under his bones, he's not taking anything else seriously. So unlike he's fighting his therapist, which is very unlikely, you can't break his defenses. He's going to annoy you though. He's so going to annoy you until you're the one who breaks and cry like a baby out of frustration.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Lol, you can still try to find something to trigger him, the chances are he's going to trigger you way before you can even say something to him. If you're not already dead, that is to say. You don't want to fight with Wine. Trust me, you really don't. He's playing with you and he is in control the entire time. He might give you the impression you are in control, but it's just to break you even more roughly the second you lower your guard. He's dangerous.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - I mean, you can be mean to him, that's very effective as Coffee is extremely sensitive. But, uh, you really don't want to be mean with Coffee. Because where there's an upset Coffee, there's a really fuckin pissed-off Wine nearby. Don't be dumb. You know it's a bad idea.

Mafiatale Sans - Pretty much insulting his mom. And he doesn't even have a mom. You just have to insult him to trigger him. The worst insult possible is if you bring how bad his magic tricks are in the talk. He will completely stop fighting to argue with you for hours lol.

Mafiatale Papyrus - I'm sorry, but if his mission is to kill you, he will completely ignore anything you say and focus on killing you. Creeper is not interested in socializing with the people he has to kill. What's even the point, you're going to die.

Mafiafell Sans - Hurting one of his dogs during the fight. Fang hates hearing his puppies whimper in pain and it might give you an opening to attack. But attack fast though because, depending on the severity of the injury, he's going to avenge his dog. And he's going to do it with his stronger attacks.

Mafiafell Papyrus - Flirt with him. It's the only way to confuse him enough time to run away. You have no chance against him, just take this opportunity and run for your life.

Error - Lightly touch his hand. And that's it, you're safe to run away. You can't really kill him anyway so it's best to retreat while he's bugging and screaming in agony like a drama-queen.

Killer Sans - Just scream "I know what you did" and wait as he's bugging out, wondering what he actually did. By the time he realizes that, wait, he didn't do anything! You're gone, that's too late. Well, that might piss him off though and he might one shot you the next time he sees you, but you can at least live for three more minutes, so it's still that!

Dustale Sans - Just talk to him, really. Either he's going to have zoomies, get defensive or randomly attack you for nothing. No one knows how this skeleton works. Your best chance is to randomly scream at him and then run away.

[sirfrogsworth]

Last week was crazy.

I honestly can't believe all of it happened in the span of a week. Well, I guess it was more like 10 days. But it was another... Alot.

It all started when I got my disability denial letter. I couldn't wait until I got into the house so I opened the envelope as I walked back from the mailbox. Once I saw the bad part I had an instant panic attack in my driveway.

I ran inside...

Okay, that isn't true.

I walked very quickly inside...

Nope, still not true.

Okay, I walked at my personal top speed which is probably still slow for most people... but the point I'm trying to make is that I was attempting to hurry despite only saving myself about 3 seconds of travel time.

But the hurrying made me feel better, okay?

Out of breath from my geriatric-style powerwalking, I called my lawyer's office immediately. And... he is on vacation. Won't be back until the next Thursday. I spent the entire weekend going through every panic state a body can feel. I go from angry to depressed to anxious to panicked to angry (again) to scared to more scared to extra more scared. Visions of homelessness danced in my head.

I can't sleep for over a day because my brain won't shut off. Finally my body gives out and I fall asleep on the couch watching random YouTube videos. But falling asleep on the couch is bad because I'm not hooked up to my CPAP machine. Then I finally do hook up my CPAP and my damned mask breaks. Thankfully it has happened before and I have a cool hot glue and duct tape solution. But it is hard to manage hot glue and tape when you haven't slept in days and your eyes will barely stay open. So a few burned fingers later, I am sleeping comfortably in my janky duct tape-laden CPAP mask.

Monday rolls around and I decide to go into problem solving mode. Problem solving is my superpower, so I was going to lean into that in an effort to reduce my anxiety. The denial letter said they had no records from before I was 22, so I put on my detective hat and began the hunt to prove I was sick before 2004. My aunt helped me dig through my mom's document drawer. I distinctly remember an essay I wrote to the disability people back when I first got sick. It was part of the paperwork they had me submit. It was a first hand account of my symptoms back in 2001. It also had an essay from my dad talking about how sick I was. I felt like if I could find that, the records surrounding it would all be related and from the same time period.

We go through the entire drawer and only find a few things that might be helpful. Then I realized my mom had a *second* drawer full of documents and my aunt was blocking it. So we start going through that and find a folder labeled "Ben's Disability Stuff." I would have never kept any of that stuff but my mom kept *everything* and it was all in chronological order.

She is still looking out for me.

And she may have kept me from being homeless.

We find the essay and records of my ECT treatments and the names of doctors and all kinds of evidence of my medical woes before 2004. And even if they won't accept it as direct evidence, I can use these documents to show doctors I was their patient. And my primary care doctor said he would be willing to talk to those past doctors to help me convince them to write a letter on my behalf. All they really have to say is they treated me for severe depression and fatigue. And because my mom kept a list of my prescriptions and my ECT treatments, I'm hoping that will be enough to convince them even if they don't remember treating me.

Wednesday I had my monthly checkup. And I got to peek at my main doctor's records from before 2004. It's all handwritten notes and a little hard to read (bad doctor handwriting is the most accurate stereotype in existence). But it clearly says I had depression and was undergoing ECT treatments. It even mentions one of the doctors I want to write me a letter. It's not a lot, but it is first hand, direct medical evidence from that time period. I think it will be very compelling to whoever reviews my case.

I also talked to the nurses/assistants in the office about copying my entire chart, and I thought we were on the same page, but as you will see later... we were not on the same page.

I exit the building and remember how far away I had parked. And once again I forgot to use my cane—even though I keep a spare in the car. The main lot was full and the disabled parking was occupied, so I had to park in the secondary lot. My legs were holding up so far, but it was already a lot of walking for me. Very slow walking.

His office is in the same complex as the hospital. Which is my next stop. It's the same hospital that I have been going to all of my life. And the hospital where both of my parents died.

But I need vintage medical records and that is where they keep them.

Or so I thought.

I drive from the medical office parking lot to the hospital parking lot and only the spots farthest away are empty. And because of goddamn global warming, it is 90 fucking degrees in late September. I park, lock my car, grab my man purse, and start hoofing it to the hospital entrance. I'm so nervous about getting these records that I forgot my damn cane again.

My thoughts are basically, "What if they only keep 7 years of records like everyone else? What if the records from Christian Northwest aren't kept with the records from Christian Northeast? (Christian NW doesn't exist anymore.) What if they won't send them to my lawyer? What if it costs a thousand bucks? What if, what if, what if..."

I get to the front desk and ask the lady where the records department is. She gives me directions that my brain is only capable of half paying attention to. Then I realized I left the records release form from my lawyer in the car. So I walk another half mile in the heat to my car without my cane. And initially, my thought was, "Well, at least I can grab my cane once I get the form." But by the time I got to my car my thought was, "AHHHHHHHHH THAT WAS A LONG FUCKING WALK. KILL ME!"

And so I forgot my cane.

Again.

I get back to the lobby and wave at the lady who gave me directions. I pretend like I remembered and confidently walk in the direction I recall her pointing to. I found the elevator. Thankfully this particular elevator only goes two places. Which seems like a waste of an elevator, but... whatever. I get off on the second floor and am met with a big sign with all the departments and little arrows next to them.

(I'm sure you knew what I was talking about but I'm trying to break up this wall of text with images because I am a professional blogger person.)

I see "Medical Records" and a leftward arrow. I used my keen detective skills to surmise I should probably veer left.

I find myself at the beginning of the world's longest hallway.

Without my cane.

And it is flooded with sterile florescent light and the walls are adorned with the world's most inoffensive art.

Here is a painting of a plant. Here is a painting of a bird. Here is a painting of a bird sitting on a plant. Wait, is that a... WATERFALL??

Suddenly Indiana Jones' voice shouts in my thoughts...

So, if you had to guess, do you think the records department was...

A.) near the beginning of the hallway? B.) in the middle of the hallway? C.) beyond the world's longest hallway in the world's second longest hallway?

As I enter the world's second longest hallway, I notice the art is repeating itself. I've seen that bird sitting on a plant before. I worried I was going in circles, but it turns out they probably just bought the inoffensive art in bulk and weren't concerned about repeats. I get about halfway down the second longest hallway and see a big sign sticking out... "MEDICAL RECORDS."

Note to God: The real world needs a fast travel mode.

I was a big sweaty mess and my legs were like jello. I lumber through the door and find a young woman scrolling through her phone and probably wishing she was anywhere else. She was behind a huge partition with a plexiglass divider—probably still there from COVID days.

I mean, it's still COVID days. But no one is acting like it so I am just pretending it is all over like everyone else seems to.

She notices an out-of-breath Hagrid towering over her and apathetically inquires, "Can I help you?"

I hold up a finger as I try to gain my composure and figure out exactly what I want to say. I usually rehearse this kind of thing beforehand but with all of the anxious thoughts spiraling through my brain, I totally forgot to do that.

"I need to ask questions about records." "What kind of questions?" "Well, how long are the records?" "I'm sorry?" "What year do they start?" "What year do you need?"

I'm suddenly realizing why I rehearse these things. So I take a moment and breathe deeply. I form the proper question in my mind.

"How far back do you keep medical records?" "30 years."

I shoot my hands up like I just scored a touchdown and say, "OH THANK GOD."

She is very confused.

"30 years, oh my god. 30 years just saved my life."

She is still very confused.

"And do you have records from Christian Northwest?" "Yes, we have everything from all Christian hospitals."

I try to give her a brief explanation of my situation and she cuts me off. "Fill out this form."

I look at the clipboard and it is a release form.

Do you remember way back when I walked an extra mile to and from the car to get a release form that my lawyer prepared? Well, turns out they have their own version of that and I walked all that way for nothing.

I finish the form and hand it to the bored, indifferent front desk lady. She tells me someone will be out in a moment. So I sit in the uncomfortable waiting chairs and try to rest a bit. A much tinier young woman walks to the front desk partition thingie and calls out my name. But due to her diminutive stature, she is completely obscured by a pillar and I have no idea where the voice is coming from. We do this little awkward dance on either side of the pillar, attempting to see each other, and finally we both end up on the same side. She starts looking over my form and seemed a little annoyed that I left a section blank. I wasn't sure what kind of records I needed and there was no box that said "everything everywhere all at once."

What I really wanted was any document with my name on it from the beginning of time.

But I was worried about asking for too much labor from this person so I started negotiating for some reason.

I was like, "Well, like, I really need like anything you have from before like 2004. And then maybe, like, some general records after 2004. Like, the pre-2004 records are super important. But, like, I also need to show I was sick all my adult life. So if there are like, summary records? Or, like, something?"

