#I headcanon him as getting migraines and this is the only smell I can stand when I have a migraine so I guess that’s why | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

madhare0512 · 2 years

Note

hi idk if you're still in the usm fandom or not, but i read a few of your spideyfist analysis thingies where you watched the episode them commented on them and pointed out spideyfist or other ships and i wanted to know if you had any spideyfist headcanons or fic recs bc im desperately attached to them :>

Hello! Little bit of context, if I have ever posted about a fandom and am not currently posting about it, I'm still in the fandom or into the show, I'm just not focusing on it at the time. Since you asked about the Spideyfist list, this is as good a time as ever to give an update. I'm still working on them, I'm just not focusing on the fandom/show right now. The hyperfixation will come back around, I'm positive! I'm just not sure when. I'll get to the remaining episodes, though, so hang in there!

Secondly, I have all kinds of headcanons, but my fic recs are sparse 'cause there's not many spideyfist fics out there. I'll dig through my list and see what I find!

Now, as for headcanons!

~~~

- Peter can sing and sing well, sometimes he convinces Danny to join him, they duet love songs

- Peter’s favorite hero is Iron Fist, Danny’s is Spiderman

- Danny is always the first to react when Peter’s in trouble, the first to have him back, the first to ask what's needed, the first to be there when Peter needs someone

- Because other heroes are constantly underestimating him, Danny has come up with a Spiderman fanclub and will not hesitate to set people straight on what Spiderman can do, but no one knows how he knows half the things he knows

- Peter taught Danny to loosen up and make the most of the time given, Danny taught Peter about duty and honor

- If given half a chance, Danny and Peter will not hesitate to sacrifice for the other, the Ultimates and the Warriors really wish they'd FUCKING STOP

- Peter complains constantly about the smell of smoke and how it makes him sneeze, but if Danny asks if he wants him to move his meditation elsewhere, Peter refuses to let him

- Danny has chronic pain in his hands from where he's broken fingers, knuckles, and wrists so often, so Peter helps him treat it by buying him hot packs and Tylenol with what little money he has

- Peter gets migraines because of his heightened sensed, he can only stand to be around Danny when he gets them, but not because he's Peter’s boyfriend, but because Danny’s the quietest person of his friends and family

- Danny isn't a trouble maker, but villains always seems to know to go after him first and foremost and if he gets hurt on patrol ONE MORE TIME then Peter will not be held responsible for his actions

- Deadpool once dropped by Peter’s house to annoy him for a while, but noticed almost immediately that the Kung Fu boy was with him, they where napping at the time, Deadpool left with resolve to come back another time

- Heroing is a dangerous business to anyone, but if you hang around Peter long enough, you begin to notice that he's the most dangerous hero in the business

- Danny can cook if so desired, but Peter does most of the cooking for them

- Danny and Peter got together after the season 1 episode 'Freaky' in which Wolverine gave Peter a little push in the right direction

- Danny and Peter are soulmates, regardless of romantic or not

- Danny went back to K'un L'un when his time was up, but he seriously didn't want to. He very much considered giving up the throne to someone else, letting someone else take his place as leader and ruler, but Peter convinced him that they could do long-distance. It worked shockingly well for them

- Peter is bisexual, Danny is demisexual

- EVERYONE knew that they'd end up together, even Fury, it's impossible to miss those puppy-dog eyes

- Danny and Peter never underestimate or overestimate each other, they know each other's limits and abilities as well as they know their own

- Peter has a standing invite back to K'un L'un, but the elders strong suggest he doesn't take it. Ever.

- Peter is Danny’s first real relationship, but he had a small fling with Scorpion when they were growing up. It didn't last long and Danny got his heart broken

- When Peter gets mad, he tends to forget himself. When he starts blacking out is when it gets dangerous. Danny is the only one who's been able to pull him back from this state without the use of powers

- Danny gets angry, but not like seeing-red angry, more like "I'm going to grind you into paste with my teeth" angry and Peter is the only one able to stop him

- In some universes, Danny (and the other Ultimates) are abused by SHIELD and Fury, Peter is always furious when this happens, but most notably because Danny’s usually the one who gets the brunt of it

- Danny is in complete control of himself at all times, it takes a lot to distract or deter him. There are very few things that can manage

- Danny and Peter are in love, this much has always been clear, even when they fight. It takes a lot for them to be upset with each other and a lot for them to actually fight over something, but no matter what they're always in love

~~~

Fic recs!:

Mostly pre-slash but I love it a lot-

Major character death-

This one's really cute-

~~~

Thank you much, friend!! If you have more asks, feel free to send them my way!

@thatonescorpion

#the ultimate spiderman #ultimate spiderman #peter parker #danny rand #spiderman #iron fist #spiderfist #spideyfist #fic recs #thoughts and headcanons #headcanons #ask #asked and answered #thatonescorpion #thanks scorpion!

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wroteclassicaly · 3 years

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May I Taste Your Sin

(Michael Langdon x Female Reader)

Pairings : Michael Langdon x Female Reader

Warnings : Language, smut, blood, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, blood play, & period sex.

A/N : This fic has been a loooong time coming! I’m sorry it’s taken me this long, but now that I have inspo I wanted get this out for y’all! The warnings are obviously self-explanatory, so skip this if you don’t like the contents it’s gonna contain! Michael Langdon eats human hearts, and he’s a demon, before anyone starts to fuss over this, lol. I’m sure menstrual cycles with his partner would be a dessert to him!

Enjoy! This one is pretty intense, so I’m nervous about it! I also have more installments with different characters coming in the next few days! :)

Check out where I first posted the teaser for this fic, and check out these period sex headcanons I wrote for Michael!

~*~

He keeps staring at you. You try to move about, do your tasks, even attempt conversation with people you’d tried so hard to avoid these past several years. Your abilities to function like the human being that you are, seemingly vanish whenever the tall honey blond is within your exhausted proximities. You aren’t sure if you’d like to let out the loudest echoing scream and see where it ends up in this place, or let your wildest carnal urges guide your hormones into a literal sticky situation. Or, at the very least, let yourself fantasize about seducing him in your own self-created version of reality.

You’ll have to settle on the latter, unfortunately. Pocketing the cream colored dish rag, you place the last row of finely printed novels on the book shelve. Your fingertips linger, attempting to find a portal through their leather cover tops. Your tongue slicks your parched lips, neck stretching to crack out the tension. You aren’t trying to do anything but stealing some relaxation, when a largely hot hand is pressing a knot-out in a knead on your shoulder - clasping, settling a risky purchase.

You don’t have to make an educated guess to know whose hand that belongs to. He practically spews out his control and ownership of this place every chance that he gets. Biting down a venomous sigh, you coerce yourself into a turn around - gathering an eyeful of Langdon’s fancy black vest. That’s not good enough for the King, apparently, as he fits his pointer finger underneath your chin in a tuck, thumb pressing against your jaw to tilt your gaze to his own.

“Did you forget your manners, Miss Y/L/N?”

The way his shining eyes are sizing your attention, captivating your unwillingness to comply to how Langdon makes you feel - it can’t be humanly possible, can it? There’s that possessive ache that begs you to launch ownership over him and his entire body. Why is everything so widely dramatic whenever he’s around? Is he just full of himself or is it something way more than you’re aware? A crackling parch winds its pathway around your throat, sealing your breath in.

Nothing comes from between your lips. You’re frozen solid, legs a weightless press. Each touch this... man brings upon your body is like a bass thump - pumping you towards his secretive rhythm. All you can do is sway with the beat. Langdon smirks coyly, his other hand resting behind his back in an idle grace.

Neither of you dare utter a word. However, Langdon is seemingly content in making you squirm and you try to focus on everything but his perfectly crafted jawline, and how eagerly you’d suck on it if asked. You swear you can hear your heartbeat galloping off, so strong that it can tear your heart right out of your chest along with it. His colorful eyes glance over you in a brief stamping sweep, lingering at your sore breasts and your waistline.

What is he even doing...?

“Excuse me, but Ms. Venable did not authorize any private conferences with the help.” A cold and steel - grasped voice chills your bones down, dusting your cheeks with a reddening humiliation.

You haven’t even so much as spoken to Langdon, yet it feels like you two have been clawing and scratching at each other all over this fucking outpost, riding one another until you can’t fathom walking upright. You still can’t speak, but Langdon takes care of that for you.

“Interesting, and did Ms. Venable give you permission to waltz in here when you weren’t requested or required, just to give a meaningless order?” Langdon is mildly amused in his question, his hand still paused on your chin, thumb now swiping in a tickling drop with his fingertip - along your jaw.

Ms. Mead looks comical in her brief attempt at forming a snappy comeback, only to go silent in defeat. You take this tension as your escape line - quickly edging from the sacred confines Langdon has built for you two, and you all but run out the door. You’re clutching your shirt collar, punching a two pounce path up the staircase and to the help’s quarters.

Chores now, panic later.

~*~

Five minutes. Five fucking minutes in this place that you’ve served without question, complaint, for nearly two years - is all you want. But as the heavy handed rasps of Mead’s knuckle bones beat on your bathroom door, you know that is a simple pipe dream. Her low voice is harsh with you, making your headache unfold into a full blown migraine. You shift uncomfortably, knees knocking together, thighs sore against the cool porcelain seat below you.

Langdon must’ve massively pissed her off... Good.

Your palms collect purchase to your cradle your face, your eyes glistening with tears, throat burning with frustration. It hurts too much to stand upright this time. Normally women would lose this in stressful situations. Add the apocalypse and barely eating, you’d peg it normal to receive nothing. However, your predicament is much worse, fucking you over once more.

Your body welcomes Mother Nature each month. Unpredictable, yet there. Heavy, excruciating. You could list on and on reasons that don’t amount to much. You’re stuck with a part of you that won’t ever come to fruition.

Not in your former life, especially not in this one. Another reminder that carries an award winning irony. Sighing, you peer down at the red dish rag you were given. Literally on the rag, what a joyous harmony. The elites of course, are given the tampons and pads.

You have to use scraps of fabric you’re forced to wash in the bathtub if you move too fast or sneeze. And on your heavy days when you haven’t the time to stop your duties to wash and air out the towels, things are much harder. At least before the apocalypse you had chocolate, feminine products, a warm shower to take your time in, movies to curl up with, and a place of your own to cry where no one could hear you. You sniffle, hormones locking down your heart.

Most recently the outpost had welcomed the cooperative leader Langdon. He had interviewed everyone but you, uninterested, only flustering you a few times. Him being here just makes your period a more unwelcome storm. This morning as you were passing him on the landing of the staircase, delivering the bath towels to elite rooms, he stared at you. Right into you, nostrils flaring, tongue rolling out to slick his plump lips, blue eyes darkening.

Then there was this afternoon. How could I forget...?

The encounters were over quicker than they took place. Still, his acknowledgment of you didn’t bring your interview, nor did it promise your application for the sanctuary he preaches about. Forcing your tears to bank, you stand with your dress skirt and apron held up, staring at the stained rag in your panties. You turn and flush the toilet, eating back around to the shock of your fucking life. There, just feet in the from the doorway, is Langdon in all his glory.

It makes you swallow harshly, stomach drawing off the butterflies that have grown claws. You feel winded. His ring covered fingers bring an object to your sights. A thinly wrapped stick. You don’t answer, you don’t move, you don’t protest him approaching until he’s directly in front of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You try, a mere whisper betraying your bravery.

“Helping you,” He answers simply, a heated slide crossing his mouth. You can practically taste him, damn near swaying forward.

You start to snap back into your senses, ready to cover your remembered modesty back up. He grasps your wrist, a hungry look soft in his features. “Will you let me?”

You’re shaking, body on fire at him touching you, you try to keep your legs from clenching, that want. You know what will occur if you let yourself. He is gentle with you, admiration clear. Why? You don’t understand this.

“You’re bleeding, I know.”

Jaw unhinged, you stand upright, his fingers still ghosting your skin. An unlucky movement on your part, the warmth spills from you and you look down between your thighs in horror at the red lines running down your legs, pattering against the floor. Langdon is breathing heavily, practically panting, stunning you once more. His other hand grips your cheek, thumb swiping your lip, eyes not breaking contact from yours.

“Do you know how good your cunt smells? Every pathetic person in this outpost is starving and you have the best meal between your fucking legs.”

When your silence stretches on, Michael nudges forward, careful with you. “May I feast?”

It’s all too much to handle. Having him talk to you, you speaking to him. And now this? How? You begin to grow dizzy, hands trembling as you try to pull your clothing back up. Langdon’s hands grip your wrists.

“Please don’t do that.”

You want to stun him incredulously, backhand him. None of that is happening, not even the urge. Instead, your want for him is magnifying beyond any feigned ignorance. Your tongue slides out across your lips, teeth biting down on your bottom lip in a brisk chew. Langdon hooks his middle finger between your teeth, releasing your lip and combing the blood across in a coppery gloss.

Your chest is startled, rising and falling in quivering quakes, ears hearing a static rush. Everything inside of you is alive and crying out in need to be sated. Langdon grips you around the waist, lowering his forehead to rest atop your own, his middle finger - still doused in your blood - slithers past his own lips, which close in a sticky suckle. A vibrating moan pummels his throat, causing a constricting swallow that showcases his Adam’s apple.

If I could only just lick that...

Langdon is sly and devilishly cunning to a fault - fast in his next movements. He presses a designer boot down over your skirts, successfully preventing them from being made up. “Leave them here for someone else.”

“I... I can’t. This is too much, Langdon —“ He chuckles at the formality.

“Since I can see your womanhood running from between your legs, I suppose it’s only fair that we skip some formalities, don’t you agree, Y/N?” Your eyes are probably wider than necessary - a cartoon like sight. He’s used your full name in an authoritative command, leaving no room for question. “And you may call me Michael.”

It’s all a little more frantic from this point. He gives the slightest of information, and you see your skirts and panties gliding across the floor in a winded push. Michael brings that wrapped item back into your eye-line. “We won’t be needing this for a while.”

“I didn’t say yes.” You try, swallowing a weak, whimpering stifle.

“But you didn’t say no, did you?” That shit eating grin. He has you and he is all too aware - elated to the brimming brimstone of hellfire you’re about to bestow upon yourself.

Your insides melt into the trenches of red hot, raw ravishment. Michael drops his left arm down, hand palming his hardening cock through black slacks, eyes encouraging you in a chained bind. “Let’s go and make a mess in my room.”

Now or never. No more of this, back to reality, maybe some place better. You’re spinning in a foiling encasement, precipice wide and open - hungry to pull you under. And you dive in, you let it all go. Michael looks satisfied, sharing something with himself that you don’t know... yet.

Taking Michael Langdon’s hand, you’re led into the unknown.

~*~

Langdon leads you down his own separate corridor, your free hand scolded for trying to hold yourself over your uniform.

“I want you to make a mess.” Michael says.

You hope that you’re not the one who will be paying the cost for your own said mess, or cleaning it up. If it’s up to Venable - you’ll be licking it, all the way to her high heeled boots.

Once inside the confines of Michael Langdon’s bedroom, you take the time to look around, enjoying the perks this situation is bringing. The room isn’t any different than what the purple elites get here, it is bordering on a more... lived in feel, which is ironic when you consider that Langdon hasn’t been here like everyone else has for the past three years.

Guess he’s just more comfortable? He does look like an English vampire half the time..

On that note, a particularly harsh cramp antagonizes your uterus, causing you to clench your abdomen, choking out a acidic slice. “Fucking demonic cramps.”

Michael - now clad in his all black ensemble, minus the overcoat - chortles, knotting his fingers together behind his back and strolls forward, wetting his lips as the firelight crackles a sparking soundtrack. “It’s ironic how you refer to it as “demonic”, when Satan really has nothing to do with this. I mean, it’s not on him that humanity failed their pitiful guidelines for sobering temptation. Wasn’t it your lord and savior that bestowed this curse upon you?” He finishes, giving a head tilt to your unhinged stun.

