#probably had a lengthy panic attack

[is-this-yuri]

I’m really, really sorry to have to tell you this, but you will not get SSDI in a matter of months. Not only is that incredibly rare and only for the extreme cases, but the SSA is backed up to Hell because of covid.

I applied BEFORE COVID and my case is still in limbo. I’m on my third appeal. It will have been 5 years since I applied come this August. I have not worked a single day and my permanent condition has worsened and they are still giving me the runaround.

I’m not trying to scare you or discourage you—absolutely apply, but do it with a disability attorney this time. They work on contingency only, and will only take money from the backpay the government will give you once you’re approved (backdated to the date of application). They are probably the only people who can navigate the purposefully-confusing forms and deadlines and expectations and I have never heard of a case being approved without an attorney attached.

In the meantime… buckle up. Make contingency plans. Be prepared for this to be years of brutal survival before you make it out to the other side.

I wish you the best of luck. Hang in there. It is just going to be a longer period than you initially expected 🧡

i'm at a similar timeframe as you, and i think the main issue has been the lack of medical records since i've been going into the process completely without those. apparently the SSA wants to know ive been in treatment with no improvements for at least a year, and if i can prove that i'll be much more likely to get approved.

i also have a case manager helping me with the paperwork side of it, and we're discussing getting a lawyer for me. i'm going to really need all the backpay i can get, so that's going to be a last resort.

of course i'm trying to be hopeful and generous with my estimates because while im confident i will eventually get approved, i'm genuinely worried the wait will kill me. so, maybe i live in a bit of a fantasy to keep me going. that said, i don't think it's that unrealistic to think this could be the one

my only contingency is hoping people are generous enough to support me while i wait, because i truly have no other options.

[junosmindpalace]

Im in love with your senku x reader writings

They are absolutely adorable🥺

Ive been sick for a whole week now and i still feel terrible

It made me wonder how Senku would act with reader being sick and bedridden?

And Senku is just near her side, watching over her?🥺

Maybe y/n collapses during all the hard work in the stone world, and turns out having a strong fever?

Watching her fall asleep, keeping her tucked in, handing her water etc

I think they would be the absolute cutest 🥺🥺

thank you so much for your request and patience! i hope you were able to recover quickly (me and my horrid timing…)!

--! warnings: sickness, anxiety(?)

--> wc: 1k

The shift from living in an advanced civilization to the stone age was massive and required a lot of adjusting. 

You were fortunate enough to exist in a time where everything you could ever want and need was easily accessible, from all the knowledge in the world at your fingertips to all sorts of items at your disposal. All your basic necessities could be easily met with a short walk to the supermarket. 

So when all of that turned upside down, it was a challenge to keep up.

The petrification took a large toll on you when you awoke from your lengthy slumber. You were powerless to save the people you loved and who brought you comfort. Most of your time was spent attempting to accommodate your new living circumstances, physically and mentally. 

Anxiety and panic was a constant in the back of your mind with so much unknown about the potential attack on mankind, and you were unable to soothe yourself with the hobbies you once enjoyed. Your physical health also suffered. Your diet had changed drastically, you were forced to take on a lot of labor in order to stay alive. 

But throughout it all, Senku made adjusting easier by helping you learn everything you needed to know to help you survive in your new environment. The two of you worked together to hunt, build shelter and tools and fashion clothing. Senku’s determination and upbeatness despite such a traumatic life altering event helped keep you sane. You didn’t need to strain yourself as much when Taiju and Yuzuriha later joined the group either, especially with Taiju’s endless stamina. 

When you and Senku split from your friends in order to establish alliances with other potential survivors, you came along a small village that also helped in terms of labor. You befriended and recruited many strong and resourceful people to help the both of you with your mission. Still, you were doing a lot. Your body didn’t have the time to gradually adjust to your new lifestyle. 

For a while, you were able to push through. For the sake of your survival, work took priority. But eventually, sometime after Ruri was cured, you couldn’t keep hitting ignore on your exhaustion, and eventually you felt the consequences of this action catch up to you.

It seemed that there was always something to do in Ishigami Village, which was unsurprising considering your circumstances. It was a particularly harsh sunny day, the sun beating down at the villagers who tried, futilely, to rid themselves of the discomfort the sun’s glare brought them.

“Particularly hot out today, huh, Senku?” Gen panted out from beside his scientist friend, the two both sharing uncomfortable looks on their faces. 

“It hasn’t been this hot in a while! We should make sure the children and elderly are alright.” Kohaku commented upon overhearing, putting a hand over her eyes to shield the sun’s rays and survey the villagers. Senku mimicked her not far away. 

“We won’t get much work done under these conditions. We should probably-” Senku had started, but a thud interrupted his train of thought. Everyone turned toward the sound to find you had collapsed and lied unconscious on the ground. 

Immediately your friends were at your side, the strongest villagers, Kohaku and Magma, carrying you into one of the huts in the village. After Senku assessed you, he realized to his horror that you had come down with a strong fever. In the modern world, a cold was nothing to stress over, especially at your age. But with the change in…everything, it was a lot more concerning, especially since Ruri had almost died of pneumonia.

Luckily, the Kingdom of Science’s sulfa drug was successful, but the downside was that it needed time to create again. In the meantime, your friends did everything they could to accommodate your sickness, Senku being at the forefront of it all.

Kohaku delivered spring water like she did in order to help with Ruri’s sickness, and Chrome, along with Suika and other villagers, would collect various supplies Senku advised him of to help with your recovery- food, materials for medical tools and the like. Senku stayed by your side throughout it all, making sure to assess you regularly and work to get the panacea done as soon as possible.

It was uncomfortable enough being sick in the modern world, but with the amount of pain you were in from your fever along with not being able to enjoy your old comforts, the fever took a higher toll on you than expected.

Senku stayed by your side to soothe you the best ways he knew how. He used his knowledge of science to create whatever forms of entertainment he could, and having another person from your time was also a comfort. He did his best to make you laugh and help keep you out of your panicked mindset.

At the peak of your illness, and when your anxiety was at its highest, Senku stayed by your side and watched over you until you fell asleep, sometimes lingering in the house or setting up his own sleeping bag beside. He convinced himself it was for your peace of mind, but deep down, being near you and able to quickly respond to anything alarming also helped put his heart and mind at ease.

“You’ll be okay, Y/N. You’ll recover from this, I’m ten billion percent certain of it. Get your rest.” He’d tell you with all the confidence in the world, and it was hard not to believe him when his words were so firm and full of certainty. 

Senku would lean over and tuck you in, insisting that it was important that you kept yourself warm. He helped you drink water when you were too weak to do so yourself, and encouraged you to sleep a lot in between meals.  

Your sickness put you out of commission for work for a while before the medicine was finished, and even after taking the medicine, your body still needed to adjust after having been used to more modern ones. 

Eventually your fever symptoms slowly started to lessen, and through the hot spring water, food and other things, along with Senku’s assessments of your condition, you were back on your feet feeling reborn. Senku made sure to continue monitoring you from time to time, and told you to come to him if you were ever feeling down again, both physically and mentally (because as much as you wanted to avoid worrying him, his attentive eye and big heart always manage to see through you).

[adventuringblind]

Picking at my Sins

Oscar piastri x reader

Genre: Angst, smut?

Summary: Reader comes from a religious background and struggles with self worth. Oscar is there to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: religious trauma, alluded to SH, panic attacks, talks of sex

Notes: mmmmmm definitely not self projecting or anything

Masterlist

The one thing nobody teaches in church is that innocence is simply a construct in the human mind. No one is ever truly innocent. Especially those who you expect to always love and respect you. The ones who preach to always follow the rules.

They turned their back on her. A mistake that wasn't even hers led to her entire church turning their backs on her. She was left to fend with nothing. Her parents were facing the same issue, only they were the ones who started it.

It was for that reason she left.

She wouldn't call herself innocent. Simply inexperienced. She knows what she would like to try but hasn't been able to do so.

She was alone for so long. A new place makes it hard to make friends. Especially since she has a religious background, people tend to immediately think the worst.

She met Oscar in October of 2022. It was cold and rainy that evening. She needed something from the store, and she didn't have a car, so she'd settled for walking in the torrential down pour.

Alcohol. She needed alcohol after a lengthy conversation with her mom that didn't end well and a ten hour shift at a job she gets minimum wage for. Then, to feed her depressed mood, she went to the nearest park with a pretty view, sat on the bench, and drank straight from the bottle.

She's not sure how long she'd been here, but it was long enough that she was shivering and drenched. The liquor barely touched. How had religion touched that, too? Why does she feel sick at the idea of putting her mouth to the bottle?

The park is deserted, and she assumes that it'll remain that way. It doesn't. And at some point, a male comes running towards her. He's probably just out for some kind of workout he can't pause even for the weather.

She assumes he'll run right by her. He doesn't. Imstead he stops to make conversation. Then he sits with her. Then they walk together to somewhere out of the rain.

That is how she found herself talking to the Australian any moment she got. It's how she made a friend who didn't care that she couldn't stomach eating food at times because it could cause imperfections. A friend who let her rant about her ridiculous situation.

Then, a friend became a lover. He asked her out in January. He asked her to that same park which they had met months earlier. He told her they didn't have to do anything quickly. That he was willing to help her figure it out. He truly saw her for who she was and wanted to continue having stupid conversations and finding weird locations to explore.

She worked through things slowly. Many panic attacks were had. The first time she dyed her hair, she cried. Her first time wearing clothes that revealed more than they should have, she also cried. She couldn't even wear them out due to the sheer amount of overwhelming feelings.

Then she left to travel with Oscar. He dragged her around the world with him. Asking nothing in return aside from loving him unconditionally and being his pillar through the stress of a rookie season.

He was so gentle through everything. Honest with her about every misconception she had about life. Reminded her daily that being herself wasn't a sin.

The one thing she hadn't been able to get past was intimacy. It is the most taboo subject to speak about in a church. Aside from hearing that it's bad unless you're married. If it happens any other way, then you'd be punished. Shunned by all. Labeled as wicked and disgusting.

Hand holding was the first step. That came pretty easy while they were friends even. Then he kissed her and she kissed back and even though she was clumsy it was amazing.

The kiss was followed by the first of many panic attacks. A nasty thing that had her wailing and clawing at her skin.

Eventually, she got past that. Though she picked up new habits that probably weren't the best. Oscar made it a point to keep her hands occupied in more productive ways. Even if it felt childish like coloring in a colorbook. They went through three of them in a month. It became a way that they both relax.

She felt herself getting more comfortable with touch after that. Even getting far enough to get clothes off.

And then she wanted to have him completely. He was so gentle through the entire thing. Always asking how she felt. The girl felt utterly clueless and fumbled with everything, but she didn't panic. Maybe it was the overwhelming feeling of love that kept those dark thoughts out of her brain.

It was a month later that it all came crashing down. Her parents had found her. They showed up at her flat while Oscar was there.

She'd never seen the Aussie so defensive. He'd always been so laid back. Until she watched him tell her parents to get out in a horrifyingly stern voice.

It didn't matter, though. The damage had already been done. They'd already yelled about how awful she'd become. The female had just hung her head and listened. It came like muscle memory.

Oscar did get them out eventually. They left in a flurry of shouts as Oscar closed the door and locked it. Then he started from square one again.

That's when the panic attacks during sex started. She couldn't stop the thoughts. They snuck up on her. One second, she was in bliss, and the next, she was trying to claw her skin off her body. The overwhelming disgust with herself seemed to set in after that.

But Oscar was there, every time. He would hold her. Get her cleaned up. Place bandages where her nails had managed to rip skin. Then he’d occupy her mind with anything far away from the topics of intimacy and sex. He’d let her initiate contact so he didn’t scare her.

Sometime, he gets asked by friends (Lando) about his personal life. Why the two aren’t often see going out together. Why she prefers to do a shot then drink mocktails for the rest of the night.

And Oscar always gives the same over used response. “Cause I’d rather see her smiling then picking herself apart over make believe sins.”

[c0zy-fluff]

Guys idk why I just thought of an angsty hc for Bubba, buuuuut here we go (im so sorry):

Y'know when some ppl sit and they're huddling their knees to their chest?

I feel like when Bubba's stressed out and/or upset abt smth, he'd go into the huddled position and then he'd hold his ears over his face with his hooves, in an attempt to prevent anyone from seeing him in the state he's in. Another thing, although im not sure how lengthy his tail is, he'd probably try to hug himself with his tail in an attempt to somewhat comfort himself. (I'm not the best with descriptions, but y'all probably get the idea)

StarStudent bonus scenario (i actually did NOT expect to write this much):

Kickin would see that Bubba is stressed/upset and kneel down to his level and attempt to reach his wing/hand out to Bubba, as if he's thinking on how they want to comfort Bubba. He'd ask Bubba what's the matter, but Bubba would slightly shuffle away as a message saying 'don't look at me please' b/c Bubba would expect himself to be better than crying over smth 'stupid'. (like a bad grade on test/quiz, things not exactly going the way he expected, literal a n x i e t y, etc.) Seeing Bubba upset like this, Kickin would be concerned, yet patient on if Bubba wants to talk yet or not.

When Bubba does start to talk, he peeks out from his ears and questions Kickin if he's even good enough to still be the 'calm and collected smart one'. Realizing what Bubba had said, Kickin tries to intervene, but Bubba immediately hides his face underneath his ears again and tells them to nevermind what he just said and that it's 'stupid'. (Yes, I got inspired by Episode 4 of Murder Drones to write this part, leave me alone-)

Kickin, as soft and gentle as he can, tries to get Bubba's ears off his face and tells him that it's alright to fail at things and that he shouldn't let even one small mistake overcome his emotions. Bubba, still looking as miserable as ever from his mini panic attack, slightly looks back at Kickin for reassurance from beneath his ears and then starts to take a few deep breaths.

Bubba smiles at Kickin, finally relieved of his mini breakdown and feeling reassured enough, and thanks them for helping him get through that. Kickin returns that smile, gets back on his feet to offer Bubba a hand, and then offers him if he wants to watch a few horror movies w/ him and see if they're any good. Bubba agrees and then they just snuggle and watch some good ol' horror movies for the rest of the night. (This ending part was honestly inspired by @skelexguts :3)

[superconductivebean]

#939: poppy sweeting headcanon post - 1

Tagging @caramel-hufflepuff and @thriftstorebabayaga right away.

Imelda headcanons posts: >>>1 (sfw) || >>>2 (nsfw) || >>>3 (sfw) I'll probably make a series now? We'll see.

Once again raising my head from the Brainrot fog to share some character headcanons with the world. Brainrot is a fic I'm working on.

