#tw: broken bones

[hold-on-a-little-longer-whump]

screaming crying and sobbing over characters having hushed conversations over their injured/sick teammate.

Why are they whispering? Is there danger nearby? Do they want to avoid disturbing their teammate? Are they about to do something unpleasant but necessary for their teammate's survival - like setting a bone or flushing out an infected wound?

Or are they talking normally and the injured party just can't understand everything that's being said? Are they delirious with pain or fever? A head injury is affecting their hearing? Are they having difficulty staying conscious, and that one teammate keeps patting their face or shaking them, doing anything they can to keep them awake? Why are there so many hands on them? Why do they keep pushing on their stomach? Why does everyone sound so serious/nervous/angry/sad?

+ bonus points for manhandling their friend bc it's for their own good

[obae-me]

Yo! If you’re currently taking requests I have a hurt/comfort request with the bros for you :)

What about some headcanons where MC has a really bad and vivid nightmare and goes to one of the brothers for help to get out of their fear? To make it more interesting the nightmare can be about something like the infamous lesson 16 event too

That’s all, have a nice day/night!

Ooo hurt/comfort, you know exactly the way to get to my heart, anon! And as someone who used to experience awful awful nightmares, I can do this easily. And for some spice, I will make it about the infamous lesson 16. Angst is the spice of life. Hope you enjoy, anon! 

Another Day, A Different Dream Perhaps. 

Spoiler Warning for Events in Lesson 16! 

TW: Violence, Blood, Broken Bones, Mentions of Death and M*rder. As Always, Read Safely! 

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Running. They were running again. Panting, crying, panicked. These halls that held so many good memories also kept haunting nightmares in their walls. They couldn’t breathe, feeling the faint touch of hands gripping around their throat, the joy in the eyes of the person who was watching them struggle. 

The others...they had to find the others. The shadow was behind them, bloody claws reaching out from the darkness to tear cuts into their skin. Running almost seemed useless, their feet hardly making contact with the ground. But they had to run, run faster. 

The halls they were so familiar with kept changing on them, shifting, twisting, betraying them, like the whole house was in on their demise. They didn’t know where they were...they didn’t know where to go. 

Then a hand grabbed them, pulling them back, pain searing into their body as they were flung harshly in the air. As they landed, a sickly sounding snap echoed in their ears. Their leg...they couldn’t run anymore. And their body...was warm...and wet. Crimson seeped out from under them, a seemingly impossible amount of blood flooded the floors. Figures rose from the dark liquid, looming over them, watching them writhe...watching them suffer with glowing eyes and crooked smiles. 

They could do nothing but cry as they crawled, trying to claw through the ever-rising blood, trying to escape, to get help. But they knew there was none. They knew this was their death. And as they tried to scream, they were only met with silence as the sea of red flooded into their lungs, the shadows leaning over to push them further under. 

As their eyes suddenly opened, they found their brain still filled with panic, confused. They couldn’t tell if this was still a dream. They were certain something would be back to kill them. The pain of death still lingered in their body. It had felt so real. What was reality? So once more, they ran, fleeing from their room, tired feet tripped over themselves as they stumbled. Their body seemed to be leading them where they needed to go, whether they were thinking about it or not. 

Weak fingers grasped at the doorknob, pushing their way through the door. Their leg gave out on them, still tingling from the feeling of being broken. As they fell to the ground, they seemed to finally find their voice, their lungs wheezing from the strain. They sobbed, gulping in gasping breaths of frigid night air. Please, this time, save them. Somebody save them! 

“Help me!” 

Lucifer 

He’s a light sleeper, so the noise of someone running through the halls had stirred him awake already. He was already in the process of sitting up, preparing to scold whoever thought it was wise to cause such a ruckus this late at night. 

That was until MC barreled into his room, immediately collapsing, in hysterics. Screaming for help. 

He’s seen a lot in his life. Nothing really gets to him anymore. But hearing MC like that raised every hair on the skin of his body.

His demon form came out immediately, wings pushing the comforter right off his bed, running out into the hallway to see what the problem was. Only...there was no one there. Rushing back into his room, he shut the door, getting to his knees, fearing he’d find them hurt. But there were no injuries. 

His hands cupped the side of their face, trying to get them to stop their frantic rocking on the ground. “MC...MC! What is it? What’s wrong?” As much as he hated seeing them so out of it, he hoped they weren’t paying enough attention to hear the worried crack in his voice. 

They grabbed at the front of his clothing, pulling themselves to him. “He’s coming! Please help me...” 

All at once he knew what was happening. Once more, the walls surrounding his heart chipped away as he was reminded of another one of his failures. One of the most terrible ones. 

With a hand against the back of their head, he rested them against his shoulder. “You’re alright. You’re alright.” He repeated to them, trying to keep his voice calm. “It was simply a nightmare.” 

He hated this. He hated that moments like these came about too often. He hated always being damage control. But...he mostly just hated seeing them this way, being able to do nothing about it other than holding them close, hoping the sound of his voice will eventually bring them out of it. 

He shushed them gently, stroking the back of their head while rocking them slowly back and forth on the ground, keeping the tune of a soft melody in his head. He’s reminded of several times where he’s had to do the same thing to his brothers when they were a bit younger. It’s been a while since he’s done this. Is he...doing it correctly? 

Eventually, he noticed that the sobbing has stopped. They still seemed to be crying, but softly this time, perhaps a bit more aware of their surroundings. “Come now, you’re going to cry yourself sick.” He patted their back and started to stand, carrying them in his arms. 

He brought them to a seat near the fireplace, settling them down, trying not to allow himself to be weak when they appear to refused to let him go, clinging to the fabric of his sleeves. “Hold on, I’ll be just a moment.” He has to take care of them first, no matter how much his heart is screaming to hold them just a bit longer. 

He leaves, gathering tissues and a cup of water. When he returns, he notices that their tears have almost completely stopped, but now they simply looked blankly at the flames dancing in the fireplace. He set the box of tissues next to them, reaching down to grab their hand so he can place the cup of water in their grasp. “Drink,” he demands, although there’s no hint of harshness in his voice, only concern. He stands there and waits till they take the first sip, not allowing himself to feel any sort of relief till they do so. 

He bends his knees, lowering himself so he can look up at their face, one of his hands settled supportively on their thigh. “Take it easy. Give it some time. Collect yourself. Shall I put on some music to calm the nerves?” They nodded, remaining silent. He straightened, heading over to his record player, his thumb brushing over the vinyl collection. He plucked out one that was dear to his heart. One MC had gifted him. He took it out with gentle fingers, placing it in the record player, settling the needle down, listening to the first few notes come through before he turned back to the human taking the chair next to them by the fireplace. The chair feels too far away from them now, even if he could reach over and touch their shoulder with his hand. 

There’s a question on the tip of their tongue, one he can feel. Their pride is getting in the way. As much as he would wish to hear the suggestion straight from their lips, he’s more than happy to bring it up. “Would you like to stay the night with me?” As they open their mouth, he cuts them off, already knowing what they would say. “It wouldn’t be a bother. I would even like to think that I would sleep better, knowing you were safe and sound right next to me.” 

They think about it, but eventually nod. If under better circumstances, he would be beaming. But he remains calm, standing up to extend a hand, waiting till they took it before leading them to his bed, tucking them in first. 

The back of one of his fingers ends up trailing down the side of their cheek. A gentle touch he could not resist. “Just sleep now, and do not worry, you won’t have any more nightmares tonight. You can rest assured, I won’t let measly dreams best me.”

They raised an eyebrow, clearing their throat before they spoke. “Did you just make a joke?” 

“Perhaps.” He got into bed beside them, and despite the grand size of the mattress, he moved to be right beside them. “I’ll find you,” he then promised. “In real life or in the hazy blur of your subconscious, I’ll find you whenever you need me. Don’t forget that.” The light of the fire and the sound of music seemed to dim. He shut his eyes, a subtle pleased smile on his face. “I will see you soon.” 

Mammon

He sleeps deep. But not that deep. If someone comes bursting through his door crying, it’s bound to wake him up. Scared the life out of him at first, nearly jumped straight out of bed. His first thoughts running through his sleepy mind was a ghost. 

But when he realized who it was...he almost wished it was a ghost. He’d rather be the one scared. 

He scrambled over to them, tripping on his own comforter that had slumped to the ground, crawling over the floor till he was near them, pulling them into his arms. “What is it?! Who hurt ya?! What happened?!” He yelled. He has to be careful, focusing on not greedily digging his own claws into their pajamas, trying not to growl at whoever would’ve done such a thing to them. 

MC could only speak in panicked statements, repeating the same phrase over and over again. “I don’t want to die...I don’t want to die...” 

It hit him much too hard. The memory. The way he felt when it happened...for real. When they said those same words to him right before the light left their eyes. 

He couldn’t help but cry. He’d seen it in his nightmares too. Over and over again. 

