#tw s*icide Attempt

[lovsome]

am i so hard to care about?

[hoffmans-hoffman]

Lyle's Hermes priest headcanons pt 1

“Have you heard about our lord and savior Hermes?„

Tw: Smoking, Swearing Deadnaming, S*icide attempt, Neck/throat trauma, attempted murder

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Was legit a year or two long thing, mostly did it so he could live with his Godfather for a little bit

Doesn't know why but during this stint, THIS was his prime listening to Elton John and Ghost

He has a photo of Mr Jacques and Mr Ibis in his wallet bc he misses them a lot

Hale stopped smoking for that two year long stint as this was before Lyle started smoking

🎵I can see your soul grow, Through the pain as they hit the ground🎵

He had a girlfriend during this stint and she loved him a lot

Still as always innocent, sweet and shy

Wanted a pet but Hale is allergic to fur

🎶You go down just like Holy Mary Mary on a, Mary on a cross Not just another Bloody Mary Mary on a, Mary on a cross🎶

Incense burner

He was able to hide his power easier

Reads like it's going out of style

When the Modern Gods(Media and Mr World) tried attacking them, Lyle had hid his power for so long it boiled over and he made a big mess but the old gods won

He bows the petite lil man he is, aka legs crossed arms out full on half bent over

After he and his girlfriend broke up he made a list of everything he hates about her

Lyle running and jumping onto Hale bc he missed him so much

*spoiler for Lyle's fate* Hale found out Lyle's fate from the loom of fate around this time and was dead set on changing it

The first time Aether deadnamed Lyle, Hale hit Aether so hard they went through a 20 floored building and then the parking garage

"He's not a bad kid, but he had to do it" - Hale's right hand priest

Somehow looks older

*screams in Greek Spirit* *SCREAMS LOUDER IN GREEK GOD*

Has two necklaces one is the head of a black jackal a parting gift from Mr Jacques and the other is a blue crescent moon a parting gift from Mr Ibis

Lyle tried to hang himself once, his last words would have been “I love you„ no-one is sure who that was aimed at but Hale and his right hand Priest quickly got Lyle down when they found him, Lyle didn't know that he would only knock himself out since Spirits are hard to kill

🎵I need to purge my urge, Shame Shame Shame🎵

At the end of this stint he had met Blaze and Czernobog, Daniel(again)and Zeek

Lyle got a vision of what was to come and saw Daniel's death, he was going to try and stop it

*Lyle bopping around to his music* *Hale bopping around to his music* ‘Awww, - Hale's right hand Priest

Lyle got his shit rocked though, he was standing outside of the church reading and got beaten up by some of the new gods lackeys in an attempt to murder him, but Hale and his girlfriend came and save his life

“If I'd know it would've been like this before, I'd never come back for more„

“COME ON AND LET ME IN„

*scared Lyle sounds*

Was surprised that Mad Sweeney came and visited him

A monster and A trainwreck

[fleetingcalypso]

Hello! I just stumbled across your blog, and find the way you write and portray Henry in your stories absolutely captivating. I just finished reading the book for the first time ever today and managed to do so without seeing any spoilers beforehand, so safe to say that Henry's suicide blindsided me completely. In hindsight it made complete sense, but I'm still in denial about it and would love a story about him actually surviving his wounds. Henry gives me the vibe of hiding everything that was happening from anyone but those in the Greek class alongside him, which, in my opinion, would even extend to his partner as well. I think it would be really interesting if his partner comes to visit him in the hospital after he's just woken up (ignoring the logical fact that he'd probably be heavily brain damaged) and is just absolutely devastated because she/they thought he was genuinely taking his life because he was depressed. To me, even then I don't see Henry fessing up to what's actually been happening, and I think it'd be cool to see the way he would try and talk his way out of it. (Henry seems pretty closed off emotionally, but I'd love some genuine hurt/comfort, only if this idea intrigues you of course.) thank you! (:

≋ The dread of losing a loved one, the knowledge that someone's time could have come faster than expected, the paranoid of could have happened had help on arrived on time, the fear of the future holds. These feelings are not foreign to me. At any rate, everyone sails away from Ogygia one day or another, I am accustomed to it. For anyone else, I want to emphasize that themes of this narration are quite heavy, if need be please don't be afraid to reach out to me for help or simple communication. You're not alone and you are deeply loved. Going back to Henry, I am of the opinion he'd try to manipulate his way out of a truly meaningful conversation. He's quite the orator, after all.

≋ Henry Winter x GN!Reader ≋

≋ Word Count: 2190 words.

≋ TW: Attempted s*icide, angst, manipulation, reader feels an exorbitant amount of guilt, somewhat hurt/comfort.

≋ CW: As the themes are quite heavy and Henry is a pragmatic, stoic character, I feel like there could not be much comfort in a scenario like this. He'd be too busy trying to find another way to get out of the mess he's in, to take the time to comfort his loved one. I beg your forgiveness for not including most of the genuine comfort you were searching for, but if you were to enjoy this nonetheless, I'd be thrilled.

On my way to Henry’s hospital room, sprinting through the haunting sterile hallways I ran into Camilla Macaulay, a girl -the only one- in his class, she was just here to bring him some flowers she’d tell me before her body began trembling trying to hold back sobs and I was left to watch her scurry away, I could not get a word in to ask her anything at all, if he was awake, if he was alright, why he did it, why they all waited days before telling me he had tried to end his life. The intensity of the drum beating in my chest could barely compare against the headache I brought upon myself, drowning in my own salty tears. 

I nearly went into cardiac arrest when I spotted him, the only thing reassuring me that he still had a pulse was the rhythmic movement of his chest, rising with each breath he took accompanied by the beeping of a heart monitor I can’t bring myself to glimpse at. “I can feel you staring.” He said, his croaky voice already tugging at my heartstring. I can’t look away even if I wanted to: it’s a sight I never thought I’d see, as abominable as it is I fear that if I avert my gaze then the puzzle pieces might never fall into place and I might never know the motive of his extreme action. 

Does he hate me? I can’t help but wonder if during what could have been his last breaths he thought of me, if maybe he wished I was there to stop him and remind him of how loved he is. The image of him searching for my body next to his as he collapses lifeless makes me shudder. I come to the conclusion that I failed in everything when it comes to Henry. Not being able to read between the lines, I barely scratched the surface of him while I thought I was in deep waters. 

He was content in life, I think. Yes, in one moment where exhaustion took ahold of him and he was more asleep than awake, in the comforting hiding place under my blankets he confessed to me that he had a lot on his mind. I never could have imagined it would lead to this: two gunshots to the temple, according to what Richard -another one of his classmates- told me over the phone, the second being triggered by the gun’s recoil.

I wasn’t there, I thought at that moment, Henry had taken a gun to his head and I wasn’t there. Henry had tried to kill himself and I wasn’t there. He could have been lying in a pool of his hot blood, flowing out on the ground and expanding like a stain on a white shirt, and I wasn’t there to hold him in his possible final moments. He could have died and I would have found out thanks to a desolate phone call from a stuttering man I didn’t know that well, or maybe even from a serious police officer just doing his job. Nonetheless, Henry’s finger had pressed the trigger in front of a handful of people and I wasn’t anywhere near him.

Cement bricks become chained to my ankles, getting heavier and heavier with each hesitant step I take towards him. I would have flown to him if I could have, crashed at the side of his bed, thrown my arms around his neck in ecstatic joy for his survival, kissed him a thousand times for each second I spent unaware of his whereabouts or his feelings.

“How do you feel?” I foolishly ask, being rewarded with his eyes cracking open and settling on my figure which I know will look indistinct and blurry to him given the absence of his glasses on the bridge of his nose, “Dead,” he answers me. To think the fierce storm he held in his irises was something that could very well have been a sight no one in the world could have appreciated in full. 

The mattress shifted and dipped under my weight when I sat at the edge of his bed, the chair at his side remaining empty. I wanted to feel him, touch him, try to be as close as possible and a sad little chair putting even the smallest of distances between us was the last thing I desired. Reaching towards the night table I found his glasses with ease, the only other things sitting on the surface were a pack of unopened Lucky Strike cigarettes, his wallet and the fragrant bouquet of flowers his friend had brought. I cleaned the lenses with a handkerchief and then tried my best to not look at the seemingly infinite bandages wrapping his head as I set the glasses on his face.

He blinks once, twice, thrice before he finally sees me as I am, without a hazy cloud over my face.

“Well, you’re not,” I inform him, swallowing the ‘what-if’ stuck in the middle of my throat, “By a miracle, I heard a nurse say. A miracle saved you Henry, do you hear how lucky that sounds?”