“Are you religious?” Is all you can come up with.

Michael sneers, looking slightly offended. It fades seconds later. “Depends on your definition of religious, and then there is what one believes in. But I guess you can say that I’m devoted to... a certain cause.”

“Were you this mysterious before the apocalypse, or is that why the cooperative gave you the job?” You try, a discomfort crackling at your inner thighs.

They’re probably smeared... And not just with blood.

“I bet you’re uncomfortable.” Michael teases, snapping his fingers at the fireplace. Did your eyes betray you, or did the flames flicker?

You want to give a snappy comeback, but it feels unwise. You nod like the sap that you are, nails biting your palms. Your heartbeat has begun to accelerate, a visible sight beneath your apron. Langdon guides himself to step in front of you, leather shoes drumming across the floor beneath. Every sound in this forsaken room is flowing through your eardrums - Michael’s scent on the tip of your tongue.

You need him. More than your body has to have the air that filters underneath this mausoleum. You’re so unsteady, eyes brimming with the smoking arousal, blocking common sense. Michael catches you as you collide with his chest, wrapping your fists into his vest. His blue irises are disappearing to a canyon of night sky - lavish black so sinful that it steals the breath from your lungs.

Drizzling off your tongue is a hesitation. “Won’t we get into trouble...? Venable -“ Those rough fingertips hold a softness that hushes your lips, denting.

“Can watch me with my face buried into your cunt. The humiliation will arouse her.” Michael answers in his own finish.

You aren’t sure why, but that grates your mouth into a sneaky grin, shared with Michael’s, sensing that slapping throb at his phrases. He pinches your chin, nuzzling your head to the side, his lips sloping a map across your neck. His towering physique backs you by knocking his knees into your thighs, delivering you to the edge of his bed. You drop like wild weights, looking towards the ceiling, trying to take a deep inhalation. Langdon crouches, pants rustling as they tighten around his temptingly thick thighs.

He tuts in a scold, chiding you furthermore. “You will watch what I’m getting ready to do to you! Is that clear, Y/N?”

You don’t answer fast enough, Michael’s hand wrapping around your throat, eyes burning hellfire through you - dusting your bones to ash. Your throat is wet with the clingy, unshed tears. Fuck, you have to be filled up until you’re hollowed out. Michael is languid in grace, hand toppling into your lap, joining his other.

“Take down your hair, Y/N.”

Like a puppet, you obey your new owner. Unwrapping the pointed bun, you shake your locks free, sighing in an eased tickle.

“What a good and obedient girl that you are. Those who obey, shall reap the riches.”

“Why are you doing this?” An ignorant question on your part.

“Because,” As if it’s the most simple answer in this broken world, Michael let’s his hands start to unbutton his vest, carelessly sending it, his attention not wavering off you in the slightest. “I’m hungry.”

A literal moan comes from you, making Langdon hiss through his through his milky white teeth. He resumes his former position, hovering.

“Spread.” Michael says, a quaint wonder adorning him, his palms sliding up and down your legs to feel you part them. The blood is mixing some fucked out potion with your creamy arousal for him, and he knows it, has it right into your tremble from the exposure.

Your skin is steaming in scrapes, responding so vulgarly to Michael, that he is hooking his wrists under your knees, bouncing the flesh into his awaiting hands, and claiming. He hoists your legs over his shoulders to arch you to his idea of perfection. You should be protesting, in a shambled shyness. That is gone, no place here. Michael let’s his nose rest in the crease of your thigh, crudely sniffing like some beast.

His sopping tongue finds a striking stroke along your ruby red, damp thigh.

Closer... He’s getting closer...

When you can’t feel that warm and snide air he possesses, you lock to load a question. Michael is shedding himself of his remaining clothing in a cocky crawl. His hair curtains his face as he sees you seek out his cock - thick and heavy, weighted and wet with pre-cum.

“Finish taking off your clothing.” You’ve never done something so fast in your years alive.

You have to admit, being so vulnerable like this - naked and bleeding, it has you buzzing.

Michael outstretches a veined forearm, the back of his rings swirling in desiring dances across your breasts. “Do these hurt?”

Your lashes are slicked in perspiring tears, the tired soreness harassing your chest. He has his truth. His trim form bows to you once more, placing your legs back where they belong. He knuckles a pressing push into your abdomen. “Bear down.”

It isn’t an accident this time, it’s not a discreet secrecy. Michael wants you this way. All of you. Finding a confidence, you give yourself a high and sink your fingers into his hair, toes tickling his shoulder blades in a forwarding nudge, doubling down on your muscles. That warmth spills out of you and Langdon takes you, tongue parting your swollen folds. He regulates his tongue in wet paints, licking and sucking everything you give him.

“Please—“ You’re already begging. It’s so fucking intense and intimate that you can’t formulate your own damned name.

“Are you really going to ask, or would you just like to feel good?” Michael vibrates, his mouth visible and shining crimson as he seeks you out between your slippery thighs.

It’s outright feral. His irises are coal black, blue lost in some combing canyon that’s crumbled around sin. His digits prod at your sensitive opening, being accepted moments later. His lips close over your clit, tongue slithering back and forth to assist his beckoning fingers. He gathers more from you - his purpose.

That quenched fold starts to seize you early on, your pattering breaths signaling the orgasm that is about to tear the screams from your fucking diaphragm. Michael’s hand smacks and rolls your swollen breast - permission granted. That’s all it takes and you’re falling back onto the mattress, back arching in a lined drag, pussy flattening against his mouth. He jerks you impossibly closer, your vision whiting out into dark spots. You tangle your fingers further into his luscious strands, holding, pulling.

In the midst of close recovery, Michael is plowing you with a short lived let down, his mouth leaving your pussy. You can’t complain, no time available, as his hips slot in a frazzled fit between your legs. His pelvis is tense, sheathed in sweat. His chest smashes your breasts, his hand reaching down to guide his cock inside you. You can’t speak, but cling tightly to his back. He growls a sound that you’ll never forget, the fire bursting behind him, flames licking the rocked cove that houses them.

His mouth is covered in your essence, your cunt bathing his dick with each violent thrust. It’s pouring in drenches, salty perspiration, pooling blood - both of you losing yourselves in the mess. Michael props himself up, digging into a dipping slam, meeting your mouth in an ending kiss. His hair tickles your shoulders, nose nudges your now blood caked mouth, and he gives the warning.

“Spill your fucking curse all over me!” And you come undone, glued to him in puzzled entrapment.

Your thighs are wrecked, his bedsheets useless, and then there’s Michael, who forces you to look at him and really see him. There’s only black in his eyes. You sputter a disbelief, bracing. His mouth parts, tongue flicks across to gather more, leveling off into his jagged movements. He swells inside your cunt, dousing your walls in his warm cum.

He doesn’t leave you, not even when it’s over. He simply takes you with him. You aren’t sure where you get the courage to speak - body shaking and shivering.

“What... Michael, who are you?”

He cups a hand over your cunt, rolling onto his side, keeping you held to him. He lightly blows away a pesky lock of your hair, then maneuvers another behind your ear.

“I’m the man who’s going to save your wretched existence.”

Tag list : @littledemondani @dark-mei-rose @fckinsupreme @angelicmichael @icylangdon @ritualmichael @sojournmichael @celestialrequiem @instinctsxbaby @infernwetrust @ferndolan @9layerdevilfoodcake @bloodcoatedeclipse @wormycircumstance @antichristsxbox @xavierplympton @xavierplymptons @ramona-thorns @lovelylangdonx @langdxn @codyarchives @dailylangdon @codyfernuk @langdonsjoyy @7-wonders @blakescoven @holylangdon @bitchchatter @suspiriva @taskmastter @kitty4860 @ladynuwanda @langdonsexual @sammythankyou

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cipheress-to-k-pop · 3 years

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Hi, I absolutely adore your writing and it’s quite inspiring and making my imagination go WEEWOO!

Could I request something for YJ With Dick? So like a headcanon or one shot (which ever you prefer queen) where the reader is quite reserved, snarky and can get angry real fast. They have feelings for Rob and they are especially snarky to him to hide their feelings, but they eventually start to open up more and during the events of episode 24 (you know, the one at haly’s circus), they open up to him and they confess? And he does the same?

Flower Language

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Robin x Reader

Warnings: Blood and injuries and plant death.

Word Count: 3.8k words

A/N: This is kind of my take on the Hanahaki disease, kind of. This was so much fun to write honestly, I didn't realize I like all this floral stuff so much. It also reminded me of another 'True Love's Kiss' trope I wrote for Dick Grayson as well. Also I changed the episode this was based on because I’ve already done something based on the episode with Haly’s circus @hanbedumbaf I really really really hope you enjoy it! Sorry it was so late, I finished it a month back but it was in my queue.

Adrenaline was a common feeling to you. A little too familiar. The life of a superhero puts you in peril more times than you would like but it was the only life you had known. You knew the familiar feeling of sweat forming on your skin and your heart pounding so loudly that you could hear it in every step you took.

However, when you heard the pounding, it was because there was a supervillain, usually hairy, chasing after you and determined to get your head on a stake.

Although, feeling your heart jump to your throat was becoming more familiar whenever you were around a certain someone. Robin annoyed you to no end, whenever he was around you couldn't help your face from growing warm and your lips from tingling to form a permanent smile on your face.

Having a crush was irritating, you couldn't think or even function without thinking of him. It was frankly humiliating, you were always so gung-ho about being bold and to the point and yet whenever you were around Boy Wonder, you couldn't help but bend your personality to something you felt like would appeal to him more.

Sometimes, you couldn't even stand yourself.

And so, as a pathetic act of rebellion, and maybe as a clear-cut sign that you had no idea how to handle emotions or anything similar to it, every time your heart got just a little soft, your tongue got a whole lot sharper. Probably not the best way to win a boy’s heart. But you weren't here for a romance story.

It was also a true sign that you had no idea how to flirt, thinking that borderline insulting witty banter was the way to go. Or perhaps it was a way of controlling your emotions, since being bitter and snarky was the thing that came easiest to you.

You seriously needed better tactics.

It was also your oblivious mistake thinking that Robin only saw what you wanted him to see. He was raised to be a detective, of course he was more observant than that. Papa (or let's be real, Alfred) didn't raise no fool.

You made the mistake of thinking Robin saw you as strong and independent and bold, just as the rest of them did. But he saw much more than that.

Robin was distressed by the number of crying faces around him, the kids were inconsolable which was understandable because of just how many things went wrong in the past couple of hours. To be quite frank, Robin was a couple seconds away from having a fit himself.

"Shh, little one," He heard distantly and his neck practically snapped. You were crouching in front of the few who were crying, with a small nurturing smile. It was the first time he had seen you out of uniform, usually referring to you as Antheia, named after the goddess of flowers, but this wasn't she.

"I know you're scared, my flowers, but I promise, we will find your parents." You soothed, gently wiping away their tears. They still looked up at you apprehensively and with uncertainty.

"I'll show you a magic trick." You began, grinning as the kids began to smile back at you. You pulled a seed out of your pocket and held it between closed hands, using a bit of your powers and felt it grow in your palms. When you revealed what you were holding, they collectively gasped.

A bud of a flower now rested in your hand. You smiled at their innocent eyes and held it to them, "Now I'm going to need your help for the next part. Everyone has to blow on the flower."

They nodded eagerly, crawling around you and on the count of three, everyone followed your instructions. And low and behold, the bud bloomed into a beautiful blossom right between your fingers.

One of the girls clamoured into your lap to hold the flower herself and you chuckled, wrapping your arms tightly around her, "You know what this flower means?"

They shook their heads, "It means faith, and hope. If you have faith and hope in us, then you'll get something beautiful in return."

For once, they look contemplatively and you chuckled, feeling pride at the fact that you managed to sow some wisdom in their minds. The girl that had been sitting in your lap turned in your grasp, with the flower in her hand and then reached up to tuck it behind your ear.

"For me?" She nodded happily and you smiled widely, kissing her cheek, "Thank you, petal."

Satisfied that you were able to calm them down, you gently placed the girl back on the floor before moving away from the group. Just as you were about to join the others, you ran into Robin. You didn't know he had just seen the whole thing.

Pulling the flower from behind your ear, you handed it to him, "You know in some cultures, this flower means to pick up the slack and stop looking like a confused chicken." You snapped.

Business as usual.

Robin looked back to the flower you had slipped into his hands, you had said it meant faith and hope, and you had given it to him. He looked back up to see you shuffling away from him quickly, a blush on your face. He smiled.

You were more nurturing and kinder than you let on, it was like it was programmed into your personality and yet you never showed it when you knew they were watching. That wasn't the only part of yourself that you were hesitant to show them.

And the more Robin observed you, the more he realized that you used flower language to depict a lot of your emotions. It was a silent way of letting them out, without having to tell other people what's really in your heart.

You thought you were sly about it, but nothing went under Robin's radar.

Everyone was watching a movie on the flat screen in the rec room. You hadn't realized you were so tired, the movie was boring, something that M'Gann had picked and you hadn't slept the night before, busy patrolling your city.

Your eyelids began to droop before you could even understand what was going on, your head lolling as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

Robin hadn't realized that he was napping through the movie until he felt a weight on his shoulder. He nearly jumped awake and glanced to his side to see you sound asleep, breathing gently. He nearly chuckled, was this what you looked like when you weren't scowling at everybody?

His heart skipped a beat, god, were you beautiful. The smell of flowers vaguely hit his nose and he noticed the red gardenia plant growing steadily in the corner of the room.

'Red Gardenias means a secret love,' Robin recalled from a book he had read, 'It's a secret way for someone to say I love you.'

He glanced back at you still sleeping peacefully, face completely relaxed and briefly wondered if your powers were taking the lead on your emotions and making gardenias grow around the cave. Or were you dreaming about something?

Something in his heart grew, here you were sleeping against his shoulder, making symbols of a secret love grow around the room. This had to be a sign of something, right?

Before he could contemplate it any further, you squirmed and then began to stir. Your eyes fluttered open, hazily taking in your surroundings before they landed on the boy beside you and widened in size, skin darkening with a blush.

"Why the fuck didn't you wake me up?" You snapped and turned on your heel to stomp out of the room without even waiting for a response from him. The others who noticed the way he was just staring at the place you were in surprise. You always do such a 180 when you're around him and conscious.

"Wow, sunshine's crabby in the morning." Wally commented from beside him. When he didn't get any response, he looked over to see Robin with a silly smile on his face.

Dick couldn't stop himself from grinning. The gardenias were still blooming.

***

"Antheia, do you think you will be able to stop the plants from growing any further?" Batman turned to face you, only to find you staring at him with a hazy, blank expression.

"Antheia?" Robin called but you didn't even flinch, your eyes were locked onto the holo-computer, seeing the thick vines that were twisting and turning. Their call was overwhelming, you could feel them grow even beneath your feet. It was like a siren was blearing through your head.

You couldn't tell what they were trying to say, it was like they were muffled. It was confused and lost, following Ivy and it was happy listening to her. And yet, it was feeling pain, the Justice League was busy pruning her as we speak. It was scared, crying out for someone to help them and you felt obligated to help. Your mind was getting heavy, throbbing with an oncoming migraine.

"(Y/N)!" Your eyes snapped open and focused onto the boy in front of you. Everyone was staring at you in concern and you blinked, suddenly not able to remember what the hell was going on. You were just trying to focus on something other than the screams and cries of the plant.

"......What?" You asked a little dumbly, noticing the concern on Robin's face. The plants were still crying. You couldn't get the painful sound of their screams out of your mind. You felt like curling up into a ball and crying.

"Batman asked if you would be able to stop the plants?"