I couldn't stop saying like. I was turning into a Kardashian. Again, some rehearsal was probably warranted.

"I just don't want to be a burden and make you dig up all of my records. I mostly need my ECT records from 2001."

"What is ECT?"

"Shock therapy. It's for depression. I just need to show I was really sick before the age of 22."

"And who is this guy on the form?"

*ramble mode engaged*

"Oh, that is my disability attorney. You see, I'm trying to get a special kind of disability, but I need to prove I was sick before the age of 22. So anything like that before 2004 would be very helpful. But like, if you have less detailed records after 2004 that is good too. Because I may need to prove I've been sick my entire adult life."

*continued rambling until I notice she stopped paying attention*

She did not need to know all of this. And I was not answering the questions she needed answered. I was nervous and babbling and oversharing and I couldn't snap out of it. And I was really concerned if I asked for too much, she was going to be upset. But then she told me all of the records were in a warehouse and she would not actually be finding them for me. She just places an "order" for them. So this weird negotiation thing I was doing to keep her from being annoyed at me was pointless.

And I also realized... this is super important.

I yell at myself, "Ask for everything, stupid! Quit trying to get halfassed records because you're worried about inconveniencing someone."

Finally I just say, "I want every medical record you have from before I was 22 until now."

And she was like, "Sure."

Well... that was easy.

I thanked the tiny lady and the bored lady and exited back into the second longest hallway. My adrenaline was surging. I kept yelling, "30 YEARS!!" in my brain. I had to tell someone this amazing news. I had to tell them right that second or I might burst. So I grab my phone from my man purse and dial Katrina.

The thing is, I only call Katrina when something really bad happens. People don't make phone calls anymore. People text! So when she picked up the phone she answered with a very worried tone. As if somehow a third parent of mine died or something.

"THIRTY YEARS!!!!" "WHAT IS HAPPENING??" "They keep records for 30 years!" "OHHHHHHHHHH!!! That's amazing!"

She probably didn't hop for joy in real life, but in my mind I like to pretend she did. I start explaining everything that just happened and how they most likely have my ECT records and then I realize I am in the middle of the world's second longest hallway and I don't remember which direction leads back to the world's longest hallway. And because I am having unusual and extraordinarily good luck, a medical worker was walking by right at that moment.

"Which way back to the elevator?" "This way!" "Oh great! Thank you!" "Or that way. There are two elevators."

There is that normal luck I recognize.

I can feel the universe realigning itself. But that is okay, because...

THIRTY YEARS, BABY!

I talk to Katrina as I traverse the two longest hallways. Thankfully I was going in the correct direction and found the proper elevator. After a nice chat about various things including problematic 80s movies, we hung up and I decided to treat myself to a hospital cafeteria chicken quesadilla. They are surprisingly delicious and I ate them every single day while my dad was in hospice. Those quesadillas were a single bright spot during one of the hardest times of my life.

So I walk up to the grillmaster and look at the menu.

"Wait, where is the quesadilla?" "We stopped making those two weeks ago."

Universal realignment completed. Luck has returned to its original state.

A male nurse in front of me commiserated. "Yeah, man. I miss them too."

I walked back out to my car both happy and depressed. An odd combination of conflicted feelings. But my day was not over yet. I needed vaccines and groceries. Naturally, I went to the grocery store with the CVS. I got my dad his last booster there, so I was confident they could take care of me. I grab a shopping cart and pick up a few things on the way to the pharmacy. I get in line at the little vaccine check-in spot. The woman in front of me is getting her booster as well. Otherwise, the pharmacy is empty and the three employees are just scrolling through their phones.

After the previous booster seeker was taken care of, I tell the woman I need a booster and a flu vaccine.

"I can give the flu shot now and set an appointment for the booster." "You never required an appointment before." "We just started a few weeks ago." "Can I make an appointment for, like, now?" "No, sorry." "Do you have the booster in stock?" "Yes." "Do you have someone here qualified to give the booster?" "Yes." "Do you have any other appointments right now?" "No."

I tried very hard to keep my composure and remain polite.

"I am disabled. It is very hard for me to get out of the house. Returning another day would be very difficult. Can you please make an exception?"

"I can get you in tomorrow."

I probably should have asked for a manager at this point. But I had no energy for confrontation. She started preparing for me to get the flu shot, but I told her I was going somewhere else. My happy news was quickly being soured by weird rules that made no sense.

But I did see a cool robot.

I got my groceries and loaded them into my car. Some were frozen items so I made sure to turn the A/C on full blast. I called another pharmacy. It was the one run by the Jamaican family who came out to the house to give my parents boosters during the height of COVID. I asked if they could do walk-in vaccinations without an appointment. And in that beautiful accent, they replied, "Sure, come on by. We'll take care of you."

Their shop is in Ferguson. Which I'm sure the news has convinced people is a constant warzone or something. But the main street, West Florrisant, is actually really neat in spots. A lot of small businesses catering to the Black community. There was a soul food place and an African hair braiding place and a Taco Bell. Okay, it wasn't all Black-themed shops, but the pharmacy was directly next to the "Wumzy African Attire" tailoring shop that was combined with the party planning store.

And in the back was an African beauty supply depot.

Three shops in one! Just a very efficient use of space.

And looking through the window of the tailoring shop was like a feast of colors for the eyes. I don't know how they get fabric so bright and colorful. Really beautiful patterns too. I tried not to look like a creep while staring inside so I just walked reeeeeally slow toward the pharmacy entrance.

I just wish people knew that side of Ferguson. It's a beautiful community that was really dragged through the mud by the national media.

I digress.

I walked into the pharmacy and it was long and skinny. They had a few shelves with over-the-counter health products. But the main area was pretty empty. I guess they want to make sure they can accommodate long lines without people having to wait outside. But their working area seemed really cramped. There were some awards on the wall and news articles. Apparently, they are very involved with vaccinating the local refugee community. Something you won't see at pointless appointment-having CVS. I just felt like I was in the right place even if my frozen items were thawing and my legs were buckling from constantly forgetting my cane in the car.

The shop was run by the pharmacist and matriarch. Her son took my information. He looked about 18 and was a bit shy—but very kind and helpful. He directed me to this little partition they set up for vaccinations and they had a liquor bottle full of hand sanitizer. The label had a big "DO NOT DRINK" warning. I found a picture of the exact one on Google.

I washed my hands and rolled up my sleeve. The pharmacist greeted me with my shots prepared. Some people have a sort of magic touch when it comes to giving shots. I'm not sure if it is a special technique or just lots of experience, but aside from a little pressure, I didn't even feel the needles going in. And my arm was only mildly sore despite the double shots.

I really wanted to thank her for sending someone to vaccinate my parents when no one else would. But I was really tired and chickened out. So I just thanked her and drove home.

I unloaded my groceries and collapsed on the couch. I could barely move at that point. Everything hurt.

But... 30 years.

I was feeling good the next day despite everything. My body hurt, but my brain was contented from my success. But there was more to do and everything was trending downhill. I called those doctors mentioned in my personal medical records. I knew it was a long shot, but I asked if they kept records from 2001. They did not. However, I thought the psychiatrist who did my ECT was dead. And it turns out he is just old-as-heck and still practicing. So even though he doesn't have records and probably doesn't remember me, I am hopeful he will write me a letter.

My other psychiatrist from back then is also still practicing. No records there either.

So far my phone anxiety wasn't getting the better of me. But I still had more calls to make and I could feel my brain starting to get melty.

My pocket knife doesn't open correctly and I couldn't get anyone to email me back from SpyderCo. So I called their office in Colorado and tried to get someone to talk to me. I got bounced to three different people and finally a guy told me that model is just hard to open. So that was pointless.

Melt. Melt. Melt.

And finally, I had to call the dreaded CPAP supply place.

It did not go well. At all.

You can read more about it at that link, but the short version is I got angrily sighed at for asking reasonable questions about what the hell "chart notes" are. And the lady refused to answer those questions for no reason I can fathom. She eventually brought me to tears and got angry at me for doing so. And it turned out the call was pointless as well.

Oh, and my lawyer was sick. Remember him? Vacation guy? Who skipped town at the exact moment I got my disability denial letter? Yeah, I had been waiting for 7 grueling, anxiety-filled days to speak with him and he gets sick the day he returns.

Brain is melty goo.

Hey, Universe! I think you are overcorrecting with that luck realignment. I appreciate the 30 years of records thing, but can you let me enjoy it a little?

Friday arrives and I still have calls to make. The CPAP lady really messed up my brain and so just dialing the numbers was freaking me out. But I decided to start with the worst first. I called the CPAP lady and she finally had her precious "chart notes" and put my order through. She was cheerful and helpful and I was confused but thankful.

I thought maybe things were looking up in my phone call adventures.

My next call was to my primary care doctor's office.

One thing you need to know about my doctor is he is a bit of a... hot mess. A very smart, capable doctor. He knows his stuff. I suspect he has an eidetic memory due to his instant recall of medication names and doses and things that happened 8 years ago and detailed descriptions of medical conditions he only heard about in school 40 years ago. Aside from that, he is kind and compassionate and he has my back no matter what.

But he is technologically stuck in the 80s. His personal life is a roller coaster of drama. He once hired his girlfriend of 2 months to work at the office and his regular staff secretly whispered "She's so awful" behind his back. (They broke up soon after.) He is disorganized and constantly running late. And he takes on tons of frustrating patients because they have nowhere else to go. I admire him for treating so many poor elderly folks without any family to take care of them, but you can tell it is extremely challenging at times and a lot of that labor is delegated to his staff.

His office manager is probably the only person on the planet who can tolerate him being a hot mess.

Unfortunately, she is also a hot mess in completely different ways.

She tries to speedrun through everything. It's probably because she has a million things to do and is trying to fit 12 hours of work into an 8 hour workday. I try to be sympathetic and understanding of that. But one of her methods for speeding things along is attempting to use her psychic powers. You will start telling her what you need and she will do this thing where she cuts you off and tries to predict said need.

"I need a prescription for..." "Your thyroid meds are due, right? I'll send it over to the pharmacy." "...insulin. But I have a question about..." "So thyroid and insulin? No problem. I'll send it over." "...increasing my dosage." "Wait, what's yer question, hon?" "Was it 50 units..." "No, it's says 100. Okay? I'll send it over. Take care." "...twice per day or 100 units once in the morning?"

Often her predictions are so bad that it actually takes a lot more time to correct her than it would if she had just let you finish speaking. And this is especially problematic for me because I rehearse everything I need to say and she constantly interrupts and so I have to end up improvising new things to say that I never accounted for. And I'm already anxious and not thinking clearly so I do a poor job of explaining my needs and it just ends up in disaster.

So I have a complicated situation. I need my entire written chart copied and sent to my lawyer. I know it is a lot of work for the office staff. They probably have to copy several hundred pages. But this is probably the most important evidence in my disability case. And my lawyer has already volunteered to pay the several hundred dollars it will cost. It's worth it because if my case goes well, I could get years of back pay.