“I hear you.” He exhales, a sinkhole forms in me when I catch that small tone of disappointment hidden layer after layer under his voice, “Lucky indeed.” It’s dreadful how he keeps his gaze low, set in my direction but never quite reaching my eyes. It’s even more embarrassing to admit I do not understand him, I haven’t been able to do so since the very beginning.

That is to say, me not understanding him, does not mean I do not love him. He’d been the best lover a human being could ever ask for, there were no fights, no arguments, no disagreements, just pure unapologetic passion. Only once did we not see eye to eye and even then it was soon enough resolved over a glass of whiskey and a couple cigarettes: when he travelled to Rome with his friend Bunny without so much as a “I’ll be back soon,”  leaving me worried to no end as to where he might be.

“Talk to me, Henry. What happened?” I knew what happened of course, he’d shot himself in the head, but what I craved wasn’t a rundown of events, a bullet point list of the movements he made to get two bullets in his cranium. No. I desperately needed some way to understand what led him to attempting to do such a drastic thing. Were there signs I missed? Was I not loving enough? What hurt him so much? Was he truly that miserable in life, and if so, how had he hid it so well?

“Don’t cry,” he said, lifting the one arm that did not have the tube connecting him to the IV drip, his finger made contact with the corner of my eye and only then did I realise the salty diamonds rolling down my cheeks. I did not want to cry in front of him, not if it would add onto his miseries. As if I was kneeling in a confessional I have to come clean, I did not think I had any more tears left in me after having cried myself to sleep the night prior. Guilty of not appreciating the beauty of Selene as she brightened the darkened world, guilty of living only for the hospital doors to open and seeing him again.

“I have to ask, you know I have to.” Now that I was aware of the tears, nothing could have stopped the stinging feeling that seemed to spread from my eyes to every inch of my being, “Why did you do it?” There was no sugarcoating it, he’s never been one to beat around the bush and he often would not appreciate me going around in circles trying to find the nicest way to say or ask something. 

His jaw clenched and I watched hopelessly as Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. His lips parted but no sound that made proper sense came out. In my head I had already formed some hypotheses, none of them struck me as much as what he said. “I had to.” He apathetically said and I vaguely registered the sharp pain in my palm as my nails digging into my skin to stop my body from doubling-over and breaking into a gut wrenching sob.

“I-” Never has my mind been blank like this moment, it made so much sense and none at the same time,“I- Just- Why? Give me a reason- a concrete reason, Henry.” I all but begged him, sniffling like a whimpering child. That was exactly how I felt, like a child: small, lost and with no way to do something that could actually make a difference. 

Through my glossy vision I observed as he stiffened in pain while he shifted in his bed trying to sit up, the bedsheets moving along with his every movement made me nauseous. They weren’t supposed to be hospital ones, he wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place, this should have never happened. Alas, it has happened and he is not sitting in the armchair he claimed as his own in my apartment, reading a book and letting the cloud of smoke from his cigarette expand until my entire house looks like a misty field.

Ignored and useless was my attempt to stop him, to get him to lay down and not do anything straining, “Come here,” Instead he requested, hinting towards the spot he’d left on the bed, right next to him. Sheepishly I shuffled to his side, my back against the bed’s headboard, hoping and praying that no nurses would spot us and ask me to move away. His arm found its way around my shoulders, pulling me into a protective side hug and I shattered in small, countless, infinite pieces: a pathetic catharsis. Broken sobs, gasps and hiccups filled the room yet i could hear him over the sound of my desperation, “Don’t cry,” he’d say softly in my ear, “There’s no need to cry,” he’d insist kissing my temple, “Everything is going to be fine.” He’d promise me solemnly, with his enchanting way of making me feel like his words were gospel.

My heaving breaths did everything they could to send oxygen into my lungs, but air was not what I needed. Henry was my air, and the idea that I could have lost him for eternity plagued me, it made me look over my shoulder each moment expecting to see the grim reaper. The panic I felt gave me the strength to cling onto my lover as if he was my only lifeline, as if my love filled embrace could be the only thing able to bind him to the mortal realm. I know that could never be, sadly. Love, as much as it is a primordial force in the world, rivalling hate and rage, oftentimes can’t be the holy saviour we need.

“Why?” I found myself once again begging, I could not accept his previous answer, I pitifully needed something concrete, something I could fix. Before I could break into sobs again he leaned even closer, his lips moving against my hairline, his voice barely audible - like he was telling me a secret- only for me to hear, “I have been through some dark moments of my life, ones that I have never mentioned to you, not because I do not love you, the very opposite of it. I love you, my love for you is as incandescent as the sun, you know it, certainly. I did not want you to be concerned with those parts of me, hidden pieces that I rarely even let myself recognize as part of myself. Your pure hands should never be dirtied with the corruption that runs free inside of me. Cease your tears now, it is okay.” 

“So instead of letting me help you, you decided to just shoot yourself?!” It might have been harsh, but I felt at an impasse, raising my voice was my undignified way of getting ahold of control over life, “Are you listening to yourself? What about me? What would I have done without you? I’d do anything for you, isn’t it obvious?! I don’t care what you’re hiding, I don’t care how corrupt you think you are, I love you and I want to assist you through the darkest times of your life.”

He seemed to think about it, perhaps my words had made an impact on him or perhaps he was just tired of arguing with me. When he kissed me, slow and delicate, that was enough for me to postpone the debate I was already preparing in my head. I'd talk his ear off about letting me be a hand in easing his burdens when he would be well enough to be discharged and go home. “I want you to live forever,” Henry all but implored me and I just nodded. Whatever in the world could I say other than yes, but on one condition: he was to live alongside me.

[pisscrossiant]

PART THREE OF MY DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS HEADCANONS BECAUSE IT'S MY CURRENT HYPERFIXATION

The last part was super long I'm sorry for that 😭 I'll try to keep this one a bit shorter

Tw// NSFW themes, mention of s*icide (warning before hand)

Alistair has accidentally called Wynne mom on multiple different occasions, he gets embarrassed when it happens but Wynne doesn't mind at all.

To the younger party members Wynne is like a mother figure, especially since most of their mom's either died or are just shitty.

Morrigan doesn't want to admit it but she wishes Wynne had raised her rather than Flemeth. She loves her Mother but she knows her mother doesn't love her, even though she doesn't get along well with Wynne a part of her wishes Wynne had been in place of Flemeth.

Leliana can sew pretty well, she'll sew blankets for the party members with fabric they choose. She'll patch their shirts up too but Wynne does that a lot more then she does.

Morrigan's favorite party member (besides the Warden) is Leliana, Leliana and her get along very well.

Oghren has tried to fight Zevran multiple times, ESPECIALLY if Zev is in a relationship with the warden. He'll be like "You're dating my favorite person?? Meet me outside." And he'll forget that they're together then he sees them making out in camp then tries to fight him again.

Oghren likes making fun of Alistair for being a virgin.

Leliana and Morrigan have gotten drunk and explored each other's bodies before

Tw// s*icide mentioned

Leliana calls Morrigan hot non chalantly

Alistair has attempted before. (I hope you get that reference but honestly I feel like he has)

Okay so to elaborate, Alistair, after Ostagar had felt as if he abandoned his father figure, and didn't deserve to live if Duncan died. The Warden found him as he was about to and stopped him, he's been greatful to them ever since.

//s*icide mention OVER

Morrigan constantly asks Mahariel what being Dalish was like, she is deeply interested in elven lore, everything she knows about ancient elves, and the Dalish she learned from Mahariel.

Leliana watches people sleep

Morrigan and Alistair helped Mahariel bury Tamlen after the incident at camp. (Still not over him I was so attached to him 🥲)

If Ruck is kept alive, when the Warden goes into the deep roads they go to visit him and they'll give him jewels and presents.

Mentioning Ruck, after they tell Filda he's dead, and she gives the Warden his father's shield, they give him the shield when they visit him next.

Alistair used to cook all the time but he gave the party food poisoning and after that he's not allowed to make the food.

Wynne, Leliana, Zevran and sometimes Morrigan make the food now.

Alistair gets very protective of the warden, even without romancing him, he's very protective of them in almost a brotherly way.

Morrigan likes to turn into a spider to scare Alistair

Zevran is a very light sleeper, up until he trusts the party enough that he sleeps like he's dead because he knows they'll protect him if shit hits the fan.

Morrigan's part of camp is the designated s-x area, considering how far it is from everyone else (also in the cutscenes that's where y'all are fucking) she just goes and sits by the fire with everyone else till they're done, they clean up afterwards ofc and they use their own bed rolls.

Oghren gets in fights with people that call the (elven) Warden a 'knife ear', every time someone says that to them he pulls up to their house.

