#which i left untreated for too long

[theinternetisaweboflies]

so far my favorite part of persona 5 is when ann tries to get rid of kamoshida by telling him that she has appendicitis but she's been too busy to go to the hospital and he's such a bad phys ed teacher that he doesn't realize she would be dead

[fairestwriting]

Hi! Could I request Diasomnia with a reader who got injured but is too stubborn to let them help? Idk if you do platonic works but I would prefer this was. Romantic is fine tho :) have a nice day

i do write platonic relationships yeah! i wrote this one thinking of the reader more like their close friend but if someone wants to interpret it as a crush thing i think it could work too. i hope you have a nice day too <3

𐙚 Malleus Draconia

Malleus has enough common sense to not lose his mind over little scrapes, even though he’d honestly still want you to put a bandaid over it. But having mentioned that before, and receiving your very firm response that it was fine, he got the message that you might not like being fussed over.

So he mostly doesn’t voice these thoughts. He doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, and he does know certain things really are so minor that it won’t make that much of a difference if you try to care for it or not. Even in a human body, which is still something that’s sort of a mystery to him.

But, for that precise reason of him not fully understanding the human healing process, if anything bleeds, or looks noticeably red, he refuses to leave you alone about it. You can still see some hesitancy in his eyes, not wanting to overstep any boundaries, but it’s outweighed by worry. ”What if it gets infected, though? Are you sure you don’t want to at least bandage it?” He’s heard infections can get pretty serious, even if they’re very minor at first.

If all other arguments fail to reach you, he’ll ask if you could take care of it for his sake. Because he really hates to see you hurt, so could you just consider making sure it’ll heal faster? He’ll say that even over something like a nastier than average hand burn from cooking, and so honestly too — it’ll really put your stubbornness to test, regardless of how strong it is.

𐙚 Lilia Vanrouge

His knowledge on human injuries is, frankly, a bit all over the place. It’s hard to remember what’s serious and what isn’t when he’s been around for so long, and gotten so many injuries of his own. Sometimes he unconsciously projects his own body’s recovery ability onto others.

Now, that doesn’t mean he’ll be any sort of neglectful of your injuries, though. On the contrary, he insists on personally patching you up every time he catches a glimpse of one. ”Hmm, you don’t want to bother with it? That’s okay. I’ll do it for you, just hold still.” He’s smiling as he talks, not even giving you a chance to properly say no before he’s already taking a closer look at the injury. His grip is too strong for you to pull away, even if it isn’t forceful at all…

When it comes to things like scratches, it’s more of a playful show of affection. He does know it won’t kill you, it doesn’t really need that bandaid and certainly not the little kiss he places over it after— He just wants to show that he cares for you. If you find it flustering that’s just a bonus. And yes, he will still do it even if you’re just friends, just in a more parental sort of way, unless you tell him it genuinely makes you uncomfortable.

If it’s more serious, the sort of thing that could actually cause an infection if not taken care of properly, he’s not as lighthearted. He does still joke a little about how you don’t have to worry about a thing because he’s here to care for you, but mostly to keep the mood light, especially if it looks like something he’d have to take you to the nurse to properly care for. Lilia wonders why you’re so stubborn about the whole thing, maybe it’s a matter of not wanting to seem weak? He hopes you’ll feel more at ease with him, eventually.

𐙚 Silver

To nobody’s surprise, he’ll likely be the most easygoing and knowledgeable of the bunch. There’s no species difference factor at play here, he’s very aware of what can be dangerous if left untreated and what can’t.

He does point out injuries and ask about them if he notices them, no matter how small, but it’s more of an expression of caring about you in general rather than specifically worrying that the bad scrape you got from tripping could make you deathly ill. It won’t really alarm him when you tell him it’s not a big deal, or it doesn’t even hurt. He’ll at most remind you to keep it away from dirt and then drop the subject.

Silver is very quick to recognize what could truly be potentially dangerous, though. Lilia taught him the basics of first aid when he was pretty young, and he later went on to study it in more depth as part of his training. The way he notices and points out things might even come off strange, because he’s usually so laid back in every aspect. Before you can dismiss him he’s already listing all the reasons why your “little scratch” is looking a bit off putting.

Still, he doesn’t want to pressure you, so it might create a bit of a dilemma in his mind when you keep insisting it’s fine. ”I’m being serious here, I’m not trying to annoy you. It’s not supposed to be this red. If you don’t want to see the nurse, at least let me help.” He’ll argue, and he can get pretty firm, but he’ll never cross the line into outright scolding you. You sound honestly careless to him, but he feels like there must be a reason for you to feel that way, and he doesn’t want to pry.

𐙚 Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is about as educated in the topic as Silver, and the difference between how your body recovers from injuries versus his is pretty minimal compared to people like Malleus or Lilia. But. Well. It is Sebek. You can’t really expect him to just let it go, if he likes you enough to consider you at least a friend. He’s just not someone who can be any sort of laid back with those he cares about.

Even though he knows so much about the theory, he does actually get worried if you hurt yourself. Yes, he’s aware that just because the cut you got from peeling some fruit bled a little bit, it doesn’t mean it’s going to get infected if you don’t clean and bandage it within an hour. But every body can be so different, even within the same (or similar) species! Besides, he’s read that poor immune system function can contribute to wounds getting easily infected— And how is he supposed to tell if your immune system is doing perfectly fine, if you’re so guarded even with small injuries. You’d try to hide it if you were feeling sick too, woldn’t you?

Even though he’s the youngest in this group, he’s the one who really comes off like some kind of… nagging parent or overprotective older sibling. Hell, he might even be younger than you, but he’s still pulling bandaids and antiseptic seemingly out of nowhere and scolding you for not taking care of yourself. “You were already careless enough to get hurt, and now you want to just leave it like that?!” He balks at your insistence that it wasn’t a big deal, he didn’t have to do anything or even worry, you’ve dealt with things like that before— Yeah, he’s not listening to any of that.

He might end up overstepping your boundaries a bit in the process, but he really does mean well. It just makes him anxious to see you dismissing your own safety like that, and that makes it hard to try to understand your perspective, whatever it is. You know him well enough to be aware that all the fussing just happens because he cares, and not because he’s genuinely trying to make you feel bad for getting hurt and not wanting to accept help with patching yourself up. If it does end up upsetting you, he’ll be understanding if you bring it up later.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[sky-scribbles]

Just remembered how, when I was first levelling up Gale, I thought, 'huh, he's got fairly decent Consitution for a wizard. Useful for gameplay purposes, of course, but I wonder if there's a narrative explanation?'

And not an hour or two of play later, learned that the orb - if left untreated too long - causes him constant pain, muscle spasms and disorientation. Gale and Tara did not immediately figure out how to treat his condition, which meant that he likely spent weeks or months in that state - and of course, whenever the orb acts up, he goes through it again. He probably endures it constantly through the end of act 1, after his treatment stops working.

Constitution, of course, is that the stat that represents ability to focus while being hurt. Endurance even after physical distress. Pain tolerance.

Yeah. I think there's a narrative explanation.

[h0neybane]

MAGIKEY (TWST AU) BY @quartztwst !!

im going to PASS AWAAAAYYYYY IM SOSO TIRED. BUT ITS DONE. but anyway, more on evelyn...

Evelyn [Magikey User "Luna Luceat"]

“Hurry up, I'm gonna pass out."

Evelyn is an 18 year old girl and has been a magical girl for 4 years, since she was 14. In her magical girl form, she comes off as mysterious and aloof... but she's really just thinking about going home. She has occasionally breached the top 10 of Magical popularity rankings, but she mostly tries to keep to herself, vanishing immediately after her work is done. Oftentimes, she finished things so quick that the public is unaware.

A quiet, sleepy girl who is jaded from her years as a magical girl.

Status:

Mental/Emotional Strength: ★★★★☆ (She's hard to crack since she's used to her job, but her constant exhaustion can become a vulnerability if left untreated for too long.)

Physical Strength: ★★★☆☆ (She's moderately strong as her staff is fairly hefty, and she does swing with it sometimes.)

Stamina: ★★☆☆☆ (This girl is tired as FUCK LMFAO. She uses her little floating platform to move because she doesn't want to actually run.)

Strategy: ★★★★★ (Evelyn is very calculated with her moves as her goal is to get the job done as fast as possible to go home and SLEEP.)

Strengths: Evelyn is very experienced and keeps a close eye on all of her teammates, making sure they can operate effectively. She is especially strong during the nighttime in a full moon.

Weaknesses: Evelyn is constantly exhausted because she only works during the nighttime as that is when her powers are most effective. A daytime attack would leave her extremely vulnerable.

Evelyn lives with her little brother in their childhood home. Their parents are usually overseas on business trips, so they don't see them in person very often. Evelyn's brother is aware that she works during the night time, but doesn't know that she's a magical girl.

Evelyn grew up very sheltered, being homeschooled by tutors hired by her parents. She was very lonely and she didn't really speak to her brother. She accumulated a massive amount of hobbies to pass time, one of those being gazing at the moon on her balcony, wishing for something to change.

Her wish was granted the night of her 14th birthday, with her magikey falling into her hands after gazing at the moon for the nth time. She eagerly and naively accepted, thinking that this was everything she hoped for.

Unfortunately, she soon came to realize that the nature of her abilities forced her to be sleep deprived if she wanted to do anything much outside of being a magical girl. After her second year of being a magical girl, her enthusiasm fully died, and now she just tries to get by until she can go home. (she still really likes her outfit though, LOL)

After a shift as a magical girl, Evelyn will usually rush inside a convience store, grab snacks, pay and bolt home. She hates staying for overtime even by 5 minutes... though, she's willing to grab some stuff for her brother if he asks for it.

Evelyn is technically enrolled in theMagikey Training School, but she rarely shows up to classes. If she does, she's usually sleeping in them, though she doesn't mind a chance to show off once in a while. The instructors tend to leave her alone whenever this happens, as they're aware of how hard she works.

She does try to be nice towards her juniors though. She fetches them treats once in a while.

uncharted lore territory!! i didnt watch madoka magica or anything so idk if this fits in at all so im warning in advance lol. this is adjacent to evelyn's ACTUAL lore within the original canon twst, which is why it's here. i will make a separate post explaining further later on

Evelyn has a secret. One that isn't her being a magical girl. She has not told crowley, nor any of her magical colleagues, and she does not intend to— at least not for now. However, this secret does leave her susceptible to... negative feelings.

tag list!

