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thestarfishinjootsoffice · 1 year

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May I ask you to do slashers ( Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Sinclair brothers.) With s/o that has a little black kitten that is really sweet and cuddly ❤️. I'm sorry for bad English it's not my first language 😅

It's been 7 weeks 15+ months and three days

I'm sorry anon but this just turned out with the slashers with a black kitten, i didn't include much reader I'm so sorry 😭

S/O has black cuddly kitten!

Featuring: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt and sinclair brothers!

Michael Myers 🔪

Michael Obviously wasn't a big fan of it at first. He doesn't mind the cat itself. No he thought it was cute, the black fur made it look mysterious and cool but it was really affectionate, and he was lowkey worried he will accidentally step on it and kill it by accident and you'll get sad Or angry or whatever those human emotions you'll go through.

He couldn't do anything to it either, he tried to avoid it as much as he could but he could only do so much against a furry creature with a keen sense of smell. And then he had no choice but to accept that a small kitten was playing around his lap and pockets. He immediately grabbed it by its entire body and placed it firmly on the spot next to him when he heard you coming.

Did that stop the kitten? No, it immediately went back to trying to play on his lap.

He sometimes stares at both you and the tiny cat play together. Lifting it up by its armpits and holding the animal close to your face as it licks your nose and you laugh sweetly. Michael decided to have a staring contest with the cat and glare at it later that night,And he lost when your baby started licking his face too.

Now he doesn't have the energy to gaf when your furry child latches itself to michel and sniff and mess with his clothes affectionately. Ig it was a nice backup company when you were gone.

Jason Voorhees 🪓

He doesn't even know how such a small cute animal like that can survive in a place where he lives.

Honestly he was scared of it at first. Similar to Michael he was scared he was gonna accidentally hurt it. And he may or may not have heard of those superstitions of black cats bringing bad luck, he tried his best to avoid it but the sheer power of a kitten's love and beauty is far too much for even a 6'5 huge bulky killing machine to resist.

It started when you went out one day for necessities Jason gets kinda sad and depressed but then your little cutie came and rubbed it's face into Jason's pants, looking for his attention and then bam. You come home to find the both of them running around the campus. (Ur kitten was jumping around and you almost died.)

The cat will soon take after the characteristics of his 'father'. Both are intently looking at you while following you wherever you go and you don't really know what to do. (Insert Jason and a black kitty with it's tail moving slowly from side to side while both are staring at you.)

He definitely likes playing with the musty overcooked puss but gets embarrassed when you find them and if you start teasing him. It's not like you're insulting him but he doesn't want you to view him as someone who is overly soft and maybe "unmanly".

He gets jealous (jealous?) When he sees the both of you together... Without him!? He's stomping towards you guys and then stares at both of you.

Will literally get so angry or panic or maybe both if a victim had discovered either of you. Makes it his goal to turn that person into nothing but chunky messy pieces of bloody meat if it even dares tries contact with you two.

There will be no harm guaranteed with Jason by you and your kitty's side.

Thomas hewitt ⛓️

Fell in love with your baby kitten at first sight, Literally!

He's a busy man but loves spending free time with you and your four legged sweetie even if he's tired. He melts into a blob of hot glue when he's chopping up victims and it climbs from his back to his shoulders and just rests and Or spends the entire time with him.

We all know Thomas is warm, so that hairy coal dusted meow meow will soon eventually fall asleep on Thomas, and it's the most heartwarming and cutest thing when you see the love of your life with your smol ass child on the palm of his hands like a little sushi roll and sleeping peacefully.

You will also commonly find Thomas and the cat together in bed during nighttime, they are best friends now.

He just looks at the cat while it's nuzzling up to him and wonders 'how can such a small thing live?'

We all know hoyt is a bastard and WILL try to mess with your dark choco pussycat but Thomas and Luda mae are in the dark corner with white glowing pupils. (Plus you running towards him straight with a pan.) Your kitty doesn't see anything wrong though, such a sweet one.

He loves how cuddly your cat is, it's the perfect solution when the family starts getting stressed. One little paw on any limb and it'll instantly lighten the mood.

He wishes he can spend more time with you and your newly adopted child but business is business but the time will come where you can all act like one small but big family<3.

Sinclair brothers 🕯

Bo despised it at first. Like really. He already has one mutt to take care of (not rlly) and now there's a fucking cat in the house? He wanted to avoid it as much as possible but the fact it just followed him no matter where he went both annoyed him and flattered him. He decides to sit down and the coca cola flavoured kitten child decides to sit with him too? And have the audacity to lick his clothes??? Well it's not that bad... Still, he picked it up and dropped it where you were and the vantablack, wormhole, monstrous shadow king of the land of darkness turns around and meows at him. Bo quickly left after that. He's a prick sometimes and messes with the kitty like holding it by it's collar but all it does is meow, lick, purr and hug his arm or bury its face into Bo's clothes and what can he even do anyways. After a while he started to not mind, actually loves it. But he will deny to no end if you ask him if he does though. But you saw how he and the cat fell asleep on top of each other one night. And that's more than enough for an answer.

Vincent thinks it's adorable, he's wondered how having a cat would be like for quite a while and safe to say he's not disappointed. It's nice to have a warm fuzzy little thing playing around him when he's painting, it would've been perfect if you were there and leaned against him. He's honestly pretty surprised the poosay actually wants to hang out around him, the place he's in is really warm 24/7 and he doesn't expect an animal to like it. The power of love is indeed strong. Coming to your boyfriend's room and finding him in his bed with your kitten just chilling around is probably hot and cute. Absolutely handles your fluffy ball of black fur child with a loving and gentle care and you often see vincent trying to make Jonesy and the cat get familiar with each other. I can see him getting along pretty well with animals? It's a lottery since your cat likes to get touchy. Likes painting the black fusty and damp blop of flesh, just waving the paintbrush around while your baby tries ro catch it is just *sobs*. black kitties are aesthetic and he knows it. Bro 100% falls in love again when he sees you with the burnt living food, it's in his mind rent free forever now.

Lester loves it, he already has a dog he takes care of and now there's a cat!? Sign him up! It takes a little while getting used to for Lester, having a cat is nothing like having a dog. He's used to the sheer power of a toddler sized pitbull lunging towards him (playfully) but now he has a tea cup sized baby cat that you can crush with 5% of power climbing up his pants? Damn this was better than he expected. He always heard some people say cats are the equivalent of evil and he was prepared for its attacks but now those people are mute to him. He didn't bring the fetus that close to Jonesy because what if she eats it (jonesy wouldn't do that). Honestly lester is just having the time of his life with two dawgs and you find them on all ground after maybe 1 hour sleeping peacefully and you joined them too cause you ain't missing out on something like that. Sometimes he forgets that it's weaker and more fragile than jonesy and uses more strength than needed when playing with the kit, your little baby just thinks it's extra strong love though<3.

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unabashedcandymaker · 7 months

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Uncertain 02

Summary: Pregnancy progresses, and while your relationship stays strong in the beginning, the dynamics start as the pregnancy progresses.

Warnings: self-doubt, depression, anxiety, general not great feelings

Words: 5.6 k

Natasha x Reader x Bucky

Uncertain 01 / Uncertain Masterlist

Less than a week later, you’re in the med bay, flanked by both Natasha and Bucky, lying on your back, knees spread, waiting for the doctor to finish with the ultrasound.

Seeing as how you were the first person to be carrying the progeny of a super soldier, the very best OBGYN in the world had been brought in just for you. A whole new wing has been added to the med bay now too. The idea had been to keep everything ‘in house’ until they had an idea of what to expect with this pregnancy.

Not that it mattered to you one way or the other. Natasha was grateful for the preparations and that there would always be someone close by if anything happens. Bucky, on the other hand, grumbled about letting the government have their hand in your very personal, very private ordeal. But, he didn’t really mind as long as you were ok with it.

You were an anxious mess regardless, trying your best to focus on the grainy image on the big screen tv that was attached to the ultrasound machine. Nat squeezes your hand, and you look up to her to see her giving you a reassuring smile. She was excited. You and Bucky were more reserved, but it did nothing to dampen her spirits. Her brilliant green eyes were shining as they moved between your face and the screen.

