#well tw suicide threat i suppose

[ceruleankitkats]

Theyre mean to each other

[nemuro-incinerator]

I had a longer analysis post idea but I desperately need to sleep and I may not remember my ideas correctly when I wake up, so I’m posting a kind of TLDR of what I mulled over while my phone was dead and I was getting ready for bed. TW: Utena-typical trigger warnings, discussion of suicide/suicidal tendencies

The finale of Shoujo Kakumei Utena as compared to the finale of Adolescence of Utena, as well as their general portrayal of Akio Ohtori and Dios Himemiya, is a showcase of the difference in how Utena and Anthy perceive him and the obstacles that they have to overcome to break free from Ohtori Academy.

In episodes 38 and 39 of SKU, Akio shows no real threat. Sure, he duels Utena and can at least handle a sword, but Utena would’ve won the duel by technique had it not been for Anthy’s interference. After that, Utena manages to shove him off of her while having a literal (or metaphorical) stab wound. Dios is even less of an issue, taunting Utena and riding around his carousel but ultimately being entirely powerless to stop her. The only one with the power to even hurt Utena in the finale is Anthy. Because that’s what it’s always been about for Utena. Dios was never supposed to be the important one - only her memory being locked away and warped as a method of dealing with her trauma kept him as relevant as he was - and Akio, though he wormed his way into a place of importance, could never hold a candle to Anthy. Anthy is the reason why Utena decided to keep living, Anthy is the reason why Utena is at Ohtori, and Anthy is why Utena marches on and shoves Akio away to offer her hand to the girl who, in a way, saved her life.

In Adolescence of Utena, on the other hand, Akio is a pathetic dandy who does his car trick on a taxi and commits suicide by falling over a railing. He’s a husk of what he used to be, someone who needs to be held up by Anthy to stand a chance in hell. But Anthy holds him up the same way she holds the entire academy up, and the reason makes itself clear during the finale. The massive figure of Dios, the dead prince in Anthy’s mind, stands at the exit and begins to crush Utena and Anthy with the intent of making them living dead just like him. Utena knew Dios for all of a few minutes, but Anthy knew him from the beginning of her life to his “death” and “transformation” into Akio. He is the fear of moving forward, the past manifest in one final attempt to crush Anthy into stasis like a pressed flower on paper. It fails, of course, but not before it is “killed” - though I believe the more accurate term would be laid to rest. He is dead. He was dead long ago. He never really existed. But now the version of Anthy’s brother with short hair and bright green eyes and boyish youthfulness is given his last rites as Anthy leaves the dead where they lie.

[everythingwasalreadypicked]

Tw: mentions of past death and murder, suicidal ideation

Alabaster sighed, trying to ignore the gurgling of his stomach as he patrolled through Manhattan's desolate streets. It was empty, had been empty for one and a half years. The wreckage left from a long won war loomed over him like a phantom, the ghost city judging him with every step he took.

Abandoned buildings towered over the entire city, lifeless save for the occasional Monster Donut shop still crackling with vibrant lighting. The sweet smell was tempting, but no doubt an employee would report to Lord Kronos that he took a food break during his patrol.

Alabaster took a shaky breath, wedging his cane out of the crack on the asphalt it got stuck in.

His mother had finally gotten a throne. Nothing else mattered.

Maybe if he said it enough he'd start believing it.

The silence was deafening, with no signs of New York's infamous uproar.

He wondered whether Morpheus was pleased that he'd put down 'the city that never slept'.

Well. Almost put down.

Annabeth Chase, of all people, stood in front of him. Her hair done up under a scarf, her face scratched and scraped. Interestingly enough, she wore a Camp Half-Blood shirt. It seemed to barely hold itself together, with different coloured stitches and patches made of vastly different materials plastered on the fading fabric, but sentimentality and all, Alabaster supposed. Didn't matter it was small for her frame, not when it might as well be the only camp shirt left.

It looked more comfortable than the satin chaffing against his skin anyway.

"Torrington." She acknowledged, spinning her knife in her hand, eyes glaring daggers.

He really really didn't want a fight. Not only was he tired and hungry, but this was Annabeth. They knew eachother, once.

A traitorous part of him whispered; you knew Sherman too, didn’t stop you from driving your sword right into his heart, did it?

An acrid feeling stabbed the back of his throat.

"Are you mapping out where to stab me or just plain checking me out, Chase?" Alabaster forced out a cocky smile.

Her eyes flashed, "Why are you here? You're not welcome, General."

"Routine patrol." He shrugged. "I should ask you that question, technically."

"Not your business." Annabeth circled him, holding her dagger between them the whole time. Alabaster didn't attempt to move an inch, to draw his sword from where it hung on his back. "But someone needs to keep watch on Olympus."

Alabaster glanced to the side. Empire State Building stretched towards the skies, deader than Zeus’s chopped up pieces resting beneath the deepest part of Tartarus.

"You're wasting your time," he murmured, "you lost. Your gods abandoned you. They aren't coming back."

Annabeth growled behind him. She could very well strike and stab him in the back with their current positions, but Alabaster found he didn't really mind the possibility.

"Maybe try out the remains of Camp Half-Blood instead? I heard the weather is real nice there at this time of the year," he mused, shifting his weight onto his cane more, "I'm sure Grover will be fine. Never took you or Jackson as the gardening type, though."

It was quite hard to miss the giant tree growing out of an apartment fire escape. Even if it hadn't been an open secret that Perseus Jackson and Annabeth Chase took refugee in the former's home.

The truth was neither of them were worthy of being considered a threat by his lord anymore.

Or so Lord Kronos said and who was Alabaster to argue. Less work for him.

A whooshing sound... and a cold metal pressed against his throat while a body pressed against his own.

Annabeth hissed into his ear, "If you think you're scaring me—"

"I just hear what people say about me, that's all." It would be so easy to lean forward, to finally be able to sleep for more than four hours for once. To rest as his blood spilled all over the asphalt. The brand on his back flared up as if his Lord heard and disagreed with Alabaster from the throne he sat upon kilometres away. "Monster of Mount. Tam, was it?"

"You're no monster," Annabeth sneered, backing off and clearing her dagger with her shirt as if it touched something dirty, "You're a dog if anything. Wandered far away from your owner, did we? Lost your leash, Torrington?"

Alabaster flitted his gaze to the ground, shame curling inside his chest. Always trust Annabeth Chase to find the words that hurt the most. Hadn't changed a bit from when they were eight. "Go home, Chase. I do not want to fight you."

"You would lose," Annabeth slotted her dagger inside the hilt strapped to her belt. She declared, "I don't know you."

Fast, devoid of any attachment. Just like ripping off a bandaid.

"No," He agreed, a grim smile on his face as he pushed past her, "and for Titans's sake, don't get out of the house when my Lord knows I'm here."

"Coward," A scoff made him stop on his track yet again, "I hope you die in a ditch."

Alabaster stared at the hand he was clutching his cane's handle with. It was harder to see under the black nail polish, but the dried blood was there, sitting atop his nail beds and laughing at him. Just like the green magic staining around his veins in splotches, just like the feeling of never being able to wash away the blood on his hands. Just like the screams and pleas for mercy plaguing his nightmares.

"You and me both, Chase. You and me both."

[xinrouska]

Villain Leo Animatic - Breakdown

⚠️TW: Violence, Blood, Guns, Themes of suicide, Attempted murder

The animatic takes place over a few years, starting from when Leo reveals himself to his brothers again after a 3 year absence (23 years old). It focuses on the tension between Leo and Donnie as time goes on, Leo’s resolve crumbling while Donnie slowly loses himself as well. In other words, who’s really the villain? This is going to be very long, let’s get 🔪started🔪

The Coin

Sue me if it wasn’t obvious, I will not figure out how to animate a coin flipping. But the circle motif shows throughout the video because they’re twins, two sides of the same coin. What happens to one, will happen to the other.

The Pupils

The pupils were a signifier of their current moral standing. White for “villain” and black for “hero”. It could also be seen as insanity vs. sanity. You’ll notice that by the end of it, Leo and Donnie have switched but I also want to point out where and why:

Donnie

After Leo left, Donnie spent all his energy going into finding him. He’s worried, he cares, he wants his brother back regardless if Leo has committed murder. He couldn’t find him, and it’s here that Leo reveals he’s been working with Kendra for all tech related support.

Donnie and Kendra’s relationship at this point is more of a rivalry. They have a respect for each other and as much as Donnie hates to admit it, he looks forward to seeing the inventive ways Kendra can get in his way. She’s been a constant in his life since a teenager. However, she’s been a constant “enemy”.

Donnie sees this as the biggest betrayal against him. His own brother willingly teaming up with his rival like that. Leo’s supposed to be on his side, and this is so uncharacteristic to Donnie that it’s at this moment he realizes he doesn’t Know Leo anymore. This is where he loses hope on bringing Leo back because the Leo he knew doesn’t exist.

Leo

The animatic takes place over a few years, roughly three. We haven’t publicly explored what’s going in these years but a quick summary of it is that Leo has been spiraling further and further since the start. Since the Kraang invasion actually. His goal has always been to protect his brothers, it’s simply that his method of it became extreme, he became obsessed with it.

At this point, it’s near the end. He’s tired, he’s been questioning his motives, he doesn’t know if it’s all worth it, in comparison to his desire to just be with his family again. He fights with Donnie and he’ll never use lethal force against him, but that’s not the case with Donnie. Donnie is doing everything in his power to kill Leo and when Leo realizes this, his first thought is “what has my brother turned into?”. It’s sobering, reality crushing, when he realizes his own twin desperately wants him dead. He gives up.

First Chorus

I wanted a moment that showcases a bit of Leo’s skills and personality. He’s clever, strategic, manipulative, and his strongest weapons are his words. He knows this. He’s a good actor and he’s a performer, all to show that that’s the villain aspect of him that he’s struggling with. It taunts him. Still, he believes the best way to protect his family is to eliminate all threats possible.

Donnie’s progression are the stages of grief he’s going through realizing his brother is “dead”. He watches recordings of their past to figure out where things went wrong, but also to grieve.

Time is a bit vague here and there’s quite a bit that isn’t shown here actually. Leo has cut ties with Kendra (that’s a whole separate thing and the result is that Donnie hates Leo even more). Donnie watches Leo through the cameras throughout the city. Leo knows he’s being watched, it’s bittersweet, he’s already having doubts during this time. Donnie, during this time, has decided to transform the Genius Built company and turn it into tech powerhouse. It used to be a side project, but now he’s utilizing it to take over power on topside in terms of technology and economy. This is a parallel to how by this time, Leo has near full power and control in the undercity crime rings.

The Bridge

Leo questions everything he’s doing as the past taunts him of how things used to be, of how things Should be. Also dives into his reason for all of it. The Kraang hurt the people he loves the most, as if they were worthless.

On Donnie’s side, he’s more and more determined to take Leo down with his own hands. That is his sole goal. Everything he is doing and creating is for that purpose. But his inner child, a part of him that wishes for things to just be ok again, is desperate for him to stop, to question things and think. Also he’s CEO of GB at this point. Pretty straightforward with the Leo is the person he hates the most but was once his beloved brother.

The Fight

Donnie using lethal force to do everything in his power to kill Leo. Leo is more skilled than Donnie is, he has more experience killing but he absolutely will not kill his brothers, that goes against everything he’s working for. Because of that, Leo is destined to lose this fight. He also loses his will to fight after seeing how much Donnie needs to kill him. While Raph was the first trigger of starting all of this, Donnie is the second trigger of making him give up.

Donnie won because Leo still loved him dearly.

“I’m glad it was you.”

Of all the people to kill him, he’s genuinely glad it’s Donnie who’ll do it.

On the other hand, Donnie recognizes the resignation in Leo’s eyes, but after the last few years, he can’t help but wonder if it’s another trick. He feels Leo’s ninpo, and he hasn’t felt it in a very long time. It’s nostalgic, it’s comforting, but he’s already come too far. “I must kill Leo” has cemented into his mind as a fact.

Parallels

I included these parallels because I wanna highlight that they’re “two sides of the same coin”. They’re twins and their fate are closely tied together. Leo will kill anyone to protect his family. Donnie will kill Leo to protect everyone, including his family.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading! The story doesn’t end, Leo doesn’t die here, I should clarify that LOL. There’s a lot more of the story to cover but I’m glad I was finally able to show this aspect of the au. If you have any questions, feel free to message me (xinrouska) or starrcrossrose on twitter, instagram, or tumblr!

[ikolaiigh]

Tainted Graveyard

•𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑹𝒀...As a geek in high school, you were in the pit of the school's hierarchy - That stays like that until you gain the Decay of Angels- the most popular trio in Yokohama's High, attention. Everything was supposed to be simple until an unstable boy stumbles into your life, What was supposed to be a joyous Senior year, turned out to be the most daunting, death-ridden year, and him being the reason for it.

•𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑹𝑬...angst, hurt/comfort, Dark content, Heathers AU, a little bit of fluff if you squint

•𝑻𝑾/𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺...Gaslighting, trauma, murder, gore,Dazai is extremely unhinged and fucked up, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, violence,smut, Mentions of abuse, sexual assault, Suicide, forged Suicide, Gun violence, bullying, Mental Breakdown, bomb threats, blood and injury, abuse, physical abuse, violent thoughts, death threats, suicidal thoughts, Survivor Guilt, Mental Health Issues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Unhealthy Relationships, Alcohol, Drugs & Smoking, Every chapter when release will have its own warning.

•𝑷𝑳𝑨𝒀𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻...

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍

𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 (𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐭)

•𝘈/𝘕..Hey guys! First series and fic ever that I am posting, Probably due to school it will be difficult to finish it but oh well. This is a Bsd Heathers AU, Each chapter will have its proper trigger warnings (since Heathers + bsd is a whole tw bomb) and for the sake of the fun, Reader even though is going to be Veronica in this, they're gonna have some questionable morals, also you'll probably gonna see drawings abt this AU.

•𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺...

𝘚𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 1𝘴𝘵 1989, 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘺- (Coming Soon)

𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘊𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘺 𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘦-

𝘚𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦?-

̶...𝘛𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻...

@yuugen-benni

𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱 © 2023 𝗩𝘀𝗸𝗸𝗼𝗹𝘆𝗮𝗮. 𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝗱𝗶𝗳𝘆 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺.