"Oh, um, no." You answered in a distracted way that made his face pinch with worry. His hands were still grasping your shoulders tightly, keeping his face in close proximity to yours. You didn't even realize, too out of it to even notice.

Robin on the other hand felt his cheeks get uncomfortably hot the more you stared at him with those innocent, beautiful eyes of yours. If Batman hadn't been breathing down his neck, he was sure he would've kissed you in the moment.

Unfortunately for him, his dad always knew how to ruin the moment. And he would continue to for the rest of his life. Until death do them part. Even after the two of you grow up and live together, the Batman would find some way to interrupt your fun.

"Robin?"

"Huh?"

"The mission."

Oh. Right.

***

"Robin!" You screamed when one of Ivy's plants wrapped around his neck and slammed him against the trees. They didn't let up curling tighter around his throat. Fear struck you as he began choking from breath and you knew you had to do something.

Suddenly murderous intent took over you and you glared at Ivy who returned it with a smug smirk of her own. Oh, how you'd rip that smirk off her face.

"Okay Ivy, you wanna play? Let's play." You ground out, slamming your hands against the vine around Robin's neck and it began disintegrating beneath your fingers. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath and you tuned out the sound of the plant crying as it died beside him.

Ivy heard it just as loudly as you had, she screamed and more plants lunged towards the both of you.

"Go help the others! I'm about to snap this twig." You spat at Robin, using your powers to kill the roots as it reached you. It was working slowly, your powers weak to the pain of the plants around you. Even as every cell of your body told you not to, you clenched your fingers into fists and watched as the creeper feel to the marsh, dead.

You engaged in battle with Ivy. Plants were screaming for mercy all around you but you couldn't stop for even a second. Life around you was trembling but you had to keep fighting the villain in front of you because if you hesitated for even a second, many more would die.

Thorns scratched your skin, drawing blood and curled around Ivy, sinking barbs into her skin.

"Face it girlie! You're never going to overpower me!"

"Oh, I'm not trying to overpower you, just distract you long enough for Robin to get rid of the control system." You replied, just as smug as she had been at the start of the fight. Now you got to see her face melt into one of panic just as Robin jumped over her head and to your side with a grin identical to yours.

"Cover your ears!" He sang, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and ducking, covering your body with his own. You were grateful for it; you weren't sure you could even keep your body upright at the moment.

Then you heard the explosion and your heart stopped. Every single fibre of your body burned red hot fire as you heard screams and cries around you. Bile was crawling up your throat and your breathing got thin. They were sobbing a heart-broken wail and your eyes misted at the mere sound.

Without realizing it, you were gripping onto Robin's hand, brows furrowed together. The sound of the explosion cleared, the Injustice League was captured and he pulled you up to stand with the others.

It was silent for a moment. You had won.

And then the consequences of your actions hit you.

Everyone's necks snapped towards you when you let out a heart-wrenching sob. Robin, who was standing right next to you caught you just in time before your body hit the ground. Pain exploded in your chest as you began wailing against him.

"(Y/N)? (Y/N)! What's wrong?!" He panicked but you didn't respond, crying into his chest as you gripped his cape in an iron fist. Everything hurt and all you could feel was sorrow and guilt.

The other heroes crowded around you but your eyes were screwed shut, tears making your eyes sting. Robin held onto you tightly, pulling your body against his as you continued to cry.

"What's happening?" Artemis murmured, looking around to see the environment change before her eyes. Everyone else followed her lead to see how leaves began rotting, then the trees. The smell was pungent. Thorns and weeds were crawling up the dying trees, pulling them into the swamp.

"(Y/N) please, what's wrong?" Robin whispered in your ear but you couldn't hear him. The sounds of plants screaming and wailing was echoing through your mind. How they begged you to save them. How they begged you to stop.

And then it got hard to breathe, your chest constricted and you were wheezing. Robin had to watch in horror when petals and blood poured from your mouth. You were choking, throwing up and sobbing in his arms, and he was unable to do anything to help you.

"Flash get her to the Batcave." Batman said gruffly, he was shocked and worried for you but didn't say anything, not wanting to scare his son more, "Sending you the coordinates now."

"Alfred prepare the med-bay."

Dick watched with a sinking heart as he handed you into Flash's arms. It took him a few seconds for his mind to stop whirring, he was still kneeling in the swampy marsh when the team huddled around him.

"It's gonna be okay." Wally murmured, wrapping an arm around his shaking body.

"We just have to hope for the best."

***

When the others had gotten back to the Cave, you had just been moved there, after being looked over by Alfred. He joined you in the med-bay, wanting to keep an eye on you. But as of yet, you still had to wake up.

Dick wasn't supposed to be listening to the adult’s conversation, but he couldn't help himself, he had to know if you were going to be okay.

"The situation is undeterminable, sir. But as of now, the flowers that are clogging her respiratory system keep growing. If we don't find a cure for this, it's inevitable that she will suffocate and pass."

His heart stopped. Die? You couldn't die, not when he still had so many things to tell you. For so long, he hadn't told you of his feelings, wanting to keep the relationship between the two of you professional. But now more than anything, he wished he had said something.

There were so many things he didn't get to do with you yet. You had yet to give him a bouquet on your first date. He wanted to lay in bed with you, smelling fresh flowers as you told him what different plants symbolized. He had yet to see moments where you can't control your powers and make plants grow around the cave.

He hadn't even given you a flower yet.

"Rob listen, I did some research on this 'disease'." Wally said, falling into step with him, "It's called the Hanahaki disease."

"That's fiction Wal—"

"But that's the best we've got right now." Came his curt reply and Dick's heart clenched.

"Hanahaki disease is a fictional sickness that only occurs when someone is suffering from unrequited love. The victim will cough up flower petals that symbolize their love. This disease is only cured when the victim's feelings are romantically returned." Wally read off his phone before turning to Dick with a smile.

He raised a brow, "What?"

"You have to kiss (Y/N)!"

"What!?"

"Yep! You have to return her unrequired love!"

"Wally that's ridiculous, kissing someone doesn't cute anything."

"Well, it's the only thing we have. And for (Y/N), we need to try anything." He said, pushing him towards the med-bay. His voice was tight and tense, like he was holding onto his as his last hope and Dick prayed that it would work when the door of your room came into his sight.

You were asleep and if he hadn't known any better, he would've thought you were healthy. Wally closed the door behind him, leaving Dick alone with you. The only sound in was the beeping from your heart monitor and your light wheezing. It was getting harder to breathe.

Dick inched his way closer to you, watching as your eyelashes fluttered gently in your sleep. Leaning over the bed you were lying in; he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before moving his head in line with yours.

"God, please let this work." He whispered and your bottom lip was caught between his. It was feather-light but yet, electricity was buzzing through his veins and fireworks went off in his mind.

For a minute, nothing happened and his heart clenched in his chest before he kissed you a little harder. This had to work because they didn't have any other lead. Dick felt you exhale feebly against him and he almost gave up hope.

But then you took a deep breath, stealing the breath from his lungs and he pulled away quickly to see your eyelids fluttering open. The colour was returning to your cheeks and your eyes were sparkling up at him. You smiled gently and he blinked away tears of relief. Thank goodness.

'His eyes are blue' You thought, staring deeply into them. They were beautiful, alluring. You didn't know why but just looking into his eyes was addicting. Was this what it felt like to be so deep in love? That even his eyes were enough to captivate you?

"I'm so glad you're awake." He muttered, cupping your cheeks firmly and planting another kiss on your lips. You giggled lightly, heart overjoyed to find the boy you had been in love with for so long had returned your feelings and you responded to the kiss eagerly, placing your palms over his hands and leaning into him.

With your regaining strength, you felt a flower materialize in your hands. The stem between your fingers brought you comfort just as the scent of the flower brought you back life.

When Dick pulled away, you delicately slipped it into his hands and he turned his attention to it, blue eyes softening when he recognized this particular flower in his hands.

"It's an Aster." You whispered quietly, lips brushing against his and he chuckled. It was the only flower you thought of when he came to your mind, "Get it?"

Dick turned his eyes away from the blossom and looked at you again. Your heart jumped, noticing just how much love he held in them. Eyes you could swim in, overflowing with love for you. Suddenly you were overwhelmed, feeling adoration and attraction. You needed to be closer to him, even though he was pressed against you.

Your fingers curled into his collar and pulled him closer to you, slanting your lips over his in an open-mouthed kiss. Dick gasped against your lips, startled for no longer than a second before sinking against you and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

Your lips moved gently against his, the blushing flower trapped between both your bodies. The smell of fresh flowers clouded Dick's mind with everything that was you. Your hair, your smile, your lips. If you kept kissing him like that, he was certain he'd forget his own name.

And then you pulled away and Dick noted that you were as beautiful as a fresh flower. Your skin was glowing with life and your tired eyes were twinkling. You smiled sleepily at him, eyes closing shut and he lowered you back to the bed. Immediately, you slipped back into slumber, exhausted from the day's events.

He watched for a couple seconds, making sure you were able to breathe without any problems before realizing he should tell the others that you were okay.

He slipped out of the room quietly, stealing a final glance of you sleeping peacefully in the bed and a huge smile grew on his face, "She's awake."

It was only then he noticed just how colourful the room had gotten in the few minutes he was with you.

The walls were covered with vines and roses of different colours, camelias and carnations of different shades. It littered the room, not leaving a single inch of the wall untouched and scattered petals all over the floor like confetti.

Different creepers hung from the ceiling, dusting all the superheroes with sparkling pollen and colourful petals. Not to mention there were stems crawling up the Justice League members, flowers hugging their ankles lovingly.

Batman looked a lot less intimidating with petals in his cape and a rose stuck behind his ear. Robin blushed at the sight of everyone giving him knowing smiles.

"We noticed."

Aster: This flower became a symbol of love when in Greek mythology it was placed on the altars for the gods. So now, when you send a bouquet featuring this vibrant bloom, the message of "Take Care Of Yourself For Me" is implied. It conveys deep emotional love and affection for someone.

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

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wallwriterstuff · 4 years

Note

Am I allowed to place in a request for Mr svelte tracker boi Demetri? I need my greek boi fix. 😅😂 My stimming (due to my slight autism and anxiety) has been kinda bad lately and I was wondering if you could do some headcanons on how he would be with a reader who has that going on? (For example, some of my stimming signs are restless, uncontrollable finger twitches sometimes, and sudden limb movements and facial twitches I can't control 😅) Thanks! Also, sorry if this is too touchy a subject!🙈

You most certainly are allowed and I cannot express how hard I fangirled when I realised it was you in my ask box. I played it very cool but just know I was dying inside from the moment I saw your username come up XD

TW: Mentions of anxiety and sensory overload. If that’s a little personal to you please be cautious about reading this one!

I’m incapable of writing short things it seems so it’s another long one.

Self-stimulating behaviour, known more commonly as stimming, usually involves repetitive movements and/or sounds. Though it is most often associated with autism (I know when I first saw the word stimming that was where my mind immediately went to) everybody stims in some way, shape or form to relieve stress, tension, anxiety, boredom etc. Some ways are less noticeable than others such as nail biting or finger tapping, while others can be more obvious and disruptive to your social/daily life like licking certain objects or scratching at skin.

I learned all this from doing a bit of reading before taking on this request and if you want to know more then the link to the article I read is right -----> HERE <------ ! It’s informed my ideas for this headcanon request and though I’m open to discussions about the topic to help educate myself and anyone else who wishes to learn more, what I will not tolerate is any sort of hate or discrimination based on the links to developmental disorders and mental illness that stimming has. This blog has and always will be a safe space for anyone and everyone and a little respect for one another will help keep it that way. Be kind folks!

So without further ado, how would Demetri react to you stimming I wonder?

Part 1: Headcanons below the Keep Reading Line Part 2: Teeth (fic) Part 3: Control (fic)

· He honestly wouldn’t really notice for a while because, well, humans aren’t exactly designed to be as flawless as vampires

· Impromptu nosebleeds, migraines, sneezes…they’re just glitches in a faulty system so why is the way your leg just bounced up off of the floor while your sitting any different to those other equally as involuntary things

· He’s struggling right now to, after all he just met his very human mate and it’s quite overwhelming for him to have to adapt to all these new feelings and situations he finds himself in, but he deals because he can

· Some days, you just…can’t

· Getting attacked by a man with some bizarre fascination with your neck is bad enough but being whisked away by strangers is somehow even worse. At least in the first scenario once it’s over it’s over, now you’re just living an anxious person’s nightmare in a new place full of new people

· Volterra was beautiful, but it wasn’t home. No cosy apartment, no neighbours cat to feed, no monotonous shifts at work…

· Actually, most of the time you’re left utterly alone to navigate an unfamiliar castle, and the times you aren’t alone is when there’s a man claiming to be your eternal lover in front of you

· Try to convince me this man doesn’t rip the band aid off and profess his love for you with dramatic flair just TRY

· Your days are filled with endless boredom where you’re doing nothing at all until someone checks on you, and then fight or flight kicks in because oh HELLO Mr Vampire guard are you here to give me lunch or kill me?

· Demetri had thought that perhaps you were okay with that, since you hadn’t really outwardly reacted beyond the way your cheek twitched up into a smirk once or twice as he spoke. Hell, you’d even winked at him…right?

· You did that a lot so he really genuinely thought that maybe you were just trying to flirt with him, build a relationship with him. Your constant little winks and the way your fingers twitched when he was nearby, like you so desperately wanted to reach out to him…

· It took a few weeks before he realised how wrong he was

· You’d reached for a sip of water and your arm had just whipped outward from your body

+ You’d absolutely drenched him with your entire glass of water and could only stare in abject horror wondering what the supposed vampire would do next, since you’d interrupted him rather smugly detailing his plans for your first date

· Silence

· There was just silence

· It only made your anxiety worse and the muscles in your face just spasmed without your permission and - god did you just smirk at him again, oh no

+ “I’m glad one of us finds this amusing. If you did not like the idea there were other ways to tell me so.”

· You almost want to cry from sheer embarrassment at this point because the date really had sounded like it could be fun and now you’d just straight up thrown water in his face like he’d insulted you in the worst way imaginable

· So you come clean and tell him about your stimming

· He’s really worried at first because autism? Anxiety he’s heard of but autism sounds very dangerous, are you dying? You’re probably dying. He’s going to lose his mate –

· Another involuntary finger twitch from you forces him to calm down because your anxious enough without his worrying on top, so he kind of brushes it off and makes no big deal out of it

· Squeezes your hand and kisses your forehead to try and reassure you all is forgiven, even if he does have to go change a very expensive looking designer shirt and god you’re so sorry

· Of course, that kind of makes it worse for you because anxiety brain is activated and your 99.9999% sure he’s actually furious with you still and has only pretended to forget it while he’s plotting his revenge

· You see him late at night when you struggle to fall and stay asleep, reading in the low lamplight at his desk across the room, his laptop propped open and a notebook before him but you’re too scared still to ask what it is he’s reading so intently (probably good suggestions on places to bury your body welp)

· It’s a complete surprise to you therefore when he does take you out on that date he promised you not two weeks later

· He’s chosen a nice overcast day so he’s in the least conspicuous clothing he owns

+ Demetri’s least conspicuous clothes still consist of the most chic and expensive brands you know of and he sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the quaint little market stalls he’s brought you to see

· Despite the gloomy weather the people of Volterra are out in full force though, swarming the market stalls and chattering and laughing as flashes of gold and silver from jewelry hit your eyes, bright coloured fabrics following

· It’s all just too much

· There’s people everywhere and so much noise, so many colours and lights and people brushing past you…

· Your fingers clench tight around his, his hand immersed in a glove to keep his freezing skin from chilling you too much

· He squeezes back lightly, eyes shifting to glance down at you with the kindest smile on his lips

+ “Keep squeezing my hand whilst we find somewhere quieter to stand.”