It was easy for you to get caught up in the moment with her. You didn’t have to force the smile on your face when you looked back too. You reach your other hand over your head in the general direction where Bucky was brooding, and was greeted with his warm hand engulfing yours, fingers interlocking, his thumb stroking your wrist.

“And here’s your baby. Let me take some measurements and we can get a more approximate idea of how far along you are,” the doctor says as she points to the peanut-shaped blob right in the middle of the screen. “Looks like you’re a little further along than we expected. I’m getting about 9 weeks. Which means that maybe, let me just see here, maybe we can…oh yeah, here we go…”

And breath is sucked out of your body when a rushed whooshing noise fills the room. You know what it is even before the doctor tells you.

“...there’s the baby’s heartbeat.”

Natasha is squeezing your hand harder, holding it to her chest, and you can feel Bucky shift behind you, releasing your hand so he can lean down to kiss your forehead. His fingers stroke your hair, never breaking contact as he looks up at the screen again.

The doctor is printing out a long line of pictures, makes a couple notes in your chart, and then is cleaning you up.

“Everything looks great. Mama and baby both look healthy and everything appears to be as expected at this stage. I don’t see anything abnormal or that would be a cause for concern. Your hormone levels look normal. I know it’s too early to say, but I don’t see anything here or in the bloodwork that would indicate this would be unlike any other normal and healthy pregnancy.

“But with that being said, I’d like to see you again in two weeks. I'd also like to repeat the bloodwork then too. Just to be on the safe side. Please don’t hesitate to call me if you have any questions or concerns. This is my personal cell phone and home number,” she says as she hands you a card that Bucky promptly takes and puts in his back pocket with a nod. “I’m on call 24/7. You are my only patient until we deliver this baby. So believe me when I tell you I am being very sincere. Please. Call me with anything. It has been a pleasure to meet all of you. I’ll give you the room and you can let yourselves out whenever you’re ready.”

And for the next few months, everything has been great. Natasha has been over the moon. Even her normally stoic demeanor when working with the team has been a little softer, a little less scary.

Sam and Steve have been the only ones brave enough to tease her, and she only replies with a smile in kind. ‘How could I not be so happy. Look how perfect my life is.’

But when she’s in the privacy of your home, she’s a wildfire. She consumes you, every bit of you, every chance she gets. Always touching you, always seeking you out, craving your closeness.

She’s also obsessed with making sure you are eating enough and eating well, but also indulging every single craving. Bucky has fussed at her more than once for it, but it hasn’t stopped her yet. You want ice cream at 3 am, you best damn well believe that she’s already on her way to get you your ice cream. She helps you remember your vitamins and to drink plenty of water, quick to chime in with the, ‘no, my love, that has too much caffeine. Maybe I could make you this tea instead.’

She dotes on you constantly. Everyday that she’s home, she’s making your breakfast, bringing you lunch to your desk at work, sneaking in extra snacks in case you get hungry later. That part wasn’t unusual to happen before the pregnancy, but now she’s made it part of her daily routine. She’s made it her mission to spend as much time as physically possible by your side.

And you won't deny, you absolutely love it.

And Bucky. Your poor, sweet, hopelessly overwhelmed Bucky. He hasn’t figured out what to do with himself. Right after the first doctor’s appointment, he bought a dozen different pregnancy and baby books, and threw himself full force into reading them all as quickly as possible. Every morning he greets you with a sweet kiss and a new fact he’s learned concerning the development of your baby.

“Did you know the baby can open and close her hands?”

“The baby can sense light and soon, it’ll even be able to taste...how wild is that?!?”

He spends a majority of his time brooding just like before, but the further you progress with this pregnancy, the more relaxed and comfortable he becomes, and dare you say, he may even be getting excited. Which is refreshing as you are officially starting to experience symptoms of your pregnancy other than morning sickness.

But when you’re in public, his attitude is wildly unpredictable. Sometimes, he’s constantly following you around, hovering over your shoulder, throwing threatening glares at anyone who might try to come too close. Other times he’s so soft and gentle, like you’re made of glass and may break if you overexert yourself. He’s always got you in his line of sight whenever physically possible. If he’s in the building, you may not be able to see him, but you better not doubt that he can see you.

You love the predatory behavior just a little less, but you appreciate it all the same. It’s his way of showing you he cares.

In the bedroom is where you’ve noticed the biggest change.

Bucky barely touches you. It’s almost like he’s afraid to. He’s too soft, too hesitant. And it doesn’t matter what the pregnancy books say, or how many times you try to assure him that everything is fine, that he shouldn’t handle you any differently, he only ever gives you a small smile, kisses you on the forehead. Sometimes he will pull you into a hug, and although he never says anything, you can tell he is silently dismissing the conversation. You never want to push him or make him uncomfortable, so you always let it go, chalking it up as an unpleasant side effect.

The biggest change in the relationship comes after you first start showing. It happens around the 5 month mark, just a couple days before your next ultrasound appointment.

It’s Sunday morning and you’re all three lounging on the couch, your head in Bucky’s lap, your body lying on the length of the couch, while Natasha is laid between your legs, her cheek resting on your belly, her hand rubbing lazily along the slight swell. Everyone’s quiet and you’re even on the verge of a nap when suddenly, Nat is jumping from her spot up to her knees, hands held up in front of her, a wild look on her face. She’s starting at your belly for a long couple seconds before her eyes dart up to yours.

“What...I...did she just...I think I felt her move…” Natasha whispers as she stares down at your belly again.

You giggle and relax back into Bucky’s lap, reaching both your hands out for hers. She’s slow to comply, but eventually does. You take her wrists and push her hands under your shirt, her palms flat on your stomach. Your hands cover hers and you’re moving them around, trying to find the spot where you feel the baby kick the most.

You settle and hold her hands still, just watching her face as she’s staring at your intertwined hands. Then, her eyes light up again when she feels the baby move again.

“You feel that?” She asks in wonder.

“All the time,” you smile, relishing in her excitement as she lowers her body back into the couch, her hands still planted firmly on the spot you put them. Her face is inches from your belly and she’s whispering something you can’t hear, but she’s delighted when she can feel the baby bump against her hands again.

“You wanna feel?” You ask, looking up to Bucky who looks like he’s frowning from this angle.

“Maybe later. Don’t wanna impose on her moment,” he says with the smallest smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, as he jerks his head to Natasha who is clearly having the time of her life as the baby keeps pushing up against her hand over and over again.

Something about his reaction feels off and it’s almost unnerving, but you push it to the back of your mind as Nat starts with rapid fire questions.

‘What does it feel like?’

Like I have gas.

‘How long have you been able to feel it?”

I don’t know, a couple weeks maybe?

‘Why didn’t you say something sooner?’

Lord, Tash, I don’t know, cause of this?

‘When is she most active?’

When I’m trying to sleep mostly.

There’s a dozen more questions, and you answer each with what’s left of your patience as you try to close your eyes. All the while, Bucky sits above you, still as a statue, his blank expression giving nothing away as you relax into his lap again.

At your 20 week appointment, during the anatomy scan, all three of you are surprised to find out that the baby is a boy!

All this time, you and Natasha were so sure it was a girl. It felt like a girl. The image in your head was a girl. But you’re not disappointed in the least, as the image starts shifting to a little mini version of Bucky, with deep, blue eyes and shaggy dark hair.

The image on the screen in front of you is a strong, healthy, active, and quite large baby boy. Absolutely perfect and healthy in every single way.

“You’re measuring a few weeks ahead of gestation age, but that’s nothing to worry about just yet. Maybe start taking it a little easier at work. Might be a good time to start to lighten the load at work. Maybe also not physically exerting yourself too much. As I’ve said, nothing to worry about, you’ll be able to feel it when it’s uncomfortable. Just don’t push it,” the doctor assured.

So with a clean bill of health, you leave the office. Bucky beaming like the proud papa he is, staring down at the new ultrasound image, but isn’t offering you much else besides a bashful smile and a sweet kiss to your temple.

Natasha wants to celebrate. She’s insisting on throwing a party, and wants to invite everyone in the compound so she can express her excitement with everyone that means anything to her.

You’re not sure how you manage, but you and Bucky talk her into a quiet dinner at home instead. She’s not especially thrilled about it, but she relents when you promise she can be in charge of decorating the nursery anyway she likes; total artistic freedom.

And everything still continues to be fine.

