#brain situation. has helped with the pain tho

[milkweedman]

Is it insane to start knitting a sweater when youve only spun like 1/15 of the yarn youll need for it ? Asking for me (i have already started ...)

[hopefullyababe]

uh oh girls.

[cerealboxlore]

hey so to add on to deaged billy, what if he as captain marvel often says “do good and good will follow” to the league, but as billy he ends up saying “no good deed goes unpunished”

i wanna see the league’s reaction to that

i also want him to have a super emotional scene where he saves someone despite the danger it puts him in and says with a breaking voice “sure no good deed goes unpunished, but it makes a difference. a small difference but a difference”

another thing i want is for when he turns back into marvel (assuming his identity isn’t discovered) that one of the leaguers (i’m imagining hal? idk tho) remarking on how feral he was as a child and marvel responding with the most feral grin to ever grin “who says i ever stopped?” and then switching back immediately to his normal marvellous self

I apologize for not getting to this ask soon enough, but wowie it has been dancing a real show stopping number in my brain cells for some time now.

First of all, I absolutely adore the "no good deed goes unpunished" motto for Billy as himself, seeing as when he is not Captain Marvel, he is more vulnerable to the truths and dangers of the world, and his experience in it has molded him into the pure of heart, yet bitter, child, he is today. Billy believes in the best in people and believes in doing good for others, but he doesn't believe in himself (to be worthy or deserving of anything good in return).

And I can totally see a scene happening where Billy continues to stand up against major threats and villains, despite only being in his mortal form with no magic or strength to him.

Maybe he's in Metropolis when a magical disturbance problem happens, and knowing Lex Luthor, he'd take advantage of a situation to take down superman with something he isn't good against. Lois Lane could be in danger while Superman is busy fighting a magical foe that Billy can't fight for once due to his inability to transform back into Captain Marvel, and seeing her about to get hurt pushes Billy to help her. He pushes her out of harms way but in doing so, leaves himself vulnerable to an attack and gets himself blasted across the room, injuring his tiny mortal self.

The pain is immense. It's worst than anything uncle Ebeneezer or muggers would make him feel. He knows that he's bleeding, he knows that his ribs cracked and heard his bones snap, but he refuses to lay down. Billy Batson may not have the powers of Captain Marvel at the moment, but Billy Batson, has the courage of Billy Batson.

He willingly stands up for what he believes in and is willing to fall for it, too. He doesn't care what others think, he just cares if they are safe.

Gosh, Imagine Billy Batson standing up to fist fight Lex Luthor. Small child gonna be roasting him for being bald and having an inferiority complex, haha. Or just kick him in the groin and run away 🏃‍♂️

As for the last thing you mentioned with Billy being a feral child, both in his mortal form and champion form, I love it. I am here for Billy being feral 24/7.

Superman: It's good to have you back as yourself, Captain. I have to say though, it was strange seeing you as the child you were. You were...how do I say this...

Hal: Feral. Rabid. An ungodly child who bit plastic man for stealing his doughnut.

Superman: Yes. What he said. If you don't mind me asking, what happened to you as a child that encouraged such good behavior and manners that we see in you in the present??

Hal: Pft, yeah, I think spooky wouldn't mind some advice on how to become a tame boy scout for his own herd of feral kids.

Captain Marvel, smirking: Well, hold on. You're assuming I stopped. I never said I did.

With the spirit of Billy in him, he gives them a wink with a cheeky smile, warning them of what was to come if he ever felt like it.

Feral Billy showing up in his Captain Marvel form reminded me of this fic on AO3, where Captain Marvel plays a prank on his coworkers about telling them his real age, then when they freaked out, said it was April Fool's. Cyborg knew though. Cyborg suffered in knowing the truth.

I'll reblog this with the link to the fic when I find it! I think you'd like it (if you haven't already read it).

[valenteal]

Kunikida is an asshole tho right? I’m not the only one who genuinely doesn’t like him right? Dazai brush it off and makes it seem like playful banter but the way Kunikida treats him is abusive and unlike pretty much every other instance of abuse in this series it’s happened in a legitimate business that actually try’s to be moral. It isn’t the norm or what’s expected. It is not ok to strangle your co-worker just because they’re being annoying. And the show actually said the bandage squandering machine comment actually hurt Dazai. Not to mention the way he responded to Atsushi’s kidnapping or just Kyouka in general. He has good intentions and he’s a good person but he’s inflexible in the worst way. In his attempt to balance his idealism and his pragmatism he created rigid conditions to determine when a situation was worth his time or attention. Because he acknowledges that he can’t help everybody he decided to do his absolute best at the agency and to help people only if it’s for the agency. He doesn’t do things for people. He does them for his ideals. He didn’t want to help when Atsushi was kidnapped, he wasn’t willing to help Kyouka, and he didn’t join the others in avenging the coffee man. He has little to no loyalty to anyone else, his loyalty is to his ideals and thus to himself.

The thing that really made me realize how bad he is is a scene from 55 minutes that no one seems to talk about. Right after Dazai literally dies and is brought back to life only through a lot of luck and planning this happens:

“‘… Now I’ll have to come up with a new plan to kill myself. But—’

‘DAZAAAAAAI’

‘Oof?!’

Kunikida drop-kicked Dazai from the side, nearly breaking him in two and sending him flying to the ground.

‘HOW… MANY TIMES… ARE YOU GOING TO… SCREW UP THE JOB… BECAUSE YOU CAN’T SIT STILL?!?! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH… WE HAD TO GO THROUGH… TO BRING YOU BACK TO LIFE…?!?!’

‘Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! Kunikida, please stop kicking and choking and yelling at me!’

‘The hell are you talking about?! ‘Finally managed to die’? You’re no longer human! You don’t deserve that right! If you really want to die that much, I’ll kill you myself!…’”

See this really pisses me off. Dazai was stabbed and he bled out. He died. Yosano was only able to save him when he was in a limbo between life and death, during the half a second between his heart starting again and his blood actually reaching his brain. Her ability, despite what some people seem to think, isn’t perfect. It isn’t a magical cure all in an instant. She has to work at it, use it multiple times. She used her ability on Junichiro 4 times. She could only heal Dazai for a fraction of a second. He wasn’t better. He was just not actively dying. And Kunikida goes and beats him up. Dazai actually asked him to stop. He doesn’t usually do that. He was actually in pain and making truly concerning remarks about his suicidal ideation. And the no longer human comment? Saying Dazai doesn’t deserve to feel the way he does? That’s one of Dazai’s deepest insecurities and Kunikida says it like it’s nothing. That’s a really shitty thing to do.

And considering previous things in the book, we do know that Kunikida isn’t happy with Dazai. This isn’t just worry manifesting in anger. He was mad at Dazai before this happened. He was forcibly reminded of Dazai’s history and his willingness to do terrible things.

“‘You’re a demon in human skin. You know that?’ expressed Kunikida in utter disgust…”

Now, I’m not defending Dazai or saying that Kunikida is wrong to be upset, but he is using language that he knows will get to Dazai. He isn’t saying Dazai is doing terrible things, he’s saying he’s a demon, that he’s not human. He’s dehumanizing and abusing a co-worker, he’s lashing out with the most hurtful things he can. And the worst part is that his behavior is so normalized that everyone brushes it off or interprets it as his way of showing affection. They think it’s a weird friendship, that Dazai and Kunikida balance each other. They don’t, not outside a fight. The dynamic they have is seriously fucked up. Our introduction to them is literally Dazai trying to kill himself to get away from Kunikida, okay? That’s a red flag. Kunikida is a major asshole. And I think we need to acknowledge that, just like we all agree that Dazai is also a major asshole.

[the-crimson]

Ok so after writing my observations yesterday on q!bbh’s delusions about the egg photos and reading this post by the wonderful @kadextra I started thinking about the relationship between q!bbh’s self harm and his delusions.

Both are coping methods for the immense pain of losing the eggs and q!bbh’s failure to protect them. Gonna put an early cut cuz I’m gonna be talking about self harm and suicide idealization so if these are triggering topics, take care of urself and read at ur own pace.

There are hundreds of different reasons (often subconscious) why people commit acts of self harm but some of the more common ones are cries for help, externalizing internal pain, and punishing oneself. I think bbh’s self harming tendencies steam from all three, in addition to a general lack of self worth but that is nothing new to mr I popped 25 totems no big deal.

The eggs are bbh’s world and he failed them. When he first fed himself to the vultures, it was only a couple days after the eggs had vanished. Long enough for the hope that they’d return to fade and for the reality of the situation to sink in. They are gone. He failed them.

Bad may have justified it to himself that he was continuing Dapper’s work but deep down he was punishing himself for failing by physically destroying his body in addition to externalizing his internal pain. Now what do I mean by that? Internal/emotional pain can feel irrational and helpless because it’s all inside. Physically hurting oneself gives a person an element of control over their pain and a justification for why everything hurts. It makes it easier to manage even tho this is incredibly dangerous and unhealthy. When life or emotions feel out of control, self harm can feel revolutionary and like you are taking your agency back. Brains are weird.