With a lowered head, tears managed to escape his eyes as the guilt seemed to tear him into pieces again. Why? Why couldn’t he have been there to help them? Why were they still feeling the pain of this? Why them? 

“I’m sorry,” he choked, his throat so strained with pain, he could hardly speak. He held them tighter, pulling them so close he was almost curved over them protectively. “I’m here with you now. I- I won’t let anyone hurt you again. Nobody. So please...stop cryin’. I’ll get you whatever you want! We can buy it right now!” His heart breaks further when they hardly seem to be listening. Money can’t buy their happiness right now...only he can. 

Only...what can he do? Right...he’s the joke of the family. Maybe if he can make ‘em laugh, they’ll stop crying! Just pull something from his stand-up comedy routine with Levi. 

“What- uh -” He clears his throat, trying to stop his own tears. He needs to be the strong one for them. They take care of him all the time, it’s about time he pays back his debt. “Why are relationships a lot like algebra?” He gave them a gentle shake, hoping to Diavolo that they were listening. “Be-because have you ever looked at your X and wondered Y?...Eh? Eh? You get it, because-” 

MC squeaked a bit, a noise made from perhaps a bit of bewilderment at the stupidity of the joke. Although, their quick change in breathing gave them the hiccups, or maybe it was caused simply from crying too much. However, the tears seemed to lessen. 

“Out of one problem, and into the next, huh? Can’t seem to keep yourself out of trouble.” He gave them a pained chuckle, knowing full well that most of their troubles were stemmed from him and his brothers. He felt their body make little jolts as the hiccups continued. He picked them up, letting their arms wrap around his neck as he brought them over to his bed. His demon form lowered, sharp wings and horns tucked away as he brought them underneath the covers. 

They continued to cling to him, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel his heart grow warm. Unfortunate that they had to come here in a panic to get this way but...make the most of what you got, yeah? He let them sit in his lap, rubbing circles into their back as he wondered what Lucifer or Satan would say. Something smart and comforting. 

“I’d try to spook the hiccups out of ya, but I don’t think that would work seein’ as how you’re too good to be scared like that.” At those words, they seemed to shrink into him more. “S-so, how about we just hold our breath for a bit? I’ll do it with ya. Hold it in as long as ya can. Ready? One, two,” he sucked in his breath, waiting till they did the same. They sat there in silence, counting in their head, feeling each others hearts beat in each other’s chests. Then MC let it all out in a long shaky exhale. 

They both waited, hoping that the hiccups were gone. After a while of nothing, Mammon grinned. “There we go, we got it! All gone, see?... It’s all gone.” If only that were true for everything. If he could help them hold their breath and forget all their troubles, he’d never breathe again. A silly thought, one that didn’t make sense, he knows that, but...it’s an honest one. 

“How about we try to sleep again, huh?” He tucked their head under his chin. “I’ll keep ya in my arms all night so you know you’re safe...and if any nightmares show up, just dream of me and I’ll beat it away!” 

They finally let out a little chuckle. “Promise?” 

He gives them a little squeeze. “I swear. I won’t let anything harm ya. Not even in your dreams.” 

Levi

If even Levi is asleep, you know it’s late. He also doesn’t expect anyone to come to his room in general, much less in the dead of night. So when his door suddenly opened, he freaked out. He jolted up, climbing out of his bathtub-bed just to fall to the floor. 

And that was all before he heard the crying. 

He peeked around the porcelain curve of his bed to spot MC. His mind went blank, so many thoughts running through his head at once, his brain was shutting down. Why were they in here crying? Did he do something? Did someone else do something? Why were they here of all places?

“H-h-hey? MC?” He worked his way to his feet, coming over to them. “You...uh...you alright?” He hated how unsure and unsupportive he sounded. Of course they weren’t alright! He could see that! He needed to focus! They were in a much worse state than he was! Now was not the time to get lost in his own mind. Just...do what comes instinctively, don’t overthink it. 

He shut his door first, knowing that if it were him, he would appreciate the privacy. He then quickly stepped over to his bed, pulling the blanket out from in it. He placed it over their shoulders, slowly settling down on the floor to tuck it tighter around them. “Wh-what’s wrong? I’m here. You can- you can tell me.” 

They clutched at their head, trying to curl up into a ball on his floor. That’s usually his thing. He almost wishes he could claim it for himself, just so he didn’t have to see MC do the same. “I’m scared...I’m so scared...Don’t let him find me...” 

“Don’t let who--” And then it crashed over him like a wave, the memory he had already tried so hard to forget. He hadn’t done much...when it happened. He stood behind everyone else, only able to watch, frozen in shock. Like a coward. So why him? Why did they come to him now? 

Before he’s even fully aware he’s doing it, he’s stuffing his tub with everything soft he can find. Pillows, blankets, stuffed animals, the works. He’s not even fully aware of his tail slipping from it’s glamour, wrapping gently around their waist so he can be holding them while he works on this little nest of his. When he’s done, he uses his arms to lift them up, placing them in the cocoon of softness. Like a shelter, a safe space. 

If there’s anything he knows how to do well, it’s hide. So he’ll hide them away, tuck them against everything he loves, everything that makes him feel safe. 

The motion seems to pull them out of their state that they were in. They looked around, watching the light reflecting off the water in the fish-tank ripple across the ceiling. Then they turned their head to look at him. “Levi?” 

He quickly releases his tail from them, gripping the front of his shirt to keep his emotions from spilling out. “Y-you can stay here for the rest of the night. It-it might sound weird, but the bathtub can actually be pretty cozy. It feels like a nest, and sometimes, when I get too hot I--” He was rambling again, his mouth releasing the anxiety for him, but he stopped talking when he felt them tug on his sleeve. 

It’s not really made for two...it’s supposed to be a one-person sort of thing, since he’s always alone and all, but...he can feel them trying to pull them in. He...wanted to do that anyway but...he didn’t feel like he deserved it. This wasn’t about him though, was it? And that was okay. 

So, he got into bed, the both of them much too close as they were pushed together by pillow and plush. He didn’t have much of a choice other than to hold them now. Or perhaps that was just an excuse. 

He struggled to act first...always, it seemed. Especially when it was about something important. Just like before...and like now. Just once...he wanted to...he wanted to...

He settled his forehead against theirs. They were a bit warm, probably from crying so much. His heart nearly stopped in his chest from such a bold act, but he wanted to do it. So badly. To hold them, to make them feel safe, to protect them, like he should’ve done on that day, to show how much he cared. 

“When-whenever I get nightmares, I just squeeze something really hard till I wake up. You can try that tonight. If you start to get another bad dream, just hold...hold onto me.” He’s tempted to press his lips to their forehead, like in a perfect anime episode. It’s the pinnacle of comfort. But he doesn’t have that much courage for it, compromising with pressing his cheek to their forehead instead. “We can try as many times as it takes to get it right. A perfect run!” His heart isn’t beating as fast as he expected it would. This was...nice. It was something he’d imagined for a long time. “...A perfect dream.” 

Satan

He doesn’t sleep too heavily unless he ends up pulling too many late and sleepless nights reading his books. Tonight, fortunately, was not one of those nights. He wasn’t too far into his dreams, slightly waking up as he turned over on his other side, unable to fall into a deeper sleep with a book wedged under his back. 

It was one fateful circumstance, because anyone who had the misfortune of crashing into his room in the dark was bound to wind up hurting themselves. Have you seen the state of his room? One clumsy bump was all it took for there to be a literature landslide. 

Which was exactly what MC did. 

Still under the sleepy fog of fear, MC threw Satan’s door wide, stumbling in the dark, falling to the floor, their shoulder making contact with a tower of books. If he hadn’t already been somewhat awake...and if MC hadn’t wailed from the top of their lungs, he might not have made it in time. 

Dozens of book spines and hardcover corners pounded into his back as he covered MC with his body, trying to curl them under his frame despite not being nearly as large as someone like Beel would be. 

Once the dust settled, he shook off a few tomes that had settled on his back. Then he took MC by the shoulders, so filled with wild concern that he didn’t even notice MC’s tears. “What do you think you’re doing coming in here like that?!” He panted a bit, blood pounding through his body with adrenaline. He had to take a second to compose himself, taking a deep breath...and then he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t shaking their shoulders...they were convulsing with sobs. 

He quickly moved from above them, settling beside them instead, forcing them to sit up. “What? What’s wrong? What happened?” 

“Hurts...” They cried. “It hurts...” 

He was suddenly worried his quick action wasn’t quite quick enough. A book must’ve hit them, or maybe they hurt themselves when they tumbled. “Where?” He curled a hand around their chin, checking their face before tugging at their sleeves to check their arms. “Where does it hurt?” 

Their fingers moved up to grasp at their throat, hands wrapping around them in such a way to show...