Your belly has started to become more noticeable every passing day. You’ve long since stopped being able to fit into your regular clothes, finally surrendering yourself to pick up a few new outfits from the maternity store. Natasha is unbelievably excited to help, throwing shirts and pants and dresses and skirts over the door of the changing room.

It’s not long after that she sneaks into your dressing room and makes you come twice as she presses you against the wall.

And she continues to be as affectionate as she’s always been, if not even more so.

But Bucky has just about pulled away from you completely…at least he has physically. It happened so slowly that you weren’t really sure it was happening at all until he stopped joining you and Nat in your bedtime activities almost every night. There’s always an excuse why he can’t come to bed just yet with you, opting to wait until you’re already fast asleep before crawling under the blankets and pressing himself into your back.

You know he still loves you, he shows you that everyday. He still kisses you good morning and goodnight. He occasionally drops by to intimidate all of your coworkers. He still laughs at all your stupid jokes and does all those little things he’s always done to show you he still cares.

But he won’t touch you anymore, not like he used to. He’s careful not to touch your belly and it’s been too long since you’ve been intimate with him.

And every single day, you try to tell yourself that it’s not you, that everything’s fine, everything’s normal. This is all in your head.

But also with every day that passes, it’s getting harder.

All those insecurities you’d felt before you’d met Nat and Bucky, and even at the beginning of your relationship, and all your self-doubt starts to creep back in, whispering to you every single reason Bucky doesn’t want you anymore.

Every time he pulls away before you can deepen a kiss, the voices start to get a little bit louder. Every time you see his hands lingering on Natasha’s waist instead of yours, you sink a little further down. And on the several occasions you’ve walked in unexpectedly to see his dick sink deep, deep inside of her instead of you, you’re already so far gone that you can’t see the light anymore.

Why won’t he touch you like that anymore?

Why doesn’t he hold you the way he holds her?

Does he not find you attractive anymore?

How could he, have you seen yourself in the mirror lately?

Everyday it becomes more harrowing a task to push the repulsive thoughts away.

Now, you agree with them. How could you not? They’re true. You have gained a lot of weight.

Sure, the doctor says you're well within the healthy range, and it’s what is supposed to happen! This is healthy for the baby, right?

But you are unable to ignore them when you’re standing in front of the mirror, in the privacy of the guest bathroom, all by yourself.

Suddenly, the light seems harsh and you can’t help but see everything that’s changed in the last few months.

You aren’t sure how you let it get this far, but you’ve become so self-loathing that you can only see every extra pound you’ve gained and every horrifying, ugly stretch mark.

Your hips have widened. Your butt is bigger. Your boobs have started to swell and droop just slightly. Is one boob bigger than the other now?!? Even your face seems to be a bit chubbier. At 6 and a half months, these things were to be expected, sure, but you can’t stand it.

Now that you see all the ways your body has changed, seeing what you believe he is seeing, you completely understand why Bucky doesn’t want to be intimate with you anymore.

So, it starts to feel almost natural that you should start shying away when Natasha tries to initiate intimacy. At first, she’s worried because you’ve never denied her before, you’ve never wanted to before, but she eventually brushes it off as a side effect of this later stage of your pregnancy.

Your wardrobe starts changing along with your mood. All the cute maternity clothes you’d bought with Natasha six weeks ago have all been exchanged for overly large, shapeless sweaters and tee shirts; anything you can find that hides your baby belly.

The time you used to spend cuddling on the couch, you now opt for the plush armchair across the room. Bucky furrows his brow, but doesn’t say anything. Natasha will try to persuade you to join them, making plenty of room for you to snuggle in between them, but that usually ends with you excusing yourself to the bedroom for the rest of the night.

Then, you started changing in the bathroom where neither could see you. You started locking the door whenever you would shower, not wanting to risk them accidentally walking in and seeing you.

They’ll be repulsed.

And it’s not long after that that you start sleeping on the couch. Or in the guest bedroom that Natasha was slowly transitioning into the nursery.

Both protest the first time it happened, but when you claim you’re too uncomfortable and need a little extra space, they let you do whatever you say you need to do. They both give you very disapproving glares when you snatch up your pillow and make your way out of your bedroom, but they never try to stop you.

Natasha is trying to spend all her free time with you, but you were soon finding excuses as to why you can’t anymore. You’d start staying later at your desk, claiming you had too much to do to prepare for your maternity leave, even though that would still be almost two months away.

But no matter how many times you tried to convince them otherwise, they both still insisted on going to all your doctor appointments with you. They were both still so incredibly into this baby.

The appointments were becoming more frequent since you entered your third trimester. Instead of twice a month, you are being seen every week. And used to, the three of you would walk to the appointments together, but now, you worked right up until the last minute, meeting them in the doctor's office not a minute sooner than you had to.

They both stand when you enter the room, each pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, or your cheek, but you’d shrug away as you’d take your place on the exam table. Natasha, as always, looked like a kid on Christmas whenever she would hear the baby’s heartbeat. Bucky is always right there, his hand on your shoulder, smiling like a proud papa.

For these brief moments, your life would feel normal again, that everything was as it should be, especially when they’d look at you the way they are right now. But, as soon as the doctor walks out, the spell is broken.

You’re coming up on the 34th week of your pregnancy, and you absolutely can not take any of this anymore. Your hormones are wreaking havoc on your mentality. Everything makes you cry; songs on the radio, tv shows, the fucking commercials about the dogs…EVERYTHING.

And that’s not counting the physical changes. Your body has stretched to unbelievable proportions, and you feel like you’re looking into a funhouse mirror every time you accidentally catch a glimpse of your own reflection. Everything hurts no matter your position. You’re never comfortable. The baby has gotten so big now and he thinks your bladder is his own personal trampoline, causing you to run to the bathroom every 30 minutes.

And above all else, the icing on the cake to make everything so much worse, you miss Bucky and Natasha.

You HATE yourself for how much you miss them.

You miss the way Bucky’s eyes would crinkle when he smiles at you first thing in the morning. You miss the way Natasha’s hands always felt so soft as she would cup your face when she’d kiss you. You missed their heat as you snuggled between the two of them every night. You missed the way the three of you used to fit so perfectly together.

You used to think that it was going to be the three of you, forever. You used to think that there would be nothing that could have separated you from each other.

Oh, how wrong you were. Turns out that this tiny baby, weighing no more than 6 pounds at this very moment, was just big enough to set your world on fire, destroying everything you ever loved.

A tiny nudge from the inside pulled you back. And crushing guilt was added to your already depressing episode. Of course the baby was not to blame for your crumbling relationship. You had nobody to blame for that but yourself. Because you weren’t enough anymore. You were never going to be enough ever again.

Unsure of how you managed to get here, you find yourself curled up as much as your belly will allow you to in the middle of the bed, clutching Natasha’s pillow to your chest as half your face is buried in Bucky’s. You don’t hear the front door open, so you don’t bother trying to hide the fact that you are full on sobbing as you were supposed to be home alone for the rest of the day; Natasha and Bucky both supposed to be at some training exercise off site.

And you can see them almost as perfectly as if they are standing in front of you now. Natasha, clad in compression capris and a sports bra, so firm and voluptuous, no doubt commanding everyone’s attention with her graceful movements and perfect form.

And then Bucky, so tall and broad and handsome as he broods, but executing each drill with commanding force and precision. What a beautiful pair the two of them make.

Maybe Nat is sending Buck a flirtatious wink from across the training area. Maybe he’s giving her that playful smirk. Maybe there’s some teasing touches, some witty banter. Maybe their hands linger on the other for a second or two longer than is necessarily polite.

And you sob harder.

Of course this was why Bucky wouldn’t want to touch you anymore. That’s what started all of this in the first place. Your body was changing and he didn’t find you attractive anymore. And who the hell would be compared to what a knock-out Natasha is at any given moment.

And you know from experience exactly how beautiful she is. When you have someone like her, someone with such ethereal beauty that transcends all of space and time, how could anyone ever look at someone like you the same way? You only wonder how Bucky had ever found you attractive in the first place.

God, they are going to be so much happier once they cut you loose and get you out of their way.

You imagine their life may go back to the way it was when they were together before, all those years ago, before you came along.

It takes a moment to register that someone’s in bed with you, curling themselves around your body under the cocoon you’ve made with the duvet. Your instinct is to pull away, but strong, slender arms only hold you tighter as you’re pulled closer.