Demisexual girl. Hogwarts was rarely a friendly place to her and relationships were no exception. Poppy felt alienated as she grew older; thought something was very wrong with her seeing her peer after peer being courted or sought courtships, and feeling no such wish or desire herself;

Poppy faced quite a lot of verbal bullying. Brainrot: She was never afraid to talk the bullies back though, she nearly always had someone to back her up: 1) the Sallow twins, knowing perfectly what's it like, couldn't tolerate it at school; 2) Ominis is aware of all the gossip, past and recent, he wasn't hesitating to murk waters; 3) Imelda has no desire to play in one team with disgraceful people nor she had patience for anyone who would to talk her down for all the same reasons Poppy was constantly disparaged; 4) Garreth, a troublemaker he is, found certain usages of potions wasteful and utterly disgusting;

These friendships and acquaintances began with ever-so-friendly approach of the Sallows. Anne wanted to be everyone's friend, Sebastian could only help her with it, each could feel if anyone needed a shoulder in this castle -- each was longing for a sense of trust and company friendship offers, which came from the loss of their parents and living with an uncle of rather thunderous temper;

Brainrot: Poppy's first year at Hogwarts was Professor Sharp's second year of his teaching tenure. Students would describe him as an acute wizard but his demeanour was as rugged as his looks. Poppy heard of Potions before and thought she'd never go through the curriculum with a barking menace of a teacher like him. Gran, aware of the circumstances of his early retirement, told Poppy not to worry about what he has to bark what he has to say. Gran's reassurance didn't help Poppy not to be afraid of Sharp and that fear lingered;

Brainrot: Poppy… knows how many kinds of potions ingredients are harvested. How quills are harvested. What it takes to draw blood, obtain eyes, rip off wings. All in exact detail. She couldn't force her hands to grab anything that was taken from a beast; that one time she was made to pick something and throw into a brew she experienced what we would call panic attack. Little shits laughed at her, Professor Sharp send each in a lengthy detention and thus shattered Poppy's fear of him;

Poppy's greatest secret -- coming from a family of poachers -- isn't exactly a secret for anyone of the staff members. They took it upon themselves not to let Poppy repeat her parents' footsteps, instead, they re-acquainted her with her family's legacy, Havelock Sweeting was an important part of it for her. Unicorns typically avoid wizards -- and he was a wizard;

Poppy knew she had in her -- to shut bullies' mouths -- but she couldn't figure out how to do that. The Sallows could fight back; Anne spent quite a hefty amount of time in detentions for fighting with someone, to the point she'd put her place in the Slytherin House Quidditch team at risk. Nobody wanted to cross Ominis' path, regardless if his threats were nothing but a bluff. Garreth was a presumed menace. Imelda sent people off with just a stare, and recreating Sharp's bark felt impossible, he must've picked a habit at the Ministry;

Silly as it sounds, she learned a few things from Leander. The guy wasn't a bully but could slip in a rude remark, however, Poppy felt like she was making him a nicer person proud to mention his mom's garden than herself becoming a snake with sharp fangs;

Things got better after Natty was enrolled. They quickly became friends, both sharing grim experiences with poachers and their operations, both being victims of their dishonourable livelihoods. Natty, too, had a snap to her. No one dared to speak badly of them, but Poppy sensed, it was only delaying the inevitable. After the school would be over, who would save her then? How does one learn to defend oneself against unceasingly pestering gnats;

Indubitably, the biggest change in Poppy's life was MC. Frankly, she couldn't ever come to think all she needed was a dragon, its egg, and a reckless friend who would get scared to death midway through the returning of said egg to its mum.

If you've any requests for certain headcanons, including nsfw ones, send an ask or leave a reply.

some tags: @catohphm @celestial--sapphic @ladyofsappho @limonnitsa @phinik @endeavour12345

[always-anxious612]

Close Calls Ch. 2

This is the last chapter of this but I may do more of this au in the future! Also please don't judge me for my accuracy lol. I only did surface-level research on wounds and infections :')

Description: The infection grows more serious, and Virgil has to drag Roman to the clinic before it gets any worse. Unfortunately, he doesn't quite succeed. In other words, Roman is stubborn, Virgil is tired, and everything goes wrong.

Genre: hurt/comfort

Pairings: Prinxiety, Logicality

Warnings: panic attack, injuries mentioned, infections, homophobia menntioned, crying (let me know if I missed something or if you want something tagged!)

Word Count: 5,360

Chapter 1

The next day, I woke up a bit late, and, after hurriedly getting ready, began my duties as usual hoping Logan wouldn’t notice I was late. Logan was already in the clinic, as always, but this time Lord Patton was there as well. Thankfully, his presence saved me from a lengthy lecture. Patton was a well-known Lord in the castle, famous for his kindness and friendliness. Plus, he and Roman were pretty close as far as I could tell. Well, as close as a visiting Lord and a prince who only saw each other in formal spaces could be, I guess. They seemed to get along well is what I’m trying to say. Everyone at the castle loved him, though to be honest. Recently, I’d noticed he’d been visiting the castle more frequently and staying for longer periods of time, making a point to visit the clinic and say hello when he did. It had gotten to the point where he insisted that I call him Patton and drop the formalities while we were in the clinic. Logan had seemed to drop the formalities with him long ago.

“Um, good morning, my Lord,” I greeted Patton, still not quite being able to break the habit quite yet and trying to run a hand through my hand to make my bedhead more presentable. What so sue me, I didn’t have time to fix it that morning. I’d been up all night worrying about a certain prince.

“Oh, hi, Virgil! Good morning!” Patton grinned brightly. Ugh, how did he have so much energy so early in the day. I’d never understand morning people.

“I told you to just call me Patton, kiddo. No need to be so formal,” he added, coming over to ruffle my hair. Welp, guess fixing it had been pointless. Sometimes, I wondered if he knew we were the same age or if he just called everyone kiddo. From what I knew of him it was probably the latter.

“Um, right, so uh, is everything ok?” I questioned, awkwardly clearing my throat. “I—I mean, you’re not sick or anything, right?”

Sure, he’d been showing up here for a while now on his visits, but it never hurt to make sure. This was a clinic after all.

“Oh, no, no,” Patton assured, walking back over to Logan. “Just checking up on my two favorite physicians!”

“I’m still a nurse, technically,” I reminded him, though I couldn’t help but relax at his friendliness.

“Oh, Virgil, I meant to tell you. Today, you have the day off,” Logan finally spoke up, looking up from the papers he had been flipping through on his desk. So much for worrying about being late…Wait what?

“The day off?” I blanched. “But you always say that a doctor’s work is never done.”

I truly couldn’t remember a single day off since I’d started working here unless it was for medical reasons—ironic really.

“Ah, yes, well, Patton has expressed an interest in my profession, and I thought I’d take today to teach him a few things,” Logan replied, blushing slightly. Strange, Logan didn’t blush very easily…. I glanced at Patton and raised an eyebrow, trying not to jump to conclusions. If Logan understood what I was hinting at, he promptly ignored me, and I squashed down the thought. It wasn’t my business anyway, especially considering my own circumstances.

“If an emergency arises, I shall send for you, but soon, I’ll be taking Patton on my rounds to teach him to deal with less, um, life-threatening injuries and illnesses. You’re welcome to stay in the clinic if you’d like, but in case you need to find me, my list of patients to visit for today will be on my desk,” he instructed, clearing his throat.

“Oh, um, ok,” I muttered, already inching toward the door, “See ya later then, I guess. Bye Lo. Uh, Patton,”

I nodded a goodbye to both of them and waited until Patton had smiled and waved cheerily and Logan just nodded back to make my escape. Well, this gave me a chance to check on Roman at least.

Once I got up the many stairs and reached Roman’s room, I took a minute to catch my breath and look around before knocking. You’d think I’d be more used to making that trip by now.

“Um, your highness?” I called when I received no answer to my knock, glancing around again, just to be sure. When I still received no answer, I decided it was safe to just go in. Maybe he didn’t hear me?

“Roman?” I called after I made sure the door was closed behind me. Roman was standing by his window, studying the lush gardens outside, but he made no move to greet me.

“Princey?” I tried again, growing more concerned by the minute.

“Oh, Virgil!” He finally exclaimed, turning around a bit unsteadily. Huh, well that didn’t seem good.

“Uh, hey there, Roman. You doing ok?” I asked, already trying to examine him. His forehead was slick with sweat, and—though it looked like he had tried to cover it with makeup—I could see how flushed he was from across the room.

“Yeah, Yeah, I’m perfectly ok, V,” he smiled, as I came closer. The closer I got the worse he looked. His eyes were glazed, and he looked a little out of it, constantly rubbing at his eyes. Plus, other than the badly concealed flush of his cheeks, he was concerningly pale.

“Really,” I deadpanned.

“Yes, really. You’re only a tad bit blurry!” he asserted before cursing as he realized he’d just given himself away, “It’s really not that bad. I’m fine.”

“Wha—Roman, that’s not fine,” I chastised, hurrying the rest of the way over to him as he blinked sluggishly. “Can you make it to your bed?” “No, because I do not need to be in my bed,” he waved me off nervously.

“Roman,” I growled, grabbing his arm.

“Truly, Virgil, I’m completely fine,” Roman insisted, pulling at my grip.

“Obviously,” I retorted when he failed to get his arm back, “Just drop the act so I can help you. I need to see exactly what’s going on.”

“No,” He snapped yanking away from me, “I said I’m fine. I-I have an important meeting with the council to attend about the raids. So, if you’re done, I need to be on my way. Good day, Virgil,”

“Don’t you dare, Roman,” I threatened as he made his way shakily to the door.

“Listen, just—just make an excuse. You’re the prince. I’m sure you can postpone the meeting.”

“It’s not my meeting. My father called it, and he’s expecting me. I’m very sorry, Virgil, but I have to go,”

Ah, so that’s how it was. If this involved his father, it was going to be a whole lot harder to convince him to skip.

Roman had made it into the hallway and halfway toward the staircase by the time I collected my thoughts and made it to the doorway. However, I didn’t miss the fact that he was hugging the wall the whole way there.

“Roman—er, your highness—” I cleared my throat, looking around quickly. It was strangely empty. Whatever, it would be a lot more trouble if I got caught with Roman looking like this than for not addressing him properly, so I pushed it to the back of my mind.  

“Roman, please. You can’t do this. You can barely stand up straight, much less last through a whole meeting,” I begged. Roman straightened slightly but otherwise kept walking making me tsk.

When he reached the staircase, he turned to glance at me before straightening once again and disappearing down the stairs. Groaning at his stubbornness, I hurried after him.

“Roman?” I called, getting worried when I turned the corner and didn’t see him. I made it a little over halfway down the winding staircase before finding Roman, leaning against the wall and panting. How the hell had he moved so fast and gotten so far ahead in this condition?

“Ro?” I asked hesitantly, eyes flicking over his slouched posture and glassy expression.

“May—Maybe I don’t feel so great,” He muttered before sliding unceremoniously down the wall.

“Princey,” I gasped, grabbing his arm and part of his shirt to keep him from toppling down the stairs.

“Hey, hey, Roman, are you ok?” I questioned, shifting to get a better hold on him and pinning him back against the wall. Roman mumbled a response too quiet to hear as his eyes fluttered.

“No no no no. Roman, stay awake, ok? Stay with me. We’re still on the staircase, I can’t get—I don’t—ugh, damn it, Roman. I’m not strong enough to carry you back up. Why didn’t you just listen to me,” I muttered, starting to panic.

It’s ok, it’s ok, I started coaching myself, taking deep breaths as I tried not to launch into a full-blown panic attack. just take a deep breath and think. It’s not that bad, I blatantly lied to myself, trying not to even entertain the thought of what would happen if someone chose this moment to walk down the staircase. I could do this, right? I could—I could at least get him to the clinic if not back to his room. That was better anyway. He needed medical care that wasn’t me, and besides, going downstairs would be easier than going up, right? At least that’s what I hoped…

I was wrong. Or maybe I wasn’t. Maybe this was easier than going upstairs, but if that were true, I dreaded to think how going upstairs would be. After I had convinced Roman to finally let me take him to the clinic—as if I was really giving him a choice this time or that he was alert enough to fight back anyway—I found myself carrying a delirious, semi-conscious Prince on my back. Unfortunately, no matter what direction you go, trying to navigate stairs with a whole person on your back is rather difficult.

“Remind me—to—to kill you—after I make sure—you’re ok,” I huffed, out of breath and already sweating. Roman didn’t reply, concerning me even more. How had he gotten so sick just overnight? It had to be the infection, right?

After what felt like ages, I reached the clinic and almost sagged in relief.

“Logan?” I gasped, kicking open the door. At this point, Roman was completely unresponsive and slack against me, making it even harder to keep him on my back. I quickly laid him on the clinic bed and frantically looked around for Logan before realizing he was probably already on his rounds.

“Are you kidding me,” I grumbled, going to grab a damp towel for Roman’s forehead. The whole point of risking bringing him here instead of to his room was that I didn’t know what to do.

Huffing, I gathered some bandages and supplies to check on Roman’s wound again. That’s really the only thing I could think of that could be causing this. Did the infection get worse? Just how bad? When I got the bandages from yesterday off, I hissed in sympathy. Just as I had feared, the infection was much worse. It—This whole thing was beginning to feel like my fault. If I’d done better cleaning and stitching it. If I’d noticed that he was developing a fever yesterday. If I’d convinced him to come to Logan. If—If…I took a deep breath, pushing away the thoughts to focus on what I should do now. My hands trembled as I began thoroughly cleaning and sterilizing the infected area. At least there were actual supplies in the clinic, I guess.

            After I cleaned it, I set to work quickly, gently rubbing some antibiotic cream over the infection and making sure the stitches were ok. I’d have to make sure to change his bandages more often and to keep it clean so this wouldn’t happen again or get any worse. Next, I grabbed a cup of water and some medicines that should help with both the fever and the infection. This was the only other thing I could think of doing. The infection didn’t seem severe enough to have to remove it surgically or anything, but I’d be sure to ask Logan when he came back. The thought of him seeing how horribly I’d messed this up made me sick to my stomach, especially when the prince was the patient; but I knew it would be much worse if I didn’t get his help.

Sighing, I brought the medicine over to Roman and sat on the edge of the bed

“Princey,” I whispered, nudging his arm. Roman groaned and groggily batted my hand away.

“Come on, Princey, I need you to take these,” I coaxed softly, ignoring his swat and shaking him again. This time, he managed to squint his eye open.

“Do wha’?” he slurred tiredly.

“Take these pills, Ro. They’ll help.”

“M-My father. I have to—” he remembered suddenly, trying to push himself up and ignoring the offered pills.

“No,” I responded curtly, pushing him back down gently, “Your father can wait. I’ll even help you make up an excuse. Or you know, I’ll have Logan write you a medical note to prove that you have a fever and are not fit for work today. You—You passed out, Roman, I think that warrants skipping the meeting. Lean back and take these. Please.”

Roman sighed heavily but did as he was told and took the pills and water from me. His easy compliance told me all I needed to know about how badly he must be feeling.

After he gulped down the rest of the water, he ended up passing out again, leaving me to sit and wait by myself. Logan’s rounds usually took about two and a half to three hours because of the amount of soldiers the castle housed. More soldiers meant more injuries to check up on, and on days were the infirmary wasn’t full, or when the clinic was slow, Logan took his time to personally visit and check on every one of them. That’s not even mentioning the other castle staff that he’d tend to when illness spread throughout the castle or the fact that he had earned the title of royal physician, meaning that he also took care of not only the royal family but also any visiting noble staying in the castle. Needless to say, he had a lot of patients, and though he had other physicians and nurses that would regularly come and help him, especially when there was an influx, he usually preferred to work alone when he could. Today, no one was scheduled to be in the clinic, and no one was in the infirmary, so I knew Logan would be taking his time. With Patton there, it would probably take him even longer. He loved any opportunity to teach.

Sighing once again, I went to stand to get some water for myself when something warm clamped around my wrist.

“Roman?” I questioned, turning to find his hand holding me back. “Is something wrong?”

He grunted softly before yanking me forward, almost causing me to trip onto him.

“Cuddle,” he mumbled before I could yell at him. I felt my face flush bright red at his request.

“R-Roman, you know we can’t,” I protested, trying to pull away.

“Virgil,” Roman pouted, gazing up at me blearily, “Please?”

“We’re—We’re not in your room, Ro. Someone could walk in.”

“Please?” he begged, already struggling to keep his eyes open. I bit my lip hesitantly. He didn’t look far from falling asleep again. Maybe I could just cuddle long enough to get him to sleep then slip out before anyone could see us. Besides, it wasn’t as if anybody but me and Logan usually came into the clinic when it was closed anyway, and Logan was out on his rounds.

“Fine,” I gave in reluctantly as Roman smiled victoriously and scooted over to make room for me.

I couldn’t help the contented sigh that escaped my lips once I was settled in his arms, making sure to be careful of his wound. It was just so warm and comforting, and the way he was playing with my hair…I absentmindedly snuggled into his chest and let the warmth numb my mind. I hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, worried about Roman—apparently for good reason. A quick nap wouldn’t hurt, right? Besides, I was sure Logan wouldn’t be back for at least a couple of hours, and he was always complaining about the dark circles under my eyes and telling me to get more sleep. He should be happy I’m finally taking his advice. Unfortunately, my brain was too tired and too content to remind me just how bad an idea it was to let my guard down out in the open like this. Roman’s now steady breaths lulled me deeper into comfort and I felt myself slipping. It was so warm. This is nice, my mind almost sighed as I slid into sleep with Roman’s arms still wrapped securely around me. I should really learn to listen to my instincts more…

I was pulled from that warmth a little bit later by a rough nudge to my arm. Thinking it must be Roman, I groaned and shoved the arm away. The nudging paused and I was about to go back to sleep when there was another nudge—softer this time—followed by a voice.