He takes both of MC’s wrists and pulls their arms down, lowering his head, some of his fingers moving up to weave themselves between MC’s. He doesn’t need anything else to go off of. He knows what they’re talking about. He had been one of the ones to check them over when it happened. Every grievous detail of every critical injury was seared into his mind. 

He should probably make sure they weren’t hurt aside from...that. 

So, he picked them up, pushing some of his books away with his foot, still doing so with great care. He settled them on his bed, making sure there were no hidden novels under the covers. He found the one that had been bothering him earlier and set it aside. 

The light of the moon coming through his window provided adequate light to check on them with. Besides, doing a sort of check-up like this might bring them back to reality. 

“Can you move your arms?” He made them move their limbs, wiggle their fingers, stretch their neck, flex their feet, just to ensure they felt no immediate pain. Phantom pains would be...harder to deal with. But it seemed the more they moved, the more they were forced to focus on something else, and in turn cry a little less. 

He pulled the fabric of his long-sleeve cat-print pajamas over his hand, moving to dry their cheeks. “There, there. Still in pain?” They shook their head, which let him sigh in relief. “Not even a papercut?” They shook their head again as he lowered his hand, pleased to see the tears had stopped. “That’s good...Do you want to stay here tonight?” He could only hope they wouldn’t shake their head a third time. 

“...Okay,” they agreed. 

Calm. He had to remind himself, keeping himself from basically throwing himself beside them under the covers. He tucked them in first, joining in after, making sure they didn’t bonk their head against his headboard as they got down, placing his hand on the side of their face. 

“I’ll tell you a story while you fall asleep. Maybe then you’ll finish the plot in your dreams. So, with that in mind, I’m going to be in the story, obviously, and a ton of little fluffy kittens.” He pulls the blanket further up their body as they turn on their side to face him. He rubs up and down their arm, being incredibly gentle as he does so, trying to massage out the tenseness in their muscles. “I’ll dream the same, so when you wake up, we can compare how they ended. This time, it’ll end the way you want it to. I know it.” 

Asmo

He’s an early to bed, early to rise kind of person. When he’s not partying that is. Tonight he had nothing planned but a full night of beauty sleep for a more beautiful Asmo. 

That was till someone barged through his door. And unfortunately, not in the way he’s always wanting. 

As he heard MC shout and sob, he immediately sat straight up, wishful fantasies flying out of his head all at once. No...this was definitely far from what he wanted. 

He flicked on a little side light, casting the room in a warm pink-hue, but he didn’t really care how the room looked. With the light on, he could see in more detail how frightened MC looked, how distraught they were. It broke his heart. 

“Oh, hon,” he gasped, getting to his knees in front of them, holding their head in his hands, trying to almost frantically bush away the tears as soon as they dripped from their eyes. “What is it? Who did this? If someone hurt you I--” 

“Am I alive?” Their watery and confused eyes stared at him, focusing and unfocusing, perhaps still in the process of fully waking up. They repeated their question again as their voice cracked, their hands coming up to grab the front of Asmo’s pajamas, hands shaking. “Am I alive?” 

He couldn’t help but cover his mouth, eyes stinging as it all settled in. He didn’t want to remember it. He didn’t want to think about how they looked when... “Oh, MC...honey...” He wrapped his arms around them, pulling them into him, nuzzling his head against theirs, trying not to cry, feeling the warmth of their body, the beating of their heart, the sound of their breath so close to his ear. That way, he could say with absolute certainty. “You’re alive...you’re here, with me, right as you should be, okay?” His perfectly pitched voice was suddenly squeaking in odd places as his throat suddenly seemed strained. He didn’t want to cry. He wouldn’t. They both couldn’t be a mess. 

“Come on, no more crying, you’ll end up feeling awful.” He coaxes them up, guiding them over to his bed where he helps them sit down. He gathers a few things around the room to make them feel better. 

He is the king of pampering after all. 

He uses a room spray to make the room smell like their favorite scent. He grabs the comfiest fluffy socks. He always has a spare water bottle on hand for hydration. But best of all, he brings over little circular gel packs that he keeps in a small makeup fridge to keep them cool. They’re even designed like little cucumber slices. 

“Here you are, dear.” He does all the work making them comfortable, making them drink and then helping them lean back so he can place the cold packs over their eyes. “This will help with the swelling and puffiness...and probably the pounding headache behind those eyes.” 

He sits beside them on the bed, his hand over theirs, rubbing his thumb back and forth against their wrist. “Just breathe...it’s alright, your beautiful Asmo is here.” He was hoping saying that would make them smile or chuckle. He’d even take a groan or some reaction, but they just remained quiet. He...doesn’t blame them. 

After a few minutes, MC takes the packs from off their face, setting them aside. It did seem to help luckily, they didn’t seem as red as before. He can smile at that, although weakly, leaning forward a little to swipe away an eyelash that had come loose and fallen on MC’s face. He makes sure their cheeks are dry while he’s at it, rubbing the back of his hand up and down their face in soothing motions. 

“I think you should stay here tonight,” he states. “If you don’t want to sleep, we can have a little slumber party! But even I think you should get some more rest. I think you look absolutely exhausted.” He speaks in a soft and worried tone, not ashamed to still be petting their head, hoping it’s as comforting to them as it is for him. “What’ll it be?” 

“I’m tired...” They agree, but say so hesitantly, afraid of running into more nightmares. 

“Then bedtime it is!” He puts away any stray objects, turning off the light before joining Asmo in bed. He lays beside them, his finger tracing the outline of MC’s face over and over again, in such a slow hypnotic way that it makes their eyelids droop. “I won’t stand for unbeautiful things in my room, which means nightmares are absolutely not allowed. Just look at me while you fall asleep, and I know for certain your dreams will be just as beautiful as I am. I know my dreams will be amazing tonight too...because I’ll be looking at you.” 

Beel

Beel’s connection with his twin helps him sleep deeply at night, only waking when he’s hungry, and most times not even then. He’ll just eat in his sleep. However, tonight, it seemed Belphie was more active than usual, probably out star-gazing by himself. So, it was keeping Beel more awake than normal, only sleeping lightly, tossing and turning as he tried to not think about how hungry he was. 

Then the door slammed open. 

It’s not usually a sound he associates with Belphie, so his eyes opened, catching MC at just the right moment when they fell to the ground. 

His feet touched the floor before they could even scream. 

In fact, their ‘help me’ cry was muffled as he pulled them into his arms, careful not to crush them or squeeze too hard. It was difficult to control, but he was capable. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt them. 

“Why are you sad? Why are you crying?” His heart seems to break with each racking sob. He glanced over to his twin’s bed only to confirm that Belphie was in fact gone. He would have to comfort them alone...

They grip at his sleeves, seeming to grow ever smaller as they shrink into him. They struggle with speaking, almost hyperventilating, but finally able to speak the words he’d never want to hear again. “He killed me...” 

........

........

Oh...

He doesn’t always pick up on things quite like the others do, but this...he didn’t need to ask. That was about as straightforward as you could get...

He usually runs warm, but all the sudden his blood ran cold, goosebumps rushing over his skin, his stomach dropping. 

He felt sick. 

Even now, he still did his best to convince himself it never happened, that it was all a bad dream. But it wasn’t...he knew that. So in reality, it remained one of the worst days of his long life. How...how are you supposed to feel when...when your twin...when your family...

A pained groan rumbles in his throat, sounding almost like a whimper. It hurts. Their pain hurts him like it’s his own. That usually only happens with Belphie, but this time, it’s with MC. It’s awful...

He tilts their head back carefully, frowning deeply as he uses his thumbs to clear the tears from their face. His bottom lip almost quivers as theirs does, resting his head on theirs for a moment. He doesn’t think they want food to cheer them up...so he’ll have to do what he’s used to doing next. 

He picks them up, cradling them against his chest, taking them over to his bed. He only needs to keep one arm under them to hold them while he uses the other one to give his sheets and blankets a firm shake, removing any lingering crumbs. He then uses one of those blankets to wrap MC in like a little burrito. He won’t eat them, promise. He’s pretty nauseous right now anyway, something people only thought happened when Solomon’s food was involved. 

He settles them into his bed and lays himself next to them, placing himself lower than they were so his head was near their chest. He wanted to hear their heartbeat...every beat, every second, every breath was precious to him. 

“I think you’re so strong,” he says, wrapping one arm over them. “Stronger than me. You do so much for us all. You’ve been through so much because of us...” After listening to their heartbeat for a while, he pushes himself back up on the bed so he can tuck them against his chest this time. “I’m sorry...I’m sorry, MC...” 

He can’t help but feel like this is his fault as well. He should’ve known what was going on. How did he not know Belphie was in the House this whole time? His twin always gets too cranky if he’s by himself for too long, even if he’ll never say it. He could’ve done more...been stronger, been smarter.

Maybe not...he knows MC wouldn’t want him to think such things. He knows Lilith wouldn’t want that either. 