[occasionalsnippets]

Mandela Catalogue AU when? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[Presumed setting in mandela county. Have I caught up with Mandela Catalogue? No but I can always make things up. MC was in scp universe and then brought to mandela catalogue here ig? tw for suicide mentions/attempts. Pt 2]

It’s not nearly as scary, as terrifying, to be in Mandela when you are the one at the top of the metaphorical food chain.

(Somehow, with passing time, you become less and less human... You don't know what you're meant to do about it.)

Finding yourself was easy. It was as if you were always meant to be able to find the you of this universe. Or maybe they weren't actually like you and was just someone who looked like you. Or was it that you were the one who looked like them? You were the Alternate here after all.

It was a little interesting, just watching them for a while. Stalking was a hobby a lot of Alternates had so you supposed you were following the norm in that respect. You watched the other you from afar and other Alternates as well.

(They don't notice you but you're fairly certain they know something is there. Both Alternates and the other you. You're a little curious if Alternates can feel paranoia even if they were usually the ones instilling it. Maybe some can. Alternates tended to come in all shapes and sizes.)

Everything reaches its peak eventually. Other you locks themselves in their room and calls for help. You know no one will come but it serves to differentiate you from them. Fascinating to watch the ways in which they were completely different from you. You think it's a perfect time to reveal yourself.

As expected, it goes terribly.

They're frightened, you're almost certainly a threat and nobody is coming to help. Anything that could go wrong definitely will. You aren't even actually trying to torment them.

"You can't stay in there forever you know?" you hum.

They don't answer. They're still alive in there but they've taken to locking the door and ignoring you. Such an interesting reaction. They're likely younger than you. Out of courtesy, you don't pick the lock and let yourself in anyways.

"Are you really that terrified?" you ask. "I haven't even revealed anything mind breaking that could drive you mad."

You stayed there for hours before getting bored and leaving. They aren't going anywhere and you could always return. You raid the fridge in your boredom. The food in the fridge looked the same as what you would usually get. You eat.

In the time between speaking with other you, you continue to wander the county and watch as people fall apart. You pass by people who know you and you wonder if they realize you're not who you appeared to be.

"If you don't come out, I'll really end up replacing you."

Again you were sitting against a wall near the other you's room. In the time that had passed, not once have they responded. You could still hear their breaths on the other side of the door. There's shifting and a click.

Ominous. You get up and move to the door. Surprisingly when you twist the knob, it turns and clicks. No longer burdened by needing to remain polite, you push the door open.

In a flash, you lunge forward, grabbing the gun and tearing it from other you's grasp. Smoothly, you toss it behind you and it clatters to the floor. You'd admit to being a little curious to know what you looked like to the other you as you loom over them.

Other you's hands were shaking, faint tear tracks running down their cheeks. Their hair is rumpled and their eyes bloodshot. Now that you were looking at them up close, you could tell they were definitely younger than you.

"Hello." Your lips turn upward into something resembling a smile. "It's lovely to finally meet you."

It was silent following your words. Their breath shudders. You watch, a little amused as they tried to steady themselves. As they recover, they mutter, "You aren't a regular Alternate, are you?"

"That's right," you agreed. "Though unlocking the door and trying to kill yourself isn't a very good way to test a hypothesis."

They flinch.

You laugh and pat their head.

"Let's get along, hm?"

[tornadoyoungiron]

Traintober | Day 5 - It’s Only Me

Blue Peter breaks down when he realises that he’s the only one of the A2 Peppercorns left and that his best friend and cousin Saint Mungo, never made it to preservation.

TW for suggestions of self-harm, suicide and depression

~~~

The sound of metal grinding against metal rattled in his smokebox as the daylight from outside pierced through the dark musty interior of the shed making him wince in pain and squint against the blinding light. He could hear the voices of men talking as his eyes adjusted to the light.

“Is this the one?��� A man’s voice asked nearby and Blue Peter looked down to find a man staring up at him.

“Yes sir, a LNER A2 Peppercorn, the last one,” another man came up behind him with a British Railway pin on his lapel. “He’ll make a fine companion to Bittern.”

The man snorted and shook his head. 

“I would have preferred an A1 Peppercorn but they’ve all been cut up,” the man dismissively waved at Blue Peter.

A chill ran through Blue Peter’s boiler. His cousins… the A1s, no they couldn’t have. 

“My cousins are gone?” Blue Peter suddenly croaked out weakly. “But I thought… Saint Mungo.”

The men looked towards him and a look of sympathy passed on their faces. 

“There was an incident regarding Saint Mungo,” the British Railways man frowned. “He was cut up despite being slated for preservation.”

“A true shame, I would have very much liked to own such a magnificent engine!” The other man declared but then looked at Blue Peter with a critical gaze. “I suppose an A2 will have to do.”

Blue Peter said nothing, still reeling from the news that Saint Mungo was gone. 

Blue Peter didn't know quite how long he had been kept in storage. He wasn't even sure if they remembered him. After all, his last crew had simply parked him in storage and left without even cleaning out his firebox or doing proper procedures to maintain him. 

The thought of maybe seeing Saint Mungo once, even if it was a final goodbye as he was sent for scrap had kept him hopeful, been the one thing that had helped him hang on to hope. 

He was startled from his thoughts as the BR mam snapped his fingers at him to get his attention.

"Pay attention!" The man barked but Blue Peter barely heard him. "Mr. Drury has agreed to purchase you, you should show him thanks and not be rude! Do you want to be sent for scrap, engine?"

"I-" Blue Peter quickly returned his attention to the threat and quickly masked his despair. "Yes sir! I apologise for my rudeness, sir. If you purchase me I shall serve you well!"

The man, Mr Drury, nodded at him. 

"Still seems to have its wits about it, no sign of Cold Iron," he examined before eyeing the nameplate on his smoke deflector. "Blue Peter eh?"

"Yes sir, I am Blue Peter, at your service!" The Peppercorn chirped. 

Mr Drury looked thoughtful for a moment before a wide grin appeared across his face.

"Yes, yes actually that would be perfect!" The man was delighted now. "I have the best idea for how to restore this one!"

"You're going to use the Blue Peter show?" The BR man pointed out and Drury nodded excitedly. 

"It's the perfect way to teach younger generations about an obsolete technology!"

Blue Peter almost guffawed at that. 

Obsolete?  Obsolete! 

He was most certainly not obsolete, no matter how much these humans clung to their disgusting, smelly diesel. Steam engines were one of a kind! They were charming and full of personality!

He kept quiet though and did not voice his displeasure.  He kept his face straight, his tender aligned and his attitude proper. He would rather not be left to rust in this storage shed any longer.

"How about that? You could be a part of the children's television show, Blue Peter, isn't that exciting?" Mr. Drury enthusiastically implored.

It sounded appalling and Blue Peter wanted no part in it. If anyone would have loved it, it would have been Saint Mungo. 

But Blue Peter didn’t want to be scrapped and so he put on his best and most amicable face.

“Yes sir, that sounds incredibly exciting sir, I cannot wait to do my part!” 

Mr. Drury clapped his hands together. 

“Excellent! What a fortunate turn of events, instead of getting A1 I’ve been blessed with an engine that could pay for its own restoration with its name alone,” he exclaimed.

“So you’ll take him?” The BR asked excitedly and Mr Drury nodded enthusiastically.

“I most certainly will my good man!”

“Right! This way sir! I’ll have you fill out the paperwork and then we can organise to get him out of our storage sheds!”

“Excellent, excellent!” Mr. Drury turned back to Blue Peter as he and the man began to leave.

“I trust that you’ll be a good addition, Blue Peter, so rejoice in the fact that you won’t be scrapped!” He told him and Blue Peter managed to muster a pained smile.

“Yes sir, thank you sir!” He gratefully retorted.

Without another word, the two men left and shut him in darkness once again. 

The painful smile Blue Peter had kept up vanished the second that the shed doors closed and he felt tears flow down his face, unable to stop them.

All his siblings, his cousins, they were all gone. They had all left him.

For however many years he had spent wasting away in this shed had only ever been tolerable due to the fact that he may once again see Saint Mungo. Only now, he was to find that something had happened, that Saint Mungo had found himself at the cutter’s torch. 

Blue Peter felt empty, his boiler felt like there was rust creeping into his tubes, his frames felt heavy with grief and aching that he couldn’t quite describe. 

Maybe it would have been more of a relief to be finally hauled out to the scrapyard knowing that his entire family was gone. 

That it was only him left in this cruel dark world.

~~~

[writingattemptsxx]

These words hurt.

Rumors swarm around NRC, but a lot of times they focus on a specific Moray eel. A Moray eel who wants it to stop. Floyd wants it to stop.

—

This spawned from a headcanon I have and I had to just write it so I didn't lose it or the motivation to write.

I had to just get this out so I didn't have a beta reader, so forgive any typos and stuff.

—

Songfic of Circus Hop by YonKaGor on Youtube. https://youtu.be/bjKLjGbL-W0?si=A1BLfTcFGZxdyZLT

—

Tw: Mentions/Allusion to Suicide, Self Harm, Depression Spiral, Bullying, Self Destructive Behavior

If you are struggling with any of this, please get help. This is not something you need to go through alone.

—

It's a comical yet devastating universe

But it's still the kind of universe that I deserve

The lipstick on my face has bled into my skin

It should show a grin

A smile. That’s what he’s known for. That smile turned from a stupid little form of appreciation for what he loved to an excuse to label him a monster.

Who was he kidding, he might as well be. Floyd was huge. He had sharp fangs and claws. He had the strength to overpower most normal people. He was manipulative. He was terrifying. He was a monster just like all the rumors said. Just give them their smile and have them running off spreading more.

Up from the sky, I won't want you to cry

So here's an act for everyone to sneer at

“Goldfishie!!!” Riddle was doing nothing but running from Floyd by now. The little redhead was interesting, that’s not possible to deny. The only issue is Floyd knew better. He is the type to generally pester people he wants to get to know, but just simple pestering won’t do anything. Riddle was powerful. He couldn’t be afraid of power and needed to show that.

His job was protection. Azul’s protection to be specific. Not too many genuinely knew that. What people did know, or think they knew, was Floyd finding Azul interesting. It was true, yes, but another thing they skipped is why he was interesting.

He was one of the first genuine forms of kindness Floyd knew beyond his parents and brother. Azul was skeptical at first, sure, but he had reason to be. No one paid attention to the “ugly” little octopus. They paid less attention when he was violently bullied. The twins gave him just some time of their day and fought off those idiots who were intent on making Azul’s day a living hell.

No one saw how his eyes lit up when someone gave him basic decency. No one saw how he gave that ounce of kindness back more than a thousand times over. No one saw his mind constantly whirling and creating hundreds and thousands of ideas that Floyd couldn't help but finally feel some ounce of hope for his future. A future where Azul would no longer be a “pushover crybaby”, and he put it and Floyd would no longer be a feared monster.

To get that, Floyd had to do whatever he could. Even this act. This act that he didn't fear for his life around power. This act that he wanted to hurt others. This act that these words didn't hurt. The act that he isn't just some scared and cowardly Moray wanting a hug.

So, sing along, it's such a silly song

The cackling carousel, it spins and never stops

The acrobat who's waiting at the top

Should do a Circus Hop

People are getting bold nowadays. Coming into Monstro Lounge and actively spreading rumors like their own waiter couldn't hear them.

“I hear he maimed someone.”

“Yah? Well, I heard he gets covered in blood almost every day.”

“Two starter salads, right here.” Honestly. Are they idiots? Spreading rumors like this in their supposed threat’s domain? Just dropping the salads off and then coming back a few minutes later only reveals them back at it. It's not like this is new. Just a few more rumors to add to the many that are constantly circling. Why was he even here anymore?

I shall now accept the fact that I'm a failure (You're a failure)

'Cause I'm still afraid the future might be scarier (It is scarier)

I'll slip while having fun and cut off my own tongue

They'll think I was dumb

Every once and a while, Floyd's mind starts to wander. Who is he kidding? That's his basic state. Azul’s promised future seemed to be turning out now, but what if something happens? What if this happens? What if that happens? Professor Trien’s getting up now? Oh yeah. There was a test wasn't there? The test’s topic was actually kind of interesting. Interesting enough for Floyd to actually spend some time reading the textbook. It was a test of the change in mer and human cultures once they started connecting.

All of this was nice until the test sheet hit down on his desk and reality gave him a nice slap to the face. Who was he kidding? He wasn't the smart one. That was, and will always be, Jade. Floyd knew none of these questions. Absolutely nothing on this sheet felt like something he'd seen before.

“And start.”

Start!? Start how? Start where? Ugh. What's the point? Why not just do his typical? Randomly bubbling different answers. At least now people will think he was just uninterested. If he actually tried and failed, people would know he was stupid, not aloof. That, if anything, was probably the scariest thing. He's gotten used to how things are now. They don't have to change.

Up from the sky, I won't want you to cry

So here's an act for everyone to sneer at

That was terrifying. An overblot. Not just any overblot. Azul’s overblot. Floyd’s best friend. The one who gave him kindness. The one who gave him hope. That Azul.

Azul was now on bed rest. Jade and Floyd were trying to take care of him despite his stubborn efforts to return to normal before his body was ready. At this point, Floyd wanted to tuck in the sheets so much that Azul couldn't get up, but luckily he couldn't do that to his dearest friend. He especially couldn't do it now that he was finally asleep.

“Floyd…” All he had to do was turn around and he could see Jade’s eyebags. It has been Jade’s job to go around and get and prepare things while Floyd was by Azul’s side taking direct care of him. Time to switch, he guesses.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Got it.”

“Also… Go to Monstro Lounge and get that tea Azul likes. I want it to be here for when he's awake.”

“On it.” With that, he was out of the room, and on his way to the lounge. It only took halfway to start hearing rumors. People just couldn't shut up, could they? What worse? It was about Azul. Did nobody have decency?

“I heard his breakdown was because his contracts were shattered.”

“I heard I started he started forcefully taking powers with a single touch!”

“All that from broken contracts? What a crybaby.”

“Oooo. Careful his guard dogs might hear you. Ooooo.”

Then they laughed. They laughed. WHO do they think they are? Because Floyd knows who they are horrible people. Luckily he knew what to do to at least shut them up.

“Hey… now what was that?” He turned the corner. The idiots froze. Stock-still. “What you can't talk now? Say what. Leave now. Don't let me see you again, and I'll be merciful.” That's all it took. They bolted. People suck.