I call and get the young woman whom I really like on his staff. She is very quiet and unassuming but secretly the star of the office. Like a ninja of competence. If you really need something done properly without mistakes, she is the best one to go to. But her job does not include handling the records, so she transfers me to the office nurse. The office nurse does not process new information well. You often have to explain things several times. And if she gives up trying to understand, she hands you off to the office manager.

The Final Boss, if you will. I was really hoping I could avoid that.

"Okay, so my lawyer needs all of my written records..."

"He needs to fax a form saying what he needs, okay honey?"

"He already faxed a release form asking for records and I brought in a new copy yesterday with all of his mailing information..."

"He didn't fax anything. He needs to tell us what he needs. I'm not seeing any form. Just tell him to call me."

"He is out sick today and he already faxed the form and I brought a second one just in case. I signed it and dated it and I watched Competence Ninja put it in my chart. It asks for everything..."

"Okay, I see it here. This doesn't look right. He needs to tell us what he needs us to send him."

"It says in the letter, 'to release any medical information, including medical records, written letters, treatment reports, testing results, or similar information.' Should it say something different?"

"I've been doing this 20 years and I've never seen anything like this. He needs to be more specific. I ain't sending him all that, hon."

"So, this is for my disability case. I already talked to the nurse about this. And I know it is a lot, but the doctor's records are the only direct evidence that I've been sick since 2001."

"So you just need something from 2001? Okay, the lawyer needs to fax something saying that."

"I need the entire handwritten chart copied and sent to the lawyer. We need a full record of my illness because..."

"This is ridiculous. You're lawyer is fucking lazy. I've never seen anything like this. And I'm worried he is not going to represent your interests."

"This is not a normal disability claim. If you'd allow me to explain I think you'd understand why I need..."

"Disability should already have all this. We shouldn't need to send this. This is fucking ridiculous and you need a new lawyer. You're going to lose your case with his lazy ass."

"This isn't normal disability. I need to prove that I've been sick for a long time and..."

"This is going to cost a fortune, you know? We charge 50 cents per page. You're going to be out hundreds of dollars."

"Okay, but I will be out thousands of dollars if I don't get this copied."

"Fuck it. I am going to copy this ONCE. No more after this. UNDERSTOOD?"

And... she hung up on me.

My heart was beating out of my chest with panic and my eyes were blurry with tears. And in that moment, I thought I had done something wrong. My doctor gave me his personal mobile number so I call him up with tears apparent in my voice. I explain what just happened and that I was really sorry and that I didn't mean to upset her. He told me she is "just like that sometimes" and I shouldn't take it to heart. They have a very serious deadline for something due that day and she was very upset and I was collateral damage. I asked him to apologize for me and he said there was no need. He said we'd work it all out on Monday when this deadline wasn't stressing everyone out.

It wasn't until I calmed down a bit that I realized I did absolutely nothing wrong. That she was just being a big jerk and taking her other problems out on me. And I was probably the one deserving of an apology. I also remembered this is not the first time she has blown up at me. She was the one who tried to make me get a ventilator instead of a proper CPAP machine years ago. She said, "My mom has one and it works fine." And I was like, "So if I travel I'm supposed to take 12 pounds of medical equipment instead of a 1 pound device that fits neatly into a backpack?"

I get why my doctor made excuses for her. She works very hard and puts up with him. He'd never be able to find anyone that would last a week doing that job. And I have a feeling he probably defended me after I called. I played what he said back in my brain and noticed a frustrated tone. Despite what he said, it seems clear he was pissed.

I can make amends and figure things out with her. That isn't an issue. But I am worried that between her and CPAP lady, all of the progress I've made trying to reduce my telephobia was erased. I really was getting better calling people. I used to need Katrina hanging out on Skype while I called anyone as moral support. And while it still helps, I've gotten a lot better at calling strangers on my own. But now, I'm not so sure.

I might ask if there is an office email address I can use from now on. If I can write out what I need there is no way to get interrupted. I can be clear and detailed and use my writing skills to communicate way better than my phone skills.

I don't know.

It was just a crappy way to end a stressful, exhausting week.

But it wasn't the end!

Friday evening my sick lawyer finally called. I had rehearsed all kinds of things I wanted to say to him. But it turns out, all of my emails already did most of the talking—proof that I write a great email. He was really impressed with all of my detective work. And he said if those records pan out, he is very optimistic about my case going forward. He also said that he was expecting a denial. And it was probably good that we got that out of the way quickly. And now we get to mount more of a defense, which is what lawyers are good at. We talked for about 20 minutes and came up with a battle plan. He explained the process going forward. But he mentioned one thing that worried me.

This could take a while.

A lot longer than I was expecting.

I explained that I currently have a runway until about June 2024. That's when the mortgage money runs out. However, my brother should be willing to release my inheritance in March. I hope. I have a hard time trusting anything my brother says anymore. But if he does, then I should have another year of mortgage payments. But I am definitely going to have a Plan B just in case my brother finds a new way to disrespect my father's wishes.

The lawyer said there is a quick thing and a long thing. The quick thing has a low chance of success. But it is worth trying. The long thing is a hearing with a Social Security lawyer. He said a lot of these lawyers are miserable and don't want to be there and don't really care. Which is a good thing because they'll just be like, "Fine, whatever." But it can take a long time to get a hearing due to backlogs.

So, as long as I can gather all the evidence and the hospital records have my ECT stuff, I think there is room for hope. A little hope. After years of chronic illness I know hope is sometimes dangerous. So I allot a tiny bit of hope to keep me going forward, but not enough hope to leave me devastated if things go tits up.

So... umm... I think that is the end of this novel of a post. I feel bad that I don't have a big climax or twist or cliffhanger. Should I add a big CGI dragon fight?

Even though a more down-to-earth kung fu fight with my brother would be a more satisfying conclusion?

Or I could pull an M. Night Shyamalan and reveal that I've been dead for quite some time.

This post is getting really long.

Why are you still reading this?

I am thankful that you are. I just needed to get all of that out. I hope I wrote it in a compelling way and you weren't bored.

I love you all.

[ciaossu-imagines]

Sorry this doesnt use any of the event prompts but how do the Vongola tenth guardians and tsuna handle their Significant Other having a bad panic attack?

It’s completely fine that this doesn’t use any of the event prompts 😊 As mentioned, even when the event is ongoing, I’m taking regular requests as well! Thanks for sending in something and I hope you’ll enjoy the headcanons!

Tsuna

I’ve said it several times, but I do think that, when it comes to his romantic partners, Tsuna is very attentive and observant. He’s noticed that his partner seems more stressed than normal. He’s noticed that their emotions seem to be running higher than normal. He’s noticed all those things and he has tried to help in whatever ways he can. He does try to do little things to cheer them up or to take extra stress off them. He makes it clear that he’s there if they need to talk and he’s probably listened to them vent a little. He tries to be sympathetic and he tries to give advice. However, he’s also not going to push them too hard to talk to him and he won’t push them to open up to him. He doesn’t want to add to their stress by making them feel like he’s pressuring them.

He’s also noticed that no matter what he does, it doesn’t really seem to help his partner. They still seem stressed, sad, upset, whatever little bits of behaviour his partner shows before they get to the point where they’re liable to break down or have a panic attack (something that is a little different for everyone, so I don’t want to go too hyper specific here). Tsuna is quick to notice and internalize the fact that, no matter how hard he tries, he can’t really seem to help his partner. Tsuna is someone who does have the tendency to take the weight or responsibility for other’s feelings onto his shoulders, especially those who are really close to him. Because of this, he’s carrying some guilt already for not being able to do enough for them.

So, when Tsuna walks in on his partner having a panic attack or when, during a seemingly normal day, they just kind of melt down beside him and go into full-blown panic attack mode, he’s definitely taking it really hard. There is that slightly selfish part of Tsuna that makes his partner’s panic attack all about him. He doesn’t make it super obvious in the moment, when he’s more focused on his partner, but he definitely does blame himself for his partner getting to that point. He should have pushed them harder to talk to them. He should have done more for them. He should have found a solution to all his partner’s problems. Even if it’s completely unreasonable for him to think this way, he does. Once his partner is calmed down, and in the days after their panic attack, Tsuna is likely to apologize to them several dozen times for just not being enough or for anything he might have done to cause their panic attack.

In the moment of the actual panic attack though, Tsuna does try his best. He’s low-key panicking himself because he doesn’t know what to do. He’s scared of making things worse and it’s killing him to see his partner in such a state. Any time his partner cries hurts Tsuna, but this especially does, where they sound like nothing in the world could ever be okay again. Tsuna is so out of his depth.

I think, in the moment where his partner is having that panic attack, Tsuna tries to establish some sort of physical touch or affection. He hopes that will make his partner feel loved or soothed. So, he’ll hug them, hold their hands. He’ll keep asking his partner what’s wrong and, since they seem to be having breathing, he’s encouraging them to breathe. Deep breaths, in and out, right? He’s telling them to calm down, that everything is okay. He knows his words aren’t the right ones, but he doesn’t know the right words so he can only say these false platitudes and super generic things.

Once his partner is calmed down enough that they seem to be breathing okay and their tears have either dried up or calmed down to the point where they’re mostly silently calming, Tsuna just focuses on getting his partner out of public and back home, should they have been out together when the panic attack happened. He wants them to be in a place that is the most comfortable for them. If Tsuna was visiting his partner when their panic attack happened, he’s excusing himself. He figures that they probably need some time alone after something that seemed so exhausting. He’s making sure they’re comfortable and as well taken care of as he can and he assures them that he cares about them. He lets them know he’ll check on them the next day and to call him if they need anything at all from him.

Gokudera

The thing about Gokudera, within a romantic relationship, is that he tends to be kind of more reactive to his partner’s emotions. He’s still observant enough to notice them and he does genuinely care about his partner’s feelings and wellbeing, but he’s very strongly influenced by his partner’s emotions as well. If his partner is really stressed and emotional, especially emotional in that they’re dealing with a lot of negative way, that influences Gokudera’s own emotions. He wants to help his partner out and he wants to be there for them, he wants to be strong for them, but their sadness, their frustration, their negativity is reflecting and bouncing back off of him. In some ways, it’s made even worse by the fact that Gokudera will feel a little impotent in some ways. He prides himself on being strong enough to keep his partner safe and happy. He prides himself on being good enough for them and his partner’s constant negativity or sadness makes him feel like he’s failing. That gets his own hackles up and he’s likely to reply to his partner’s big emotions with anger, frustration, and sharpness. It’s not that he’s not trying or that he wants to behave that way, but his own emotions are hard for him to handle and he finds his temper hard to handle even at the best of times.