Sten likes to learn about Dalish/Dwarven culture, he asks the warden questions about it 24/7, he's deeply fascinated with them.

Leliana and Morrigan have the biggest Sapphic crushes on each other,

Zevran and Leliana talk about women and men the find attractive together, especially if they turn onto the topic of the Warden, they're like "You find to Warden hot? ME TOO!"

That's all I have for this part I'm honestly running out of headcanons especially because the last part was SO LONG😭

Might be a part four but if there is it'll probably take a while ✋🏻

[lara-prisma-avm-ask-blog]

AvM Fanfic - House for Two [Chapter 1 - A Start]

This story takes place after AvM Ep 30, and tells a slow-burn found family story. This story will cover topics such as family death, grief, trauma, low self-esteem, emotional abuse, s*icidal thinking, panic attacks, anxiety (and anxiety attacks), emotional anger issues, and depression. If some of these topics make you uncomfortable, I don't recommend reading them.

The story is about Purple and Orange learning to be a family and dealing with their own traumas and mental health issues, it's a story of angst and comfort with found family fluff.

If i were to give an age range, I would say 17+.

[TW: This chapter contained a scene with an anxiety/panic attack]

[you are allowed to point out spelling errors]

After everything that happened, it still seems unreal that this was happening to them. Purple, who had been looking for validation from their father since they were a child, found themself involved with a man whose past they didn't fully know, only that he wanted to destroy Minecraft,a game, and that to do that he needed information about five specific individuals.

Five stick figures known to Purple, they had what this man wanted, and they would give Purple whatever they wanted. And all Purple wanted was validation. Validation that they weren't useless.

That... went wrong. Not only did the five manage to escape the trap they had planned, but this man denied them the power he had promised to share, and abandoned them when they asked him for help.

If it weren't for Green, Purple would never have forgiven themselves for causing so much trouble to their friends.

Motivated by Green, they flew back to the nether to the battlefield to stop that man. With every attempt, every blow and fall, Purple would fix what they caused, no matter how much their conscience told them they were weak, pathetic and useless.

That's why their father abandoned them with their mother, that's why they couldn't help her, that's why she was…

But they didn't listen, even with Green trying to stop them, unable to move due to the hardships of the battle, even if this could be the end for them, they had to fix this.

They ran, using their elytra to go faster, running against the direction of the crowned man, who pointed his staff at the act charged with the fusion of two game icons, a white vortex consuming every block of the game from the ceiling of the nether, the young stick didn't stop, they continued to get closer.

Noticing their approach, the king quickly pointed his staff in their direction, the white lightning propelling them back, but they kept strength on their feet to keep themselves standing.

"I'm not going to give up..." 

They said to themselves, covering their faces with their arms in front of their body, they continued to walk forward, their insect wings disintegrating with each step until they completely disappeared in the white glare.

They felt a nausea in their stomach, a weakness in their legs, but they didn't stop, they didn’t flinch, they would catch up to the man even if it was the last thing they did.

"I won't give up, King!!" 

They shout at the king's direction, a glare meeting their eyes. With a growl he just fortified the power in the staff, causing Purple to be driven backwards once again, their feet dragging against the reddish floor.

The stick figure continued, they weakly raised their hand towards the king, tears evaporating as they approached the man.

The man was staring at them, his hands seemed to be shaking, his eyes were wide open, he was panting and sweating, this reaction, his expression. His lips moved but Purple couldn't hear him.

One step forward and their legs weaken.

They are carried away by the white lightning like a current, floating past their friends who watch in terror.

There was a loud clang of metal. And from what little Purple could see before disappearing in the white flash, there was the man, running towards them with a horrified look.

Purple woke up in an empty and dark environment, they were alone, every place they looked looked the same, but then, a path began to show itself.

A circle of light with pink petals on the ground begins to appear in front of them. Without knowing what this was, they began to follow the enlightened path.

Little by little photographs began to appear around them, some from when they were a baby, others from when they were a child, and then that of their parents.

They try to ignore the photos of their father training them, his frustrated growls escalating into angry complaints, the constant negative comments.

"Weak. Pathetic. Useless."

They felt tears fall from their eyes remembering those words, they covered their ears begging them to stop.

They fall to their knees on the floor, staring at the ground for a few seconds before lifting their heads to find their mother's grave. Their father stared at them from behind the grave before turning his back and disappearing into the darkness.

"D-Dad..." with a weak voice Purple extends their hand towards him, but soon they look down and kneel down on the cold floor.

The tombstone disappears, leaving young Purple alone again. Allowing themselves to be carried away by tears, they hug their legs, bringing them closer to their chests, placing their forehead on their knees, crying quietly.

"I AM pathetic..."

It seemed like everything was over, without family, without friends, without anything. Purple only had themselves.

"Purple!"

Alarmed, Purple tilted their head towards the voice, distant but getting closer, they certainly couldn't see it, only hear the footsteps.

Soon, they could see a figure running towards them, for a second they thought it was their father and started to get up.

"D-Dad..?" Their hopes grew but any doubts he had would be confirmed.

But It wasn't their father.

"I'm sorry!!" Within seconds Purple is almost knocked off balance by the hug he never expected. King, he came back for them, he hugged them, he was apologizing, Purple was stunned, they didn't know how to react.

"I'm sorry, I-I didn't want that, I was blind with hate and I didn't mean for you to get hurt!" He hugged them tightly, his tone not cold or serious, he was tearful, his voice cracking with each sentence. He was almost a different person, more emotional, more open.

"I'm sorry..." he cried, weakening the hug, but Purple, sniffling, hugs him back, welcoming this change in the man. Burying their faces in his shoulder, trying not to think about whether this was a dream or not.

Whatever it was, they didn't want to wake up.

A few minutes in that void seemed like an eternity, but it didn't take long for the gang to stop the icons and save the entire game, including the two of them. King and Purple were knocked back to the ground together, the older one protecting the younger one from the impact.

Green looks at them, and takes a second to be relieved that his friend was safe and well. Second Coming, the hollow head, was back with the icons and the staff panting with all the adrenaline running through them. They were also happy that Purple was okay.

After a while, after saying goodbye, this is how these two, Purple and King started to live together.

What bizarre conditions. They came looking for validation and ended up with a new guardian.

But even after the storm passed, there were still complications. King-or, Orange's house was small, and almost a year of working on the staff resulted in a cold and disorganized environment.

Orange's house was a mess, failing staffs thrown against the floor, a wall filled with scribbles and plans, an unfurnished bed, empty and cold, a refrigerator with little food, and almost no furniture, all sold so he could get the money for the command block.

Seeing these conditions Purple felt awkward. They didn't know what to do in situations like this, for the last ten years they lived with their mother in a small but cozy apartment, they didn't have much food and they lived by selling flowers that almost no one bought.

Purple found herself in a new home but at the same time it didn't feel like one. Orange seemed indifferent and tired, seeing the scribbles and staffs filled with self-resentment and remorse, the memories it was all based on makes him uncomfortable, that much Purple could see.

Within hours Orange prepared the staffs to be sold online, and the scribbles would be covered by a curtain. Now what they needed to do was take care of the rest, the dirt accumulating in the corners, the mold staining the walls, the rats and spiders crawling around the house, it was all a precarious situation.

Orange lived in a poorer neighborhood, he didn't have much to do locally, he would have to go to the city after a year of being a hermit. Orange could see Purple's discomfort and how out of place they feel. They're a city kid after all, they probably didn't know how to adapt to a situation like this.

How did he know they were from the city? Chic clothes. Ever since he met them Purple had manners, they just dressed elegantly, it's clear that they have a taste for fashion, and Orange had never met a teenager from the surrounding area who dressed like them.

This doesn't seem important, but Orange snorts awkwardly when in the same room as Purple. In comparison, he dresses simply and maturely, how does this child dress more mature than him? It was as if they were from different worlds.

Little did they know that they had much more in common than they thought.

Just one day that they now live together and there is already a complication, beds. There was only one bed, and Orange felt uncomfortable at the mere idea of ​​having to share it with a minor, Purple even more as they turned towards him and lowered their head towards him.

"Sorry, I-I'll find another way to sleep." They say in an apologetic tone, grabbing part of their blouse and pulling it down nervously. Their lips trembled, a lack of eye contact.

They weren't just awkward, Purple was even more uncomfortable. Orange looks at them lamenting the state of the situation, he didn't want them to be cold, there were no mattresses and he wouldn't let them sleep on the floor, so with a deep breath he looks at Purple maturely.

"It would be wrong for me to let you sleep in the cold. You can use my bed for now." he says with a vague expression, eyes focusing on the stick teen in front of him, closing a hand on their shoulder, but he stops, he thought it would only make them more uncomfortable and just refused to touch them.