· Your fingers seemed to take turns pressing into his rock solid skin, an odd sort of comfort coming from the fact you know you can press down hard and he won’t so much as register the sensation, and Demetri squeezes back, just firm enough he knows you can feel the pressure of his palm on yours

· He takes you to a quiet little side road where the noise is much more faded and there is so much free space around you you feel like you can finally breathe again

· He still hasn’t stopped squeezing your hand, taking turns with you as you take some steady breaths and try to focus your senses a bit, one thing you can feel, two things you can see, three you can smell...

· “I hope you can forgive me, I did not expect the market to be so busy today with the weather like this.”

· His apology takes you completely by surprise because how would he even know you struggled with crowds? You barely know each other?

· Seeing your surprise Demetri rather sheepishly admits as to what exactly he’s been reading all those nights you’ve seen him at his desk, and you’re a little overwhelmed to realise he’s been reading about you

· Medical journals, mummyblogs, charity websites and more, if it had any information about autism and stimming he’s browsed through it and taken copious amounts of notes, observing you religiously to see what might be relevant to you and how he can help · + “I read somewhere you self-stimulate to calm yourself when you are anxious or your senses feel overwhelmed, is that what happened?” “Well, yes, actually, I…I…”

“And did it help? Taking you away from the source of stress and letting you squeeze my hand like that?”

· It had actually, you felt much calmer and Demetri’s obvious acceptance and willingness to help you manage your stimming and anxiety today were one of the first little moments you fell in love with him, looking back on it

· He didn’t stop there either. Together you sat down and made a list of all the things that you found most often triggered your stimming, and all of the things that brought you joy so he could figure out things to avoid and things you might like for your future dates

· Within hours of arriving home you’d gotten a whole new daily routine set up so you weren’t left to languish and wonder what was going to happen next

· Three days later an express shipment of your favourite smelling scented candles arrived alongside a Bluetooth speaker, supplies Demetri insisted were necessary for nice calming baths on the days your anxiety was playing up

· He started doing mindfulness practices with you in the evenings

· He never touched the volume controls for his laptop, speaker or TV, leaving it to you to control the volume so you could set it to a level you were comfortable with, and he religiously policed the noise on his floor to + “Where are you going? The movie just started…” “To tell Felix to turn his music down.” “You’re vampiring again Metri, I can’t even hear that.”

· When he signed you up for Yoga and meditation classes at a centre in town you drew the line and told him he was going overboard, but bless him he had tried

· Overall he’s a solid 15/10 for effort, even if some ideas are still experimental - you’re enjoying the deep pressure massages a lot though – and he sometimes goes a bit mother-hen trying to get you out of situations he thinks you’ll struggle with, when actually you’re coping just fine today

· You love him dearly for it

#twilight #twilight headcanon #demetri volturi #volturi headcanon #stimming #autism #tw anxiety #tw sensory overload #the volturi #twilight fanfiction #I tried my best so I hope this is okay #Demetri is totally the type to go overboard and try absolutely anything to make you comfortable

119 notes · View notes

clockotea · 4 years

Text

Chain Thoughts

Words- 4096

Warnings- Read below. Dissociation, depression.

Ships- Slight Purly.

Notes- Okay yeahhhhhhhhhhh. I didn’t proof read this or edit it. I just wanted it done, because I like concept of this headcanon, however I don’t have motivation to edit. If you see some problems with spelling, grammar or whatever, I apologize. I’ll edit it later. I went through moments like Ponyboy does in this when I was younger and there are times where I still do. I’ve been busy with school so this took me awhile, and now we are going back on wednesdays so I won’t have that much time to write. I also rushed the ending :( I’m thinking about writing about if Ponyboy got put into a boy’s home. SO YEAH

-Ally-Lx

Headcanon- This headcanon belongs to @chaotically-cas

“When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home.”

It didn’t make sense. There were seven days in a week. So, why did Ponyboy only remember waking up 5 out of the seven days? Ponyboy pushes his potatoes to the side with his spoon. His other hand rubs his chain between his fingers. All he remembers was an argument with Darry before falling into a daze.

“What’s the matter with you, Ponyboy? Normally you would be stuffin’ your face.” Says Soda with a mouth full.

“What? Were you raised in a barn, little man?” Scolds Darry. Soda smirks and nods his head. Darry glares daggers at Soda. He slaps him in the back of the head, causing him to choke. Soda swallows this chicken and points his fork at Darry. He says some funny threat making Darry chuckle, but Ponyboy couldn’t process it. Ponyboy rubs his forehead where a migraine was starting to form.

“Ponyboy.” Darry’s voice breaks him out of his trance.

“Hm?”

“Mrs. Rutt called today.” He crosses his arms, expecting Ponyboy to explain why.

“Darry, just get to it.”

“She says you have 6 missing assignments.”

Darry didn’t have bad grammar skills, like the rest of the greasers. He didn’t cut his ing’s short. He didn’t round his vowels, either. It was considered formal until the rest of the gang was there. Even then, his speech was formal.

How did I forget about the 6 assignments?

“Ponyboy, you can’t just go running off forgetting about your homework.” States Darry. His face seemed to be made out of stone. The light draped over him like a cloth, creating perfect shadows that outlined his muscles.

“I wasn’t- that’s not it-”

“Oh, cut him some slack, dare-bear,” Darry grumbles at his nickname. “It’s not like you have never had a late assignment.”

Ponyboy grabs his plate. He goes to put the food into a container.

“You haven’t been excused.”

“I didn’t realize I was eating with the president.” He sneers back.

“Yeah, well, you better sit your ass down.” Ponyboy freezes to see if Darry takes action.

“Ponyboy, hand me your plate. I’ll finish your food.” Soda says, breaking the silence. He nods and hands the glass plate to Soda.

“I’m going to go do those assignments.” Ponyboy whispers hoarsely. He fidgeted with his chain looking for approval from Darry. Darry sighs and nods.

IT WAS ONLY THE START

What am I doing? Ponyboy looks around. It didn’t feel real to be walking to the dingo in these jeans. Where am I going? Ponyboy looks around. The sun was dipping below the horizon yet beaming down on him. Ponyboy’s hair had turned a reddish-brown in the sunlight. The grease in his hair reflected against the sunlight.

Think, C’mon Ponyboy. Think. What do you remember last? Last night, he and Darry had gotten into an argument. It was about how he managed school work. The entire gang was there. He brought up how Ponyboy had 6 missing assignments. Steve had chimed in and said that Ponyboy had skipped class. It wasn’t that big of a deal. I’m ahead in that class. But the argument had gotten blown out of proportion when Two-Bit said he saw him and Curly hanging out. It was bad when Darry said he didn’t want Curly around Ponyboy alone, but when he said he didn’t want them together at all, Ponyboy couldn’t help but argue back.

‘Ponyboy.” Ponyboy snaps his head to the voice. Hair slicked back... leather jacket… mickey shirt… boots… rust color hair… grey eyes. Two-bit.

“You alright, Pony?” He holds the door open.

“Yeah. I’m good.” Lies Ponyboy. He felt as if he had taken a huge step off a cliff, into a cold pool of water. It made him feel cold and as if he was on autopilot.

He takes a step up into the crisp air. The sound of chatter. The smell of what? The smell of fries. Warm red-colored booths. The pale floor seemed to gleam under the neon blue sign above the menu. He scans the room to see who Two-bit would be hanging out with. Ponyboy blinks as he makes his way to Johnny Cade beside Two-bit. Johnny nods his head at Pony. The seats crack under the weight of Ponyboy. Two-bit smiles.

“Hey, Ponyboy. What you doin’ walkin’ all your lonesome?” Johnny asks, clearing his throat.

“I saw him standing outside looking around like a doof,” Laughs Two-bit. “So, he’s just being his regular self.”

All of Ponyboy’s doubt seems to drip away the more Two-bit teases him. Ponyboy makes snarky comments back as Johnny scans his eyes over Ponyboy. Johnny shakes his head and messes with his jacket.

“Alright, guys. Enough,” Chuckles Johnny. “Ponyboy walking around alone is just asking for you to get jumped.”

Two-bit smirks mischievously, “Aw, c’mon Johnny. Ponyboy is tough. He can take on 5 socs at once.” Ponyboy smiles.

Johnny shakes his head, “I just don’t want what happened to me to happen to him,”

“As I said, he can handle any soc. The only person he cannot handle is me.”

“Oh yeah?” Smirks Ponyboy.

“Yeah!” Two-Bit slams his elbow on the table. “Let’s go. I’m stronger than 10 of you”

“Let’s find out!” Ponyboy slams his palm into Two-bit’s.

The two boys arm wrestle until they are red in the face. Johnny laughs at how they struggle and refuse to give up. They didn’t want their pride to be damaged. The 3 boys ate fries that were too salty. Two-bit would eat their fries instead of his, letting his fries go cold. Ponyboy sipped his Pepis as Johnny messed with the whipped cream on his milkshake. It wasn’t until Two-bit brought up Ponyboy’s curfew did they get up to leave. Ponyboy felt as if everything in the world was right. He was smiling and laughing. Everything was right until they got home. Then it feels as if Ponyboy was in the pool of water again and drowning.

Why is it only happening to me?

Ponyboy flipped over to his stomach. Darry had told him to get up 30 minutes ago. Ponyboy used to be an early bird. He would wake up and sneak out onto the roof to watch the sunset. His mom would come up with him and sit with him. It was a time where Ponyboy was comfortable. It was a time when he felt safe and didn’t have to worry about Darry throwing him into a boy’s home.

What was the point of getting out of bed, when no matter what you do, it irritates people? He already knew how Steve felt about him. Dallas barely talked to him. He was always out messing around. They often thought of him as a kid.

Ponyboy softly runs his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t feel angry or sad that the gang thought of Ponyboy like that. It made sense. Am I really that annoying? I don’t mean to be. Ponyboy sighs. He didn’t want to get out of bed, it was too warm and comfortable. It’s the only place I can’t screw up.

The door swings open and slams with a crash. Ponyboy rolls his eyes with annoyance. His back was warm, and felt as he was laying in a hay stack. He shifts uncomfortably.

“Ponyboy?” calls out Whos voice is that? Dallas.

“Hm, Yeah?” whines Ponyboy. Dallas walks in. His hair was flowing all over. His jean jacket looked stiff, the buttons raddled against his chain. Dallas’s pants dipped into every crevice everytime he moved. He raises his eyebrow at the fact that Ponyboy is still in bed.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you when you are having personal time.” He says chuckling.

“C’mon Dallas, tease me all you want. Just don’t tell Darry that I’m still in bed,” mutters Ponyboy. Dallas presses his lips into a thin line. The bed dips into Dallas’s favor as he stares at Ponyboy, as if he had just spoken a random language to him.

“You mean to tell me that Ponyboy Curtis hasn’t left bed all morning?” He questions.

“No sir,” Says Ponyboy into his pillow. Dallas whistles and continues to stare at him. Dallas smelled of booze, metal, and cigarettes. Dallas pulls a cigarette from his pocket. He flicks a match against the box and lights it up.

“Aw, c’mon Dal, you know Darry will kill me if he smells cancer-stick smoke in me and Soda’s room.” Ponyboy sits up and glares at Dallas. His hair falls over his forehead and partly in his eyes. He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back lightly. The sunlight reflects in his eyes.

“Ponyboy, you feelin’ alright?.” He asks, puffing smoke out of his mouth. The smoke coats the room in a thin layer, of the gray, toxic, cloud.

No, something is wrong

“Yeah, just thought today was supposed to be a lazy day.” Ponyboy states.

“Well, not anymore!” He hollers. “Curly was practically begging me to give him Darry’s schedule so he can sneak in and talk to you. I couldn’t betray Darry’s trust that much, so I’m just going to take you to him.”

“So, he’s finally out of the cooler?” mumbles Ponyboy.

“He’s been out for a week. Just hasn’t had time to see you.” Dallas smiles at Ponyboy, like Curly not sparing time for him was funny. I wouldn’t spare time for me either. What was it that made Ponyboy sick to his stomach? The fact that it was summer break and Curly was “busy”, or the fact that he didn’t even come himself.

“Why didn’t you just bring him here?” Asks Ponyboy reaching for a shirt. He digs his fingers into the soft fabric of a black shirt. It was tossed to the side from last night, when it got too hot to keep it on.

“He’s busy with Tim. Said he’ll meet you there.”

Ponyboy slips the the shirt on. The feeling of being alone and disconnected was joining him again. Ponyboy sighs and rubs his forehead. He twists his chain in between his fingers. The cold, round, edge pushes down into Ponyboy’s skin. Dallas stands and pats his shoulder.

“Get ready,”

“I’m not going, Dallas,” Ponyboy whispers.

Dallas drops his gaze, “Oh, how come? Don’t want to disappoint Darry?”

Dallas goes to pinch Ponyboy’s cheeks, but Ponyboy catches his wrists.

“Screw off, Dallas.” He sneers.

“Oh, Jesus. I get you might get jealous about not seeing him, and you want to create a statement but-”

Maybe it would all stop if I gave up and listened to Darry.

“I don’t want to create a statement, Dally. I got enough stress on my back with me arguing with Darry. I can’t handle whatever crime he’s gonna’ get himself into when I’m around. It would make Darry furious”

“What’s the point of having rules if it ain’t for them to be broken.” Chuckles Dallas.

Ponyboy sighs and rubs his temples. It was getting harder and harder to process what he was saying, why he was mad, why he wanted to understand Darry.

“No, it would put stress on Darry. He has enough stress with me here.” He argues.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m starting to think you being put into a boy’s home would make it less stressful for Darry.” Chuckles Dallas. Dallas thought he was making a light-hearted joke. Something that was going to make Ponyboy chuckle, and he would get over it. Ponyboy couldn’t help but let everything take over. Before he knew it he was, so out of it, he didn’t know what they were arguing about.

“It would be… wouldn’t it?” Murmurs Ponyboy. Dallas’s eyes shoot up, trying to catch the emotion on Ponyboy’s face. Ponyboy’s eyes used to be warm summer green that would look grey in different lighting. They were kind of green that was warm and welcoming, like the green leaves that would grow on the tree’s Darry and Sodapop would climb when his parents were alive. Used too. All the stuff that made Ponyboy look like a kid was slowly fading.

“Hey, you know I ain’t mean that,” Chuckles Dallas. “It was a light-hearted joke.”

Ponyboy chuckles, “Yeah, I know. I’m still not going.”

“Alright… “ Ponyboy sits on the bed as Dallas closes the door behind him. Why was this feeling only happening to him? Why wasn’t it happening to Sodapop or Darry?

I tried, I really did.

Sodapop’s hands were warm compared to Ponyboy’s back. Ponyboy had been feeling colder ever since he stopped eating as much. He was sleeping in sweatpants, and hoodies trying to keep his body heat. Soda had slid his hands up his shirt and was rubbing his back just like their dad used to. Darry sat in the chair watching his brother comfort Ponyboy.

“Pony, are you alright?” questions Soda.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” Darry can’t help but bite his lip, a habit he picked up when he was nervous.

“You haven’t left our bed yet. Steve and I are going to a party. Do you want to join us?”

He’s a tag-along, Soda.

“No. I don’t want to be a tag-along and annoy you and Steve.”

“Ponyboy… You’re not a tag-along.” He whispers.

They sit in comfortable silence, waiting for the other to speak. Soda’s fingers trace over Ponyboy’s spine. He runs his nails all the way to where his pants start. Sodapop’s eyes fill with concern. Ponyboy shift’s to face Soda. His eyes were hazy and cold. His cheeks were no longer a soft red but a pale tone of peach. His lips weren’t a rose pink and curved into a smile. He looked tired, cold, and bored.

“Maybe you and Darry could go to the movie theater?” Suggest Sodapop.

“No, I don’t feel like it.”