Both Gokudera and his partner are feeling a lot of strain within their romantic relationship during this period of time. Things are tense between them, they’re not connecting well, there’s a lot of bickering. They both still really love each other and they’re both trying hard to be better for each other, but that tension is high and that strain is felt distinctly by the both of them. All that tension and worry around their romantic relationship probably actually pushes Gokudera’s partner even further towards complete breakdown and helps push them into small panic attacks on their own time.

Eventually something breaks and it’s during one of those bickering sessions that Gokudera’s partner just goes full spiral into a bad panic attack. It’s severe and all consuming. They feel like they can’t breathe…it’s like an elephant is sitting on their chest. Their head is swimming. They’re feeling so much but they can’t think of any words to express any of them. They don’t know what to say and that’s frustrating. They’re crying hard enough to physically hurt and on top of all that, there’s this overwhelming, pure, terrifying fear that’s consuming their mind.

Honestly, Gokudera doesn’t deal with this the best internally. There’s some resentment on his part. He feels a little manipulated by his partner, like they’re weaponizing their feelings against him in the moment and in the aftermath, that is going to be something him and his partner will have to work out.

In the moment, how Gokudera deals with his partner’s panic attack will come across as quite harsh. He has a very tough love approach in this situation, where he does love his partner but he really needs them to calm down and get control of themselves so that things can be handled and solved. He’s going to make them sit down if they weren’t already. He will hold them down if need be. He’s making them focus on him. If they can’t meet his eyes, that’s okay, but they need to listen to him. He’s going to walk them through deep breaths to pull them out of their hyperventilating. “Yeah, that’s it. In…and…out. You got it. Just keep breathing. You’re okay, you’re safe, there’s nothing to be scared of.” He’ll wait until his partner is breathing right and they’re mostly quiet, their tears mostly dried. He’ll get them Kleenexes and a cup of water, keep a careful eye on them until they seem okay. When they do seem okay, he’s going to ask plain out if there’s anything else they need. He needs simple, clear instructions on what they need from him. He doesn’t want to discuss the panic attack, he doesn’t want to get into the emotions on either his or his partner’s part, not right then. He wants clear, actionable things to focus on in that moment. Once he’s satisfied all those clear and actionable moments, he will make sure his partner is comfortable and settled and then he will leave. He needs time to himself and space to get his own emotions under control and figured out.

In some ways, Gokudera does have a really healthy approach to this. He can and will draw healthy boundaries in that he realizes and makes clear to his partner that he is not their therapist. He’s not their mental health counselor. He’s not in charge of or responsible for managing their emotions, their panic attacks, or their mental breakdowns and it’s unreasonable for them to expect that of them. He gets that they have mental health issues but he expects them to be responsible for their own shit. He loves them, but if they want the relationship to continue, they need to start therapy, they need to work on their mental health, they need to learn proper coping mechanisms, and they can’t just melt down on him like that.

Yamamoto

Despite coming across as a little bit of an airhead at times, Yamamoto is surprisingly perceptive. He knows that his partner has a lot going on and that they’re not doing as well as they pretend they are. Even though his partner is likely putting on a really good face in front of him, smiling and pretending nothing is wrong, he knows it’s not entirely true. But he figures his partner is hiding it for a reason and that they’re just not ready to talk about it with him. He sees no point in pushing them to come out with it, not when they simply seem stressed or a little despondent. He trusts that they’ll talk to him if things are really bad, especially since he’s always been a good partner to them and has demonstrated time and time again that he’s a safe place for them and someone they can trust.

So, while it’s definitely going to shock him in the moment, it’s not completely and utterly unexpected on Yamamoto’s side when, in the middle of what was just a fun date, his partner gets overstimulated or overwhelmed by some situation, something they overheard, a text they got, something that was said, and all of a sudden there’s the heat, the pressure, the flood of emotions. They can feel the start of a panic attack coming and they’re trying hard to hold it off but they just can’t, not this time.

Yamamoto is very concerned about his partner. He’s super tuned in on them and the only thing in his mind is getting them someplace quieter, safer feeling for them, and making sure they’re okay. He’ll take their hand and he’s whispering or speaking really softly, trying to make his voice very gentle and soothing. He’s asking if they’re okay to walk or if they need him to piggy back them. If they can’t answer, Yamamoto will plain out just pick up his partner and he’ll carry them to a quiet area where they can sit – a park bench where nobody else is really around, the side of a hill by the river far enough away from the foot traffic that his partner’s state isn’t going to be noticed by most.

His first priority is making sure his partner, now that they’re sitting and are in a place that’s a bit more quiet or a bit safer feeling for them, is not physically hurt in any way. He’s visually checking them over, his hands gentle on their skin as he turns their arms side to side, brushes their hair back to look for any possible scrapes or scratches, things along those lines.

“Nothing hurts body wise? It just hurts inside?” he double-checks with his partner. Once they nod, he sighs a little, never taking his eyes off them before he wraps them up in his arms, pressing their face into his chest. “It’s okay. I got you. Cry it out as much as you need to. I’m not going anywhere.”

Ryohei

Ryohei in the face of a partner’s panic attack? Absolutely useless, really. Ryohei loves his partner, there’s no doubt about that, but when it comes to handling big emotions, particularly negative ones, Ryohei isn’t the best at doing that. He’s not prone to those big, negative emotions. Sure, he feels sad sometimes, but he tends to push it down or use it to motivate him to surpass his limits, to become better. He’s got a temper and knows anger, but again, it’s something he changes into a feeling of motivation. He’s not going to be able to connect well to his partner’s stress, frustrations, or large negative emotions.

I think he definitely tries his best. Ryohei puts his all into supporting and caring for his partner. Even before the panic attack happened, when it was just his partner struggling with their emotions or situations that were overwhelming to them, he’s doing everything he can to support them and cheer them on. He’s being endlessly positive and refuses to let them see any frustration or negativity from him. He’s pointing out everything they’re doing well; he’s telling them he’s proud of them. He’s offering his shoulder to lean on and encouraging them to tell him anything he can do to help. He’s giving it his all.

But his all isn’t really cutting it. His partner still, due to some little thing just breaking the camel’s back, gets hit hard with a panic attack out of nowhere and boy, does it freak Ryohei the fuck out. Legit, Ryohei gets scared. He doesn’t know how to handle this; he doesn’t really fully get what’s going on. His partner is melting down, they’re crying, they’re hyperventilating, they’re just spiraling out of control.

Ryohei is really paralyzed for a moment. His brain just stops for a moment. God, there’s something that breaks in him, even if just for a moment, seeing someone he cares about in such a state. Normally, he could just fight whatever caused his loved ones harm. He can just use his muscles, his fighting spirit, and get rid of the problem. But he can’t fight a panic attack. It’s simply impossible.

He’s a little all over the place. He’s a little panicked too. He doesn’t know what to say so he’s just telling them to calm down, that they’re okay. He’s giving all the platitudes and support that he’s already given. He keeps asking, over and over and over, what’s wrong and the harder it becomes for his partner to really answer, the louder his questions get.

Ryohei is going to make any panic attack his partner has a little worse, honestly, in how he reacts to it. It’s part of why I do believe that Ryohei really isn’t a great match for someone who has the sort of mental illnesses that leaves them susceptible or prone for panic attacks or big bouts of anxiety.

Lambo

While not quite to the levels of someone like Ryohei or Hibari, Lambo doesn’t really deal with a partner’s panic attack exceptionally well either. Or well at all, to be honest.

Lambo is a loving partner, but he’s not always the most observant or perceptive partner. He can be a little self-centered in a lot of ways and though he wants and does his best to spoil his partner and give them all kinds of love, support, and affection, he’s not always paying the closest attention to all the little things about their lives, the littlest subtleties of how they express themselves, the little things that suggest they’re hiding something or putting up a happy front. Those are all things that, unless they’re very obvious and in his face, Lambo won’t always pick up on.

Because of this, his partner’s panic attack is coming out of nowhere to Lambo. It’s like one second they’re completely fine and then the next they’re sobbing and melting down on him. It freaks him out and he falls into panic himself. He keeps saying sorry over and over, convinced that it must have been something he said. He’s flustered, his hands fluttering around. He’s almost touching them and then he’s pulling away as it occurs to him that he should find them a handkerchief. He’s a little all over the place because there seems, in his mind, about a million things he should be doing at the moment to comfort his partner and make everything okay.

He either digs up a handkerchief out of his pocket or finds the nearest thing to Kleenex, whether its actual tissues or even just a roll of toilet paper and he’s pressing it into their hand. He can see they’re crying hard; there’s a lot of snot, there’s some drooling. As someone prone to huge crying fits, even as he grows, he knows how uncomfortable that can feel and he imagines they have to want to clean themselves up.

“Come now, kitten. Dry your eyes. It’ll be okay, I promise,” he’ll be saying as he pats their head, their shoulders, tries to hug them. “I’m so sorry! I’ll do better!”

Hibari

Yeah, no. This is a hard no when it comes to Hibari. Plain out and out, capital letters needed, NO.

Much like Gokudera, and even to a further degree, Hibari has very clear boundaries about what he will deal with when it comes to relationships with others and especially within a romantic relationship. He expects his partner to be able to handle their own shit, to deal with their emotions in ways that are either healthy or seem okay within how Hibari views the world. That is their responsibility.

Honestly, in some situations, I can see Hibari walking in on his partner having a panic attack and just turning around and leaving, giving them the respect of letting them get themselves together and under control without having someone else witness it all. To him, that is truly a sign of respect and it is a compassionate response from him, in his opinion.

There are also situations where, if his partner is melting down in public, just going completely out of control, I can also see Hibari walking up and kind of gently just smacking them upside the head with his tonfa. It’s not enough to do any serious damage but they can feel it. With all the command he can put behind his words, which with Hibari is a lot, he’s going to tell them to calm down. “Get a hold of yourself. This is a pathetic look for you. I don’t recall having any pathetic herbivores in my life.”

[actual-changeling]

see what most people do not understand about trauma recovery is that it never stops. there are no breaks, no off-time, no designated days for recovery and then the rest of the week is psychological free time.

recovery is 24/7. it is every single choice you make, every single thought you think, every single emotion you feel. i am trying to build person and a reality from scratch, one wrong thought can send me down a multiple weeks long spiral that will mentally devastate me.

you need to constantly reaffirm wobbly beliefs, which requires grounding and good, functional coping mechanisms.

i can be walking, feeling fine, and then i hear an electric car and suddenly i need to repeat the year and place over and over and stave off a panic attack.

i can have a great week and then one nightmare ruins the month. i need to break a myriad of habits i developed to survive. i need to convince my brain and body that we're safe now, that i do not need to tiptoe around my own flat, that i can sit on the kitchen floor and won't get screamed at.

"just break bad habits" try breaking habits when even just thinking about doing so makes you go into survival mode because you are convinced any divergence from your routines will result in physical and mental pain.

it's exhausting. it's constant. it is entirely unfair because none of this is my fault, but now it is my responsibility to fix it.

and then people still have the fucking guts to look me right in the eye and tell me i am not trying hard enough.