“Please,” Natasha’s voice is in your ear, broken and small. “Please, don’t push me away anymore. It’s killing me.”

You can feel a shuddering breath as she inhales and it’s more painful than you'd ever imagined, to know that she’s hurting too. That you’ve been the one hurting her.

“Talk to me, милая девушка (sweet girl). I can’t…'' Her voice definitely breaks this time and you can feel her sobs more than hear it. “I can’t be without you any longer. Tell me what I’ve done to hurt you.”

Oh no. Does she think she’s done something wrong? How do you begin to tell her how perfect she is? How could she ever think she had hurt you?

It’s you. You’re the problem. She has to know that.

You have to tell her the truth. It’s the only way she will finally understand what you already know.

You tell her everything, even though it hurts, but it would continue to hurt so much more if you didn’t.

She holds you close as the words mixed with broken sobs pour from your mouth. Every insecurity that has grown into a festering wound inside of you; every dark and sinister thought that whispers its vicious poison when you’re alone, filling your mind with darkness and pain; every self-deprecating realization that your only loves deserve far better than you.

You lay it all bare and then you wait. You wait for her to tell you it’s all true and while they might still love you, you’ll never fit into their perfect little family anymore.

When she lets you go, you know this is the beginning of the end. You know she’s pulling away. She’s going to walk away from you, this time forever…

But no, while she does release you, it’s only to crawl over your body so she can lay face-to-face with you. Her green eyes are red-rimmed as her own tears fall freely.

“I need you to understand something. I am always going to love you. I am always going to want you, whether you weigh 100 pounds or 300 pounds or even 500 pounds. It doesn’t matter to me if you wake up tomorrow morning, having developed elephantitis and are permanently deformed for the rest of your life.

“It doesn’t matter to me what you look like, because that’s not the part of you that I fell in love with. I fell in love with who you are on the inside, and on the inside, you are always going to be the most beautiful person I’ll ever know.

“You, my sweet, sweet girl, have always been, and always will be my greatest love,” she whispers as she cups your jaw and swipes at the steady stream of tears running down your cheek. Her hands are soft and her movements are so gentle and you’d forgotten how wonderful it was to be touched by her.

“B-but Bucky…” you argue, but she cuts you off with a finger pressed to your lips.

“I love him too, always, with everything in me, but it doesn’t make anything I’ve just said any less true. I’ll never have anyone else like you. There’s nobody that makes me feel the way my sweet girl does.”

She pulls you in close, carefully positioning herself against you so she’s cradling your large belly in her lap, your head under her chin. You still cry as her hand rests gently on your belly, rubbing soothingly across the taut, stretched skin.

“I thought it was me,” she admits after you’ve finally started to calm down. “I thought...I thought you were going to leave. When you started pulling away from me, I thought I was going to lose you because I wasn’t enough anymore.

“And then, if you left, it would only have been a matter of time before Bucky would leave, too. He’d follow you anywhere. You’re the mother of his child, how could he not? And what am I compared to you? What can I give him? There’s no future with me if you’re not here.”

It was your turn to hold her as she cried. It took some serious wiggling, but you managed to pull her into your chest, cradling her, comforting her. Her tears came hard and fast, staining the front of your shirt.

“You’re my forever, Tasha. I wouldn’t...I couldn’t live without you. And I’m so sorry that I did this to us. I...I...I don’t know how to fix it,” you whispered into her hair, stroking the sweat dampened locks with one hand as the other held her close.

“There’s nothing to fix, sweet girl,” she said with a sniffle, pulling back to look up at you. “I’m yours, мое сердце (my heart). I’ve always been yours.”

“But what about Bucky?” You whisper, willing yourself not to cry again as you think about the other half of your heartache.

“It’s not what you think. I don’t know what’s up, but I know him and it can’t be what you’re thinking. He adores you. I know you can’t see it, but he still looks at you like you hung the moon. You’ll need to sit down with him and talk about it. We have spent too long tiptoeing around each other and look what it’s done to us,” she says as she scoots up so you're lying nose to nose.

“And come back to bed. Please. I can’t stand to spend another night away from you. I don’t know if I can suffer through broody Bucky on my own anymore.”

“He can’t have been that bad,” you say with a small chuckle, curling a strand of red hair behind her ear.

“You have no idea how insufferable he’s been without you,” she assures with a warm smile.

“Speaking of, where is he? No...wait...what are you doing here? Both of you are supposed to be at…”

“At the thing, yeah, no, I couldn’t stand to be there a second longer knowing that you were here all alone.”

“Won’t Steve be upset you left?”

“Nah. But hey, even if he was, what is he gonna do? Kick me off the team?” She says with a scoff and a wink. “Besides, it was mostly for the incoming agents. We were there just as a morale booster.”

“But Bucky stayed?” You ask in a whisper.

“I-“

“No, he didn’t,” comes a deep voice from the doorway. Your head whips around, your body following sluggishly after, to see Bucky standing in the doorway, arms crossed, and brow furrowed.

“How long have you been here?” You asked as you struggled to push yourself up off the bed, to move anywhere else, feeling incredibly vulnerable and exposed in this position.

But Nat’s arms hold you in place, keeping you on your side, as Bucky walked over, kicked off his shoes, and laid down next to you.

“Long enough. Nat beat me here by a few minutes. I would have been here sooner if she would have waited for me to get in the car…” He’s smiling playfully, but his eyes are shining, wide, unblinking, and a little pained. “I waited in the hall, figured I’d give you two a few minutes…”

The silence stretches as you stare at him. There’s so many things you want to say, but you can’t seem to make yourself speak. You need to tell him how you feel. You need to tell him…

“I’m sorry,” he says, cutting you off before you can even get your mouth to open. “I’m sorry I made you feel like this. I’ve done this to you; I’ve done this to all of us, and I’m so, so sorry. But it’s not what you think. Not that there’s an excuse, but I never imagined it would have led to this; that you’d think I wasn’t attracted to you anymore…that I didn’t want you.”

You’re blinking away tears when they start springing back up. His hand reaches out slowly, pausing just inches from your face, giving you the opportunity to pull away. And when you don’t, his hand falls to your hair, pushing the tangled mess back away from your face. The touch is so tender that you can’t fight the tears from falling anymore.

You’ve closed yourself off from them for so long that you’d forgotten how wonderful it felt to be loved by them.

“It was me,” he whispers, closing his eyes. “I’m not...I won’t be...I’d die if I ever hurt you, or him. It’s all I can see every time I close my eyes. It haunts my dreams. And, ok, I’ll admit, I did pull back some, but you just seemed much more delicate than before. There’s a brand new little person growing inside you. And if I hurt you…or him..I couldn’t…”

His voice breaks and he’s blinking away his own tears. You know how he feels. It’s the same self-loathing you’ve been dealing with for the past few months.

What a mess this has turned into. All three of you have been suffering through the same exact thing, feeling inept compared to each other, and instead of anyone talking about how they feel, you’ve been keeping it bottled up until it’s reached this breaking point.

“What a trio we make, huh?” You whisper, reaching out and placing a hand on Bucky’s bicep. You’re giving him a watery smile which he returns as Natasha is hugging you from behind.

“Maybe this would be a good time to suggest we go back to therapy…together…” Natasha piped up as she shifted upwards again, curling around you so she, too, could reach Bucky.

“S’ not a bad idea,” you agree. “It helped before. Could be good to go in for another refresher before the baby gets here.”

Bucky sighs and nods.

“I’ve missed you,” you breathe as you feel the both of them snuggle into you. “I’ve missed you both so much.”

And for the first time in months, with both of your loves snuggled in close, you feel whole and loved and complete.