MC already seemed a little more at peace, not fully calm, but not crying anymore. That makes him feel a little better. “I’ll become even stronger so I can carry all the heavy things for you. I’ll stop whatever is hurting you too. Let me have it all so you can sleep good, okay?” He plants a kiss atop their head and runs his hand through their hair, sorta like Belphie likes. “Just think of pudding or cake or ice cream, that way you can have sweet dreams.” 

Belphie 

It’s hard to wake him up most of the time. He sleeps like the dead. So, when MC entered the twin’s room, he hardly stirred. If anything, he assumed Beel was the one making the noise. 

To be fair, he was dreaming himself. It was a pleasant one, one that he didn’t want to wake up from. He, Beel, and MC were enjoying a picnic under the stars. They looked so at peace, looking up at the constellations as he told them all about the stories. Then a leaf from a tree fluttered onto the human's shoulder. He reached a hand out to brush it away...and then...

“Help me!” MC’s cry rang through, even in his dream, forcing it to change in an instant. Turning it into a nightmare. His hands were around their throat. His fingers were squeezing them, hurting them. But he could not let go. Did he want to let go? Of course he does! He’s hurting MC! But that’s what he wanted. That’s what he planned. He didn’t know what he wanted! He was hurt! He was angry! He was desperate! Would he have cared if they weren’t connected to Lilith? That’s the only reason why he stopped. 

In the nightmare, he’s standing over their body, watching the human suffer. Watching his brothers suffer. Even Beel. Had he enjoyed his own twin’s sadness? All he could do was stand there and watch as each of his brothers turned to him with eyes filled with betrayal. It’s not fair! He was the one betrayed! But he was doing this for them! For everyone! Humans brought nothing but pain and suffering. 

“Don’t lie to yourself.” His demon form stood in front of him, like a twisted, bloody reflection. “This was never about humans in the first place. Something precious was taken from you. So in return, you wanted to take something precious from everyone else. Make them feel your pain. Make them suffer like you had suffered. Because that’s all you can do. Because you’re a demon. A monster.” The image changed to that of MC’s now, able to look at him with nothing but fear. “A murderer.” 

With that, he awoke in a cold sweat, trying to give his fuzzy mind the time to recall that it was just a dream. Only...he could still hear MC crying. Was he awake, or not?... He sat up, looking over at Beel’s bed. Empty. His twin was probably in the kitchen getting a late-night snack. So then the sound... With a glance, he could spot the very end of their head on the floor, right by the end of...his bed. 

The whispers of dreams and memories repeated in his head. Somehow, he knew. He knew they were crying because of him. He knew what plagued their mind at night. 

Why should he help them? Why should he comfort them? That would be too selfish of him. He should just lie back down, pretend like he wasn’t awake, and have Beel help them when he came back. 

So that’s what he tried to do, pressing his pillow over his ears to block the noise...to try to keep himself from crying with them.  

But then...he realized he was doing exactly what his brothers were doing. Ignoring things. Pretending like they didn’t exist. Sweeping problems under the rug...or locking them in the attic. That’s one of the reasons why he got so angry in the first place. 

So, he quietly got out of bed, dragging his pillow and a blanket with him. He stepped over to where they were curled on the floor, and sat beside them. He lifted their head and put his favorite pillow under them, throwing the blanket over their body. He pulled his knees up to his chest and started running his fingers through their hair, like he so often requested they do for him.

He won’t say sorry. Sorrys are saved for things like sleeping in and missing plans or eating someone’s snacks they’d saved for later. Sorry wasn’t good enough for this. Perhaps nothing would be. 

Eventually, MC’s crying dies down, far too exhausted to continue. “B-Belphie?” Their throat sounded scratchy. 

“Don’t say anything,” he demanded, both because it sounded painful and because he couldn’t stand to hear his name like that. He flopped over on the ground, turning so they were facing away from each other, the back of his head against theirs. “Try to get some more sleep.” 

“I...don’t think I want to...” They paused, sniffling and trying to get their breathing back to normal. “I’m sorry for...waking you up.” 

Hearing them apologize almost broke him. “Don’t be...I was having a nightmare too.” They both go quiet, and for a moment, he believes they’d fallen asleep. He did have a question, one he wanted to ask even if it never got answered. “Why did you come in here...where I was?” 

Silence. He closes his eyes, simply content with the way things were, but then he heard them move turning on their other side to look at him. “I...don’t really know. Maybe, I just needed to be with the real Belphie…Leave the other one to the nightmares...” He didn’t dare look at them, but he felt them push the blanket over his body as well so they could share in the warmth together. He could feel them bury their face in his back. They were cold. “I prefer this one.” 

He doesn’t understand...but...trying to understand was hard work. Not to be solved all in one night of guilt. Right now...MC needed him. He needed them too. “Are you comfortable on the floor?” 

“...Not really.” 

“Then get in my bed, silly.” He stood up, not giving them much of a choice, dragging them to his bed where they would be warm, tucking the covers around them. He sat beside them and waited...thinking. “I want to go on a picnic with you and Beel. Let’s go tomorrow.” 

“A picnic sounds nice...but we have class tomorrow.” 

“I don’t care. We’ll ditch classes. We’ll pack up the best food and the softest blankets and have Beel carry us to where we can easily see the stars.” He finally lies back down beside them. “That’s my dream. I want to make it come true. I don’t...” Again, this is selfish of him...but he’s the baby of the family, and a demon, so he can’t help it, right? “So you have to come with. I don’t want any of my dreams to happen without you...Think all about it tonight, so you can have something to look forward to tomorrow. So you can have good dreams tonight.” 

[angry-geno-is-score]

For the prompt! (if you don’t already have too many)

“It’s going to be okay, just don’t look.” Maybe an on-ice injury??

...."It's going to be okay, just don't look."

There are a billion things swirling around in Adam's head right now, each screaming desperately for his attention, so it's a bit of a miracle that he manages to sound so calm and unaffected. Vince is visibly trembling where he leans against Adam's chest, broken wrist cradled against his stomach. Somewhere behind them, Matty's voice is frantically calling for a trainer.

Thank God this isn't during a game, Adam thinks, because the only thing worse than the eyes of their teammates on them is the eyes of 17,000 fans.

The team isn't just staring at the grotesque angle of Vince's left wrist. Vince has his face pressed against Adam's neck, his hot tears slipping down Adam's throat and wetting his practice jersey. This close, Adam can hear the pained little whimpers leaving his partner's lips. Each one feels like a knife to the heart.

"I c-can't move it," Vince moans. He's got his good hand fisted in the material of Adam's jersey, and he gives a feeble little tug as he speaks.

"Don't try, sweetheart," Adam says, doing his best to keep the endearment quiet. He's pretty sure the entire team knows their secret now, but he can still try to be discreet. "Just sit here with me, you're okay. The trainers are coming over right now."

"It hurts," Vince whispers, pressing even further into Adam's neck. "It--Adam, I think it's broken."

Adam glances down at the awful angle of Vince's wrist through his jersey sleeve. "Don't look, baby," he says, maintaining that calm, even tone. "You're going to be okay."

The trainers get to them a moment later, sliding in and easily taking control of the situation. Adam is forced to pull away from Vince to give them room to work. Somewhat desperately, he grabs Mike's arm and says, "He can't--He doesn't do well with broken bones. Don't make him look."

Mike gives Adam a calm, professional smile. "Don't worry, Lars, we'll take care of him." He gives Adam's shoulder a squeeze, and then he turns his full attention to Vince, who has his head tipped up to the ceiling of the arena as he answers questions in a shaky voice.

Adam wants nothing more than to just hover--who cares that it's not something platonic coworkers would do, the cat is clearly out of the bag anyway--but he forces himself to put some distance between Vince and the trainers surrounding him. Vince probably doesn't see how their teammates are watching them, surprise and recognition in their eyes. He'd been the most nervous about telling the team, scared that their teammates would reject them or shut them out if they knew about their relationship. The team definitely knows now, but Vince might not be aware of that yet. Adam cringes at the thought of that conversation.

The trainers get Vince up and onto his skates after a moment, and the team raps their sticks on the ice. Adam watches as Vince is shakily guided toward the tunnel that will take him off the practice rink, wishing with every fiber of his being that he could--

"You should go with him," a voice says.

Adam jumps, turning to find Hak standing a few yards away. There's something knowing in his coach's blue eyes. Surprisingly, his normally-stony expression is soft.

"I can...?" Adam can't quite finish that sentence.

Hak nods in the direction of the tunnel. "We're almost done for today anyway. You're excused. Send the boys updates when you can, eh?"

Adam swallows once, twice, and then he nods. "I will."

A couple of the boys tap him with their sticks comfortingly as he skates through the small crowd toward the tunnel. As Adam is hurrying toward the edge of the rink, he hears someone's voice call out, "Tell Dunner we love him for us!"

Someone else adds, "Give him a little kiss for me!"