@taruruchi @honeyedpearcrushh @boopshoops @scint1llat3

@h2llish @viperbunnies @buttholesparkles @oya-oya-okay @cheerleaderman

@qsoap @angelwishess @jadelover69 @skriblee-ksk @lychee-face

[newkatzkafe2023]

Monkeys meeting a reader who can see into the future like Bruno Madrigal, as is constantly left isolated from others.

I mean come on nobody sees these as warnings to try and AVOID?

We don't talk about (Y/n)😶

(Lmk Wukong) What ostracized for being able to see bad news in the future?! AS IF?! he wished he had met you a long time ago. He would have been able to avoid so much of life's bullsh*t, but here you are, nervous isolated and very, very, very, very kind. Wukong eventually fell in love with you because of your care for others dispite your emotional burnout and isolation. You started to feel the same to finally feeling safe enough to trust and love again.

(HIB Wukong) Now this is the first time he's ever been curious along with his son Luier. Learning that somewhere out there their is a beautiful but very isolated female monkey with the power to see the future. That makes Wukong wonder a few things and went to find you to get some answers. When you guys do met you the first thing he saw was burnout and sadness, Wukong immediately felt sympathy for your depression and mood. He and the children worked to lift your Spirits reminding you that life is beautiful, as Wukong kissed your face.

(NR Wukong) Ohhhhh Mystery Green eyed monkey lady, how exciting that is for him. Although he would be curious to know why such a beautiful jade siren, is all alone by herself in the night. That's when he learns about your gift you can see pretty far into the future, it probably explains why you keep slipping away from him so easily. Wukong decided to get tricky and he soon had you where he wanted you, right in his arms wooing you all night long.

(MKR Wukong) Oh jeez good luck pushing him away, Wukong has not been deterred by some nasty rumors before and he ain't gonna start now. He met you all alone in your cottage because he heard you can look into the future, but what he wasn't expecting was a pretty little monkey. Wukong was suddenly besides himself having such pretty eyes on him, and got extra stubborn to leave you be. Soon after finally helping him he made sure to bring you along too, holding your hand leading the way.

(Netflix Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhh Man this...this is a very deep untreated cut, Wukong knows about isolation, being ostracized, and rejected better then any mortal and immortal ever😥 Deep down despite his bravado and loud mouth he wouldn't wish that kind of loneliness upon even his enemies. Which is why he would go out of his way to break you out of your shell, so what of you can see the future all he sees is his future with you😉

(BMW Wukong) Your isolation would not deter him what so ever, you were the most beautiful creature he's ever seen. Wukong would do anything to get you to spend time with and date him, but you were extremely pessimistic about his chances for a good time with you. Though with the way you were receiving neck kisses from Wukong, that wouldn't take long to change your mind.

(Destined one) Wow you....you were beautiful and what's more is that you have an intriguing little gift. Though the Destined one immediately felt a large amount of depression from you, especially your isolation and pessimism. He definitely took it upon himself to give support and care to you, As he takes it upon himself to show you the bright sides of life bring a small smile to you.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG🐀

[evilminji]

You know, i just had the mental image of a sith in star wars finding a ritual or something to summon a ghost and end up summoning danny, while in space. The sith is struggling to try and convince this otherworldly being to help them do evil and their just staring out the nearest viewport in awe about the amount of new space things to discover.

How does it feel? To have such a big and wrinkly brain? So full of smartness?? :O

That? Is Brilliant~☆

It could be a Krell situation. Stress of the war got to be too much. Or a Dooku situation, discontent fed and fed until it burst. Like a silently festering wound, left unseen and untreated.

Regardless of HOW it happened?

The lil shit steals from Madame Nu. Like a CRAZY PERSON.

Rightfully terrified that she will Kick Their Ass into the stratosphere for touching HER archives, they head straight for the "Sith Stuff". What does it DO? What RESEARCH did they do? HA! You ask too much of them! There is no PLAN here!

Their brain has gone to SOUP with the Dark Side. It's all wild mood swings and impulse decisions! Research and careful precautions takes PATIENCE. Planning. The calm and rationality they just THREW OUT AN AIR LOCK.

They are high on the initial high of the Dark Side that few, if any, Dark Siders ever SURVIVE. That TEST of their character and control, as they stand in the storm they have unleashed upon themselves.

You want POWER?

Okay.

HAVE IT.

Like trying to swallow a waterfall. Drink the ocean, one cup at a time. Endless, yes, but equally so? It is BRINE. Not the life giving waters of the Light. The more you drink... the deeper your thirst. The faster you die. Can you control yourself? Suffer it? For that's all that's left... suffering. Thirst. Endless, Endless Thirst.

Water water everywhere, and it shall grind your bones to DUST when next you drink.

Welcome to the Dark Side! Was it WORTH it?

But, ah, our Fallen's brain is muddled soup. They think so. They are not themselves. May never be again. That's why it's a tragedy. Because it both IS and ISN'T their hands that takes that Sith artifact. Because who they WERE would be appalled.

They don't even know what they are grabbing, do they? No one does. Seized from the ruins of a laboratory. Long dead horrors, painted upon the walls. A Sith's obsession with the afterlife of his people. Ghosts. Beings that were, supposedly, DIFFERENT then Force Ghosts.

The notes speak of "green". A vision or experience in his youth. Brief. The world tearing open. A gate to somewhere "green". The Sith believed it was the afterlife. Felt death inside the gate. Described as "peaceful, joyful, driven, and eternal", he was ultimately unable to full articulate the full scope of what he believed he saw.

Now his last device is in the hands of a fallen jedi.

Who is going to USE it.

P A N I C

Obviously, the Temple gaurds chase the crazy mofo as hard as they can. Without a DOUBT, every master on hand and available, is roped in by Madame Nu to FOLLOW that psychopath, before he unleashs FORCE KNOWS WHAT, directly over CORUSCANT AIRSPACE!!! The SENATE. THE TEMPLE?! HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF LIVES!?

Fallen McFuckface? Clearly did not think this through (nooooo, REALLY? Everyone is SHOCKED! Shocked, they tell you!), panics. Which is, unfortunately, the LAST thing they wanted them to do. FUCK™.

Masters and Knights are LITERALLY cutting through the hull, kicking down the door, they can survive limited Space exposure and honestly? We're not THAT high yet! Let's see you jump to hyperspace with HOLES in your ship! (Fucking, DONT GIVE THEM IDEAS! They're insane, remember?!) (Shit. You're right.)

When?

.......Green...~¤~

Hilariously? The Sith can plan all they want. But you can NEVER plan for stupid. Make a plan idiot proof, as they say, and the Universe will just build a better idiot. All that carefully curated misery, hatred, and suffering? That DISPAIR. The webs upon webs of Darkness carefully spread across the Senate district? Choking the Temple?

Mmmmm, tasty kindling. Good fuel! Sith Artifact LIKEY~!

It RIPS and TEARS. A screaming MAW IN THE SKY. A black hole for Dark Side energy that takes and takes and TAKES. Dropping people all across the district below. KILLING the particularly irredeemably monstrous. After all~!

The Force? Is in all things.

You DON'T have to be Force Sensitive, to Fall. Just a BASTARD. Just cruel and selfish, hateful and needlessly petty. All the things that would sour and turn a Jedi? Can sour and turn YOU too. Just slower, quiter, and with less explosions. But! It still wraps the Dark around your bones. Feeds it into your blood.

Kills you, when it all gets ripped away.

One must wonder.... how many Senators die instantly? And how many die in the days to come? Slowly, painfully, bed-bound as they reflect on who they had become? The fall out will be SPECTACULAR.

The Jedi's fault? How? How is their being stretched so thin they could not mount a proper response THEIR fault? How is YOUR corruption, THEIR fault? Please note all the individuals who were FINE! Baffled, but FINE!

But perhaps you are correct.

Perhaps, for the safety of ALL, we should MOVE our main Temple.

We've done it before. We can do it again. Or do you not want to HAVE that conversation? Hmmm? No, no, we wouldn't want to be a THREAT to you FINE people! You HONORABLE senators! Please, continue to yell and make demands! SEE HOW FAR IT GETS YOU!

Would they normally send someone more diplomatic? Yes. But STRANGELY all of THEM had weird SITH Darkness on them that got violently ripped off! They are in the halls of healing. Unconscious. Because getting Sith shit, that was hooked into your brain, violently ripped out? Not GREAT! 0 out of 10 healers recommend!

Fuuuuck you! Yes, I bite! And be warned, my Race is VENOMOUS! *aggravated Jedi Senior Padawan noises, hissing*

Danny? Got pulled out in FULL regalia. Just FULL on Ice and Stars. Full "I am the Cosmos beholding itself, I am the dead child you could not save.", beyond vanta-black armor and cape like a window to ever shifting stars, crown of aurora borealis playing off the eternal ice, all upon a youngling that seems forever floating... frozen in time. By death.

Was it sacrifice? Natural? Is it just a shape the spirit takes? IS he a youngling?

They both can and can not feel him.

Both can and can not SEE him.

He is so young....

A child king, hsmiles with such shared grief, when they look upon that too large crown, upon a head that should never have been forced to wear it. Like a child, forced to wear his father's mantle too soon. Is that what happened? Was it something worse? They can not bring themselves to ask.

Not when he is so... so DELIGHTED?

Playing with the younglings. In AWE of each and everyone of them. The things they learned each day. "Who wants to go flying?" "Try to float me!" "I believe in you." Oh, he BASKS in their Light like a desperate thing. Showers them with praise and attention, gentle corrections and undivided attention.

He is empathic. Alive and dead. Fascinated by the stars.

And of course... King™.

No, no, he's not interested in your Senate. Doesn't like um, Doesn't trust um. The vibes are RANCID. But I mean... if you REALLY need an army so bad? Since it seems you guys are pushing yourself WAY outside of your normal duties? Like, he doesn't know, uhhh farmers burning crops to prevent starvation? Something like that.

Just? Since you hate it? But are worried people will die? Or those Clone guys (Sweet! Clones! Ellie is gonna be HYPED.) Are gonna die? He could, you know... fix that for you?