“Virgil, you should probably get up.”

Oh. That—That wasn’t Roman’s voice. In an instant I shot up, inhaling sharply as I saw Logan and Patton peering down at me. No, oh no, no no no, how could I have let this happen? I should have never fallen asleep. I always harped on Roman for doing things that could get us caught but this was all my fault. What should I do? What could I do? Both of them had always been kind to me, but there was no telling how they’d react to this. Were they going to be angry? Were they disgusted with me? Were—Were they going to report me? What about Roman? I couldn’t let anything happen to him because of my carelessness. As my thoughts swirled around me, it became harder to draw air into my lungs. Once I realized that I couldn’t breathe, my chest constricted, holding back more of my breath. If it tightened anymore, I feared it would be impossible to breath altogether, but I couldn’t seem to collect my thoughts enough to loosen the knot there. My hands shook as I hugged myself, willing my panicked thoughts to go away. Obviously, it didn’t work. I saw motion from the corner of my eye and realized Logan was talking to me. Had he been talking this whole time?

“Virgil,” he coached, “Virgil, do you think you can take a breath in? Follow my breathing, ok?” more movement, to my left this time, but I couldn’t bring myself to look up. I tried to follow along; I really did. But every breath hurt. Everything hurt. My throat was burning. My chest ached. My head pounded. And everything was going wrong. Everything that I feared was happening. We’d been discovered. I ruined it. We couldn’t—I couldn’t—we just…half formed thoughts plagued my mind and my breath hitched as I realized I was crying. Was I going to be executed for this? 

“Virgil, dearest. Look at me, my love,” a different voice spoke up this time, but there was only one person who called me dearest and my love. I felt a hand touch my cheek hesitantly, then gently tilt my face until I was face to face with Roman.

“I need you to breath with me, Virge,” he instructed, calmly. “In for four seconds. Hold for seven. Out for eight, remember? You can do it.”

As he counted out the seconds, he removed his hand from my face in order to take my hand and press it against his chest. I struggled to follow along at first, but he continued breathing deeply and counting the seconds until I could. With Roman’s reassurances and guidance, I slowly felt myself relaxing.

Once the world came into focus again and I could breathe regularly without feeling like I was dying, I took one more deep breath before slouching forward into Roman’s chest.

“It’s alright, V,” Roman soothed, carding his fingers through my hair. Except, it wasn’t ok. Logan and Patton saw us. They know. I couldn’t even bring myself to look up and see if they were still standing there or if they’d already gone to report us to the king. The silence in the room made me inclined to believe the latter. I loved Logan, but he was very strict with the rules. There’s no way he’d let something as big as this slide. I was just another nurse, right? Instead, I sniffled and buried myself further into Roman’s chest.

“Oh, your shirt,” I lamented shakily, brushing my fingers against the wet spot that now stained the expensive fabric.

“It’s nothing, stormcloud,” Roman hushed, pulling me closer. I felt more tears burn my eyes at the action.

“Sorry,” I whispered, feeling the weight of everything settle uncomfortably in my chest.

“You have nothing to apologize for, dearest,” Roman assured softly. Liar. How could he say that when I was the reason we’d never get to see each other again.

“Um, pardon me for interrupting, my prince, but I believe this tea may help Virgil,” Logan’s voice offered softly from behind me making me jump. He was still here? Wait, he didn’t sound angry or disgusted. “Ah, um, thank you,” Roman responded, accepting the tea.

Taking a steadying breath, I finally pushed myself away from Roman’s chest. Roman handed me the tea before placing his arms loosely around my waist. I looked at the tea then hesitantly back to Logan. Patton stood behind him, worry swimming in his eyes. What was going on exactly?

“The tea helps to calm the heart rate and I find it to be quite helpful when I’m feeling stressed,” Logan explained awkwardly when I didn’t make any move to drink it. Nodding warily, I took a sip, relishing the calming warmth that flooded me when I did.

“Um, I also would like to apologize, Virgil. I did not realize that waking you would cause such a reaction. I should have been more careful,” Logan continued after a short but tense silence. At his apology, I couldn’t take it anymore. Why wasn’t he freaking out?

“Aren’t—Aren’t you gonna say something? A-About this?” I stammered out, hating how raspy and shaky my voice sounded.

“What would you like me to say, Virgil?”

I blanched at him, then glanced back at Roman who looked equally confused as I felt.

“I—Aren’t you, d-disgusted or—or something?” I pressed incredulously.

“Why would I be disgusted?” Logan questioned, tilting his head. I mirrored his look of confusion before setting my tea down lest I spill it with how much I was still shaking.

“By—By us? Or—I mean—m-maybe not disgusted but, you know, this isn’t really…accepted. I-I mean don’t you think it’s—wrong or something? I mean we’re both—and on top of that, I’m just a—I—”

“Virgil,” Logan interrupted before I could work myself up too much, “I would never be disgusted by this. Any of it. By you both being of the same gender, or by you being from different social classes. I—You know that I’m your friend, right? And that I would never report you or anything? Even if I were against it, I couldn’t do that to you. I would never do that to you.”

At my shocked expression, Logan’s shoulders slumped.

“I take it you didn’t know any of that,” he sighed, looking even more miserable as I shook my head.

“I suppose that’s on me, then,” he frowned remorsefully.

“Lo,” I started, suddenly feeling guilty for ever doubting him. I never would have dreamed that he considered me a friend. I thought I was just another apprentice. He’s had plenty before me…

“No, no, I should have made it clear that I care for you,” Logan insisted. “Let me make it clear now.”

I shut my mouth and nodded for him to continue.

“Virgil, I have considered you a friend for a while now, and if you’d like, I’d still like to consider you one,”—he paused and I nodded frantically at the offer before he smiled and continued—“I care for you and your well-being very much, and I would never wish harm on you. I have no intention of ever reporting you as long as the current king is in rule. His methods and punishments tend to be a little cruel, and I never want to see you hurt. Nor will I report you for something that shouldn’t even be considered a crime. If Prince Roman is the one you love and you are the one he loves, then I support you fully. You cannot help who you fall in love with. If it is mutual and consenting, then there shouldn’t be a problem, social class or gender be damned.”

“That’s right, kiddo,” Patton spoke up stepping forward, startling me. I’d kind of forgotten he was there. I was really not on my game with being vigilant today.

“I won’t report you either. It’d be a little hypocritical of me if I did,” He smiled, shooting a quick glance to Logan. I wanted to ask him to elaborate on that last part but decided against it. I was pretty sure I got the hint, and again, it wasn’t really my business anyway.

“And I know that I haven’t known you nearly as long as Logan, but I’d like to be your friend as well if you’d like,” Patton continued, shooting me a beaming smile. I returned his smile hesitantly, though mine wasn’t nearly as big or bright. I don’t think I could fully comprehend what was happening right now. This was certainly not how I thought things would be going. Just a few minutes ago, I’d been getting ready to say goodbye to Roman forever.

“Ok, um, we—we can be friends, if, uh, you really want to,” I nodded, snorting as Patton bounced in place a bit and nodded happily. He was always so excitable, I couldn’t help but grin.

“You—You really won’t report us?” Roman assured, arms tightening around me slightly, “Either of you?”

“Of course not, My Prince,” Logan confirmed.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Your Highness,” Patton chimed in.

“Please, just Roman is fine.”

Patton grinned at him and nodded, while Logan just raised an eyebrow.

“Alright then, now that that’s been settled, may I ask what you two are doing in the clinic in the first place? Is something wrong?” Logan inquired, studying the two of us.

“Oh, that’s right. It’s a bit risky to be cuddling out in the open like this, even if it was pawsitively adorable,”—Patton giggled at his own pun— “Wouldn’t it be safer in your room, Roman? Or somewhere hidden?”

“Ah, well—” I glanced back at Roman and at his reluctant nod, began explaining.

“Princey, er, Roman sneaked off to take part in stopping the raid on the nearby town and came back with a stab wound. He wouldn’t let me take him to you, Lo, trust me I tried,” I grumbled, taking a second to glare at Roman which he promptly ignored, “so, I tried to tend to it myself. I, uh, I guess I didn’t do very well. It got infected. Then I tried to fix it, but when I went to check on him this morning it was even worse, and he had a fever and ended up passing out. I managed to get him here and tried the best I could with mending it an everything, but uh, if you could take a look…”

Logan nodded at my request, and I scrambled out of Roman’s lap as he bent down to pull up his shirt. He quickly undid the bandages I’d wrapped and started examining it, asking what medications and ointments I’d used as he went.

“Well, you’ve done a remarkable job at cleaning the infection as far as I can tell. You gave him all the correct medicines and ointments as well. The stitching is also very well done. Keep in mind, Virgil, that the infection may not have been caused by you or by improper care. It could be internal body bacteria, or the fact that you did the stitches in an unsterilized environment under what sounds like not ideal conditions. All things considered, you did everything right,” Logan commended before leaning back and turning to address both me and Roman. I felt the knot in my chest lessen even more at his words even as I blushed at the praise.

“All you can do now is monitor the infection and keep it clean and dry and change the bandages often. Also be sure to avoid scratching at the stitches. They may begin to itch, especially because of the infection. I’d recommend avoiding heavy physical labor that could stretch or break the stitches as well. If you need an excuse, come find me and I’ll be more than happy to write you a note or talk to your father myself. You’ve suffered a very bad fever after all, even collapsing from it. I’m sure I could convince him you need bedrest,” he instructed, smiling softly at both of us. I blinked at him, pretty sure I’d never seen him smile so genuinely before. Huh. Today was full of surprises.

“Oh, also, take these pills for the next week, your Highness. Your fever seems to have gone down quite a bit, and I’d like to keep it that way. I’ll have Virgil keep up with your infection as he’s done an excellent job already and I’m sure you’d both prefer that.”

“Thank you, Logan,” Roman nodded, returning Logan’s smile and taking the pills that he offered.

“And I’ve told you a million times to just call me Roman.” He added with a huff.

“And I’ve told you a million times that it’s unprofessional to address you as such,” Logan tsked, sighing as he quickly re-bandaged his wound.

“Well then don’t do it as a professional do it as a friend,” Roman shot back, making Logan pause. He slowly finished up the bandages before taking a step back and raising an eyebrow

“A friend?” he questioned, crossing his arms.

“Yes. I believe this could be the start of a great friendship, the four of us. Don’t you guys think? Besides I’ve known you for years, Logan. Plus, I’m well acquainted with Patton already, though we’ve never gotten to spend much one-on-one time together. And Virgil, well, of course, uh, you know…” Roman cleared his throat blushing a bit. “Um, anyway, it’ll be nice, don’t you think? We can all just be here and exist together. No need for formalities or regard for social status or any of that. We can all relax and be ourselves.”

Logan took a minute to think it over before sighing and nodding softly.

“I—I suppose that’s acceptable,” he agreed, “You seem to constantly land yourself in my clinic anyway; so, it’s not as if I don’t get enough of you. It would be…nice to be friends.”

“Yay! New friends! I need you to know that I already love all of you so much,” Patton cheered as Roman stuck his tongue out at Logan.

“I think you just love everyone, Patton,” I couldn’t help but snort.

“Well, maybe, but you guys are special. I can’t wait to get to know you all more,” he replied, looking fondly at Roman and Logan who were now arguing about who-knows-what.

“Yeah,” I chuckled, rolling my eyes as Roman dramatically gasped and put a hand to his chest, “Me either, Pat.” Me either

[smokingcaterpillar]

King of Hearts ♥️♣️♦️♠️

Idk why I’m nervous to post this lol maybe because this is a more personal UPG experience with me and Loki. This might be a tad lengthy btw.

I know this is something I don't have to share, but lately I've been reflecting on it and realize just how much of a difference Loki has made within this semi-traumatic situation I’ve dealt with most of my life. So I want to share this beautiful thing. Beautiful to me anyway. And through several different methods of divination, he's assured me he's okay with me doing so ♥️

TW: mentions of heart surgery, hospitals, panic attacks

When I was a kid my father had multiple bypass heart surgery and valve replacement, and has been in and out of the hospital ever since for various reasons including heart stuff. To put it simply: over the years, I had developed a strong aversion to heartbeats. For example, if I gave someone a hug or was in someone’s arms with my head resting on their chest, I hated- absolutely hated -hearing their heart. Or even when I put in ear plugs and could hear my own. I had it in my head that I would suddenly hear it stop. A fear that stemmed from being able to hear my father’s artificial valve tick within his chest just by standing next to him, as well as hearing the beeping of hospital machines monitoring his vitals, fearing I would suddenly hear the ticking and beeps no more. I never told anybody this, probably because I thought I might offend someone. Like, “Here let me adjust my position against you, I don’t wanna hear your heart, sorry.” sounded a little harsh to me 😂 so I never said anything. I was probably worrying about that more than I needed to tbh.

Fast forward to the past couple years. Something I didn’t expect to happen at all 🫠

Loki, being clever without even trying, ever so slowly began showing me a new perspective on heartbeats.

Not long after He came into my life, I learned about the tale of Loki eating the heart of Gullveig, and subsequently would notice other devotees associating beautiful artworks of anatomical hearts with him as well. And I simply thought, “Awe, that’s nice.” And nothing more. Lol, since then I’ve joked with him sometimes that he surely is a vampire, which I feel he secretly enjoys 🤭

Then came the tale of how Loki (as Vé) may have contributed in human creation by giving “..color to the human complexion.” Blood. And my perspective shifted more, even softened a bit.

It wasn’t until six months ago that Loki began showing how fond he was of heartbeats (again, UPG of my aspect of him).

There were many different ways in which he showed his love of hearts; the sound, the feeling, its power, its effects, and yes, even its fragility- the part that I feared most. I won’t go into detail about how those walls of fear came down brick by brick, as most of them were in private moments of various forms of affection…but I will say that my eyes now do soften at the mention of hearts. And at the sound of them. Something I never thought would become untainted. Because He was in all of it. I can now see hearts through his eyes. And no longer do they appear to me as a frightening, scheming creature inside of our bodies waiting to carry out our demise. I am so grateful and joyous for that ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 I still hear my father’s valve tick when I’m next to him and it’s quiet enough; I'm still prone to panic attacks where my bpm goes to 150 for fifteen minutes to an hour, I'm still prone to PVCs when I lose too much potassium or haven't slept well- all of which are now few and far between -but the feelings of dread and paranoia that plague me for days after something like that happens has finally tapered off. Replaced with fascination and appreciation for this muscle that keeps me alive.

God of Transformations, my King of Hearts, thank you for your patience in allowing me to see a dark part of my mind flash with vibrancy like a gem in the light. It took nearly thirty years, but we're here ✨🫀

Artist profile: rybrig on DeviantArt

[droughtofapathy]

I'm too lazy to get my phone out and scroll through emojis, which I know you'll appreciate. "what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?" "share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on" "what's the fastest way to become your mutual?"

And because I know this is going to cause internal bleeding: "give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing"

Thank ya, love.

Oh thank god, I don't have to go scrolling back to find the post. Big fan of no-emoji asks.

"what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?" Essays. I'm lucky enough to have many beloved mutuals who will show up on the doorstep of my works with lengthy analysis, discussion, and favorite lines all ready to go. I'm a writer who wants to discuss the work in intimate detail, so these comments are like catnip to me.

"share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on" Stop giving a fuck. Do what you want and what you like and to hell with what others are doing or thinking. Having confidence in yourself is the easiest way to deal with problems. I have always been an extremely confident person, but as a kid I still had a lot of stress and anxiety, and though even at such a tender age, I was still doing what I wanted, I was also doing it with a lot more neurotic energy. I had panic attacks semi-frequently, but (and this is really bad advice from a professional mental health perspective because I'm realizing how trivializing it sounds) I got rid of all the stress and anxiety and neuroses by just...not having them. It sounds absurd, but I'm living the high life with none of the mental health issues so many of my friends have because I just decided to stop being anxious and stressed all the time, and more importantly, I'm so fucking sure of myself. This is not something most people are able to do. Proper treatment is important: I just... didn't need it. I looked at all those reasons I was stressed and upset and just said "who cares? So what? What's the worst that could happen and what am I actually going to do about it if it does? Nothing matters. I'm fantastic. So why am I wasting my time and energy being so worked up about everything?" And that's kind of just how I live my life. Nothing matters, things happen, life goes on. I know I'm a fucking delight. (And yeah, it's probably really aggravating to hear someone just say stop having anxiety, because it's not that simple. But it was for me.