Adam rolls his eyes as he exits the rink to the sound of lighthearted laughter. It seems the team has gone straight through the awkward phase and dived headfirst into the chirping. He should probably be annoyed, but honestly, he's just grateful; he should have known he and Vince would have nothing to fear on this team.

As he heads down the tunnel to the trainer's room where Vince is waiting, he feels himself smile.

[fcdcdmcmories]

HE HAD BEEN IN AND OUT OF CONSCIENCE FOR.. QUITE SOME TIME NOW. it was quite ironic, wasn't it? it was as if mind knew that there was something very, very wrong and.. did not want to let him wake up in the slightest. regardless, parker did remember what it was that someone had told him. or .. bits of it? his arm, it was .. well, it would have been an understatement to say that she had made sure that he was never going to be able to play guitar again. BROKEN .. IN THREE DIFFERENT PLACES. why was it, then, that he felt as if that was not even the worse thing that could have happened? what were people not telling him? when he heard someone move around the room, he frowned and blinked, attempting to see if they were really there. his head hurt. "HUH.. HI? trust me, it's not as bad as it looks. been through worse shit in the past. what are you doing here?" a joke in classic parker fashion. that was technically TRUE? he had been. why was it.. then.. that his chest ached as if there was something very, very, very wrong? @walstarterblog

[futureboy-caseyjones]

Time skip~

*The doctors gave them the paperwork to sign and handed Casey some pain killers, bidding them safe travels*

// @three-anons-one-blog

[xbullseye]

you’re hot when you’re angry.

@pleinsdemuses

He let out a wordless roar of rage as soon as the door to the safehouse closed behind him. The place was untouched, which he took to mean Kingpin didn't yet know about it, but he was still furious about the abduction. He swiped some things off the nearest table, and at least one of them made a satisfying crack that meant it was broken. That internal fury needed an external outlet, but as long as he was only smashing things, it wasn't a fatal level of anger. Dex was most dangerous at a distance, not close up.

"How did he know? We were careful!" he raged, kicking over a chair. A boot came down on one of the legs until it snapped with an audible crack, not unlike the sound the bones in his hand had made when he broke them to get free of the cuffs. He was equally proficient with both hands, so it hadn't slowed him down, but he resented having to go to such lengths. Dex was always careful, meticulous even, and when that ended, there was nothing left but chaos and murder. When he found out where the mistake had happened there were going to be more bodies on the ground.

[harveyb-wabbit92]

[R/n broke her left arm. Mirai takes her to the emergency room.]

Nurse #1: At least it’s your left arm!

[R/n starts crying, Mirai pats her on the back while the nurse looks confused.]

Mirai: They’re left-handed!

Nurse #2: At least it’s your left!

Mirai: Still Left-handed…

Doctor: At least—

R/n, wailing in despair: I’m left-handed, Goddammit!

[Mirai is still rubbing her back, but also trying not to laugh, Same story when R/n got assigned desk work.]

Marina: Look on the bright side, at least it was your left arm!

R/n, deep-inhale, resisting urge to bang head against desk.: ….Yeah, lucky me!~

[ex0rin]

Whumpcember 2022 - Day 12

2014 -

2024 -

gifs are mine!

@whumpcember Day 12: Broken bone John Walker, Bucky Barnes - 660 words broken bones, past trauma

Bucky doesn’t care.

He really, really doesn’t care. 

But he remembers.

Confused and exhausted, injured and broken –

He remembers walking away from the burning Triskelion –

He can never forget the blue and red flashing lights and the ache in his chest and legs and arms; the smoke in his lungs, the taste of fire on his tongue and the line of pain radiating up from his elbow to his shoulder, down from there to his wrist - the strange way his bones tried to patch back together because of the serum, because of the experimentation that enabled his healing. 

Bucky thinks about Walker and hates that the other man even crosses his mind – 

He gets less than three blocks away from the abandoned trainyard where he and Sam forcibly took the shield back from Walker before he turns around – Steve’s shield, though he can’t think about that for too long without his breath hitching and his eyes watering; even though they discussed it, it was never truly real until Steve didn’t appear back on that platform in front of him, decision made.

Final.

Forever.

He hates that he cares about this. 

By all rights he should leave Walker suffering with the serum new and pumping through his veins and an elbow shattered, but he remembers – 

Bucky knows what it was like to walk away with no handler, disoriented with a failed mission and the muscles and tendons in his arm stretching and shifting and fixing themselves without him even knowing – 

He remembers the pain of having to catch his wrist between his ankles and bend his body back hard and sudden enough to shatter the bone again himself; it wasn’t the first or third time he tried, his body shaking and his teeth clenched around the leather of one of his torn off uniform buckles - he dislocated his shoulder twice before sobbing brokenly through the final break. 

He makes it back to the warehouse to find Sam gone (The Shield with him) and Walker curled in on himself against one of the pillars within - the other man having been left bleeding, swearing under his breath; Bucky's improved hearing catches the hitch of his breath, the sound so close to all the ones Bucky has made before – 

“Walker,” he starts, not realizing how rough and hard his own voice still sounds; he’s still absolutely fucking furious and there’s nothing that can change that now, “look, you’re new to this whole serum thing, I get it,” he tries, wincing again at his tone (this isn't how you help people says a voice in his head) - Walker flinches noticeably and looks up, those blue eyes blown all the way to black with how huge his pupils have gotten from the fight.

From the pain and violence and adrenaline.

Bucky's been there before.

“If you don’t want to listen to me, that’s fine but,” Bucky continues and there must be something else broken inside of Walker (other than his arm) because he just sits there, tears in his eyes and watching Bucky while cradling his elbow close to his chest, “you need to set it now, if you don’t you’ll have to break it again.”

Bucky pauses, close enough that if he wanted he could reach out and help –

Not that he will. 

“It’s already healing, you need to set it.” he says again and if there’s pity in his voice he does nothing at all to hide it; Walker made this choice – the choice to take the serum – and it’s on him now. 

He turns away without even getting an answer, walking back towards the big open doors on the other side of the warehouse; he did what he could, more than he should, and the rest of it is up to Walker. 

He hears the sickening crunch of two bones realigning and the rough, bitten back scream from Walker before he’s back out into daylight.

It's more kindness than anyone ever gave him.

[moralpuppet]

While we are on the Orel headcannon train ! I mean I've said it before and it's pretty much cannon but this boy has such a high pain tolerance it's incredible . Like ??? When he was just 4 the little guy "fell" probably like 20 feet twice and was like " It felt like it hurt but that can't be right " and just laughed it off .

He was beaten up several times and still got back up and tried to make friends with the bully .

He doesn't really fuss so much over his leg after his knee literally shattered .

[wastheheart]

tw: broken bones, gore, suicide.

Sometimes I think about how Esme's transformation was perhaps one of her coven's most painful bar Emmett and Bella's? The transformation itself is agony, but the corrections her body had to make in order to heal itself is just horrendous.

She didn't die from jumping off that cliff, but she was probably left with blunt force trauma and multiple broken or shattered bones, especially along her spine. And that's not even taking account of internal bleeding.

The amount of damage sustained for that venom to both heal and correct would have been agonising for her, and cruelly, more painful than her attempt itself.

She doesn't talk about her change often, but she can still hear the way her bones contorted and fused back together, remember the feeling of her spine realigning itself. Carlisle has never told her just how bad of a state she was in which he found her in, but from her change alone she feels she doesn't have to ask. Mainly for both their sakes.

[candy8448]

Febwhump day 13

"You weren't supposed to get hurt"

(Legend, Warriors, Wind)

TW: torture, blood, broken bones, waterboarding, beating, temporary main character death

Not a proper chapter but just ny notes i made for what o would have written

[hold-on-a-little-longer-whump]

For the “tropes to rave about” list: When two characters have been whumped and one insists on downplaying their injuries to take care of the other one :D

Oh where to begin???

This trope is so versatile, and the results really depend on the relationship dynamic between characters. The dozens upon dozens of sub-tropes? Are they mutually competent, student and mentor (i.e., parent and adopted child), siblings, lovers, best buddies, strangers, rivals, or (gasp) enemies???

Whatever the case may be, there's a lot of potential here.

Give me suppressed winces and forced smiles. Give me hoarse whispers of "promise you're okay?" and "are you sure?" Give me voluntary starvation and/or dehydration so their companion has the strength to heal. Give me an exhausted caretaker carrying their companion across unknown distances because "it's fine, I'm fine, just keep talking to me," even though each movement is agony. Bloodstained clothes turned sticky and stiff, hidden from view. Powering through the pain because oh God that's too much blood and their companion shouldn't sound like that. Broken bones going unset and grinding painfully with every movement. Give me stiff movements and piss-poor acting, but their companion is so unwell that they just can't see it.