Bad fed himself to the soul vultures for two weeks before he stopped. At first, he was in their spawning area seemingly collecting soul hearts - even though there was no need because Dapper collected over a stack of them. Then, he moved to Ron’s cell where he allowed the vultures to eat him while Ron watched/listened. In both instances, bbh has a “logical” reason for doing what he’s doing but the moment you think about it for two seconds his reasoning falls apart because the true purpose is self harm. Dapper already collected a bunch of the hearts and there are a million different ways bbh could psychologically torture Ron besides actively hurting himself as well.

All of this is also a desperate cry for help. Bad doesn’t hide the wounds the vultures left and even after he stopped letting them eat him, the wounds continue to get worse. Whatever the vultures did to him/bad did to himself has left a very visible indication that he is deteriorating quickly. Everyone has told him there is something wrong and he doesn’t try to hide it or cover up what has them worried. Bad doesn’t notice because he can’t, because he doesn’t care, because he doesn’t matter. But it is a clear indication to others that something is deeply wrong and he needs help even if he’d be kicking and screaming trying to resist.

Another common reason for self harm occurs when someone has severe depression. Depression isn’t just “I’m sad”. Depression is “I feel nothing”. My mom once described it as literally the world loses its color. When Foolish lit bbh on fire and Bad said something along the lines of thanks I can feel something - it was played as a joke but that is a legit thing. Some people commit acts of self harm just so they feel something. Feeling something is better than nothing. At least then you know ur alive. I can also see this being a factor in bbh’s self harming practices.

What interests me the most is when Bad stops letting the vultures eat him: when he starts indulging in his delusions about the eggs in the photos. He trades one coping method for another.

Instead of externalizing the pain and punishing himself, he enters a fantasy where the pain doesn’t exist because the eggs are right here. He gives himself a moment of respite from the pain so that he has the strength to continue carrying it. But as we saw, this eroded his ability to tell reality from fiction and lead to a full blown dissociative mental break down.

Then what happens a couple days after his break down? We see him once again allowing a vulture to attack him. He’s leading it around like a pet in broad daylight. Yesterday was incredibly triggering for bbh because he was forced to face the dead eggs as well as his eggs that are missing/may wind up dead any moment. If Aypierre hadn’t accidentally triggered bbh’s break a few days ago I definitely think this would have triggered it. Not only talking to the dead eggs but being faced with the possibility that Bad might be digging seven more graves soon would be more than enough to break him.

Bad’s self harm in this instance was a grounding method. To keep him here, in the present. Who knows how long he spent on the church roof preparing himself for visiting the dead eggs. He was literally sitting there trying to stop himself from dissociating because he knew how important it was to keep the egg’s memory alive. He knew how much it meant to Dapper.

The fact that bbh risked everyone finding out about Dapper’s soul vultures just so he could keep himself present enough to visit the eggs is insane. His priorities are so incredibly skewed and we see this in everything he does. He is both completely blind to the consequences of his actions while intensely aware of the spiderweb he’s weaving across the island. He doesn’t care if anything happens to him and fully expects himself to die at some point. He doesn’t care about potentially spilling Dapper’s soul vulture secret because he’s already let the cat out of the bag on scanners. He doesn’t care if Dapper hates him for revealing their secrets. All he cares about is Dapper coming back safe and sound - with or without Bad.

I honestly think a part of Bad wants to die. This whole experience has hurt him so much that I don’t think he thinks there is a way back. Even if the eggs return, his failure remains and all the drastic measures he’s taken can’t be erased. Tragedy follows bbh everywhere he goes. He has painted history with blood. Maybe he thinks dying to save the kids will redeem him in some way. I doubt bbh will actually die or die permanently but the character definitely plans on sacrificing and potentially dying one way or another. All he needs to do is hold out long enough for his plan to come to fruition which means employing what ever coping methods he can to survive his grief, but once it’s done… idk and I don’t think bbh knows either.

Now we’ll just have to see what bbh does next. If he continues self harming with the vultures or indulging in delusions or tries something new and more desperate/dangerous. I trust at the end of all this cc!bbh will give us a happy ending but it’s always darkest before the dawn and I feel like we’ve got a lot of night left.

[the-archxr]

Bestieeeeee, I've got another one for youu :)))

HEAR ME OUT- how are my bois reacting to the reader having to use a safe word during 👹💃

Only if you want to/have time tho lol.

Thank youu ♡

MARC - so because of his trauma, the last thing Marc wants to do is hurt you. Even if you tell him your limits and how far you’re okay with going, I feel like there are some things he’d be super hesitant with and just wouldn’t ever try. Hence, the safe word. So when you’re on the precipice of your fourth orgasm of the night, so over stimulated that you cry “watermelon”, Marc’s brain shuts off. It’s the kind of immediate reaction that just screams at him “oh, no, what did you do?” and soon after he’s pulling away from you, and clambering off the bed. He’d definitely try to go and leave you alone because his initial reaction is you need space and time away from him. You having to say your safe word would scare him so much that you’d end up finding him sitting in the corner of the bathroom. And then for the rest of the night, you’d be consoling him; trying to convince him that you didn’t say that cause he hurt you, but because he was making you feel too good. It would take a lot of gentle kisses pressed into his forehead and your hands stroking his to get him to even look at you without worry. But the two of you work it out, because you always do.

STEVEN - so I feel like every once in a while, with his frustrations from Marc, work—everything—he takes them out on you when he’s fucking you. Imagine, hard snapping of the hips, bruising pace: enough to take your breath away. Something completely unlike your precious Steven. But of course as much as you love it, you get sore because he’s unrelenting. So you have to mumble the word twice for him to snap out of it; to get out of his head and focus on you. But once he is focused, then, oh lord, does he pamper the fuck out of you. He feels bad (obviously), but instead of turning away like Marc, he embraces you. He’d be getting you a cool rag and would help clean you up. Would be the one to dress you and tuck you into bed saying, “no, love. You’ve done enough. We can continue another time.” And then he’d be getting you your laptop, snuggle under the covers with you and watch movies for the rest of the night until you fall asleep.

JAKE - so Jake is exceptionally sure of himself. Somehow, even when he’s not fronting he has control—a handle on any situation. Which also means that he can tell when you’re enjoying yourself, and when you’re not instantly. So I feel like you obviously have a safe word with Jake, but half the time it never comes to that because he’s incredibly in tune with you. It all started in the shower. You were both slippery, your legs struggling to keep themselves wrapped around his waist as you bounced up the wall with each thrust. The whole thing, from the position to the steam, was making you uncomfortable. So when you wince at one particular thrust, where the skin on your back gets pinched because part of you was still stuck to the wall, Jake stops. “Princesa?” He’d see the pained look on your face, the hesitant grip on his shoulders and that would be enough for him to pull out of you and set you down. “When somethings wrong, or you don’t like something, tell me.” He’d grumble into your shoulder before ushering you beneath the water and washing the rest of your body.

✨the-archxr thots✨

[transmutationisms]

(delete spaces) have you read this article/if so what did you think? reminded me of some of the stuff you post about in the sense that so often people will just latch onto """science""" as self-help

https:// www.washingtonpost .com /books/2023/08/02/body-keeps-score-grieving-brain-bessel-van-der-kolk-neuroscience-self-help/

hadn't seen this particular article, but i've been frustrated with van der kolk for a while now. i think the reporter's explanation here (that we seek neuroscientific explanations for our emotions because it provides simple answers) is not quite on the money: imo this is a result of a larger issue where disability under conditions of capitalism can only ever be 1) you're not trying hard enough, or 2) a completely biological problem that has no ramifications beyond your individual pathology, and could one day be fixable by technological advance. and even getting that second designation is damn near impossible. so i completely understand why people find explanations like van der kolk's (or the chemical imbalance description of depression, eg) to be appealing. challenging these narratives has to be done from a disability rights perspective, where we're not just saying these theories are scientifically ungrounded (tho they are) but that we're demanding a world in which disability is allowed to exist as part of the human condition, and people are cared for at all ability levels and not valued for their 'productivity'. obviously this is a whole paradigm shift that can only happen under conditions of communist production; until that point i think we will always continue to struggle with seductive self-help explanations like van der kolk's, because we're in a situation where these are often the only explanations people have available to them that even remotely validate the existence of the trauma and pain they're experiencing.