So that's my advice: be confident. Be apathetic. I'm sure of what I think and what I do. Have trust in yourself. Just do whatever it is that you need or want to do.

"what's the fastest way to become your mutual?" Barrel into my DMs with lengthy rants/discussions at the ready. Talk to me about my writing or the theatre. I'm actually not great at fast-tracking mutuals. I know all of my current beloved mutuals can attest to the fact that it did take time for me to follow back. Just stick with me. I'll get there eventually if I like what's on your blog and I connect with you personally.

"give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing" Me talking to myself: Jesus fucking Christ, why won't you take some goddamn time to edit your work? Would it kill you to take a breather in between finishing the last sentence and putting it up on the archive with barely a cursory reread for typos (especially given how they keep slipping by anyway)? Why must you be so stubborn? It's not admitting incompetence by doing a second draft. Try it out sometime and see what happens. You might even like it.

(Unfortunately, I am cursed with a staggering amount of confidence--bordering on arrogance--and my first drafts are pretty damn fantastic. I never had to try very hard to get top marks for school essays, so I was stuck in this no-edit lifestyle from an early age and just never bothered to get out. It's working for me.)

[bloompompom]

Why We Ended Things - Chapter 7

Want to start from the beginning? Click here!

You didn’t know it then but ending your relationship was the easy part. It was pretending that your feelings had ended along with it that was much harder.

You were the newest act at Wicked Sisters: a fresh-faced girl on her way to becoming the city’s star burlesque dancer. It sounded like a dream, but really, you just liked that it paid the bills.

It didn’t take long for you to settle into your role, make friends, and even fall in love—a lot. But two years later, you found yourself stumbling through life, left with no other choice but to look back and try to pinpoint where it first went wrong.

♡ Pairing: eren jaeger x female reader, levi ackerman x female reader ♡ Word count: ~6.8k ♡ Content warnings throughout this fic: Explicit sexual content, explicit language, drug/alcohol use, unhealthy coping mechanisms, boss/employee relationship, panic attacks, codependency.

Chapter 7: Wingwoman

“Max!”

You tore your eyes from your reflection to follow the voice. Connie poked out from the wall behind your vanity. This was how you saw him most of the time—nothing more than a floating head. Except now, he lost the usual dopey smile he sported. That couldn’t be good.

You gave him your full attention, even going as far as to set down your eyeliner pencil as he told you, “Levi wants you.”

You tossed your head back with a lengthy, guttural groan. Connie laughed apathetically until you finally looked at him again. After that unnerving conversation with Erwin, you were dreading what else could happen next. You asked, “Did he say why?”

“Nah.” Connie thrummed his fingers against the wall, as if he was trying to find something of use to say. He merely settled on, “Well… good luck.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He offered a sharp nod before retreating back behind the wall. You faced your reflection once more. There was a new deadpan look in your eye, only one of which had been lined with black. You figured if Levi couldn’t even come and find you himself, then he could certainly wait another handful of minutes.

You weren’t even supposed to be here right now; you had only come in to pick up your paycheck. Wicked Sisters was still old-school like that. No such thing as a direct deposit here. But that aside, you had also left your makeup bag behind last night. And since Historia was hauling you to a party later, kicking and screaming, you might as well fix yourself up.

She had begged and begged for what seemed like hours until you finally gave in. In reality, it was probably only ten minutes. You could only handle that whiny voice of hers for so long. She apparently needed you to play the role of wingwoman, in hopes that would help her get with Ymir. How, one might ask? No clue. You fought her on the matter because it was Ymir, highly doubting that your presence would make anything better because it was fucking Ymir.

Once you had deemed your makeup, at the very least, presentable, you slowly made your way over to Levi’s office. It was even farther tucked away than the musty couch, and you squeezed through a few narrow hallways before you reached the door. It was shut, giving you a spare moment to suck in a few deep breaths.

You weren’t sure what had you worked up, but whatever was coming, you knew you just had to grit and bear it. By now, you were a professional tongue-biter around Levi.

You knocked your knuckles against the door, then you heard Levi faintly ushering you to come in. When you did, you found him seated at his desk, appearing to be occupied with nothing in particular. Unabashedly, you weren’t above admitting it felt nice to see him at your beck and call for once.

The space was cramped. Dark, too. By the look of it, it must have been an oversized broom closer that had been converted into this lousy excuse for an office. Still, it was strikingly neat. Almost to an intimidating degree, like no one had ever used it. You wouldn’t expect any less from Levi, though.

You cautiously closed the door behind you. In case you were on his shit list, you wanted to muffle the sounds of him reaming you out as much as possible. You had used the walk over here to create a mental list of every mistake you had made over the last week (there were quite a few), but when you finally met his gaze, he didn’t look all that upset. For now, at least.

Levi rolled his chair closer to his desk, then folded his hands together. “Erwin told me you didn’t take him up on the offer.”

So that was how it was going to be. He wasn’t going to try and sugarcoat it as Erwin did; Levi just went ahead and said it flat-out. They were offering you the prime, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to have Eren fired. As if they needed your permission to go ahead with it.

Well, maybe your permission was needed. After all, Eren hadn’t once given them a single reason to fire him. Was blaming it on the breakup enough for Erwin and Levi? What do you think they would call it—creating a hostile work environment? Ha-ha.

“What? I don’t even get a ‘hello?’” You carried your voice in a lighthearted way in hopes that he might crack, but he merely shot you the same look he always did whenever you said something stupid. You sighed before you said, “I can’t do that to Eren.”

“How considerate,” Levi said, but it certainly wasn’t praise. It made you feel like he was able to steal another glimpse of you. He could see that you were soft.

You breathed harshly through your nose, nothing more than a soft grunt because you couldn’t outrightly say, ‘Yeah, right,’ and roll your eyes at him.

His expression was tricky to place. You couldn’t sense if he wanted the conversation to end there or not. If you squinted hard enough, it sort of looked like he had more to say. Either way, you weren’t up for hearing it.

You watched him while he watched you. It was the classic game of predator versus prey—which one was which, you didn’t know, but you could take a hot guess that you weren’t the predator. Levi leaned back into his chair, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his desk drawer. Owner privilege.

He flicked his lighter until the end of the cigarette caught flame. He glanced over at you, eyes tracing over you just once. “You know you can sit, right?”

“I didn’t think I’d be here that long,” you said. You continued to shuffle your weight between your feet. “Is there more to talk about?”

“Is friendly conversation too great of an ask?”

A disbelieving laugh slipped past you. “You want to have a friendly conversation with me?”

He quirked a brow. It was the first time his stoic face had moved since you first saw him. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

You took a few steps and then sat in the chair just before his desk. “Frankly, I am.”

“I told you I’d fire my best bartender for you, and you’re surprised I like to talk to you?”

There it was.

You must have made some kind of face because Levi made a ‘tsk’ before snickering, “Lighten up.” He ashed his cigarette in the fanciest ashtray you had ever seen. It looked like someone had handblown the glass. “I should have said my only bartender. Connie hardly counts.”

That made you chuckle. You were sure that was why he said it, considering he did just ask you to lighten up. For what it was worth, you wanted to lighten up, too. You couldn’t figure out what had you all tense in the shoulders, whether it was the levity in which he spoke of Eren’s job, or the fact that you still couldn’t stop thinking about him in ways you shouldn’t think about your employer. Talk about a walking HR nightmare.

“Are you feeling any better since the last time I saw you?” Levi asked, smoke pouring from his nostrils.

The last time he saw you, you were sulking in the alley. So obviously and pathetically sad that even he had to give you his own version of a pep talk. You could even imagine the little rain cloud that hung over you, drizzling on your head.

You gave him a vague shrug. “Sure.”

“Heard it’s amicable,” he said. You really wished they would stop talking about you. “It didn’t seem like it that night.”

“We’re working it out,” you said, even though you were positive Erwin had told him you said that already, too.

Levi hummed thoughtfully, twisting his wrist around to inspect what remained of his cigarette. After a second had passed, his eyes flickered up to you next. He wore a look that finally established your role. You were his prey.

He stood up before leisurely walking around his desk. You could hear every click of his shoes against the wooden floorboards. He stopped once he was in front of you, then sat back until he was on the edge of his desk. His legs were spread, his hand just between, with his fingers locked together as if he were about to sign a business deal with you. His eyes were still on you—you could see that very clearly—but you could feel them on you just as deeply.

His cigarette now hung from the corner of his mouth. He continued to puff on it as he asked, “You don’t smoke, right?”

Another half-shrug from you. “Only on rare occasions.”

Levi leaned forward. Your seat was already impossibly close to his desk, and he nearly sealed the gap between you. He took his cigarette with two of his nimble fingers and held it like a joint. He brought it toward your face, giving you a look like he wanted something from you. He wanted you to open your mouth for him. You parted your lips only slightly — and without thought. It was enough for him to slip the cigarette into place. God, it felt like you were frozen. The feeling in your face returned just in time for you to clasp your lips around the cigarette.

He then awarded you with the hint of a smirk that had been on your mind all day.

“Don’t have the time to finish it,” he said. He slid from his desk, not even sparing a passing glance before he left.

What the actual fuck.

You blinked once. Then twice. The only thing that yanked you from your stupor was the sound of the door shutting behind him. Click. Left alone in his office, you picked the cigarette from your mouth, the paper peeling from your dry lips, and you reached to put it out in that work-of-art ashtray of his.

Just as before, you pulled in a few long breaths until it had steadied out. If these cryptic conversations were going to keep happening, then you needed to get your hands on some blood pressure medicine before you died of a heart attack one of these days.

You didn’t want to be in there for any longer than you had to be, so you quickly stood from the chair and pushed your way past the door. It smacked into something—or someone—and you heard an ‘ow’ on the other side.

You closed the door only to reveal Connie, standing just behind it. His hand flung to his nose and he rubbed the bridge gingerly. Nosy son of a bitch (no pun intended, of course).

“I saw Levi head out. Figured I’d stick around to see if you made it out alive.” His face was still scrunched into a wince and he spoke haphazardly, like he had to explain himself to you. Honestly, the look you wore had probably scared him half to death.

“Alive and well,” you said, even though it still felt like your heart was pumping at a hundred miles an hour.

His big eyes inspected you as his hand gestured over you. “You look all nervous and sweaty. Did you and Levi just get done boning?”

Now you were finally free to roll your eyes and say, “Yeah, right. He’s gay, if you didn’t know.”

“Levi’s not gay. He’s bi,” Connie said matter-of-factly. He mockingly crossed his arms over his chest. “Close-minded much?”

“How do you even know that?”

“I know everything.” He wiggled his fingers around like he was trying to cast a spell on you. “Just like I know Eren slept over at your apartment the other night.”

You felt your face slump with annoyance. “Nice try. Eren told me you gave him a ride. By the way, can you stop doing that?”

“Depends.” He gave you a grin, one that could almost be described as shit-eating. “Do you pay more than him?”

“How much did he give you?”

He paused before shamefully admitting, “A Chipotle gift card.”

“You really sold me out for a burrito, huh?”

“Not even! He lied! It only had five bucks left on it,” he scoffed. When your brow furrowed, Connie quickly realized the implication—that he would sell you out for even less than a burrito. He screwed his lips shut.

You let out your millionth sigh of the night. “Just knock it off, would ya?”

“Sorry.” He hung his head.

You wished you felt guilty for scolding him, but the puppy-dog eyes he was showing you did absolutely nothing. Your thoughts were reeling and racing somewhere between anger, exasperation, and utter confusion. While you had the fight in you to grill him, not only for dropping Eren off at your apartment but also likely being the one that told Levi you had stopped by, you couldn’t. Your brain had short-circuited trying to make any sense of your talk with Levi.

After your therapy session with Hitch, her advice to fuck someone turned into a formal request. She even scrapped together a prescription for a ‘dick appointment’ on a Post-it note to make it all the more official. So maybe it was because the thought was fresh on your mind, or maybe it was because it had been months since you had last gotten laid, but you couldn’t help but think Levi was it. The man the legends had foretold. He could be your hair of the dog—a bloody mary downed in one gulp just to get you over this God-awful hangover.

The thought still lingered by the time you arrived at Historia’s. You tried to shrug it off, but it was hard. You had become fully fixated. This was normally something you would keep to yourself, at least, it was something you wouldn’t share with Historia. You never really liked to share the gritty details of your love life with her—if it wasn’t evident already, she tended to be a bit judgy. But you couldn’t hold it in this time.

The very second you barged through the door and into her pretty, pearlescent apartment, you started to dump. And you dumped everything. It felt like every thought you had over the course of the day was spilling from you. About Eren. About Levi. All of it. It just kept coming like a firehose. A flood that even the greatest dam on Earth couldn’t slow.

It must have stunned her, too, because she didn’t hesitate to run to her refrigerator to fetch a brand-new bottle of wine for you. White. The one with the gaudy label that she knew you liked. She poured into the glass until it was nearly full, like any good friend would, then slid it across the counter to you. You chugged it like it was an ice-cold glass of water after a marathon race. You even topped it off with a satisfied ‘ah’ and wiped the back of your hand along your mouth.

Her concern didn’t last long. Once you had finally ceased your word vomiting, she came at you with a stern expression before helping to clean up the mess. “You absolutely cannot sleep with Levi.”

She had a point, but you knew that already. Levi was the forbidden fruit; the apple put on this planet just to tempt sweet, little Eve. That is, if you could even draw the comparison—or if you could even compare Levi to an apple. The only similarity between the two was their shared crunchiness. But now you were getting lost in the weeds, thinking of your boss as a piece of fruit.

You flopped your arms out on the counter in front of you. “I know that,” you said, but you hastily added, “But you definitely think he’s trying to, right?”

You desperately needed any sort of validation you could get because, right now, you felt insane. But Historia only offered you a suspicious glance as she said, “I think you’re overthinking it.”

“Well, I know one thing that always helps with that.” You nudged your empty wine glass in her direction with a quick wag of your brows.

She was reluctant but she filled the glass anyway. Only halfway, this time. “I’m only doing this because you need to lighten up before we leave.”

Lighten up. That was what Levi told you to do, too. Why did you have to keep thinking of him?

You dropped your head to the counter, your forehead meeting the marble with a proper smack. Your shoulders shook with a fake cry as you continued to complain about going to this dumb party in the first place. All you wanted to do was hide away inside Historia’s luxury apartment and feel sorry for yourself and your gluttony for men you couldn’t (shouldn’t?) have.

“None of that,” Historia said as she flicked the top of your head. “You’re going to ruin your eyeliner. Which looks great, by the way.”

You replied with a muffled and half-assed, “Thanks.”

By the next hour, you were walking through the front door of some girl’s house. The scent of weed was nearly intoxicating and some 90s grunge thumped throughout the house. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought you walked onto the set for a Nirvana music video. It was a bit much, to say the least.

Anyway, Historia said she had been here before. That surprised you because it didn’t seem like her scene, but you went ahead and followed behind her. You pushed past shoulders and through the disgusting heat of bodies until you were spat out into the kitchen. You poked around until you determined the only thing left to drink was beer, nicely warmed from sitting on the counter all night. Not your first choice, but Historia still handed you one, knowing you would drink just about anything. She was right, and you cracked it open to take a sip.

“I want to find Ymir. Come with me,” Historia said, her eyes all glittery. She cupped her hands around yours. They felt clammy from the sweltering heat, but yours probably were, too.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” you asked. “I think you’re forgetting she hates my guts.”

“Yeah but that’ll make the perfect opportunity for you to leave us alone.”

“Wonderful,” you said flatly.