Let's not leave out the lonely parts for our poor caretaker, though. Those moments when their companion is asleep and they try to treat their own injuries as silently as possible - but careful, careful, they need to ration their medical supplies because their companion needs it more than they do. Those moments when they say they're going to find some food or water, knowing there's none, and they just use it as an excuse to let the mask drop - just for a little while. The hours (or days) of silence, broken only by their companion's shuddering breaths. The melancholy of believing rescue is out of reach. The resignation of deciding to rescue themselves and their friend.

Then give me a companion that, once they're starting to improve, sees right through their caretaker's façade. That healthy glow now looks like a feverish flush on the face that's been hovering over them. The caretaker's movements are too sluggish to stop their companion's too-fast hands from grabbing that traitorous, bloodstained article of clothing. Now there's questions, too many of them, and their caretaker can only manage to give mumbled answers to two of them. Righteous anger. The guilt of rifling through their things, only to see that all of the medical supplies had been used on themselves. Hurried movements and oh-damn-that-still-hurts; but their caretaker just doesn't have the strength to stop them from pushing them to lie down and now the roles are reversed until help can arrive or they save themselves.

That, or the caretaker manages to keep up the strong and steady act until rescue finally comes. It's almost eerie, really, how their mind and body are in sync with one another until they're absolutely certain that their companion is in safe hands. Then the exhaustion and pain come crashing down on them all at once. Maybe they stumble. Maybe they collapse. Maybe several sets of hands catch them. Or maybe they go unnoticed until someone turns around and oh - oh that's why they stopped talking.

-Bonus-

Caretaker: You're gonna need a, b, and c. And maybe a crash cart.

Rescue Medic, confused: But... your friend's condition doesn't call for any of that stuff.

Caretaker, actively bleeding out with a completely straight face: It's not for them.

[inkblot22]

Snake

Jamil x afab!Gn!Reader, All characters are 18+, tw for manipulation, degradation, spousal/partner abuse, noncon/dubcon, mention of broken bones, mention of kidnapping and captivity, forced marriage, reader is suffering from stockholm syndrome, but not really? they're not well, mentally

Line divider by @morxhqq​ 

    “What? Why are you looking at me in that manner?” He had led them to a room, secluded from the party downstairs, but different from the weird little hut they’d been in beforehand, “I thought you’d understand what’s happening right now.”

    “I- I do, I just…”

    “Najima explained what would occur, didn’t she?”

    “She… she did, but Jamil-”

    They stopped talking. He didn’t do anything for them to stop speaking, but the look in his eyes was frightening. 

    They had been good. They’d done their best to smile and be sweet to his family, who was oh-so-happy that their son, usually overly serious and impossible to speak to, had managed to win a spouse. They played along as Najima had chirped on and on about how wonderful it’d be to have a voice of reason so her brother wouldn’t be so cruel and foolish as they had henna smeared along their fingertips, toes, and palms. They cut the cake with him, allowed him to force them into a dance that they were wholly unprepared for, even changed rings with him, and all so he could stare expectantly at them in his bedroom.

    If only they knew how cruel he could be. If only they knew he had broken their kneecap, keeping them in place for months as he confessed his affection every day. If only they knew how cruel he was, even to someone he supposedly loved. If only they knew how hard and stiff his hands were. If only his family saw the evil in their son and brother’s eyes, the cold calculation swirling within the grey storm…

    They would never.

    Their hair and eyes felt so heavy. They were staring at the bed like it was Kalim's pet, Almas, a tiger simply sleeping in wait for them to approach so he could devour them. That’s what their captor would do. He was going to do it. They were shaking in that awful, glitzy dress that Kalim had begged them to wear, saying that Jamil would like it and there was no true point in telling Kalim no, because he had a way of worming into a yes. Jamil was still staring at them. 

    Downstairs, they could still hear cheers and chanting, Jamil and Kalim’s family ever so drunk and happy in the union of their close friend and son and some stranger that he liked for some reason. They bit into their knuckle and pulled away, the taste of the henna sticking to their tongue as they glanced back at Jamil. 

    “Hey…” He muttered, walking towards them slowly, “My sweet…”

    “I…” They were breathing heavily, “I’m nervous.”

    As he smiled at them, they remembered when Kalim spilled their secret. 

    “Jamil, what do you think of _____? They have feelings for you.” Kalim had paused while playing mancala to blurt out.

    “What?” He raised an eyebrow and smirked, “I knew they were a creep, but I had no idea that I was their obsession.”

    There was no other option but to laugh it off, but when they were alone, Kalim asleep, they struggled to keep their sobs silent. He thought they were a creep, and they honestly were. They had been fantasising about how it would feel to be held by him. They definitely played with the ends of his hair when he wasn’t paying attention. They drew him into the margins of their notebook, tried to pretend they weren’t watching him, sweating whenever he would even glance at them, whole body heating with the flush of arousal. They were a creep. He was right.

    They were shaking again, tears ruining the carefully applied henna and makeup. He thought they were a creep and they married him. They were not only a creep, but an idiot.

    “Relax. I’m not going to kill you. I’ll even be gentle.” He smirked, “This time.”

    That didn’t help. They drew in a shaky breath and hugged themself.

    Jamil approached them and cupped their cheeks, wiping his thumbs under their eyes and pressing his lips against their forehead.

    “Would you like to take a bath together? Are you nervous about being naked?”

    “I don’t want to do this, Jamil.” They whimpered, “I don’t want to do this at all tonight-”

    He pressed his lips to theirs and they jerked back. He let them free, allowed them to back away until they landed in a puff on the bed. He followed, kneeling before them and pulling their sandals from their feet.

    “You must be sore from dancing. Let me help you.” He massaged their foot, hands squirming up their leg until he reached their thigh and pressed a kiss to the top of it, “Are you feeling any more comfortable now?”

    “I-I’m… Jamil…”

    He shushed them, smiling into their skin as he stood and leaned over them to press a kiss against their throat. He smelled like anise, crushed violently. He reached around their back and undid their zipper. He smelled like dirt, overturned to make room for the dead, soft in its displaced state. His lips trailed down their shoulder as his hands pulled the dress down. He smelled of molasses, dark as the night as it invaded their lungs and drowned them.

    They choked on nothing. Perhaps it was something, or they simply gagged on the air. Maybe it was their tears. Maybe they were choking on the unshed tears from Jamil’s hands pressing along the expanse of their back.

    “Do…” They began.

    “Hmm?” He tapped their nose with his, “Yes, love?”

    They could only imagine what he was looking at. A crying creep, sitting in an unkempt wedding dress with makeup streaking down their face. Someone he saw as a stalker, wearing clothing to indicate purity while they were anything but. As they imagined his disgust, the tears began once more, and he simply wiped them away.

    “What is it?” He hummed.

    “Do you really think I’m creepy?” Their eyes widened as his did, “Well… well, you wouldn’t be wrong, I am creepy, but are you disturbed by me at all?”

    He didn’t answer. He rucked their dress up along their hips and pressed another kiss into their throat. It burned. They were in pain. He pulled down the thin, gauzy undergarments they were given and threw them to the side and they shut their legs.

    Still silent, he straightened from the embrace and undressed himself. They looked away from the expanse of olive skin, flinching at every little noise his nakedness caused. When they felt him get back upon his bed, he laid next to them.

    “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s fine that you’re a freak.”

    They wished he would have punctuated that sentence with a quick blow to their neck to dislodge their windpipe or perhaps a punch to snap their ribs. He didn’t do anything of the sort. He instead rolled over upon them and hooked their legs around his hips. His hands massaged their legs, thighs rubbed at the joint. They sucked in a breath and he leaned down, elbows caging them in as he stared them down. 

    They could feel something turgid pressing against their inner thighs, something stiff pushing their skin out of place. They gasped and looked at his eyes, then looked away. His gaze was always so intense, cold and calculating, as if he was measuring everything he saw on a scale of purpose. Of course he was, that was something they knew all too well, considering what he did in the past.

    “This is so fast. It’s all so fast, Jamil…” Their voice was breathy, loopy in their hysteria, their nerves bubbling and rolling and resting in their chest.

    “It’s not too fast.” He hummed.

    He was probably right. As they stared up at his eyebrows, his makeup, immaculately painted as his cheeks darkened with an aroused flush, his nose, then the frown along his mouth, he tapped his body closer, leaning down to press his face into their neck and adjust his body so they could be one.

    His touch was beginning to tingle. Their skin crawled as the tip stuck to their dry skin. They flinched and yelped, pulling away from him, but not enough. His body was encapsulating, broad shoulders and hard lines as he lunged his hips forward. 

    At that moment, they wondered why he had decided he liked them back. They screamed, biting down on their lip as he stilled. The party was still going on downstairs. He thought they were a freak. Some kind of weirdo. They cried out as his hips slowly undulated. They were tearing up.

    “You feel… so wonderful…” He mumbled in their ear.

    Why was he praising them? Their thighs snapped into his hips and their ankles hooked around to press into his bare bottom. He thought they were a creep. Their hands clasped around his shoulders and neck and he pressed his lips against theirs. He said it was okay, but did he believe that? He used their next shout of shock to loop his tongue around theirs, sucking the organ into his mouth and keeping them close with a hand laced through their hair. 