JUST you.

We're gonna have to get it in writing. And they won't do anything BUT stop the robots and help people. They don't actually answer to you. Soooo.....?

.......are you offering us an army? (Yeah. An endless skeleton army. Lead by the greatest Generals to have ever died.).....(they get bored.)

And SUDDENLY? Oh look! The Galactic suffering levels? Just fucking DROPPED. All those SENTIENT Clone soldiers! Dying in vain, in agony, ALONE? Not happening! Skeletons can get blasted apart, fade, reassemble, and march RIGHT BACK OUT! This is GREAT fun!

And even better? Unlike with Pariah? THIS time they march? King PHANTOM is sending them to HELP people! Woooooo! Destroy metal crunchy things! Help clean up rubble! Build a house! Rescue trapped people from rubble! Tireless effort! Honor and service! Thanks for the FREE METAL! *rips apart your robots*

There are no anti-ecto technologies here! The BEST they have is Force users! Which? Ha ha ha! GOOD LUCK. That's what? One? TWO? Of you?? To HOW MANY of us??? *cackles in bone army*

And! If they happen upon OTHER things they don't like? Whoop! Should'a thought of that! Before being a DICK! King Phantom says slavery is ILLEGAL. And we, the FORMER slave army of King Pariah, have Millennium Long ISSUES with that! (Easy to remove that chip, when you can reach THROUGH a person. Here you Slaver FUCK. YOU have it! In fact! Have ALL of them. From each and every slave.)

Anikin LOVES his new Bone friends. They are WONDERFUL. Him n them? Bonded. He's made them all speech boards. They're plotting the gruesome end of the Hutt cartel together. He's showing them the holo of his wedding. They're making Super Advanced Chip scan-.....

W....Why is his scanner going off? There should be nothing near by for it to recognize. The only thing HERE is him, his Bone Buddies, and Rex for supervision.... *mounting horror as he slowly waves the device around* *beep*

R-Rex?

...

......

The Clones? De-chipped in like... two days. There are too many skeletons to NOT have them be able to just? *reach in, feel for the Non-Clone bit, grab it, pull out* didn't even need surgery! But boy, oh, boy! Is Anikin upset. That sure is a Slave chip! Hey, Kamino! Have a Chosen One and his Bones Bros! Some Clones in orbit with Real Big Guns.

And Palatine? Is? PISSED.

His whole ass Empire is dissolving in his hands. The Sith Master Plan! Going up in smoke! Walls are closing in! All because of ONE(1) glowing BRAT.

Wanna bet he goes after him... with LIGHTNING? In human form, of course. Danny. Who DIED to electricity. Who has, throughout ALL of this? Been chilling in the Jedi temple, finally... FINALLY! Unwinding. Putting down the stress on his shoulders. Healing from his childhood. Cuddling cute babies and laying on the grass to nap, listen to the waterfall. Be at PEACE, surrounded by the Light of the Jedi.

Danny, who has been making friends. Enjoying the archives. For once in his stressful, STRESSFUL life? Letting OTHER PEOPLE deal with it. Playing with alien puppies and weird not-cats. Trying new foods! Seeing about adopting some droids that Tucker might get on with. Sorry "buying" some droids. (As though those Restraining Bolts aren't coming off the SECOND they droids are in his hands.)

It's been cool. Relaxing. Great for his mental health.

They have folks LITERALLY called Mind Healers here! Jazz would love it!

So obviously Sith face ruins it. Hurts his friends and blasts him with LIGHTNING. The kids are crying and terrified. This was supposed to be some sort of "learn about how the Republic works" day trip to the Senate! He was helping chaperone. They are being so, SO brave. Staying together. Trying to get their teacher out of harms ways.

He? Is? PISSED.

How DARE you. How FUCKING DARE YOU?! A fight between adults? Not his Reality, not his business. Clockwork drilled that into his head. He CAN'T keep the Multiverse together. Fight every fight for everyone, save everything. People have free will. Have to decide for THEMSELVES. Choose to do the right thing.

It doesn't mean SHIT if they don't save themselves. Wont last, in the end, because they won't have LEARNED a damn thing. He GETS that! But KIDS?! Ooooh ho ho! He DRAWS THE LINE AT KIDS! At shocking the SHIT out of him with LIGHTNING!

You want to poke the sleeping titan 'til it wakes up?

Well congrats!

YOU HAVE HIS ATTENTION NOW!

*inhale*

*Wail*

Palpatine goes through the HOLE where about fifteen walls USED to be. Half of Coruscant physically hears it and EVERYONE with even a TOUCH of Force sensitivity FEELS it. Across the entire planet and up into orbit.

Dying screams and the crackle of electricity. Regret. Fear. The desperate need to protect, in your final moment. Pain and pressure, the cool slide of Death come to take it all away. You were just fourteen. You were just fourteen! You died screaming, you came back screaming, in the place between... will you ever stop screaming?

You are the Galaxy, the Cosmos, the INFINITE. You are just a child.

How many souls died screaming?

Can't you hear ALL OF THEM?

Pissed or not, kids come first. Fuuuuuck that guy. Danny picks up the teacher, the kids, and back to the Temple they go. Teacher survives. Kids cling. Senate gets itself into a snit over the "unprovoked attack". But the thing is? A whole CLASS of Baby Jedi say the Chancellor is the Sith Lord. Look too spooked to be lying. Their teacher, too WOUNDED for this to be a prank.

The Jedi close rank.

Palpatine tries to use the Clones.

You know... the De-chipped by their Bone Bros Clones.

Commander Fox? Gets to finally, FINALLY(!!!) live out his long time fantasy... of shooting the fucker. Slug thrower. Tragically, fails to kill him. But the attempt WAS enthusiastic! We applaud his attempt. Commander Fox gets to join Danny in the Gardens, under a Crechelings pile, staring at the stain glass ceiling and Not Thinking Or Having Responsibilities.

Huh.... kid's right. This IS nice.

Fox enjoys being a climb-able lump for the Crechelings. Welcome to the club, my dude.

The other Jedi? THEY can figure it out. The Temple is literally unassailable. If needs be, his army can PICK IT UP AND MOVE IT. Danny is Vibin. Have a fruit. You hear about Skywalker? Making pretty good ground on his whole "one man and massive bone army campaign against Slavery" thing. Missed the whole.... his buddy was an asshole reveal. Apparently reception is spotty. *shrugs*

His wife's nice though! *various married Jedi agree, Obi-Wan continues to sulk because: "REALLY?! You didn't even INVITE ME!? My own Padawan! To his WEDDING! Anikin how COULD YO-!?"*

[oswaldthatendswald]

In no particular order, here's a list of Donquixote Rocinante headcanons that I've written into or at least gestured at in pretty much everything I write about him. Full disclosure, these are very self-indulgent and have little to no backing in canon (cw: his canon backstory and long-term unhealthy coping habits, look I write a lot of angst you know what you're getting into):

He enjoys reading in his free time, especially very light-hearted fiction, and has a soft spot for Terrible Romance Novels

He really enjoys doing his makeup, and finds it soothing. Surprisingly, he's very good at precise lines (he can do a killer winged eyeliner), but ends up favouring styles he can put on quickly and touch up easily.

There are pretty gnarly scars left on his wrists from when he was tied up by the angry mob as a kid. When he gets stressed out, he tends to rub at them or, subconsciously, try to cover them up.

He also has chronic pain from injuries received during that time that went largely untreated until Sengoku took him in.

He takes his coffee with no cream and so much sugar. Just an intolerable amount of sugar. Except when he's upset and blaming himself for something, in which case he takes it without sugar (which no one noticed until Law). He's aware that he does this, but it's not so much an active choice as a compulsion to self-punish.

He enjoys music and will sing to himself while absorbed in a task, but will also probably use his Devil Fruit to make sure no one notices.

Autistic, but he'd never notice because Sengoku and Law both are too. Anything he does notice, he just assumes is the result of all the childhood trauma. (I don't think the one piece world has very much psychiatry yet, but I suspect they have identified PTSD-- similar to how we started talking about shell shock after WW1-- and enough work has been done on that to diagnose Rocinante).

His eye colour shifts dramatically depending on the light. It looks anywhere from deep brown to bright red.

His dislike of bread isn't due to intolerance, but again because of his Horrible Childhood-- eating mouldy bread gave him food poisoning on enough occasions to permanently put him off it and he flat out refuses to ever try it again.

He's a very tactile person and is secretly very glad that Law has grown to enjoy hugs over the years.

His clumsiness is caused by god-awful proprioception, but he's learned to compensate for it with very specifically trained Observation Haki. The effort this takes is too much for him to bother using it all the time, so he just bites the bullet and accepts the clumsiness.

He picked up smoking in order to fit in better with his peers and is kind of annoyed with his younger self because of how much money he has to spend on cigarettes now.

Sengoku's white goat was Rocinante's originally. The goat's name is Holden (metatextually, the goat is named Holden because that's the protagonist of The Expanse series of novels, and his ship is the Rocinante. Credit for this joke goes to my girlfriend).

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hallo Miss Raven! (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

I have a question, I don't know if this has already been addressed, but in your latest post you mentioned counselors appointed by the department of education, and we know that the OB students have been getting counseling. Is it mentioned in the game that the other students who witnessed the OB have also been getting counseling?

I thought that maybe those who witnessed the OBs might be a bit traumatized from seeing their friends in such a situation, so shouldn't they be getting counseling too?

[Referencing this post!]

There is no mention of the non-OB boys receiving counseling or therapy (whether explicit or implied). Yes, the students caught up in the OB incidents may be traumatized or shaken by them, but NRC students are very prideful and most likely would not seek that support on their own. They are mostly emotionally constipated and unwilling to be vulnerable, even with those they care about. This is partly why we later get several students breaking down sobbing (finally releasing all of their pent-up or previously unexpressed emotions) in book 7. Therapy and counseling are services appear to be offered at NRC but are not necessarily always used.

I’d think that it might get to a point where counseling is just… impractical to administer and manage at NRC?? Because after the events of book 7, the entire school population of 800+ may need therapy—but are NRC’s counselors prepared to take on this sudden workload? Not to mention that therapy isn’t like a pill you take that poofs away the symptoms. You won’t see results unless you meaningfully engage with it for the long term, which can be very emotionally taxing and time consuming. Students could theoretically quit or just not show up to appointments either.