[dgalerab]

yoooo adding a feverish delirious Aizawa into the mix just fucking (chefs kiss) the whole situation. it takes them a few days to find him and the villains had just basically dropped Aizawa on the floor of a utility closet, occasionally borderline water boarding the man when they pour water past the gag to keep him hydrated, meanwhile his injuries from the fight have been festering. he's disgustingly sick, trembling and confused and the only things he can think about are how in pain he is and where are his friends why aren't they helping him??? he can barely lift his head, probably couldn't open his eyes even if they weren't blindfolded, and he's just trapped in his own head in absolute terror waiting to be rescued. one of the first things he coherently processes since being taken is hearing Mic's voice again during the exchange and he's instantly calling for him in his confusion.

it also adds more flavour to sick fic scenarios after the fact bc maybe getting ill gives him flashbacks to being kidnapped and he becomes even more miserable and needing to be taken care of post rescue any time he gets really sick. just not letting Mic leave his side despite the fact he keeps reassuring Aizawa that he'll be right back, he's just getting him one of his jelly packs.

also Cloud, an idiot with one brain cell trying to set erasermic up: purposefully catches a bug and coughs on Aizawa to get him sick so Mic has to dote on him. (Mic will absolutely get him for it later)

fdksfj honestly tho tbf they're all the smart friend and the dumb friend. instead of one braincell they juggle they actually have many many braincells but they distribution is constantly in flux. shirakumo would have some devious plans to get erasermic in Romantic Situations but he also can go full idiot boys with either one of them at the drop of a hat

also delirious h/c is always soooooooo difficult for me as a person with moderate common sense bc i'm always like i waaaaant them to snuggle up and gently cradle aizawa and keep a cool cloth on his head while he's blinking at them trying to keep his eyes open (which he always stubbornly does. is the worst guy to try to get to sleep when sick, when his brain isn't working he always defaults to MUST KEEP EYES OPEN JUST IN CASE)

BUT

in my heart i know that they gotta take that man to a hospital and get him on antibiotics

[trickstarbrave]

did you think that was it? HA HA you dont even know me. when my brain has worms in it it writes like crazy

heres part 3 bc i have no self control. part 2 can be found here

once again content warnings for abuse being discussed, sexual assaulted mentioned, slavery, some transphobia, drugs mentioned. that will prob be for the whole concubine au even tho its mostly horny shenanigans of acting like they are concubine and master.

oh look we actually got to some smut this time

--

In his old room, Nerevar waited impatiently, fingers drumming on the soft, plush bed. 

It felt surreal to be back in his childhood bedroom. His actual childhood bedroom, as far as he was concerned. At his uncle’s old house in the spare, shitty room his mother and he slept in was never his. He never decorated it. Never liked being in it. It was just a place he laid his head when it was time to sleep. When the house was destroyed along with the rest of their town in a daedra attack, Nerevar didn’t even care. 

This room though was his. Something to call his own. A gift. A refuge. A place he felt genuinely safe and comfortable. The old patchwork rugs and artwork may seem to clash or make little sense to anyone else, but they were things he chose and bought. Voryn encouraged him to make the space his own from a young age, and he did. In the corner hidden by his bed he and Voryn wrote their names in daedric script, and the incense of Azura clung to the sheets. While most of House Dagoth focused their worship on Mephala, Nerevar kept iconography of all the good daedra in his room. So many memories from his childhood and young adult life were woven into the room.

Yet the two years he was gone made it seem like a lifetime away. The old sheets, the scent of the bed, the old artwork, the incense for Mephala he could faintly smell down the hall… All of it seemed at once familiar and alien. 

Two years with that bastard felt like decades or even centuries. Nerevar never ‘broke’ like Dres Anaryl wanted, but that didn’t mean he didn’t suffer. Pain became the norm. He never felt safe, not even when he laid his head down to sleep, because it was inevitable the bastard would come in and wake Nerevar up by having his way with him. No matter how much he planned, he always seemed just out of reach of actual freedom. He could have killed Anaryl and run off to Kogoruhn in disguise, but he didn’t want to put Voryn in danger. Not to mention, if he got caught after killing his old ‘master’ and escaping, that would mean even more torment, far more extreme than what he was already having a hard time coping with. 

So he did what he could to survive. He turned to sweet talking and begging guards and a few lower nobles. Kissed up and flirted for alcohol, then skooma when it did a better job numbing him out from the pain. At least sex was survivable when he closed his eyes, blissed out from moon sugar in his veins, and imagined it was Voryn instead. At first he felt guilty imagining Voryn in such a situation, but soon lost that hesitancy when he needed it just to stay sane. 

It was hard to believe it was over. Or at least, hopefully over. If they played their cards right, they could pull the wool over the other nobles’ eyes. But even though he knew he was safe within the stronghold, he couldn’t help but find himself jumpy and nervous. Being alone made him all the more anxious, something that was never the case before. Instead he took solace in Voryn coming to check up on him when he thought Nerevar was asleep, enjoying the sound of his breathing and how he shuffled around the room, stroking Nerevar’s hair. Even the healers fretting over him and casting healing spells or dressing his wounds was a relief as it reminded him he was in Kogoruhn, not lying in wait for Dres Anaryl to storm in and take him. 

Nerevar didn’t know if his reactions were too extreme or not extreme enough. Was he supposed to not be bothered by it now that he was ‘saved’? Or was he supposed to be waking up screaming from night terrors crying like the vulnerable maidens who were raped in stories? Was he processing it fully, or trying to close his mind off from the trauma? Nerevar didn’t know. Maybe in several years time it would all come crashing down on him like a house with a shitty foundation. Or maybe it would gradually settle in, slow and steady, like waves worn down rocks into sand. 

But Nerevar didn’t like dwelling on it too much. He wasn’t out of danger yet. They still had far more to worry about. How much time until the other nobles from House Dres showed up? Who of them would be coming? Most importantly, would Nerevar and Voryn be able to play their roles convincingly? 

Honestly, he was most anxious about the last point. They both had memorized their cover story, but that was only part of the battle. The story was that Nerevar left Kogoruhn after a fight with Voryn’s brother and Voryn tried to force his affections on Nerevar. After which he kept hunting Nerevar down, determined to bring him back by force if necessary, acting as a kind and caring friend just concerned about Nerevar’s disappearance. Then, seeing him as a slave, couldn’t help but buy him for a large sum of money so he could have Nerevar all to himself with no hope of escape. It made logical sense--at least to any outsiders.

But that story only worked if they could act the part. Nerevar had to play a disobedient concubine being held by force by a former friend, and Voryn had to play a callous young lord whose love and desires had turned into something sinister and possessive. All the while, Nerevar was also doing a careful dance, trying hard not to let his actual feelings and desires slip up, though he was honestly hoping playing the part would remind him of his days in chains rather than the memories he had of admiring his closest friend with a fluttering heart. 

Nerevar tried to shove those thoughts away. Even if Voryn found out Nerevar was genuinely attracted to him, he doubted Voryn would just throw him to the mercy of House Dres. At best it might make their acting slightly awkward, but nothing they couldn’t cover up. Mostly Nerevar just wanted those feelings hidden to preserve some modicum of dignity in the face of all the overwhelming humiliation he was subjected to. 

The door opened, Nerevar finally freed of his hectic thoughts for a bit. Voryn came in, still looking over a report from the healers.

“Anything new?” Nerevar asked. Most of his injuries were healed by now, besides the long lasting effects like weight loss and some malnutrition. Those would need time to correct, after all. His slight skooma dependency they were managing with low doses of the slightly safer moon sugar and lots of restoration herbs, which helped with the shaking, migraines, and nausea.

“Most of it looks good.” Voryn remarked. “The addiction is being handled well. The chief healer Llevena said she had expected worse, but you’re at an even lower dose she anticipated you needing. Only issue really is sleep.” Nerevar winced slightly at that. “But she’s going to try some herbal teas or medication to help soothe you to sleep without that poison.” 

“Well that’s good at least.” Nerevar never thought he would be the type to turn to skooma. But when everything hurt and being coherent was torture, the bliss skooma could bring was incomparable. At first, it just got the job done, but he found himself craving it more and more. It was the only thing that could make him feel good, even just somewhat. He felt warm and fuzzy and secure, his body tingly and laughter on his tongue like he was up late drunk and talking with Voryn. He felt serene and happy, things he was sorely missing in his life sober while enslaved. Now, even though he was safe, he still felt restless when he laid his head on the pillow.

“Only thing of concern is…” Voryn sighed. “The other things you were taking.” Nerevar raised an eyebrow, before Voryn continued. “The birth control.”

Ah. Right. Nerevar had gotten so used to it that he barely processed it. No matter what, he made sure to secure that at least. He would steal herbs or make very unfair deals with servants--whatever he could do. Dres Anaryl, sick fuck that he was, tried very hard to make Nerevar carry his child. 

If Nerevar was pregnant, it would be harder for him to try to leave. Not to mention, Anaryl got a thrill from degrading Nerevar and reminding him despite all the flesh sculpting and magic, he could still get knocked up like a woman. Anaryl didn’t even want a child running around, he just wanted a pawn he could use against Nerevar. It would be harder to leave even after birth if he was afraid of leaving his own flesh and blood behind, after all. 

Nerevar could handle the beatings, the rape, and the abuse. But he couldn’t handle that. He couldn’t handle his body being violated to that extent--forced to carry a child of the man he fucking hated, bringing a child into the world who shouldn’t have been born. Nerevar knew the pain of being an unwanted child people resented for even being born, and didn’t want to inflict that on some poor infant who never chose to be alive. 