Hand in hand, you continued to trail behind Historia. You were already anticipating whatever creative insults Ymir would sling your way. What could it be this time? Another dig at your sex life—something about how you were too promiscuous? No, that would be too easy for her. She would probably go for something deeper. You hadn’t seen her since you broke up with Eren. That whole situation undoubtedly gave her more fodder. Your bet for tonight’s insult was on ‘cold-hearted bitch.’ A classic.

The next thing you knew, you were slammed against Historia’s back. She had stopped walking before you could notice, and you made an embarrassingly loud ‘oof’ as you nearly topped over her tiny frame.

“What was that about?” you asked. You peered around her, her eyes fixed across the room. “Is everything—”

You followed her line of sight as if there was a laser shooting from her eyes. Your attention flitted across the sea of people until you found just one person in particular. Two people, actually.

You would recognize that stature, how he carried himself, anywhere; you didn’t need anything more than a quick glimpse. It was Eren. He was smiling, big and flashy. The smile you liked. The one he would share with you often. But he wasn’t looking at you this time. He was talking to—laughing with—some chick you had never seen before. She was dressed in a denim jacket with red, bobbed hair dusting her shoulders. You couldn’t see her face but if you had to guess, she was probably gorgeous. Why else would he talk to her?

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” you muttered, just loud enough for Historia to hear.

She looked over at you, your jaw tensing by the second, before you tugged on her hand until you were both hidden behind a wall. She had nearly fallen on top of you, her shoulder colliding with your own. You didn’t mean to be so dramatic with it, but you couldn’t risk Eren seeing you.

But was that really it? Or was it that you couldn’t bear to look at him and the cute redhead anymore?

You turned toward Historia, faces just inches away, noses bumping, as you hissed, “You didn’t tell me he would be here.”

“I didn’t know!” she whispered harshly. “Do you really think I would do that to you?”

You thought about it and then mumbled a quick, “No.”

“Exactly.” Historia pushed herself off the wall that you had frantically shoved her up against. She brought her fingers to the bottom of your beer can and tipped it toward your mouth. “Drink.”

You obeyed and started to chug what remained. As you did, she said, “This is, like, the last thing I would have wanted—for you to be in a situation where you end up with him again.”

You choked when she said that. You tore the can from your lips and started to cough into your elbow.

So, about that whole ‘dumping’ thing earlier. You may have left out one teeny, little tidbit of information. You didn’t dare to tell Historia that Eren had shown up nine times at your apartment. And you definitely didn’t confess that you had let him stay the night nine times. She was judgy, remember?

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Fine,” you nodded, a little too enthusiastically. You weren’t selling it, so you continued to down the rest of your beer.

When you finished, you instantly felt all the liquid hit your stomach. You fought back the reaction to toss it back up. You burped loudly, and Historia looked at you with the grin of a proud mother. “Want another?”

“I don’t think so,” you said, physically unable to even think about drinking another lukewarm beer.

Her eyes were flashing between you and whatever was happening on the other side of the wall. She weakly smiled at you and said, “Did you still want to come with me to find Ymir?” You shook your head. How did she not realize you didn’t want to go in the first place? She then asked, “Will you be okay if I go?”

You shook your head again. She must have thought it was a joke because she laughed, but that was far from how you intended it. You gripped her hand harder but she only pulled it away. “There are plenty of people here. Maybe you can steal a page from Hitch’s book and find someone to hook up with. You know, someone that isn’t your ex or your boss.”

Very funny, you thought. For once, the thought didn’t sound so appealing. You were tired of hearing about this fabled man who, according to your friends, would be so wonderful of a lay that you would have to forget about Eren.

“Yeah,” you said, drawing out the syllable until your voice was feeble.

Historia left your side, and it only took a minute or two before you were approached. A lanky guy dressed in an ugly flannel shirt waddled his way over to you. Another one of those wannabes that Historia apparently loved to surround herself with for no other reason than it would get her closer to Ymir. You hated yourself for being so superficial but at least you weren’t saying it to his face. That would make you the judgy one, not Historia.

He offered you one of those lovely, room-temperature beers. You only accepted because you needed something to make this scenario even slightly appealing. Besides that, sipping was always a great fail-safe during awkward silences.

Then, for the next fifteen minutes, he told you about the microbrewery he was opening. Well, wanted to open. You went along with it only to realize the fantastic spot only existed in his head. But he assured you that it was going to be sick. Yeah, alright, buddy.

You could only handle so much conversation about the intricacies of hops before you blurted out that you needed to find a bathroom. You didn’t bother to finish the rest of your beer, only shoving it into his hand, before walking right past him. You could hear his confused, “I’ll see you around,” from behind you.

All of your emotions were nagging in your head, dragging their fingernails down the back of your skull as if it were a chalkboard. It made it impossible to think. You kept your head low as you swerved through the party, playing the guessing game of where the bathroom could possibly be. The thought crossed your mind to call an Uber home, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ditch Historia. At least, not yet.

You made it to the hallway before you bumped straight into someone—your second victim of the night. But this time, it wasn’t Historia. Your entire body tensed with humiliation, but then another shudder crashed over you when you heard a familiar chuckle through the ambient party sounds.

“Max?”

God, you were so tired of people calling your name. Nothing good ever followed.

It was Eren. Of course, it was Eren. Who else would it be? He was staring down at you, his face hard to decipher. His dark eyebrows sat low on his features, like he was trying to understand why you were here, but there was also a twitch of a smile, like seeing you was a welcomed surprise.

“Hey,” you said sheepishly, as if you had anything to be embarrassed about.

Your eyes drifted from him to the door beside you. Whether it was the bathroom or not, you didn’t know, but you gave it a try anyway. Anything to get you out of there. You jiggled the handle only to learn it was locked. From inside, someone shouted that it was occupied, so you slumped against the wall to wait it out.

Eren stayed with you, his eyes not leaving you once.

Yours, on the other hand, were shifty. You brought your attention to your hands, fiddling with your nails in hopes he would leave you alone. He didn’t. Instead, the poor fool decided to try and start a conversation.

“It’s a little weird that our roommates are hooking up now, don’t you think?” Eren asked. He even threw in a laugh to make it feel more comfortable.

It didn’t work. You replied, “I’m not living with Historia anymore.”

“No, I know that. Obviously. I just mean—”

He cut himself off like he didn’t want to talk anymore. You didn’t really want to talk to him, either. But nothing changed. The person was still hogging the bathroom, and you were still face to face with Eren, both of you unwavering in your stances. On the off chance that he needed to use the restroom, too, you decided not to shoo him away.

“You have something on your shirt,” Eren clumsily pointed out.

His hand came up and he took the fabric of your shirt between his fingers. He didn’t pause once. As he held it out, you saw a stain across your chest, most likely from the beer Historia had you chug and choke on. To think, you had listened to that guy blather for God knows how long, blissfully ignorant to the fact that you were wearing your beer. And you thought he was the idiot.

“Oh. Yeah,” you stammered, your eyes now hyperfocused on his hand. “Guess I do.”

Eren stood closer to you than before, close enough that you had to angle your head back to look at him. When you did, you watched his eyes flicker over your features, yours surely doing the same as you tried to pinpoint his expression. But before you could name it, his lips were on yours.

You didn’t move and neither did he. Only his fingers, twisting your shirt even tighter in his grasp, and you could feel how they shook. Before you could decide if you should kiss him back or not, he was pulling away, soft lips brushing past yours before he straightened up again. And while you were shocked by the turn of events, you found yourself missing his warmth.

“Fuck,” he exhaled. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You stayed quiet, opting only to tremble a nod. He immediately started apologizing. He must have thought he had ruined everything (as if it wasn’t already ruined enough). He could already see his late-night visits fading away, nothing more than a thing of the past.

You couldn’t hear a word he was saying. It sounded as if he was underwater. The only thing you could do was question why something as simple as a kiss had you on a downward spiral.

Where did this come from? Eren had spent the night at your apartment time after time, and not once did he make a move on you. Even when it was just the two of you. Even when he was at his drunkest. Was this just a moment of weakness? And if it was, was it your weakness or his? Maybe he had seen the look of defeat on your face, telling him that you were ripe and prime for the picking, and he seized his chance.

Neither of you had taken a step back. You were still standing closer together, far closer than you should have. You were bumping into one another, your fingers that would normally intertwine trying their very best to not. Without thinking, you took him by the shoulders and gave him a shake to shut him up.

“It’s fine!” you assured. It came out louder than you would have liked, so you decidedly soften the blow with a chuckle. “It happens. Right?”

You couldn’t tell if you were consoling Eren or yourself. Regardless, he nodded. It felt like neither of you knew what came next. You were still holding onto him, and you felt the way his muscles spasmed when you both realized it. You immediately released him, gluing your hands to your sides.

You didn’t get the chance to figure out what to do before a drunken asshole came barrelling down the hall. He took a few steps back when he saw the two of you blocking his path. You then recognized him as the beer guy from earlier. He must have chugged away his rejection woes because he could no longer stand upright without a hand planted on the wall.

“Yo! Didn’t think people would be tryna smash back here.” He pointed at you with a wobbly finger. “Hey, you’re that chick from earlier.” He looked at Eren and spoke as if you weren’t there. “Don’t even bother. The slut won’t put out anyway.”

The inconsistency in his narrative aside, you drew in a deep breath and figured it best to ignore him. You were already hot in the face, both from kissing Eren and the fear that came along with it. The last thing you needed was for you to be caught red-handed with your ex-boyfriend. And unfortunately for you, this imbecile was talking loud enough for everyone to hear, and you were silently praying that Historia and Ymir weren’t nearby.

Eren, on the other hand, wasn’t one to ignore a situation. He was more the type to put himself right in the middle. He slammed his forearm into the guy’s chest and he was pinned to the wall in an instant, his head bobbing against the drywall.

Eren spat, “Say that again and you’re fucking dead.”

It would be a lie to say you had never seen Eren like this before. There have been occasions—really, not that many—where Eren had given a guy a good beating for you. In his defense, it was always well-deserved. And kind of a turn-on, if you were going to be candid. After all, Eren was an intimidating man. Not so much in your eyes but in others. Especially the times like now, his hair down and wearing his jacket that made him look a bit bigger than he actually was. Little did everyone know, he had a heart as sweet as jam.

Sometimes it felt like you were the only person that knew that side of him. Well, Ymir knew it well, too. That was why she always treated him like her baby brother; someone that couldn’t take care of himself. She didn’t believe Eren had his head screwed on right and never trusted a single decision he made. To a certain extent, maybe she was right, but who could say besides Eren himself?

“Let go of him, would ya?” you commanded, like he was your pet dog. Down boy, down. You would think seeing a fight break out would get your heart race going, but now you were just tired of it.

It seemed that it was just your boss that could get your blood pumping that hard. Whoops.

Eren looked to you, back at the guy, then dropped him when it looked like he was about to piss his pants. Eren breezed by you, leaving you alone with the stranger, staring so wide-eyed that you could see the whites around his irises. You tried to think up something to say, whether it be a witty comeback or an apology, but only shrugged at him before chasing after Eren.

You trailed behind him as he walked. When you were at his side, you thought to ask him to keep the kiss between yourselves but based on his outburst, it was pretty clear he already knew that was the plan.

“I can handle myself, you know,” you said. It was meant to come off as a joke, but you let some sincerity slip through the cracks. Probably because the last thing you needed was for your ex to start murdering strangers for you.

Eren huffed through his nose—either a slight chuckle or something to brush you off. He was still seeing red. Every sign pointed for you not to poke the bear, but you were the one that knew him best; the person he would never dare threaten. And for some reason, you weren’t ready to say goodbye to him just yet.

That was your mistake.

Desperate for a topic of conversation, you didn’t think it over long before you asked, “So, who was that girl you were talking to?”

Shit, shit, shit.

“Girl?” Eren questioned. He finally glanced over at you after you had been tripping over your own feet to match his pace. He stopped, scrunched his face in thought, then let out a soft laugh when he realized what you were talking about. “Is someone jealous?”

“No,” you quickly said. “Just curious.”

He laughed again. “Well, I’d be lying if I said I remembered her name right now.”

“You were always quite the gentleman.”

You wanted to swallow the words the minute they left your throat. They were flirty. You were teasing him as if you didn’t have enough history behind you to fill a textbook. How effortlessly it came out scared you. And based on the look Eren was giving you, there wasn’t any doubt he heard it, too. His smile warmed, the corner of his lips curving like he wanted to play along. You didn’t hesitate to stop him in his tracks.

“Uh, well, you should probably go learn that name then, huh?” you stammered out with a robotic smile. “Have fun!”

With an awkward wave, you were hurrying off in the opposite direction and out of the immediate ten-foot radius around Eren. You wanted to hit yourself in the head for sounding so stupid. Did you really just give him the go-ahead to fuck that girl? It sure sounded like you did, and the thought of your seal of approval on the whole thing made your stomach curl.

When you finally found Historia again, your face and chest were hot and not in a good way. You were a puddle of shame, confusion, and left somehow needier than ever. You were glad you spotted Miss America from across the room before you had the chance to find Eren again and shove him into a lonely closet. God, just the thought made you feel pathetic.

Historia was with Ymir, obviously. They were off in the corner like a couple of loners. Quite the strange pair, too, with Ymir over a head taller than little Historia. Ymir’s narrowed eyes scoured over you, her thin lip curling with disgust. It was nothing new. You turned your attention to Historia and just the sight of you had her looking troubled.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Historia said. Her delicate hand reached out and held onto the sleeve of your jacket. Her attempt at offering a semblance of comfort.

You wished she had chosen her words more carefully. She knew Eren was here, she saw him first! And let’s face it, he was like a ghost—a ghost of ex-lover’s past, at least.

Ymir’s face twisted into a snarky grin. “Betcha she just saw Eren. Am I right?” She batted her hand like a cat’s paw. “Hopefully you kept your claws off him.”

Eyes sulking up at her, you grumbled, “Maybe you should go and ask him what happened.”

You laid it on heavy; the implication that something more happened. That was intentional on your part. You couldn’t resist getting under her skin, just a little.

Your plan worked, too, because you saw the way her jaw tightened, just like her clutch around her drink. She glanced at Historia, shooting her a look that was maybe her version of apologetic. She said, “I’ll be right back.”

Historia watched her storm off before whining, “Seriously? Did you really have to do this right now?”

“I didn’t do anything.” You slipped the cup from Historia’s hand because it looked like she had found something worth drinking. You took a sip, then said, “She started it.”

“You sound like a kid.” She snatched the cup back from you. “What did you do to Eren?”

“Nothing! He kissed me.”

“You kissed him?” she repeated, anger and disbelief swirling in her voice.

“Earth to Historia. Did you hear what I said? He kissed me. I didn’t do anything.”

She looked so mad, you swore you saw her eye twitch. All she could muster to say was, “You’re the worst.” With a pout on her still perfectly lined lips, she stomped through the crowd.

You followed right alongside her. “Me? You’re the one who dragged me here in hopes you could get fingerbanged by my arch-nemesis!”

“Fingerbanged? Nice one. And cut the crap with the arch-nemesis talk. You sound actually insane.”

You could tell she was racking her brain trying to think of more to say after you only replied with a mirthless snicker. Exasperated, she grunted before continuing her march to the front door. You questioned, “You’re not going to wait for her to come back?”

The thought crossed your mind to talk her into staying. Who were you to get in the way of her getting laid? But when your eyes cast over the room, there it was again. The same sight as before: Eren was with that redhead. You could see her face this time, and she was cute. Little, perky tits to match, too.

You stared for longer than you should. More obviously, too. But you were lost, wondering if she had approached him or if he went after her. How soon after you spoke with him did he go chasing after another? And what you hated more was the way her hand rested idly on his arm, and how whatever she had just said had him laughing again.

“On second thought,” you started to say. You peeled your eyes away from the trainwreck and looked at your friend. She returned the glance. Her eyes were like mirrors, reflecting back the sorrowful expression you undoubtedly wore. Whatever argument you were having didn’t seem to matter to either of you, and you placed your hand on her shoulder. “Let’s just get out of here. The music sucks anyway.”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[ashplayz]

(Short)

Treasure planet characters react to: accidentally hurting S/O in an argument and she runs and locks a door and the character begs her to let them in and her response is "... So you can hurt me again..?" (How I think they'd react at least)

Warnings: Pretty self explanatory- angst and fluff I guess..