    They had to stop thinking. Jamil’s thrusting had stopped being slow and smooth and had picked up to fast paced fucking. He pulled away from the kiss to bury his face in their collarbones and let out a shaky breath. They could hear the slickness between the two of them, wet smacking over the cacophony of the party below. They could almost hear him sigh.

    He hadn’t, though. He was too busy pumping his body into theirs. They could feel something roiling in their stomach and they grasped Jamil harder, mouth opening in a grimace.

    “Jamil…” They whispered, “Jamil, I think- I think something is wro-ow!”

    He wasn’t responding, body hunched over theirs as he gripped the sheets with one hand. The sheets were tearing. Maybe it was a good thing they weren’t being held by him, currently. Maybe they should be glad that he wasn’t tearing their skin instead. Something wet rolled between their breasts and slid around to their back, thicker than sweat. 

    When he leaned back slightly to wrap an arm around their waist and all the taffeta pooling there as well, pistoning his hips harder and faster at all but a bruising pace, they let out a weak, short whimper, muffled by a knuckle to their lips. He, too, bit back a shout as they squirmed in place, legs kicking in overstimulation as icy-hot juices spurting up his abdomen and clinging to the valleys and pits their bodies made together. 

    His eyes took a strange look as he held their knees together and abused their body. He felt worse like this. Maybe it was his proximity to the kneecap he had broken a while ago. Perhaps it was the look on his face. Their body felt all tingly and awful, increased by his slowing, stuttering thrusts. 

    The slowing was purposeful. He let go of their legs and pressed his lips to their shoulder, then dug his teeth into it, bruising the skin there and leaving a mark.

    His mark. He had marked them. They liked the feeling of being possessed by him. That was probably a creepy thought, but they really didn’t have to worry about him knowing. He couldn’t read their mind, probably. He rolled off of them and they looked away from his naked body, slipping slightly away from him before he grabbed their dress and pulled it down their body, away from their skin and left them bare. They looked down at the fabric, and he lifted their chin to look at them, eyes swirling with possible admiration or hatred or disgust. They couldn’t tell as he looked at their body as well, humming a soft tune as he brushed over their bruises, and then he spoke. 

    “Get some rest, love.”

    They couldn’t stop thinking of the small bloodstain in the skirt. Would he still think they were creepy if they cut it out and kept it somewhere as a reminder that they were no longer pure, together?

    Would that be creepy?

Part two: Charmer

[franks-mixtape]

Danny: "I'll NEVER leave you..."

Frank: "I'll see you when we Re-Spawn."

//Mun Luke: I just wanted to share this AWESOME piece of art that @therichestweeb re-did with my frank and danny!!! The gore in this piece is SOOOOO good and I fucking ADORE it. Frank and Danny's interactions don't always end with Danny getting the upper-hand... sometimes Frank does... but its unfortunately at the cost of his life usually. He does NOT go down without a fight.//

[undertale-writing-times]

Skelly hurts reader?

You didn't say how badly so I decided to go for different ones for all of them :D

Also, you didn't say who lol so uhhh yeah :) Hope you enjoy! :D

Nightmare: Nightmare didn't mean for it to happen. Honestly. He was so used to being able to grab people easily, without worrying about hurting them. His workers are the main ones. Sure, they were skeletons, but they were MAGIC skeletons which made breaking their bones much harder. So, when he grabbed his datemate while they were getting out of an AU, he didn't realize just how tight it was until they let out a loud pained sound and he could hear a bone snapping. When they got back to the hideout, he learned that he broke one of their ribs. He felt panicked, what the hell was he supposed to do about that?! He gets Error to go to a different AU, grab a Papyrus so he could use his healing magic then they kicked the Papyrus back out. From now on, he'll be much more careful with you. Humans were so damn squishy compared to them...

Dream: He was spending time with his datemate, and they were play-fighting while rolling around on the ground, both of them laughing from it. That was until he heard a crack and his datemate's laughter suddenly stopped. They let out a pained sound, holding onto their arm. He panics, quickly pulling away from them waving his hands "I'm sorry I'm sorry!" he reaches out to touch them, then pulls his hands back, feeling scared to touch them. What if he hurts them worse? He shakes his head and reaches out, starting to use his magic to heal the broken bone. He didn't even know how he did that, and he felt so bad. For a little while after this, he might be afraid to touch them, worried that he would hurt them all over again.

Ink: Ink was shocked when he heard his datemate shout in pain when they had been playing together. He didn't think that he was going too hard, or anything, right? Well, it seemed like they didn't agree. He could see a bruise already starting to form on their body, which was pretty strange. He pulls his hands back, looking at them blinking a few times then laughs a little, rubbing the back of his head "oops, sorry Y/n!" He wouldn't understand how serious it is until his datemate has to go to the hospital and they tell him that his datemate has a broken bone. It was in their hand, and then he realizes that he might have gone a little too far and he draws them something as a sorry. He's still trying to, you know, understand stuff like that.

Dusty: It was the smallest thing. They were cuddling together, his arms wrapped around his datemate's waist tracing shapes into their sides with the tips of his fingers, until they giggle shifting a little causing him to smile and he nuzzles them, purring softly, while pulling them closer but then they let out a soft hiss causing him to tense up, quickly pulling his hands back. He saw the smallest amount of blood on the tip of his finger, and he backs up from them quickly, knowing that he hurt them. They would have to calm him down, knowing it was a small cut on their side. He still feels really bad and hates that they got hurt. He goes to tell Nightmare he needs the tips of his fingers filed down again.

Killer: Killer had been tossing his knife at his bedroom door, something he did often, and that was why he told his datemate to always knock before coming in. They didn't this time, and when he threw the knife they threw open the door "Killer! I-" they stop when the knife went flying by, cutting their cheek causing them to tense. He tenses as well, his bones locking up then he sits up "Shit, Y/n, I told you to knock. Are you okay?" they reach up, wiping their cheek and look down at the blood on their thumb then they start to laugh, nervously but still laughing "Yeah, yeah I'm okay, wow that was close!" Killer didn't think that this was a laughing matter. Ahhh.

Yanberry: They did something to deserve it, at least in his eyes. They tried to run away, or they did something to get him really mad. He used a bone and broke their own. He walks over, leaning on the bone looking down at them, and smiles putting his boot down onto their broken leg. "Aww Y/n, are you hurt? That's okay! I can take good care of you." he scoops them up in his arms and starts to walk his grip a bit... too tight on them. "I'm sorry that you got hurt, that's why I told you that you need to stay inside! The outside world is so dangerous, and while you're with me, you'll be protected! You silly little human" he nuzzles his cheek against theirs, ignoring the whimper that came from them. They can deal with having a broken bone, and if they're good, he'll heal it but if they're not? Then he won't. He might even break it all over again if they keep being such a brat.

[takingback-thepenguin]

Starkid’s Nightmare Time Sentence Starters: Abstinence Camp

I’m not quite sure if anyone else has done this yet, but here is a list of sentence starters taken from Starkid’s Nightmare Time season 2 episode 2, part 2: Abstinence Camp. Some of the lines have been edited to fit as sentence starters, and feel free to change pronouns/add names/etc as you see fit. Tw: food, implied hangover, pregnancy (although no one is actually pregnant), murder, weapons (specifically axes), sexual themes/language, violence, broken bones.

“No need to run away, you little runaway.”

“The nightmare will get you soon.”

“No need to contemplate how deeply that you’re afraid.”

“Your life is a waning moon.”

“It’s a matter of time.”

“Don’t need to look far to find it.”

“Look behind you!”

“Hey what was that?”

“Boo!”

“You can run, but are you fast enough?”

“You can hide, but I will find you.”

“Hold your breath so I don’t hear you.”

“Take every precaution, babe.”

“D’you even understand, the danger that you are in?”

“You’re standing on shaky ground.”

“I’m in your head and you know it.”

“Nothing that you can do about it.”

“It’s all by design.”

“Right behind you.”

“Where’d he/she/they go?”

“Just run away if you want, if you dare.”

“He’s/She’s/They’re not quite human, that’s for sure.”

“If you think you’ll stand your ground, you better think twice.”

“Oh, the sound!”

“He’s/She’s/They’re bound to stab you in the back.”

“He’s/She’s/They’ve been surviving in the dark.”

“He/She/They is/are arriving ready or not.”

“You may have brought a gun, but it’s Hatchetfield!”

“Oh, the pain!”

“You know that he/she/they will deliver.”

“He’s/She’s/They’re not your daddy’s lumberjack.”

“Oh my god!”

“These woods belong to him/her/them.”

“We’re all at his/her/their peril.”

“If you see him/her/them then you crossed the line.”

“Get lost inside those demon eyes.”

“No good is left in him/her/them.”

“Not a god but a devil.”