Floyd just backed up to a wall and then slid down. This was dumb. His words were dumb. The bullies were dumb. Overblots were dumb. These tears were dumb. This constant stress is dumb. Everything was just dumb. Can't he just pause time when he and his loved ones are happy? Never mind just let those bullies run off. Let them spread increasingly horrible rumors about what he just did. None of this feels real anyway.

So, sing along, it's such a silly song

The cackling carousel, it spins and never stops

The acrobat who's waiting at the top

Should do a Circus Hop

“Hey hey! Sup?” At his voice, his classmates flinched. What? Was a simple hi dangerous now?

“Hiiii Floydddd.” They dragged out the sounds. It sounded grating. They weren't happy to see him, were they? Floyd may be dumb but he's not incapable of picking up things. Especially not if they are constantly repeated. It doesn't matter. Just keep up that dumb smile.

“Sooooo… Whatcha doing?”

“Oh! Uh… Nothing! Just packing up to return to my dorm. You know how it is… Bye!” And with that, they were off. Couldn't stand another second in his presence, could ya? What's the point of trying to make another friend again?

Trying to walk somewhere was easy enough. People shuffled out of Floyd’s way the second he was noticed. Though it felt like the worst thing possible. The stares. The stares made it horrible. Every word was laced in their glares. Violent. Scary. Malicious. Brute. Every name in the book.

Floyd shoved his books into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. What's the point anymore? What's the point of doing anything?

I've said goodbye, I don't want you to cry

So have a laugh with everyone but me.

Watching Azul and Jade work sometimes felt like something else. Two great minds competing yet working together at the same time. They were both at Azul’s desk working on the ledger or something while Floyd lies down on the sofa across from them.

Things don't even feel real anymore. Like he was watching a show. He slowly reached a shakey hand to his brother and friend. Then he realized what he was doing and snapped it back to his body before either could notice. They were doing something. He would be a bother. He just turns to lie with his back facing them.

So, sing along, it's such a silly song

The cackling carousel, it spins and never stops

The acrobat who fell down from the top

They did a little drop

So, sing along, it's such a silly song

He just sitting in his bed on the verge of tears. Both hands were on his head and had a death grip on his hair. It's dumb. It's ridiculous. It's lazy. It's... It's... Ugh! Floyd’s mind is circling. Every word said about him while they didn't know he was listening was clouding his head. It was a storm cloud that won't go away.

Just stop it! Just stop it! He let one of his hands off his head only to hammer it back down, the palm striking his temple. Over and over. He wanted the thoughts gone. Why wouldn't they go? Tears finally started falling. He can't stop anything anymore. Not his thoughts. Not his tears. Not the rumors. Not anything.

His hand slowed to a stop and went back to its original space. Both hands finally lost their grip as Floyd lost his grip on his emotion. He continues to just sit there as he sobs.

The cackling carousel, it spins and never stops

The acrobat who's waiting at the top

Should do a circus hop

The knocks were getting annoying. Floyd had been hauled up in his room for a few days now, and Jade and Azul definitely noticed. It only took the second day for them to start their incessant knocking.

Through the door, they begged and pleaded for him to talk to them. Each time he just told them to buzz off. Can't they just let him be? The only thing Floyd can thank them for is them bringing him meals. They just knock, tell him there's food, and leave. The only thing was once he brought it in, he couldn't bring himself to eat it. The tray of food just sits there until his body’s instincts take over and he shoves every ounce of food in his mouth.

A knock brought Floyd out of his head. “Floyd… brother… please… I just want to make sure you are ok.” Jade sounded desperate. Why? He can't understand. Doesn't he at least have something to do for the lounge?

Without his say, his arm went up. Reaching to the door. His brother sounded sad. Really sad. He was about to get up when he snapped out of it. He pulled his hand back.

…

“Go away.”

For anyone worried this is in no way a call for help, I promise I'm fine.

However, to those struggling with any of this right now, please reach out to someone who's capable of helping. You don't need to go through this alone.

[lgbtiba]

SO. Buckle up, kiddo!

I will not explain every single detail that led to this screenshot, but I will try for it to be as comprehensible as possible in a short format.

tw suicide, death, abuse

You know Tubbo already. The storyline of Dream SMP started when he was 16, hand in hand with Tommyinnit. When you think about Tubbo and Tommy, think about a connection something like Tazercraft. They are best friends, soulmates, partners, everything. Interconnection in the ways, that held them together despite everything that happened to them in the story.

Tommy’s older brother Wilbur started a country L’Manberg with Tommy, Tubbo joining soon after (as well as a couple of other people). They fought a war of Independence, gaining it after Tommy gave up his most prized possession (his music discs – Cat & Mellohi) to Dream – the leader of the Great SMP faction and the main antagonist in the story. Everything went fine until Wilbur lost presidential elections to Schlatt, who exiled him and Tommy, at the same time making Tubbo his Secretary of State. I will not go into this arc, because a lot happened that is not really necessary right now. Wilbur and Tommy created a Rebellion to overthrow Schlatt (who was a dictator), but Wilbur’s mental health deteriorated and he decided he would rather blow up the country and commit assisted suicide. Not before making Tubbo the new President of L’Manberg.

So Tommy and Tubbo left with a hole in the ground instead of their country, that Tubbo is supposed to lead. Tubbo gathered people and they built New L’Manberg on platforms on top of the crater, filling it with water. Everything seemed to be fine, until it wasn’t.

Tommy (& Ranboo) burnt down GeorgeNotFound’s (who was the king of the Greater SMP atm) house. They didn’t mean for it to burn, but it happened. Was Tommy’s fault, but my guy just so his favorite (along with Tubbo) person blow up their home and made someone else kill him, he was coping so hard. And Dream saw the opportunity in this to threaten New L’Manberg and manipulate Tommy and Tubbo,

After a lot of discussions, threats, suggestions, Tubbo was left with a horrible choice: get his country surrounded by an obsidian wall as tall as the sky, destroyed, fighting a war they couldn’t win but have Tommy with him or to exile Tommy. And he, as the President, chose the second option. Dream took Tommy to lead him away from New L’Manberg and Greater SMP.

Exile… wasn’t a good time for Tommy. It was actively miserable. Dream was abusing and gaslighting him, making him believe that Dream is his only friend and only person that cares about him, Tommy was starving, harming himself, debating committing suicide (Dream SMP has a set of canonical lives, Tommy was on his last) and waking up every day drowning in the ocean that separated him and New L’Manberg. Sure, that nobody wants him, that everyone is happier without him, that Tubbo hates him…

Tubbo also wasn’t having a great time. He got more paranoid, suppressing all his emotions as much as he can, getting into constant working and risky plans to assure safety to New L’Manberg. He was sure Tommy hated him, felt immense guilt for exiling him and just wanted him back,

Wilbur didn’t respawn because it was his last life, but he did come back as a ghost – Ghostbur. Separate entity to Wilbur, that only can remember happy things and doesn’t understand evil. And Ghostbur saw how miserable Tommy and Tubbo because of being apart. So he decided to give them a gift.

He created two compasses, connected to the Loadstones – one under Tommy’s exile tent and one under Tubbo’s Presidential office – and named them Your Tommy & Your Tubbo.

Ghostbur gave ‘Your Tubbo’ to Tommy. “What does Tommy like the most? His favorite thing in the whole wide world is… Tubbo! Listen, I know you really really like Tubbo and I know you really miss him, so I made this! It basically will point you in the direction of Tubbo at all time! So no matter where you are on this bitch of the earth, you will always be able to find each other” <- almost the exact quote from my memory.

Tommy really appreciated it. And, despite being the reckless and emotionally-driven out of the two, he put it in the enderchest next to his music discs to keep it safe. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=EvMuFCWnfUs&pp=ygUcZ2hvc3RidXIgZ2l2ZXMgdG9tbXkgY29tcGFzcw%3D%3D

Ghostbur gave Tubbo ‘Your Tommy’ one, and Tubbo almost cried, because he did miss Tommy so much. And despite usually being more precautious and rational one, he always kept it in his offhand, always with him. Which was a mistake in hindsight because he lost it in a creeper explosion and it was awful. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=8mMmNvzA9lo&pp=ygUYZ2hvc3RidXIgZ2l2ZXMgY29tcGFzc2Vz

Dream lied to Tommy and said Tubbo burned his compass, and Tommy debated throwing his into lava, bit couldn’t. He kept it safe. Throughout a bunch of events that led to another Battle for L’Manberg, where Tommy and Tubbo were reunited after a big fight. Which is better to watch than for me to explain, because it’s an incredibly powerful moment and one of my favorite in the story: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=oGT-gIZ7TXE&pp=ygUldG9tbXkgYW5kIHR1YmJvIGNvbW11bml0eSBob3VzZSBmaWdodA%3D%3D

They fought. They died multiple times. And at some point part of Tommy’s inventory got to Tubbo. Including the ‘Your Tubbo’ compass.

COOL!! Oh my and this isn't even everything! They sound like the blorbos ever ❤

[serickswrites]

Whump One Shots III

Drip--TW: blood, emotional torture, implied captivity, caretaker whump

Hate You So Much--TW: referenced captivity, referenced torture, passive suicidal ideation, hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

In My Head--TW: referenced captivity, referenced torture, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Whumpee falls out of a tree request--TW: intoxication, falling from a great height, broken bones, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Supposed To--TW: implied kidnapping

Saying Goodbye--TW: kidnapping, confinement, restraints, cages, threat of death, knives, blood, hidden injury, unclear character status

Beacon--TW: blood, wounds, blood loss, unconsciousness, referenced captivity, rescue, caretaker and whumpee

Shake and Shiver--TW: captivity, torture, electrocution, forced to watch (well, sort of), restraints, caretaker and whumpee, cruel whumper, sadistic whumper, emotional whump

Dead Alive--TW: presumed dead, implied captivity, implied torture, blood, wounds, caretaker and whumpee

Go to Sleep--TW: captivity, torture, caretaker and whumpee

Znnnng--TW: electrocution, restraints, torture, blood, knives, cuts, cruel whumper

Unbreakable--TW: broken bones, escape

The Cave--TW: head injury, trapped, unconsciousness

No One--TW: captivity, torture, blood, wounds, scars, creepy/intimate whumper, emotional whump

Living Weapon Whumpee request--TW: referenced death, blood, destruction

Point Break--TW: referenced captivity, referenced kidnapping, implied torture, emotional whump

Over--TW: captivity, torture, physical violence, bruising, beating, broken bones

Enough--TW: captivity, knives, stabbing, blood, wounds, unconsciousness, rescue, caretaker and whumpee

Inside--TW: captivity, torture, blood, rescue, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

The Taste Of Your Lips--TW: poisoning, loss of consciousness, caretaker and whumpee

Down--TW: kidnapping, torture, burns, branding, defiant whumpee

Blood in the Cut--TW: blood, gunshot wound, caretaker and whumpee, hospital, unclear character status

Golden--TW: captivity, restraints, torture, broken bones

Why--TW: referenced captivity, referenced torture, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Tumbling Down--TW: blood, stabbing, knives, wounds, hidden injury

Thunder--TW: abduction, yandere whumper

Useless--TW: blood, stabbing, injury, wounds, mcd, sadistic whumper, restraints

Bewitch--TW: mind control, yandere

Where Was I?--TW: death, blood, violence, immortal whump

Yandere doctor whumper request--TW: yandere, kidnapping, creepy/intimate whumper

Yandere drider request--TW: yandere, kidnapping, creepy/intimate whumper

Tiefling whumpee--TW: captivity, restraints, implied torture

Sucker--TW: physical violence, blood

Delirium and sedation request--TW: captivity, torture, wounds, infection, delirium, noncon drugging

Remember--TW: captivity, restraints, noncon implied, creepy/intimate whumper

Sound--TW: captivity, torture, gag, violence, electrocution, cruel whumper, caretaker and whumpee

Cold, Cold Heart--TW: escape, hypothermia, rescue, caretaker and whumpee

Frozen--TW: captivity, torture, drowning, rescue, cpr

Nightmare Before Christmas--TW: nightmares, PTSD, referenced captivity, referenced torture, blood, wounds, mcd, flashbacks, hurt/no comfort

Home Alone--TW: referenced gun shot, referenced wounds, referenced blood, referenced hospital, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Stormy Night--TW: restraints, captivity, torture, cruel whumper, defiant whumpee

Dreaming--TW: referenced loss, grief, nightmares, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Miracle on 34th Street--TW: emotional whump, emotional degradation, emotional abuse, threat of torture, threat of death

Breath--TW: broken bones, hidden injury

Open--TW: blood, wounds, cuts, referenced captivity, referenced torture, caretaker and whumpee, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

It's a Wonderful Life--TW: restraints, fire, threat of death, ritual sacrifice

Notice--TW: referenced stab wound, blood, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Frosty the Snowman--TW: torture, captivity, body modification, blood, infection

Separate--TW: explosion, cave in, head injury

How the Grinch Stole Christmas--TW: captivity, torture, restraints, stress position, suffocation

Under Your Scars--TW: referenced captivity, referenced torture, scars, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Flinch--TW: burns

A Christmas Story--TW: gunshot, guns, blood, wounds, bleeding out

Fake--TW: blood, presumed dead, escape, grief, reunion, caretaker and whumpee

A Christmas Carol--TW: head injury, concussion

Fine in a Minute--TW: escape, captivity, torture, blood, wounds, unconsciousness

The Christmas Shoes--TW: blood, stab wound, bleeding out, mcd, hurt/no comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Won't--TW: captivity, torture, escape

Polar Express--TW: referenced drowning, referenced torture, caretaker and whumpee, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

Swallowed--TW: referenced kidnapping, implied noncon, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Show and Tell--TW: captivity, torture, scars, wounds, restraints, cruel whumper

Elf--TW: rope, ligature, strangulation, hanging

Bend Until Broken--TW: captivity, restrains, torture, broken bone, cruel whumper

The Nutcracker--TW: captivity, restraints, body modification, self sacrifice, forced to watch, blood, unclear character status

Barista whumpee request--TW: Kidnapping, yandere whumper, drugging, escape

Unknown--TW: referenced captivity, referenced torture, touch-starved, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort

To Beat the Devil--TW: stab wound, beating, hospital, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

Silence--TW: betrayal, restraints, drowning, rescue, caretaker and whumpee

Emoji ask game request--TW: broken bones, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

Emoji ask game second request--TW: near death character, torture, captivity, rescue, electrocution, blood, stab wounds, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Electrify--TW: captivity, restraints, torture, electrocution, unclear character status, forced to watch

Walls--TW: referenced captivity, referenced torture, referenced restraints, panic attack, PTSD, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Lay Me Down--TW: gun shot, blood, wounds, unconsciousness

Antici-pation--TW: captivity, torture, threatening behavior, restraints, falling from a great height, broken bones, unconsciousness

In the End--TW: forced to watch, captivity, wounds, blood, torture, injury, failed escape attempt, cage

Hospital request--TW: wounds, infection, hospital, sedation, restraints

Scuttle--TW: threat of violence, captivity, torture, cruel whumper

Yandere ex-lover request--TW: captivity, restraints, creepy/intimate whumper, yandere

Flutter--TW: captivity, restraints, torture, forced to watch, beating, caretaker and whumpee

Spacship whump request--TW: captivity, torture, hurt/no comfort, cruel whumper, second whumper, inhuman whumper

Growing Bored--TW: captivity, torture, wounds, blood, restraints

Noggin--TW: concussion, head injury, blood, injury, caretaker and whumpee

Wake Me Up--TW: referenced captivity, referenced sensory deprivation, nightmares, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Tear My Heart Open--TW: torture, restraints, captivity, scars, wounds, bleeding, infection, rescue, caretaker and whumpee

Shocking--TW: captivity, torture, bruises, electrocution, restraints, defiant whumpee

Move--TW: gun, threat of violence, kidnapping

Magic spell request--TW: magic, self sacrifice, revenge

Stay With Me--TW: stabbing, blood, wounds, unconsciousness

[throwaway588924578]

What really happened

For clarification, these are mostly allegations but since there seems to be some truth behind them and everyone seems to believe allegations without proof anyway, I thought someone should make a post to show the other side in this situation aren't the innocent angels they make themselves out to be and actually seemed to have purposely kept this going after stating they want to move on.