Characters included: Captain Amelia, Dr. Delbert Doppler (separately, although I do love those two together) Jim Hawkins, John Silver (cyborg) (S/O goes by Y/n, she you and they)

Captain Amelia:

The beginning of the movie I thought she was a bit stuck up/uptight, full of herself so I think she would think y/n was just trying to make her feel bad so they could win the argument

and that she didn't actually hurt her

But when y/n says that she realizes and her heart SINKS she doesn't really know how to handle emotions well in my opinion (I envy those who can)

She wouldn't know what to do, she'd feel defeated and doesn't make another move towards you.

I think She'd probably make Jim talk to y/n for her and would keep her distance until y/n is comfortable, then grab y/ns hands and give her a very lengthy apology

She'd be rambling and would look stupid because you already forgave her 😂

Dr. Delbert Doppler:

Doesn'tt normally argue with you. (Personally I think he's a kiss up)

I don't think y/n would normally care because he's very clumsy and he's probably accidentally hit her before (like barely) when they're not even arguing, just a total accident.

But it was the way he flipped out about it is what scared her and why she ran and he already had teary eyes when she runs

(the only reason she'd say that is if she was having a panic attack)

but when she says that he just starts crying silently and just sits by the door and waits until she calms down.

I feel like once she calms down a few hours later she finally opens the door and sees him still by the door struggling to stay awake.

She'd ask him to cuddle and neither of them would talk until morning.

He'd probably try to make her favorite breakfast and would feel awful about what happened for the rest of the week

like days after it happens he keeps apologizing and she's just like "babe. I love you, but stop" 🤣

Jim Hawkins:

(I know he's literally the main character but I have no clue how to write him, still tried tho)

He wouldn't fully comprehend what just happened at first but once he does his hands start shaking.

He let out a sad apology then just leaves

He comes back to fix things after the cyborg guy (John Silver) gave him a pep talk

when she finally lets him hug her he starts crying and rambling Apologies while burying his face in the crook of her neck holding her tightly

I feel like he bottles a lot of things up so something tipping his emotions over the edge like this causes an overflow, you've never seen him look so fragile before.. 🥺

John Silver:

He's a big softy so the thought of hurting his S/O is his worst nightmare

The second it happens his eyes well up and he's like a deer In the headlights

when y/n tries to run he goes to grab her hand apologizing swearing to make it up to her but he scared her more

When she said that he just leaves her alone probably leaves for like 3 days

but when he comes back he has a

crap ton of treasure he stole jewelry/gems you name it just to make it up to her but she'd already forgiven him and was just really worried when he didn't come back

He'd definitely spoil his S/O on a regular day so something like this makes him go a bit overboard 🤏

(Just watched this movie for the first time and I'm bummed there's not a whole lot of fanfiction worthy characters, I considered doing Scroop (scorpion guy) but I'm pretty sure that character would genuinely be abusive so, No. I could have done the robot guy B. E. N, But I figured that might be awkward especially if it's before he got his brain pice back, it's really hard to envision him In a relationship as well unless she's also a robot, he is a sweetheart tho I really like his character..

Attention tumblr writers!!

Please make your own stories with this prompt: "accidentally hurting S/O in an argument and she runs and locks a door and the character begs her to let them in and her response is "... So you can hurt me again..?" Please somebody besides me let's make this prompt a thing! 🙏

[rukibur]

I’ve been thinking about tf2 and genshin impact lately and decided to assign some genshin characters tf2 mains, along with a few tf2 related headcanons

So here are some of my ideas in a pretty lengthy text post

Also note: some of these might be kinda ooc or like me accidentally misinterpreting someone. In which I am very sorry I haven’t touched genshin in a really long time D:

List is organized in who I think is the most accurate to least accurate

Alhaitham

- Sniper main

- Would be drawn to sniper’s simple playstyle. For the most part, all you need to play sniper is to be able to click on moving targets.

- No cosmetics, or strange weapons. Just stock and probably F2P.

- Doesn’t have in-game chat or voice chat on.

- Accidentally pubstomps and because he doesn’t talk in chat or have any hats, gets kicked for people believing he’s either a cheater or bot.

- Loadout: full stock

Cyno

- Scout main

- Would enjoy scout’s simple hit-and-run playstyle. A powerful—albeit fragile—mobile class, which basically allows him to run around the map and pick his fights.

- Probably has a full strange loadout, along with an unusual hat and australium scattergun that he adores. There probably a few taunts in his inventory as well.

- Can absolutely pubstomp games, and plays for a sixes team.

- Uses a minimal hud.

- Loadout: full stock, australium scattergun

Tighnari

- Medic main

- Would join a match, see that the team has zero medics, and decide to be that medic.

- Doesn’t really care for hats. Cyno has probably gifted him a few though.

- Plays the game casually for the most part. Sometimes subs in if Cyno’s medic player can’t play though.

- Uses an improved version of the default hud.

- Loadout: crusader’s crossbow, quick-fix, solemn-vow

Kaveh

- Engineer main

- Would enjoy engineer’s supportive playstyle, along with how he can be more aggressive if he needs to be.

- Has probably bought a hat or two, maybe even a taunt. Not much, but something he likes.

- Everytime his nest gets taken down or just any of his buildings get sapped and destroyed, a small piece of him dies inside.

- Has made his very own hud and uses it.

- Loadout: rescue ranger/panic attack, pistol/wrangler, wrench

Klee

- Pyro main

- As much as I wanted to say that she would be a demoman main, I just know deep down she would be a pyro main. Simple and easy to pick up playstyle, along with just me thinking she would really like pyro as a character.

- Had Kaeya buy her a lollichop. Happily wears her gibus and absolutely adores her rainblower that she got from a random drop.

- LOVES the pyroland effect. The first time she played with it she had the most fun, burning her enemies with literal rainbows.

- Like friendlies and joins them most of the time.

- Loadout: rainblower, scorch shot, lollichop

Childe / Tartaglia

- Demoman / Soldier main

- Considering how much he likes fighting, it probably shouldn’t be a surprise that he’d most likely main the classes that can dish out the most damage.

- Doesn’t really care for hats. But he probably had bought strange weapons just to track kills. Could buy an australium but finds them kind of gaudy.

- Plays in both highlander and sixes. Likes to mainly play in casual but sometimes joins on uncletopia.

- The classes he has the most trouble playing besides medic is spy.

- Has optimized has graphics in order to get as much fps as possible. To the point where if you just looked at his gameplay you could mistake him as a spy main.

- Soldier loadout: rocket launcher / original, gunboats, escape plan

- Demoman loadout: full stock

Itto

- Scout main

- Itto just found him cool and wanted to main him. That’s just it.

- F2P, and mostly relies on item drops and crafting to get new stuff. But he does get a lot of stuff from his friend (I wonder who that could be…)

- Leader of the Arataki Gang, an amateur sixes team.

- Plays on uncletopia to try and better his gameplay, but also enjoys playing in random community servers

- Loadout: scattergun, winger, holy mackerel

Hu Tao

- Spy main

- Mainly plays spy to do stuff like scaring engineers and backcap points.

- Has only spent money on taunts, like the boxtrot.

- Generally messes around on casual and community servers.

- One of her favorite things to do is spam voicelines around engineers to make them paranoid.

- Loadout: L’Etranger, Clock and dagger, Knife

Diluc

- Heavy main

- Honestly idk for this one. I wanted a heavy main and Diluc just kinda has the vibe.

- Bought a key and a crate and unboxed a hat. Doesn’t really care much for the economy, just likes playing the game.

- Has the absolute easiest time flanking as heavy. Doesn’t matter which map, apparently everyone he plays against plays the game on silent with no monitor because he can just walk into their backlines.

- Used to play highlander, but eventually lost interest and just plays casually. Can pubstomp if he wants to though.

- Loadout: Tomislav, sandvich, fists

Dori

- Spy main

- Doesn’t even really play the game, only there for the economy.

- Has a ton of unusual hats and taunts. Probably has a golden pan or two.

- Has been banned from a few trade servers for “scamming”.

[isfjmel-phleg]

A popular recreational pastime of letter-writers to comics back in the day was begging for crossovers. Readers of The Ray, for instance, wanted Ray to team up with Grant Emerson of Damage. The two boys had met during the Zero Hour event and exchanged some dialogue but otherwise hadn't gotten to work much together.

The editor of The Ray had this to say:

The team-up finally did happen in Damage #14, and sure enough, the boys did "not exactly hit it off."

One would think they would, though. They have a lot in common as far as circumstances go. But that's not enough. They happen to catch each other at particularly emotionally tense times in their personal lives, and the wildly different effects of their upbringings clash badly.

Story time!

Grant has made the mistake of releasing his "uncle," alter ego of supervillain Doctor Polaris, from prison and knows it's his responsibility to resolve this problem. He can't handle it alone, but he recently had a falling-out with his team, and no one is available to help him. The only other person he can think of who might is Ray. Grant doesn't have his contact information and can't afford to put out an ad in the paper (this is 1995), so he clears out trees in the forest in the shape of "RAY HELP" and waits for three days before Ray shows up.

Ray has just come from probably the worst week of his life, and he's none too pleased to have been summoned by Some Kid He Met Once. He's impatient with Grant, and when he hears that this is about Polaris, he flatly refuses to get involved. (He also neglects to overtly say that he too once released Polaris from prison and caused havoc.)

"What does this have to do with me?" he asks repeatedly. Note how he's drawn--powered up in his light/energy form, dark and severe and not quite human-looking--while Grant looks up at him and has more submissive body language.

It's also worth noting that in this issue we do not see Ray's unmasked face even once. Presenting himself as just some guy not much older than Grant would have equalized them and made him more approachable, but with Grant Ray prefers to situate himself as a sort of superior. It's not unlike how other heroes he works with (like his dad or Triumph) talk to him.

Grant begs and explains and finally gets through to Ray by an appeal to feeling responsible for a mistake gone horribly wrong. His strategy is to try to connect; he's still in the mindset of making friends in a new school, not making business connections, which is closer to how the JLA-experienced Ray is seeing this.

Grant's plan to get Polaris's attention involves...yeeting himself into an active volcano? On the way down he has a panic attack (or a PTSD flashback? or both?).

And Ray has to deal with the subsequent mess and hates every minute of it.

He's pretty annoyed with Grant, who goes into high alert mode at the first sign of someone being angry at him.

He tries to explain. He tries to apologize for the panic attack, like that was his fault. Ray's not listening and not particularly interested in helping Grant beyond the bare minimum at this point.

Bear in mind that Ray's previous chronological appearance before this issue involved him having to work a graveyard shift at the drive-through of his fast food job, and zoning out repeatedly with lengthy flashbacks to everything he's been going through recently. Not unlike Grant's moment of panic that took him back to fighting the monster that killed the girl he liked, but Ray's so preoccupied with his own concerns that he can't see anything else.

So Grant opts for a "freeze" strategy. He seems to think it's his job to manage Ray's anger. Not that Ray expects this of him, but Grant is falling back on a survival tactic from growing up in an abusive home.

Their efforts lead to a dead end. Grant makes himself annoying repeatedly asking Ray if he's upset, and Ray responds passive-aggressively. Neither of them are handling this well; conflict resolution isn't either's strong suit.

Grant reverts to freezing for a while before asking about their next steps to find Polaris.

Ray refuses to help any further and repeats that it has nothing to do with him. Besides, he says, he has his own problems, and Grant wouldn't understand. Grant asks for details, so Ray spills his current laundry list of troubles.

Grant has reached the limit of his efforts to be accommodating. He angrily points out how similar their situations are. Has Ray not been listening to a single thing he's been saying?

Ray changes the subject to what Grant's doing wrong and informs him that he's "kind of a whiner."

Grant insists he was just trying to be understanding. But at this point the boys are not speaking each other's language at all. Grant's temper flares, he's about to explode, and the boys nearly get into a fight.

They're interrupted. Ray leaves to pick up the narrative back in his own solo (in which he'll ask a friend for help and get coldly turned down...sound familiar?), and Grant will receive help from someone else as he continues his quest.

So why was this team-up an interpersonal failure? Well, neither of them have very effective people skills.

Grant had an ordinary upbringing on the surface, but not only was he deprived of stability and friends as a result of frequent moving, but his "parents" were also abusive. So he developed both a need to strategically people-please and poor control over his anger. Here he's trying too hard to be accommodating. At the same time, the accommodation is primarily a survival strategy, not so much an acknowledgment of how much he's inconveniencing someone he hardly knows. His readiness to resort to violence when all else fails demonstrates how out of control his emotions are.

Meanwhile, Ray was raised to believe a lie about himself and deprived of a normal childhood by being kept in total darkness with minimal social contact, but he was also fussed over a lot as the tabloid-famous "Night Boy." So he developed a tendency to hide from problems and wallow in self-pity. That's exactly where he is when Grant drags him into his chaos, and he is unable to get out of this mindset at a time when Grant needs his empathy. His response to being asked for help is dismissive and self-centered, the opposite of what he as a hero is supposed to be, and even when he does assist Grant, it's extremely begrudgingly.

This isn't who both of them are at their best. Grant can be healthily assertive and genuinely considerate. Ray can put aside his own struggles to come through for others who need his help. But in this time of great stress for both of them, they are falling back on old habits and meeting again as their less-than-ideal selves.

We never get to see them work so closely together again. They have encounters during Our Worlds at War and a big group event during Ray's time with Young Justice, and they are both on the Freedom Fighters during Infinite Crisis, when most of their team gets killed and they are the only survivors. But we barely see them interact on these occasions, and the team-up in Damage #14 is the only time we really get to see their personalities play off each other. A pity, since at a more opportune time they could have been able to connect. The both of them could use an understanding friend.

[screechthemighty]

Hello God of War enjoyers, Sindri enjoyers, and "Kratos being a good bro" enjoyers, I have returned with part 2/3! If you missed part one, you can check the tag "fic: the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin" on my blog OR you can check out the AO3 link in a reblog!

the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin: part 2/3

content warnings: depictions of OCD including anxiety spirals and compulsions; grief due to family loss; brief dissociation; major spoilers for ragnarok. (also sindri's coping methods aren't necessarily how you're supposed to deal with OCD, but therapy doesn't exist so he's working with what he's got here)

.

The wolves weren’t so bad, as it turned out. Speki and Svanna slept outside and pretty much left Sindri alone when Kratos told them to. Getting used to Mimir took less time than Sindri had expected. On top of that, Kratos was tidier than Sindri expected and he didn’t get visitors often. Mostly it was just Freya and Angrboda, both of whom gave him some space. It was peaceful out in the Wildwoods; for a few days, Sindri felt like he could breathe.

Then, of course, the thoughts of the house came creeping back. The house and the floorboards. The urge to go back and start scrubbing came. He tried to ignore it, distract himself until the thoughts went away, but it was only a temporary solution. The more it happened, the more his fear started turning to frustration.

I don’t want to live like this. I can’t live like this.

“I am this close to just replacing the fucking floors,” Sindri said one night over dinner. It was the first thing either of them had said; Kratos was back from some lengthy expedition to Vanaheim, and Sindri had spent most the day with one foot in a panic attack. That didn’t exactly make for sparkling dinner conversation. “I don’t want to look at them anymore.”

Kratos nodded contemplatively. It took him a minute to look up from his stew, as if he were digesting what Sindri had said along with the food. “We could do it.”

“Do what?”

“Replace the floors.”

He was being completely serious. And suddenly, the idea seemed like much less of a bitter joke.

.

Of course, it took Sindri barely any time to regret agreeing to it. Being back at the house set the fear and racing thoughts loose again, so badly that he froze in the doorway and couldn’t move. He was scared to turn around and look at Kratos. He couldn’t handle seeing that oh so he’s crazy-crazy look on the god’s face. “Uhm.” Sindri took a deep breath. “It’s. It’s fine. I can do this.”

No, he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry…”

“We still have to find suitable materials,” Kratos pointed out calmly. “If you remember what you used last time, we do not have to enter.”