“It put a lot of stress on your organs.” Voryn explained. “Luckily nothing that will endanger you, but we’ll have to keep monitoring your health for a few years. The skooma was certainly not helping on that front.” Nerevar let him talk, not meeting his eyes, just letting the information sink in. “The most lasting issue is you may be infertile from overusing such a badly formulated potion.” 

It was something Nerevar had expected. It wasn’t that Nerevar never wanted kids of his own--he did, in fact, but only on his terms where he could give his children the full attention and love they deserved--but it was a small price to pay. He’d rather lose the ability to have any altogether than bring a child into the world in such horrible circumstances. 

But his reasoning didn’t stop numbness from settling in. He felt… Off kilter. Not real. 

“Neht…” Voryn whispered, before setting the paper aside and gently cupping his cheeks. Wait, why were his cheeks wet? He wasn’t crying, was he? He blinked, as more droplets fell from his eyes and clung to his lashes. He didn’t feel like this was something worth crying over at the moment, so why was he? 

Still, the firm embrace Voryn wrapped him in was more than welcomed, the numbness changing to a dull ache that was gently being soothed. 

“It’s alright, there’s treatment for it.” Voryn assured him. “If you want to, I can have the healers work on reversing it.” Voryn continued to wipe the tears from his face with gentle, tender movements that made Nerevar’s heart soar and anxiety settle in his stomach. He felt unworthy of such a warm touch, but he wanted it more than anything. It felt like a balm on his aching heart.

“What about our act?” Nervar whispered. If they reversed it and Nerevar fell pregnant now that would only complicate things more. It might be better to just let him be unable to have kids of his own as the price of his freedom.

“We’ll use sigils and magic instead.” Magic and sigils were more time consuming giving you had to do so every time, not to mention required being trained in magic, but it would give his body a break. “Don’t worry about that, Neht. I’ll take care of it.” 

Nerevar let himself sink into the embrace, breathing in the scent of Voryns’ robes. Here, being held by him, he felt safe and serene. Much more than even when he used skooma. He could give himself a quiet reprieve, at least for a few moments until his tears dried up. 

Then, with a shaky sigh, he pulled himself away, looking back up at Voryn. “We still need to practice.” 

“Are you sure?” Voryn looked anxious about the prospect, still no doubt worried about hurting Nerevar further. Nerevar couldn’t even blame him given he had just started crying for no gods damned reason it seemed, and he was not in any mood to start practicing the act, but he knew they might not have much time. It could be months until they traced Nerevar’s disappearance back to Voryn, but more than likely it would only take a few weeks. He could process his feelings once they were in the clear, rather than wallowing in his confusing mess of emotions and losing valuable time to prepare. 

 “We need to.” Nerevar stressed, before taking Voryn’s hand and giving a squeeze. “But like I said, safe words and boundaries, alright? We’ll take it slow, and I know you’ll stop if I ask you to.” Voryn nodded, but his eyes were uncertain. 

“Of course I will.” Voryn replied. “Did you have any safe words in mind?” 

Nerevar had given it considerable thought, mulling over the choice for some time. “Honestly? The best ones I could come up with are colors.” He explained. “Gives us some versatility to incorporate them in conversations during the act if we need to stop too.” He was trying to think ahead, after all. The last thing he needed was panicking in front of the nobles because Voryn wasn’t stopping, risking the whole plan collapsing. “Yellow for slow down or as a warning, red for a hard stop.” Nerevar explained. “Say, I am starting to dislike the way you’re talking in front of the nobles and I’m getting uncomfortable. I could say I really dislike the yellow robes you bought me… You get the picture.” 

“It could work.” Voryn replied. “And anything off the table before we even start?”

“Don’t choke me.” Nerevar’s voice was harsh, if not slightly unsteady. He brought one hand up to his throat, gently rubbing it. “He would always choke me out whenever I really pissed him off, because he knew how scared I ended up getting…” He felt genuinely powerless then, as he felt the blood leave his head and his body going into survival mode. Pure panic always ran right through him like ice in his veins, before his consciousness began to slip. Those moments his brain was always afraid he was really going to die, suffocating to death as his lungs burned. 

“I won’t.” Voryn reassured him. “How much touching is off limits there?” He asked, his voice soft and gentle. Fuck--he really seemed so sweet right now, much sweeter than Nerevar felt he needed to be, but it wasn’t unwelcomed. 

“Just… Don’t apply pressure on my throat, I guess?” Nerevar tried to think it through. Tentatively, Voryn reached a hand up, stroking the side of his neck.

“This is alright?” Nerevar shuddered slightly. The gentle touch was different from how he was used to being touched. His neck was still very much sensitive, to the point he hated all the noises that a bastard could pull out of him just biting and sucking on it. 

“Yeah…” Nerevar shakily replied. “Yeah, that’s fine…” His eyes fluttered shut as he tried to relax his body. It was certainly a lot easier to enjoy this with Voryn being the one to touch him.

“Anything else?” Voryn asked, his voice soft and low, soothing him further. 

“... Be…” Nerevar took a deep breath. It would be embarrassing to say, but he knew it was important. “Be careful with penetration.” 

“Should I avoid it?” 

“I mean, if you want to…” Nerevar gasped softly as Voryn began stroking the shell of his ear, making it twitch slightly. “Just make sure I’m properly wet. Or better, use lube.” Nerevar hated how the guy seemed to delight in taking Nerevar dry, watching him bleed or be unable to even sit properly without pain. 

“Of course.” Voryn whispered, “I’d never dream of hurting you like that.” Nerevar knew, but it felt important to say. He might not rush it during practice, but if they were acting and someone was listening in, he might be tempted to to get it over with. 

“That’s… It for now.” Nerevar swallowed. “If anything else comes up, I’ll… Tell you.” 

Voryn’s other hand came up to Nerevar’s face, cupping his cheek again. Only instead of wiping away tears, his thumb was playing with Nerevar’s lower lip, pressing on and thumbing the soft flesh. Combined with him still playing with his ear, Nerevar couldn’t help but let his mouth fall open in soft, breathy gasps.

“Good boy.:” Voryn praised, and Nerevar felt a jolt of pleasure run through him. Fuck--he really enjoyed the sound of that, his thoughts growing muddled. 

Then, Voryn leaned in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to Nerevar’s lips. It was tender, almost romantic if happening in other circumstances, like they were two lovers kissing for the first time. As much as Nerevar enjoyed the soft little kiss, he knew it didn’t suit the act at all. 

“Rougher.” Nerevar corrected him, his voice soft and eyes still closed. “You need to kiss me rough and hard if you want them to believe it.” 

Voryn tried again, still fairly tame at first, but quickly worked up to rough, possessive kisses. Never painful, unlike Anaryl. They were still plenty warm and enjoyable, as Voryn pressed more weight onto him, forcing him onto the bed. Voryn settled between his legs with almost practiced skill, forcing one of his legs up as their hips pressed together, earning a low groan from Nerevar. 

Already this felt completely different from all the other times he was forced to do it. Maybe it was because it was Voryn, but every touch felt absolutely electric. Part of him felt like he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, but every other part of him was all but screaming for more. To be reminded that being touched could feel good rather than bad. To be reminded how pleasure actually felt. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be struggling?” Voryn asked low, his hot breath fanning over Nerevar’s mouth. Nerevar groaned softly, shifting his hips for a bit more stimulation. “Or do you want to just lay back and let me take care of it right now?” 

“I want to… Get used to this kind of thing.” Nerevar whispered back, trying hard not to sound needy. “It’s--It’s really different than how he would touch me…” His voice trailed off as Voryn pressed a few soft kisses to his ear, before giving a gentle nibble. A long, breathy moan escaped his lips at that, his hips squirming more. 

“Oh?” Voryn asked, low in his ear. “Do you enjoy being my concubine?” He was clearly trying to get the act right, figuring out how he wanted to play that role. But fuck, that was kind of arousing. “Don’t worry, if you behave I’ll treat you very well, Neht…” Another gasp escaped his lips, as his moved his hand to cover his mouth. Quickly, Voryn took his wrist, yanking his hand away firmly but careful not to injure him. 

“Don’t you dare cover that pretty little mouth of yours.” Voryn’s voice came out as a low rumble, a warning. “I want to hear every little sound you make, is that clear?” 

“Y-yes…” Nerevar moaned softly, enjoying the way Voryn ground his hips against Nerevar’s. 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, s-sir…” Nerevar moaned sweetly. “Ah, would you prefer ‘my lord’...?” He asked softly.

“Sir will be fine.” Voryn answered, the corners of his lips tugging up. Voryn then sat up, the touching stopping. Nerevar whined loudly at the loss, before Voryn took him by the jaw firmly. “Hush--” It was sharp and harsh, just like Voryn had when scolding servants. Another jolt of pleasure shot down Nerevar’s spine. “Don’t act so needy.” Voryn then trailed his hand down and around him, giving a tug on Nerevar’s hair, before giving pause to see if Nerevar would stop him. Instead, all Nerevar could do was moan weekly, his leg twitching. His hair being pulled felt good, hence why the other bastard rarely did it. He could tell it had little effect on him, but in Voryn’s hands the action was so much more delightful. After seeing Nerevar had no intention to use their safe word, he continued. “Now, be a good boy and undress for me.” 