Chapter 03-Final Chapter

#marvel #captain america #winter soldier #black widow #bucky x reader x nat #bucky x reader x natasha #nat x reader x bucky #natasha x reader x bucky #bucky #bucky barnes #nat #natasha #natasha romanoff #pregnant!reader #uncertain

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artsyannierose · 8 months

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Nene’s Dead Corpse and her ghost bf

randomly made a crap ton more sense to me

why?

fricking school (screw school I hate you (no not rly I’m just stressed))

Anyway I’m a biomed class where unit 1 is studying medical investigations forensic science style

and one of the things is like, what happens to a person after the body has been dead for a while (post mortem or sum, see im learning :D)

Things like algor mortis, livor mortis, I’ve heard of. In fact I’ve even studied the clouding of the corneas before, but it never got to me till today

maybe it’s cause I cannot for the life of me study forensics without my wild imagination giving me nightmares or just panicking when I’m alone but aNyWays

I tend to imagine characters associated with death in these scenarios so I don’t lose it in class💀

*cough* Nene *cough cough*

So as I was taking notes on the slideshow, some of the images of clouded corneas reminded me strangely of something familiar, but at that point I couldn’t tell. There’s something haunting about the eyes (or maybe it’s just my over-analytical brain loving small details like this) they’re GORGEOUS

IDK THEYRE PRETTY

Maybe it’s ‘cause the true color of the iris is completely visible in all its glory, without the pupil obscuring it

(something like this?? A little vivid tho lol)

but like

there’s no

life

no reflection, no emotion…nothing (which is so hauntingly beautiful leave me alone I’m a sucker for this now)

it’s literally just an eye with nothing but color

and then it hit me…it’s exactly the look Nene had when Mirai fast-forwarded her time

you can see in the image it’s just her plain magenta eyes with a fuzzy de-saturated blob in the center…aka clouded corneas

And that honestly made me realize that in this scene she’s not—she’s not even unconscious

No she’s literally, physiologically dead

THAT IS A CORPSE HE IS HOLDING

she is literally a dead body this hits me so hard😭😭

and I can imagine algor mortis kicked in by then, her body was probably cold to the touch

so imagine how he felt, and I’m aware people have analyzed his emotions but just think about it

he’s always seen her so full of life and hope, and now all he has left is an empty shell of her, cold and dead with no life left inside

…just like him

the more I think about it Hanako is just an animated corpse

he has no reflection in his eyes most of the time because he is ✨dead✨

I mean Mei, Mitsuba, and Hanako don’t have a little white reflection dot like Nene and Kou

Or maybe I’m overthinking it and Nene’s eyes are just super reflective

even for someone who presumably took his own life, he probably never saw tsukasa’s body start postmortem and actually feel dead bc it looked extremely bloody ngl (I’m guessing he killed himself right after 💔)

and now he’s holding someone he cares about like this for the first time and I’ll bet that scarred him

and he figured out that never, never ever did he ever want to see his sweet assistant like this again, lifeless in his arms

and so after that, cue Hanako in his villain era who basically became a yandere the entire picture perfect lmao

and he was unbelievably adamant about it too

I mean honestly if I held anybody I knew lifeless like that I’d be scarred for life and crying for days

seeing the light drained from someone’s eyes is so interestingly sad to me

Look at the difference:

Happy

vs Sad/Determined

vs Depressed (ig??)

vs Dead

She still has so much emotion in her eyes

and then d e a d

literally looks like a porcelain doll

wait she looks so pale in the last image compared to the others now that I think about it

I love aidairo’s eye for detail it’s so fun to figure out

Well anyways thanks for coming to my Ted Talk essay atp-

IT’S PAST 1 AM AND I SHOULD BE STUDYING FOR SAID BIOMED CLASS AND HERE I AN GOING ON A TANGENT ABOUT A FICTIONAL CHARACTER’S EYES

send help

anyways excuse me while I grab a box of strawberries to munch on and cry my eyes out all over my homework before I sleep-

#hananene #tbhk #jshk #hanako kun #toilet bound hanako-kun #yashiro nene #tbhk manga spoilers #aidairo #my ramblings #my rambles #i literally have to wake up in 3 hours what am I doing #Yknow screw school Hananene is more important #i love angst #they’re so bittersweet #and beautiful

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zombie-bait · 6 months

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Omg i just realized I have something tiny to add to the whole James Somerton debacle. I'm currently watching the hbombguy vid (as you do when procrastinating assignments) and I remembered something that stood out to me in James' old videos.

So I used to be a fan of his stuff. I am also a fan of Hannibal and IWTV. He made a video covering both so naturally I was very hyped. It was called 'The Gay Appeal of Toxic Love.' The vid itself was fine (I don't remember having any super strong opinions of it besides being excited to hear ppl mention Interview cuz I had recently become obsessed) but one thing did stand out to me. In the IWTV section he mentions Nicki and, naturally, his death:

"After becoming a vampire, Nicky becomes nearly catatonic, and eventually slips away from Lestat entirely. And after centuries of dealing with depression and severe mental illness, Nicky kills himself."

(sourced from this transcript: https://github.com/TerraJRiley/James_Somerton_Transcripts/blob/main/Transcripts/The%20Gay%20Appeal%20of%20Toxic%20Love.txt)

To anyone who's read TVL, I don't think I need to explain that Nicki had not, in fact, been around for centuries. "Nicki had lived to be 30" has been rattling around in my head since I first read it.

And like, obviously I don't expect every youtube essayist to read several long-ish novels to have a full grasp of the series' deep lore, especially when the focus was largely on IWTV and Loustat rather than the entire Vampire Chronicles. Still, it makes you wonder a bit about the quality of the research being done here. You can find the proper info in like, 5 seconds by just going on the fan wiki so I'm not sure what his sources were. And that's the issue at hand, isn't it?

At the time I felt a tiny bit smug recognizing the error but in light of everything that's been revealed, it's kind of telling. I'm not saying this part was plagiarized (I haven't found anything but others on reddit have found issues with different sections of the same video) but rereading the transcript it comes off as someone who clearly doesn't know much about Interview.... It feels like he's reading through a loose summary of plot points rather than analyzing a piece of media that actually means anything to him. It's very much Interview for people who don't know Interview which, one could argue is fair. Especially beyond book one, VC is a niche series and a lot of elements that are important to certain characters or plot lines cannot be summarized quickly for an audience unfamiliar with it. A good writer, who's done a lot of research about the specific topic they have chosen to make a video on, would be able to balance this. There is a LOT to analyze about queerness in VC and its a shame to see one of the more popular queer media channels half-assing it just to churn out videos heavily made up of other people's work. In retrospect he had several videos like that, where he would discuss things like manga/manhua communities while clearly having little knowledge on the nuance of those subjects. He was an outsider who presented himself with a strange amount of authority.

This was content created with the sole intention of propping up queer stories and history, yet it's built off stolen work from queer authors and doesn't actually care that much about exploring the communities it features. Vids like the IWTV one weren't really fact checked because it's only people like me who would might give a shit or even notice anything is off in the first place. There's a bit of a similar vibe in some of his other vids where he undermines the experiences of queer women because he clearly has not taken the time to learn about the nuances of representing queer women in media. These are things that irritated me when I first started to notice them but I put those concerns in the back of my mind because I cared about the topics he was covering and was excited to see these discussions becoming more mainstream.

The revelations of this evening have been disappointing to say the least.

(also for the record I know he made other more recent vids about IWTV but I haven't seen those and even if his account was still up I don't think I would lol

BUT

I did look at the transcript for his 'Vampires and the Gays Who Love Them' video (found from the same link I included above) and this quote about the IWTV AMC show is sending me: "Daniel has never grappled with the complexities of being gay"

Shoutout to straight, uncomplicated icon Daniel Molloy. Devil's Minion was a mass hallucination, spread the word)

#iwtv #interview with the vampire #james somerton #hbomberguy #vampire chronicles #iwtv spoilers #the vampire lestat #youtube #anne rice #queer media

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fishrights69 · 1 year

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My top 5 coolest fish

5. Lionfish🦁

Ah yes, a classic fish found in many books, video games or even in your bathtub if you're tripping hard enough. The only reason I placed this fish here is because the lionfish is very nostalgic to me. Back in the day my mom would sometimes take me to her office where she had one single video game installed: Feeding frenzy. Sadly it was only a demo so if I quit the game, the whole progress would go away :( (which would make me play it for like 5 hours straight as my mom worked). One of the levels had this cool looking mfer and it got printed into my brain from a young age. This Fish gets a 7/10 for looks, 10/10 for reminding me of a simpler time where depression was a foreign concept to me. 4. Galapagos batfish💅🏻