Right. Yeah. “I think I do,” Sindri said. He tried to be businesslike about it. Right, yeah, of course, they’d have to source the materials for the sealant, talk to Ratatoskr about digging into the branch again, consider sourcing stone or wood or something and bringing it there. This is the logical next step. Definitely not avoiding anything. “I can figure it out.”

Kratos grunted and reached over Sindri’s head to close the door–slowly at first, then more definitively when Sindri didn’t try to stop him. “Come.”

SIndri didn’t feel like he could breathe again until they were back in the Wildwoods, but at least Kratos wasn’t looking at him like he was a lunatic.

.

Figuring out and gathering everything they’d need took longer than it had last time, probably because Kratos was constantly being dragged off to help with some problem or another. The delay had mixed results. Some days still brought the panic and racing thoughts; most of the time, though, Sindri knew that even those panicked moments were better than what he’d face when the floor did come up.

You’ll have to face it one day,

Maybe, but he was content to put that day off for a little while longer.

.

He finally saw Lúnda again during the material gathering process. Sindri knew it was unavoidable, but after last time, he wasn’t looking forward to the conversation.

“You, uh…” Lúnda sucked on her teeth and examined him carefully. “You get your head back on straight?”

Sindri laughed bitterly. “My head’s never been on straight,” he said. “Didn’t Brok tell you that?”

The scurrying of paw steps interrupted the conversation. Both wolves came running over–one with a ball in her mouth, the other desperately trying to steal it. Both froze a safe distance away when the ball hit the ground, their eyes fixing on Sindri. “Okay, okay…” Sindri unhooked a took from his belt–a modified scoop with a long handle–and used it to pick up the ball. “Do you guys ever get tired?”

Speki and Svanna’s eager whines answered the question. Sindri rolled his eyes and flung the ball. “Go on, get!”

And they were off again, nearly knocking each other over as they ran. “Smart,” Lúnda said.

“Yeah, you should see the distance Kratos gets with it.” Sindri slipped the tool back in place. “I’m not…delusional, all right? I just…” He couldn’t look at her as he spoke. “I get these thoughts in my head and if I don’t do something about them, they don’t go away. Even when I do, they don’t always go away for good.” They never did, really, but he was sure this already sounded bad and nonsensical. No sense in making it worse. “So I know. I know he’s gone.” Saying it still made him feel sick, but at least he could say it. “It was just…either the floors or I lose my mind.”

“...Wow. That sounds…”

“Hard? Terrifying? Yeah, welcome to my life. It’s not so bad now. I think I just needed to get out of that house.” He finally looked at her. Lúnda’s eyes were sympathetic, not confused or repulsed. He’d take that, but first… “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

Lúnda shrugged. “It’s all right. I’m just glad to see you doing a little better is all.”

Was he?

Sindri pondered it as the wolves raced back over. “Well.” He scooped the ball back up and threw it again. “I’m sure not doing worse.”

And that was definitely better than nothing.

.

The day finally came. They had everything they needed. All they had to do was start.

One small problem: Sindri couldn’t get through the door again.

He’d let Kratos in first this time, which was already wreaking havoc on his nerves. The war god had avoided the Spot so far without being asked, but…no, no, Sindri hated this. He hated all of it.

“We still have to move the furniture,” Kratos said. Then, a bit more forcefully, “Sindri.”

“Huh? What?”

“One chair.” Kratos’s tone was firm, but shockingly patient. “You can move it, or I can. Or we can go home.”

One chair. Just the one. He could do that, right?

“Uhm. Okay. Yeah, you…you can…” He swallowed nervously and gestured outside. “Y-yeah.”

Kratos nodded. He picked up the armchair from the corner, only moving it outside when Sindri didn’t object. He set the chair down. “How do you feel?”

“...scale of fine to worst day of my life? Uh.” Sindri glanced back inside the house. He couldn’t make his legs move. “Probably that time you were asking about Mimir’s eye?”

“Do you want to go home?”

“I…” Yes, but he also didn’t want to draw this out too long. “...one more? Let’s do one more.”

He could handle one more, right?

They got three chairs out before Sindri had to call it quits. No one was more surprised by that than he was.

Weirdly, even that small start made the return trip seem less terrifying.

.

By the time Kratos got all the big furniture out, Sindri’s panic hadn’t risen past mild discomfort. It’s not that bad, see? Don’t be a chickenshit.

He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Okay. Okay, don’t overthink it, just go. One thing at a time.

He kept moving, focusing on the list of smaller items that needed moving so they wouldn’t get dirty. One item. Then the next. Then the next.

Just don’t think! Brok told him that all the time. You thinkin’ so much, that’s the problem. You know what you’ve gotta do, so just do it.

It was never that simple for Sindri, but he tried. He really tried.

He was successful right up until he had to cross to the right side of the room. Near the Spot.

Be careful, don’t step on it, be careful, you’ll hurt him, be careful!

The panic got so bad, he ended up leaving the house. He stood outside and took deep, desperate breaths. Something about the air on the World Tree was…different. Crisp like mountain air, but not so thin. He tried to focus on that instead of his racing thoughts.

They stopped a lot faster this time.

See? Toldja. You think too damn much.

The sound of Kratos clearing his throat caught Sindri’s attention. “We can stop…”

“No,” Sindri blurted. “No, I can do it. I need to do this.”

“...hmm.” Did he look impressed? Was that an impressed look on his face? “Very well.”

Sindri took one last breath before going back in.

He still gave the spot a wide berth, but every item got moved. Sindri knew it was probably a bad idea to start believing in omens, but he really hoped that was a good one.

.

They started on the edges of the room and worked their way in.

Some days they made good progress. Some days, barely anything got done. It wasn’t always the irrational anxiety that slowed him, either. Sometimes it was grief. It’d hit him all over again, the sorrow and anger so fresh he felt like he might drown in them.

“I hate him,” Sindri said one day. He felt like a geyser with a pressure cap over it; his body wanted to cry, but for some reason he just couldn’t. “I hate him so much, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.” He’d smashed that stupid marble. Odin was gone. It just wasn’t enough. Maybe nothing would’ve been enough. “I don’t know what to do with it. It’s just…there now.”

Maybe that was why he’d been so angry at Kratos and Atreus after it happened. All that rage and nothing to do with it…it had to go somewhere. They were close by, easy targets, culpable in his eyes. If he couldn’t make Odin hurt, he could make them hurt.

Right. Because that’s fair.

Kratos hummed. His hands traced over the scars on his forearms. They didn’t seem so…stark as they had before. Sindri remembered how red and inflamed they could look over Fimbulwinter, seeming to re-open and heal at random. They hadn’t been that bad in months. “It will fade,” he said. “You can turn it into other things. Just…do not let it turn back on yourself.”

“Or anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me again.”

“I know.” Sindri stared out over the swirling voids above them. Sometimes they looked beautiful. Some days they just looked cold. He wasn’t sure what today was like. “Any word…?”

Kratos shook his head. “He has far to travel. The coming winter may slow him…” His voice trailed off. When Sindri glanced his way, the war god was staring down at his hands, his face hard to read again. He didn’t seem distressed, though.

“He will return,” Kratos finished finally, with that same quiet certainty he’d displayed before. “Do you think you can continue today?”

Sindri glanced back over his shoulder. The inside of the house looked cold, unwelcoming. “...no” he said finally. “No, I think I’m done for today.”

Kratos was right: he should channel all that anger into something else. Usually, it was the floor. He’d started easing back into smithing work, too, picking up projects late in the evening when he was sure he would be left alone. It helped, most of the time, but something told him that wouldn’t work today. The load was too much.

Time to go home and hope the next day would be better.

.

They dug up the Spot last.

Sindri insisted on burning the flooring. It was the best compromise he could think of: he couldn’t keep it there, but if he treated it as an extension of Brok by giving it a burial…it’d be gone, right? Nothing else to worry about. And it worked, in a way. His mind didn’t rebel against the idea the way it did stepping on the wood.

It also backfired spectacularly, because suddenly he was burying his brother for a second time. And somehow, it hurt more than the first.

He burned the pieces alone. He’d been worried he’d break down, and he wasn’t sure he wanted an audience for that. He didn’t, though. It wasn’t the numb feeling that had overtaken him at the first funeral. The world felt stretched out, thin, unreal. It was like his soul had come untethered, watching what happened from a distance.

How many times am I going to lose him?

Funny thing: he could imagine Brok’s response so clearly. Just the one time, you idiot. I ain’t gonna be more gone than I was before. It’s all in your head.

“Yes, dumbass,” Sindri muttered. The sound of his own voice drew him back, even if only a little. “That’s where your thoughts usually are.”

For a moment, the only sound was the crackling of the fire. Sindri closed his eyes and tried to focus on that sound. He just needed one thing to be real. Even if the realest thing was…

You’ll be all right.

He didn’t believe it, not really.

But if he imagined it in Brok’s voice, he could get close.

.

Fall turned to winter, one that seemed far less harsh after three years of cold.

He started going out into the world more. Worked alongside Lúnda. Did repairs for Kratos and Freya’s armor. He and Agrboda collaborated on a piece. She really was a talented artist. She seemed sure Atreus was safe, too. (Sindri felt like there was a story with them, but he decided not to pry. Not his place, not his business, though he was pretty sure he knew what was happening there.)

The floor slowly filled itself in. By the end of winter, only the Spot was left. And that was where the work stalled.

He spent more time in the house, even sleeping there some nights. He went longer and longer stretches of time without breaking down. But he couldn’t bring himself to finish.

It just didn’t feel like the right time.

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Come To Your Senses (Strange x Reader) - Chapter 1

Song Inspirations: Song 1; Song 2

Request?: YES (for @jamiethenerdymonster)

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k+

Warnings: MAJOR MULTIVERSE OF MADNESS SPOILERS!! Also infrequent language and some shaky usage of medical terms I probably don't understand (Note- TBI = Traumatic Brain Injury)

Summary: At Christine Palmer's wedding, you find yourself as the plus one of your friend -- the one and only Doctor Stephen Strange. It isn't long before you're in a rock and a hard place (quite literally) as you take a heavy blow and are incapacitated. Just when Stephen thinks things can't get any worse, enter Scarlet Witch and a teenager who can travel the multiverse. How does he handle this adventure of a lifetime?

You hated weddings, especially now. Now, it wasn’t to say you hated weddings after this particular ceremony. Although, given your current situation, no one would really blame you. For some reason, you had the genius idea to accompany your friend Stephen Strange to a wedding…

…his ex’s wedding, to be precise…

…the same ex-girlfriend that he had continued to pine over even after the invitation came in the mail.

Stephen hadn’t really been entirely sold on going to the event, if you were being honest with yourself. You weren’t even sure why you had pushed him to do this. Hell, you didn’t even know what made you offer to join him. Maybe you were just in the mood for free canapes. Or maybe there was just a promise of an open bar. 

You always loved ordering a James Bond-style martini while wearing your best “drop-dead-when-you-see-me” outfit. It made you feel like you were in the middle of the action, something you often failed to see as a nurse. In your career field, you often saw the aftermath of the catastrophes. You never had a chance to help in-the-moment. Just once you would have liked to feel like you were making a difference while something was happening, not just playing medical cleaning crews for Earth’s mightiest heroes.

A few hours into the day, you were kicking yourself for that wish. Apparently, a one-eyed monster had made it its personal mission to crash this wedding. Stephen had tried to get you to safety. He made a portal leading back to the Sanctum, but you refused. If there were people in the streets that were hurt, you needed to be able to help them – it was your duty. 

At one point, you had noticed a young girl within the midst of the fighting, climbing through the debris of a now otherwise demolished bus. When you tried to get to her in order to ensure she wasn’t injured, a flash of movement caught the corner of your eye. The creature was stretching out one of its lengthy tentacles and was heading right toward Stephen. You tried to warn him, but even if you were successful, it would still be too late. So you did the only thing you could think of:

You jumped in front of the arm just before it could attack him and were sent flying through the air. The last thing you remembered before the collision was Stephen shouting your name at the top of his lungs. Then the world faded to black. 

Yeah, this was totally the best decision you could have made in terms of how to spend your Saturday. 

=  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =

The amount of sheer panic Stephen felt when he saw your form be slammed into the concrete had escaped definition. He had tried to get to you right then and there, but was thrown about by another rogue tentacle- this time, it hadn’t missed its target. It had been some time until he had come to, thanks to the impatient material of the Cloak of Levitation. The first words that escaped his lips after his return to consciousness was your name. As he whipped his head around wildly, he noticed with faint relief you hadn’t been disturbed from your landing spot. 

However, before he could make his way over to you, there was a loud scream that startled him. The one-eyed monster had Wong in its clutches now. The elder sorcerer was helplessly swinging through the air as his weapon was embedded into another tentacle. Afraid to leave you alone and so vulnerable, Strange scanned the crowd until his eyes locked onto a young girl- the same girl which had brought big, fat, and one-eye into the streets. He pointed to your form on the ground and gestured to her. 

“See that person over there?” he pressed urgently. “Get them to safety. Now.”

She ran off to transport your unconscious body with a curt nod. Stephen and Wong (and the Cloak) fought against the intruder for a while. It had taken some time, but they had managed to skewer the monster’s only vulnerable point with a pole. The sight hadn’t been pleasant, but it had gotten the job done. Stephen didn’t take more than a moment to celebrate the victory before running off to find you. 

To his relief, he saw the girl had you propped against a wall behind a building. She also looked relieved to see him approach. “Not much has changed since I got us over here,” she remarked, gesturing to you. Stephen took that as an invitation to get closer to inspect you. 

You didn’t look to have broken many bones or lost an excess of blood. The outfit you had chosen especially for the wedding had been ripped in a variety of places. Stephen knew you’d be angry about that when you noticed it. You would definitely be feeling the after effects of the attack for weeks to come. There were a few cuts on your face from where your skin met pavement. Heart rate was normal, if anything but a little slower. 

You had been lucky…or so he thought. 

Stephen reached over and traced a shaky hand against your face. He called your name gently, as to not scare or startle you. When you didn’t respond, he raised his voice just a bit higher. Still nothing. Frowning, Stephen gently tapped the side of your face to rouse you from your slumber. He spoke your name again, only to be greeted with a silent response. 

“Wong!” he shouted across the street. “Hospital. Now!” In a panic, he looked up to the balcony to see Christine staring at him in horror. Stephen hated to have to do this, but your life was at stake here and he needed someone he could trust. “Please. I need your help.”

Stephen soon found himself pacing within the hospital waiting room. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of his battle robes. The minute he got confirmation from Christine that she’d help, he’d portaled you to Metro-General without a second thought. The Cloak of Levitation was anxious upon his shoulders while they waited for something- anything- to tell them what was going on and how you were doing. His senses were heightened at this point. Every step, every creak of a door, had him jumping to his feet and eyes scanning the room in a frenzy. Yet there was no one there to talk to him. 

“Stephen.” Forty-five minutes. That’s how long it took to see Christine walking out of the OR. It wasn’t even an hour, but to Stephen it felt like an eternity. He wanted- no, he needed- to know that you would be okay.

“What happened?” the sorcerer certainly didn’t waste any time to ask for an update on your condition.

“She’s stable,” Christine said with a nod. “We have her sedated to try and ease her back into consciousness. A few bone fractures, nothing incredibly severe. Which is…” She raised her eyebrows and shook her head in disbelief. “Pretty incredible given what happened. Um, there was minimal external blood loss. We’re pretty sure that she’s experienced a TBI. I mean, it would have been surprising if she didn’t sustain any brain injuries-”

“Christine.” Something about her tone had made Stephen uneasy. It was almost like she was hiding something from him. On any other day, he would have charted her nervous behaviour to the fact she was uncomfortable around him after their last meeting in the hospital. If it was a different situation, he could have even said it was because she was frustrated he ruined her wedding – entirely unintentional, of course. But now, after what they just witnessed. . .  “What aren’t you telling me?”

The brunette doctor before him cleared her throat and shifted her weight from leg to leg. “Stephen…” she started softly. “There’s swelling. A lot of it. With the amount of time it took to get her here from the street, there’s no telling if there’s been any damage and how much of it there really is.”