“Ponyboy quit bein’ difficult. You can’t be lazy all day.”

“C’mon Darry, just leave him alone.” Says Soda.

“I would be going out and having fun if you allowed me to see Curly.”

“Is that what this is about. Are you acting this way over Curly?” Gasps Darry.

“I ain’t actin’ weird, and yes, I’m still angry about you banning me from seeing Curly.”

“Why, he ain’t that important.” Soda says softly. Steve walks in and leans on the door frame.

“I finally have a friend that’s my age and is my friend not because of my brothers, and then you banned me from seeing him.”

“... He’s not wrong, Darry.” Says Steve.

“He’s a bad influence!” scowls Darry.

“Yeah, and Dallas ain’t?” Ponyboy could feel the confusion in Soda. He knew it wasn’t just about Curly. Darry was picking up on Ponyboy’s body language and could tell. The reason why he was acting this way was not just about curly.

“Darry, Curly likes Ponyboy as a friend too. He asked why you didn’t sneak out to see him the other day.” Said Soda looking at his brother. His face was tight, and his hair was slicked back. He smelled of cheap cologne like he was going to impress Sandy.

“I didn’t want to sneak out because it would stress out Darry, but now that he knows that I was asked to sneak out to see him.” Ponyboy sits up and looks at Darry. “I’m askin’ kindly. Otherwise, I’m just gonna sneak out.”

“Ponyboy, you shouldn’t be speakin’ to your elders like that. Darry has done so much for you. Your lucky he didn’t send you to a boy’s home!” Sneer Steve. His patience was dwindling. Evie was waiting for Steve. She had called him and reminded him about how dolled up she was getting just for him. Why wouldn’t he want to rush to his beautiful girlfriend?

“Steve!” Hollers Darry.

“Yeah, and I bet he regrets not putting me in one.” Taunts Ponyboy. He stands up and walks out of his room. The wood creaks under his weight.

“Ponyboy, I ain’t gonna put you into a boys home!” Calls out Darry.

“Why not? You already suffer from the bills! Why should you worry about me!”

“Ponyboy!” Sodapop reaches for him. Ponyboy yanks his arm out of Sodapop’s hand. Ponyboy slips on his white converse. His feet fit perfectly in the soles of them. The shoe curve at the right places, cradling his feet as he runs out the door.

Where are my memories going?

The last thing Ponyboy remembers was storming out of the house. The next thing he knows, he’s sitting next to a curly hair boy. Curly had seen Ponyboy running off and went running after him. Curly basically tackled the skinny boy. He gripped his arm and pinned him. The fear that was in Ponyboy’s eyes made him worry. Curly watched as Ponyboy’s lips curved into a frown.

“Tell them before it gets worse.” Cuts in Curly.

“They won’t understand.” Chokes out Ponyboy.

“If I understood everything you said and I’m worried. Then your brothers will be worried.”

“Yeah, because Darry is just one brain cell smarter.” Snorts Ponyboy. Curly gives him a rough smirk. Curly watched as the sun reflected in Ponyboy’s eyes.

“Curly I-”

“No overthinkin’. just sit here in silence before you say some dumb shit.” Ponyboy grins at the sky. The silence covered the boys like a thick blanket. It made them feel safe and like they are in their own bubble. Ponyboy turned to Curly to admire his figure.

The grass caressed his cheek, and Curly’s smile softened. His body looked like it could’ve been shaped out of clay. His hair curled around the edges of his face. The grease in his hair was already starting to wear off, making his hair fling up. The sky paled yellow, then crimson, and with one deep breath, electric indigo.

Why aren’t they noticing?

Ponyboy woke in Darry’s arms. He had been thrashing around and screaming, trying to wake himself up. Darry’s grip tightens around the boy. Even though Ponyboy had awakened from the nightmare he was suffocating in, Darry didn’t let go. Darry’s arms felt as if they were melting the thin layer of ice on Ponyboy’s skin.

“ I got you.” Who? Who has me?

“I-I” Gasps out Ponyboy. His nails dig into Darry’s skin. The smell of sweat and wood.

“Who’s holding me? Who is holding me?” He whispers. Darry’s grip tightens on the fragile boy. His strong figure had gotten smaller. The damage of not eating as much as he used too was showing through. Although he was still stronger than most kids his age, Ponyboy struggled to get out of Darry’s arms.

“I need you to calm down.” Scowls Darry. Tears start streaming down his face. Ponyboy feel’s as if he’s back in the cold pool of water, and drowning. He gasps trying to let the air reach his air, but nothing could get through.

“No.. N-no,” Stutters Ponyboy. “I can’t remember who you are. Please, I can’t remember who you are.”

I don’t know who’s holding me. I don’t know where I am, and why I’m here. I don’t know my name.

“What? What are you talkin’ about?” Darry’s voice was laced with concern.

“I can’t even remember my name.” Cries out Ponyboy. He tries once again to push Darry’s arms away. Darry just pulls him closer.

“Ponyboy. Your name is Ponyboy,” Whimpers Darry. “I’m your brother, Darry.”

Ponyboy shakes his head and starts crying harder. He gave up on pushing away Darry. The entire house creaked, as the leaves scrapped on the outside of the house. Darry’s hands start shaking, they grip Ponyboy’s arms harder.

“Ponyboy-” Starts Darry. Ponyboy doesn’t feel like he is in his body. He feels as if he was floating around his body. It was cold and all he wanted was his parents. Aren’t they dead? To come get him, and wake him up. He wanted them to push him back into his body. Darry stops the questions when every time he asked, Ponyboy shakes his head no. He let the small boy fall asleep

It’s come to come home.

Ponyboy wakes up in Darry’s arms. It was soft whispers circling around him. Ponyboy could feel the goosebumps prickling on his skin. Are they going to send me to a boy’s home? Is there something wrong with me?

“So, let me get this straight, he didn’t remember you or his name?” Cuts in Sodapop’s slow and hoarse voice.

“Yes, Sodapop. That’s what I said.” Darry says harshly.

“I don’t know, Darry. He could’ve just been shocked from the nightmare… remember how he got them right after mom and dad died? They never really went away. The doctor just said he needs to run outta energy. He barely leaves our bed anymore. His nightmares could just be getting worse.”

“No, this was different, Sodapop. I wouldn’t be telling you if it wasn’t. I’m thinking about taking him to the doctor again.”

“No offense Darry, but can we even afford it? I care about Ponyboy too, but I don’t think we can afford it.” Whimpers Soda.

“No, I don’t think we can,” Whispers Ponyboy. Both Sodapop and Darry’s eyes trace over his figure. Ponyboy pushes Darry’s arm off of him. He sits up and flops on his stomach, away from the boys. The cold air hit his back. He felt as if he just go out of a sauna. “Plus, it was just another one of my nightmares. It’s no big deal.”

“No Ponyboy, this one was different. You couldn’t remember me or your name.”

“Just like Soda said, I was just in shock. It’s no big deal.”

“Ponyboy, it is a big deal. Please, let’s just take you to the doctor. I’ve already made the appointment.” Hisses Darry.

They are wasting money on me. Just because I’m sick if I could just suck it up.

“Darry, please. It’s not that big of a deal. Don’t take me to the doctors.” Ponyboy turns to his brother. He had changed for work. He wasn’t there. He called in sick. All because of me.

“Alright, so something is wrong,” Grumbles Sodapop. He sits up and grabs Ponyboy’s arm. “Pony, if nothing’s wrong explain everything. Why you’re acting weird, why you can’t get out of bed, why you look like you’re sick… why you are aggressive.”

It clicks in their heads. They both look at Ponyboy as if he was crying. Concern was written all over their faces. Sodapop’s grip loosens. They saw it in their mom after Ponyboy was born. Mothers get depressed because they lost a part of them. Ponyboy was depressed because he lost a big part of his life.

“Oh, Jesus Ponyboy. Why didn’t you tell us?” Asks Darry.

“Tell you what? God, you both don’t know when to mind your own business.” Ponyboy stands and walks out of the room. The house was quiet but he could hear Steve’s and Two-bits voices outside the door.

“That doesn’t explain why he’s forgotten things.” Mutters Sodapop. He trails after Ponyboy with Darry. Ponyboy opens the white refrigerator door. He scans the fridge for a coke.

“No, eat some real food.” Demands Darry.

“With some water. I can’t remember the last time you drank water.” Murmurs Sodapop.

Ponyboy sighs as he grapes a coke. He slams the door shut and turns to his brothers.

“Nothing is wrong with me.”

“No, nothing is wrong with you. However, you do need help handling emotions.” Says Darry calmly. Ponyboy scrunches his eyebrows together. He scoffs and opens the coke.

“What about emotions?” Calls out Steve. The door slams shut behind him, rattling the entire house. The floorboards creak under Steves’s weight.

“Steve, give us a second for ourselves goddammit!” Cries out Darry.

“No, Steve come in. I was just about to go to Curly’s.” Calls out Ponyboy. He lifts up his bottle to chug the rest of his drink. Darry pulls the drink out of Ponyboy’s hand.

“No, you’re not going to Curly’s. We’re taking you to the doctors or so help me Ponyboy-”

“No. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with me!”

“Your Ponyboy, lots of things are wrong with you,” Steve says chuckling.

“Steve, can you get out.” Says Ponyboy.

“Steve this is private.”

“Alright, alright. I get it.” Steve leaves the room leaving it to be silent.

“Ponyboy, just let us take care of you.” Whispers Darry. Darry runs his fingers through Ponyboy’s hair. His fingers glide through Ponyboy’s hair without any trouble. His hair didn’t have any grease in it. Ponyboy almost broke down there. He felt disconnected and helpless. Darry pulled him into his arms.

It’s been a few months since Ponyboy was diagnosed. He went to the movies to draw him out of his head. To protect him from his thoughts. When Ponyboy stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, he had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home.

They thought everything going on in Ponyboy’s head was horrible. They weren’t ready for what was going to happen.

#theoutsiders #ponyboy #staygold #curly shepard #the outsiders sodapop #darry curtis

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someonefantastic · 4 years

Text

If You Thought the Head Trauma was Bad…

More migraine Shawn and roommate stuff! Basically I headcanon that Shawn, Gus, and Juliet all lived in the loft together between s8 and the first movie. Also if you want more fics on Shawn and migraines, then feel free to check out my day 3 or @bijulesspookyohara's day 5. Shoutout to the folks of the psych discord, primarily @victoriantrashjohn for coming up with the concept and jackal switch for a lot of these migraine remedies. Oh and also @tonystarksspoopyhouseofkids because she drew this adorable pic of Shawn that inspired a scene in this. And shoutout to @chaosintheavenue for beta reading this! Summary: Shawn has a migraine. It's a good thing his best friend and his girlfriend are there to help. Warnings: migraines, nausea, ambulances ___ Shawn groaned as he snuggled deeper into the couch, barely even able to open his eyes. It had been an incredibly long day- he had spent most of it trying to infiltrate an illegal jewelry ring with little success, just another failure on his quest for Juliet’s engagement ring- and he was in the middle of a full blown migraine. He had seen it coming, recognized that the sharp pains in his brain and the small ripples of nausea could easily lead to later pain, but he had ignored it, instead letting the image of his girlfriend (fiancėe’s) elated face spur him to work harder.

And now he was suffering the consequences. No ring, no joyous girlfriend (fiancėe), just a massive, brain pounding, vision blurring migraine.

He sighed, pulling the fluffy blanket tighter around him. He was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, blanket over his head, its soft fabric enveloping him. A pair of child-sized kitty earmuffs were placed squarely on his temples while the sounds of 80s heavy metal filled the air. The shades had been drawn keeping the sun from invading- not that there was much on a rainy San Francisco evening- and the room was cast in a red glow, the source being a small red LED candle that Jules had bought him. It was cozy and nice and he could almost forget the incessant pain in his head.

There was a jiggling at the door and Juliet and Gus walked in, their loud joyous laughter causing him to wince. They paused, and he caught Juliet frowning as Gus walked over and collapsed into the armchair besides him.

Juliet’s hair was falling out of her half-ponytail, Gus’ tie was slipping from its knot, they smelled like coffee.

“Headache?” He asked, voice much quieter.

Shawn barely nodded, squeezing his eyes tight as sharp pains radiated through his skull.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Juliet’s soft voice spoke from his side. Warm fingers gently brushed his hair and he relaxed into her touch. “Did you take anything?”

His voice was strained, “Ibuprofen, a few hours ago.”

Gus spoke up, “He could take acetaminophen. It works differently than ibuprofen so it won’t cause any problems.”

“Perfect,” Her lips pressed against his forehead, “I’m going to go get changed and get you some meds.”

“Thank you,” He muttered, sad when she pulled away.

“Can you get me some too?” Gus asked, beginning to undo his tie, “My side is killing me.”

“Sure thing.”

After her small footsteps faded away, Shawn cracked an eye open. “What’s up with you?”

Gus frowned. “I pulled a muscle lifting boxes for that cute girl in marketing.”

His memory flashed back. A woman in blue, long black hair, Gus doing the thing with his nose. “Michelle?”

“Yeah… it was all for nothing, I overheard her talking about some dude named ‘Levi’.”

“Tough luck bud. That’s a solid name.”

“You know that’s right.”

Shawn’s eyebrows furrowed as he noticed Gus rubbing his side. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” He nodded, “Hey, where is the heating pad?”

Shawn jerked his head back, groaning as the motion caused the throbbing to double. That wasn’t his brightest idea. “Under Jules’ side of the bed. Just make sure to put it back when you’re done, she needs it for cramps.”

“Ah,” Gus nodded, standing up, “Sure thing.”

A stain on Gus’ pant leg, the carpet was rumpled, an empty can under the chair.

He shut his eyes tight again, trying to stop himself from noticing, an in vain attempt to ward off his abilities. Instead he flashed backwards, various images and memories jerking to the forefront of his mind, waves of nausea close behind.

His blue bouncy ball in fourth grade, divorce papers being signed, a bright smile on a beautiful blonde.

His jaw clenched, swallowing roughly as he tried to keep the contents of his stomach down. He leaned forward, trying to focus on the music around him. The beats moved in and out, giving him something to concentrate on.

“Babe?”

His eyes cracked open, the corner of his mouth turning up at the sight of his girlfriend (fiancėe). Her hair was now all the way down and she had pulled on his Thunderbirds sweatshirt. Even though she was only wearing the hoodie because it smelled like him, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride- after all, she usually refused to wear any football team’s merch aside from the Dolphins’.

“Here.” She handed him some pills and water which he promptly took, noting how Gus did the same.

The cool water felt nice but did little to soothe the ache in his head. “Thanks.” He frowned, noticing how her knuckles were bruised, “Did you get into a fight?”

“What?” She glanced at her hand, giving a good natured shake of her head at his abilities. “No- well, kind of. I was sparring with Sam and accidentally punched him square in the jaw.”

He chuckled, “That’s my girlfriend.” Not noticing how she frowned at the term.

Now that his eyes were open, his brain leaped back at the chance to pick up on things.

Small smudge of mascara under her right eye (probably missed it when washing her face), a few crumbs above Gus’ lips, dog hair on the hoodie sleeve.

He groaned as a sharp pain erupted in his head, vision blurring and stomach churning dangerously.

“Shawn?” Juliet’s voice was worried and he soon found her sitting next to him, guiding his head to her lap. She shushed him, beginning to run her fingers through his hair. “I need you to stop thinking, okay? Just focus on my hands.”

His eyes fluttered shut and he relaxed, allowing himself to fixate on her and only her. He felt warm and safe in her arms, her presence always serving to be a beacon in his crazy mind. Honestly he couldn’t imagine life without her, ever since he walked into that dinner nine years ago she had become a permanent staple in his life. He loved her so much it made his heart hurt. Even though the idea of marriage still terrified him, he knew deep down that he didn’t want to marry anyone else but her.