At first you might think ''yo what the fuck is wrong with this thing, is it even fish?'' and yes, it is VERY fish but at the same time it looks kinda fishy. To give you some facts about this little thing, not only does it look like someone put lipstick on it, but it also apparently cannot even swim right. This fish can't even fish and because of that, it is my number 4. 6/10 appearence 9/10 for personal abilities. It reminds me that even if I fuck up at something meant to be ''human'' it s oki , cuz this fish can't even do the one thing it's supposed to do and somehow it's still alive. 3.Flying fish🐦

Now this, this thing is magestic as fuck. Without it's wings it looks like a typical ass fish, but I can still appreciate it for what it tries to be! Imagine how dramatic it can exit boring conversations, or perhaps show up all of a sudden and creep up on you! It makes me summon my inner bad bitch fish self. 8/10 appearence 10/10 I wish I could fly away from my problems as well as this fish can. 2.Pufferfish🌵

This fish is a proper shapeshifter. Imagine being able to adjust your shape on the spot. No stupid diets to make you skinny or fat. Just swallow some water and that's it. On top of that, the spikes are amazing. I wish I had spikes like that in case someone would try to get too close to me on the playground. Their mating ritual is as amazing as it gets but sadly their toxic self cannot be ignored. 8/10 appearence(11/10 if baby), 6/10 too toxic for me tbh but I can still admire from afar 1.Longhorn cowfish🐄

This yellow blob over here is fucking adorable. Not only does it have cow in the name(I love cows too) but he also looks like he is about to give you kisses. Now he is apparently hella lonely which made me feel sorry for him, therefore he is at number 1. because I too was once lonely, smol (still am) and looked like a blob(still do). I fucking hate the colour yellow but this tiny thing makes me like it a little bit more every time I see a pic of him. 10/10 appearence 10/10 resilience, combating loneliness and removing the stigma associated with it. BONUS FISH!!!! Seahorses. Any kind. 🐴

These beautiful things tie super well with my previous fish. You see I really like animals pretending to be other animals and these babies are just that. On top of looking cool as hell, my favorite seahorse fact is that some males can also give birth! Love me some genderbending so keep slaying it babes. ✨ 10/10 looks 10/10 attitude That was it. Follow me if you wanna hear about my top 5 GARBAGE fish that suck.

#my favourite fish #fish #fish that are friends #marine life #things that make me happy #top5 #ocean #aquatic life #fishblr #fish tag #cuties #animals #animal friends

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nevertheless-moving · 3 months

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stormlight au number 27. Elhokar and Kaladin time travel from Oathbringer to Way of Kings.

IMPORTANT: kaladin and elhokar develop weird unhealthy codependent situationship.

(MAJOR Oathbringer spoilers below)

...

Kaladin isn't pulled away by Adolin when he has his meltdown over Elhokar's death, over not being able to Save Everyone, and instead clings to Elhokar's dying body as a symbol of his failures. When Kaladin is killed in the confusion, something - the universe/ sja anat/ tattered pieces of honor and odium / hey maybe even adolnesium themselves who knows is like - errr. What. nope. Not my special boy! Go back, Try Again.

Kaladin wakes up in Way Of Kings, maybe a highstorm or two before the Tower. Kaladin is just like ah i see eternal damnation. Eternal damnation for my failures. Takes a little time before even considering the idea of time travel. Fortunately his attitude and response to thinking he's been consigned to everlasting ironic torment is remarkably similar to his response to the events of the first book, so a few days go by before the bridgecrew notices he's more fucked up than usual.

Elhokar wakes up and (i enjoy the idea of THE COSMERE ITSELF SAVING KALADIN STORMBLESSED! and also Elhokar is there!) has no idea what to do. Testy with both thadeus and dalinar. Figures out some lightweaving. Maybe passes an order that the bridgemen should all have shields, in case Kaladin doesn't remember the future either, as a little goodwill present. After a couple more days he sneaks out to thadeus's bridgemen barracks to ask the hero for help, since none of the other kholins are responding to his leading mention of things he saw in 'dreams'.

Obviously he's not going to show his actual face when the guy who murdered him is in the room.

Dark amorphous blob with glowing blue eyes entering the barracks: Greetings Stormbles - do you all just sleep on the floor? And what is that smell? Heralds, this is depressing. Bridge four: WHAT THE - VOIDBRINGER! VOID- Kaladin : calm down, men, that's not what a voidbringer looks like. I think...its an unmade? Are there unmades in damnation? Only - that voice...do i...know you... Dark amorphous blob with glowing blue eyes: well, looking around, i suppose i can see why you would think this is braize, but come on, we're not actually dead and the almighty sent us ...here... for a reason. I need you to do your hero thing, huphup. Kaladin: ...shallan? Dark amorphous blob with glowing blue eyes: I suppose I am glad for the memory confirmation, but do i look - ugh - okay for hopefully obvious reasons i'm not going to put my true face on, so don't be an idiot and blurt out my real name, but i can probably wear the, ah, outfit she picked for me in Kholinar [Amorphous dark blob turns into pretty light eyed woman]: tada! Bridgefour: uh Teft: storms...you're one of them too...i think... Skar: does anyone else feel like we're in more danger now? Like better we were found with a voidbringer in our quarters than a brightlady? Drehy: no, i agree Hobber: shh! We're finally getting the captain's mysterious backstory ! Bissig: i TOLD you guys he must have got involved with a brightlady Leyten: and i bet on voidbringers which we all agreed was 10 to 1 so i'm pretty sure i'm winning Kaladin: Kaladin: [starting to tear up] Brightlady: uh Kaladin: [grabbing brightlady and audibly sobbing] Brightlady: UH Teft: storms you really broke him Brighlady: what! I have no idea whats happening! He doesn't even like me! You all must have done something to him! Kaladin: i thought...i failed you...that I cohldnt save you...i saw you get stab ed Brightlady: oh...huh. you really take that 'protect everyone' thing seriously. Do you do this every time someone you're guarding gets hurt? Moash: yeah... he's pretty much always like this Bridge four: [general nods of agreement] Brightlady: [awkwardly patting kaladin on the back]: well. The good news is i'm much more stab resilient now! Aha. Still would prefer not to... Kaladin: [weeping] Brightlady: come on bridgeman, there's a desolation coming remember? Saving the world and all that? Rest of bridge four:

Anyway Elhokar somewhat intentionally leads the non Kaladin members of bridge four to believe that the actual Elhokar is dead, and that he (she? No, he, i think. Maybe they? Just - just go by what face i'm wearing!) has taken the king's place through dark magics. He assumes that the bridgemen will like him better if they think he's some sort of unholy kingkilling blood sorcerer, as opposed to the actual elhokar kholin.

Depressingly, he's right.

Unhealthy situationship! They both see each other as a Symbol. Elokhar is the Chance to Save Everyone. Kaladin is the True Hero and Leader. Kaladin starts tutoring elohkar on how to be a good person and leader, blaming his death on not doing so earlier.

Kaladin's ability to do so is somewhat hindered by his deep unwillingness to see elhokar in danger, and his extreme tendency to take control when he sees something wrong. He objectively recognizes that this was also dalinars problem, but still shakes like a chihuahua sometimes to avoid grabbing elhokhar by the scruff of the neck when he does something stupid. Definitely questionable how qualified kaladin is for teaching, but like. There is progress.

Elhokar uses kaladin ruthlessly as a glowing flying tool to instill fear in his highprinces, which makes kaladins skin crawl a little, but it is helping enforce a lot of social changes protecting darkeyes that he never dreamed could happen.

Elhokar at somepoint offers to lightweave kaladin and make him king elokhar instead.

Kaladin doesn't even know where to start unpacking that.

Intriguingly, the whole not seeing the man for the symbol thing, while being Not Great, is also the source of a bit of solid common ground for each other. A few dizzy moments in private where they connect uniquely on what it is to have no friends who are not followers. Of never being allowed to be just a man.

Also some incredibly specific trauma bonding of living through the actual apocalypse. Both have some serious issues regarding dying in the absolute shitshow that was that the unmade palace. Mutual extreme distress when elokhar accidentally lightweaves a flashback. Please imagine a servant walking in on King Elhokar and Lord Stormblessed clinging to one another and shaking on the ceiling while a nightmareish orgy of death takes place beneath them. Paid off extremely well to never discuss what she saw, not that she'd be able to explain it.