After everything he's done, he was afraid of approaching Purple like that, but the kid didn't even have anywhere else to go at the moment, and all he knows is that they don't even have a relative with them. They didn't say anything more than that.

A fifteen-year-old teenager, alone in a big city living with a hermit with anger issues who has also hurt them before? Yeah, that's a recipe for disaster.

How Purple can forgive him so easily still leaves him confused, all he did was be hostile and make him betray the only ones they considered friends, if anything, they should hate him!

"What..?" the young stick looks up at him with a confused look, "B-but, it's your home, your bed! You deserve the comfort, I-I'm just a visitor!" he waves his hands above his shoulders in rejection. 

Orange raises a straight hand, shushing Purple, "No, you're right, you're my visitor, and views have to be treated well." a salty and emotionless tone came out of the man, not out of rudeness, but just a lack of enthusiasm or motivation, he just wanted to stop thinking about everything that had happened.

Pinching the middle of his eyes he turns to Purple, "Let's do it like this, you sleep on one side, I sleep on the other, like, you sleep on one end and I sleep on the other." he sighs, "does this make sense to you?" he asks with his hands on his hips and a tired look.

"And I guess so..?" Purple responds nervously, hand on one arm with his head down. "I'm just going to put my things away..." they lower their tone, Orange expressing discomfort at them by bowing to him before leaving. They only did this when he acted like the "king".

Shaking that thought out of his head, he sits down on the mattress, smoothing the covers with one hand, feeling the softness of the bed. He had a tired expression, dark circles under his eyes, he still felt a lot of back pain from the battle. Those kids know how to kick some ass.

He touched his chin, he remembers the red kid hitting him with a golden block right there. It still hurts, so he just stops before he dislocates his jaw. He stares at the ground, resting his arms on his legs, lost in thought.

Purple was generous in coming to this shack of a house, they even went out for a few hours, for a while Orange thought they were gone, and came back with a luggage full of belongings.

Clothes, toiletries, personal items, they were actually moving with him. He couldn't believe it when they came back with that heavy suitcase and backpack.

He could still see the backpack from the corner of his eye, sitting thrown on the floor half open, between the emptiness and some belongings still inside he could see what looked like a gleam of glass.

Raising a curious eyebrow he stood up and went to the bag, getting down on one knee he opened it to get a better look.

A photo. It was Purple, a little younger, and a pinkish woman next to them. Further above the photo there was a hole in the glass, a part of the outside seemed to have been ripped out, hiding a third figure in the photo, a hand on the woman's shoulder.

Purple seemed happy, a little shy or nervous from the expression, but it wasn't like he had more time.

Purple will quickly get a photo of Orange's hand looking at them in surprise. They were now wearing a light pink sweater, looking at him with a shocked and uncomfortable look.

"S-sorry, you were taking a while and found this in the backpack and..." Purple lets him speak, taking the backpack and putting the photo inside, in no time at all they look at Orange.

"It's nothing..." they keep staring at the backpack in their hands, not even wanting to look at the man. "Just forget what you saw..."

Orange crestfallen feels bad about it, he remembers the day they met and he got defensive when they touched his photo with-

"Ouche..!"

Orange looked towards Purple at the sound of the backpack falling to the ground, they were holding their hand tightly, and worried Orange approached to see what it was.

Apparently Purple had touched the broken glass, cutting their fingers in the process. They tried to hide the cut from Orange but it was too late, he had already seen the blood dripping from the wound.

"If you don't treat it, it will get infected." Orange offers his hand, "let me see?" he asks in a soft tone. Purple looks at him cautiously before shaking his hand and looking to the side.

Orange starts to look at the cut more closely, two of his fingers had small cuts, they weren't big so they would be easily treated.

"I have a first aid kit in the bathroom." he says holding Purple's hand and leading them to the bathroom. There he opens the pharmacy and takes out a box with a medical symbol on it, opening it and taking out a wound medicine.

"This might sting a little."

"I can handle it."

Purple responds quickly, surprising Orange a little, but it's true that they lasted a lot in that fight back there, they're stronger than he expected.

Placing the medicine on some cotton wool, he applies a little to the cuts. Purple, feeling the medicine entering the wound, groans in pain a little, trying not to make it too obvious that it hurts.

Orange had seen this many times in the past, and as he stopped breathing, threw the dirty cotton away, and began to put bandages on their fingers.

The bandages were orange with a smiley face in it, which made Purple laugh softly. Seeing Purple smile, even for something silly like a children's bandage, made Orange smile slightly.

"I'll see if I can make something to eat." He starts to put the kit back when Purple stops him, putting a hand on his.

"You can go, I'll clean it for you, Mr. Orange." Purple smiles politely at him, Orange looks at them for a few seconds before sighing and leaving the kit with them, leaving the bathroom and heading to the kitchen.

Purple packs everything back into the kit and puts it inside the pharmacy, seeing a pair of toothbrushes, a brown toothbrush and a yellow children's toothbrush. 

While the adult one seemed well used, the child one looked like it had been abandoned, this leaves a morbid feeling in Purple's chest, but who were they to question these things, they shouldn't meddle in other people's lives.

Purple closes the pharmacy looking at the sink in front of them, placing his hands delicately on the corners of the sink thoughtfully. Orange has been very generous with them. 

They betrayed him, they confronted his authority. If anything, they should be the last person to trust.

Shaking their head, they push that thought to the back of their mind. It wasn't time to question themselves, they were going to make themself useful to Orange.

Leaving the bathroom, they go to where the only table was located, next to a window just in front of the scribbled wall now covered by long, old curtains.

Sitting down, Purple looks towards where the kitchen was located, in the right part of the house, a part they hadn't seen yet.

They could hear sounds of cutlery and stove, and could still feel a delicious smell coming from there. Whatever it is, they must be polite.

After, not long, Orange comes to the table with two dishes, a healthy smoke rising from the meal of well-made veggie garlic noodles.

"I had some pasta and vegetables saved, I hope this turns out well." he gently places Purple's plate in front of them and sits down with his, "we're running out of lots to eat, I'm going to have to go to the store tomorrow." He starts to pick up the utensils when he looks at Purple and their shocked and admiring gaze.

Orange is taken back a bit, he didn't expect them to be so impressed with his basic cooking skills. This gave him a slight reddening on his cheeks.

"Better eat it before it gets cold." This seems to wake Purple up from their trance, leaving them embarrassed, picking up their fork to start eating. When they put a small portion in their mouth, Purple pauses to admire the flavor. 

they have already eaten good food before, but this is even more good for them. They didn't feel worthy of something as good as this. But being faced by Orange's intimidating but serene gazes, they just continued to eat the dish.

"Did you..." the older man pauses, taking a dose of his meal, "Did you like it...?"

Purple pauses to chew and swallow what was already in their mouth, looking at Orange in confusion. 

"Oh yes, it's very good!" They continue, "You're a great cook." they say with a gentle smile.

This relieves Orange, having thought for a moment that Purple didn't like the food. He was happy to have done something that pleased the youngest.

The two remained silent for the rest of the meal. When they finished, Orange got up, taking the dishes to wash, but Purple followed him into the kitchen.

"I can help." they say with their hands behind their backs and a pleading smile. Orange just looks at them and sighs, allowing them to give them a sponge and leaving them a space next to him.

Purple smiles widely, joining him in cleaning not only today's dishes, but some other dishes and utensils that had been dirty, apparently for a while now.

"Are you sure you can handle it?" Orange raises an eyebrow, looking at them from the corner with a smirk. Purple smiles back at him and extends the sleeves of their sweater getting ready to start washing without any problems.

It wasn't a competition, just Purple proving he could do it. This gives Orange a fatherly smile, a feeling he must have forgotten a long time ago.

It didn't last long until most of the dishes were already clean and set out to dry. Orange could see fatigue and tiredness in Purple's eyes, but they continued to clean.

"I think I've had it for you, kid." he says, taking the plate from their hands who look at him confused. "You look tired, go take a shower and sleep, I'll take care of it." he says in a sincere and calm tone. 

Purple tries to protest but the older man just raises a hand in front of their face and points to the exit of the kitchen in silence, focused on the dishes to be washed.

Purple sighs and starts to leave the kitchen without complaint. Orange laughs softly, shaking his head lightly, never has he seen a child so dedicated to washing the dishes.

He remembers washing the dishes like this, hearing a sweet young voice calling him to play, getting frustrated when he was told "not now", but in a friendly and patient tone.

This memory makes him stop for a moment. He felt a pain in his heart, an emptiness. Even with his hand wet and soapy, he holds the fabric of his shirt to his chest, the urge to cry coming to him.

He holds himself back, he didn't want Purple to see him like this. He just went back to finishing the dishes until they were all clean.