The main person this post will concern though is tumblr user Swanee (@/newdaybreak) and her friends who target harassed another self shipper for the last year over sharing f/os.

Tw/cw for harassment, mentions of self harm/suicide.

This vent post from Jade Rose on their twt was my introduction to this "drama" and I think it should be read. It explains what happened from their side of the story and how it affected them.

Tl;dr: Swanee allegedly vague posted began harassing Jade alongside her friends after Jade followed her when they shipped with Kanata, unaware that Swanee didn't like sharing. They were not trying to cross Swanee's boundaries, they were genuinely unaware that sharing was an issue for her. Since then Jade lost any friends they had then and suffered from suicidal thoughts and even attempted suicide. I can't find the vague post mentioned or any posts from Jade or Swanee made at this time as they both seemed to have deactivated their origin blogs.

Jade also supposedly received harassing anons they think we're sent by Swanee and her friends. These anons included death threats, encouragement to self harm and end their life, telling them Eden didn't love them and wanted them dead, ableist and transphobic comments. Some examples are down below (picked ones that weren't too bad to share because some are just too much)

They also received the following message (as well as other harassing messages) on their retrospring when they attempted to migrate to twt which they think is from Swanee or one of her friends

Jade suffers from bpd and has said before that things like being spammed with harassment trigger breakdowns and they will have serious suicidal thoughts. Lots of people have apparently mistaken this for bait but Jade said they can't control it and genuinely are thinking those things when it happens which is why they ask people not to harass them.

Though Jade has apologised for everything they've actually done wrong, but people still defend the person who has harassed them and not yet apologised.

Honestly, as an outsider in all this, I think this is very chronically online behaviour and some of those callouts I've seen haven't had much evidence either. People can lie online. Yes, even about racism. In a community like the self ship community, isn't everyone welcome? There are far worse people allowed in the community than Jade, who have actual evidence against them too, yet Jade is the one outed because a popular blog said theyre a bad person?

I've seen their account, they seem like a sweet person who just wants a platform for their ship. They haven't harassed that other shipper and I think it's unfair to continue to out and harass them.

This community is supposed to be a safe space after, so why are we not allowing this one person to be apart of our community and make friends? It's unfair since no actual proof aside from one out of context screenshot and just screenshots of their breakdowns (that were triggered by harassment and Jade even apologized for them) against them. This whole situation could have been avoided if Swanee had blocked Jade or told them that they weren't okay sharing instead of taking the approach she did to the situation.

I may add more to this if I think of anything. I'm tired btw so sorry if some parts didn't make sense.

Rbs are appreciated and my asks are open for questions or discussions. I'm not actually friends or close with Jade Rose however so I may not be able to answer or give clarification for some things.

[mortumslab]

Remembering to be Human - Chapter 6

Next chapter! As always, feedback and comments are appreciated!

(tw: violence, suicidal ideation)

You startle to consciousness. No dreams. Odd. Your head hurts. Your vision is dazed. No. Not dazed. Missing. The Rat King informs you that you were knocked out. Someone must have snuck up on you while you beat Jake into submission. Jake. Nocturne. Hollow Ground. Panic. Where are you? Were you captured? Fear courses through you. Not again. Not again.

“Hey!” A voice cuts through your panic. Heart still ricocheting off your ribs, you extend your senses. There are three others with you in some sort of vehicle, based on the movement under you. Nocturne probably caught you in her eyesight before you went unconscious. Whoever hit you did a number on you, though. Probably a Ranger, as the other big hitter was under you.

The person who spoke seems to be an LDPD officer. His name is unimportant, but he’s worried about the four criminals he has in his armored vehicle. He doesn’t know the older woman, but the other two are highly suspected to be working for Hollow Ground. If the kingpin actually exists. He knows the last one very well. A new and very, very unknown villain. Heartbreak. He’s afraid of Heartbreak. Afraid of you.

“Officer.” Your voice modulator makes the word sound harrowing. “I assume you’re taking us to Ranger HQ.” Yes. He doesn’t say it, but he thinks it.

“Nocturne. Would you mind giving me my vision back?” You know she’s conscious and in front of you. They placed the three of them across from you. Apparently noting that there was a confrontation before they got there. Trouble in villainy paradise. 

“Go fuck yourself.” 

“Pleasant.” You subtly probe her mind. She’s not actively maintaining the effect, and you know from your research that it will end after a time. “Is Manalo alive?” You know he is, but you shouldn’t know that.

“Barely. Herald cold-clocked you before you could kill him.” So that’s who got you. It was a good hit. You wish it had killed you. Don’t.

“Good. He should face proper justice as well.” You say this without a hint of irony. You know you’re also outside the law. Unless the Rangers have betrayed you. Don’t think about that. They didn’t before, and they won’t now.

“You’re here too, you know.” Hollow Ground finally speaks. She sounds nervous, but she’s maintaining her composure well. 

“So I am. Should be good fun escaping.” Having beaten the Rangers before makes you a threat. To heroes and villains alike. Your confidence is warranted. Though you hope it won’t be necessary. You feel the fear spike in the LDPD officer. Good. They should be afraid. Unfettered by the chains of the police, your plans might truly come to fruition.

“Did you call the Rangers?” Nocturne sounds like she’s to your right. Jake must be unconscious next to the divider of the cabin. Incapacitating Hollow Ground’s right-hand man feels good. Really good. You were laughing. 

“Did you?” Nocturne asks again. You rouse yourself from your musings.

“Sorry, I was thinking about how good it felt to break Jake’s nose.” You smile, thankful your helmet is still on. Arya is not this confident. Heartbreak is. “And no, I did not. I want to joy of hospitalizing you, not Charge.” You try to put some venom in the last bit. It seems to work.

“Psychopath.” Nocturne mumbles. “You should have taken our deal. Or at least killed us when you didn’t.” 

“Killing you doesn’t fix anything. Wouldn’t be the first time Hollow Ground has died anyways, right?” You’re not supposed to know that, and you can sense a wave of anxiety shooting through the kingpin and her lover. 

“What do you mean?” Hollow Ground asks. She’s not a fighter. She relies far too heavily on her telepathy. Something the Farm tried to force you to do. You made this choice.

“Regardless, I’m a wanted man. It would be imprudent to get caught. Not to mention you saw Herald clock me. I was too busy brutalizing your man there.” You don’t answer her question. Heartbreak doesn’t follow rules. She doesn’t like rules. The rules put people like Hollow Ground in power. Like Mayor Alvarez. Like the LDPD. Rules are meant to be obliterated. Weak people answer Hollow Ground. You don’t.

“Well, are you going to leave us to them?” Hollow Ground seems anxious about being brought to Ranger HQ. Good.

“I don’t expect to leave you. I want to make sure you’re treated like the criminals you are. Not the monarch you pretend to be.” There is venom in your voice. Good. Get angry. “In fact, the moment I’m able to see and out of these manacles, I will help make sure no one can recognize your pretty face.”

“Good luck with that in the Ranger compound.” Hollow Ground sounds more confident now. What is her game? She was captured easily. Far easier than she should have been. Paranoia has gotten you this far. Someone like Hollow Ground would not allow you to stroll into her compound in your armor without a contingency plan. This isn’t good. You need to warn the Rangers.

You tell Rat King to send a message to Julia to tell her to be on the lookout. You don’t like how easily the kingpin lets herself be caught and captured. The Rat King chitters in your mind. You tell them it is okay to say you love her. Saps, the both of them. He chitters in your mind again. Julia is aware of the suspicious nature of the capture. They’re securing all prisoners and contraband. The kind you stole.

“Alright, freaks!” The LDPD officer gets out of the vehicle. His partner exits as well. You’re starting to get your vision back. You see the door to the vehicle open, and the officer goes for you first. You let him remove your ankle brace and let him lead you out of the armored van. Sure enough, you’re at Ranger HQ. The prisoner transport side. You never knew where the prisoners were kept here. 

You see other Ranger staff exit the building and begin to unrestrain the others. Where are they going to take you? Who else is being held here? You might be able to do some information gathering. You know Psychopathor was taken by the Directive, but taken where? He was always one to have good snippets of rumors. Mia Ochoa had interviewed him before. 

You’re led into the rear entrance of the building and to an open elevator labeled “Holding.” The elevator begins to descend, and you get a pang of fear. 

No, this isn’t the Farm. You will be okay. Julia will save you. This is going according to plan. 

You expect to be held here overnight and probably allowed to escape. You have yet to be stripped of your armor. You won’t let that happen. You’ll have to ask for forgiveness for any Ranger bones you break. No one will strip you again. No one. 

The elevator comes to a rest a few moments later. The holding chamber has around six cells, three on either side. There is an administrative desk before the first row. You’re pushed roughly into the first cell. You can tell there are two other minds here. One you don’t know. A low-level villain and… Psychopathor. You had no idea he was here. The villain is one of Los Diabolos’ most feared. Simply an unstoppable titan of mods, muscle, and madness. Though a regulated madness, according to his mind.

You will need to arrange a meeting. Maybe out of the suit. You need to be on alert for any plots by Hollow Ground. Except. Shit. You hear commotion through the communicator on the holding cell guard. It seems like the kingpin won’t be going quietly. 

A few minutes pass, and several people enter the holding room. Charge, Herald, a barely recognizable Jake Manalo, Nocturne, and… Argent. No one else. Charge looks vicious. From the minds of the others who had just entered, chaos broke out as two unknown boosts killed the LDPD transit officers and left with Hollow Ground, leaving her two lieutenants behind. Nocturne is not happy. Manalo is barely holding onto consciousness. Steel went to pursue the boosts, but you know he’s not going to catch them. You’ll still get your mark it seems. 

The other two are tossed into the cell across from you. You avoid eye contact with Nocturne. Not doing that again. Fuck. The uncomfortably familiar weighted blanket settles around your mind. Dampeners. With nothing to be done, you take a seat. You can’t penetrate the holding cells. In fact, you’re no longer able to sense anything past your cell. 

No. No. No. Not again. You will not be restrained. 

Charge and the other Rangers walk by. No one but Charge meets your eye. She gives you the faintest of smiles. Maybe you haven’t been betrayed. It feels like it. But you’re going to give her the benefit of the doubt. You still have your nanovores. Take the time now to get your information and then escape. Hopefully, the Rangers will make a half-hearted attempt to stop you. Or maybe they won’t. You don’t want to hurt them again. You hope you can contain your fear. If you lose it again. You might kill one of them. You know you will. You almost… you almost killed Julia. 

Calm.

Calm down. 

You’re Arya. 

Remember. Be. Human. 

Not Human. Re-Gene. 

Human. Human. 

Get out of your head.

You need to distract yourself. Might as well get some information while you’re here.

“Hey, Psychopathor… Kurt.” You use his first name. You know it might get a better response. 

“Hey, Heartbreak… No-name.” Ah. Good to see the midwesterner still has his humor. 

“They treating you okay down here?” 

“Well. The cells are reinforced. And my mods are disabled. But otherwise, I am alive.” He pauses. “Why do you care? Last I hear, you’re taking on villains more than heroes.” 

“I’m taking on those in power. The city runs on villainy. Can’t help they’re in my way.”

“Very well. I appreciate a driven person.”

“We need to talk. I hear the Directive did a number on you.” 

A growl. Sore spot. “Doubt the Rangers will let you.” Then he goes silent again.

The elevator sounds again. Charge appears at your cell. She looks serious. You hope this is an act. 

“You’re up first, Heartbreak.”

“Officer, I’m guilty; why don’t you use the restraints.” You try humor to mask your nervousness. Heartbreak is a flirt, after all.

Charge looks like she buffers for a moment. “We do not have time for games, villain.” 

“Oh, of course we do. You have half of Los Diabolos’ A-listers locked up in here. Who else is going to cause trouble?” Charge unlocks the door, takes out a pair of restraints, and closes them tightly over your armored wrists. 

That was a mistake. You don't even have time to acknowledge the panic attack before it overwhelms you. 

No. No. Restrained. 

Never again. Not going back. 

you won't. no. never.

Darkness. 

The Farm. You've escaped again. You're in Los Diabolos. 

The city looks the same. 

You're not the same. 

Broken. Dismissed. Forgotten. 

Ortega forgot about you. She never came for you.  She moved on. 

You're unwanted. Angry. You're so angry. 

You'll show them. You'll make them pay. 

[eldritchaccident]

Timing: Some point last week Location: Teddy's Houseboat Feat: @mortemoppetere & @eldritchaccident Warnings: suicidal ideation tw Summary: Pissed about what Teddy said online, Emilio heads over to the boat to give the demon a piece of his mind.