Hard to completely cover up because she ran away screaming. Couple people assume the two men were fucking, but honestly most assume by her genuine distress, i mean jokes aside, those are two very good looking men and she was, you know, screaming in terror, so almost definitely not that. Some sort of vision from the almighty? Maybe a voidbringer??

Bridgefour, under the impression that 'elhokars' 'true form' is closer to the shadowy nightmare blob they initially saw (do you know how hard it is to lightweave invisibility? It was a rough draft, alright?), are largely convinced that she walked in on that. And maybe them fucking, uncertain about that part. They are initially supportive of their captain's potential monsterfucking (the man deserves to relax) but grow increasingly concerned about some of the red flags in their relationship.

Anyway, needless to say, dalinar and kaladins dynamic is weird in this one. Still a fair amount of instant mututal respect. But now elhokar is cribbing shamelessly from dalinars hero journey and calling him out on his tendency to seize power, undermining elokhar. So dalinar feels a lot more wobbly about his place.

Apparently not even the visions from god are special, elhokar and his secret radiant (a real radiant!) had been receiving some too? Better, more useful ones even?

And the radiant is taking his place in elhokars trust, and calling him out even MORE for not teaching elhokhar how to be a leader when he was younger, stormfather, did you want him to fail? how did it get this bad? Fortunately, Dalinar is willing to get humble and Grow. Honestly, dalinar and kaladin are probably in a better place. More mutual trust. Less constant exchange of unpayable debts. Kaladins rank is really confusing, but theyre closer to equals than they were in canon.

Teft: lad we need to talk about you and the Uh. Lightweaver. shapeshifter? Kaladin : what? I thought you guys were warming up to eachother Lopen: gancho they're the best unholy creature i've ever met. Proper respect for herdassian women. Skar: lopen does not agree with this intervention but the rest of us are...concerned. Rock: is how he looks at you that we are worried. Like starving man looks at beloved pet axehound. Kaladin: Kaldin: what? Moash: you know i'm fond of the guy, it's like Skar said, we're a little...concerned. That he wants to, you know, kill and eat you so he can take your place. Kaladin: he wouldn't - he definitely wouldn't eat me. Teft: see, the fact that you didn't immediately argue with the 'murder you to take your place' part of that is concerning. Kaladin: he's just going through a lot. Rock: yes, but way you circle one another...again, like axehound and man, only you change places Kaladin: hes my king! and im secretly tutoring him on how to be a leader! of course our dynamic is going to be odd! Teft: look its - he's not a normal person. He doesn't know how to...be a human, i don't think. Kaladin: yeah, sure, I'll give you that. but he's getting better! You saw how he said thank you to sigzil the other day! Moash: kal... Kaladin: i can fix him Moash: kal

Sure hope dalinar never overhears bridgefour and elhokar talking about how glad they are that his nephew is dead and that new elhokar took his place! He definitely wouldn't go into a murderous rage and do something regrettable if he believed that were true!

#Stormlight archive #Oathbringer #Stormlight fanfic #Elhokar kholin #kaladin stormblessed #My au #Stormlight au no 27 #Oathbringer spoilers #cosmere #nevertheless cosmere

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sasster · 3 days

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Rescue

Longest four days ever, am I right? Just a small little thing to move the plot along.

[doc]

— Cylion was already on his way to Persep’s apartment when the sun was still up, the four days having crept along at a snail’s pace. If anyone asked him, he would say it felt more like two weeks elapsed, especially with Somina’s not so subtle unease and the rather sudden appearance of his father in their kitchen. He’d had just about enough of his leadership being questioned.

At least Persep seemed keen on honoring their bargain, and hopefully Nymira will have learned a very important lesson from all of this. He palmed his pocket absently to feel for the doll tucked snuggly into it.

Satisfied that her reward would not be going anywhere, he continued on his trip to liberate his sister.

The prophet arrived at, in his opinion, what must be the most depressing hivestem on Alternia just as the sun finished its journey to embed itself into the horizon. Desperation and sadness seemed to ooze from the building's facade, though it looked no different than the buildings that neighbored it. He couldn’t help but wonder if Persep and his proximity merely made the place feel worse, blanketed by the cold of his existence.

Regardless, the location itself left no mystery as to why Persep chose to decorate his dreams in the tapestry of his past.

The puppet master opened the door to his apartment before he could even knock, lips peeled back in a smile that carried the weight of a sneer.

“Punctual.” He offered, almost sounding disappointed that that was the case.

“Where is my sister?”

“Good evening to you as well.”

Persep paused to look the prophet over, humor having shifted the way the smile sat on his face, quirked his eyebrows, and nearly forced him to squint. “You are dressed rather casually for someone here to put me in my place,” he said, indicating the button up and lack of sunflower charm on his face. “Modesty becomes you, Holy One.”

Cylion sucked his tongue against his teeth, already irritated with the playfulness of his acquaintance. “My sister,” he gritted, “Where is she?”

Persep responded by pressing his tongue against one of the fangs that he always displayed so proudly and looked him over one more time. Then he nodded his head in the direction that Nymira slept.

If she were awake back there, even she might have had a hard time believing the pair weren’t as close as the airs they put on implied.

What a headache that could’ve been turned into.

“Right this way, then.” The purple blood bagan to angle his body away from the door in the same moment that Cylion placed his hands on his shoulders and gave a push to make it seem at least that there’d been some struggle.

“You’ve gone too far, Persep,” he raised his voice so that it would stir the resting goddess across the room from them. He continued to shove past him until he came to where his sister was blinking the sleep from her eyes.

Something about seeing her curled up on that little couch tugged at the edge of his conscience, but he tried to ignore it. Shaking his head and leaning over to lift her from the dreary piece of furniture.

“Cylion?” She mumbled, sleep still crowding her voice. This was followed by her throwing her arms around him. “You came! You found me!” She squeaked out and buried her face into his neck, immediately coating it with thick blobs of tears.

Behind them, Persep scoffed, but the prophet ignored him and let out a sigh as he pulled her in as close as he could, hopeful that this meant she would finally let go of her silly grudge. “I’m sorry it took me so long, let's get you home, okay?”

#persep #cylion #long post #coko writes sometimes

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leonightwater25 · 4 months

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If Im not the top 5 thats fine by me, I can just show off my kid anyway 😅

Either way, if you wanna could you draw my kid Cody here? They're a depressed little dude that became a dark matter blob against their will. They're also a bit of a workaholic as well ~androidcharles

🍾

hope you don't mind i made a version with eyes n mouth

#thsc #my art #thsc doodle #thsc oc #thsc art request #the henry stickmin collection au #the henry stickmin #the henry stickmin collection #thsc au #thscau #leonightwater25 #art #doodle

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amandacanwrite · 6 months

Text

Summoning Serotonin by Amanda Cessor

Content Warnings|| Heavy themes around depression, loneliness, failure. Mentions of suicide. Please let me know if there are any I missed. Summary|| A desperate human summons a demon in the hopes that they can trade their soul away for a neurotypical brain and a break from their depression. A/n|| I very intentionally wrote this story without anything that identifies the narrator's gender. Please imagine who you see fit there, whether that be you or someone else.

Genre: Contemporary, Paranormal

So, I’ve decided to sell my soul to a demon.

I know what you’re thinking, that seems a little extreme, but, hear me out.

I have spent so much time, money and energy trying to fix myself. I’ve tried and tried and tried to rid myself of my myriad of mental illnesses, only to watch my life fall apart around me again and again and again.

At this point, I’m either going to sell my soul or off myself. Either way, I wind up burning in Hell. I might as well make the most of the years I have left on this dumpy planet before I spend eternity swimming in a lake of fire.

So, here I sit — on a Friday — that way I have the weekend to enjoy my newfound neurotypical brain. Who knows, maybe I’ll even take a shower.

Big plans, you know?

Honestly, I’m really surprised by how little is required to summon a lord of night? A little sulfur, some graveyard dirt, a few black candles, and a couple drops of my blood. Considering the state of things, it isn’t hard to part with.

I start by drawing a pentagram in chalk on a clearing I’ve made in the clutter and mess on my coffee table, using my sleeve to buff out a coffee ring on the cheap furniture. I place a black candle on one corner for fire, graveyard dirt on another to symbolize earth, sulfur on another for the element of air, a glass of red wine on yet another corner for water. Finally, at the very top, I prick my finger and smear a fat glob of blood to link the spell to me and to represent the fifth element of the soul.