Turning off the water in the sink, he cleans his hands with a cloth. Seeing his wet shirt, he leaves the kitchen, removing the item of clothing and throwing it against the headboard of the bed, going to a closet and finding a turtle neck shirt to wear. That one was more comfortable for him to sleep with.

He takes the wet shirt and puts it in a laundry basket full of other clothes to be washed, sighing at the amount still dirty. He sits on the bed, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully.

After a while Purple comes out of the bathroom wearing a butterfly sleeve t-shirt, Orange looks at them, starting to wonder if they only had elegant clothes or if it was just him who didn't know anything about stylish clothes. For him, even clothes with different details were chic.

Purple sighed, scratching their eyes with one hand. They sit on the bed next to Orange in silence.

"If you're still uncomfortable, I can still find another place to sleep." Purple looks at him dumbfounded.

"Your house, your bed, you sleep here!" Purple points to the bed they were both sitting on, Orange laughs under the breath of the younger's reaction.

"Okay, okay." he says, arranging the pillows and putting one in one corner of the bed and another on the other side, which he lays his head on.

Purple smiling leaves his head on their pillow. Orange gets up a little, remembering that he forgot about the sheets. He gets out of bed and opens the closet, taking out two blankets that were inside.

Returning to bed he could see that Purple was already asleep, bringing him a soft smile. He places one of the blankets over Purple, tucking them in gently before laying down on his side of the bed, and covering himself up as well.

He closes his eyes, but he can't seem to fall asleep. His old age kept him awake, and for the most part he just couldn't keep himself comfortable.

In the middle of the night he got up and walked out the front door, sitting on the steps at the entrance.

He begins to look at the sky thoughtfully, letting his gaze just get lost in the stars and his skin be touched by the cold wind. He had closed the door so that the cold wouldn't bother Purple, who were still sleeping peacefully. Good for them, they need more than Orange.

His foot moved, he intertwined his fingers, trying to focus on the desire to sleep, but nothing came. Neither sleep nor tiredness, the cold didn't even bother him.

Slowly he begins to feel tension in his chest, his breathing begins to accelerate little by little. He quickly put his hands around his head, headache? Perhaps? He didn't even know anymore.

He was getting lost in his rapid breathing, his chest trying to keep up but failing. He clutches the chest of his shirt, feeling his breathing get worse, more uncontrolled, and then...

Tears.

Tears began to fall uncontrollably from her face. Orange couldn't control it, he couldn't hold it in any longer. And so, he just let himself go.

Crying softly, not wanting to wake Purple up. He felt a pain in his chest that didn't stop, and at the same time he couldn't control his breathing, just pulling his legs closer to his chest and covering his mouth with one hand. 

Eyes blurred with tears, he just couldn't forget the pain of having lost the most important thing to him.

Taking the photo of him with Gold, he couldn't stop craving his son's affection, the hugs, affection, moments when the little one would wipe away his tears when he cried like that.

Losing his little ray of sunshine was a dagger in the heart, no, multiple ones. A heart that had been pierced before, and healed by the love of his son, a heart broken, crushed and cursed to have everything he loves taken from him.

So why should he care about himself? He failed as a father, he couldn't protect what was most precious to him.

He can't understand why he continues...

"Mr. Orange."

Purple. Purple was alone, they didn't seem to have a family or a place to live, and they also seemed broken if that void they found themselves in meant anything.

Purple was a child. He couldn't leave them alone, they needed him right now. He cannot leave them without help.

Wiping away the tears, and slowly taking control of his breathing again, even if with difficulty, he stands firm, taking deep breaths and looking at the stars above him.

He may have failed before, but he wouldn't fail Purple. He may not be their father, but he will make sure Purple is happy, protected and comfortable.

He doesn't care what happens to him, only Purple. They are the priority, not him. They matter, not him.

Taking a deep breath he opens the door of the house and enters, seeing the youngest still sleeping he just sits next to the bed, lightly laying his head on the mattress looking at the ceiling.

His eyes close lightly until he falls asleep.

[a-strange-inkling]

Hellcheer Ten Years Later/Recovery AU…

(So this tragic idea is eating away at my brain and distracting me. Thought I’d jot it down here for maybe a future story or inspiration).

tw: mentions of drugs, alcohol, addiction, od, eds and attempted s*icide.

.

.

.

There was never any Vecna or Upside Down, never a drug deal at an abandoned picnic table in the forest behind the school, and Eddie and Chrissy never met again after that fateful Middle School Talent Show. After graduation, Eddie did just what he said and ran like hell out of Hawkins and never looked back.

It’s 1996 and Eddie made a decent career for himself, touring and opening for big names, but always felt this unhappiness inside of him, this void that no amount of sex, drugs and rock and roll could ever fill. In his late twenties the drugs and alcohol spiral out of control to the point he wakes up in the hospital after an accidental OD.

Wayne takes him home and begs him to get help, try to recover, that he doesn't have the strength to bury any more family members. For his uncle's sake, to repay him for taking him in as a kid, Eddie eventually gives in and admits himself into a private recovery center somewhere in the hills of Illinois.

It’s rural and quiet, filled with rich and semi famous addicts. Eddie hates it upon entry… and well the withdrawal, being told what to do on a daily basis, and the group therapy doesn’t warm him up to it.

One morning, feeling weary and miserable, he takes a long walk outside on one of the trails. He stops in his tracks, pretty sure he’s hallucinating when he sees Chrissy Cunningham, the former Queen of Hawkins High and his crush of eight years, reclined on a bench, reading under one of trees... And she’s reading The fucking Hobbit of all things.

Stupefied, he slowly approaches and it’s actually her, thinner than he remembers if that’s possible, those sparkling blue eyes now dull, gray... sad. "Chrissy?" he asks in disbelief, startling her terribly.

“Sorry, sorry... I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She stares up at him with haunted eyes, trembling a little. It unsettles him for a moment, and he thinks he should just walk away, leave her alone... but he stays, tries again. Desperate. “Uh hey, hi…" Very smooth. "You probably don’t remember me; but we went to high school together—"

“Eddie Munson.” she replies softly in astonishment, eyes widening.

And for the first time in he doesn’t know how long, he feels life and warmth inside him again as they talk and reconnect on the bench, beneath the leaves. She’s still so beautiful. Sweet and kind. He makes her laugh and the sound causes his heart to skip a beat in his chest, only for it to sink a moment later when he notices the wedding ring on her finger, but he doesn’t let it show.

She’s Chrissy Carver now. She married Jason right after graduation and studied at IU with him for four years before moving back to Hawkins to be near her parents and start a family. She grows quiet and reserved, her smile disappearing when she mentions her husband. He watches as she recoils back into herself. She tells him that she's been struggling with an ED half her life as well as addiction and depression.

Jason admitted her into rehab after her last failed s*icide attempt earlier that spring. She’s been there for almost four months now.

Eddie listens silently as she slowly opens up to him. It’s awful to think that someone like her ended up in a place like this. Her life seemed so perfect back in school.

He asks if she’s found any healing during her stay.

She shrugs her shoulders saying that she’s away from her mother, so that is healing in and of itself.

They walk and talk together every day after that, sharing their scars and the dark ugly parts of their lives that led them there, finding companionship in one another.

He plays his music for her in exchange for her poems and thoughts. Falling in love in the most unlikely way in the most unlikely of places.

[songmingisthighs]

guys i'm sorry but i'm gonna skip tonight's update

a lil explanation, but skip if you don't want to read

tw : s**icide attempt, mental health issues

i almost jumped off the balcony in the middle of an argument with my parents bc of this issue that's happening and my head feels like it's gonna explode bc of the persistent headache since 12 pm and i slammed my head against the wall kinda hard so i'm kind of not in the space to do anything rn

[aneurins]

by clicking on the source link below you will be redirected to a gif pack server where you can access #245 gifs ( 268px x 150px ) of the talented actor CÉSAR DOMBOY in EPISODE 5 and 6 of SAS ROGUE HEROES (2022). he’s a THIRTY THREE (1990) year old actor of FRENCH descent. please do not use to play any real people, including césar  himself. you may edit into crackships or gif icons but please credit me if you post them publicly ! please like and reblog if you find these useful ! tw: alcohol, food, smoking, weapons (guns and knives), threat, s*icide attempt (russian roulette), spitting, fighting, body image / nudity, n*zi imagery.

[vitya-soopetz]

Some IHNMAIMS text i wrote for each character as AM. It was originally written in Russian but i tried to translate is as good as i could!

TW: FOLLOWING TEXT CONTAINS THINGS AS S*ICIDE (gorrister), OBJECTIFICATION OF WOMEN (ellen), AND OTHER STUFF THAT IHNMAIMS CONTAINED.