[revelboo]

oof ouch ough that angst HURT please madam i'm begging you don't make that canon i'm gonna puke if i have to watch all the idw bots suffer like that - oh god and the tiny baby newsparks would be doomed, either their carriers will die trying to sustain them or they'll fade away, i hate it!!!!

you even used my suggestion of kitten-twins against me... ow. to heal my heart, may i request more of cyclonus and tailgate? hopefully their human's fear will fade into numbness then acceptance quickly, it'll be hard to stay in hypervigilant prey mode when tailgate's doting on reader like a little princess.

Yeah, that angst fic isn’t cannon. I like drama, but I couldn’t actually do that to any of them.

Chain Me Free Pt 3

Tailgate x Reader x Cyclonus

• The terror had faded some after seeing the smaller robot monster, Tailgate you remind yourself, have a nervous breakdown because you were upset. That uneasy fear is still there, nerves jangling, but Tailgate seems bent on overwhelming you with attention until you’re too frazzled to be terrified. You half suspect he’s decided you’re either his personal teddy bear or a beloved puppy. Neither prospect particularly awesome. Legs swinging as you hang on to the arm around your middle tucking you against his frame while he jogs to keep up with the scary one’s, Cyclonus’s, longer stride. Though after watching him calming Tailgate and talking him through what you’re positive was a panic attack, you suspect he’s probably a big softy. Even if he spends a lot of time just frowning at you, they’ve yet to hurt you. That has to be a good sign.

• “Cyclonus, wait up.” Reaching out his free hand, he catches Cyclonus’s hand and the bigger mech finally slows down for him. Interlacing his servos with Cyclonus’s, he shifts you to settle on his hip, feeling those warm hands on his arm. “How are they supposed to get their bearings if you go through the ship so fast?” Can feel your little heart beating against him, the rhythm oddly soothing. Knows Cyclonus is annoyed with him, wanted to give you to someone else, but you’d come to him. Them. And he can’t believe that it was truly random, wants it to be more than a coincidence. That you’re meant to be with them.

• “If you ever let them actually walk, they’ll probably get under ped,” he mutters, feeling Tailgate’s servos tighten on his own in offense. You’re not screaming at least, just dangling and looking around with an almost dazed expression. Still in shock over finding yourself in a strange place among aliens. Feels sorry for you, but he has enough to deal with taking care of Tailgate. Doesn’t need an alien stray.

• “Being small doesn’t automatically make someone a burden,” Tailgate growls, shifting you on his hip again. Like you’re a toddler and his grip is much too tight. Looking around, you feel almost numb, because his rambling explanation had only made things worse. You’re on a ship in space hurtling away from your home and they don’t know when they’ll be able to get you back. They also can’t fully explain how you’d ended up here, your brain filing his excited jabbering under ‘magic.’ And you tense when you see an even bigger gray mech, but it’s the glimpse of a human cradled in his palm, holding onto his servos as he cups them to his chassis that startles you. That person smiling up at the giant and laughing at something he’s said before spotting you and waving with a grin. And they seem okay. That more than anything else breaks through the lingering fear as your own hand weakly lifts, then they’re gone, carried away by their mech.

• “I’m not going to run if you let me walk,” you say, head turning to look at him and Tailgate hesitates. Because as much as he hates it, Cyclonus has a point. Not all the bots on board remember to look down and you’re tiny. Much smaller than he is. “You’re squishing me a bit,” you add, expression pinched and he stops in dismay, awkwardly shuffling you until one of his arms is behind your back and the other behind your knees. “This works,” you murmur and you offer him a hesitant smile that spreads warm through him as he ignores Cyclonus’s tired venting.

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[theadventuresofalittlebug]

🍼Sippies and Stories📖

little!Amity with Caregiver!Lilith fic for @jacksdinonuggets

(also this ended up less hurt/comfort and more fluff but oh well)

When Amity got to the Owl House she was already feeling somewhat small. She had a hard day and needed a serious break.

When she had got home from school her mom was in a bad mood, and she immediately sent Amity to “clean up the living room and get out of her way”. By the time she was finished with that she was too tired to do any of her homework. Feeling overwhelmed she decided to go see Eda and Luz, and maybe have some small time.

“Eda? Luz?” She knocked on the door.

“They’re not home” Hooty hooted, and she leaped back, alarmed.

“Oh… uh, I’ll be going then.” She said awkwardly, never quite sure what to say to the house demon.

Just as Amity was about to turn around and leave the door opened. When Amity looked back, confused, she saw Miss Lilith.

“Come on in Amity!” Lilith said. It was still strange seeing her so cheerful and, well, not strict.

“Oh, um… okay…” she responded.

When they were inside she stood awkwardly until Lilith gestured to the couch, she sat down gratefully.

“Eda, Luz, and King are in town shopping, they’ll probably be back in a couple hours.” Lilith told her, a bit apologeticly, “did you need anything?”

Amity wasn’t sure how to respond to that, she had regressed in front of her old mentor a few times before, but never like this. Any time she had been little around Lilith it had been entirely involuntary, caused by a panic attack or a traumatic situation. Now she was slipping, but she wasn’t small yet, not really.

“No… um, not really.” She finally answered.

“Okay.” 

They sat in awkward silence for a while, Amity trying and failing not to slip further.

“Would you like something to drink?” Lilith finally asked.

She did, but she was feeling quite small already and she wasn’t sure if she could drink from a normal glass without spilling it. “No thank you.” She answered quietly.

She just wished Eda or Luz were here, she wanted to be held, to have her paci or a sippy cup, to have someone read Otabin to her, but she couldn’t ask Lilith to do that, they weren’t that close really, and she didn’t want to be a bother.

Instead she curled her legs up to her chest and hugged them, burying her face in them trying not to cry.

“Amity, honey, are you alright?” Lilith asked gently, clearly realizing she had slipped, and immediately going into “caregiver mode”.

She mumbled something like “maybe”, but the words caught in her throat and instead she just let out a quiet whine.

“Oh honey… are you feeling small?” Lilith guessed, correctly.

“Nuh-un” she mumbled unconvincingly.

“Amity… you know you can tell me if you’re feeling small, right?” Lilith reassured, “you aren’t being a bother or making things hard for me, I like caring for you.”

Amity looked up from her knees, eyes big and teary, “rea-really?” She squeaked out.

“Really, Honey, I really do.”

“Well… maybe… may’ee I feel a little small…” she admitted.

Lilith smiled at her, “thats good Honey, are you sure you don’t want a snack or a drink?”

“Okay… cou’d I have some milk…?” Amity asked cautiously.

“Of course. In your sippy?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” 

Amity whined in protest and reached for Lilith, not want to be alone, even for a moment.

“No, no, it’s okay Honey, you can come with.” Lilith reassured. She leaned over and lifted Amity off the couch and into her arms.

They walked to the kitchen quietly, when they got there Amity was set on the counter next to Lilith, who carefully poured milk into Amity’s abomination sippy cup while talking to her gently. She put away the milk, screwed on the lid, then lifted Amity onto her hip and brough both her and the sippy cup back to the living room. She sat down on the couch with Amity on her lap and passed her the sippy cup. 

“Otabin?” Amity asked.

“Huh? You want your Otabin plushie?” 

“Nuh. You ‘ead Otabin.” Amity corrected.

“Oh, yes, I can read Otabin to you.” Lilith said. She set Amity next to her and retrieved the book from the shelf.

As she sat back down Amity yawned and leaned into her side, Lilith smiled as she opened the book.

“Alright, here we go.” She began “Otabin spend his days alone amongst the many books he'd sewn. With needle and thread...the pages he'd mend. But all the while…”

About an hour later Luz opened the door, King and Eda in tow. 

“Hello! We’re home- oh” she quickly turned around and made a “shh” gesture. She and the others tiptoed in to find Amity asleep curled into Lilith’s side, Lilith was reading quietly, and Otabin and a half finished sippy of milk were discarded on the table in front of them. She smiled and they quietly walked to the kitchen to put away the groceries.

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

BNHA - A Quirk That Can Do Anything

A/N: This was originally posted on my Patreon some time ago, so be sure to think about pledging over there to see drabbles like this in advance! (And exclusive drabbles!)

Original Prompt by Istas (patron): EraserMic and Shinson. Soft, bone deep realizations. Hitoshi has heard his entire life all the bad things he could do with his Quirk. "You can make someone do Anything" sounds so scary to everyone, even to Hitoshi. But the first time he was able to use his Quirk to stop someone's panic attack, a quiet part of him went 'Oh'. He can do anything, and this is what he chooses.

Summary: Shinsou Hitoshi is having a little bit of a bad day regarding his quirk and just how ‘evil’ it could be. It’s then really hard to think of his quirk as something bad when he can use it to stop a kid from having a panic attack in the library.

Characters: Shinsou Hitoshi 

Pairing: Background Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic

Rating: General 

Word Count: 2,693

AO3 Link

---

“It’s called Brainwashing. It’s certainly a powerful quirk. It’s an emitter that allows the user to put their target in a state where they are forced to obey all of the user's commands. It’s something to be careful with as he’s growing.”

“I know we agreed to foster him, but surely there’s another family that’s better suited. We have small children and with a quirk like that…”

“Hey! I heard you’re the kid with the brainwashing quirk! How come you’re not already in jail? That’s a villain’s quirk, isn’t it? I mean, you can make anyone do anything.”

“Hey, Shinsou, we were just talking about quirks. Yours is pretty powerful, isn’t it? I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable with a quirk like that and all it can do. I mean, it’s a little creepy, right? Being able to control someone?” 

“Shut up! I know how your quirk works! But you can’t do anything to me if you can’t say anything, right?!”

“You’re applying where? Shinsou, come on, there’s no way you’re going to get into a place like U.A., I mean, yeah, your grades are pretty good, but… Your quirk. You know?”

“Shh, I don’t want him to hear, but we need to take him back. I can’t do this. I can’t keep someone in my home that has such a villainous quirk. What if he uses it on the kids? On us? I want him out of the house-!”

“Shinsou?” Startled out of his thoughts at the call of his name, Shinsou Hitoshi did his best to keep his breathing calm and steady as he looked over at where one of his new classmates was standing in front of him. It was Ashido, because of course it was. “Hey, you doing alright? You seemed kind of zoned out, there.” 

Trying to shrug it off, Hitoshi gave a little nod. “Sure. Just lost in thought. Where’s your horde of idiots?”

“Being idiots.” Following the gesture to where Bakugo, Kirishima, and Kaminari were all rolling around on the ground, knocking over desks and fighting and arguing like feral cats, Hitoshi snorted. “Just wanted to let you know that class ended a couple of minutes ago. Figured something was wrong since you’re usually one of the first ones out the door.”