Fuck, Nerevar couldn’t seem to get his clothes off fast enough. He started with his tunic, tugging it up and over his head, his breathing quick, before he quickly shimmied his hips out of his trousers after unlacing them. Down to just his undergarments, Voryn stopped him, putting one hand on Nerevar’s. 

“Leave these on.” Voryn ordered. “I’ll take these off myself.” Gods, how wet was Nerevar already? It felt like he had gone years without sex. In truth, he might as well have been. It hardly felt good whatever that bastard was doing to him. He delighted in making it as painful as possible after all, unlike Voryn who was focused on making sure he also felt incredible the whole while. 

One hand slid up his chest, as though taking in the sight of his body. Nerevar’s chest rose and fell quickly, his hips continuing to shift and squirm under Voryn’s. 

“... I’ll need to replace these,” Voryn remarked, rubbing his thumb at Nerevar’s nipple. Nerevar gasped, before moaning loudly. He’d almost forgotten about the piercings. In the past year Anaryl had gotten bored of them, now that they had completely healed and no longer hurt to touch. Instead it left his nipples nice and sensitive, each little touch making Nerevar hiss and moan. “So cheap looking, not at all befitting of my concubine.” Voryn stressed, and Nerevar bit his lip, whining in desire. “Gold will suit my tastes far better…” Oh by the three, Nerevar was going to lose it listening to him talk like this all while teasingly playing with his chest. “A perfect little prize like you deserves only the finest gold and gems adorning your precious body…” 

His act was good, that Nerevar couldn’t deny. It suited the ‘character’ they built well. To Anaryl, Nerevar was a conquest, a toy he wanted to play with until it broke. Here though, he was supposed to be the object of Voryn’s affections, the man he loved so much it turned into a dark obsession. But fuck, it felt so good to have Voryn acting like he was attractive. To be praised and treated like something precious, something Voryn had been eagerly awaiting getting his hands on…

“Your ears too,” His free hand now touched Nerevar’s ear, stroking along the jewelry. “Such cheap metal doesn’t deserve to grace your body…” He took those off, tossing them aside, before leaning close to one of his ears. “I’ll get you looking perfect. Ebony ear cuffs, gold stars, and plenty of precious rubies…” Nerevar could already picture it. “And then I’ll dress you in my colors, leaving not a single doubt of who you belong to.” 

He could see it so clearly--he could see himself resting on a plush pile of pillows like he had so many times, instead  wearing rich red and black rather than grey and white. All the while he’d be covered in precious gems and metals, luxurious gold and ebony, waiting eagerly for Voryn to touch and kiss him. 

“Please…” Nerevar whimpered. “Fuck, please~” 

“This is right where you belong, isn’t it?” Voryn whispered back. “Right under me, whimpering and begging for my touch…” Voryn’s hand trailed down to Nerevar’s crotch, stroking at his sex through the fabric.

“Yes~” Nerevar hissed, his hips squirming. “Gods, yes…” Voryn’s touch felt electric on him, especially as he rubbed back and forth across his clit until his leg was trembling. Incoherent moans spilled out Nerevar’s throat as he relished in the feeling of pleasure after so long without it. 

“You’re being so good for me right now.” Voryn praised him, now slipping his underwear off. “Such a good boy…” The feeling of Voryn’s fingers right against him was even better, the sensation overriding everything else. “Look at this, even your cute little cock is nice and hard for me.” Nerevar’s hips bucked forward at that, moaning louder. He didn’t mind ‘feminine’ terms for his body unless someone said it in a degrading way, but he really enjoyed masculine terms sometimes. It seems Voryn remembered the offhanded comments or jokes Nerevar would make. “You love it, don’t you?” Voryn asked, his voice sultry and warm. “No one else knows you as well as I do, Neht. No one deserves you like I do…” 

His fingers then trailed down, circling around his entrance. Nerevar could tell he was wet, absolutely soaked. Still, he took his time, gently easing a finger in and out, watching Nerevar moan and whine. 

“You’re going to be all mine.” Voryn whispered, low and almost threatening. Nerevar groaned loudly, spreading his legs wider. “You’ll never leave my side again, do you understand me?”

“Yes sir…” Nerevar whined. “I-I understand~” Nerevar tried his best to get into the act too, but he couldn’t bother trying to act combative--not yet. He just wanted to enjoy it a little bit more. He knew next time he’d need to, but he just wanted to feel good from Voryn touching him and making him feel alive after so long. Was it a crime to want to enjoy himself? 

Voryn undid his robes enough to free his cock, removing his fingers to press the head against him. Then, the act slipped, and Voryn looked him in the eyes earnestly. 

“Do you need me to stop?” He asked, hushed. Nerevar could have cried out in frustration, but he knew Voryn was just asking out of concern. 

“If you don’t get inside me,” Nerevar groaned, closing his eyes. “I think I might die…” 

“Let’s take it nice and slow then…” Voryn whispered against his ear. “Let’s just get used to each other’s bodies…” 

[tiredrobin]

ok my lil nightmare headcanons for the guys that i like. six is the most fleshed out and runaway kid is here because i have little aus in my head and i think about all of them . just not as much as i think about six

the most widely applied hc for all of them: the all of them have ptsd but most of the symptoms one might expect for ptsd dont rly express themselves because theyre all basically in survival mode Always, and for symptoms of ptsd to properly express the brain has to be like "oh, right, i'm safe. time to explode" (this is very simplified and im aware theres way more complexity and nuance. just assume literally every hc i present abt anything is more nuanced than this list offers)

six

autism

adhd also

she's (mostly, circumstantially) selectively mute and/or minimally verbal, and my supporting evidence is i want her to be. my second supporting evidence is that she doesn't talk in any of the comics and she doesn't even have a whispered voiceline like "hey!" like mono does. my third supporting evidence is that that i want her to be. in more depth, she CAN be verbal, but it is (as mentioned) circumstantial and related to who she's with and how safe she feels. ie: the door raft is safe enough that she manages to tell mono her name, and in a few situations following she manages to communicate verbally, it's just not something she can do easily in… well, most cases. she's otherwise strongly communicative when she needs to be, and good at getting her point across when necessary

always whispers when she does speak

this is less a hc and more something actively supported by canon, but she WILL help people if it doesn't put her in immediate danger (and even if it does, in some cases) (supporting evidence is ln2 and vln lmao)

gets anxious when people behave vulnerable around her/quick to emotionally shut down/retreat. low empathy, high compassion. (if u think negatively abt this bite me forever and ever and ever cuz ur wrong. this is a completely neutral trait)

even after the tower, she obviously finds comfort and joy in music boxes and music in general (also mostly supported by canon content, i think)

likes to hum when she's alone

struggles with skin-picking

the noisiest she gets is when she's dreaming

physical contact is weird for her, aka it's fine if she expects it and painful/awful if she doesn't (weird exceptions apply to some degree, ie hands are ok/mono taking her hand is almost always fine)

she only hates veggies because no one's ever cooked 'em good for her. girl needs some stir fry

gets cold way easily

mono

autism 2 electric boogaloo

it's just different from six's autism, man, idk

he scripts a lot. on the spot, he has a hard time putting sentences together, but give him a little bit/be patient and he'll manage fine. he's definitely not nonverbal (six is of the opinion that he doesn't know how to shut up, which is a bit of an exaggeration but one that mono doesn't mind), it's just that autism and trauma makes words Hard

so like not nonverbal and not fully speaking but a secret third thing

survivor's guilt in, like, every situation ever

very good at taking the lead when he has a goal and has a hard time stopping to listen to others

but he DOES make a concerted effort to listen to others because he's at least peripherally aware of this fault of his

world's softest speaking voice. it's about as soft as how he whisper-talks the word "hey", pretty much

extremely detail-oriented, which helps a lot when solving puzzle-y situations

yellow is his favorite color

runaway kid:

also autism

i don't have much for them uhhh

they/them-er. they're not picky tho

goes by runa or una. "una" was a joke at first, but it sounds a bit like "uno" and the number theme with the other two just really is too hard for me to resist

will instigate contact but dislikes reciprocation

probably the loudest speaking voice of the three, but that's not really saying much. reflex is to speak lowly or whisper

ok with words. doesn't need to script

probably struggles a lot with touch-focused sensory stuff

[beatupcorpse]

look I made that AU for me and my need of my monkey brothers bcuz this fandom has me completely starved. I JUST WANT BONDING AND PAIN TIMES

the title refers to -SWK's- greatest fear, which is to fail MK so badly that this is how things end up, the kid the Lady's new weapon.

i already said it and kinda showed it in my post but MK takes the hit instead of SWK and immediately this is bad this is terrible he attacking right out of the bat. his hits actually hurt. SWK realizes this is full power MK.

since we know that the possessed are still aware of everything, on MK's sight, getting himself trapped like this just kinda leaves him defeated and becomes the perfect vessel for LBD. doesnt help that he is terrified of this demon