“I love you,” He muttered, reaching up to squeeze her hand.

“I love you too Shawn,” He could hear the soft smile in her voice, “Get some rest.”

He snuggled deeper, a small smile on his lips. Her hands would occasionally drift over to his temples, rubbing where the earmuffs weren’t situated. It was very calming and soon he felt sleep begin to overtake him.

Somewhere between Judas Priest and Holy Driver he heard a groan- and not from the music. It dragged him out of his sleep. Vision blurry and head foggy, he cracked open his eyes. The groan sounded again. He barely registered Juliet’s hand pausing it’s soothing motion and her concerned voice, instead his eyes were on his best friend. Gus was clutching his side, the color draining out of this face.

Jerking upright, he ignored how his head throbbed. “Gus? You okay?”

There was no answer as Gus’ eyes rolled back and he pitched forward, landing on the ground with a heavy thud.

“Gus!” Shawn and Juliet yelled in unison.

In a flash they were both at his side, Juliet’s fingers on his neck and his hand being held tightly by Shawn. “He’s still alive, I’ll call an ambulance.”

Memories flashed through Shawn while his mind burned.

A large crowd, pain in his side, sweating, collapsing, a white room.

He should have noticed sooner, should have seen the signs. If it wasn’t for his headache-

“I think his appendix burst.” He all but shouted, words tumbling out of his mouth. This was all his fault, he should have noticed, he was trained for this for pete’s sake. The one thing he was good at was picking up on information, little things that most people didn’t notice.

He had failed Gus.

Looking back, he remembered the time between Gus collapsing and the ambulance coming so clearly but in the middle of it all, it frankly felt like a blur of regret and blame and worry.

As he watched Gus’ unconscious body being loaded into the ambulance, his hands shook, tears threatening to fall. Juliet grabbed his hand, beginning to lead him to her car. The paramedics only had room for one person but selfishly he needed Juliet to be his rock. He wasn’t sure if he could hold on without her.

She squeezed his hand, wide, worried eyes gazing up at him. “He’ll be okay.”

Nodding mutely, he followed her to the car. All he could hope was that she would be right.

#whumptober2020 #no. 26 #if you thought the head trauma was bad #migraine #psych #shawn spencer #juliet o'hara #burton guster #migraine tw #nausea tw #ambulance tw #angst #shawn whump #fanfic #psych fanfic #skipps writes

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cowabungacafe · 4 years

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Hello! I was wondering if I could get a matchup? I'm 5'5, with short dark brown curly and medium brown eyes and I'm pretty thicc. I love rock music, lofi and RnB. My favorite color is green. I'm like the rain, night time, the cold and I really like coffee. I'm not a people person and I suffer from migraines. I hold grudges for a really long time(I also have no filter.) I like baking and cooking for people. I hate flowery smells but I do like warm sugary scents. I'm a slytherpuff and a huge dork for Marvel and DC. I hope that was enough to match someone with me. Thanks for even reading this and I hope you have a wonderful day (also I love your writing)

Hey thank you for your matchup request, im so glad you like my writing. Im very amateur on writing tmnt stuff, so do pardon me if i perceived you the wrong way or gave you "an undesired matchup"🥺❤.

I match you with

RAPHAEL

I have two parts for matchup, T

he First is Why i matched you with your result and the Second is Random headcanons of both of you when together.

Why i matched you with your result

I see you as a person who doesn't really talk too much and come off as cold and stern but are reallly sweet inside,Just like our "big cuddly teddy bear" here. Raph and you both dont stand peoples bullshits and speak your mind, which makes you somewhat rebel too.

The moment i saw that your fav color is green, raphs emerald eyes popped up in my brain. But thats not the only reason i shipped you with him. You hold grudges too, just like raph. If someone ever wrongs raph, his family or his loved ones, he will HOLD that grudge TO his GRAVE(the persons grave, lol i have a feel raph gonna go get his ass)

You have a soft side for baking and cooking for people and raph ADORES IT!!. He too have a soft side for knitting and woodcarving that goes against his usual "Rebel Image".

About the migrane part, read below i have a headcannon for that.

Raph Is MARVEL AND DC DORK TOO!!. Remember when he copied batmans voice to scare april at their first meeting??

Random headcanons of both of you when together.

Most nights when its raining outside, you guys cuddle together by the bedside window listening to soft lofi music with the additional pitter-patter sound of raindrops and the smell of wet soil.

On lazy days, you will bake some food for both of you while he will be knitting a red scarf for you.

When you're overloaded with schoolwork or officeworks, he will try his best to brew the perfect coffee for you. The first time he brew, it was disastrous but he has learnt now and takes pride in his coffee brewing skills(sometimes he boasts to leo and challenge Leo's tea making skill)

He do not know much about migranes, so the first time you told him you're having a migrane, he got so scared that he literally carried you to donnie. He even asked donnie on migranes and what he can do to help you.

Now that he knows how he can help you. He checks up on you regularly, he even insists on massaging your scalp to help ease the pain. He has also bought some scented candles(sweet candy ones bcus he figured out you love them) for you from online. He will help you with your to-do list and always remind you to take your meds and drink enough water.( Raph is a good student bcus he has taken note of everything donnie told him about migraines).

#tmnt matchups #tmnt #tmnt raph #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph x reader #matchup #lavender-217

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shadowtongued · 6 years

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DISCLAIMER; THIS HAS BEEN IN THE MAKING SINCE DEC 2017, I was just too shy to post it. Keep in mind that I'm not in any way, shape, or form trying to put my headcanons or interpretation of lore over anyone else's and this is pretty much just a general long-form run down for my roleplay blog to help people who aren't familiar with RS, so for my non-RS friends it's more of an explanation of how this 'tall ancient magic alien man' is and works. Physiology and some other cultural blurbs with the occasional emphasis on Sliske, because, well, that's what my roleplay blog is for. This is also mostly a passion project since I'm pretty fixated on this, if you read this at all, kudos to you and ily, ty for coming to my Ted Talk about this. Special thanks to people/friends who put up with me ranting abt this obscure fandom and helped me flesh out headcanons, and @theresiidentdevil the artwork that i commissioned that i use way too much bc devil really... really did my version of snek man nice. Other imgs used are scrounged from ja.gex’s concept arts and etc. ONCE AGAIN THIS IS NOT CANON, AND JUST MY PERSONAL HYPOTHESIS, feel free to reblog but please don’t like... edit or try to give me heavy crit or come @ me with some lore bit from so-and-sos tweet that I am wrong and am a doodoo head or something. This was just a spot o’ fun and please don’t try to drag my interpretation or expunge this for laughs on the official lore discord. I’ve seen it done before and it’s not cool. individual creative interpretation is beautiful, mob bullying is not.

To kick things off, the Mahjarrat are one of a few ancient tribes that live on the ash, lava, and stone wasteland that makes up the dead planet of Freneskae. They are highly skilled in magic and intellect by nature, as well as living by a firm form of kratocracy; a government by those who are strong enough to seize power through coercive power, social persuasion, or deceptive cunning. Along with this, their survival revolves around two rituals, one of death and sacrifice, the other of life and breeding. That right there should tell you a LOT about them, socially.

HEIGHT.

Height varies from Mahjarrat to Mahjarrat, they are always going to be towering over most species, and most humans, as lore states that they generally are 1.5x the average human height. Sans that one wild ass gene of hyper height that makes gargantuan Mahjarrat like Lucien and Zemoregal, who tower over even Azzanadra's spike pope hat. Sliske himself stands at an 8′4 height, but that's just my headcanon for this blog's sake.

SKULLS / BONES.

The Mahjarrat have thick skulls, if this wasn't pretty obvious with the additions of dual lines of bony ridges running parallel from the brow to back of the skull, and lower. Some, but not all individuals have rather, short horns as their 'first ridge' before normal ridges. They also seem to have a subtle browbone ridge above each eye. Sliske, as well as some of the canon Mahjarrat we know, have these short horns and I like to exaggerate them a bit as sharp and more obvious, because who doesn't love horns? I'd imagine there are also ridges across other parts of their bodies such as the shoulders, elbows, knees, smaller ones on the knuckles, and perhaps down the back and along the hips. Go wild. Anyways, their skulls are thick and heavy, as in if it comes down to having to head-butt someone at the sacrificial ritual as a last resort physical conflict when magic is exhausted, someone is going to be using every exploit they can to survive. Anything counts when your life is on the line.

*above concept art is of their lich-like forms. good for seeing skull shapes.

Most also have rather large jawbones and powerful jaw muscles, and have a decent bite force to clamp down; like above, can and will use the force of their jaws if they have to with a good 1,069 psi (pounds per square inch), a little less than a hyena, meaning they can break bones with enough force. The main reasoning for this is their powerful mandible adductor muscles and the leverage needed to keep their jaw closed in their lich-like forms with the loss of skin and some atrophy, when they begin to run low on energy before every 500 years ( more on this later ), otherwise their toothy jaws would be hanging open and they'd look quite silly. It's quite rare for a Mahjarrat to bite unless as a last resort attack, out of spite when healthy ( almost as if saying 'you are weak and aren't worth the waste of magical energy' ), or for other minute reasons. Males tend to have very pronounced 'spikes' on their chins and larger skull ridges, but it's not completely unheard of a female having a 'spiked' chin and larger ridges. Sexual dimorphism isn’t too well explained or solidified by Jagex, we haven’t really seen much due to the few living Mahjarrat we see.

TEETH / CONSUMPTION.

personal interpretation of sliske’s teeth here.

Speaking of teeth, Mahjarrat have exceedingly sharp teeth for being part of a race that is not carnivorous or needing any sustenance at all. They have more teeth than humans (not really canon, just my personal interpretation, I prefer them being very Alien over ‘grey human reskin’); while almost every tooth has a sharpness to it, be it incisors or tines in the molars. Their front teeth seem to be ridged with smaller points, you probably don't want to get nipped by them, even if it's just playful or affectionate (uh, whatever they deem as affection). It's a real shame that Sliske seems to enjoy this, in the few moments he puts on a faux air of affection to scratch an itch or when deciding to use seduction as a ploy to further his manipulation or intel gathering, among other rare, convoluted feelings towards someone he's 'affectionate' with. Teeth shape and sizes can vary due to the Mahjarrat way of breeding and eugenics to create survivability through offspring on what traits work. Basic Darwinism, tbh. Following my ever favorite serpent motif for Sliske, you can expect his teeth to be pretty ophidian/snake-like. Due to my headcanon to their dark blood color, Mahjarrats may have dark or black gums. Small addition: babs do have sharp defensive baby teeth that fall out into hellish adult ones. Nice.

Mahjarrat do not need to eat or drink, as they are fueled fully by an arcane energy that they receive from rituals, and slowly deplete this over several centuries. Their power can last even longer if an individual is stingy with their power, or unaware of their power like Kharshai, who spent several centuries in a human guise hardly using any energy while unaware he was even a Mahjarrat. Despite not needing sustenance, it's not unheard of for Mahjarrat to attempt eating or drinking for whatever reason, be it pleasure or to emulate others. Hazeel's memories almost adorably describe some Mahjarrat attempting to sit and politely eat with humans to 'bond with them', despite them later having to regurgitate what they had eaten and Hazeel's repulsion at any creature eating at all. Several lore snippets include Zamorak enjoying wine and in Kindred Spirits, Sliske making the comment he may be drunk after downing the contents of a bottle. Whether or not they actually can become inebriated or have any sort of digestive system to even mildly uptake anything is debatable. For headcanon's sake, I like to think Sliske has no issue with pleasure eating and for taste, especially chocolate, fully knowing he'll have to bring it back up later. Most Mahjarrat have tongues that can be dark in color to only slightly brighter due to their dark blood color. Like horns, some end up with a slightly bifurcated tongue tip, some do not and have a single, sharp tip. Sliske is an extreme mutated case and has a very obvious black, snake-like, forked tongue. Just don’t ask him to do the thip thip because he won’t.

(WHERE’D YA GET THOSE) EYES / SENSES.

Usually, A Mahjarrat's eyes correspond to the color of the jewel embedded in their crown, but not always. They have very, keen eyes and their eyesight is exceptional to suit the darkness of Freneskae due to the constant ashfall and cloud cover. They can see short distances, but farther into heavy smoke and ash than most species, and can indeed see in the dark with excellent night vision and have a structure similar to an animal's tapetum lucidem, which is what reflects light and makes that eerie glare you see from animals in the dark. Due to spending a lot of time on Freneskae and being well adapted to that environment, it was quite a jolt for them to get accustomed to sunlight on Gielinor when brought during the Menaphite War, as they were used to heavy 'cloudy' weather due to ash blocking out what light they did get, and being used to the constant lightning strikes and the glow of volcanic rifts and lava pools. But they adapt quite well and while they still prefer muted lights, they have no problem in the sunlight after adjusting a bit. Think of when it’s a sunny summer day and you leave your dark house and how for a few minutes you have to acclimate. Sliske has the most trouble with this, seeing as he still spends quite some time in the darkness of the Shadow Realm which is hazy and muted in light. He's quite prone to straining and headaches/migraines from bright lights on Gielinor ( and Earth since a lot of my writing takes place on Modern Earth ).

Mahjarrat have fairly acute senses and sharp ears, and while most concept art shows them similar to human ears, why not lorge, sharp, and pointy ( as not to be so human )? Plus, imagine a few with larger, pointed ones that flick when irritated. That's cute, but deadly. They can hear fairly well and can hear you talking shit. Not exactly up to par with a bat or a moth, but quite up there with horses or cats. I'd imagine the rest of their senses are pretty keen despite not using taste or smell as much as a human, but most senses are still fairly above a human’s.

I'm not exactly sure how they'd fare in the aspect of touch, but it is known that they are very, very strong and can break bones with their bare hands. They have exceptional strength in their bodies and despite teleporting some ways, I'll bet most of them are decently muscular or lean under those robes due to their solidity and a bad example perhaps, but, uh, have you seen Zamorak's exposed chest? I'm sure 'godhood' didn't change that much, albeit some. Who wouldn't love a decently built Enahkra who will hand your ass to you? A babe. Sliske himself, while being one of the leanest of the Mahjarrat, probably has core strength and broad shoulders under those pauldrons. I'd like to imagine he'd also ( as some other of his kin) would be pretty flexible and train his Praetorians to be similar and absolutely strong in the event of having to resort to physical combat or maneuvering out of capture. Most of them were born on Freneskae, a planet made of plenty of solid rock/crystal cliffs and caves, they made pilgrimages pretty often to the ritual site, so some rock climbing was probably involved as they grew. Plus, image small, child Mahjarrat, not able to teleport or be proficient in magic, just out on a day with less lightning, climbing around, chucking rocks into lava for fun. I'm getting off-topic and we'll talk about babbies some other post.

SKIN / STRIPES / SCARRATIONS.

personal interpretation body/stripe of sliske here. (mildly nsfw)

Skin colorations are usually running the gamut of dark grey, pale grey, and dull color such as a grey-green, grey yellow and more. It's also notable that Mahjarrat are shapeshifters and are known to slowly take on the appearances of the conditions they are in for extended amounts of time; Kharshai becoming more 'viking-esque' like the Fremennik people who took him in when he was unaware he was human, and also Bilrach's warped appearance from spending god knows how long in Daemonheim with larger ridges, scarring, and some more demonic-looking features. Sliske himself has a very deep, dark slate grey skin tone from the amount of time he spends in the dark of the Shadow Realm, beginning to mimic its dusk.