“Like I said, just lost in thought,” Hitoshi waved off, not really wanting to share that he was once again reflecting on the quirk he had been cursed with. She was the type to be aggressively supportive and rat him out to Aizawa all at the same time. God he wished he had been put into Class 2B sometimes. 

“Uh huh.” Ashido crossed her arms and was in prime position to slip into therapy mode. Hitoshi looked around the room quickly and then realized he didn’t have to look far.

“Might want to corral them before they break something-” Beautifully timed, there was the sound of crunching wood and a shattering desk. Hitoshi smirked. “Well. Something else.” 

Ashido twisting around and opening her mouth to yell was all Hitoshi needed to enact his escape and slip out of the classroom. He must have been lost in memories longer than he realized. While there were a few stragglers, the halls were almost empty and there was the usual silence that settled once classes were over for the day.

At least that made it easier for Hitoshi to get to the library without dodging loud, excited students that sometimes couldn’t control their quirk. They were only a month into the school year and Hitoshi had almost forgotten how eager first years could be, especially with their quirk control — or lack thereof. Apparently, roughly ten or so years wasn’t enough to learn at least a little control. 

Ah, but Hitoshi was being bitter, wasn’t he? It wasn’t often anymore that he had his bad days. Ever since Shouta had taken him under his wing (and then fostered and adopted him with his husband who was Present Mic of all people), Hitoshi had gotten better about how he viewed his quirk. 

Hell, people at the Sports Festival — pro heroes — had said how useful his quirk could be for hero work. His classmates had been proud of him and threw him a party when he got into the hero course and his new classmates had thrown him another party. His quirk had even been a key turning point in the fight against All For One! He was at the point where he should more than see how useful his quirk could be to people. 

And yet… 

You can make anyone do anything you want! sounded terrifying to everyone — even to him. It was a ‘villainous’ quirk, nevermind that plenty of heroes had darker quirks that only weren’t called villainous because of the hero that wielded them. 

(There was a reason Eraserhead, who could take away quirks and Present Mic, who could render people deaf, were his favorite heroes. He knew what it felt like to have a dangerous quirk.)

Focus, Hitoshi chided himself, shaking the thoughts off as he finally reached the library and slipped inside. Getting lost in his head and feeling sorry for himself wasn’t going to help anybody, especially him. Besides, the longer he went feeling sorry for himself the more likely it was his dads would notice and try to be aggressively supportive. 

Heading for his usual table near the back of the place Hitoshi noted that the librarian wasn’t at the desk and instead stocking shelves or chasing off idiots. That also meant, though, that there was no one to call for backup or help when he suddenly heard gasping breaths tearing through the air, sounding like someone couldn’t breathe. 

If it was even half a year ago Hitoshi would have paused and been torn on what he should do. After everything, though, he didn’t even hesitate before he was rushing towards the sound and cursing the fact that students weren’t allowed to carry their weapons on them at all times. The binding cloth would be really useful if Hitoshi was about to come across some insane villain who decided attacking a U.A student was- 

Ah.

Shit. 

Instead of a villain attacking a student, which Hitoshi could have much more easily handled, it was a perfectly healthy student collapsed on the floor and looking like she was in the middle of a panic attack and couldn’t calm down. 

Desperately withholding the urge to swear with enough curse words that he’d be grounded for a month, Hitoshi dropped his bag and then followed with himself. First things first, he needed to look as non-threatening as possible and then he needed to get the kid to start taking some deep breaths. Passing out from a panic attack wasn’t fun for anyone involved. 

“Hey, can you hear me?” A quick check to see how coherent she was, Hitoshi felt a little tension leave him when her eyes snapped over to look at him. The tension came back when he noticed how wild and stressed they were. “My name is Shinsou Hitoshi, a second-year student in the hero course. I’m not sure how aware you are, but you’re having a panic attack.” 

There was always a chance it was some type of allergic reaction, but Hitoshi couldn’t see any swelling or redness anywhere that would indicate it. He had also had enough panic attacks to be able to spot the difference between it and anaphylactic shock. He also had enough to know that saying it’s okay or just take a breath wasn’t going to do shit. 

Best way of dealing with it was, likely, going to be reassuring her that she was at least in a safe place. “You’re in the library at U.A. right now, which is about the safest place you can be. You don’t need to worry about any sudden attacks and even if you do pass out, Recovery Girl is still here and can help you. So I need you to try and get some breath in if you can, okay?” 

Hitoshi knew he didn’t exactly look like someone who was good at comforting kids, or even acted like it, but he at least knew how to keep an even, calm tone. 

It didn’t seem to be helping, though. 

Instead of calming down, the girl only seemed to be working herself up more and more — not that Hitoshi was shocked. She was definitely a first year, but she looked even younger than she should. Possibly skipped a few grades? Even if she was fifteen, feeling something like a panic attack probably made her feel like she was about to die. 

Looking around and praying for an adult or a burst of inspiration, Hitoshi froze as he saw his backpack slowly lifting into the air, followed by half a dozen books that were soon becoming a dozen.

Gaze snapping back to the girl, Hitoshi finally did let slip a swear as he realized that she had something like a levitation or telekinesis quirk and it was going wild around them. The last thing they needed was a bookcase falling down on them, too. 

“Okay- Okay.” Hitoshi needed to calm her down before her quirk ended up hurting her, him, or both of them. He also knew a perfect way to do it and felt half-sick even as he knew it was the quickest way. “I’m going to help you, okay? You need to be able to answer me verbally, though. It can be anything, you just have to respond to me, okay?” 

Hitoshi threw as much of his quirk into the question as he could, waiting breathlessly and with a rising sense of anxiety. When he finally heard the smallest, breathiest “Okay.” in response he grabbed onto the word and wrapped his quirk around the girl as carefully and tightly as he could. 

“Breathe in for two seconds. Hold it for four seconds. Breathe out four seconds. Repeat this three times.” His quirk had her firmly under control and Hitoshi watched as she began following his orders. There had been no point in ordering her to do the usual calming breaths when she had no air to spare, so working up to it was his best choice.

The books still floated around them, Hitoshi on edge as he silently counted out the amount of breaths he had ordered her to do. “Good. Now breathe in for five seconds. Hold it for six seconds. Breathe out for eight seconds. Repeat this five times.” 

Slowly, the girl’s chest started to rise slower and slower, her eyelids drooping even as the glazed look remained. She would be exhausted and crash as soon as she was sitting down and aware again, likely. 

“Really good. Now, carefully lower everything you’re lifting with your quirk, then release your quirk.” Standing up slowly and grabbing his bag once it was free of the quirk, Hitoshi ignored the books on the ground. “Stand up carefully and slowly. Once you’re steady, follow me.” 

Hitoshi had a wild thought that he had no idea what the punishment was for using a quirk on a fellow student when it was for good purposes, but he had a feeling it wouldn't be very lenient. Still, he wasn’t willing to release her until he had her in Recovery Girl’s office — then at least if she went right back into an attack there would be an actual medical professional to help. 

The walk was quick, at least, and the halls were clear of everyone which meant Hitoshi didn’t have to worry about someone asking why a first year was following after him blankly and quietly and obviously brainwashed. 

“Recovery Girl?” Forcing the thoughts and worries out of his head, Hitoshi knocked on the office door before opening the door. “Are you- Ah.” Recovery Girl was in. So were both of his dads. Because of course.

“‘Toshi?” Hizashi was the first one to speak, confused and then panicked. “Are you alright? What-”

“I’m fine,” Hitoshi blurted, cutting Hizashi off before he had to deal with two panicking people. “Just- Yeah. Alright.” Opening the door fully, Hitoshi looked back to the girl who he didn’t even have a name for yet. “Walk over to one of the beds and carefully lay down.” 

As ordered, the girl did so. Hitoshi half-expected some yelling or frantic questions as to what was going on, but somehow the dead silence was even worse. Still. He could run out of the room and book it to a hole to hide in once he was done.

Taking a slow breath, Hitoshi released the hold on his quirk until he no longer had control, walking over to the bed and standing a few feet away as the girl groaned and looked even more exhausted then he would have thought. “What…?”

“Hey,” Hitoshi called quietly, waiting until she focused on him. “You’re okay. I don’t know how much you remember, you were having what looked like a panic attack in the library. Started using your quirk a little. I- My quirk, it let me, well…” Shit. How did he explain that one? 

Before he could, the girl made a sound like she was going to cry and Hitoshi was about to jump out the window. He then froze as she whispered, “You made it stop.” It wasn’t said like an accusation. “Thank you.” 

“I…” Clearing his throat, Hitoshi forced himself to not look over at the adults. “My quirk is Brainwashing. I used it to help you calm down and get to Recovery Girl’s office.” 

“You helped me breathe.” Alright. She at least remembered everything, which was a good sign. Shrugging, and ready to make an excuse and run because the adults still hadn’t said anything, Hitoshi froze as the girl suddenly jumped off the bed and threw her arms around him in a hug. “Thank you.” 

“Oh- Uh.” Hitoshi raised and lowered his arms and then, very carefully, pat the top of her head. “You’re welcome?” Almost instinctively, he looked towards his dads for help. Instead of looking worried or disappointed or anything about him using his quirk, Shouta was smirking at him and Hizashi was looking ready to either cry or join in on the hug or both. 

Recovery Girl, proving that she was Hitoshi’s favorite, came to his rescue. “Alright, let’s get you back on the bed and we’ll give everything a look.” In short order the girl was shuffled to the bed, Hitoshi and his dads were pushed out of the room, and Hitoshi was being suffocated with hugs. 

“‘Toshi! I’m so proud of you!” Hizashi wasn’t quite yelling, but was damn close to it, and Hitoshi wasn’t sure how to react for a minute. 

It was made worse when he felt Shouta ruffle his hair, smiling at him and offering a quiet, “Good job, kid, using your quirk like that.” 

And, huh. Yeah. Hitoshi had just his quirk to stop a panic attack. 

His whole life, ever since his quirk had appeared, he had heard about how his quirk was villainous and evil and could be used to cause harm. He had always heard about the bad things he could do with his quirk, but… He had almost forgotten about the good he could do with it.

He had used his quirk to help his team win during the winter exam. His quirk had been the only way Aoyama and his family had been able to lie to One For All. His quirk had turned the tide in battle and put that giant on their side for a while. His quirk had helped someone break out of a panic attack. 

He kind of hated that it had really taken him so long for him to really get it, but he supposed he was at a hero school to learn just what he had. 

Because he could do anything with his quirk. He could choose to do anything with a quirk like Brainwashing. 

And that meant he could go above and beyond everyone who had ever said different and he could choose to do good with it, too.Plus Ultra, wasn’t it?

---

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[radskull-69]

TERRY ANN, HUMANITY CO (AI) SONG!

Everything was made by ai minus the lyrics, I take no credit!

LYRICS!

[Verse] Overworked and terrified, you’re overreacting!

what’s got you so worried?

Well, the boss is up to something and the ai is acting up!

Fuck this, I’ve had enough, now go clock out.