Perhaps the school could have made students go to counseling for their own good (like counting their attendance at counseling for a grade or having counselors go to the students one by one). However, therapy is not very effective for those who don’t want to attend or insist that they don’t need help. Additionally, the culture of NRC (including the curriculum and instructors involved) prioritizes and promotes independence. It would contradict the spirit of the school to force counseling upon essentially all of its student body. (The OB boys may be forced into it, but they have less grounds to protest because they may literally endanger themselves and their peers again if left unmonitored or untreated.)

Now, should those that experienced an OB incident also get counseling, or at least a mental health check after the fact? Absolutely. But do they? Probably not.

[unboundprompts]

any tips on how to write somebody who is suffering from hypothermia/ frostbite?

How to Write About Hypothermia/Frostbite

-> Mayoclinic: Hypothermia

-> Mayoclinc: Frostbite (has images that may be triggering)

-> Nationwide Children's: Frostbite

Hypothermia is caused by long exposure to cold weather or water. Your body begins to lose heat faster than it can be produced. Left untreated, hypothermia can lead to complete failure of your heart and respiratory system and eventually to death.

Symptoms of Hypothermia:

Shivering

Slurred speech or mumbling

Slow, shallow breathing

Weak pulse

Clumsiness or lack of coordination

Drowsiness or very low energy

Confusion or memory loss

Loss of consciousness

Bright red, cold skin (in infants)

Someone with hypothermia usually isn't aware of their condition because the symptoms often begin gradually. Also, the confused thinking associated with hypothermia prevents self-awareness. The confused thinking can also lead to risk-taking behavior.

What to do if a Doctor is not an Option:

Removing wet clothing

Protecting the affected area from further cold

Not walking on frostbitten feet

Reducing pain with a pain reliever

Frostbite is damage to the skin caused by extreme cold. It happens when the skin, nerves, and blood vessels below the top layer of the skin freeze. Rain, snow, water, and wind can cause the skin to cool faster, which may lead to frostbite.

Early signs of frostbite:

Skin that is paler than normal, cold, and hard

Pain, tingling, burning, numbness, or aching

Swelling

Blisters in the first 24 hours

Later signs of frostbite (if not treated):

Dark purple or black skin color

No feeling or pain in that part of the body

Frostbite is most common on the fingers, toes, nose, ears, cheeks and chin. 

Writing Prompts about Hypothermia and Frostbite:

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

She was so cold she could barely think. The feeling in her feet and hands were lost so long ago that she could hardly bring herself to continue walking.

His breathing was so shallow that he was lightheaded. He couldn't catch his breath, couldn't keep his eyes open. He wanted nothing more than to just lay down.

Their fingers and toes were tingling, a burning sensation that was slowly spreading.

She looked at her fingers, her skin an ugly purple shade.

Blisters coated his skin, the confusion he felt was too much for him to grasp the gravity of the situation.

They couldn't stop shivering, their entire body felt like it was burning.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hello, if it's alright, could I request a Toby, Slenderman, EJ, and Jane the Killer x reader (separately) in which the reader (in most cases) doesn't know that they're injured until they look down at the injury? Not exactly to the extent of cipa, but more like they don't feel the pain or even notice it until they look down and see the injury.

If not that's ok too. Either way, have a good day!

Various crps x injured!reader who doesnt realize theyre injured

idk if theres a term for it but this happens to me sometimes </3 the amount of times id randomly find bruises or cuts and start feeling the pain as soon as a acknowledge the injury hisshiss characters: ticci toby, slenderman, jane the killer, eyeless jack notes: reader is gn cws: mentions of injuries

SLENDERMAN

he almost has a sixth sense when it comes to you, so its likely that he knows youre hurt before you do... though to be fair, with how long it takes you to notice that isnt... very impressive/lh

he does not wait for you to actually notice the damage, he goes into caregiver mode- taking you to clean the wound if its open and wrapping it if needed

does not have any answers for why you dont notice the pain at first but thats mostly because hes not skilled or educated in that sort of thing- you can only learn so much by observing others from far away and living in the woods

TICCI TOBY

you both passively lean into one another to keep track of the others wounds; you dont notice yours for a while, and neither does toby- though your scenarios arent exactly the same, you help each other take care of any nasty wounds that could get nastier if left untreated

in a way he finds himself relating to you on some level, because even temporarily you dont feel pain- you both may end up talking about your experiences

that being said, the two of you may not take cuts and bruises as seriously as you should because "well i can still function/i didnt notice the pain before- so its fine!" mentality, its... not the best way to go about things...

EYELESS JACK

headcanon that he was into medical stuff before getting all goopy and cannibalistic, so even if he doesnt immediately know whats going on he can cook up some theories-

that being said hes going to get onto you for leaving wounds uncleaned and uncovered, and will make it a habit to check over you every now and then to make sure youre not hurt... looks in places that are hard to look (back, neck, stuff like that)

always keeps a pack of Band-Aids/bandages on him at all times for general use, keeps other stuff at his place for worse injuries- disinfectants and needles to stich things up- hopefully it wont ever have to come to that, though

JANE THE KILLER

if youre the type to joke about your wounds to make the atmosphere lighter, its not going to work on jane... not because shes worried (okay... she is....) but because shes just.. not amused by that sort of humor

like jack, shes going to be stern and make sure youre taking better care of yourself and taking the time to look over yourself, as well as teaching you basic first aid if you've decided to skip over that

does not try to control you, shes not going to stop you from getting into a fight or doing something a little risky (within reason, if the situation seems too.. intense... itd be different), because even despite your little... situation... she has enough trust in you not to get mortally wounded

[hoonmura]

Chapter 1.

One year since the apocalypse started, one year since everything had fallen apart. Y/N was barely surviving all alone, her crew leaving her to die. But something happened, something she never thought would happen. A group of seven boys found her. Saving her life.

Word count: 7k

Pairing: enemy!Ni-ki x Y/N

Genre: dystopian, apocalypse, survival, horror if you use a magnifying glass, enemies to lovers, ANGST

Status: on going/12-02-25

Warnings: Everything that comes with an apocalypse. (Do let me know if there's anything else tho <3)

Disclaimer: this is a fanfic based on imagination, nothing of this is real. If you feel uncomfortable with reading something like that, please leave. If any part of the stories is similar to a book, then it's either inspired (in which, credits will be given) or just coincidence since there's no much things to write about an apocalypse.

Author's note: this is my first ever long fanfic, so please be patient with me 😭🙏

Credits: There's a fanfic in Tumblr that's called Safe and Sound, mine wasn't inspired by this one, it was inspired by a wattpad story! But since the two stories are almost the same the credits go the the creator of Safe and sound! <3

The world had ended long before Y/N realized she was truly alone. The apocalypse had turned friends into enemies, trust into a liability, and survival into a constant battle. Betrayal had left her with nothing but wounds—both the kind that bled and the kind that didn’t.

She had been part of a group once. She fought alongside them, protected them, and believed they would do the same. But when supplies ran low and desperation grew thick in the air, they turned on her.

"You're slowing us down," they had said, as if her exhaustion, her injuries, her loyalty meant nothing. They left her behind, bleeding and defenseless against the hordes of undead roaming the streets.

For days, Y/N barely survived, her body pushed beyond its limits. Infection threatened to take hold of her untreated wounds, and hunger gnawed at her insides like a beast. She had accepted that this might be the end.

Then they found her.

A group of seven boys. Armed, well-fed, wary.

And they hated her.

Jungwon stood at the front of the group, his dark eyes filled with calculation as he stared down at the half-conscious girl on the pavement.

"She’s injured," Jake observed, crouching beside her to check her wounds.

"And she’s a liability," Ni-ki snapped, gripping his knife tightly. His jaw was clenched in irritation. "We don’t need dead weight."

"She’s barely alive," Heeseung muttered, arms crossed. "She won’t last long anyway."

"Should we just leave her?" Sunghoon asked, though there was no sympathy in his tone—just a practical coldness that had been necessary for survival.

Y/N forced her eyes open. "P-Please..." Her voice was weak, hoarse from days of dehydration. "I can... I can help..."

Jay scoffed, gripping his rifle. "Help? You can’t even stand."

"You should be grateful we haven’t shot you yet," Sunoo muttered, sharp-eyed as he studied her. He was the smart one, always thinking ahead. "For all we know, you could be working for another group. You could turn on us."

The words struck deeper than any wound. She had already been betrayed—how could they think she would do the same?

But they didn’t trust her. And why should they?

Jungwon sighed. "Jake, can you patch her up enough so she doesn’t die in the next hour?"

Jake hesitated before nodding. "I’ll do what I can."

Ni-ki let out an annoyed sigh. "Fine. But the second she becomes a problem, I’m ending this."

Staying with the boys was no easy task. They were cold, distant, and saw her as nothing more than a burden.

Ni-ki, especially, made it known that he didn’t want her around.

"You should just leave," he told her one night as they rested in an abandoned gas station. "We don’t need you slowing us down."

She didn’t argue. She was too exhausted.

But she wasn’t weak.

She forced herself to heal. She learned to keep up with them. She fought, scavenged, and proved she wasn’t just some helpless girl.

Yet, they still treated her like an outsider.

Jungwon never let her make decisions. Heeseung ignored her input on routes. Jay barely spoke to her unless it was about weapons. Sunghoon was indifferent. Sunoo was suspicious. Jake was the only one who treated her with some decency.

And Ni-ki? He openly despised her.

"Why do you even bother?" he sneered one morning as she sharpened a knife. "No matter how much you try, you’ll never really be part of us."

Y/N met his glare with tired eyes. "I don’t need to be part of you. I just need to survive."

He scoffed. "Good luck with that."

Everything changed the night the horde came.

They had set up camp in an abandoned school, thinking they were safe. They weren’t.

The moans of the undead filled the air, the sound of shuffling bodies growing closer.

"We need to move—now!" Jungwon ordered, grabbing his weapon.

The group scrambled, fighting off the zombies that broke through the windows. Y/N didn’t hesitate—she grabbed her knife and fought alongside them.

Jay fired shot after shot, Sunghoon took down the infected with brutal efficiency, and Heeseung led them through the chaos.

Then Y/N saw it.

A zombie lunging at Ni-ki from behind.