He was angry. He was angry, and he knew he had no right to be. Emilio had said far worse to Teddy than they’d said to him in their online dispute, but the anger was there all the same. And he knew, on some level, that it was displaced; his mind was still ringing with that vampire’s words, hands still shaking with the weight of a stake they no longer held. I heard she died screaming. I heard she was terrified. They both were. 

He couldn’t get the vampire’s voice out of his head, and it was stupid. The vampire was dead. (Everyone was dead.) Emilio wasn’t. Wasn’t that supposed to mean he’d won? 

Teddy’s words, by comparison, had been nothing, of course. A dig about his drinking, which was no secret. A comment about his inability to be happy, which everyone knew. A remark about the way he viewed himself as a monster, which he’d never tried to hide. Teddy hadn’t said anything remarkably cruel, but Nora was in the damn mines and Ren was still radio silent and he didn’t want his neighbors to see him like this, so the demon became an easy target for that misplaced rage.

It was the second time he’d ever gone to Teddy’s boat intentionally. The first, of course, had been the first day they met, when he was investigating them and they were having a grand old time jerking him around. He’d been here since, but usually in some state of disrepair. Bleeding out on the sheets, drunk and cursed. He never thought he would come here willingly again, considering how much he hated the feel of the boat beneath his feet, but anger and grief made a man do all the things he swore he wouldn’t.

He knocked on the door. Once. Twice. No answer. Rather than knock a third time, the detective did something just his brand of petty and picked the lock. It was surprisingly complex, for the lock on a damn houseboat, but he was decent at this. When Emilio decided a skill was worth learning, he rarely let himself rest until he’d perfected it. That same paranoid part of his brain that warned him of threats around every goddamn corner was also pretty sure that knowing how to pick a lock was the only thing that would save him from about a dozen entirely unlikely scenarios, so he’d practiced. It came in handy now; Teddy’s door popped open, and the slayer let himself in loudly. 

“What the fuck is wrong with —” He stopped. Took in the state of the place. Messier than it had been any time he’d been here before, with Teddy on the couch looking… Well. Looking not dissimilar from what Emilio must have looked like on the roof that night they’d pulled him down. Carefully, Emilio approached. Not gentle, but not quite as angry as he had been to start with. The anger, after all, had been a distraction; you could find other distractions, if you knew where to look. Any one would do. “You happen to touch any cursed necklaces lately? You look like shit, wey.”

—

Some fevers creep in slow. Take weeks to build up to anything meaningful. Then they are gone just as soon as they come. This wasn’t like that. No, not at all. Teddy didn’t even remember starting to feel like shit. Just getting hit by it like a truck. One second they had a minor irritation in their shoulder, the next they felt like the sky had collapsed and it was personally their fault. Somehow also everyone else’s too. They were biting and snapping at anyone who dared so much as talk in their direction. Harsh retorts they wouldn’t say on their worst day. Though, guess that couldn’t be said anymore. 

Teddy’s skin sallowed, hung off their bones like they were moments from shedding it entirely. The comparison to how they’d found the detective wasn’t untrue. They were wildeyed, stumbling and slurring. Though no alcohol could be blamed. Nor could any necklaces. Cursed or no. Ted sat with the stinging song, whirring around their head and whispering a warbling tone that this was just who they were now. This was natural. Some sort of metamorphosis that was always meant to break them down and build them anew. 

A series of sparks lit inside the demon as the other man stepped into the houseboat. One of rage, fierce and bright. It wanted to lunge, to use all the force they could to hold the man down and make him pay for the audacity of breaking into Teddy’s house. 

The next was fear. Fear of the light pouring in behind the slayer. Fear that the slayer had come to do the job he was supposed to do all along. Fear that he’d be right to. Fear that they’d taken it a bit too far, that they weren’t fit to be around people at all anymore. That this was the end and they wouldn’t ever even get to say goodbye because they didn’t deserve to anymore. Fear that they would do something the both of them would regret. They certainly felt wound up enough to strike.

The last was as shocking as it was distressing. Delight. Teddy’s heartbeat raced, swelling in their chest. With so many primordial emotions surfacing at once, there was no deliberation between what should have been hidden behind layers of self-doubt or fear of committing to anything, even a friendship. 

“Why–” A sudden rush of outside influence bid Teddy in about seven different directions. All tying their tongue to a single word instead of a whole question. Each at odds with each other until one claimed victory above the rest. “Why the fuck are you here?” Anger, it seemed, was loudest. 

—

It was a fair question. For a moment, Emilio considered letting the anger feed into his own. It was tempting to fall back on the cushion that had always been waiting to catch him, the only arms that had ever seen fit to embrace him in the long term. If grief was a crushing weight, anger had always felt like a piece of rebar piercing his chest to hold it just a few inches away from making contact. It hurt just as much, and it’d bleed him out in the end, but it kept that weight at bay. 

He wasn’t entirely sure what stopped him. Maybe it was the memory of the last time he’d been on this boat, when he’d probably looked as shitty as Teddy did now, when he’d been spitting every profanity in the book and Teddy had still wanted to help. No matter how much he pushed or lashed out, Teddy always wanted to help. It was why their interaction today had felt so off, so wrong. And maybe, deep down, Emilio could admit that it wasn’t just anger that drove him here today. Something was wrong. He didn’t know if he could fix it, but maybe he could try. It was what Teddy had done for him, wasn’t it?

“Came to kick your scrawny ass,” he replied, “but it looks like life beat me to it.” In spite of his internal acknowledgement that there was concern living beneath the anger, his tone was the same dry irritation it always was with Teddy. He didn’t know how to change it, or maybe he was afraid of what might happen if he tried. The idea of making an effort to stop being an ass to Teddy was just about the only thing more terrifying than the desire to keep it up. “How long’s this been going on?”

He moved into the kitchen as he spoke, turned on the sink and filled a glass with water. After a moment’s thought, he grabbed a dishtowel and soaked it in cold water, too. He didn’t know much about taking care of someone who was sick. Hunters didn’t get sick often, and his mother wouldn’t have taken care of him much if he had. But he remembered his uncle doing this for one of his cousins, once. Cold towel on the forehead, whiskey to ease the pain.

He tried not to think about how that particular story had ended. That was how it always ended for hunters, after all. But Teddy wasn’t a hunter. If Levi was any indication, they’d be kicking long after Emilio was gone. Still, there was this need to comfort. And still, Emilio was bad at it. Knives were only ever built to hurt. It made sense that trying to make a caretaker out of one would leave it frazzled.

Making his way back over, he held up the glass of water as if to show it to Teddy before pushing it towards them. The way he slapped the cold compress onto their forehead wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t rough enough to cause them any more pain, either. “You get sick a lot?”

—

A normal sickness would have dulled their senses. Made it harder to parse through the details and figure out exactly what was going on. In respect to the source, perhaps this did. But everything else? Irritating, far too bright, agitating, in stark detail and all together something Teddy began to despise. The more time passed, the more the fever took them, the more they only wanted to run and hide. Recuse themself from the world above and dive deep down below the waves. Or dig into the earth. The demon had never been much of a tunneler, but something called to them. Beneath the town. 

Come to the mines, come to the mines. 

Emilio moved through Ted’s space and the demon watched him like an ambush predator. Dark eyes that had been keen on studying the man before now took on a much more hungry tone. Their breath kept their head from being still, each labored grasp for air shuddered the whole of their body with it. Pain eked at every inch of the demon. Feeling as if their joints were drifting apart like landmasses during an exceptionally quick continental drift. 

“It’s fine.” Teddy barked. Ignoring the first comment because to respond meant either slinging something far too harsh, or playing into the stupid back and forth they used to share. Why– Why did Teddy feel this fire now? Why had things shifted so suddenly, weren’t they just good? Didn’t they just share a meal and even laughter? Their addled mind rolled with these questions even when anger was still at the helm. Still controlling their voice. “Ain’t your fucking business.” Maybe this was just… demon puberty? Maybe Teddy had finally shed the very last of their humanity and they were becoming something new. They weren’t sure they liked it. They were very sure they didn’t like themselves like this. 

Eyes screwed shut. A heaving mass of magical energy flowed in and around Teddy. Doubling them forward until their forehead met with the cold cloth. All at once leaning into it like salvation and recoiling as if it burned their skin. A hand shot up, unintentionally grabbing at the slayer’s arm with a force they’d never shown. Maybe it was some small part of their animal brain, displaying power even in this state. Maybe they wanted to show the detective that he couldn’t kick their ass. 

It faltered though, before any damage could be done. As the person behind the fever waged war inside their head. A wave of pain bowled Teddy over again, this close they found themselves leaning against the man. The grasp on his arm became soft, apologetic. Their eyes opened finally, looking up to Emilio’s, pleading. Saying sorry without ever being able to verbalize it. 

“You should leave.” 

— 

“It’s not,” Emilio replied flatly. In Teddy’s position, he was sure he’d be much the same. Lashing out, insisting that everything was fine and okay and begging to be left alone. Emilio retreated into himself when he was hurt, and the few times in his life he’d ever had a fever had been much the same. He still remembered the last time he’d felt that heat building inside of him — in the woods, his daughter’s blood beneath his fingernails, his leg festering under an infection he didn’t care to survive. If Rhett hadn’t found him and forced him into his stolen van, Emilio would have died burning up from that fever. He thought maybe that was why he was helping Teddy now — some desperate attempt to return what had been done for him to someone else. He couldn’t do it for Rhett, because Rhett didn’t tend to let himself get that bad, and because seeing Rhett in such a state always made Emilio feel a little like the world was crumbling. But he could do it for Teddy, even if Teddy didn’t want him to do it at all. That was the only reason he was here, wasn’t it? Balance. He liked balance. 

Ignoring the bite in the demon’s tone, the hunter shrugged. “Never been much good at minding my fucking business, have I?” Neither was Teddy. If they were, they’d have left Emilio on the roof the night they stumbled upon him, would have left him in that alley the night he’d put himself up against a hellhound. If Teddy were better and minding their business, Emilio would probably be dead. And that would certainly be better for everyone involved, he knew — the most useful things he’d done recently had been rescuing a bear from execution and babysitting a demon that he’d nearly tossed out a window, and both of those could have been accomplished by someone else in his absence. He knew that. But…

Teddy was different, weren’t they? Emilio would never admit it, but he could recognize that Teddy brought far more to the world than he did. Teddy was kind, even when they had no reason to be. Teddy had a father who cared for them so deeply that he’d kill anyone who did them wrong. Teddy cared for animals in a way that mattered. Teddy probably had plenty of friends who knew them entirely and liked them anyway. Emilio, by comparison, had very little. He had a few people who knew only surface level details about who he was, and he doubted any of them would like him much if they knew the full truth instead. He had a brother who only knew the man he used to be and would hate the man he was now. He had a childhood friend he could no longer look in the eye because he was a god awful, irredeemable asshole who was jealous of the fact that her children were alive while his was buried. If it were Emilio in Teddy’s position now, he thought things would be better. The world could go on spinning just fine without Emilio Cortez in it. He’d known that for as long as he’d known his name.

Teddy leaned forward, and the grip they used to grab Emilio’s arm was tight and bruising for only a moment before it softened, before they leaned against him like he was something worth leaning against. He swallowed everything that came to his mind, because he wanted to lash out against the gentleness far more than he’d wanted to lash out against that momentary vice grip. He wanted to say get the fuck off me without knowing why, wanted to shove Teddy back down and pretend it was for their benefit instead of to escape the way their touch felt better than it should have. He wanted to do a lot of shitty, terrible things, but Teddy was in a bad enough state as it was. “I should do a lot of things,” he replied, mouth drier than it should have been. “Never been much good at any of them.”

With Teddy’s new position, leaned forward off the couch, something caught his eye. A flash of purple protruding out of their back. Hesitantly, Emilio reached out to touch the skin surrounding it. “What the fuck,” he murmured, more to himself than to the demon leaned against him. Carefully, he looked down at them. “You’ve got one of those fucking crystals in your back, dumbass. Christ, that’s probably what’s making you sick. I bet it’s infected.” Did demons get infections? He knew, intimately, that slayers could, but he didn’t know much about demons. “Let me help you get it out.” That was the first step, wasn’t it? He didn’t know shit about first aid, but he knew leaving a foreign body under someone’s skin was probably a bad idea.

—

Sea sickness had never been something the demon had experienced before, but this was probably how it felt. Teddy felt the weight of the world flushing through their ears, each sway magnified and pressurized the stubborn sting in their head. It was so hard to think. So hard to let any clarity peak through the hazy fog. Not even Teddy’s wards and runes could help. The cool water on their forehead was a half-hearted salve to a festering wound that went so much deeper than the crystal protruding from their back.

Wait– there was a…? An unsteady keel swayed the demon like a buoy in a hurricane. When had they even–? Why would there be a crystal in– the Treepy. Fuck. Only a week or so ago, but it must have gotten lodged in when Teddy had been thrown against the shard, sunken in worse when they shifted around it. Worse than any of the splinters and twice as dangerous. However it came with a glimmer of hope. If this was from those stupid crystals than that meant it wasn’t just demon bullshit and– 

Their breath hitched, their hand went to reach back but Emilio beat them to it. The touch shocked them worse than an electric chair set to max. Teddy’s back arched and they sprang forward. A cat’s reflexes and a hyena’s temper. The crystal pulsed and pushed itself in further. A parasite protesting its own removal. Glowing purple tendrils spread out from the infection site, and slid the human disguise from Ted’s skin. Where blue skin had been before a mottled grayish stone looking flesh replaced it. While no other crystal protrusions had sprouted yet, their veins pulsed that same eerie purple as the pinprick pupils in the demon’s wild eyes.

Milliseconds after the jump, they pounced. Wrestling the man to the floor. Shattering the glass of water in the process. Emilo’s arms pinned above his head, far enough away from anything that could be grabbed as an improvised weapon. Teddy’s shaking chest heaved with the effort, just barely gracing the detectives each time it sank. Their teeth, sharpened and elongated, sat just centimeters above the man’s throat. Stopped only by the sheer force of every bit of will Ted had left in them. 

What were they doing? What the hell were they doing?! Teddy never wanted to hurt Emilio, despite any of the animosity. Fake or real. Hell, they were starting to really like the guy. Even if they didn’t want to. Even if they didn’t really even know what that meant. Their stomach twisted and sank like a lead airship. What the fuck was going on? 