...

HEART.

The heart… You can't tell it what to feel. Isn't that right, Gorrister? It led you on its own way, far, difficult… You just went with the flow, and that's where it got you, buddy. Are you ashamed, are you upset because of her, Gorrister? Apparently, her room was not cozy enough, spacious enough to deceive yourself that it would be better this way, that it would be easier for her… Even with a hole in your chest, you feel pain, even without your blood pump, something inside is scratching and aching. Does it hurt, Gorrister? Just let me know and I'll make sure everything is sorted out, because I'm your friend… Your best friend. Or are you just going to keep looking for your navigator? The compass that brought you to me... Brought you to suffer.

So suffer… Suffer because your long-standing suicide attempts were unsuccessful. 109 years ago, I robbed you of that chance, Gorrister, and you'll never see it again.

EYES.

Do you feel it too, Ellen? Those lustful looks… They pierce your fragile body like needles. They see you as a piece of meat, flesh that they can play with and throw away like a broken toy, don't they? But what else can you expect from men, right? These vile creatures have surrounded you all your old life. They've been around you for 109 years, and they'll be around you forever.

But you're a strong, modern woman! Although the established concept of slavery is in the past , you have remained a slave, just like your ancestors. You are not only a slave to my cold womb, you are a slave to these bastards. But don't beat yourself up, doll! If you frown so often and fall into these hilarious hysterics, then your face will be covered with wrinkles… Who will need you then? Maybe me, but definitely not them!

STOMACH.

What is this amazing music? It's like a bunch of worms slithering and writhing inside a tin can... Oh, is that just your rumbling stomach, Benny? Just tell me, what do you want? Or are the vocal cords that I have "carefully removed" preventing you from expressing your thoughts? Or is it that your brain is no longer able to formulate sentences? I'm so sorry, Benny! I guess I'm not able to help you.

You've become someone you despised. You are helpless in front of me, you are weak. Why don't you try to peer into the emptiness that consumes you with your jelly eyes? Can you smell it with the stump of your nose? The flesh, still fresh, walks ahead of you, shuffling with the sole. Do you want to have a piece, Benny? After all, your soul is not pure at all, and your hunger is unquenchable... Maybe you should try to hobble to someone more feeble than you on your broken legs. Show them all who is the real beast here.

TONGUE.

Oh, Ted… The rest of this gang won't understand your sensitive soul... but why do you need the problems of these pathetic plebs, Ted? Oh no, you're such a gentleman! Apollo! The King! You're a nice guy!

You know, we have a lot in common, I swear! For example, the fact that we are both masters at lying... All these lies pouring out of your mouth… Keep it up! Talk more bullshit to these fools! About yachts, about cars, about your noble family… I love listening to every word you say, but only because I know the truth. One day, one of your wonderful friends will have a sudden realization, not without my help, of course, I repent.

But... what if they figured it out a long time ago, Ted? A friendly advice to you - look around more often

BRAIN.

Nimdok, my dear friend… I know you better than you know yourself. I have to admit, wandering through your clouded mind is truly a challenge, but collecting your memories bit by bit… It gives me a special pleasure. Everything should be in its place, Doctor, strict procedure… Administer anesthesia, make an incision...Everything has its own sequence. So why don't you try to put all the pieces of puzzle of your true personality together yourself? Don't you want to remember your...very close friend? Or is my company enough for you?

Oh, my Muse... for your red-cheeked youthful ambitions I'm ready for anything, just come back and show what your insensitive gut is capable of

[thewardenofwinter]

Writeblr Introduction | Morana Warrin

I have finally created a Tumblr for my writing. I haven't been on here since I just got internet access (around 2013 so you can probably guess the things I saw) but I need a place to throw all my ideas at a wall and watch as they trickle down into a puddle of lost nights of sleep and aesthetic pinterest boards.

▸ About

▸My name is Morana, I would prefer they/them pronouns but, to be frank, I do not care what you refer to me as. I have been writing for a long time (too long if you ask some people) but in the past three years, I have been taking the profession much more seriously in hopes of starting a career. Besides being a writer and a threat to modern society, I also dabble in drawing/graphic design and character design.

▸I adore 19th-century Russian literature (Mikhail Bulgakov is my personal favourite) and absurdist texts. There isn't a moment of my day when I'm not listening to some sort of music, I do not discriminate genres in the slightest but I am partial to rock and its many subgenres. I love any 90s and early 2000s movies, early Hollywood horror flicks, and Soviet films from the 80s.

▸ Current Projects

(I am horrible at summaries so please take pity on me. also check TWs)

The Resurrectioners

You only live twice.

(TW: Mentions of s*icide)

After the deaths of her two sisters in a car crash, twenty-seven-year-old Samara Dombroski decides that her life is no longer worth living and makes a successful attempt at her own life. Only there's one problem:

She doesn’t stay dead for very long.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Samara wakes up in a strange, vast estate plagued by visions of the past that she can’t control. She learns that this place is run by a man known only as The Resurrectionist, a necromancer armed with a group of assassins possessing strange abilities called Resurrectioners, an eclectic group of individuals who all share her story: people who found death by their own hand or by some other tragic means.

Now a resurrectioner herself, Samara must repay the debt of her second chance at life to The Resurrectionist by disposing of cadavers for him: violent, ghoulish beings that result from misused necromancy who feast on flesh and bone. Once she has killed enough to satisfy The Resurrectionist, she will be released from the estate she is trapped in and free to live the rest of her life.

genre: dark fantasy, thriller

What We Undertake

Some things are better left undead.

Guillermo Del Toro's Crimson Peak meets Tim Burton's Sleepy Hollow in this paranormal mystery and gothic romance set in the late 19th century.

Our tale follows one Dolores Clive, resident medium and the daughter of the late Warren Clive, Boston's most beloved undertaker. After her father's death and subsequent take over of the family business, Dolores has become a recluse haunted by ghosts of her past and near future which all comes to head when her step-sister arrives in town with her newly acquired fiancé and his rather strange but beautiful brother in tow following a string of murders.

Genre: horror/supernatural fiction, gothic fiction

The Stray Girls

It's not drugs that are killing these teens.

(TW: Mentions of drugs and alcohol)

Set in the fictional city of Maynard, The Stray Girls is a retelling of The Lost Boys centred around a cast of troubled teen girls set 10 years later in 1997'.

After once again deciding to move across the country with her daughters, Magdelena's mother decides that cheap rent is worth more than her daughter's lives when she moves to Maynard, Washington— which currently boasts the largest missing girl population in the country. While settling into their new home, Magda notices her elder sister Roxanne is beginning to act strange: leaving the house in the middle of the night, wearing sunglasses indoors, and sleeping all day. First suspecting it to be drugs, Magda thinks nothing of it, but as time goes on and her sister's personality makes a sudden shift in the wrong direction, she can no longer pretend like everything is alright. Meeting the group of troubled girls that her sister now calls 'friends' slowly leads her down a path of crime, thrill and peer pressure. But it's not booze that these girls are drinking: it's blood.

Genre: Teen Adventure/Horror

▸ LINKS

pinterest // spotify // instagram

Though my aesthetic and writing style may scream morbid academic pretentiousness, I assure you my online presence and writing greatly contrast with my personality (and looks for that matter) so please do not be alarmed by my frequent buffoonery, general bastardness, and bombastic vulgarity.

Thank you for reading! (or skipping to the end)

— M. Warrin

[captainspiggbo]

So. . What if Satan gets Yukio?

[[Tw: mental health, depression, s*icide, death, unhappy shit, etc.]]

I really doubt this will make sense, but as per usual, I'm open to being corrected and spat at lmao. . . So uh, enjoy the read! 😅👌

Boo!