Without thinking, she threw herself forward, tackling it to the ground before it could sink its teeth into him. The creature snarled beneath her, snapping its rotten jaws, but she plunged her knife into its skull.

Silence.

Ni-ki stared at her, eyes wide, breath uneven.

She had saved him.

After that night, things changed.

Ni-ki avoided her—but not out of hatred. He didn’t know how to look at her anymore.

Jake started talking to her more. "That was impressive," he admitted as he cleaned a wound on her arm. "Not many people would’ve done that."

"She still could’ve let him die," Jay muttered, but there was less bite in his words.

Y/N just shrugged. "I don’t leave people behind."

The words hit deeper than she intended.

Jungwon, ever the leader, nodded. "Maybe we misjudged you."

Maybe. But trust was hard-earned.

Over time, the tension faded.

Heeseung started asking for her input on maps. Sunoo actually smiled at her once. Sunghoon trained with her. Jay let her handle a gun.

And Ni-ki?

He still avoided her sometimes, but he no longer looked at her with pure hatred. One night, as they sat by the fire, he finally spoke.

"You’re not as useless as I thought," he muttered.

Y/N smirked. "Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

They still had a long way to go. The world was still broken, and danger lurked in every shadow.

But for the first time in a long time, Y/N wasn’t alone.

And maybe—just maybe—she had found a place to belong.

Hunting had become easier now that the group had started trusting Y/N—at least, most of them. She was walking beside Heeseung, scanning the abandoned city outskirts for any movement. They needed food, and after days of barely scraping by, they couldn’t afford to come back empty-handed.

"You’re quieter than usual," Heeseung noted, adjusting the strap of his rifle.

Y/N shrugged. "Just thinking."

"About?"

She hesitated. "Ni-ki. He still doesn’t trust me, does he?"

Heeseung exhaled through his nose, glancing at her. "It’s not about you."

Y/N frowned. "Then what is it?"

For a while, he didn’t answer. The only sound was the wind moving through the abandoned streets, the distant echoes of the dead somewhere far off. Then, in a quiet voice, Heeseung finally said, "A few months ago, we found someone. A guy. He was injured, desperate—just like you."

Y/N’s stomach tightened. "What happened?"

Heeseung’s grip on his gun tightened. "We took him in. Ni-ki didn’t trust him from the start, but the rest of us thought he deserved a chance." He sighed, his expression dark. "He proved Ni-ki right."

Y/N swallowed.

"He killed someone we loved," Heeseung continued, his voice heavy with something deeper than anger—grief. "Ni-ki’s best friend. The one person he trusted most in this world. He used her as a threat, he wanted our supplies but even when we gave him what he wanted... He killed her Infront of us."

Y/N’s breath hitched. No wonder Ni-ki looked at her like she was a threat. No wonder he flinched whenever she got too close.

"I’m not him," she whispered.

"I know," Heeseung said, looking at her. "But Ni-ki doesn’t. Not yet."

Y/N didn’t say anything else. She just looked ahead, gripping the knife at her side a little tighter.

That night, as Y/N stood outside on watch duty, she heard a voice.

"Well, well. Didn’t expect to see a new face here."

She turned sharply, hand flying to her knife. A man stood near the trees, partially hidden in the shadows. He was grinning.

"Who are you?" Y/N demanded.

The man tilted his head. "No one important. But I was once." His smirk widened. "You’re in their little group now, huh? Let me guess—Ni-ki hates you?"

Her blood ran cold.

He chuckled. "Figures. He never did trust easy. But you? You remind me of myself."

"I’m nothing like you."

He raised his hands. "Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night." His eyes darkened. "Tell them I said hello."

Then he disappeared into the woods.

Y/N stood frozen, heart pounding.

A twig snapped behind her. She turned—Ni-ki stood there, eyes wild with panic. He had heard everything.

"Ni-ki—"

But before she could say anything, he bolted.

By the time they realized Ni-ki was gone, it was too late.

"He went after him," Jay growled, gripping his gun.

"Alone?" Jungwon’s expression was hard, unreadable. "Damn it."

"We need to go," Jake said. "Now."

They ran. Through the woods, past the old buildings, tracking Ni-ki’s footprints in the dirt.

Then they found it.

A body—no, a man. Crawling. His leg was covered in blood, a bullet wound in his thigh. He was screaming, trying to drag himself away.

And behind him, the dead were coming.

Ni-ki stood there, watching, gun lowered.

"He’s done," he muttered.

They should have left him.

They didn’t.

Jungwon fired a shot, killing a zombie before it could reach the injured man. He looked at Ni-ki, furious. "We don’t leave people to be eaten alive."

"He deserved it," Ni-ki spat.

"That’s not the point!"

But the damage was done. The man lived. Barely. And vengeance never dies.

Days passed. They thought it was over. That they were safe.

Then the attack came.

The man had returned—with people. Armed. Dangerous.

Gunshots rang out in the night.

"They found us!" Sunghoon shouted, grabbing his knife.

"Move!" Jungwon ordered. "We have to leave—now!"

The camp burned. Supplies were lost. But they had no choice.

They ran.

And as Y/N looked back one last time, she saw him. The man Ni-ki had left to die.

Grinning.

Because this wasn’t over.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the abandoned city as Y/N and Ni-ki walked in silence. The others had sent them out to hunt, but the air between them was thick with unspoken tension.

Ni-ki hadn’t spoken much since the night he had confronted the person responsible for his best friend’s fate. He had thought that justice would bring closure—but instead, it left an emptiness inside him, one that gnawed at his chest like the dangers lurking in the ruins.

"You’re quiet," Y/N finally said, breaking the silence.

"So are you," he muttered, kicking a stray rock.

She hesitated before speaking again. "You did what you had to do."

Ni-ki’s jaw tightened. "I left them to their fate."

"They deserved worse," Y/N said without hesitation.

His head snapped toward her, surprise flashing in his dark eyes.

"If it were me," she continued, gripping her knife tighter, "I would’ve done the same. No—worse."

Ni-ki stared at her, searching her face for any sign of doubt. But there was none.

For so long, he had felt alone in his anger, in his need for justice. But now? Someone understood.

And for the first time, guilt twisted inside him.

"You’re not like me," he said quietly.

"Maybe I am," Y/N replied, meeting his gaze. "And maybe that’s not a bad thing."

Ni-ki looked away. He didn’t know if he should feel relieved or afraid.

By the time they returned to camp, something was wrong.

The fire was still burning. Their supplies were scattered. But the air was too still.

"Where are they?" Y/N whispered, reaching for her knife.

A rustle. A footstep.

Then—

A hand grabbed Ni-ki from behind, shoving him to the ground. Another wrapped around Y/N’s arm, forcing her back.

Strangers. Armed. Dangerous.

"Well, well," a gruff voice sneered. "The last two left."

Y/N’s heart pounded as she struggled. She could see them now—the others. Jungwon, Jay, Heeseung, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Jake. Tied up, bruised.

Trapped.

"Let them go," Ni-ki growled, struggling against his captor.

The man holding Y/N chuckled. "Oh, you’re not in a position to make demands, kid." He pressed a weapon against her ribs. "But since you’re here, we’ve got a better deal. How about this?"

He looked at the rest of the group.

"One of you doesn’t make it. The rest get to leave."

Silence.

Y/N’s stomach twisted. She could see it—the way Jungwon was already calculating, the way Jake’s hands clenched, the way Sunghoon was shifting on his feet, ready to fight.

Then she made her choice.

"Take me," Y/N said.

Ni-ki’s head snapped toward her. "What?"

"You want someone gone, right?" she said to the man, voice steady despite the fear clawing at her throat. "Then take me."

The man grinned. "Brave. But foolish."

He pulled the trigger.

A shot rang out.

But Y/N never felt it.

Because Ni-ki had stepped in front of her.

The bullet tore through him, his body jerking as he collapsed to the ground.

"Ni-ki!" Y/N screamed, catching him before he hit the dirt.

The world blurred. The shouting. The chaos.

She didn’t care.

All she could see was Ni-ki, his face pale, his breath shaky.

"You idiot," she choked, pressing her hands to the wound.

He gritted his teeth, his grip on her tightening. "Told you... you’re not like me."

Then his eyes fluttered closed.

And the fight wasn’t over.

It had only just begun.

[akirathedramaqueen]

CBT and Exposure Therapy: Blitzø Showcase

An important (really, don't skip) disclaimer

If you are contemplating whether or not you would benefit from any kind of therapy, consider consulting with your medical provider first. While I did my best to validate all the points made using publicly available resources, I am not a medical professional. At the very least, I strongly advise that you do your own research and not take some amateur's opinion about a character from a silly demon show for granted.

"Everyone in this show needs fucking therapy STAT!"

We hear fans screaming into the void every now and then. Me too. I plead guilty and I willingly put myself in custody. But I am not taking these words back.

Especially often it is being said with Blitzø in mind, who, as hinted earlier and clearly shown in the latest episode, Ghostfuckers, is not doing okay. Not in the slightest.

Which is . . . yes. Indeed, trauma-ridden Blitzø is a major problem for both him and those around him. Yes, we see him reaching his lowest point now exactly because he left these gaping wounds untreated for so long.

But the tricky question is—how, though? What to do? Will a good talking to a confidante help? Or, maybe, some kind of shock would snap him out of the spiral?

I've been pondering on this topic for more than 4 months, and, as the Ghostfuckers came out, I finally got all the data I need to prove a point. The show did all the job for me and effectively made Blitzø go through improvised versions of two popular therapy techniques. And, before I even start, I want to say—I am so glad with what we ended up with. What they did, and, more importantly, didn't do, aligns well with how it would likely happen in real life.

So buckle up, and let's see where it gets us!

Therapy # 1. Cognitive-behavioral therapy, or CBT

This is, in essence and with some corrections, your good old talking. Here you can find more information about it, so, if you're not familiar with the topic, I recommend following the link first.

But, very shortly: CBT is an extremely common approach to be tried while you're dealing with anxiety, depression, and a number of other mental disorders. What it aims to do is to help you get past unhelpful thinking (distortions) and learn not to act on it.

Looks like it fits the bill, right? Blitzø has a lot of issues with self-fulfilling prophecies, infuriatingly stupid assumptions, poorly thought-out actions . . .