Mahjarrat have thick skin, built initially to withstand the heat and abrasion of their home world’s rocky and dangerous climate and environment, but also notably protective against icy and snow-fraught climates, as they have little to no issue or complaint at heading far North of the Fremennik Providence, near the icy fortress of Ghorrock where their ritual stone lays on Gielinor ( it's also notable that Jhallan asks the adventurer to re-seal him within a fuggin’ block of ice to rest again, proving they do not mind the cold at all ). Their skin can scar if proper regeneration is not taken to heal wounds, as Mahjarrat are known for almost instantaneously healing themselves of most wounds on the battlefield to their own volition, but this is quite rarely seen on them, sans Bilrach. For all we know, they could be quite scarred from lack of regeneration fueled by magical energy or quite severe wounds under those robes that cover most of their body, I personally headcanon that some may have some scarring on their hands and forearms due to the might of some of the spells they use. I also personally headcanon Sliske having a pretty nasty burn across his shoulder and ribs trailing to the hip on the left side from Tumeken's explosive self-sacrifice detonation that wiped out the entirety of his army and at least 3/4ths of the Mahjarrat present, sans the ones spared by Azzanadra's quick shielding. I would think that some of them also may have suffered from similar scars due to Kharshai admitting they were tired and wounded after the event.

Striping and markings can litter their forms in sparse or rather heavy. Most Mahjarrat have at least some facial striping that can be a monochrome pale grey or darker, or a bright color such as Wahisietel's bright red trailing across his ridges to his chin spikes, Enakhra's vivid pink colorations, and Khazard's orange striping. While stripes may look similar from individual to individual you are hard-pressed to find two Mahjarrat with identical markings, and we have never heard of any twins being born from their tribe in canon ( Not saying it's not possible! But that would be a lot of strain seeing as once child is hard enough for a pair to conceive ). It's unknown if the stripes are across the rest of their bodies, but I say to hell with it. Why the hell not? Let the stripes go as angular or curvy as they please across their skin. Why limit the imagination. They are aliens. For the sake of me writing Sliske; he's a very pale silvery, parallel stripy thing under those robes with handsome slate skin. Go figure, that's jus' me though. ( Whatddya mean I made a personal ref of that?? s w e a t s?? slight warning for some not safies. )

CLAWS / FEET.

personal interpretation of sliske’s rock climbin’ sharp feets here.

Mahjarrat probably do have clawed hands and feet, and they are thick and sharp, along with strong ( most likely calloused for some ) palms and heels for climbing ( possibly before they were so proficient with teleporting ) They are also prime last resort weapons if need be and constantly need filing down on Gielinor and other terrains since they aren't around the rocky outcrops of Freneskae and using them there as much, most Mahjarrat seem to opt to wear gloves anyway. Their legs and arms are also pretty sturdy for climbing despite not needing to do so as much. I’d imagine they might just have longer toe and finger bones for mild gripping abilities when it comes to climbing. I’ve also kinda headcanoned often that they probably might have wrapped parts of their feet in bindings, just to keep things like soft arches or tendon areas save when climbing or walking. Ancient hellplanet fashion, baby.

GEMS.

Just about all Mahjarrat ( and Dreams of Mah in general ) have at least one 'crystal' or 'gemstone' in their brows or crowns ( whoever in the wiki said Sliske doesn't have one is a fraud, just because we don't see it due his V tapered hood doesn't mean it's not there, as it has been shown in several concept arts that he does have two yellow-green or 'peridotite' colored diamonds, like his half-brother’s four of the same color ). When asked about it in the Children of Mah quest, Wahisietel states that even they are not sure as to why they have them but believe it to be a direct connection to Mah. It's also implied that a dead Mahjarrat's 'crystal' often records their last thoughts or actions. Most Mahjarrat have the exact same bright iris color as their stones ( the concept art with Sliske having gold eyes throws me off, but I'd imagine there could be some minor color differences ). It seems that gemstones look-alike from siblings and offspring, as Sliske and his half-brother Wahisietel have almost the same colored crystal and shape despite Wahisietel having four diamonds to Sliske's two.

ORGANS? OR LACK THEREOF?

personal interpretation of nasty snake man blood here.

It's truly unknown as to just how many organs Mahjarrat have and if there is any comparison to be made to humans. It can be hypothesized they do have at least a heart ( With more chambers than a humans? Or two! Who knows! ) and lungs. If they do have lungs, it could be stated that they are very strong and made to filter out the heavy ash and debris of Freneskae's poor air quality, our adventurer had enough trouble breathing on Freneskae if you didn't take face gear. They do not seem to have a digestive tract as they do not need sustenance or hydration and perhaps have a makeshift stomach that leads nowhere as if they do eat anything, they just have to regurgitate it. Onto blood, they possibly do have a circulatory system and blood, as Lucien states he didn't 'want to spill any more Mahjarrat blood'. Normal human blood would be a bit boring so I like to imagine they have thick, dark-colored blood that has some iridescent properties to it ( not glittery, but if you have ever seen what the ink in a ballpoint pen looks like when dumped out, it has a particular shine to it. ) and never seems to be just one color, like an oil slick. Probably because it's so rich in arcane properties which would also make it pretty toxic, bitter, or awfully sickly sweet. This also means that they would blush pretty dark in color and have dark-colored tongues and etc. rather than red like humans, that's.... kinda cute. Also, if we are talking about organs and parts, a small blurb, no, female Mahjarrat do not have boobs. There's no need since they probably do not feed their young at all. So breaking canon for the sake of biology, hi, Mahjarrat probably don't have boobs or nips. Kinda doesn’t make sense. SHRUG. But they do have belly buttons, so maybe they are gestated with umbilical cords.

THE BANE OF THE JMOD’S EXISTENCE: MAHJARRAT REPRODUCTION

Y'all wanted it Jmods yell when we ask for it, here it is: my reproduction hypothesis. We have little to no real canon lore for Mahjarrat other than that they do(?) reproduce sexually, it takes a lot of energy to do so (abt 50% physical effort, 50% the pair pooling their life energy into the event, kinda dangerous), and that they are culturally fond of breeding during earthquakes ( this was just a cultural tradition and it's probably possible to breed outside of this tradition, the jokes say it’s almost Pavlovian ). They have a specific ritual for breeding, The Ritual of Enervation. The Enervation is the foil of a Ritual of Rejuvenation where one of their kind is sacrificed to provide all others with energy and return them from their lich-like states to fleshy filled out ones, the Enervation is a pilgrimage to select a mate and breed to create a new Mahjarrat between a pair. It's slightly hinted that the pair chooses their mate based upon battle prowess or cunningness ( Zemouregal Senior chose his mate based on her skills in battle ) . Much like real animals today, they want only the strongest genetics and mutations to continue on. All of them fight each other for their pick of a mate. Very rarely do the pairs have any emotional attachment, this is rare. And the ritual still isn't pretty; I'll say it, they are rough lovers. Expect biting, scratching, bruising, and more. Kinky. Let me tell you, human genitalia are boring as hell when you are describing aliens. Phallic genitalia differs a lot from individual to individual, it's a slight 'grab bag to see what part works best for future genetics'. Mahjarrat bits are pretty internal until aroused since it makes no sense for them to be external seeing as all Mahjarrat lose a lot of skin and muscle to atrophy as they age and lose energy, so they'd do better internally and tucked away. Vaginal genitalia differs heavily as well, anything goes. Barbs? Sure. Flowery looking bits? Sure. It's aliens, guys. Go wild. Same thing with sexualities and genders, other than what they want to present themselves as, we don't know shit, so go for it. I'm fairly sure Mahjarrat really don't mind gender identity and anything goes, they see power, survival, and fighting over everything else. Sliske, of course, is male presenting and yes, has his own unique bits. Uh, ridges, bifurcated tip, fan-like appendage for preventing backflow. I'd describe more but I'm already pRETTY FUCKING SHY RIGHT NOW BC I DON'T KNOW HOW TO talk much abt this. I'm a beginner alien fucker. Give me a break. UPDATE: I went there, I no longer have shame. bc I roughly drew it.

I’m not sure what the good estimate would be when it comes to how long a Mahjarrat gestates, is it longer than a human? Quicker due to magic? We just don’t know. The birth rate is exceedingly low due to the dangers and strain of Freneskae, it's not unheard of for miscarriages or mothers to pass away from lack of energy or during the fray of the constant other tribes attacking each other. Generally, it's a duty to protect a gravid mother of the sake of population, mate or not. Putting aside your disdain for your nemesis was hard but needed if you wanted to keep your tribe thriving. Fathers don't tend to stick around after the ritual other than to check in to protect their child and future genetics as insurance. Mothers rear children and if they could get along and not spat at one another, often looked after each other's children. Maternal groups were pretty common and one could leave another to watch their kids while they went off on their duties of making lightning rods, scouting, and more.

MISC?

Mahjarrats don't exactly have the same bonds as humans and familial life was harsh, mainly due to the stress of knowing your own blood one day might betray you and vote you off to be the sacrifice at a ritual. They are not affectionate as much as humans and care in their own backwards way about each other if they are family, but it's an arm's length approach. Sliske and Wahisietel seem to get along and still probably have their ferocious verbal quarrels and have possibly even physically scuffled a bit over things, but managed to have concern for one another, as do Mahjarrat who are as best a definition of 'friends' can be to them. Remember that they are very paranoid of one another and usually only see eye to eye if in the same political faction or having to make a deal or coerce one another to stand up for you if you are challenged at a ritual ( later on this became a huge political agenda between the two main sides; Zamorakian or Zarosian and fighting intensified at dislike for each other ). As they evolved from their creation, they just generally became more and more mistrustful of each other to point of paranoia. So affection is incredibly weird to them and the first thought that comes from it is 'what do you want and why?' and it's expected to be a deceitful notion. Hence, Sliske is incredibly good at persuading others and using deceitful action to lure people but the moment it's done to him, he'll play along but consider it warily as false notions. Sorry not sorry, that's pretty habitual to him and will stay with him, as well as his kin. You're never going to have a 'stable relationship' with any Mahjarrat. Well, not 100% at least. You can try, they might even appreciate it if they aren’t offended.

That’s about all I wanted to say and anything left out of this word spew can be covered in other posts. Like culture.... or babbies. I have a lot to say about Babjarrats but no place right now to keep up this long shit. UPDATE: i talked abt my thoughts on babjarrats. it was the best of my life.

#✦ │ 𝙾𝙾𝙲 ––– that's a lot of fuckin' tea.#✦ │ 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 & 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂 ––– i do hate parting with information.

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brothersgrim · 6 years

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5, 16 and 18 for both :)

Dig into my muse’s life | headcanons

5: Does your muse have any phobias?

Yes to both. You don’t live like they have and not develop one or two.

For Kane:- Being on fire. He’s fine with burning things and other people, but he’s not a fan of burning, himself. … I’m not sure this counts as a phobia, as freaking out when you are on fire seems like a very rational response. But that may just be me.- Locked doors. Jeez Louise, do NOT lock Kane in a room. If he feels he cannot get out of somewhere, he can and will freak out and make an exit by any means necessary. If he even THINKS there’s a place that MIGHT be used as a holding cell or similar, he won’t want to be there or anywhere near it. He’s willing to do terrible things to avoid being caged up somewhere - hell, he became Vince and Shane McMahon’s (miserable) slave way back when all because they threatened to have him locked in a hospital again. Which leads us to…- Hospitals. Oh man. Kane dislikes hospitals. Now, I will say this: Not all of his experiences in hospitals have been negative. Heck, he’s even had some that could be considered ‘good’. But he hates hospitals. He spent most - if not all - of his teenage years and all of his 20′s in various hospitals. He can’t stand the idea of being in one again, even for legitimate medical concerns. He’d be happier handling the pain on his own. - Isolation. Here’s the thing: He doesn’t like being alone. At all. He can handle it, sure, but the longer he’s alone, the antsier he gets and the more his anxiety spikes. I guess that comes with being locked in a basement - and, as mentioned above, hospital rooms - for most of your life. Even just hearing people moving around is better than nothing, but he prefers having someone with him. Bonus points if it’s someone he’s comfortable enough to break down around, since they can help him through rough patches. (But there are so far two or three of those at all, so, he takes what he can get.)- Being unable to breathe, or difficulty breathing in general. Smoke inhalation nearly killed him, and took his ability to speak for twenty-plus years (though part of it was trauma). If he feels like he’s suffocating, it’s a bad time. (So, uh, any more intimate partners: if you try choking him, he will burn your bedroom to ash.)- People touching his face. This is a more minor one, but it’s a great way to put him on edge. He’s as headshy as a cobra with a migraine, especially if you reach for the side with his bad eye. Again, there’s only about three people he’s fine with doing this, and they know who they are.So those are the main ones for Kane. There are some that are only really bad when he’s having a panic attack, e.g. being touched in general, the dark, or being seen without his mask, and by and large the only person he’s legitimately afraid of is his brother, but, again, that’s a rational fear, so, hey. (Or, it’s sometimes rational. They make each other miserable, but big brother would kill for him, so. Hey.) He’s also nervous about having to take over the Yard if anything happened to Taker, but not so nervous that he avoids trying to kill Taker. … And he’s kinda shy about trusting people. But, really. Can you blame him?

As for Taker:- Not a fan of the smell of burning wood. Burning pine, especially - there used to be a lot of old pine trees around the funeral home. Some things never leave you, and the memory of watching your entire family, house, and everything you own being reduced to ash is one of those things. - Losing someone he cares about. He doesn’t like many people. You can tell who those people are by how ridiculously, illogically protective he gets of them. This, again, ties to the above. He watched everyone he loved die in front of him. (Rather, he thought it was everyone for twenty years. He kind-of sort-of got Kane back.) He doesn’t handle the idea of losing someone else very well. He’ll go to absurd lengths to make sure that doesn’t happen again in any capacity - even at great harm to himself.- Forgetting. Or just not remembering properly. After Paul messed with his mind to bring on the Ministry of Darkness, Taker legitimately no longer remembers if he set the fire or not. It freaks him out. Makes him wonder what else he forgot, or what other memories were altered or fabricated, or what things he’s lying to himself about… If he slept normally, it’d keep him up at night. - A lack of free will/control / powerlessness. HOO BOY. So, the Ministry was a thing. But also, the urn? An object that literally binds him to someone else’s will? There’s a reason he got rid of it, eventually. Took a long time for him to figure out how. But being forced to act for someone else, being reduced to some sort of puppet, it’s… It’s not pleasant. He hates all of it. - Confronting his parents. So, he sees the dead. A lot. It’s part of his job. But, tying back in to the memory thing, he’s secretly anxious about coming across his parents’ spirits and having it confirmed that everything that happened was his fault. Most things he’s done, he doesn’t regret. His morals are pretty well shot. He couldn’t handle being the cause of the fire. … ‘Fortunately’, Paul convinced Kane to burn their parents’ corpses/caskets, so they can’t manifest in the world of the living, but Taker still pops down to the underworld for business. (And for dragging other people down with him.) He really doesn’t want to see them again, and that? That makes him feel guilty. … But not as guilty as if he knew for sure that he’d killed them.Other than that, he’s not scared of much. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen when you’re already dead?

6: Which sibling is your muse closest to? If they have no siblings, which family member?

I mean, depending on the day, these two might as well be joined at the hip. Even when they feud, the general rule is ‘nobody else is allowed to hurt you, only I get to kill you’, and so on and so forth. Aside from that, though… I’d say ‘Taker bonded best with their dad, and baby Kane was absolutely a mama’s boy (though he’d rather die than admit it, later on). Not that their parents didn’t love them equally, and make sure the boys knew it, but personality-wise, that’s how they clicked.

18: How does your muse feel about religion?