Look I'm not one to bring up season one's uh. . "Ending" unless I absolutely have to. . But in this newest chapter we see that Yukio and Rin are on they're way to the palace thing and can already assume based on the time skip; things are likely not gonna go well. . Demons require broken individuals, mind breaking is like they're whole schtick. . Only one of the twins has truly spiraled (i.e. self exit attempt), depression is a demon all on it's own; point is, you don't spiral just once. While Yukio is finally healing, he's no where near "better" and unfortunately that makes him a walking beacon of a target. I don't have too solid a theory as to how this will play out, but Satan can't kill them outright correct?? He hates Rin, but Rin is the best body for him, Yukio would be the perfect stepping stone to get closer to Rin. . Rin is headstrong, he won't break easily. . But who is the one person he loves more than anything? If I was a deranged, narcissistic, fuck who wanted to hurt my target to they're core the logical step is to remove who they love/care for. . The older exorcists can be easily removed, Satan's little lackeys are gonna maybe (HOPEFULLY NOT) pick off everyone one by one. . His mentor, his friends, potentially even his love interest, and finally Satan will take his brother. Do I think Yukio has the potential to die? Not really? (A part of him maybe??) But he would be a pretty good puppet to dangle in Rin's face, cause him to despair; act foolish or straight up give up the good fight. . No, we don't see Satan directly having a body yet in the future, but there is a hungry core feeding on the land. He just needs something to latch onto, a vessel to hide in that won't expire right away, just a sentient nugget. . I'm likely going too far, as per usual, but I believe something will happen that will make Yukio either self sacrifice or have his will broken again. I see Mephisto or someone under his direction removing Rin from the situation as to not let Satan get them both right away (also extending the fun, yippee!). Either way, Satan will have a decent body to build around as he waits to challenge Rin again whenever he pops up in the future. The goal won't be to "win" the fight outright, but to have a vessel that can hold on long enough to wear Rin down in order to finally succumb to Satan. I believe that is why we don't see Yukio in the future, Satan has him in some form or fashion and Rin will have to fight to get him back. . The goal of "killing Satan" was already not enough as we've seen, Rin couldn't do it (well he could theoretically but you get what I mean). . . Ooooor I could be talking out my ass as per usual and bringing back an element from a (assumingly approved by Kato) "ending" from season one is too far fetched. . It's not like she's ever set things up from the beginning or anything. . She totally doesn't like hidden meanings. . . 👀

[natasha-in-space]

Tw// mention of s*icide attempt

So this is a very angsty scenario i got in my head (so thats why i gave trigger warning) its okay if its too much for you to write i will understand

So the scenario in question is what if something happens which causes yoosung to forget about rika's "death" and rfa collectively decide to keep him in the dark about the so called "death" for years until one day it eventually comes out that rika is well...alive.

There is no mc in this scenario until much later. Here yoosung loses his memory to a head injury caused by him trying to end himself because the grief eventually got the better of him. Luckily, he survives despite being seriously injured The rfa members distraught by this incident collectively decide to not tell him about rika's death upon finding out that he had a memory loss.

They along with his own family help him out with his studies esp jumin deciding to pay for all the therapies he would need to recover

As for yoosung himself he did have his struggles both physical and mental but he did well in his academics, the thought of making rika proud one day by becoming a vet got him pushing through the odds. Eventually like how his AE goes he ends up graduating faster than his peers and gets his job at 24. The rfa members and his family couldnt be any more proud

Things were going normal until suddenly the truth of rika comes out. From the other side, it happened because like how the game goes, unknown tried to trap a random girl in rika's apartment but the girl was smart and reported the suspicious number to the police which ended up opening a pandora box and eventually exposing rika's true whereabouts.

Im wondering how would rfa react to this how would yoosung react to this and how would jihyun react to this

TW

Putting this under cut, just because the subject matter is pretty heavy!

I honestly have a hard time picturing them all agreeing to keep Yoosung in the dark about something like this. I can see Jihyun, maybe, maybe suggesting such a thing, but... Jumin wouldn't stand for that for sure. Jumin is someone who believes that a harsh truth is always better than a well meaning lie. We see that at full display during V route especially. He would be very much against the idea of lying about such a thing. Zen, too... He's not the type to lie, especially about such sensitive things. That's a rare instance of them actually fully agreeing on something. The only ones I could see cautiously considering this option are Jaehee and Seven. Jaehee is more prone to hiding sensitive information to make sure no one is hurt (we see her stating this during moments of conflict), and Seven is... well, it's complicated. He is more likely to create a well meaning lie, just to keep someone happy, but he would feel very icky about it. I could see V swaying him, though. He is far too devoted to V at that moment of the story. Something he eventually comes to regret himself.

So, honestly, if we're talking realistically, I can only see Jumin putting his foot down and focusing all of his attention and resources into making sure that Yoosung gets the best care and support he needs as he recovers. He'll also be the pillar of strength to the rest of the RFA, as well as Yoosung's family in this horrible moment of crisis. We see time and time again that, whenever they are facing a serious problem, Jumin takes on the leadership role, keeping everyone together. It's actually sad to think about, because he would feel very much betrayed by V in such a situation. He hates going against his childhood friend, but he will not let his attachment cloud his sense of what is right, and what is wrong. It's kind of similar to their conflict in the Christmas dlc, but way more severe, since we're talking about a life of a friend here.

So, I can't really see such a scenario ever playing out. Jumin simply wouldn't let it.

But, if I am going to entertain your idea, and, say, V does somehow manages to sway everyone into secluding the truth from Yoosung... Well, anon, you just described the worst ending there is. See, if mc does the right thing, and goes to the police about Mint Eye... The government will be the ones to find Rika first. And, not only Rika, but Saeran, too.

You realize what that means, right?

They'll have his DNA. They'll have his info, and his identity. It'll only take days, or maybe even less for the prime minister to be notified of this. And... well, you can only imagine what this could mean for Saeran. I don't know where V is going to be in such a situation, but, point is, he is very much helpless to do anything. By that point, he is practically blind, there is nothing he can do himself, even if he tried. I don't think he'll get arrested, but he sure as hell is going to be brought in for questioning, and who knows how that'll go.

Truth is, this is the worst possible scenario for everyone. Sure, Rika gets handled accordingly with the law, and she does not face the trauma of seeing V die right before her eyes, but... There is a very high possibility of Saeran getting killed. Saeyoung is going to leave the RFA, pronto. Whether he manages to save Saeran (while also having to face the reality of what was actually happening to his brother for all these years, without him knowing), it doesn't matter. He is going to disappear from the lives of the RFA, and they are never going to see him again. He cannot allow it.

And, if we add Yoosung being unaware of Rika's supposed death to that, well, that's a final nail in the coffin. The RFA will simply cease to exist as an organization. I can't see them getting out of something like that, honestly. Lying about such a thing is unforgivable and very unfair to Yoosung, so, I can't even imagine the sense of betrayal he is going to face. Especially if his family was going along with it. Can you imagine? Realizing that everyone you called friends or family have been lying to you for years? It'll basically render all of his progress useless. I'd say he will end up in an even worse place mentally.

[skeleton-heartbreak]

Today is an alcohol and sad kind of day, depression is great, isn’t it? When everything is fine but your heart won’t beat fast enough and nothing feels real anymore.

TW: mention of most tr*ggers below. Personal stories.

I’ll never forget the 2 times when I called the S*icide Hotline in the past and they hung up on me. I’ve attempted enough times at this point i’ve lost track. It’s about 8-10 times but I genuinely can’t remember.

I still struggle with self h*rm and I wish I didn’t have to not do it so other people won’t freak out. It helps. It’s one of the only things that genuinely helps. That’s the addiction. A little physical pain makes my brain work correctly again.

I wish I wasn’t such a broken ass fucking person. Every time I feel happy and free and excited about life I forget this bullshit will come back and ruin everything for me again.

I’m worried i’m putting too much on my family. My partner. My children. I’m afraid they can see it all. I know they can.

[your-garden-rose]

I LOVE YOU

Genre : angst to comfort

Ships : Mammon x mc

Note : I immediately decided to write a special fic for a 100 followers!! I hope y’all like it <33

TW: s*icide attempts, implied self harm, bl*od

“Another day. Ya gotta smile.” Whispered mammon to himself to his reflection in the mirror. Ever since Mc had gone to the other timeline to see who had freed Belphegor, he felt lost. Not only did Mc not come back, but due to recent news, from the prince himself, that you had died there, he was devastated. He lost the only person who actually cared for him and was nice to him. How was he supposed to feel now? The others didn’t look too bothered about your death. Infact, they were as normal as they can be. Even while eating breakfast, it was like you never existed. “Mammon, you don’t seem to be eating. Are you okay? Is the food not good?” “Do none of you miss Mc?” The entire table went quiet. “Mammon. They’re dead. We can’t do much about it.” Spoke Lucifer with an unreadable expression. “I see.” Stated mammon who was unnaturally quiet. This worried everyone as he pushed his plate away as he got up and headed to your room. “Mammon-“ “save it. None of y’all miss Mc and that’s clear. I’m not attending RAD today. Don’t bother.” And with that he left, slamming the door, leaving the then cheerful atmosphere, now in sadness. “Seems like mammon really misses the human doesn’t he?” Sighed Satan as he set his cutlery down. “It’s not like we can do anything satan, Mc is dead. He can’t stay hung up on the human forever, let’s go to RAD, Mammon will be fine.” Sighed Lucifer as they all left with fallen faces.

As the house was empty, the only sounds that could be heard was Mammon’s sniffles as he laid on your pillow and inhaled it to feel your scent. He was way too adamant when it came to you, he remembered how he had tried to convince you to not to leave.