But he's not like, you know . . . w-we're not, like . . . we're not doing a . . . w-we . . . what's betw— It's a transactional fucking, you see.

If you don't feel like coming, that's OK! I'm sure I can do without it for one month. :)

Stolas only cares about having a rugged peasant raw-dog him into his matress! It's nothing, ya know . . . it's nothing else.

You . . . no longer have any obligation to see me, to touch me, to bed me . . . You are— you are free of me.

He sees things which aren't truly there.

It's not Stolas giving him space after the disaster in the 'Ozzie's.' It must be Stolas not needing him anymore, getting tired of him.

It's not Stolas caring about Blitzø. He is a royal, why would he care how an imp's day he happened to be fucking was?

It's not Stolas setting Blitzø free and putting an end to a problematic transaction they had with the hope for it to grow into something more. It's him getting rid of Blitzø.

As a result, he ends up hurting himself and the relationship he had with that one sad gay bird he happened to fall deeply for but literally trashed in his own house twice, acting on nothing more than frenetic fear of losing Stolas, but in reality, driving him away even more . . . for good.

I mean, you royal fucks think you can do this every time, like you can just play with our feelings because we're smaller and not as important!

Ha! I'm right, aren't I? You get off getting plowed by people you look down on!

And I can sorry more people, everyone but you! 'Cause I don't owe you dick! Everyone, but you . . .

So, the case's closed? Let someone—say, Millie—talk to him and tell him how wrong he was about himself and the others?

Well, here's the thing. Despite him being infinitely wrong about Stolas's intentions, we can't deny the fact that every one of his beliefs was not, in fact, a distortion. It'd led him to wrong conclusions, yes, but it was built on the information he received and legitimate experiences he had in his life. Here are only some of the facts connected to only this situation with Stolas, but there are other problematic behaviors and other reasons for him acting the way he does.

Fact # 1. The circus fire did happen, and Blitzø was the reason for it. Unintentional, and of course it wasn't his fault, but it still ruined the lives of many people—him included. Blitzø cannot act like it never occurred.

Fact # 2. Hell is divided by class and race. Their situationship with the grimoire was an embodiment of that inequality. A lot of Blitzø's outburst during the Full Moon and later in the Apology Tour was connected to it, to his beliefs that Stolas is the same as the rest of the privileged circle. Beliefs, I stress, justified by the real world. Stolas is more of an exception, and even then, his behavior is only different when it comes to Blitzø. He still acts the same toward other imps.

Fact # 3. We knew about Stolas's intentions all along, but before that fateful Full Moon, what Blitzø saw was Stolas avoiding him and not communicating the issue the Ozzie's date had raised. And before Ozzie's? Stolas did act entitled and inappropriate. He was baby-talking to Blitzø and used derogatory terms while addressing him. The dude literally called him an impish plaything in the Truth Seekers.

Fact # 4. Blitzø's heavily implied (though not officially confirmed by the show) existing conditions—ADHD*, BPD**, PTSD, and dyslexia/dyscalculia***—do affect his life, and while Hell seems to be somewhat receptive of neurodivergence, he still has to deal with it every single fucking day. He is going to be avoidant and afraid to be abandoned at the same time. He is going to hate himself. His learning disabilities are going to make his life harder. No way around it.

Note: *, **, and *** contain links to separate meta-analyses from @timkontheunsure and @tealvenetianmask about the respective conditions and how they show themselves in Blitzø's case.

And my beef with CBT here is exactly that. CBT's goal is to gaslight you into believing your distortions hold no water and suggests you just ignore them. And, as I've shown with Blitzø, these reactions and assumptions aren't baseless. They are legitimate, and, in fact, sometimes help to get by. Even though it's a crooked crutch, you can't learn to walk properly by just throwing that crutch away. You're still going to limp, and oh, will it be painful.

This is oversimplistic and dismissive. Anxiety and depression don't come out of the blue, and with mental disabilities, it's even deeper. The class/disability stigma is alive and strong, and just slapping a "you're fine" bandaid on your traumatized self isn't going to help.

Therapy # 2. Exposure therapy.

Exposure therapy is another approach commonly used while dealing with traumatic past and its aftermath—PTSD, anxiety, phobias, and such. Again, if you're not familiar, there's the link for you, but very shortly—the therapist puts the patient in a safe environment and 'exposes' them to the feared object in question for limited periods of time. The goal is to eventually get rid of the targeted fear and decrease avoidance.

And Blitzø has got some phobias for sure.

The fear of letting everyone down. Again.

And the fear of abandonment. Again.

All of it is a result of self-hatred, sitting so deeply it rules his life and his vision of how others perceive him. Said it himself. Almost.

So, where and how does the show expose Blitzø to his traumatic past?

First, the most recent, and the most obvious one—Rolando and his slideshow of all traumatic events Blitzø ever had in his life.

Second—Blitzø's drug trip in the Truth Seekers. While it does not contain the events of the past as they were, it does force him to face his fears.

Are you worried I might have enough of it one day as well? . . . You're going to die alone! . . . You're going to die alone, Blitzo!

With some stretch, the third one is Verosika's 'Blitzo sucks' party. Where Blitzø was forced to see the consequences of his avoidance and rejection.

Note: to be clear, I do think the party does not show the true extent of Blitzø's actions and how much he'd hurt people. It was exaggerated by Verosika, and here I explain why this is the case.

So, what gives? Or, rather, what gives it not?

It might sound funny now, considering I brought it up myself, but I, once again, say this is not therapeutic, just as CBT kind of 'talking.' If anything, all these three events did more harm than good.

The D.H.O.R.K.S.'s goal in the Truth Seekers was to torture the information out of Blitzø. He was not supposed to overcome it. He was supposed to crack.

The Verosika's goal was to ruin Blitzø's reputation. She was working her ass off to prove he's just a heartless freak.

The Rolando's goal was to fucking kill Blitzø.

And okay, their motivations had nothing to do with helping him, but maybe it did, in its own twisted way?

No. The writers added this to push Blitzø past the breaking point, not to heal him, and to show us more of his lore. Each time he was forced to face his past or fears or consequences, he was only spiraling more.

The only thing which did him some good was . . . well, Millie finally seeing his bravado mask falling off. But the cost of it was way too high. Not worth it.

To the therapy's defense, some points why it would never work in the way it was done in the show:

Blitzø had never given his consent and was not ready to face it. I might be very rude right now, but go and try producing some explosion-like sounds in front of war veterans without letting them know first and see what happens.

The amount of fearful experience exposed was way too overboard. He couldn't possibly digest it in a healthy way.

The environment was not safe. It was straight-up retraumatizing, an intentional one.

So there's that.

But what helped then?

We've briefly brushed over the fact Millie did talk to Blitzø. While I did imply this might be an example of CBT, here are some key deviations from the classic therapy which made all the difference.

Millie didn't sugarcoat all the shit Blitzø did. He was hurting their business. He didn't pay her. He was reduced to Bethanie. It showed her opinion can be trusted.

Millie apologized for not being there for him sooner. She admitted she relied too much on Blitzø being bulletproof, unbothered by everything. She admitted she didn't support him in a way he always did.

While proving she could never hate Blitzø, she used their common story, one he knows and can recall. She used evidence to prove him wrong, not a "it's all in your head" bandaid. And more than that, later she proved it with action—not for one second did she believe Rolando and his shittalk about what Blitzø supposedly was thinking about her. Her unwavering faith spoke more than any words ever could.

Getting back to exposure therapy . . . Metaphorically, she reminded Blitzø he can handle a beating or two. And physically beat the infestor demon out of him, which, as we can see later, didn't really affect Blitzø that much. He wasn't even battered. So, apparently, when the said exposure is done by someone who genuinely tries to make you feel better and knows your limits well, it might just work?

And finally, Millie acknowledged Blitzø's pain. She didn't brush it away. She validated him.

What all of this is about?

Like every treatment, too much of a medicine can become poisonous. So are CBT and exposure therapy.

They might help, and lots of research shows they do in certain cases. But there are limitations to what they can and cannot achieve, and they have to be adjusted to each individual story, to each trauma, and they should not be applied as a way to mend the outcome of the trauma without taking into account the story it comes with. Again, legitimate concerns and experiences cannot be brushed away or ignored.

Actualy . . . we've seen where it leads in the show too. In the beginning, Millie was quite dismissive of Blitzø's worries—all of this over a . . . breakup?

And here it comes full circle.

Only when Millie started taking Blitzø seriously, did it help them progress. And look how quickly we've switched from a complete despair to a glimmer of hope! Isn't that a beautiful closing scene?

As a closing note—we do not need to 'fix' Blitzø. After all this shit he went through, there won't be a day where he wakes up and be like, "Hey, I don't hate myself anymore! And look, I'm not afraid to be abandoned or misunderstood!"

I'm sorry to break it to you, but this is a lifelong battle. Being mentally whole, healthy, and constantly happy is no more than a myth, and everyone has their own demons and skeletons to deal with.

What Blitzø needs is some good support system to pull him back when he's down.

And boy, do I hope that one particular owl will fill in that role of unyielding pillar for Blitzø each time our lizard will fall into that pit again. Look, I love Millie, but there's only so much she can do. She can't be always present, she has her own life . . . and her own disaster of a husband to look after (affectionate <3). Here and here @lost-romantique talks about Stolas's capacity of loving, with me occasionally nodding, ha-ha. But to be short—it's fucking immense. And since he loves words, I do believe he has all the energy to tell again and again and again how awesome Blitzø is. Even if Blitzø wouldn't believe it himself.

[saythatuwill]

babes, you gave me actual brainrot with android!vessel 🥺

would you be willing to expand on how he and reader realised they were in fact in love with each other and how their relationship progressed into a romantic one?

🫶🏻💜

HI SILLY!! welcome to the BRAINROT.

let's expand!!!

i was going to do a fic for the moment they realized they were in love with each other but... untreated adhd u know how it is :(

i like to think it's a year later, from when you two first met. the day of the incident, with sleep, with your partner, all of that. rough day for both of you, kinda quiet in the house all day.

it's getting late, vessel can't find you inside, finds you outside on the porch. and you two have your first proper conversation about that day. you talk about your grief, vessel opens up for the first time about the abuse he suffered from sleep and he's apologizing to you about what sleep did. which. wasn't his fault.

you have a heart to heart, kinda rest your hand on his back.