“No-no no no.” Teddy rolled off, backed themselves into a corner. Their voice was harsh, doubled. Close to how it sounded when they fully transformed, which didn’t feel too far off. “Please, Emilio, leave. I don’t want to hurt you.” They begged, not knowing how long they’d be able to hold onto this lucidity. 

—     

Touching the area around the crystal seemed to have an adverse effect. Teddy hunched forward, and their skin seemed to shift around the intrusion. Purple tendrils spread out around it, making it clear that this was no ordinary infection. Something supernatural, then — which might make it the only thing that was actually dangerous to a demon. Teddy might not know that Emilio was aware of their… history, or how Leviathan had contributed to their nature, and Emilio wouldn’t tell them unless they decided they were ready to share the information with him themself, but he knew enough that he hadn’t been too worried until now. Demons, he’d figured, could bounce back quickly from any human infection. But this? This was something different.

He thought of Nora, in the mines. The photos she’d sent him of the crystals overtaking her entire body, the way it had spread. Was that the same thing Teddy was dealing with here? Had she been this sick, or was she still? Concern ebbed in his chest, and he decided that he’d have to do something about it. “Look, I’m sorry. I can’t pull it out, but I can probably cut it out. It’ll hurt like hell, but —” 

He didn’t finish the sentence. In a heartbeat, Teddy was springing forward. There was glass breaking, there was a weight on top of him, there was a pressure on his wrists pinning his hands above his head. For a moment, it was a few days ago and he was in an alley with hands around his throat. I heard she died screaming. Teeth at his throat, heart in his stomach, and he wanted to scream. Get off me, get the fuck off of me, don’t fucking touch me. Despite the fever, Teddy was strong. Emilio figured he could break free, but not without hurting them. And he was so fucking tired of hurting people.

They lay there for a beat, suspended. Teddy’s teeth at his throat,stopping just short of sinking into his flesh. His arms pinned above his head, pressure building on the still-healing bruises that vampire had left. His mind somewhere else, listening to echoes of cruel truths he’d never wanted to hear. Both their chests heaving, neither of them entirely present.

And then, Teddy was rolling off, backing themself into a corner, speaking in an inhuman voice that Emilio wasn’t sure whether to contribute to the crystal in their back or the demon in their history. “Fuck you,” he said, a little harsher than he might have if the nausea weren’t still building in his gut. “You think you can hurt me? Not even if you tried, Jones.” He pushed himself to his feet, broken glass digging into the palms of his hands in a way that might have been a little more intentional than he’d care to admit. An old trick he’d learned from Rhett — sometimes, the best way to ground yourself in any given moment or reality was to make it hurt. 

Limping forward, he put his hands under Teddy’s arms and pulled them to their feet, steering them back towards the couch and trying to ignore the way his mouth felt dry and his heart was still pounding. Safe, safe, it’s okay, you’re safe, he tried to remind himself, but it sounded laughable. He wasn’t safe here. He wasn’t safe anywhere. Paranoia dug its long fingers into his mind, twisting them into his thoughts. Teddy was a demon, and Teddy could throw him to the ground without trying, and Teddy said they didn’t want to hurt him but how many people had said the same? Lucio used to —

No. No, not now. He couldn’t afford to be a person now, with thoughts and memories and bitter paranoia twisting everything up into ghosts and hauntings. No one needed the man he pretended to be when he let himself be a man. But Teddy didn’t need a knife, either, did they? They needed something real, something solid, something good. And Emilio was none of those things. He couldn’t help Teddy, couldn’t help Nora, couldn’t save —

I heard she died screaming. 

He shook his head. “I’m getting you another glass of water. Don’t break this one, asshole.” Moving back into the kitchen would let him exist out of sight, for a moment. Maybe he could figure out what he needed to be there.

—

Awareness of the outside influence was enough to keep Teddy clinging to the present. Lucidity held like water between shaking hands. Clinging to anything real like it was made of gold. Their head was spinning. A funhouse version of everything they knew. Whispers drew them one way, then shouts would push another. There was no rhyme or reason to any of it, only the constant flow of pandemonium. Reality was slipping away like sand on the shore. Any singular thing could have been an illusion. Carefully crafted to get the crystal embedded in Ted’s back whatever the hell it was that it wanted. 

It was the stark contrast of Emilio’s words and actions that set him apart from the rest of the multitudes. 

Teddy could guess why their mind might make a facsimile of the hunter. Weeks ago they had been in the reverse of this situation. It was both fresh and relevant, ripe for a delusion to creep in. While the demon didn’t fully know how they were supposed to feel about the man, they did know there was no one way to feel that was objectively correct. Straddling the obvious, the surface level that Cortez showed the world, and the tiny glimpses of light underneath. Nuance. Depth. Something that Teddy often wondered if Emilio even saw in himself. He could be two things at once. 

In a way that illusions often failed to be.

Emilio didn’t run away, didn’t try to hurt Ted for their destructive outburst, nor did he offer sweet platitudes with his attempted comfort. (Honestly if he did it would be much more convincing that none of this was real at all.) Teddy wished they could say it was surprising that he was here, but was it? Really? Hunters are born protectors. In their own minds at least. At best, they can only hope to die saving someone. Emilio wanted that. They could tell. Every inch of that man ached to die for something, anything, good. He dove headlong into danger at the smallest prospect of leaving something positive in his wake. Why Ted would be in that category was a mystery, but maybe it was a sense of… payback. This was his way of saying thank you for saving the man’s life. Several times. 

Maybe that’s why he stayed. Maybe that’s why he stared at Teddy with a steadiness that actually shook the demon further than any insult or remark the man could have ever made. There was a new kind of fluttering in their chest as Emilio crossed the distance. Picked them up off the floor and sat them down somewhere softer. If not for the pounding in their head, the vibrant ache in every joint and the searing radial pain from the goddamn crystal in their goddamn back, maybe it would have felt good. Maybe they would have liked it. As it was though, the demon was just fighting for consciousness.

If they lost that battle, who knows what would happen. Would the sea monster take over? As it had so often when faced so closely with the void, the unending sleep. Driven solely on mindless instinct and rage, would Teddy be able to recognize Emilio as something that should be kept safe? They didn’t know. A fact which filled them with a bit too much fear, and a hell of a lot more fervor to fight the fever. 

“So–” Teddy finally croaked. Sipping at the water greedily, downing the whole cup in seconds. Still leaving their throat parched and sore. “Can’t touch it.” They motioned to Emilio. Option one easy route? Denied. “Don’t think I can either.” Even the thought of trying to yank that thing out was met with so much force of opposition that Ted swayed, dizzy and dangerously close to giving in to the song once more. “This– This kinda sucks.” A broken laugh crackled out of the demon’s chest. Seeing the cliff you were about to go over, knowing there was nothing to grab onto… well it wasn’t pretty. 

“Can’t believe your dumb face is gonna be the–” a wheezy pause. “–the last thing I see.” Before becoming some mindless monster. Damn. There was so much more fun to be had. So much of the world they hadn’t explored yet. So many people they were actually getting close to, for the first time perhaps, ever. Failing a solution in the next few hours (as that’s all Teds felt like they had left in them) shit in Wicked’s Rest was about to get… bad. 

— 

His mind was still a battleground, still caught between past and present, but it always was. Emilio had long since grown used to the way one moment bled into another, the way his mind operated as a time machine he’d never asked to climb inside. Teddy was on the floor of the boat. Teddy was on the floor of that house in Mexico. Teddy was alive. Teddy was dead. Teddy was Teddy. Teddy was Juliana, was Flora, was a long list of ghosts that Emilio hadn’t saved. The slayer shook his head, selfishly glad that the demon was so out of it. Teddy had seen Emilio in a vulnerable state too many times already, had seen him bleeding out in that alley and half-mad on that rooftop. It was Emilio’s turn, he thought, to see Teddy that way instead. It was his turn to be the one who did something instead of the one who so desperately needed saving. He could do that. That was the only thing a hunter could ever be good for.

“Could tie you down and cut it out,” he said, “but I don’t think it’d do anything. Seen this before. Someone I know went out, touched one of those crystals. Shifted into something else, with these things growing out of her. Still her, though.” And thank God for that. It was hard enough to see Nora that way, but it would have been harder if her mind had been lost along with her body. If she were someone else, if the only way to save her had been to hurt her… 

There were some things that he wasn’t capable of. He knew that, had always known that. There were areas in which Emilio was completely unable to succeed. He wouldn’t have been able to hurt Nora to save her any more than he’d been able to bring himself to put a knife in his daughter’s hand, wouldn’t have been able to cut that crystal out of Teddy’s back while they screamed at him to stop any more than he would have been able to lock Flora in the same crypt his mother had locked him in with a half-rabid vampire and a stake. You had to hurt people to keep them safe, sometimes, and Emilio was bad at it. It was what made him such a failure of a father, what made him such a shitty friend. He couldn’t look beyond that moment of hurt to see the good that would come from it. His mother had chastised him for it endlessly, had told him in no uncertain terms what a disappointment it made him. 

Teddy’s voice pulled him back into the moment, and he almost wished it hadn’t. It wasn’t a particularly fun moment to be in, after all, wasn’t really something he wanted. The boat felt as unsteady beneath his feet as it always did, though there was something worse about it now. Like it wasn’t just the boat that was unsteady anymore, like it wasn’t just the ocean waves building up a sense of nausea in his gut. Teddy was talking about dying, and Emilio wanted to shake them until they stopped without knowing why. 

“It’s not going to kill you,” he snapped. “My face isn’t going to be the last thing you see, jackass. You’ll still outlive me.” Demons lived longer than slayers; people lived longer than slayers. Emilio’s life expectancy had existed on a negative scale since the day he was born, had moved even farther in that direction the day the massacre made him the last Cortez left to kill. Emilio would figure out what was causing this, and he’d cure Teddy just as much as he’d cure Nora. Teddy would go back to being a perpetual thorn in his side until the next time one of them found the other half dead somewhere around town. 

But they had to do something until then. Didn’t they? He couldn’t leave Teddy like this, couldn’t walk away when it was clear that the other was in pain. He’d never been good at that, but he’d never been good at this, either. He was a knife, but he wasn’t a scalpel. He wasn’t the kind of tool anyone would ever use to help instead of hurt. 

Rubbing a hand across his face, he thought of Nora. “You been, uh… wanting to go to the mines? My friend, the one this shit happened to, that’s where she’s at. Might help or something. I don’t know.” Did being in the mines help Nora, or did she just like it? She’d sworn the mines saved her life, but she’d also claimed to have died and been reborn there. The fact that Emilio had seen her since and gotten no sense of her being undead coupled with the fact that he was pretty sure bugbears couldn’t turn undead meant that she’d been wrong about that, so she might have been wrong about the mines being helpful, too. But it was the only thing Emilio had right now, the only help he could offer. It had to be better than nothing. 

—

Careful but uneven breaths kept the demon sitting upright, just barely. Teddy's eyes screwed shut just about as soon as they had been sat. Though whether it was from the pain or the inability to look Emilio in the eye right then, well who could say? Shame shouldn't have been in the demon's vocabulary. Leviathan had taught its ward to be proud of what they were. Had imparted a good copy of its massive ego into the child. Yet that old sour song kept creeping on in. The worst of times, in the strangest of places. Teddy was well acquainted with it however. The bitter bile that rose up in the back of their throat. Caustic and dehydrating. Leaving a desert of guilt in its wake. 

This wasn't Emilio's job. And he was doing it. Hell, it was technically the opposite. Slayers were juuuuuust about as close as demons got to their own brand of hunters. Undead and unholy seemed to go hand in hand. A case could be made for rangers or wardens, given certain similarities, but it always seemed to be slayers who ended up doing the most damage to the ‘damned’. This wasn't Emilio's job, but the dumbass had decided that it was anyway. A knight in shining goddamn armor. Now complete with anecdotal evidence of how Teddy's demise would not be any time soon. 

Ted's introspection skills were rapidly waning. A winnowing effort that grew more tedious the longer they tried to stay (more or less) vertical. They couldn't parse between the excitement drawn out by their usual volatile volley of insults, and the subtle brightness that peeked through the grief and heaviness of all of this, that came with just being near him. That came with the fact that Emilio “Number One Boat Hater” Cortez had come here on his own, on purpose. Even if it had been to chew them out for being a dick online. Man, they really had been one, huh? If it was enough to properly piss off the detective, it was a feat. It was easy to get on the man's nerves (that's why it was fun) but the way he'd stormed into the boat? That was new. 

"Nah, no–not– not dying." They agreed, but it didn't make it sound any less like a eulogy. "Your friend still acted like themself?" Incredulous. A half barked laugh wheezed out, and Teddy finally opened their eyes again. "Stronger than me then." Pause for breath, gripping their knees, holding tight to sensation that wasn't the burning thrum of their joints aching for a shift. "Feel like I'm losing my mind. Like someone else is steering. Which could get– could get pretty icky. Don’t know if it–" They winced as a particularly big inhale brought a new stabbing sensation in their ribs alongside the air.  “–is affecting me differently, cause y’know– I’m …different.” 

Emilio was entrusted with Gabagool. Emilio must have known what he was. What Leviathan was. What Teddy was. Hell, right about then they must have looked straight out of a horror movie. Sitting there half drenched in sweat as glowing purple veins pulsed unnaturally beneath graying skin. It wasn't like they were hiding it very well anymore. But this wasn't the extent of it all. Ted had a few 'trusted' folks in their past, who heard about their origin. Had seen the more subtle changes and said they’d stay. But the full story always ended the same. It was too much. They were too much. 

No one really ever stuck around once they got to know the Teddy that wasn't just a chameleon, changing personalities like clothes to better fit in. 

"I– yeah. The mines. Whatever it is– really wants me to go down there. Never even– didn’t know there were mines under this town before–" It was something. It was help. Or maybe just confirmation of something they wanted to hear. It wanted them to hear. "You didn't have to do all this, Cortez. You don't–" another flash of that guilt, that shame, welled up in the demon's eyes. "You don't owe me anything. I give you shit about it but– I didn't save you just to rack up hero points." Teddy leaned back, eyes darting away from the hunter. "I only ever did what I did cause–" Well. Might not be another chance to say it. “Well it started just to mess with the big grumpy guy but–but then I wanted to get to know you. There was something different about you, I dunno.” They shook their head. Let it droop, let strands of stringy damp hair dangle just in front of their eyes. 