Your shift is done, not gonna acknowledge all this burn out

You wanna leave! You’re going to cry! Just go through the doors and you’re gonna be fine!

Uh oh..

How am I back at my desk…?

[Verse 2] Headphones on, dials and wires! Mind trapped in files, my anxiety fires!

I can’t escape this office job! Stuck looking at computer screens, coffee spills and lost files

It’s a miracle you can’t hear my screams!

Input commands, don’t talk back I can’t remember when I last seen the sun! My head is overwhelmed with static!

Wheres all the Humanity!?

Screens flash danger, can’t cut back and run. I pray someone finds a way out

[Chorus] Cycle spinning, clock never stops Cogs in the madness, anxiety drops Trapped in the circuit, nowhere to go Digital prison, heart's too slow

[Verse 3] Breakroom break-ins, secrets they keep Humans, machines, i’m in too deep Can’t trust the gossip, the walls got ears Paranoid heartbeat, I’ve got programmed fears

[Bridge] Can’t leave, can’t die, circuits closed tight.. someone tell pal to stop glaring at me!

Endless data streams, coding through the night. I can’t hear myself think over these computer keys!

Digitized nightmare, heart full of static Panic mode on, life mode on automatic!

I can’t trust myself, I need a way out, I just hope they finally let go of meee!

God knows they won’t let me quit…

[Chorus] Cycle spinning, clock never stops Cogs in the madness, anxiety drops Trapped in the circuit, nowhere to go Digital prison, heart's too slow

Headphones on, dials and wires! Mind trapped in files, my anxiety fires!

I can’t escape this office job! Stuck looking at computer screens, coffee spills and lost files

It’s a miracle you can’t hear my screams!

Input commands, don’t talk back I can’t remember when I last seen the sun! My head is overwhelmed with static!

Wheres all the Humanity!?

[chorus] Where’s all your humanity!?

These AI’s be acting too familiar to me.

Holding my briefcase tight, don’t wanna be here but I’m in too deep! Gonna cry if I don’t do this right!

Where’s all the humanity!?

[verse 4] I’m ripping out my hair trying to finish this work, gonna have an attack before I even make it to the desk

Got jitters and my fears taking over every room, coding to keep them happy. Just smile and try not to think hard about how they trapped me

I don’t wanna be here I just wanna go home! Back to mom, my farm and all my Froyos

I don’t belong here in this suit and tie, mom please answer my calls I’m gonna fucking cry

Headphones on, dials and wires! Mind trapped in files, my anxiety fires

I can’t escape this office job Stuck looking at computer screens, coffee spills and lost files

Why can’t you hear my screams?

[moomeecore]

hey, i hope this isnt rude, but i value your thoughts on betty (and simon!) and i think about your various analytical pieces often.

so i hope this isnt too vague, but. ive been thinking about the ways betty and simon might differ from each other, specifically in the way they view...everything. do you think one of them has a 'sees the big picture but misses the small details' view and the other has a 'gets lost in the details, cant see the big picture' view? im not sure if they differ here, or if they are both the 'gets lost in the details' but going opposite ways...?

FINALLY getting around to awnsering this. i got sick so it took me even longer than i thought it would (had to wait until i could retain coherent thoughts)!!

Ok So, a lot of this is extrapolating (esp for betty) and goes very into more of a headcanons and Personal Interpretations area than a, like, canon analysis. in part bc the show dosen’t give us a ton of content of these characters (i mean, there’s plenty of simon content as ice king but im talking about pre and post ice king simon here). but yea im just gonna ramble. dont take this super seriously btw guys. again a lot of this is just personal Interpretation yknow

SO i think simon is definitely a “gets lost in the details guy”. at least like, overall. that man overanalyzes things until he goes into a state of paralysis and then he just passes out. in some ways he might better about this post being-freed-from-the-curse, on the basis of "had to survive the apocalypse by thinking on his feet", but also worse about it bc of the lasting impacts of having been ice king. because one of the Big Things about ice king is that he almost never thought anything through and just did things as soon as he thought of them. i think simon probably really wants to be Not Like Ice King and so might be scared of making choices too fast or acting too impulsive. i imagine he’s very worried about behaving like ice king and thats something thats in the back of his mind most of the time, impacting his confidence in his own choices & actions. but also f&c sorta shows that he has that issue of trauma responses causing him to have emotional outbursts and make quick decisions. so thats something to keep in mind.

i think he's, like stuck in a state of being scared to do things without thinking really hard abt them but then sometimes he does that and then he usually regrets it and feels really awful afterwards. not always guilty-awful even. f&c seems to show him feeling angry a lot. to me simon deals not just with guilt over being ice king or recovering from being ice king or Having strong reactions to things or making choices he regrets… but also with Anger At The Situation - a lot of feeling confused and not sure what to do and overwhelmed, i think . (i like that they let him be angry and frustrated, not just sad and depressed. i think this is very realistic to trauma related emotional responses)

the other thing abt simon is he tends to follow other people's lead on a lot of things. i think he just likes not having to deal with the pressure of making decisions. he seems more inclined to lead around f&c than around, like, finn, though. and betty. but i think that’s in part because he was taking on a protector role w them. but yeah. he does a lot of crazy shit in f&c but very noticeably does not really act as a lead decision maker. until they get to the vampire world and they get attacked for a second that man is yelling orders and breaking a chair over his knee and pulling out a pocket knife to carve it into a stake lighting fast. which i loved that. i loved that he gained so much confidence from being in Panic Mode when confronted w vampires Because those where something he had to deal with in the apocalypse when raising marcy. he had to know what to do for marcys sake. other than that tho he's usually making suggestions at most. and agreeing to do scary crazy shit lmao . EXCEPT he decides on his own in secret to try and contact golb . hehe (motivated by wants to see his wife)

(it also seems like when he feels more confident in something he's much more capable of making choices. (makes sense) he wasnt paralyzed by anxiety when going on that research expedition with betty, probably because he was literally getting a phd (or had a phd, the show was so weird abt that) in that subject. makes sense he knows what he's doing. and also is interesting bc in ep2 of fionna and cake when he goes on an Adventure with finn he's very scared and nervous, but then talks about how he "used to be quite the adventurer in [his] day", which fits into the theme f&c had w his character where he feels out of place and less confident bc his whole ass profession isn't really relevant anymore, and everything is so different from how it used to be. so yeah. current simon has even less self confidence and confidence in his own decision making than Back In The Day simon bc of that)

id like to say that…. i think that the fact that it took betty only a few years to summon and eldritch god to free simon from his curse meanwhile it took simon 12 years to get to the point where he kidnapped a guy to use in a summoning ritual to talk to betty is interesting. bc i really do think they both love each other, and are both obsessive and co dependent. but betty went off the deep end so fast, meanwhile simon took a lot longer to do something comparatively Less Evil for betty. i think that a lot of this is because simon is just less confident in his choices, more nervous about making decisions, and *slower* at making decisions. in part because of a obsessive focus on details (i also think a buncha other stuff contributed to the difference in how long it took betty vs simon to do differing levels of fucked up shit for eachother but Yeah that’s the relevant part.)

i wouldn't say betty is a "think about the big picture, ignore the details" person though, necessarily. maybe compared to simon she is, but she's still a huge fucking nerd. she's an academic! to me she's someone who takes issues and situations that are more subjective and translates them into concretely structured language in order to guide herself through what actions she should take (my friend responded to this with “so what youre saying is betty took a philosophy class and was like ‘aw yes! Math!’” and yeah that is exactly what im saying)

i feel like canon sort of implies this, and definitely doesn't Not Imply It, but i also think canon didn't flesh out her character very well, so in a lot of ways im making my own assertions. but i think she's the type of person who likes to view things in ways that are ....not necessarily less complicated, but more concrete? like she can handle an uber complicated math problem with ease, but the way a math problem is complicated is entirely different from the way a social interaction is complicated, you know. and she's way better equipped for the first one.

so, basically, i think betty would be like: Dosent see the bigger picture.... but in a different way from simon, where instead of getting caught up on and overwhelmed by all the little details, she picks a specific angle to view the situation and then focuses on That, often to the detriment of viewing things from a wider, more complex and nuanced perspective. so better at seeing the bigger picture than simon, but still can miss a Lot…

i also feel like she leans towards viewing things as "identify a problem/issue, then find away to eliminate it" and "identify a goal, and find a way to reach it" . like i feel like she'd tackle social and personal situations in this way. it's not like she can't do things for fun or anything, but like, if she upset simon she'd go into Solving A Problem Mode and be like: “The issue is Simon Is Upset. The goal is Make Simon Not Upset. First i have to identify Why simon is Upset, and then how to make him Not Upset. This is The Current Goal I Must Complete.” like, not in an abstract sense. like shes literally narrating that to herself. i think she likes to focus in on  "what's wrong here and how do i fix it" as opposed to dwelling on emotions and exploring nuance. (which may be a contributor to how she ended up in that “there’s so little me left anymore” state by temple of mars: she was so focused on Fixing the Problem that she didn’t allow herself to really process her feelings too deeply and that took a toll on her mental health.)

simon is maybe more aware of nuance, which could be part of why he gets caught up on details because he's like "this CANT be properly categorized into something more straightforward, there's actually a billion TRILLION little details and that is stressful". like simon desperately wishes things could be simplified down more but is usually like "actually no, a million things are happening actually". he's like me he would get upset if asked to rate his pain or feelings on a number scale at the doctor (i can’t do that shit for the life of me. Those things are far too complicated to put on a number scale in my eyes). meanwhile betty just will force things into concrete categories and steps and factors that Make Sense To Her with intense fervor and if she starts to have a "this is too complicated to address" moment she feels threatened and then tries very hard to reprocess things in a way that is easier, or just does her best to ignore the things that make stuff too complicated to address

i think betty tends to view things in medium-sized chunks that incorporate some but Not All details in a situation, and that she cares about small details and being thorough but feels like accomplishing the goal is the most important thing, so is willing and able to make a quick decision if she feels it's the only choice. like. she had a limited time before the portal closed, and she chose to jump through it, because she thought "the problem is that im not with simon. simon is on the other side of the portal. ill go there" it's not that she doesn't like to think things through. she loves to think things through! its just that OVERALL she is a Doer who wants to solve the problem and thinks taking action and doing something is way better than sitting there and missing an opportunity. betty will think through the details if she has time, but if she doesnt, she just breaks things down into whatever is most easy to digest and process, and then takes the option that seems.like it will get the most desired outcome based on the available info. and also shes just very confident and headstrong. and THATS.  why she punched bella noche

In my eyes betty likes having rules and defined, structured processes about what to do or how to deal with stuff. and she dosen’t really like changing those. she's very autistic. she hates change i think. so does simon. but i think that simon would be more likely to be like: the change in situation is so upsetting that it's making it harder to think and process things, so he just gets overwhelmed and has an even harder time addressing whatever is happening or comprehending it. meanwhile betty is quick to try and find the easiest way to rerout her thinking to fit the new change, she's just really fucking pissed off and stressed out about it (part of this to me is she hates feeling powerless & hates feeling like she might fail). she copes with changes in her surroundings by finding a way to connect the changed situation as well and as fast as possible with her pre existing methods of tackling situations. i think bettys also worse at handling changes in people than changes in situation. to quote my friend when we where texting about this “Situations dont have feelings”.