"hey. it wasn't your fault."

"none of it would've happened if i knew what i know now-"

"it wasn't your fault."

you start talking about how weird it is, to have him around even a year later. every good thing you've ever had, you've lost, or it left somehow. he looks at you for a long time, then he speaks.

"well... i don't intend on going anywhere, not without you at this point. do you?" it's the sweetest thing vessel's ever said to you.

"...nah. you're stuck with me, too."

after that, it's gradual. he's apprehensive about love (because he doesn't truly know what it is). you're apprehensive about love (grief). but it's the little things.

you teach him how to dance in your living room and it's something in the way you look at him. he helps you one night with connecting the dots on a case, it's something in the way you hug him.

then it's the way he tries to touch you. leans his knee against yours, hand on your back in public. the first time he laughs, it's with you. holding hands in public. inviting him to your bed to cuddle on a cold winter night.

vessel starts writing you love letters and leaving them on your bed. he researches love and how to express it better. he writes poems, paints you pictures, takes you to the backyard at night to stargaze. you make a secret code/language with him that only you two understand.

the first "i love you" came on a summer night, he set the backyard up (more like he asked iii to come over and decorate the backyard), made it all special. drags you outside, all proud about it, hoping that he did a good thing that will make you happy. of course you are!!!

he professes his love to you with a poem he wrote about you, under the moonlight. stumbled over almost every word, almost blue screened from how nervous he was. eventually you just shut him up with a kiss. he's such a dork but it's okay he's your dork

(DELTA TAG THE SQUEAKUEL: @astronoids)

[fairydustttx]

Pluto Projector

Robert Reynolds x Ravyn Lawson (Black OC)

A/N: This is a little interlude while I piece the rest of this story together so she’s a lil short my bad.

Warnings: mentions of drugs

Wc: 1026

Summary: Before he was The Sentry he was just Bob—reckless, unstable, and most importantly hers. Years later, Ravyn Lawson is a government psychologist assigned to assess a dangerous new superweapon... and comes face to face with the man she tried to save. He doesn't remember her. Not really. But something in him still knows. And that might be the most dangerous part of all.

PART FOUR - THE PAST PART THREE

Bob had never seen a sunrise like the one over Kuala Lumpur.

It wasn't beautiful in a romantic sense—more like eerie, the sky smeared in orange and gray, as if the city had been caught between burning and breathing. His backpack was damp from a storm the night before. He hadn’t slept. He hadn't really slept in days.

But that didn’t matter anymore. He wasn’t Bob Reynolds, the guy from Queens who once danced in the kitchen with a girl smarter than the world knew what to do with. Here, he was no one. He was just a foreigner with shaky hands and enough guilt in his bones to drown a continent.

Bob had been planning this trip for months, quietly scraping together cash while Ravyn cooked dinner or studied in the next room. Loose change from under couch cushions. Pay from random delivery shifts. Some pawned things she never noticed missing—his guitar, a broken watch, a set of collectible comics he’d once sworn he’d die with.

She thought he was getting better and He had let her believe it.

Because the truth was, Bob didn’t want to get better—he wanted out. And not because he didn’t love her. That was the worst part. He did.

He loved her so much it hurt to breathe some days. But he loved her like a wound. Like something raw and infected that would only spread if left untreated. So he left before he ruined her for good.

The ad had said "volunteer participants needed for experimental neurological enhancement therapy." But word on the street, whispered by a guy who once sold him half-dosed painkillers, was that this program in Malaysia offered more than pills—it offered the good stuff. Not just a fix. A solution. A way to be better, stronger, whole.

Bob wasn’t stupid. He knew it sounded like a scam. But hope is a drug too. And when you’ve already burned through everything else, it’s the last high you reach for.

The facility was clean. Unnervingly so. White hallways, soft lights, the kind of silence that suggested money and danger had shaken hands. They gave him a number. Not a name.

For weeks, he was monitored. Poked, prodded, questioned. The injections started slow. Vitamins, they said. Stabilizers. “Necessary groundwork.” But the real stuff—the shimmering serum locked behind three layers of security—came later.

And when it did, it split him open.

Not all at once. Not like a bolt of lightning. More like a quiet fracture—an ache behind the eyes, a tightening in the chest, a hunger that couldn’t be fed.

He saw things. Not hallucinations—memories, maybe, or pieces of something deeper. Not just his own. Sometimes they came in dreams, sometimes while he was awake, staring at the flicker of a ceiling light for too long. And worse: he started forgetting which parts were real. Whether the love he left behind had actually existed, or if Ravyn was just a warm hallucination built by a broken brain.

But he knew she was real. He had to believe she was real. She was the last thing he’d held onto, even when everything else slipped—her laugh, the curve of her shoulders when she pulled on one of his old hoodies, the way she once kissed his wrist like it was a promise.

There were moments he wanted to write. Call. Crawl back to her with whatever was left of his mind in his hands and beg. But how do you go home when you're not even sure you're human anymore?

Then came the accident. One of the other test subjects cracked—ripped through metal restraints like paper. Bob didn’t remember what happened next. Not clearly. Just flashes. Screams. Smoke. And a mirror he passed that showed him something with his face, but eyes that weren’t his own.

After that, he was told he’d been “presumed dead” during the breach. Officially logged as a casualty of a failed trial.

Bob hadn’t corrected them. Better this way. Easier.

But sometimes, in the quiet hours—between the med-laced haze and the sterile bedsheets—he thought about Ravyn.

About how she'd looked at him the night before he left, her hand in his hair, her voice steady even as he shook from withdrawal.

"You're still in there, Bob. I know you are."

He wished she’d been wrong. Because if she was right, then the part of him that was still him had knowingly walked out on the only good thing in his life.

Now, in a country that barely registered his existence, he sat in a cheap hostel room, watching sweat bead on a cracked windowpane. He hadn’t had a real conversation in days. He hadn’t seen a familiar face in months.

He was a ghost of a man, floating through a city that didn’t care if he lived or died.

And yet—he felt something stirring. Deep in his chest. A quiet hum, like a machine warming up. The serum was changing him. He could feel it.

But it hadn't made him better. Not yet.

Not the way Ravyn had hoped.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

One night, he wandered into a street festival. Lanterns bobbed overhead, casting shifting shadows across vendors and dancers. Music pulsed through the crowd, and Bob stood on the edge, watching. Disconnected. Separate.

A little girl bumped into him all knees and pigtails, dropping a paper flower. Bob bent down slowly, joints aching from whatever they'd done to him inside. He picked up the flower and held it out to her.

She looked up at him wide eyed and unafraid, “Are you lost?”

Bob blinked. The heat shimmered off the asphalt. Her voice was small and steady, but for a moment—

It felt like Ravyn’s voice.

Not the exact pitch, not the tone. But something in it—gentle and solemn, like she already knew he was breaking. Like she could see through him.

He didn’t have time to answer.

There was a sharp sting in his neck. Immediate numbness. The world tilted sideways.

His hand let go of the flower.

And Bob’s body hit the ground like a sack of bone and memory.

[irlplasticlamb]

hello! i’m begging on my knees for something on your oc metal band dogtooth please i need to know more

YOU JUST OPENED A PANDORA’S BOX AND YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW ITTTTTTTTT

i’m gonna preface this (probably super long) reply by saying i do like to explore dark themes in my work, nothing is ever black or white and some stuff is just painful, complex and never fully gets resolved. i don’t condone anything that happens with/to these characters.

in this universe no bands that exist in our world (so for example the beatles, the doors etc.) exist and are instead replaced by the in-universe counterparts. dogtooth is very black sabbath-esque because i created these ocs after a very intense ozzy/black sabbath phase i had a few years back hahah. i was also really inspired by the book i read as a teenager called the rotters club.

jeffrey “jeff” mason is the band’s bassist, lead singer and arguably the main character of the story. he’s around 26 years old when the main story starts, he’s gay (closeted for A LONG time) and cis. jeff was raised in The Town, england (i still need to name it LMAO but it’s very birmingham-adjacent, industrial town mostly filled with low and middle income families) by his devoutly christian, conservative mother donna. his dad left the picture shortly after jeff was born. donna had a lot of untreated mental issues, religious paranoia and delusions, resulting in a terrible childhood for jeff. she was a very stern, unpleasant woman, would regularly punish jeff for the tiniest of things, resulting in jeff rebelling even harder. he struggled in school, hated church, his only escape was music. he bought his first guitar at 15 after working odd jobs and stealing change from donna.

jeff struggles with a plethora of issues himself, he’s very emotionally unstable, insecure and prone to even slightest changes of mood. he’s a drug and alcohol addict, an undiagnosed schizophrenic and an on-and-off bulimic. jeff can be very hard to be around although he IS dog-level of loyal and loving towards people important to him. he’s passionate, artistic, loves to experiment and explore. he doesn’t care about material goods at ALL, when the band gets successful, he regularly gives up his possessions and money to those who, in his mind, need it more. it’s easy to manipulate jeff because he so pathetically wants to be loved.

tadeusz “ted” krasinski is the band’s lead guitarist, also 26 years old. he’s bisexual, aromantic and cis. ted was raised by his dad stanisław, a polish immigrant, his mother died when ted was 6. ted and jeff became best friends in preschool and they’re so so dear to each other, even though so different. the krasinski household was always a safe place for jeff. even though stasiek was a drunk himself, he was always kind and caring towards both ted and jeff, treating jeffrey as his other son. ted is a SMARTASS, he’s honestly insufferable, if rick and morty existed in the 80s, tadeusz would be the guy to tell you that it’s actually a really smart show, you just have to have a very high iq to understand it. he pretends not to care about anybody or anything, but the truth is, he deeply appreciates those very few he lets himself get close to. he’s brilliant, charismatic, ADORES animals. he’s also probably the best musician in the band.

ted is also an alcoholic and is maybe a bit TOO into ketamine. he keeps the cards close to his chest, quite often to his demise. he’s VERY repressed.

danny “dee” cooper, dogtooth’s rhythm guitarist, 24 years old. he’s bisexual and non binary (uses he and she pronouns). danny is the baby of the group, the only one who grew up middle class (contrary to the other members who were raised either poor or bordering on poverty). dee is a bit spoiled, free spirited, frivolous, always ready to party. she always speaks with such disregard towards his parents’ “normal and boring life” which is frankly insane to the other guys, who could only ever dream about abroad holidays and new shoes every season. danny has NO filter which quite often leads to her offending people with her blunt honesty but he rarely does purposefully. he’s so cheery and adorable though, it’s hard to hate him for long. dee also really cares about the state of the world, which is surprising considering her behaviour and upbringing.

danny is a sex addict and abuses psychedelics. she once almost burnt a motel room during one of his trips LMAO. he’s very hedonistic in nature (honestly all of the dogtooth idiots are).

anthony “tony” culpepper, dogtooth’s drummer, 27 years old. he’s bisexual (although with strong preference for women) and very lowkey transfem adjacent. tony was raised by his grandparents in a very warm, loving, caring house. he’s the human embodiment of a teddy bear, too full of love and trust for his own good. he has a big trouble opening up to people about his struggles (gambling addiction, gender issues, alcoholism) because he desperately wants to be of support to the people he loves. tony goes trough an incredibly dark time when his grandparents die (he’d around 35 at that time) which is a bit of a breaking point for him, landing him in a facility for almost a year.