“Hear me, O, knights of Hell,” I say, my voice warbling with my own embarrassment. “Rise from your fiery pit and heed my call!”

This is all the ritual said to say, but once done, I only catch the faint whiff of the sulfur and watch as black wax trickles down onto my already-ruined coffee table. I run a hand through my oily hair and sigh. I’m stupid to think this would work. I’m stupid for even trying it.

I’m about to head back to bed and sleep the day away when the doorbell rings. I jump at the sound — I have visitors so infrequently that I have long forgotten what it even sounded like.

I stand up and go to the door, peeking through the grimy, smudged peephole. Outside of my door, I see a vaguely person-shaped blob. I figure it’s a neighbor that’s come to complain about the smell of rotten eggs. I unlock the door and open it, finding a smartly dressed man with black hair.

And … horns?

Oh.

“You called a demon?” he asks.

“Uhh …”

“May I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” I scramble as I step out of the way.

He lets himself in and strides to my sofa where he sits and wrinkles his nose at the lingering odor of the sulfur I had used to call him. Then again, I haven’t been able to clean the apartment in the last two months. So, maybe he’s reacting to that.

I shift between my feet awkwardly, and he pats the seat next to him, beckoning me over.

I come sit with him, and he snaps his fingers, producing a manila folder with my name on it. He opens it. A pen materializes and drops into his hand, and he jots something down.

I can’t see what he’s writing.

“Alright, so why did you summon me today?” he asks.

“Uhm — I was hoping to make a trade.”

“Mhm — and what are your proposed terms?”

“My soul? For uh —” I sputter, “a properly functioning brain and ample neurotransmitters?”

He lifts his head and looks at me, his eyes scanning from my greasy hair to my stained T-shirt to the sweatpants I never bother to wash.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but Hell is rather overpopulated right now,” he says as he sets my file off to the side. “We aren’t really trading for souls unless the soul in question is rather remarkable.”

I stare at him for a solid fifteen seconds.

“Are you telling me,” I say, “that I’m such a mess that I can’t even trade my soul away for some peace?”

“I’m telling you,” he responds, “that between all the politicians, the billionaires, and the mega-corporate CEOs, we don’t have much space for anyone else. And, to be quite honest with you, your soul is worth more than a trade for mental health.”

I let out a laugh. It sounds unhinged.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you when I work up the gumption to end it,” I retort.

“Unlikely, we don’t take suicides anymore either.”

He scans my apartment again and then looks at me.

“You’re not in treatment.”

It’s not a question.

“What’s the point if it can’t fix my broken brain chemistry?”

“It isn’t about fixing you, there’s nothing to fix.”

“I can’t get out of bed before one in the afternoon. I haven’t showered in five days. I have no friends, and I can’t keep a tidy home. How can you say there’s nothing to fix?”

“Those are just symptoms of an illness.”

“Yes — the illness I’d liked to cure,” I say. “I just want to be normal.”

“What is normal? Who’s to say that I grant you the cure for your depression, your anxiety, and your ADHD and you don’t later wind up with some other problem down the line that you can’t control? Illnesses just require a little management.”

“I don’t want to manage it. I want to cure it. I can’t be happy until I fix it.”

My tone is getting more and more angry. Tears burn my eyes. The demon sighs and looks around my apartment again. He stands and begins to gather garbage in his hands. Empty instant noodle cups, candy wrappers, soda cans.

“Do you know anyone with diabetes?” he asks.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask.

He goes into my kitchen and grabs a trash bag and starts filling it with garbage. Anything he can find.

“You don’t see diabetics giving up on life because their bodies can no longer process sugar the way everyone else’s can. They take medicine, they find alternative sweeteners, they learn how to work around their malfunctioning pancreas.”

I watch as he continues to clean my apartment, waving his hand like he’s Mary Poppins and levitating a stack of my books onto my bookshelf. I wince as he opens my blinds and my windows. A breeze flows into the room and I realize just how stuffy it’s been lately.

“Why should your mental health be treated any differently?” he continues.

“Diabetes doesn’t ruin friendships?” I say, almost annoyed with the comparison.

“Says who? Alcohol metabolizes as sugar. What if your friends only like to drink and party? What do you do when you can’t drink anymore?” he points out.

“Those don’t sound like very healthy friends," I say.

As soon as the words tumble out of my mouth, he sets me with a deadpan look. One perfect brow arched as if to say you’re proving my point, you idiot.

“Losing friends because of your mental health is more of a reflection of those friends, not you," he tells me, just incase I can't put it together myself..

“But, I get so clingy and needy. I lose my mind with people.”

“Because you’re not in treatment. Those things get better when you go to therapy and start taking medication for your poorly functioning synapses. You learn tools to regulate your emotions, and you find people who understand you when you can’t regulate.”

He tosses a dishrag at me and starts doing my mountain of dishes. I stand up and join him at the sink and a quiet falls between us as we work away at the stinking pile. I put them away as I dry them. When the pile is nearly done, I finally ask him.

“Why are you doing this?”

He looks at me before looking back to the dish he’s rinsing.

“You’re in a bad way. You just need a little stepping stone. A clean flat is a good start. Then, maybe after a long shower, we’ll call some doctors and schedule you an appointment so you can get the treatment you need,” he says. “If you don’t feel better after getting the help you need, I’ll take your soul. But you better think of something more fun to trade for than curing your depression. Give me a challenge, for God’s sake.”

I laugh first.

And then I cry.

The kind of crying that seems endless — streams and streams of tears that seem to come from some bottomless reservoir. He pats my back, and I feel catharsis for the first time in months. Maybe even years.

Is this what it’s like when someone understands you? When someone can see your pain and can speak directly to it?

“I can’t believe I had to summon a demon to get something so small as help cleaning my apartment and scheduling a doctor’s appointment,” I say.

“I bet there are people around you that would have been happy to help you — I bet you struggle with asking.”

“It’s hard,” I say through hitching tears. “I’m so ashamed.”

He nods and offers me a black handkerchief; I take it and wipe the wetness from my face.

“It gets easier once you get the help you need. Medication, therapy — those are stepping stones too. And once you’re well enough to do these basic care tasks, then you can tackle finding friends that care about you, curating goals and dreams you want to accomplish,” he says. “Living is a lot easier when you have something to live for.”

I have no idea how he reads me to filth, but I appreciate it.

“Now into the shower with you — I’ll get the flat cleaned in the meanwhile," he says with doting fussiness.

When the demon is ready to leave about four hours later, my apartment is spotless. It smells like peaches (he gave me some scented candles), and I have both a therapy and psychiatrist appointment booked for the following week. It has been a long time since I felt hopeful. For once, I see light at the end of the tunnel.

When he stands to leave, I don’t want him to go. He seems to sense this because he sighs and looks at me.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay, but you know where to find me. I’m your caseworker now, so if you have need something — and I do mean desperately need —” He holds out his hand, and I watch curiously as a wisp of black smoke spins there, faster and faster, thicker and thicker, until it solidifies into a band of black stone, “use this. Spin it on your left index finger three times counterclockwise, and I’ll come to your aid.”

He holds it between his elegant fingers and drops it into my hand. I slide it onto my index finger, and it fits perfectly. Made just for me.

“How do I repay you for everything?” I ask.

“The sulfur and blood will do. I’ll check in after a few months and see how you’re faring,” he says.

I nod and smile at him. “Thank you, again, for everything.”

His lips curve slightly in an enigmatic smile.

And, then, he is gone.

____________________________________________________

I hope you enjoyed this little short story. It's one that is very near and dear to my heart and represents conversations I've had with heartbroken friends and also, myself. Sometimes things are hard and we need a helping hand. If you are thinking of harming yourself, please call or text 988 (if in the US) or find your local crisis hotline here.

Tagging a few people who stated interest in reading this: @carrotsinnovember @whateverwarrior @lightningsrikes @a-crystallen-author @jessicagailwrites @artbyeloquent @csdarkfantasy @dyrewrites @dru-reads-writeblr

(PS I'm blown away that of you were excited for this little story, I really hope you liked it and that it didn't disappoint.)

#writing community #writers on tumblr #writing #authors #my writing #writeblr #romantasy #short story #mental health #actually depressed #actually adhd #actually mentally ill #short #demon #friendly demon #uplifting stories

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