This whole situation is a bit different from possessed!SWK who could hold back punches and fight off his possession even if just a lil bit at first. MK won't get that. He is the perfect weapon for LBD basically. doesn't take much energy to control, equal to SWK in power and cannot hold back. DISASTER

Even worse! His friends don't want to hurt him in the first place! w SWK it was easy because fuck the guy amiright, but this is MK! their friend! Mei's bestie!!!! Dadsy's son!!!!!!!!!!!! it hurts to see MK and be met with souless eyes and murderous intentions

haha.... haaaaaaa...this means that when Mac teams up with them....he and SWK get to have moments oh god I can't let my shipper brain take hold. is FIEN, WE JUST GET MORE DIVORCE ARGUMENTS but also perhaps maybe they are very in sync as they talk about the plan? Mei would probably make fun of em. ok thats it thats all Im giving myself .... and the rest of the time they spent together

aND MAN!! SWK IS JUST SO FILLED WITH GUILT!! probably super numb and serious now. trying to make a plan. muttering to himself. Mei forces him out of his bubble and demands him to act like he is part of the team and share ideas or else they (and MK) are TOAST. and he has to SUCK IT UP AND LISTEN. FOR ONCE!!!!!

we get a "you're right pony girl" "I HAVE A NAME" to light up the mood anyway

bcuz at the end of the day, the team would have to be divided just like in the show, just that instead of MK is SWK. Lucky for Mac tho, in this au he doesn't have to fight MK alone, now he has SWK to take half of the hits. its his time to suffer as he tries to defend himself against his own power, take the staff and try his hardest to not hurt the kid.

whenever he does land a hit on him!! man that feels terrible. LBD taunts him about it. careful there, u wouldn't want to take out ur own student. SWK could maybe win if he put his all, he is the monkey kiing after all. but he would rather take a beating and hear her laugh her head off.

Im not talkin much about Mac bcuz I think he would be taken out of the competition so fast. sad sight. he still tried tho. hes bleeding but not dead he is fine i promise. he is happy to just let SWK take it from there

btw don't think too hard about the staff and how its in MK's hands and not stabbed into the ground just shhhhshshshs. wireless charging the mecha (i actually dont remember if thats what it was doing)

but fuck the staff man. IS DESPERATION TIME! SWK starts talking to MK. he apologizes for everything. he begs. "MK. forget everything Ive told you, listen to me now: you cannot give up"

MK seems to stutter in his next attack. SWK blocks it and keeps talking

"Don't give up on me and especially don't give up on yourself. fight it out kid. I believe in you"

The blue glow of MK's eyes weakens. the sounds of LBD struggling increase the more SWK talks to him. she tries to shut him up. MK now has SWK on a chokehold. Still, the annoying ass monkey won't shut up.

The grip in his neck tightens but he continues

"You have such great friends. You need to keep on fighting for them. They miss you too."

"You're something special bud and not because you are the monkie kid."

His expression starts to change

"I'm proud to be your mentor. Please come back"

and MK snaps out of it.

-

from there I feel like itd be pretty much the same. as u can see the au is not terrible different. is just different enough for me to get SWK being honest and sweet to MK and MK to listen everything he needed to hear. and also pain. I could span on many lil things but is very late and im basically ripping this off my chest so its just out here

oh and also

I get a real hug between them in this AU

[voidselfshipp]

Whirlpool

Cw: body horror,angst,Michaels descent into madness and tma spoilers.

Summary: the night Michael becomes an avatar, he goes to the one person that he knows Will help.

->Only mutuals allowed to reblog.

A/n: havent finished tma yet so I dont know the specifics. Thats not gonna stop me tho,enjoy this hurt/comfort-y fic.

Jerico was just closing up shop for the night,her body is tense, Like the strings of waves that form her faux muscles and skin are taut like ropes on a ship.

Theres something picking at the back of her mind,something that its not sitting right, Like waves breaking against stone,something thats disturbing the water.

Shes about to flip the store's sign to show the back that says "closed".

And then the strangest thing happens,a door appears in the middle of the street, white,simple,unassuming. It reeks with weird magic,spiraling, almost disorienting, her eyes take a second to focus.

"Oh no" her pupils widen and her heart beat is fast and her body feels both weak and strong with the rush of adrenaline, Like a dangerous waterfall.

The door slams with a horrible dry thud sound, a figure collapses onto the wet pavement of the empty street, dead Weight limp.

Jerico's breath leaves her,she doesnt need to breathe but it feels like theres not enough oxygen in the world to supply her thundering heart.

She recognizes the figure,oh yes she does,she recognizes that fluffy Orange hair and that soft mischevious hair. She holds him close to her chest, dragging him to the sidewalk, the door dissipates.

--Michael--jer breathes out,feeling Like shes going to pass out her heads light.

--Jer...ico--Michael has no breath, his eyes are endless swirling spirals that flicker in and out of view, she gets glimpses of his beautiful brown eyes that look like swirling morning coffee with the streetlights.

--What...what happened?--she asked,trying to scoop him into her arms with a desesperation akin to human feelings. His body slips from her grasp like hes melting,like hes literally slipping past her fingers,his flesh like goopy liquid that pools on her Palms.

--I- I think we succeeded.-- he said--But...it hurts,im- I cant move...I could barely- barely get he-here-- he coughs,spitting blood onto the pavement,but it seems to seep into the concrete.

--Al-alright...--She stuttered, confused, mind blank-- lets- lets get inside

The weather is ever indiferent to the situation below it, overcast night, not a ray of moonlight to be seen. Theres a horrible chill in the air, she drags his body to the entrance,his limbs stretching and retracting like his body is struggling to Keep a coherent form.

She gets to the entrance of the shop, she passes like usual but...Michael doesnt. He hits that barrier,she tries one,two,three times,but he cant.

"Hes not human"is the realization that hits her like shes deep,deep underwater under the hadal pressure of the sea.

The only way in for him in is for her to invite him.

Michael knows how the barrier works,she doesnt say it outloud,she has to think it.

"You are allowed in"

Finally,the barrier subsides and lets him in,she lays him across the floor where he is a mess of tangled stretching limbs.

He knows shes worried and scared,he smiles weakly to try and put his hand on her cheek--Hey...hey beautiful its...its...--He cant bring himself to say the words.

--just breathe....--She said softly, stroking his beautiful fluffy Orange hair-- calm down

Michael tries to Keep his mind on her voice, he tries to Keep that smile, to calm jer down as his body burns with searing hot pain. His atoms feel like theyre trying to pull away from eachother and re-arrange in an unatural way, twisted,curling inwards and outwards in a tight,coiling spiral.

Theres a brief silence as she thinks about what to do,hes become an avatar fornThe Spiral. Hes no longer human,and her brain cant think of a protocol to follow, she tossed and turns up all the knowledge she has in her mental library.

So Many stories...so many, there has to be something here somewhere.

And the silent moments drag on and on,painful,stresing. Only broken with Michael's ragged sharp breaths.

--Im..im gong to be okay,right- right jer?--His voice breaks her from her stupor, naively hopeful,cracking with big puppy dog eyes.

Bless her heart,for she cannot lie. So for a moment,shes silent as a grave.

One shaky inhale is all it takes to center in, she clears her throat,nodding to herself as if shes debating within her mind. --Okay...okay-- jerico breathes out, regaining that composture thats so characteristic of her.

Looking down at him,her eyes scan the limbs that grow and retract, she notes that they are slowly subsiding as time passes

Its just like when she first took human form.

Which means...

--Okay,heres what I need you to do--She hates how he looks at her, so trusting of her judgement.-- I need you to breathe, deep,as deep as you can, reach out to your body, your limbs. Theyre still yours, theyll obey you

--my- my whole body hurts-- he says with a pained chuckle.

--Good, well- not good good-- she shakes her head,rolling her shoulder back to stop herself from going off track-- anchor to that pain, one limb at a time, go at your own pace. Itll help you feel your body. Connect with it again,do what feels right

Michael nodds and she knows she doesnt want his life in her hands. Not out of selfishness of course,if something happened to him because a wrong desicion she made,jerico could never forgive herself.

But he does as hes told, his concentrates first on the hand thats on her cheek. He uses the pain across his tendons like conduits, as if hes rewiring his nervous system.

He feels the smoothness of her skin, his thumb strokes her cheekbone, he feels autonomy over his hand, and then the other.

Then,his legs,one at a time.

Finally,his breath becomes normal,still shaky,but stable.

Carefully,he sits up,blinking a little as he settles down. His body feels different, still coiling but...not painfully. He opens and closes his fist, then he looks at jer and finally gives her a genuine smile.

--Th-Thank you-- he says

Jerico scoffs in disbelief before breaking down into loud,loud sobbing. Her throat produces Sharp cries that scratch her vocal chords, she launches himself at him and cries.waterfall of tears, salty and warm.

He holds her and rocks her side to side,cooing-- Im okay,im okay,all thanks to you

She wails with loud sharp cries,muttering things like "I was so scared" , "I dont want to lose you". Moments later shes talking in full spanish and he doest understand a Word.