It felt like the world around him had frozen in time. Stephen never wanted this to happen, not to you. Not to the person he could always count on to be there for him. He loved seeing your bright smile, hearing your obnoxiously loud laugh at his horrible jokes, all of it. You weren’t a sorcerer, nor were you a witch, but you had your own special kind of magic. He couldn’t lose you. He wouldn’t lose you.

As if sensing his panic, Christine placed an awkward hand on his forearm. “There’s nothing you can do-”

“I could have done better.” God, he hated having to say that. It made him feel so weak. He was so used to always being in control of everything. For God’s sake, he helped save half of the universe after they were turned into dust. Granted, he lost out on five years of life, but shouldn’t that be in his favour? He’d been to too many funerals since coming back. Why couldn’t he have this one thing? Why did the universe have to toy with him like this?!

“Stephen.” Christine’s voice was firm – just as it was nearly seven years ago, when he had been too quick to fall into the rabbit hole of self-pity. “Trust me. You did what you could. Now let us do our jobs.” She tightened her grip on his forearm gently. “We’re going to keep her overnight for observation. Go home, find out what’s going on with that kid, yeah?”

“Tell me the minute something changes.” 

She nodded. “You got it, boss.” Christine turned around to head back to where you were in the recovery ward. “Although…” she called over her shoulder, “you owe me a hell of a wedding present now, Strange! I expect it tute suet! Oh, and find me something sweet, too!”

When Stephen had stepped foot back into the Sanctum, he just felt numb about the thought of losing you. His footsteps echoed throughout the halls as he searched for his companion. To his surprise, the building was empty save for a few Adepts who were visiting from Kamar-Taj. When he inquired where the Sorcerer Supreme had vanished off to, he was given an address of a nearby pizzeria. 

“You’re going to get a stomachache,” he remarked as he watched the jean-jacket-adorned teenager scarf down a few slices of pizza.

“I’m from a different universe.” The girl lifted another slice of pizza up in defiance. “How do you know my stomach works the same as yours?”

“I don’t. Just like I don’t know if you’re actually from another universe.” He frowned. “Look, I left a really nice wedding to save a smart-ass kid from getting eaten by an octopus. Now tell me-”

“Whose wedding?” Wong interrupted. 

Stephen paused mid-sentence, providing the sorcerer seated to his left with an unamused glance. “Christine’s.”

“You went? And you took her with you?!”

“Holy shit!” the girl dropped her pizza on the plate in front of her. “You married Christine?!”

“Yes.” Stephen nodded to Wong before turning his head back to the girl. “And no. What even is your name, kid?”

“America Chavez.”

=  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  = 

The last thing he anticipated to do that day was to have to defend Kamar-Taj from a grief-stricken Avenger. Stephen had tried to appeal to Wanda’s logical side, but got nowhere. He was about to give up, when he heard your voice in his head. Listen to your heart, you said. Get out of that big beautiful brain of yours and put some emotion into it. He knew you were right. 

“Your children,” Stephen spoke as he levitated in the air, “they wouldn’t want you to do this. They wouldn’t ask you to make the world suffer just to have them-”

“My children,” Wanda said simply, although there was an ounce of venom behind her tone, “are the most important thing in this world. They’ll understand. As far as your little friend is concerned…her sacrifice won’t be in vain.”

“Wanda. Please, just…just be reasonable. Haven’t we all lost enough?”

The Scarlet Witch slowly tilted her head to the side, eyes locked onto his own like a bird examining its prey from high above. “I think you’ll find what I’m doing is me being reasonable, Stephen,” she spoke. Her face went stoic and she nodded. “Besides, wouldn’t you want to spend more time being with your little girlfriend before it’s too late? If she dies, I could send you to a universe where the two of you are together and happy.”

 That got him to falter. It only took a single moment of hesitation for Wanda to seize her opportunity and attack. When Wong shouted at the sorcerers to fortify their minds, there was only one thing Stephen could think about: you. He focused on his favourite things about you. He thought about how much he enjoyed your company. Most importantly, he thought about how much you had changed his life. Ever since your paths crossed, he knew he wanted to be in your life. From the way you spouted trivia about some of the Beatles’ songs to the way you would blow pieces of hair out of your eyes when it drove you crazy, he couldn’t help but to smile at the thought of you by his side. 

“The entire might of Kamar Taj stands against you,” he said firmly.

When Wanda laid waste to the sanctuary, Stephen raced to protect America within its depths. As they waited in the dark, they made sure to block out any reflections in order to prevent Wanda from travelling into the room. The seconds stretched into hours and Stephen couldn’t help the anxious tapping of his foot against the slab-work tile on the floor. This soon led to pacing, which later caused him to collide with his friend. 

“You know, it is customary to address the Sorcerer Supreme with a bow,” Wong said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Sure it is,” Stephen tried to joke around, truly he did. The only thing his mind could focus on at the moment was you. He could feel the anxiety coursing through his veins while he waited for a call. It would be the only way he would know you would be okay – that you could come home to him. She isn’t yours, idiot, his mind shouted at him. Her home isn’t with you. 

“Are there any updates?” he asked instead.

Wong glanced down at the ground and instantly Stephen knew something had happened. His heart sank into his stomach and he was fighting the urge to throw up the singular slice of pizza he could hardly get down earlier. “I’m sorry, Stephen,” his friend said solemnly. “She’s…she has had a stroke. They are preparing her for emergency surgery as we speak.” Oh God, no. “Christine isn’t sure if she-”

America’s scream interrupted their discussion, both Stephen and Wong turning around just in time to see Wanda contort her body through the shiny surface of the gong. “She’s escaped the mirror dimension!” Stephen exclaimed as he moved to shelter the young multiversal traveller.

“Yeah, no shit, genius!” America shouted, moving behind Wong in an attempt to vanish from sight. 

Once again, Stephen tried to reason with the corrupted Avenger. There was just one problem: no matter what he said, thoughts of you drifted through his mind. He saw you in Wanda’s eyes when he asked about her plan. She looked almost…regretful, something that was all too familiar in your own features. He always wondered why you had that look. In the years you were friends, Stephen wanted to ask you what had made you that sad, but he never had the courage. In the back of his mind, he continued to hear your voice in his head. He really needed to stop that from happening. It affected his concentration. One minute he was fighting Wanda, the next he found himself flung against the ground…again. 

Stephen came to just in time to see Wanda- no, the Scarlet Witch- begin to extract America’s power from the young multiversal traveller. It was clear to see the girl wasn’t going down without a fight. There was a crack of thunder as a star-shaped portal appeared behind her.

Save her, your voice echoed in his head while he witnessed the Witch preparing for another attack. Save the girl, Stephen. Whatever it takes.

That’s when he flung himself in the direct line of fire for the blast and was sent reeling through the portal, America clutched in his arms. 

=  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  = 

Okay, maybe those three martinis weren’t the best idea on a mostly empty stomach, Stephen thought to himself as he watched the contents of his stomach empty into a garbage can. He wretched a few times more before standing up and wiping his lip. The Cloak of Levitation tried its best to help him, but any assistance was the last thing Stephen wanted.

“Hey,” he protested. “Cut it out.” The Cloak fluttered around his hold as he swung it around to inspect the damage. There was a decent sized burn mark in the middle of the material, presumably from the final attack at Kamar-Taj. It wasn’t irreparable, but it was still frustrating. 

With a final swish of Cloak back on his shoulders, Stephen turned his attention back to the matter at hand. “Okay America,” he said. “You have to open a portal and get us back there right now.”

“I don’t know how.”

Well, that certainly wasn’t the answer he was expecting. “You just did it.”

“Yeah, well, not on purpose!”  

“Wong is back there alone with Wanda, and I’m the only hope he has.”  

“I can’t control my powers!” America tried her best to explain, a small tinge of pink coated her cheeks in embarrassment. 

“You must be able to control it somehow!” He didn’t mean to snap, truly he didn’t. Stephen just couldn’t help it. With everything that had transpired in the last twelve hours, he just snapped. It was the truth when he told America that he needed to get back to help Wong, but he’d be kidding himself if he said you weren’t the first person to cross his mind for reasons to go back home. There was also the fact you were helpless in a hospital in the middle of a godforsaken surgery where he had no idea what was happening to you. Every instinct in his body was pushing to throw everything else out the window and never leave your side until you were healed. Yet Stephen knew there were more critical challenges at hand. “Even I could-”

Stephen! Even in his blind fury, the sorcerer couldn’t argue with your voice. He closed his eyes briefly to cling to the sound of your teasing tone. You need to be patient. Not everything can be done right away and you can’t force things to speed up. We’re not all on Strange time. 

A short breath escaped him and he shook his head. “Sorry,” Stephen apologised as he looked off in the distance. “That’s okay, kid. Even if you could get me back there, I have no way of fighting Wanda.” He had to admit, even in another universe, New York was still the bustling and beautiful city he had called home for so many years after med school. Where he met you. 

God damn it, Stephen, he chided himself. Get your head back on straight. You need to get home so you can end this and get back to her- no stop it!

“What about the Book of Vishanti?” America asked, taking a few steps forward.

“What about it?”

“Other You thought it could stop whoever was after me.” 

“Yeah, well, good for Other Me. He’s not here, is he? I don’t know where it is, so unless there’s another Other Me…” As he trailed off, Stephen’s eyes locked onto America’s slowly widened ones. 

“We need to go find…”

“Other, Other Me.” Stephen almost smiled again as he heard you cheer in his mind. There you go, Strange. Just take it one step at a time.

===================

Author's Note: So. Uh. Hi? Welcome to the first chapter of a brand new mini-series on my blog! It wasn't my intention to write something this crazy long, but after I got this request, I knew there was no other way (lol). I'm super excited to share this story with you all. Have I gone slightly insane by rewatching MoM at least twice for the sole purpose of dialogue and setting notation? Perhaps, but it's definitely worth it.

If you enjoyed this first chapter, please leave a like, comment, and a reblog. This truly helps me out and lets me know that I should continue with a story like this in the future. If you also want to be added to this story's taglist, let me know that, too! Depending on how much interaction this post gets, maybe I'll be convinced to put up the next chapter before Friday ;)

Until next time, my little sparks <3

[vacantgodling]

❄, 🔥, 🌈, and ☀️ for the ask game !!!

thank you henrike i hope ur doing well 💛

☀️ Sun - What's your favorite part of your WIP?

ough since i’m writing paramour ig i’ll answer for that wip and it’s basically just the actual lengthy overly flowery and descriptive prose has actually been so much fun for me. i should write all my wips like this (i can’t bc it doesn’t fit the vibe of every story so i won’t but ough i love it)

❄️ Snow - Who is your coldest / most stoic character and how do they express themselves (if at all)?

i very much enjoy making stoic characters so i do have several of different varieties. the MOST stoic characters would probably be

jenna magboo (jenna the reaper): because she has flat affect and she has no intonation in her voice whatsoever (until yehna partially possesses her). she usually expresses herself through her actions and she’s very physically affectionate with people she likes. her and carlos hold hands and cuddle quite often and she tends to cling onto people’s clothing as a means of showing care.

rosmarin “red” (red death & the oracle’s favor): our lovely mc who has severe trauma and thus has an extremely difficult time expressing her emotions. she doesn’t tend to show her feelings because showing emotions makes her have physical panic attacks. she does grow a bit better at expressing them through getting closer to hel but she’ll always probably be awkward.

kalifia fandel (tcol): she doesn’t express emotions mostly because being [redacted] she is not familiar with the range of emotions that terraneans feel or can express. she comes across as cold and heartless but she’s honestly very, very neutral about most things. the only thing she expresses any emotion towards for a long time is flowers. she likes them and presses them in notebooks. but other than that she has no interest in being palatable to others because that would impede her mission regardless.

tomb (the graves we dug): similarly to kalifia, tomb is a man bound by duty. being a bounty hunter, attachments get you killed or the other party killed and it’s better to simply detach yourself from all things. he thinks graves and dove are in their predicament because they both care too much. this being said, he isn’t completely cut off from his emotions. he’s just very good at repression and restraint. in another life (his youth) he used to be very expressive and still could be if he chose to. so it’s less that he can’t express care or himself, he just doesn’t.

🔥 Wildfire - Who is your most emotional character and why?

oh god i have a Lot of emotional characters but let’s see if i can narrow it down to my beacons of emotional range:

marco azarola etxebarria (vdtrt): he just has a zest and zeal and love of life, literal ray of sunshine who can draw virtually anyone into his orbit. probably the biggest extrovert of all the vlad protection squad (runner ups being awilda and darren respectively). he’s one of those who doesn’t let his circumstances damper his vibe. +weed helps LMAO.

piper fairwind & san dearborn (tcol): yeah these two but in opposite directions. piper is similar to marco except it’s somewhat more internal. she feels everything intensely as she’s only had herself to rely on for much of her life and in turn she had to become her own advocate, her own cheerleader, her own parent etc. it’s an attitude born out of necessity perhaps. for san it’s the opposite because she was constantly spurned and pushed to the side so she had to fight for what little respect she could get. because of that they tend to run hot tempered and take things that may just be jokes too seriously;;; especially when either of them are with each other emotions are WILD and all over. i just know someone out there is going to ship them and lemme just say, i understand.

thei (god eater): it’s a bit of a cheat to put him here but it’s true. being the last god eater, thei has access to the entire combined consciousness of the singularity within him; so thats hundreds of thousands of emotional ranges potentially at any given moment. he’s kind of like an extreme empath LMAO. he actually tends to be more stoic to try and regulate these intense emotions, however when they get the better of him and he cries, his emotions literally can destroy the entire world basically. it’s why it’s a good thing he has taj to help him bc tbh he was barely holding on before taj came into his life.

🌈 Rainbow - What do you think makes your story unique / stand out?

round this out with paramour again but tbh i feel like the entire premise and the style i’m going for is sort of a slight modernization of types of gothic adjacent stories we haven’t really seen in books the past some odd years. also the fact that it’s got an all black cast for the subject matter and themes is definitely different!

[defineamni]

Back in Time

It has been awhile since my last post which I believe, before everything happened. This is going to be a lengthy and solemn entry but I’ll try to make it relevant with the attached photos.

February 2022 was the beginning of this story. My mom definitely was not in her best condition for a few weeks and at some point she was eventually admitted to a district hospital. Given that I was away from home and there was restriction to travel outside of the campus, I unable to visit her. We had lots of phone and video calls. Until ramadan came which was in late march, I had to move to another campus in Teluk Intan for 2 weeks. It was conventional and compulsory for O&G posting and thus I went there. The 2nd week ends with the news of my mom been diagnosed with cancer. Everyone breaks down. I bawled like crazy. I never felt something so heavy in my chest. Should I say that, I indeed knew that her condition was bad but I was denial.

I came home the day after. Traveled for not less than 7 hours on the road, I finally met her. She was asleep in her room. Her hands were so warm, probably the warmest I’ve ever touched. She wasn’t herself. She was thin and fragile. She lost her appetite, unable to swallow food. But she still smile occasionally when we talk over some trivia things. The late night before she passed away, she saw me watching the tv and asked ‘kakak tak tidur lagi?’ and that was the last time I ever heard that question from her. The day she gone worked like any normal day except that towards the evening, everything seems so dark and stormy especially in my heart.

Weeks after weeks, months after months passed. I felt so empty and lonely. I never feeI like I needed my mom so much until those days come. It reached to a point I had panic attack that night. I cried almost every day and night but at that time, it was too much. The next morning I had another attack at the clinic. I couldn’t stop crying, I was gasping for air and unable to breathe properly. The nurses tried to comfort me but tears kept flowing for a few minutes. I was referred to an occupational therapist and had a few appointments with her. It was very helpful although it took a few months for me to stand by my ownself.

During those difficult days, I only had my housemates. None of my family members know about this. I never wanted to tell them because I knew each of us struggled in our own way. My housemates tried to comfort me but I rejected them most of the time, and when they didn’t, I resented them. Looking back now, what they did actually was to give me time, plus they didn’t know what to do anyway. My academic performance declined and my mental health worsen right after the incident but as time passes, alhamdulillah here I am.

We finally passed MBBS on last january and it almost a year since my mom left. Currently we are waiting for housemanship. Anxious but hopefully we will be guided through the harsh journey.