Believe it or not, they’re very religious. It’s just not the conventional, main-stream sort of Abrahamic faiths that you see so often in Texas. Some people would call their family a cult, and they wouldn’t be that far off. It was a lot of black magic and demons, and all that fun stuff. Some people would call it occult, and that’s where the semantics come in. ‘Occult’ is technically an accurate word, but it irks Taker to no end (Kane, having grown up distant from the family ways post-fire, cares significantly less). He feels like it’s used too often and improperly now to adequately describe what they do. Literally anything spooky these days is being described as ‘occult’. But that’s not the case. The meaning’s been lost and shifted so many times in modern slang that Taker doesn’t take too kindly to it any more. It’s not witchcraft, though some practices bridge the gap, nor is it Wicca. It is descended from witchcraft, but that was many generations ago. Different family members call it different things. It does involve contact and contracts with demons, it does involve the dead (obviously), it does involve sacrifices, and it does not adhere to the laws of nature. Again, Taker keeps up with it more than Kane, due to their upbringings, but Kane’s starting to get back into it. He never lost his connection, but it just feels right to pick up the old practices. It feels like home. It also helps him reclaim a part of himself that he thought had been stolen from him when he lost everything else. (Also, they let you pass through Hell with much fewer headaches if you observe the proper rituals.)By and large, they’re pretty open to religion. They’re not the types to go around discrediting peoples’ beliefs. They do things that defy reason all the time - who are they to say that something sounds impossible? They’re pretty set in their ways, so you’re not going to convert them, but as long as you don’t try, they’ll generally let you do your thing.

#silimalosi #&& incendiary remarks; demon answers #&& whispers from the crypt; deadman answers #&& ars goetia; demon headcanons #&& necronimcon; deadman headcanons #&& reburied; ooc

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thesummerfox · 7 years

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do you have any headcanons for wish soulmates au?

OH GOD DO I (in fact, I have a backbone for an entire fic I’m never gonna write so here you go lol)

Okay, so, I wrote a soulmate AU for Kastle not too long ago that works off the idea that most of us get soulmate dreams that do not reveal our soulmate's actual identity and that since the first dream we see electric bright colours the closer we get in physical proximity to our soulmate and we begin to display certain mannerisms etc that our soulmate has. When we're almost on the verge of knowing who they are our dreams turn blindingly white, and when we finally meet we switch places very briefly to literally stand in each other's shoes. When the bond is finally acknowledged by both out loud, the world just explodes into vivid colours/sounds/smells/etc.

I'm situating the Wish soulmates AU in the same universe, so imagine:

* Trish gets her dream first, on the first night after she moves out of her mother's house. It means she wakes with the taste of coffee lingering in her mouth and the smell of expensive aftershave hugging her body. The yellows and pinks in her new apartment are vehemently at war with the midnight blue and brightest cyan that streak past her out of the corner of her eye. She can't work her way through her breakfast without wanting to spit the chia seeds back out.

* She calls Jessica the next morning when she steps outside and the sky overhead is teasing her with technicolour flashes that all travel toward Grand Central. Her soulmate is here in the city somewhere and it takes all her willpower to meet Jess somewhere other than the place all the colours seem to be converging on. It's not until Jess cautions her with a "needle in a haystack, stop looking, just live your life" that Trish relents on the idea of going out to look for her soulmate.

* Just because she's not looking doesn't mean she's not rolling her eyes more often, nor does it mean that she can stop herself from making snide comments she usually would've kept to herself. Jess thinks her soulmate's an asshole and calls it "beautiful". Trish just thinks it's a pain in the ass.

* She catches herself humming along to rock songs on her morning commute. When she finally belts out a pitch-perfect rendition of Whole Lotta Love, she rests her head on the steering wheel and vows to never again ridicule Jessica for all the times her sister began to rap mid-sentence since meeting Luke.

* Sometimes, she walks past a newsstand and watches bright flecks of cyan dance across the headlines. Tilts her head at it before straightening again and moving on. She never purchases any of the things that turn blue before her eyes, although she is sorely tempted when the NY Bulletin keeps dancing blue circles around her for a whole week whenever she goes out to grab her coffee from the stand next to it.

* Words get stuck in her throat when her first and rather vehement reaction concerning Danny Rand's return to the city is to smash her coffee cup into the nearest wall. She goes into hiding for a full week when the newspapers all light up with brightest blue and there's a rainbow dancing overhead that trails to the exact location of Rand Enterprises. (She knows that much, because her curiosity got the better of her one night. Drove all the way up to that exact city block before losing her nerve.)

* There's blood all over the cuffs of her white blouse and she can't wash it out. Or so she thinks for the first ten minutes in which she's desperately trying to salvage her best blouse. It's not until Jessica walks in on her and confusedly asks "what the hell are you talking about?" that Trish comes to realise the blood's not really there at all.

* She wakes one night feeling as though someone just hooked her up to a new life supply of oxygen and she can breathe properly again for the first time in her life. It reminds her of the time she finally said "no" to her mother and that fact alone is enough to make her curl up around a pillow and pray for her soulmate's wellbeing tonight.

* She finally meets Danny Rand properly in the aftermath of the Midland Circle fiasco and stops dead in her tracks when he laughs out a "you remind me of someone I know" in response to a rather acidic comment she throws his way. Claire shoots her a too-knowing smile when Trish has to steady herself on her feet the second Danny takes a phonecall. Her dreams turn white that night.

* Ward is convinced he won't ever have a soulmate dream. Goes all the years without it, claiming to be married to his job, until he has his first soulmate dream the first night after Harold's cremation. He wakes with the taste of cherries on his lips and the smell of bubblegum shampoo in his nostrils. Stumbles toward the bathroom in a daze as competing streaks of yellow and pink curl and fold around him in what is almost an embrace. It's the first time he ever showers cold, because his skin feels as though it is burning up.

* He doesn't tell anyone about the dream, not even when he steps outside and the sky overhead fills up with a glaring rainbow of colours that almost makes him purchase sunglasses out of spite. He doesn't go out to look for his soulmate. Who'd want him now, anyway?

* He realises something's wrong when his first instinct at signs of trouble is to shout out a "fight me!" that leaves Danny shaking his head at him. Just about breaks down in the office when he can't renegotiate a deal without appealing to the other party's empathy. Thinks it's a good thing Harold's dead when he starts to cry over nothing one night.

* Pink hues dance just on the outskirts of his vision when he calls Danny about the dramatic events at Midland Circle. He chooses to ignore that, mostly because he's too busy yelling at Danny about improper business conduct that's going to get all of them killed one day. He surprises Danny, himself, and a smiling Colleen when he pulls Danny in for a hug the next time he sees him. (Makes them vow to never speak of it again.)

* It's harder to ignore the voice that finally seeps into his ears after a long night at the office has him turning the radio on for background noise. They're doing a rerun of some talkshow or other, which Ward is sure he's listened to a million times before now. He's not certain why the warm intelligence in the woman's voice suddenly has him parking the car or why his fingers grip the steering wheel so hard it hurts. (He tells himself he's not sure, anyway, even though he's lying to himself when her name flares up brightest yellow that sets his car alight in the dead of night.)

* He almost refuses Claire's offer of "drinks with a support group, we all look like we need it", but then Danny takes up Daredevil's mantle in earnest and the budding migraine behind Ward's eyes suddenly craves a drink or twenty. He's somehow not surprised to find his dreams turn glaringly white the night he calls Claire to confirm his presence.

* Trish decides Claire is evil when the nurse shouts out a "please get the door for me, my hands are full!" upon hearing the incessant knocking at the door on the evening of their get-together. Or, well, she decides Claire is completely and utterly evil when she opens the door and feels as though the earth tilts and shifts on its axis the way no earthquake ever could force it to. It takes considerable effort before she is able to right herself against the doorpost. The only comfort is that the sharply-dressed man in front of her looks so shaken that it almost seems like he saw a ghost.

* They don't switch places right away. Most of the evening passes with them sneaking glances at each other every so often. Claire's full house (seriously, how many vigilante friends can one city contain?) makes it easier for Ward to pretend he doesn't feel pulled into the direction of the very blonde and very intimidating woman who's cradling a cup of tea in her hands and talking up a storm with Karen Page. Colleen, next to him, mutters an "oh boy" when she finally catches on to the reason why Claire keeps looking back and forth between Ward and the blonde as though she's watching a very interesting tennis match.

* Trish finally plucks up the courage to say "it was nice to meet you" before she swings out the door with Karen in tow. She spends the better part of the night headdesking over the stupidity of that comment. Ward goes home smiling.

*They don't switch places until Danny's done something monumentally stupid that puts them both in danger. For one, brief, scary moment, Trish's hands are the ones that are coiled around a gun and Ward's hands are the ones growing sticky with Jess's blood. The moment is gone as quickly as it came and it's not until they're out of danger that they allow themselves to acknowledge that it happened at all.

* A hospital waiting room is not exactly the place Trish had envisioned the acknowledgment of the soulmate bond would take place in, but Ward is far too tired and far too highstrung to care once they get stuck in one together. He's off ranting about vigilantes and superhero siblings and the continuous downward spiral of life before he grounds out a "I know you're my soulmate but there's no way in hell you're actually going to stay" that leaves her raising her voice in anger and yelling a "consider yourself stuck with this soulmate, asshole!" that she's sure is going to reverberate in the walls of this place for years to come.

* The technicolour explosion comes after they're done yelling at one another for the better part of an hour. Ward mutters out a "jesus christ" when the subsequent noise level in the hospital spikes up to the point where he's sure he hears Whole Lotta Love playing in a room five stories down, while Trish just rakes her hand through her hair angrily at the noises before commenting "is blue your favourite colour because it's literally everywhere right now?" that has him choking out a laugh. "Is pink yours?" he asks soon after, and thinks he's just about done fighting this soulmate-thing when she smiles back an affirmation that makes her entire face light up.

#wishship #prompts #wishfic #Anonymous

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shiiza-zeppeli · 7 years

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Jotaro Headcanon(s)

Okay, so I’m sure everyone who’s watched or read Stardust Crusaders is familiar with the knife scene in the Jotaro vs. Dio fight. After Jotaro gets stabbed and hits the ground, it’s revealed that he stuffed his shirt with magazines, which is what saved him. But I don’t remember him mentioning his hat, not would his hat fit one. Add in the fact that we see blood when a knife hits his hat, and it can be concluded that Jotaro definitely took a knife to the forehead. Which isn’t just something you can shrug off.

So, with that lengthy explanation over, I have this headcanon where Jotaro suffers from pretty bad migraines from the end of Part 3 onwards.

More information on this (additional explanation + fic draft maybe?) under the cut. ((also sorry if this is messy I typed it on my phone at midnight, oops))

I haven’t finished anything past Part 4, so I can’t say if there’s anything in canon that directly contradicts this, but I’m pretty sure it’s completely possible. I’m not an expert in head wounds either, but having an inch+ of steel embedded in your skull doesn’t sound like something a person could do without any side effects, so that’s what I’ve been thinking.

And as for some more headcanons…. I also like to imagine that since Joseph and Polnareff were so badly injured and down by the end of the fight, while Jotaro was still standing, he got shoved to the side when it came to medical care. As in, the SPW concentrated on those two while Jotaro just watched and hoped Joseph would be okay, sitting patiently but still bleeding out. He wouldn’t have taken the magazines out of his shirt before getting picked up, so they’d still be in there as Polnareff and Joseph were getting cared for, soaking up any blood that came out of his stab wounds. Which would exist because if you compare the lengths of the knives with the thickness of the magazines, there’s no way they didn’t stab Jotaro at least a little.

Moving on, Jotaro is sitting there bleeding out while the other two are being fussed over by the SPW, telling anyone who does take the time to notice him that the blood isn’t his, and that it came from Dio’s injuries when the two of them got too close while fighting. It would be a lie that he half believed, half didn’t, but wanted to be true anyway. Three people had already died on him that day, and he didn’t want anyone the mortality rate of his trip to Egypt to climb any higher because the doctors that should have been saving them were occupied with the less injured Jotaro.

The doctors/nurses/whatever would listen to Jotaro��s refusals, since the magazines absorbing his blood meant his shirt didn’t show how much he had bled, and his hat helped hide his head wound. The blood on his face he again attributed to Dio, since the vampire had squirted it with blood from his leg (how it was possible to make blood to that far and with such precision, Jotaro didn’t knoe). Thus, the conclusion was that Jotaro miraculously wasn’t that injured.

It wasn’t until after Joseph woke up and hugged Jotaro that the extent of the teen’s injuries were revealed. Jotaro had been trying his hardest to stay awake and alert while Joseph was out, but he started slipping once the old man woke up. During their hug, Joseph felt the odd angles of the magazines jab into him, and asked Jotaro about it, who told him about them. Joseph then made a silly comment about how it was such a waste of good material and pulled up Jotaro’s shirt, making the magazines tumble out. At this point Jotaro would be too dazed from blood loss to stop Joseph in time, so his hands just kind of shoot toward Joseph’s arm in a delayed reaction, freezing when he sees how bad the scene looks.

Because when the magazines tumble out, they weren’t the white and blues they had originally been, but pinks and reds, with some crusty brown on top. There are gashes in his chest too, ones that he never noticed, but does then. As does Joseph, who starts asking Jotaro about it, but the teen just replies that he thought the magazines had stopped the knives from hitting him, and that he hasn’t felt them in his skin, so he hasn’t noticed.

At this point his words are slurring a bit, and the SPW doctors hear him and start assembling stuff to work on Jotaro because oh god they messed up and it turns out he’s more injured than they thought and what are they going to do it a Joestar dies because they were careless (his last name not actually being Joestar an unimportant thing at the moment, because he has the blood and he has the birthmark and that’s all that matters).

Jotaro then makes a sort of offhand comment that his head hurts or that he has a headache or something, and Joseph immediately takes off his grandson’s hat and rubs his good hand against Jotaro’s head. Not only does he see the blood from the wound left there, but he sees the shine of a blade and gasps. He asks Jotaro about it, to which Jotaro replies that Star Platinum must have knocked the handle/base (whatever it’s called) off when he was blocking the road sign. Which freaks Joseph out, because he has no idea what that means (why would Star Platinum be blocking a road sign?? (because Dio, of course, but Joseph was unconscious/dead/whatever for that)).

Then Jotaro just kind of mutters and passes out on Joseph’s shoulder, sending the old man into a complete panic. His family had a history of dying young, and maybe he had avoided that, but that was probably because he tricked death by having a funeral at age 18, so that didn’t count. And what would he tell Holly if her only son died? Wait, was Holly even okay? Did they kill Dio in time? Did that actually solve the Stand problem? He needed to call Suzy, too, to make sure Holly was still okay….

So then Jotaro becomes the SPW medical team’s top priority and they remove the blade, leaving Jotaro unconscious for a little while, but alive. He eventually wakes up with a pounding headache, one that would be just a taste of the many nights and days to come spent staring at a chart or wall as the world distorted around him and his head felt like it was partying with a sledgehammer.

Loud noises would tend to bring on headaches, as would strong smells and bright lights, so Jotaro would grow even more fond of being alone. And, eventually, the ocean. Sure the water had a slight smell to it, and the hum of whatever machinery ran the boat he was on or the equipment he was using meant he wasn’t always in complete silence, but it was a lot better than while on land. Plus, the ocean could be dark. No bright flashing lights from a nighclub in its middle, and no one holding up a stereo or yelling at their boyfriend floating on its waves (for the most part, that was. Sometimes drunks would find their way into the water, but that usually didn’t happen in places where he studied).

Occasionally his migraines would be bad enough that he’d have to take the day off, but for the most part he could manage. On bad days he’d just take some pain pills and glower his way out of any conversations, succeeding in avoiding confrontations that would aggravate his condition for the most part. His co-workers learned not to ask him what was wrong, either, which was good. Because Egypt was a secret kept between him, his grandfather, and Polnareff. And his mother and grandmother, to an extent (not to mention the SPW), but mainly the three who survived it. And only his grandfather and the foundation knew about the head wound, too. He had never managed to tell his mother about it, because he knew shed worry. Suzy had probably managed to figure something out along the line, but neither he nor Joseph had explicitly told her, so she likely didn’t know the exact details.

And that was the way Jotaro liked it. Migraines were a pain, and he would love to get rid of them, but if they were the price he had to pay for living, he didn’t mind too much.

#oh my god this is way longer than i thought it would be. i mean i think about all of this a lot but i only meant to write the 1st part #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #stardust crusaders #jotaro kujo #jjba3 #jaatext #jaaheadcanons #also sorry about any typos i did this on my phone #jaapost #szpost

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