Jerico is like a banshee by that point,crying and screaming with stress and fear,shes weak and melts against his body that holds her tight like a dam around a waterfall.

--Easy,easy-- he reassured her,soft and lulling-- im okay,im here, Because of you...

His eyes fall on the clock on the far wall and...its already four am. How long have they been at this?

When she pulls away,she looks a mess, eyes red and lip quivering. Her hair falls messily on her face and she can barely hold his gaze.

Michael goes to undo her bun,to let her hair fall naturally around her face. His hand goes to pull back the stray strands when he notices sharp,long claws where his fingers used to be.

--Thats...New-- he mutters,being extra carefull and hooking the ends of his claws to the hairs to pull them back safely.--Just breathe, itll be fine

Jerico does calm down eventually, she sniffs a little and rubbs her eyes. She then looks up at him,has he always been that tall?

--I think...I think we need some tea--He offered with a reassuring smile.

She chuckles,nodding-- alright...okay

He stands up,finding his footing like a newborn deer. Then,he offers his hand and pulls her up, she takes it.

The walk down the corridor and up the stairs to the second floor is deathly silent. She makes tea with a grief filled look in her eyes, she doesnt know how hes going to take the News.

But she settles the cups down on the coffee table when theyre done, she sits by his side and he pulls her into a hug. Jerico is taken by surprise as her green eyes widen and he squeezes her.

Michael takes his tea and drinks from it, sweet and heartwarming that helps him calm down. He looks at her like nothing ever happened, still smiling.

--So...--She says,unsure, faltering-- do- do you know what you are now?

He cleared his throat--I- yes...im an avatar,right? Of- of the spiral

--Yes...

--which means im no longer human-- he followed up,so far he was sort of on boat-- thats why I couldnt pass past the barrier earlier..

Jerico nodded, taking one long sip of her drink. That was enough to unsettle her companion-- what Gertrude mightve not told you,or well- know, is that avatars have a tendency to... lose their humanity as time goes on

He stops what hes doing, and blinks slowly--...What?

--So- so youre basically a vessel for the spiral, youll act on its impulses, you- you might start seeing things its way,not yours-- she sees him start to freak out-- BUT! but you can fight against it,ill...I can help

Michael seems to settle down, and nodds--I- okay,I trust you

And again comes that sting,shes willing to give it a try. She scoots closer and one of his hands cups her cheek, and Michael kisses her. Its brief,meaningful.

--Thank you-- he says with a warm smile.

--Im always here-- she promised, willing to bet her very essence on it-- youre not going to face this alone

All he can give in response is another kiss, still short but embued with love. And once their drinks are finished and the Sky pushes into sunrise,They cuddle on the couch.

The day is still overcast,and the curtains are drawn in her home. Its dark,and cozy,comforting.

Jerico holds on to Michael, close to her chest to Keep him safe,praying and hoping.

However,the Years wouldnt be kind to the New avatar. Even with his trusty friend,Michael doesnt take long to lose what he was, be it because of unfortunate circumstances or fate itself.

Hes almost irrecognizable,a mischevious,uncaring,blood thirsty entity. A wide disturbing smile with too Many sharp teeth, an echoing disorienting laugh to replaced the bubbly laughter he once had.

Jerico watches horrified, she managed to contain the damage The Spiral could inflict upon her Friends psyche. She gave him advice, she supported him, she went over their best and worst moments together.

When he was around her,he was that good ol' sweet Michael. Once he left though, oh what a stark contrast.

Yet,his Love for her never died,he still clung to that bit of humanity in him. Love, ever persevering and ever present.

This New,irrecognizable form, it wasnt his, its not his. But he wears it with pride,a twisted,Coiling, writhing spiral of hatred for the world as it is and the humans that live within it.

But even after Jerico does find someone else, Gertrudes replacement no less,hes happy for her. There are things he cant give her, of that hes sure.

Yet if his love for her was still there,who said it wasnt mutual?. Whenever the time is right,he'll make his move

In the meantime,he'll watch from the sidelines,cause a bit of trouble, enjoy his time spent with the one person who has never stopped loving him even after everything hes done and maybe,just maybe help out that wet cat of an archivist if the situation calls for it.

Deep within him,within her as well, that loving flame still burns ever brighter.

There were things these entities couldnt take away, a hopeful confort perhaps, that showed theyre not all powerful.

Michael just comforms to sit on that old sofa and drink a cup of tea as he laughs his ribs off with his best friend for eternity. That,was perhaps, enough for him.

Yes. Yes It was enough

[yarmiko-art]

Yara! Glad to see you've had a bit of a break from uni, it seems.

Would you care to share some HCs, since yours are so good? About anything, really, but I've got a bit of a preference for MetaSusie and Nightmare... So do whichever of those you want!

Aww, ty! Sadly, I'm not off the hook yet - just posting some silly things before disappearing again xd

But thank you!! A lot! I'm really glad my ramblings are to your liking

If we talking abt HC regarding Nightmare it's not that much:

Nightmare used to be a human back in a very old day. He probably remembers Earth before it became a Shiver Star. He remembers only some vague details, to be more precise

The way he became a great Nightmare Wizard™ in the first place is by making a wish upon Nova. Over the course of decades chunks of his memories and personality got erased by an inability of human brain to process the eldrich abilities correctly. The Monkey Paw hit him hard

Doesn't remember his own name in a both metaphorical and very literal way. Not that he misses or needs it, which makes the situation even more ironic

"Careful, Marx, that's might be your future" isn't even a joke at this point, bcuz Evil Clown is on highway there. As both of them were granted unspeakable abilities with a pretty similar wishes - parallels are there. The difference between Nightmare and Marx being the fact that Marx doesn't really wants to be next Evil Wizard™. Not because he regrets his actions, but because he wants to keep enjoying the life he is living - you start to appreciate simple things like tasty meals much more when you are about to loose them. Don't get me wrong tho: Marx is full of ambition like never before.

Despite this seemingly sad past with "forgetting his own name" Nightmare always was a bastard in terms of personality. Living on dying cold rock does that to ya sometimes. Most of those traits are still there, just too exaggerated. The Nightmare Wizard in general is pretty much a caricature of himself 

And yet he is very knowledgeable man

Did I mention that he wanted his own champion, based on Galacta Knight? But there was a pretty grave miscalculation on Nightmare's part (Several, actually, his simple inability to raise said champion with a loyalty due to not taking the emotional attachments into account is one of them) - it's not like he has any access to remnant of a Void. But he had plenty of a Dark Matter around. What I'm saying is that MK by some percentage is a Dark Matter or DM related 

Nightmare and Yin Yarn are actually know each other by some Wizard Network and get into petty arguments over smallest unimportant things

And regarding MetaSusie I have only this HC on the top of my tongue:

MK sometimes struggles with reoccurring nightmares so Susie tends to sing to him while he's asleep. It actually helps for some unknown reason. The Knight had no idea at first, but turns out he didn't hate her voice as much as he though

Susie herself doesn't really enjoys singing anymore - it brings her back at the HWC performance with a dad who doesn't recognise her. And yet singing to a shivering borb eases the pain

[palidan-sheep]

How do you think the companions would react if Sole had to cut off their own limb to get out of a trap or otherwise save their life?

Another interesting one, I like these! Thank you Anon.

Situation/scenario- Sole found themselves in a hard place between a rocky wall and a fallen boulder, their beloved arm caught between the two. Their arm below their elbow was far from saving, bone turned into dust and flesh mashed into a paste-all that jazz!

So after enough chems to kill a deathclaw and a grizzly few hours later, Sole stumbles homes, missing an arm but still alive and conscious.

Cait-

“Shite, you look like you’ve been through the ringer.”

Despite the playful words, Cait is an absolute mess of stress, worry, and panic.

She’ll be running around bossing and barking command at people despite not really knowing how to go about fixing up a wound this massive.

She can’t offer much help asides for tons of booze and moral support.

Cuire-

There’s some correlation here with what Cuire said back at the memory den after she became human and the situation presented-I’m too dumb brain to figure it out tho.

Panic 100%. Flurry of words that make no sense but she knows what she’s doing.

Immediately takes charge upon the situation, no explanation needed.

Despite this, she has a hard time telling the others what to do and considering the situation at hand, everyone a mess. She depends on a louder voice to voice her request and commands.

Danse-

“You’ve got guts, I’ll admit that soldier, but was it really necessary?”

He’s seen some shit in his life so this doesn’t have too much of an effect upon him(unless they are dating in which case, he’s a fucking mess.)

He only retains basic medical skills so he helps with what he knows that he’s capable of but leaves the rest to medics.

He won’t leave Soles side unless asked to via a medic or sole themselves. Fancy lad cakes and moral support.

Deacon-

“Alright, alright, alright, I get it. I won’t complain the next time I get a splinter.”

Humor. Lots of humor.

Asides for splinters and the occasional gun shot, he has no idea how to help other then tons of stimpacks and Med-x.