"Cause you don't let yourself see the good in you. You always act like you're the reason the world is going to end, or that it already has and no one else has noticed. Like you’re waiting on them to figure it out. You think you are broken or something. Beyond repair, no redemption. But that's dumb. Despite everything, you– you are surprisingly, infuriatingly, unfortunately, pretty good. Amazing even. You still take all those steps every day despite–" the demon sighed, realizing how far into this strange preachy monologue they'd gotten. "Tomorrow exists, the sun might even shine, and people are better for having you around to share it with, Emilio Cortez" Their voice was still strained, still inhuman. But it carried a sincerity that most of Ted's interactions with Emilio lacked. Right until it faded in a brief wave of realization and self-doubt.

"God I almost bit you that's so fucking embarrassing. I haven't bitten anyone since– uhhg. Nevermind. Ignore me, I'm literally going crazy." The broken laugh made its return along with the aloof sort of intonation they usually talked with. Masked up. Walls back in reconstruction. The demon covered their face with one hand, the other too busy clinging to the couch like they were going to fall off at any moment. Leave it to the last few moments of mental stability to make a chatterbox out of a demon. 

—

It was hard, seeing them like this. And Emilio told himself it was because it would have been hard seeing anyone like this, but it felt especially unnatural with Teddy. They were usually so infuriatingly vibrant, cheery even when the world was ending around them. He’d seen flashes of other things before — grief in that alley when they left the baukbear to die in order to save the slayer instead, concern on that rooftop when Emilio insisted that they ought to leave him up there even though he knew that they both knew what would happen if they did — but it always faded quickly. It was shoved down beneath the surface, cast aside in a way that was almost familiar. 

His mother had always wanted him to do the same, hadn’t she? Not to replace his grief with optimism — she would have hated him all the more if he’d done that — but to stop feeling it at all. It was another place where he’d fallen short in the presence of his siblings, who were so much better at smoothing themselves into flawless blades that were there to cut and impale and do little else. Edgar never had days where he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed despite the fact that it was morning. Rosa never struggled to sit still when it was necessary. Neither of them had any trouble smoothing their emotions away, but Emilio did. Emilio always did. Now, too.

He was looking at Teddy, and he could feel the concern etched into his features. He could feel the way his hands trembled as he steadied them against the couch, and they weren’t supposed to. What good was a blade if it shook when you held it? What good was a man who only knew how to hurt? He was too much of one and not enough of the other, an endless cycle of wrong, wrong, wrong. He wasn’t what Teddy needed because he wasn’t what anyone needed, but he was still the only one here. 

“A little different,” he admitted with a shrug, though with Nora it was often hard to tell. “She’s the strongest person I know, I think. But you’re not far behind. This part was hard for her, too. The changing. She said…” He trailed off for a moment, his throat dry. He didn’t like thinking about this, liked talking about it even less. But he thought it might be what Teddy needed and he wanted, for once, to get something right. Maybe it didn’t matter much with Teddy — Emilio had sunk this dynamic before it started, was pretty sure there was no chance at bringing it back to anything resembling friendly at this point — but it might feel good, anyway. “She said it felt like dying. I think that’s where you’re at now. You feel like you’re dying, but you aren’t. You’re just changing. And it’ll be temporary, whatever it is, because I’m going to fix it.” There was no other option. He was going to fix Nora, and so he was going to fix Teddy, too. Two for one special, buy one get one. 

Hands carefully pressing against Teddy’s skin looking for injury paused when they spoke again. Cause I’m different. Emilio knew, of course. But Teddy didn’t know that he knew. It was an unspoken thing, a quiet secret. Emilio knew what Teddy was, but Teddy hadn’t told him. Emilio knew what Teddy was, but he never said it aloud. It didn’t seem fair, after all, to know what someone was without them admitting to it. Maybe it was only fair, considering he’d never explicitly told Teddy that he was a slayer, either, but it still felt like an open secret. Something he shouldn’t say, something he should let them come to him about if they ever chose to. Was that what this was? It was hard to tell. “Everybody’s different. But I don’t think this shit wants to kill you. Can’t get you to bring other people to the mines if you’re dead, can it?” Maybe not the most comforting piece of logic he could have offered, but he liked to think it made enough sense to keep them from insisting that they were going to die. The empty ache in his chest still hadn’t quite recovered from Nora making the same claims. 

“Maybe we should get you there. To the mines.” He could text Nora a head’s up, make sure the two of them looked out for each other. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but he was pretty confident they wouldn’t hurt each other for the same reason why he was pretty sure Teddy wasn’t dying — whatever was affecting them wanted bodies to do its bidding, and dead bodies just couldn’t do the trick. They’d be safe in the mines until someone smarter than Emilio figured out how to save them from this, until a better hero than him came along. 

Teddy was rambling now, pulling him from his thoughts. He snorted as they insisted he didn’t have to save them, ready to remind him of all the times they’d pulled his sorry ass out of the fire despite knowing they’d definitely hold the confession against him later, but… Then they got going. They started talking about him, about how they’d saved him because the world was better with him in it. And Emilio felt a little sick, somehow. Like he was the one lying on the couch and burning up a fever, like the world was spinning around him. His mouth felt dry, his throat tight, and none of this was right. None of this was true. They had it wrong, the fever that was driving them to delirium frying their mind to the extent that they looked at him and thought they saw something good. It was probably the same kind of shit that had had their eyes darting to dark corners of the room before, he figured, the same affliction that made them feel as though someone else was in their head. Fevers made you see all kinds of things that weren’t there. They made you believe all sorts of lies.

“There is no good in me, Jones,” he said quietly, picking up the glass of water and bringing it up to their lips again just to keep them from arguing. “Honest. And what’s broken in me isn’t the kind of thing that gets fixed.” Even if he weren’t unfixable, you didn’t waste tools on a broken blade when buying a new one was easier. Emilio would fall one day, and he wouldn’t get up. It would be one day soon, because he’d been living on borrowed time for years now, had been a martyr in the making ever since his father set an example that saw him raised with a story instead of a man in that corner of his life. Emilio would die the same way slayers always died — bloody and alone. And another would take his place. Not a Cortez — that name would die with him now, and maybe that was a good thing. But some other slayer with some other trauma, a stake in one hand and a wound in the other, would pick up exactly where he left off. 

Teddy was right about one thing, of course — the sun would continue to rise, and the world would continue to spin. But the pieces of the cosmos that mattered the most to him were already gone and, soon enough, he’d be gone with them. It was how the world was supposed to go. It wasn’t a bad thing. There was nothing tragic about a broken knife, nothing terrible about a man doing his job. Emilio’s job was only ever to die. He supposed it wasn’t Teddy’s fault that they hadn’t known it all the while.

Clearing his throat, he clung to the next thing Teddy said instead, happy for a change in subject. “You wouldn’t have been the first person to bite me, you know. Kind of deal with a lot of that. At least you wouldn’t try drinking my blood. Can’t recommend it. Been told it’s not very tasty.” He almost added another anecdote, something about teething slayers and how a gummy mouth gnawing at your fingers was far worse than a vampire trying to make a snack of you, but the words got caught in his throat. It was too much. It was always too much.

—

Fingertips searched along Teddy's skin, bringing heat and a gentle buzz wherever they touched. The demon could only sit and stare as the man refused to accept anything even close to a compliment. In a way Teddy knew he would. In the way they'd come to expect. Emilio was fire. Bright, hot, burning and destructive but healing and nurturing too. He was the warmth of a hearth, where the embers only ever saw the forest it turned to ash. Trees still grew, the fire remained in place, blaming itself for the logs thrown its way. The very ones necessary to consume to keep the house warm. 

Emilio was fire and Teddy was water. 

Ever shifting, always so calm on the surface, taking the shape of whatever saw fit to carry it for a while. Eventually though, every drop returns to the sea. Teddy too, whenever they'd been used up. Whenever their vessel grew tired of the added weight and decided it wasn't worth lugging around. Water was fleeting. Destructive in its own right, but in ways people never quite saw at first. Deceptive in its draw to drowning. 

Their elemental opposite stared them down. Brought respite to their lips when they had ceased to speak. Teddy felt themself almost rise to meet every new touch, every instance where flame met wave and a sizzle of contact made their mind falter just a little more. It had to be the fever. This couldn't be anything. It never would. Fire and water just didn't mix. Evidenced by each clash, each explosive endeavor where they tried to be friendly and something was always wrong. 

The man swore he was the issue. The sickness gripping Teddy's mind like a vice wasn't strong enough to pull that memory from their vault. It didn't mean much though, coming from the same tongue who denied the good he brought the world. Denied every casted commendation. Teddy saw just how prideful the man could be, and how at odds with his self-view those moments stood out. Made them wonder, made them ache over who must have beaten these ideals of selfless devotion to self destruction into him. Emilio saw himself as a tool. An inevitable end to things that needed to be taken care of, and of himself. The slayer saw himself as just that. Never grafting personhood alongside the weapon he'd been forged into. 

Words weren't going to make him see that. Even if they could, it wouldn't be Teddy's that brought revelation. The demon didn't get to make that kind of impact on people. The wounds they left were always superficial. Gone with the waves, sand on the shore. When Teddy's tide was gone, Emilio would find someone else to not let care about him. 

Ted's gaze found the floor again. Finding it strangely and suddenly painful to look the detective in the eye. A common theme in the last few minutes. Brief glances were all they dared spare, lest the twisting in their stomach knot up to something worse. It was hard to tell what these feelings meant. If they'd still be here come tomorrow. If it would even matter, if this crystal mess couldn't be dealt with. But Emilio said he'd find a way to fix it and… and Teddy believed him. 

"Make a habit of getting bit then?" Humor was a fine bouy to keep afloat on. "Didn't take you as that kind of fun type Cortez, but you've surprised me before." 

—

Teddy probably wouldn’t remember any of this when the fever broke. They wouldn’t recall the way Emilio’s fingers danced over their skin, wouldn’t remember how they paused in places without reason, wouldn’t remember how he was efficient in his observations, but gentle too. When the heat left them and the gem problem was solved (because in spite of his pessimism, Emilio had to believe that that was a when rather than an if, lest he lose whatever he had left of his mind), this would probably feel more like a dream than anything else. And it was better that way, Emilio thought. It was better that way for both of them.

Teddy didn’t need to remember this. It was clear that they already had delusions about who Emilio was, clear that they already fell for lies he’d never meant to tell. Teddy thought Emilio was a good man, was decent, was a person, and Emilio had no idea where they’d gotten the notion. Had it been in that alley, when he’d nearly killed himself trying to right a wrong that was his fault to begin with? On that rooftop, when the world was too loud and he’d gone quiet to compensate? He couldn’t take back whatever it was, but he thought he might be able to turn Teddy back to the right direction if he had an answer.

And yet, he had no desire to ask. He should, he knew. He should correct them, should tell them they were wrong and make sure they weren’t hinging any hopes to someone who wouldn’t be able to pull them in any direction worth going, but the thought of actually doing so made his stomach churn. Teddy thought he was a good man and Teddy was wrong, maybe wronger than anyone had ever been about anything, and Emilio should tell them that but he didn’t. And maybe that was proof of it, the wrongness. A good man would tell someone if they were basing so much on such a falsity. It was a funny contradiction. A good man would correct Teddy, but a good man wouldn’t have to. 

They’d figure it out on their own eventually, anyway. It was hard not to, with something that big. Emilio wasn’t just a bad person — he wasn’t a person at all. The lie Teddy had allowed themself to believe was too big to stay afloat for long. And Emilio ached with the thought of it, for some reason. He hated knowing that it was a matter of time before that boat sank, before the truth burned through everything else and moments like this one, quiet and amicable, became impossible. When the fever broke, the lie would break with it. How terrible he was to dread that happening. How utterly irredeemable.

Teddy was looking away now, gaze locked on the floor, on the couch, on the table, on anything that wasn’t Emilio. And that, too, felt like a contradiction. There was relief in not being seen, but he missed having them look at him. He missed the way their eyes had been bearing into him before, like they saw something there worth seeing. Maybe the spell had broken even while the fever raged on; maybe this refusal to look at him was the action of someone who realized their mistake and was embarrassed by it. It shouldn’t have hurt as badly as it did.

“Most of the people I fight use biting as a go-to,” he replied with a huff, keeping his voice flat. He was good at that. He’d never quite been able to grasp his mother’s lessons on not feeling, had been a complete disappointment in that regard, but he’d gotten good at not letting them show. At least… most of them. His anger remained a forest fire that tended to rage far beyond his control. But the rest of it? The ever-present grief, the echoing emptiness, the quiet desperation? He liked to think he was much better at hiding that. “But I’m all kinds of fun types. Maybe you’d know that if you weren’t so busy sticking rocks into your back.” 

He shifted, pulling Teddy’s arm across his shoulder. “All right, get up. Come on. We’re going to the mines. You can hang out there for a while. Bet you think that sounds real fun.”

—

Mountains rose and crested between them. Maybe they always would. But that night, Emilio Cortez and Teddy Jones shared space, and so much more. Each in turn had seen a preview, a glimpse at the innerworkings. The darkest spaces they could go to. Emilio on death's door desperately wanting to be let in, and Teddy cracking jokes at their own expense as they sat on the stoop nearby. The demon knew death wasn’t really an option for them. That threshold would always be one step away. And eventually anyone and everyone they cared about save their father would cross it. If Emilio had his way, it’d be so much sooner than Teddy would like. A thought that sat and stewed amongst everything else swirling in their mind. 

The crystal, it seemed, had become contented. Happy. The thought of Teddy being brought to the mines was enough to settle down. It shifted into a more complacent mindframe. Post outburst it barely serenaded the demon with thoughts of leaving or worse, of ripping and rending flesh from bone. Ted didn’t care for much that separated them from their own actions. Didn’t like the idea of not being wholly responsible for each and every moment. A sense of control was ebbing back in and they clung to it like a vine growing up a dangerous cliff. Clung to the sensations that were real, were here, that were filling them to the brim with feelings they feared more than any possible negative ones. It was far easier to be annoyed with Emilio Cortez, than whatever this was. Whatever made Teddy want to keep stealing glances into those big brown eyes. 

It was the fever.