Like. Betty has so many skills. so much knowledge. but isn’t great with people. And she gets to know people and figures out how to understand them and then THEY CHANGE??? ILLEGAL. and so… like…this is literally her whole thing with simon!! elements seems to imply that betty originally views things as "simon is cursed, i have to fix the curse". but when she makes an attempt to meet simon where he’s at and try to interact with him as ice king, she is unable to handle it. she is upset that he is different, so much so that she concludes the only way to view things is to see them as separate people, even though it was implied that she wasn't doing that before! she was approaching it like he was Simon With Memory Loss…..but then she does her villain betrayal scene and now she's all "things will be back to just me and simon, and you won't exist" . meaning before she directly started interacting with him, she was able to view him as simon, but when she did interact with him for an extended period of time and found out how different he had become, she felt so threatened by this that the only way she could handle it was by switching her view in order to not have to confront the idea that simon could have changed that much. it also meant switching her view to a place where she would be okay hurting simon. but when he starts to protest, get upset, ask what's wrong, and worst of all, insist that he's worthy of respect, that starts to stress her out and she has to talk out loud to herself to reassure herself that she's doing the right thing

and in that scene simon goes "i don't know who this simon guy is, im ice king", which i think is a Big line - he's responded to simon in the past, but doesnt always. Like. he's inconsistent in whether or not he's aware that's a way of referring to him, which makes sense bc he seems to have memory lapses where he remembers things fine one minute and forgets them the next, them remembers about them way later. anyway having him say that simultaneously provides a Confirmation of bettys new perspective, but it also… isn’t meant to. i feel like, to the audience, its saying that "simon has changed so much, he's entirely different now. and this is the way things are, and betty should accept this, but she cant" . to betty its telling her she’s right, but that kind of sucks, because she’s not totally sure how much she wants to be right (she dosen’t want this to be simon, but she also dosen’t want simon to be gone)

(i think the idea of betty Swapping her perspective abt simon during elements as a coping strategy to deal w the panic of What If Simon Is Different + the moral dilemma of potentially hurting him fits nicely into the "betty has bpd" interpretation . my girl is splitting)

(also ik many people interpret simon and ice king as Literally being entirely different people but tbh i think that is way less interesting and doesn't make a lot of sense with the canon. but also ik this is partially because what people consider to be "different people" is subjective.  like it depends somewhat on ur perception of identity and stuff. also having different interpretations is valid and fair and all that - and adventure time is often very loose in its text and there’s lots of ways to interpret it. but whatever man im just saying my feelings and That is and Always Will Be the Same guy to me and i think that perspective is waay more interesting to explore than simon getting possessed by an alternate personality or whatever. so im just going under that interpretation….. i think some ppl would perceive the "im ice king" line as being a conformation of them as separate people but to me it's a more abstract representation of the idea that a Drastic Change has taken place that Cannot be reversed!!.... which. Ok eventually it is but tbh i doubt they even knew how they'd end the show by this point and i still think in the context of elements it still works very well as a way driving home both how betty is Not Handling the Situation Well while also making you empathize with her bc u also know how hard that must have been for her to hear)

i think betty is very person-oriented in a unique way!!she's codependent while also being low empathy, introverted, and in many ways socially inept,  which is an interesting combo! i really get the vibe that she has always struggled socially and had trouble fitting in, so attaches really heavily to people who she does feel a connection to, and works really, really hard to maintain the relationships she has. i like to think she’s scared of rejection…

i think simon is much more empathetic, emotion-driven, and in tune with others than betty, but i also think he can be Very bad at actually understanding other people on many levels - like with his obliviousness to betty being interested in him romantically until she spelled it out for him, or to the impact of bettys earlier sacrifices. simon also, with the mission to get the crown in f&c, despite his empathetic nature and love for his friends, does not seem to consider that putting the crown on would upset his friends. This shows a "focusing on one thing and missing something else" scenario, and perhaps more of a "thinking abt the big picture" (saving f&c's world) over the details (friends would be sad) thing. so that's interesting. (although i think part of this example in particular stems from his self hatred preventing him from really thinking that his friends would be upset if he did that. but in a sense it is focusing on big picture over details). So theres some nuance there i think

BUT Anyway, i think this issue probably is mainly with him struggling to read people, or fully understand others perspectives, despite caring deeply about people and feeling Upset when he can tell other people are Upset. he cares and he feels very emotionally connected to people, especially people he cares about…. he just isn't that great at picking up on things sometimes. (also. Worth noting, i think its def shown that while simon may be very caring towards his friends and is a generally nice and approachable, well meaning person who wants whats best for other people. He still is very capable of Hating People and Doing Bad Things On Purpose. Don’t want to ignore that. also hes very desensitized to bad things happening in many respects lmao. So its not like hes just always super nice and caring and amazing. He still murdered choose goose to death and That is via the power of choose goose being annoying and Simon Loving Betty)

Betty also struggles to understand other people but instead of being downright oblivious to certain things or being unsure and nervous she finds relating to people and understanding their actions and emotions to be actively difficult and makes an active effort to understand people in a bit of a scientist-looking-at-a-subject way. Which can be helpful sometimes and less helpful other times. like. it's good that she has a way to navigate social interactions . but also that way of addressing things isn't always conductive to a healthy relationship, especially when she doesn't really let simon in on the fact that she's making these sort of analyses where she's like "what will maximize Simon Being Happy and how do i accomplish this" sometimes to her own detriment.  simon is just like "wow betty is so confident and good at knowing what she wants" meanwhile betty is like "i will make the best choice For Simon" betty i think is better than simon at reading people but not good at Empathizing With Others Emotions or really Understanding or relating to the emotions behind their actions .

she also is shown to, despite caring So much about simon, not be very considerate or caring towards others (not the same as being low empathy & etc dw im not equating them. Its just on the topic of How She Views Others!!!). To be fair, we don’t see nearly enough of her interacting with people besides simon, but i like to think that she just sorta struggles to really care about and have compassion for Random People but deeply cares about those she is Really close too (but as far as we know, thats just simon)

OVERALLi think they see the world very similarly in some ways and very differently in others and it's an interesting balance. also they are both Autistic. In cconclusion !!

betty

likes to break things down into concrete concepts because she struggles to comprehend more subjective and nuanced experiences, especially in social situations + Feels more comfortable approaching things from a “scientific” perspective because it is familiar and easy for her to navigate; threatened by uncertainty and comforted by things that are more straightforward and well-defined

doesn't dwell on things a ton (esp not as much as simon) because she's very goal-oriented and focused on the Now. she wants to get to the next step. that often then means ignoring Her Own Feelings Or Needs if she deems Other Things to be more relevant or important than them (not good for your mental health) + this also means she’s better at making quick decisions! she cares about details and prefers to have All The Relevant Info but is willing and able to cut things down to a “wider-picture” that helps her make whatever choices will help her achieve her goal - that wider picture just may not always be the Full Actual wider picture.

struggles to put herself in other people's shoes - finds it easier to view herself as an outside party with the goal of achieving the ideal outcome in a social situation. In general has low empathy and struggles to understand/relate to others feelings, which impacts her perspective on things and how she handles/views situations.

(not really mentioned earlier but idk where else to put it:) i also think she has that Autism Trait where you focus in on a specific goal you want to achieve and struggle to focus on anything else until it's accomplished (and that that sort of thinking pattern happened with curing simons curse). where you put off doing anything, even things you could do, until something that you Need to happen (according to your brain, not the real world) happens.  Betty put off being person until simon was saved. she put Everything on hold until she accomplished her mission. and this is in a way a form of not seeing the bigger picture, because its overly focusing on a specific thing at the expense of others

(bettys better at balancing seeing the details & the big picture in a sense, but more like. she picks a medium sized chunk of what is going on and focuses on that and acknowledges details when able to but is willing and able to make split second decisions based on little info and is confident in doing so. but whereas i think simon might have more of a "sees the whole big picture but then gets caught up on the details" thing going on, i think betty just straight up focuses on One Portion of something, of varying sizes, which could or could not he considered a "detail", but then almost completely ignores everything else, viewing things as individual challenges or events that need to be addressed before anything else can be)

simon 

is someone who really likes to think things through, and can easily get hung up on details and can easily get overwhelmed by those details and sent into a state of anxiety-fueled-spiraling or decision making paralysis

this is worse probably for Current simon because he’s also Trying To DIstance Himself from his identity as ice king, and as ice king he had no impulse control and thought things through very little. so simon likely puts even more pressure on himself to think things through! unfortunately hes also Going Through A Lot Emotionally and sometimes that’s too much and he Dosen’t think things through and just acts on how he’s feeling. And that makes him feel Worse about himself and just Everything in general

he is more confident with his decision making skills if he feels more prepared/knowledgeable on the subject at hand or is taking on a caretaker role (like with marcy, or f&c). but currently he dosen’t have a lot of that going on so that kinda sucks for his self confidence. 

simon is better at empathizing with people than betty & at creating connections with others & is more caring towards people he dosen’t know that well - and so may consider Other People more in his perspectives on things. But on the other hand hes not always the best at reading people or understanding their perspectives, even if he feels emotional connections and cares about people, so he can easily overlook other people’s struggles or perspectives within an issue - even if he cares deeply about their wellbeing (very relevant to his relationship with betty)

he’s generally more emotion driven than betty, and dwells on & ruminates about his feelings, sometimes to the point of obscuring his understanding of a situation or his ability to engage with it. On The Other Hand this means he at least acknowledges how he’s feeling meanwhile betty is like “im classifying that as irrelevant information until further notice” lmao. 

he’s better at understanding nuance & subjectivity than betty but this contributes to his habit of getting-overwhelmed by everything & Overthinking

(simon focuses on details over the big picture overall. he easily gets caught up in details and panics. he traps himself in cycles of worrying about details that can paralyze him when making decisions, and so prefers to not have to make choices. BUT simons "paralyzed with fear of making decisions" state can often be overturned by the power of Having Strong Emotions and his decisions may be Less Good because of the power of not being great and understanding other people. he's very emotion-driven and currently suffering from a billion mental health issues so sometimes all that gets in the way of his natural over-thinking. hes got a better understanding of nuance than betty & is better at Empathizing with others and more considerate but not all too great at reading them or recognizing others Feelings or Behaviors)

I THINK I REPEATED A LOT IN THIS. AGAIN, KIND OF JUST RAMBLING. HOPEFULLY IT WAS SOMEWHAT COHERENT