Laugh away the pain. Laughter is the best medicine after all.

Gage-

“Holy Shit Boss...”

Rather then seeing this a weakness, he sees this as a strength. Sole’s got the gull to do shit like that, the they certainly got the gull to whip Nuka-World into shape.

He’s, shockingly, has some experience in medical care but no one really trust him to help Sole. 

Hes there by Sole’s side but like no one really wants him to be there, they have no idea when he last cleaned himself. 

Hancock-

“I hope the reason why you had to do this was a good reason, like it was bitten off by a deathclaw or something, now take this, it’ll help with the pain until we can find you some help.”

On the outside he’s cool as a cucumber but on the inside, he’s a shit-show and a half. a few nervous leg jitters here and there and lots of chem usage. though he tries to be mindful about how much he uses, never know when sole will find themselves wishing for the sweet release of death.

He’s too chemmed out to even entertain the idea of being a doctor, one fuck up could be the difference between life or death.

Whether Sole asked for it or not, he’ll start to make up sorties about how they lost their arm. No body believes him but its funny at least. 

MacCready-

“Heh, that's uh...that's quite the wound wouldn’t ya say?...we need to find you a doctor, like now.”

Like most others, he’s seen his far share of blood and bone and normal it doesn’t effect him too much but since its Sole, someone he cares about, he’s a nervous reck.

He has no confidence in his medical skills while being nervous, afraid that if he had to stich up the wound, he’d jerk and snag something important like a nerve or some body thing.

Concerned Father watching over their severely ill child. 

Nick-

“Well isn’t this quite a predicament we are in? Guess I’ll start working on your mechanical hand.”

He’s not shocked that your missing an arm, he’s more shocked that you actual had the guts to do it. He’s being serious too, he’s got some connections that could help in making you a function prosthetic.

in terms of medical skills, he has none. On top of being a robot, his hands don't offer very much help, sure he can be super technical like stiches but his metal hand has done more damage then he’d like to admit. 

He’ll inquire about the situation after the dust has settled until then, he just offers some advice for living without a limb. 

Piper-

“B-BLUE!”

She’s. A. Fucking. Mess.

A Incoherent and in shambles mess.

She’s the last person you would want to be around in situation such as Sole’s. Remaining clam is the best way to go about this and Piper is the farthest thing from clam.  

Preston-

“General! you were gone for a day! A single DAY!” 

Everyday, his will to live shrinks. 

 He has no idea what he’s doin when it comes to a wound that big. Yeah sure, just like everyone else, he can patch up a bullet hole or stich up a slash if needs be but he has no idea where to start when it comes to a missing limb.

He’s good company, offers great moral support and lots of “eat the pain away.”

X6

“You’ve got guts ma’am/sir, it will only help to prove that you’re willing to do anything to help further improve the Institute.”

Sole, whether or not it was their intentions, has more of X6′s respect and admiration for this feat.

He’s pretty skilled with medical care and definitely prefers it if he the one who take charge in patching up the wound.

Not very good company. 

[peaky-shelby]

OKAY HI

I still have plenty more commenting to do but just gonna put it out here cause I just need to say it lmao. I adore Taylor so so much. She feels like a very well rounded character with her flaws, strong points, insecurities etc. And its evident as well how both her and Kylian are so similar which is also why they butt heads sooo much. Both have an ego that’s backed up by their skills and both, altho aware of each other’s skills, just cannot full on 100% admit that (and they might not anytime soon even tho Kylian is slowly warming up to her).

But like ugh the circumstances that surround them is the real tragedy of their dynamic. The media, Taylor’s position at psg and being his literal boss, the whole JW blog thing, her own insecurities/fears with football and lord knows how much harsher the media is with women than men esp since Kylian is the Football Prince. There’s just so much at stake for her than him and that just means taylor might not ever be a hundred percent real with him. they can have all the moments they want behind closed doors but unfortunately a very real world is waiting outside for them that will be absolutely unforgiving (mostly for her).

Taylor already had to give up football due to something out of her control once before and sucks to see that this ‘relationship’ with kyks could cause her the same pain and I just don’t know how she will ever recover from that. It could cause a loooot of blaming Kylian (even tho he’s not really at fault) which in turn leads to him being a symbol of everything she lost (and everything she could achieve). Someone with a temperament like Taylor’s, that would be a very hard pill to swallow fam.

AND regarding that recent poll, (I know u didn’t ask for opinions!!) but fr I just do not see them having a happy ending. AT LEAST NOT RIGHT NOW. Maybe some years down the road where they don’t have such a huge impact on each other’s career and don’t have such heavy ties with each other. then they can also discover if they like each other because of who they are OR was it just a very intoxicating dynamic that rived up each other’s motors (lmao sorry I didn’t know how else to word it).

ANYWAYS SORRY FOR THE LONG RANT I HOPE SOME OF IT MADE SENSE. Reading New Romantics makes me feel like im back in literature class, analyzing every single word and I love it <3. Cannot wait for the next update and uhh yeah ily. Tag me pls <3

Me everytime someone takes the time to write a long review and theory:

EXCUSE ME MATE,,, YOUVE MADE MY HEART GOO BOOM BOOM AGAIN I LOVE YOU SM😭

I'm in awe of the way you understand the characters and pick on the details. It makes me feel like I'm doing something right and like i have to up my game at the same time. The things you noted are true, it's not about confirming or denying that the situation is very fragile, especially for Taylor.

Please keep ranting away because honestly this sort of messages melt my heart and get my brain going and also make me wanna do better for every single one of you that has wasted even a minute on my work.

Now about the ending obviously I'm not saying anything but anyone is allowed to send opinions and i love seeing them. If anything they are incredibly helpful.

Ones again, i appreciate you with all my heart. Your work is one of the first i read on this fandom so this means a thousand times more to me. Thank you for everything!!

Love you xx

[idyllic-affections]

HI just popping in bc of that recent post

i think it'd be really cool to see reader putting him into place but just add so much fucking angst in that too KHFKDJD, again, 2 traumatized people who meet in unfortunate times and instead of helping each other even tho both parties are aware of how fucked the other is they just... Somewhat destroy each other more?

because, as you've said, reader is so used with worse, but that doesn't mean it doesn't annoy them right? maybe reader snapped at scara because they were at the limit of their patience? I'm sure they'd feel empathy towards him, after all, poor guy is going through all of this and he's just part of dottore's bigger scheme, but the moment scara acts out, hurts them, they saw red and it just happened..

they didn't intend to do it, neither did scaramouche. they both did something that just, triggered their body's instinct because they both went through hell... I like the idea reader would be looking at their hands when scara visibly winces in pain or even sheds some tears but they clench their jaw and proceed with what they're doing. They've done worse, and they'll continue doing it because it's their just.

For scara and reader, it's just another normal day in the lab.

Sorry I just had a brain rot for that I'm so in love exploring unwell characters

HI MOOT HELLO you're so right btw i also love exploring unwell characters... the basis of every long fic i write is literally exploring Mental Illness HELSPDJSKG

scara and [name] could be so good for one another. they could be so helpful. ideally, they'd be something of a catalyst for recovery to one another... but neither of them are at that stage yet. neither of them are ready for recovery, because as you've said, this is normal for them, so they just make one another worse. constantly.

(i think dottore does this on purpose btw. it's something of a social experiment. he could do the maintenance, but... why would he, when there is the potential for a very fascinating encounter?)

[name] is very kind. it's an important theme in this fic. they're extremely empathetic, often regarded as some kind of saint among sinners by the unfortunate victims of dottore's endless curiosity. even though they have done very very awful things to keep themselves alive (which will also be explored in the fic teehee), they're regarded as just... very kind. very gentle. everything they do is always gentle.

and the day in particular in which [name] has to attend to scara's needs, they also happened to meet collei for the first time. the scared, crying, eleazar-ridden child that collei was.

they also, prior to that, were involved in a... very bloody experiment earlier in the day.

so, yeah. they've just about had it by the time they have to see scara.

they're so used to being passive all the time. they have to be. they're relatively strong, but... they can't defend themselves against any of the harbingers (or maybe they can, and they've just fallen victim to learned helplessness. who knows? 🫶), but being injured just triggers such a strong sense of fight or flight within them, because they're used to it being the segments that act out against them. they aren't used to scara acting out. they aren't used to sandrone's robots acting out (which they also help out with, just much more rarely).

put in that situation, they just can't help it when they tell him to stop acting like a fucking brat. they can't help it when they--very cruelly and insensitively--tell him that if he wants to be dottore's science project again, that's fine by them! why should they care what happens to him?!

...

the rest of his maintenance is carried out in heavy silence, of course. at least he stopped acting out. whoops. they could have been nicer, but they were just spread so thinly that day in particular.

they don't say anything when he whimpers after they prod a tender spot a little too hard.

he's used to it. he's used to it. he's used to it.

they just dissociate to get it over with faster. they don't like to think about being responsible for his tears. they don't like to think about how they're surely no better than their boss.

they don't really like thinking about those things in these situations, so they dissociate to fix it.