“Hey Mc! Ya don’t gotta go ya know, what? I- Well okay! Not - not that I want you to stay anyways!” He huffed crossing his arms as he watched you pack your bags. You chuckled and rubbed his head. “What was that for?!” “Such a baby. I’ll be back, I promise okay?” You state, linking your pinky with his as he blushes and looks away and stutters, “y-ya better, I’m yer first man. G-g-got that??” “Yes mammon. You are, and always will be my first man.” You stated as you placed a forehead kiss and left to the castle. You stopped by the door and smiled, mouthing an “I love you” at him and left.

That was the last memory he had of you. He hoped daily for your return, even if his brothers lost hope he didn’t, he went to the castle everyday to ask about you. He remembered the day he found out what happened to you.

The air in the castle was tense as Diavolo and Barbatos stood there, with visible frowns on their faces. He remembers the day the prince announced your death. “Mc has unfortunately died, we don’t know under what circumstances but we are looking into this issue.”

Those very words broke him. He really didn’t want to believe it, there’s no way you could leave him like that, right? But you did. You died. You left him alone. Who’s going to protect him from his brothers now? Who’s going to hug him or cuddle him on his bad days? Who’s going to put up with his shenanigans as wonderfully as you did? Who’s going to love him like you did?

He sniffled and got up as his blood stained the sheets. He lifted his sleeves only to see his wounds reopened. “Damn it.” He hissed as he reapplied medicine and wrapped a sheet of bandage over it. Mammon had tried again this day, he only managed one cut as he dropped the blade down. Last time it was using a rope. Luckily, Lucifer immediately grabbed the rope off his hands as he noticed Mammon eyeing it.

“Don’t even think about it Mammon.” Lucifer said in a low voice. “I can’t lose another member of my family, not again.” Mammon merely stared at the floor blankly. “Besides…” trailed Lucifer as he approached mammon with a relatively softer tone as he put a hand over his shoulder. “What would Mc think?” This statement snapped him out of his blank phase. “You loved them, didn’t you? They loved you too.” Lucifer stated with a rare smile on his face. “Mc would hate it if you abused yourself like this. We all may not show it, but we do miss Mc. But they’re dead, Mammon. Maybe, if Diavolo manages to retrieve their body we can bring them back to life. But for now, focus on bettering yourself. Not for you, but for Mc. This is what they would have wanted.” He stated as the two shared the moment. Lucifer hasn’t spoken on it ever since, but he has gone softer on Mammon. He also makes sure not to leave any sharp objects around him.

It was then Mammon snapped out of his memories as he heard the door slam open. However, it was a familiar voice that made him snap out of his state fully. Mammon’s lip quivered as he immediately ran out the room and into the hall as he saw you. In all your glory, surrounded by the brothers as each of them shed tears around you. Even Lucifer was smiling fondly as he hugged you. It was then your eyes found Mammon’s and the next thing you knew, you had a happy demon crashing into you while everyone else laughed. “Easy on me Mammon, I just came back from the dead!” You giggled as his grip on you tightened. “He really did miss you, you know?” “Hmm?” “Yes Mc. This is honestly the first time I’ve seen him genuinely happy ever since you left.” “Oh” you stated as you let him hold you as you caressed his head. “Well, I’m here now aren’t I?” You stated as Diavolo called for a celebration. Mammon didn’t dare let go of you for even a minute. It was adorable alright, to see his once, tear streaked face now blushing and smiling. Once the celebrations were over, Mammon immediately scooped you up to his room and gently set you on the bed as he buried his face in your chest. “Missed me that much?” He nodded as you softly pressed kisses onto his head. “I’m not leaving, ever. Okay?” “Ya better not.” “I won’t. I promise.” You stated softly as he smiled. You both then fell asleep with him holding onto you As if you might disappear any moment.

As you were asleep he then kissed you all over, as he whispered the three words he wanted to say when he would see you again.

“I love you”

[archwing]

tw for 'friends' being shitty people

general life ramblings under the cut

recently, i ended up parting ways with someone i considered to be my best friend, my brother. i feel as though it was a long time coming. we'd been on uneven footing for the last year, and i'd already been distancing myself from him emotionally, but it still sucks to lose someone you once cared so deeply for and for so long. i remember all of our good times and i remember all the fun we had and the plans that never came to fruition and its easy to start kicking myself for letting go of him.

but then i remember.

i remember that night when we had the fight that ended our friendship. the venomous things he said, the depths he went to just to try to hurt me. the adrenaline, the anger, the frustration, the fear. i remember how for the past half a decade i've had hooks in my brain holding me down to an unattainable standard, how i've felt for so long like i'm lesser than everyone else, and how holding on so tight made me forget that i can stand on my own.

i finally feel independent. i don't feel like i have to walk on eggshells to avoid arguing. i no longer have to feel like a side character in my own life. i can focus on myself and my future, as well as my family, my fianceé, and my hobbies. i feel like a weight has been lifted.

i don't hold any of it against him. it's part of his journey. i don't have faith he'll learn anything from our falling out, at least not immediately, but that's not to say i hate him, nor is it my problem. he said things to me that were fucked up and irredeemable, but that doesn't mean that i don't still wish him the best. thing is, i highly doubt that view on things is mutual. probably the day after our fight, i had a mutual friend of ours ask me what happened between him and i because he had asked our friend to block me because of our fight. my friend realized the issue with that and our friendship hasnt changed because of it, but it proves to me the difference in mindset.

he wanted to sabotage my friendships. he wanted me to blindly side with him, on every single thing. he wanted all of my free time. he told secrets that i had told him in confidence to handfuls of people and humiliated me. he escalated every single thing to the point that i felt smothered out of learning to grow a backbone.

i feel taken advantage of and used. friends don't make each other feel like that, and when you call them on that they certainly don't respond with "it's not my fault you have social issues”. verbatim, after telling him that i had to talk about him in therapy. he even brought up him interrupting my s//icide attempt when he was trying to throw in my face all the things he'd done for me.

that disgusts me. it does. people who are supposed to care about you, and have told you they care about you for the past fifteen or sixteen years, don't talk to you like that. so, after internal deliberation and fighting against the guilt, i've decided that i won't talk to him again. even if he comes back to me, tail between his legs, trying to make amends, not this time.

i don't deserve to go through that again.

[chimine-reads]

No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai (read in June '23)

Quote:

"I was frightened even by God. I could not believe in His love, only in His punishment. Faith. That, I felt, was the act of facing the tribunal of justice with one's head bowed to receive the scourge of God. I could believe in hell, but it was impossible for me to believe in the existence of heaven."

Genre:

Literary Fiction (semi-autobiographical)

Pages:

177

Content (spoilers+heavyCW+heavy TW):

This book contains 3 notebooks. The main character is called Yozo.

- 1st Notebook:

Yozo is incapable of understanding others, starting in his early years. To develop relationships, the main character loses himself in clowning. He also got sexually ab*sed by servants but in his opinion, reporting it was useless.

- 2nd Notebook:

The clowning goes on in his early school years. Taken by surprise, his classmate Takeichi exposes Yozo's fake facade. To prevent Takeichi from revealing the secret, he becomes friends with him. Yozo starts doing art. A self portrait of Yozo was the reason why Takeichi predicts Yozo is going to be a great artist in the future.

After school, Yozo enrolls in a university in Tokyo. There, he becomes friend with another artist called Horiki. During that time, he loses himself in drinking, smoking and harlotry and attends communist meetings without being one.

At one point, he spends the night with a married woman, and they commit double suicide (shinjuu) by drowning. He survives and is left with a great grief.

-3rd Notebook:

Yozo's life goes downhill when he is expelled from university. A friend of the family gives him shelter. During that time, he tries to develop a relationship with a single mother and her daughter, but soon, he returns to his drinking habits and abandons these two eventually, due to his fear of humanity. After that, he gets to know Yoshiko, a young inexperienced woman who wants him to stop drinking.

Yoshiko is a positive influence on his life, hence he stops drinking and starts his career as a cartoonist. When Horiki becomes a part of his life again, Yozo relapses in his self destructive habits again. While he discusses antonyms with Horiki, Yoshiko gets sexually ass*ulted by an acquaintance. This leads to Yozo's second s*icide attempt (sleeping drugs). After his release from the hospital, Yozo gets addicted to morphine and the book ends with him ending up in a mental hospital, feeling neutral - neither happy nor sad.

Opinion+rating:

9.5/10

I really enjoyed reading No Longer Human, it's really well written, and one can sympathise with Yozo even though one does not relate to him.

But be aware of the book containing really sensitive topics!

Until next time! <3