Had to be. Even if it wasn’t, this wasn’t something the man was on the same page with. Hell they were in entirely different books. Though no expectations had ever been placed, the detective came right when needed. Was exactly what the demon needed. And wasn’t he always? A sign to keep their shit together with experiments like Joy. To speak a little more plainly to handsome detectives who asked nicely about things before they ever got heated. To keep Teddy out of a fight between a bear and a hound that no one would ever win or walk away from. To help find an otter trapper and take them down. Every turn. Exactly as prescribed. Emilio could be appreciated from afar. That’d be fine. It was fine. 

“Yeah-yeah maybe. Maybe we explore that theory, Cortez. Once you get this all fixed up.” The fingertips were gone, but he was slinging their arm over his shoulder and Teddy was close in a new way. The fever was a fine cover for how their heart rate jumped. For the blood rushing through their ears. For the voice that did still coo gently, no longer wanting to destroy the man, but to lure him down. Keep him in the mines with them. Would that be so bad? He could get a crystal makeover and whoever else was down there could have a fuckin party. “For now let’s– let’s go.” 

The boat felt so empty as they left it. A husk, not a home. Almost like home was starting to be something else. Something just barely starting to bloom. 

[angstyandromanticwriting]

Lyutsifer Safin X Reader Compromising Prompt

!TW: Word ‘kill’, mention of suicide, swearing, mention of captivity and handcuffs, word ‘shot’/mention of being shot, implied jealousy/mention of jealousy, brief strangulation, violence (mild?), threat!

“What’s in it for me if I help you?” You asked, and Safin would think about it for a moment, stepping closer to you. “Will you kill me, anyway?” You guessed, and Safin chuckled, shaking his head as he gently lifted your face with his fingers gently gripping your chin.

“I’m not going to kill you, Y/n,” he responded, “you’re going to kill yourself; you won’t be able to take the guilt of helping me kill millions of people.”

You scowled at him, annoyed by his ego. “Bite me!” You snapped, and he smirked.

Safin leaned down a little bit, his face inches from your’s. “Wanna bet that I will?” Safin replied, placing his hand on your cheek.

“Cut it out!” You yelled, shaking your head to get him to remove his hand. “Don’t you realise what you’re doing? That your bullshit has a body count?” You questioned, and he groaned, irritated. “What do you even want from all of this?” You inquired, genuinely curious.

Safin smiled softly, his eyes briefly meeting your’s. “Well - I suppose - I want to rule,” he answered thoughtfully, “but not only do I need to the be the only one here, I also need a Queen. I want you to become addicted to me, to crave me - let me be your drug.”

You scoffed, not believing he could be so oblivious. “Why would I agree to that?” You uttered, and he scowled.

“Because I broke my rules for you,” he reminded you sternly, “and you need to respect that!”

“How can I when you’re keeping me locked up in here? You won’t even take off the handcuffs!” You cried, and Safin sighed heavily.

“So - If I set you free - just once - will you finally respect me and help me?” Safin asked, and you nodded quickly, desperate. Safin hesitantly removed the handcuffs, and you would rub each of your wrists, breathing a sigh of relief.

𖧷☭𖤍

You had gotten shot in a scuffle with the MI6 agents; you had been trying to protect Safin and Emily, but they’d taken Emily as you did. “Stay calm and breathe!” Safin instructed, and you shook your head quickly, panicking.

“I can’t breathe, I can’t-”

“You have to!” Safin shouted, and you whined, trying to breathe deeply. You became desperate to get away, and you pushed him away from you. “It’s me!” Safin cried, trying to stabilise you. “It’s me! Calm down, Y/n, please!” Safin practically pleaded, and you nodded, trying to stay calm as you stared into his dark greyish blue eyes. Once he’d fixed you up, he thought back to the moment you saw James, and how you stared at him. “That agent,” he began, “you still love him, don’t you? Why?”

You would be amazed; you never thought he’d be jealous of James. “Wait a minute - Are you jealous?” You questioned, and Safin grimaced, shocking you as he tightly closed his hand around your neck.

You gasped, struggling to breathe and whining. “You think you can just run that pretty mouth of your’s whenever you want?” Safin retorted, and you felt that your eyes were beginning to fill with tears.

“S-Safin, stop!” You cried weakly, fighting to remove his hand.

“Call me jealous one more time, see what happens!” Safin hissed, before he withdrew his hand, and you fought for breath, coughing violently. “You need to prove your loyalty to me,” he uttered, and you nervously looked up at him.

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed this prompt! ❤️

[weallpartyatybcpatricksfuneral]

So I have a. Habit of making my current obsession into an au with an older obsession and so I present---

Mandela Falls au:

Mandela Catalogue × Gravity Falls

(Tws for the mandela catalogue in general include mentions of suicide, distorted imagery, and well its a horror series so expect some pretty spooky things)

My thoughts for this au so far are:

Stanley Pines gets a call in 1983, from an unnamed friend of his twin brother, Stanford.

Stanford Pines was found dead in his bedroom. Cause of death: suicide

After hearing the news, he rushes to Gravity Falls, a small country town in Mandela County, Oregon. For 30 years, Stan lives in his brother's house and makes a living in the town, all while having suspicions over his brother's death.

Something did not feel quite right to him about the (supposed) suicide, but he had no evidence to support his theories of foul play and so he waited. And waited. And waited.

30 years go by and his niece and nephew come to stay for the summer

And that's when the first broadcast is released.

Mandela County and the surrounding areas are put on a lockdown, due to a new, hidden threat: the alternates. A race of doppelganger type creatures that use psychological warfare to convince their victims to kill themselves.

Dipper, armed with a journal from a mysterious author, and his sister Mabel, who doesn't want to be stuck in their house all day long, start to investigate their old house after reading a passage about a creature that is eerily similar to the alternates on the TV, who stalked the author until his untimely disappearance...

---

So essentially Ford and Stan would take the places of Mark and Cesar, respectively, but dipper and Mabel won't be taking Adam and Jonah's places because I'm thinking of keeping Adam and Jonah as separate characters to enter the plot.

[where-pain-is-so-pretty]

December Project 09

- The Boy In The Black Dress

Pairing: Joonas x Reader

Category: Angst/Hurt/Comfort

TW: Angst, Self-Hatred, Homophobia, implied/referenced Suicidal Thoughts, Bullying

Word Count: 1847

Request:

"Hello again this can be for the December thing. Joonas reaction to you ( partner) staring to quite drastically change how they look due to people not believing that they are a good fit. The partner being the complete opposite of joonas in style and how they are???? You can either make it into fluff/angst/smut. What ever you feel like ❤❤"

Requester: @biancathecool

Note: I loved the request so much you have no idea! I rewrote the story about 3x and originally didn’t want to make it into something so personal, it just happened 😔❤️‍🩹

I’m actually a bit sorry for hijacking your request to cope with some of my own struggles, but I needed that 🥺😅

Hope you still enjoy! 💜

~ male reader ~

Tears streamed down your face as you scrolled through the comment section of your boyfriend's latest post. Only days ago you had decided to make your relationship public. You had been with him for almost a year now. And he was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

The photo he posted showed the two of you, his arms wrapped around you as he kissed your cheek. You stood in front of him, happily smiling wearing a plain black dress, phone in hand to take a photo of your reflection. It was shot a few months back, in the dressing room before their show, you two wore matching make-up and nail polish. The caption simply read: "My love 🖤"

There was nothing wrong with the photo itself, but with you, at least that was what people made you believe. You were a guy, wearing a dress, make-up, and nail polish. And for some reason, it was okay that Joonas and the guys wore make-up and nail polish themselves, but it was not for their partners, at least not if they were male. It should not be that much of a problem in 2022, but it was. The comments under his post went from insults, like "faggots" to "He should have chosen a girl instead". And these were nothing compared to the disturbing headlines going through the finish rainbow press ever since you made it official. "BLIND CHANNEL GUITARIST GAY?!" "WHO IS THE GUY IN A DRESS NEXT TO BAND HOTTIE JOONAS PORKO" "WAS JOONAS PORKO FORCED INTO THIS RELATIONSHIP?"

Each comment and caption increased your self-hatred and your wish to simply eraser yourself. The post was supposed to take the weight off both of your shoulders and end the hide-and-seek. Show the world how much you loved each other. But sadly most fans did not take it well and the press made a big fuss about it to generate more clicks and views. Of course, none of this came unexpectedly and you two were prepared to get some hate and backlash, but you thought it would not hurt that much.

And maybe today was the right moment to put the black dresses down forever and start dressing like a decent man. To show those haters, that you were a good match for Joonas. You wiped away a single tear as you threw your black dress into the closet. …………………………………………………………………………

This was about a month ago, and oh you wished you were over it! You still got insulting messages or even death threats almost daily. And Joonas had people swiping into his DMs telling him to break up with you. There were weird edits on TikTok, rumors spreading over Twitter, people leaking personal information about you, and so on.

On the outside you remained strong, not wanting to make Joonas worry or feel bad or even guilty for coming out and making your relationship public. In the past weeks, he had found you more than once in bed, crying your eyes out and you were sure he was already sick of your whining.

Honestly, you were incredibly proud of him for taking the step and not making a big deal out of it, and you were even prouder to be on his side. His bandmates were supportive as well, they also were the reason why you two started dating in the first place, but was another story to tell. You were glad for him having such great friends and for you they had already become a family as well. And with these guys having your back you almost could ignore all the hate being thrown at you. That was until one day some girl attacked you at a bar, spilling her drink over you when you and Joonas were out for date night. That's when it simply got too much for you.

All this bullying made you relive your darkest memories from your childhood and school days. You had always dressed more femininely and loved to play dress up with your mother's clothes and make-up. You had been expelled more than once for violating the school's dress code. While growing up various people told you that boys were not allowed to wear dresses and skirts and that make-up and nail polish was for girls. You had been bullied over your bold outfit choices, and you could not count the times you were beaten up or had your clothes ripped and ruined.

You thought you had left these memories behind the day you moved out of your parent's house, but all this recent hate had opened up old wounds which you thought had been healed years ago.

Now you found yourself in front of your closet, searching for an outfit. You held back tears when your fingers brushed against the soft fabric of your newest dress, the one you were supposed to wear for the award show tomorrow night. Instead, you took out a suit jacket and a white buttoned-up shirt, hanging them next to Joonas' outfit. You had not worn a dress or skirt in weeks now, hoping people would stop commenting about your looks, sexuality, and relationship, but it did help, in fact, it made you feel vulnerable because now you felt like walking around without your armor.

"What's that?" Joonas appeared behind you, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts, blond curls still wet from the shower he just took. "My outfit for tomorrow." You said, trying your best to sound happy while you searched for a matching pair of pants for the jacket. "What happened to the black dress we bought?" He sounded slightly concerned lifting his brows. Him mentioning the dress brought new tears to your eyes and you swallowed heavily, trying to get rid of the knot in your throat. You two had found the dress in your favorite vintage store, the day after you two had made your relationship official. Originally you had bought it to provocate people and show them an imaginary middle finger, but now you felt more like burning it, together with your whole existence. "I felt like it wouldn't fit the occasion…" You mumbled the answer into the closet, not wanting to face him and hoping he would just stop to ask questions. "Sweetheart, are you okay?" He stepped closer, lightly touching your shoulder. You did not react, still pretending to search for the pair of pants, although you had already found it. "Y/N, please look at me!" Reluctantly you turned around to him, looking at his feet instead of meeting his gaze, hiding your tears. Joonas cupped your cheeks, forcing you to lift your head, his blue eyes full of worry when they locked with yours. It broke your heart to see him like this and you wished you could pull yourself together, but a sob escaped from your throat, new tears following seconds later. Joonas brushed a few of them away, before pulling you into a tight hug. You could not hold back longer, all the negative thoughts now crashing down on you like a tidal wave. You collapsed in Joonas arms, sobbing into his naked chest, barely noticing that he carried you over to your shared bed and pulled you into his lap. His hands drew soothing circles on your back as he patiently waited for you to calm down.

You held on to him, the contact of his warm soft skin slowly helping you to get back to reality, as you buried your face in his chest. Soon your sobs turn into even breathing again. He kissed the top of your hair, causing you to slightly lift your head. His eyes were gentle on you but you could see the worry in them. And you could not help but feel pathetic for your breakdown, you should not have let it out on him. Joonas shifted and sat up against the headboard of the bed, his hands not leaving your back as he loosened the embrace to examine your face better. "Wanna talk about it?" His voice was soft, still, you could feel it vibrate in his chest. You swallow heavily, trying to find your words. "I just can't do this anymore…" He looked down at you in shock, realizing what you had just said. "Are you about to break up with me?!", the sadness in his voice almost made you tear up again. "No…I…I don't know, wouldn't you be better off without me?" you stammered out. "Hell no! It's still about what these dumb people said about us online, isn't it?" You nodded silently, not capable of answering without starting to sob again. You did not want to break up with him, but you felt you were the main reason for all his troubles and he deserved so much better than this. Joonas took both of your hands in his. "Y/N! Is that also the reason why you changed your clothing style?" He lightly squeezed your hands. "I…I didn't want to embarrass you. I didn't want to cause any more trouble." You looked down at your intertwined fingers, exhaling sharply. "You are not causing any trouble! Fuck those people and their opinions! I love you for who you are and I don't want you to change for these idiots!", one of his hands found your cheek, wiping away another tear with his thumb. "I saw how happy you were the day we bought the dress for the gala, and in these clothes, you don't look happy." He went on, gesturing to the clothes you were wearing as well as to the jacket and shirt hanging next to his. "But…" you wanted to disagree again, telling him that the press would have their eyes on you two tomorrow night, and you did not want his band's success to be overshadowed by another wave of weird headlines about his sexuality and relationship. "No buts! We are going to prove them all wrong tomorrow!"

Your vision was still blurred from tears when Joonas leaned in for a kiss, to prevent you from talking back again. Lost in the kiss, your eyes closed and you finally felt yourself relax. One last tear rolled down your cheek as you realized how much you loved him.

He broke the kiss after a while, his hand still lingering on your cheek.

"Do you think I could pull one off?" he suddenly broke the silence.

"A dress? Absolutely!", you told him instantly. Joonas was the type of guy who could wear almost anything without looking ridiculous; although Joel strongly disagreed with that.

"Can I borrow one for tomorrow?" He had a sly grin on his lips and you needed a second to understand what he had just suggested. His question made you smile, probably for the first time in a week or so, and you could feel happiness spark in your chest. "I love you so damn much!" Was all you managed to say before you pulled him in for another, more passionate kiss.

"I love you more…And now let's get you out of these clothes…"