SUPPORTING CAST:

richard kraven, 37 years old. the band’s manager, jeff’s boyfriend and later husband. his dad owned a huge record company but would regularly gamble most of the earnings, making richard’s childhood very unstable. one day he’d be in the most expensive of hotels eating lobsters, the next he’d be in a trailer hiding from daddy’s loan sharks. signing dogtooth SAVED the kraven empire and richard takes managing the band extremely seriously. jeff and rich are the embodiment of toxic yaoi, they’re MADLY in love with each other and can’t imagine it any other way, but they also fight A LOT — rich will slap jeff for overdoing in drugs (AGAIN) and then jeff will burn his favourite suit because he doesn’t appreciate rich’s tone that day. they’re insane. they marry and stay in a relationship until they die. i love them.

also funny thing, richard is also a drug and sex addict. this big bad serious man persona doesn’t work that well sometimes LOL

kazuko johnson — danny’s fiancée (then wife), 25 years old. a one-in-a-century fashion design prodigy and hardcore human rights activist. she’s honestly very similar to dee, bubbly, charismatic, a bit spoiled, yet still tuned in to the world that surrounds her. kazuko almost leaves dee twice or thrice because he cheats on her so much but they do manage to figure it all out.

ivory williams — 27 years old, a supermodel, tony’s girlfriend (then wife). she’s almost a full package, honestly. stunningly beautiful, brilliantly intelligent. does have a persistent coke habit and a bit of a diva complex but who wouldn’t in her position (LMAO). the only person next to jeff who can handle richard’s insanity because she refuses to ever treat him seriously.

[docsbestkissedoperative]

This is the Closest Thing to Intimacy (for us)

JEBHANK UPON YOU! The Sleeper Labs mission has made me lose it completely, so here's this

A03 version

TW: Intentional self-poisoning, probably not accurate medical stuff

🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴

The sight of Hank J. Wimbleton’s collapsed, broken body on the ground was not a new one for Christoff. Standing above them, a weapon firmly held in his hand, is just as familiar.

In his opinion, the only oddity in this particular situation is that it’s not exactly his fault that Hank is where they are now, delirious and likely with their vision blurring until two Christoffs stood before them.

As an ex-scientist of the Nexus, he knew fully well what Hank was experiencing now. Cardiac glycosides, though made to treat certain heart conditions, would be poisonous should anyone choose to take more than the recommended. The heart could start to beat too fast or too slow, nausea is imminent, an increased amount of potassium will send the subject into a heart attack, and, if left untreated, they could die from their heart being unable to pump blood properly.

Simply put, if Christoff did not keep his end of the bargain, Hank would be on their way to a painful death. As a matter of fact, they already are.

Christoff kneeled in front of his uneasy ally, watching them attempt to stay still but letting slip moments where the pain causes them to curl up, hands digging into the sweater beneath their dark black coat where their heart must be. Notably, their heart appeared to be further to the right and to the bottom. By its current position, Christoff was certain that it pushed into whatever was left of Hanks’ ribcage, as if threatening to spill out and escape. 

From how fierce they were in battle, it was easy to forget that Hank was a dead grunt walking, a hodgepodge of body parts put back together to something resembling themself. Not that he could judge, Doc had to do the same for him.

He wasn’t sure why he even thought about it. Perhaps it intrigued him is all, that for someone who has experienced the agony of death a loathsome amount of times, they would still willingly dance with it once more.

More perplexing was that they trusted Christoff to bring them back from the brink. Some of their deaths, though long ago by this point, were willingly caused by Christoff. And yet, he barely finished his explanation of what they needed to do before Hank had waltzed over to the cabinet and slammed it open.

“Which one of these is the glycavides?” They asked flatly, eyes likely squinting behind their goggles to read the labels.

“Glycosides.” Christoff corrected them as he walked towards Hank, “The cardiac kind.”

“Whatever.” They responded, randomly pulling a small clear bottle out and raising it up so Christoff could see it, “This one?”

“No.” Christoff said, and pushed Hank out of the way of the cabinet. Hank responded by rolling their eyes, but they took a step back to give the ex-scientist space to sift through the dusty bottles.

Cardiac glycosides were not the only drugs here. Narcotics of every variety, amlodipine, tramadol, everything else to make any and all physical pain tolerable enough for Subject 1v02P_6 to willingly continue experiments were shoved in this cabinet. It was all unorganized, much to Christoff’s displeasure, perhaps from the previous owner’s own use.

“You almost done there, Christoff?” Hank says after only a minute, arms crossed and fingers impatiently squeezing them. If Christoff didn’t know them any better, he wouldn’t have caught the way Hank’s mask shifted, a frown evident on the part of their face that could still emote.

“Patience, Hank.” He answers, tossing a half-empty plastic bottle away, “If we take the wrong one, I cannot guarantee that we will know how to resuscitate the other.”

He hears a huff, but no further complaints.

After another minute passes, he finally finds the correct one. A brown bottle just a few centimeters shorter than the others, still full. 

“Here it is.” He says, “And fortunately in liquid form. This should make it easier to consume.”

“Cool.” Hank says, and stretches their palm out, “Hand it over.”

A pause. The silence hangs heavy between them.

Hank bristles, “What.”

Christoff grips the bottle a little tighter, and says hesitantly, “You…will be the one to take it?”

“Yeah. Duh.” They say bluntly, like Christoff was an idiot for not understanding it from the get-go.

“You understand that however brief, this will be excruciating?” He asks carefully.

“Yeah.”

“And you will have to rely on me to bring you back?”

“How many times will you make me say ‘Yeah’ before you give me the bottle?”

Truthfully, it did not make any sense to Christoff. Logically, he was more knowledgeable on how to treat the adverse reactions of taking this medicine, so Hank taking it instead of him made the most sense. That, he could not argue against. However, Hank’s decision to volunteer so quickly was off putting to him.

Their current alliance already hinged on them not tearing each other into shreds. Hell, it began because Hank beat him until he was knocked onto the ground. If they were not searching for Hofnarr, he was certain they would have killed him on the spot.

Still, there were moments where it felt…different. Hank, half kneeling on the ground, shielding him with their own body as he recovered from a sleepwalker’s explosion, enduring more scratches from other sleepwalkers that would have destroyed a poorer quality coat. Hank, sensing the danger first, using their blade with deadly precision to send a bullet flying back to its sender. And no matter how many times Hank wanted to crawl into the vents, they let Christoff open mini elevators and grab keycards.

“Let’s get this over with already, Christoff.” Hank snapped.

And this patience. Hank had been doing their best to be patient. For him.

What was going on?

It doesn’t click exactly, but Christoff found himself softly placing the bottle onto Hank’s waiting palm. Before Hank could retract it, Christoff placed one hand under Hank’s, and his other slowly folded Hank’s fingers shut over the bottle and stayed on top of it.

Hank freezes. Christoff doesn’t say anything.

From what he could gather from the skin left uncovered by their gloves, Hank’s hands were very rough and calloused. Handling weapons and getting into many fist fights would do that to anyone. He can only guess at times, but he does his best to trace the stitches that connected the thumb to the palm, the palm to the wrist, the wrist to the arm, then retraced his steps back to the other fingers. Christoff was fascinated that though their heart may have shifted positions, the speed of its pulse remained the same.

Hank doesn’t melt into his touch, but their shoulders relax by a near imperceivable amount. Christoff caught it.

What felt like an eternity passed without a word uttered, then Christoff says, “You will only need around a quarter for its effects to be sufficient.”

“Sure.” Hank doesn’t miss a beat, and they lower their mask, twist the cap open, and drink.

Not much happens at first, then Hank drops the bottle and falls to their knees, gasping for air like they were suffocating. Seconds later, they’re on the ground shaking.

And here he was now, kneeling in front of Nevada’s killing machine, who left their life in his hands. Was that not so strange?

He had grabbed a bigger bottle of digoxin immune fab and a syringe along with the cardiac glycoside. The half empty water bottle he had collected before they entered the Sleeper Labs was enough to reconstitute it, and he hurriedly filled the syringe with it.

As Hank writhed, Christoff reached for their arm and held it firmly. If Hank could glare at him for interrupting their pain induced squirming, they would.

“Patience.” He says. Hank, despite it all, rolls their eyes and does their best to stay still.

He tears off a small scrap of his torn lab coat to use as a tourniquet on Hank’s arm. His hands are gentle as they find a vein, and without a moment to waste, he injects the mixture into Hank’s arm.

The reaction is not instantaneous, but over time, Hank’s pained movements begin to slow down, and their breathing returns to a calmer state.

All throughout it, they did not complain as Christoff soothed them, assuring him the pain would ease soon enough.

If not for the unique circumstances they were both currently in, Christoff doubts that Hank would ever allow something so…unspoken to happen between them.

When the pain appears to fully subside, Hank adjusts their mask and stands as if they were not mere minutes away from death.

“Can we leave now?” They ask.

Christoff coughs to give himself a moment to recover, “Yes. The gate should be open now.”

“Good. Let’s go.” Hank says, chooses four different guns from the room they were in, and jogs out into the madness of the outside.

Christoff is compelled to follow after him.