“Oh my goodness.”

“_____? Are you alright?”

“Beat it, _____.”

“You got a tummy ache?”

“Was it the meatloaf?”

“I ate the meatloaf!”

“I didn’t eat anything.”

“I’m just a little sick this morning.”

“Are you...pregnant?”

“How many times do I have to tell you, _____? I’m not pregnant.”

“You think you’re getting out of this on that little technicality?”

“This isn’t fair!”

“I’d like to have an intelligent conversation, if you don’t mind.”

“In other words...shut up.”

“Seriously? You’re really making me do this?”

“You pumped for the cross-hike?”

“There’s a blast from the past.”

“We all gotta do our time.”

“Your time has come, little bro/sis/sib.”

“Oh, man. I’m gonna miss the Honey Festival.”

“This is abstinence camp.”

“It’s torture!”

“You’ll be laying in your bunk at night. Jumping at shadows.”

“Oh god. The axe.”

“I’m not getting any closer.”

“Get the hell outta my car.”

“You’re walking the rest of the way.”

“What if there’s an emergency?”

“Rules are rules.”

“The only screen here...is sunscreen.”

“I need those. My blood sugar is very low.”

“Fuckin’ raisins.”

“Fuck this place.”

“Oh god. Please, no.”

“_____! You’re here!”

“I was really worried about you.”

“I figured you might be too scared to reach out to others, so I did it for you!”

“I told everyone.”

“You started the rumors.”

“I have you to thank for all of this!”

“Alright, campers! Gather round.”

“Not today.”

“I’m stronger than everyone.”

“You wanna date me there’s a catch.”

“Keep your hands above the waist.”

“If you’re so, so lucky you might just get to first base.”

“Many have died along the way, they say.”

“You got no shot.”

“You’re cool enough to handle it.”

“Nothing gets out that pent-up frustration like...making a wallet.”

“You got a bit of an attitude.”

“Why don’t ya step into my office?”

“Fresh air and a warm breeze. That’s all the AC I need.”

“I’ve heard about you.”

“That was just a dumb rumor.”

“Hey. It’s okay. I got you.”

“Hold me, _____.”

“God, you smell amazing.”

“Look at what you did.”

“I oughta cover you in syrup.”

“Go make a wallet.”

“These raisins suck.”

“Here. Contraband.”

“How’d you get this in here?”

“I’ve seen you around school, right?”

“My brother says to pick a look and own it.”

“I heard a rumor about you.”

“It was an important exam.”

“Right. There was that one question that made everyone crack up. What was it?”

“They had to have known what they were doing.”

“I guess you heard the rumor about me.”

“I think whatever may or may not have happened in the bathroom, should stay in the bathroom.”

“Well, I should catch up.”

“Don’t let anyone find you with that. It’s against the rules.”

“Rules were made to be broken.”

“Wow. You’re not such a nerd, are you?”

“Get me in front of a chemistry set, you’ll see some seriously nerdy shit.”

“See ya around, _____.”

“There’s a deep, dark secret at the heart of this camp.”

“Not this story again.”

“You’re gonna scare the new kids.”

“They should be scared.”

“You won’t be laughing when he/she/they come(s) for you.”

“Stop, _____. I’m scared.”

“He/She/They is/are the thing that will not die.”

“Ah, baloney.”

“How do you explain the five kids who’ve gone missing at this very camp?”

“Look it up if you don’t believe me!”

“How convenient for you. They took our phones.”

“Well, then it looks like you’re gonna have to have a little faith for once in your life.”

“When you feel the hair stand on the back of your neck, don’t turn around.”

“Not funny, _____.”

“It’s certainly not scary. No mask. No axe. What is that? A canoe paddle?”

“I didn’t wanna frighten you too badly.”

“_____! Wait! I’m sorry!”

“God, I hate these nerdy prudes.”

“You’re really good at that, _____.”

“I don’t know how to say this, but... I just gotta. I like you, _____.”

“I like you too, _____. You’re a great friend.”

“But...what if we were more than friends?”

“I guess I’ll go make a wallet.”

“Ugh! This isn’t working! I feel like I’m gonna pop!”

“Fuck it. There’s no one around.”

“Hey! I’m making a wallet in here!”

“Hello? _____? Is that you?”

“Uh. It’s cold.”

“No...no way!”

“Nice costume, _____.”

“Come on, cut it out. It’s not funny.”

“Please! Put down the axe!”

“I’m headed straight to Hell.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“It’s this kinda reckless behavior that got you into trouble in the first place.”

“No, _____. You got me in trouble.”

“You’re the reason I’m stuck here.”

“I’m normal. You’re weird.”

“This whole place is weird.”

“I am not giving up on you.”

“Anywhere you go, I’ll follow.”

“Huh. Have you always been that...uh...jacked?”

“You should lose the suspenders.”

“But that’s my signature look.”

“This should be your look.”

“Well, I don’t have my glasses on, so I can’t give a fair assessment.”

“What’re you doing in here?”

“I’ll get outta your hair.”

“Don’t be stupid. There are separate stalls. Just take a shower.”

“Somebody! Somebody help!”

“What?! What is it?! Has someone else been murdered?!”

“Do you have a bar of soap over there?”

“So...you think it’s true?”

“The five missing kids? You think something like that could really happen here?”

“It’ll shock you...the secrets in this town.”

“Isn’t that a little far-fetched?”

“Guess we’ll never know...unless we put it to the test.”

“I was kidding.”

“Oh. Hahaha. Good one.”

“Maybe this stupid legend persists because none of these nerds have the guts to prove it’s bullshit.”

“I mean, we’d be...experimenting. For the sake of scientific discovery.”

“Isn’t science your thing?”

“Are you suggesting that we...maybe...consolidate down to one shower?”

“You know, we’d be conserving water.”

“Are you sure? You know...rumors spread.”

“I’m a loser. And you’re _____.”

“I thought we agreed whatever happens in the bathroom, stays in the bathroom.”

“I’m coming over there.”

“Okay. Come on over.”

“I’m surprised the rumors about you weren’t true.”

“Hey, cut it out.”

“Excuse me? What was that?”

“It’s not like that! I like _____. And I think she/he/they like(s) me too.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at her/him/them.”

“Don’t be stupid in front of me, _____. Not a good look for you.”

“Okay, I think we’re alone.”

“How far do you wanna go?”

“I’m ready. As long as it’s with you.”

“I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“You’re a great kisser.”

“I’m gonna unbutton my shirt now. Don’t lose your head.”

“Hey. What’s going on?”

“I was just trying to help.”

“I’m your friend.”

“You’re an annoying, self-righteous, nerdy prude.”

“The only good thing about this is that I won’t have to spend anymore time with you.”

“This is getting out of hand.”

“The crisis has been averted.”

“We buried the body. No one’ll ever find it.”

“It’s the woods. People go missing every day.”

“I just can’t help but feel responsible.”

“Hey. Look at me.”

“They need us.”

“We’re not going to let anymore of them down.”

“That’s it. I’m calling the police.”

“I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”

“You think they’re just come here and cart off the bodies?”

“They’re gonna find everything.”

“You ready for that? For the whole town to know what you did?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“But that’s what you are. Isn’t it? A dirty boy/girl/pal?”

“Yes...I’m a dirty boy/girl/pal.”

“You’re absolutely filthy.”

“Oh. My. Gosh. Oh my gosh!”

“_____ had something in her/his/their teeth and I was gonna lick it out.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just calm down and...uh...we’ll talk.”

“I’ll handle it!”

“This sucks. What am I supposed to do for the rest of the summer?”

“Well, you know what they say: Never waste a locked door.”

“Holy shit! He’s/She’s/They’re real!”

“We’re busting outta here.”

“_____, come back!”

“Stay away from me!”

“I’m not gonna hurt you, _____.”

“I wanna help you.”

“All I ever wanted was to help you kids.”

“Do you know where we’re going?”

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

“I mean, how big is this forest anyway?”

“My dad says this forest is as big or small as it needs to be.”

“Shh. Do you hear that?”

“Alright, campers. Keep up. I got a special activity planned for you. Hide and seek. Hold the seek.”

“Who’s there?!?”

“If you can’t keep your hands to yourself, I’ll cut ‘em off!”

“Oh! I think I broke my leg!”

“You looked real cool right up until the end there.”

“Tripped at the finish line. Story of my life.”

“Hey...I’m not into jocks.”

“Did it just get cold out here?”

“So, you see. I had to keep it a secret.”

“There’s something about this forest. Things grow here. They grow fast, and big, and...different.”

“It wasn’t what I intended.”

“Oh, god...it’s happening again!”

“Well, he/she/they make(s) it look easy.”

“Hey! Leave her/him/them alone!”

“I’m over here!”

“I’m right here!”

“It’s working, _____!”

“What are you waiting for? Kill them.”

“You’re gonna believe her/him/them over me?”

“You will do as I say, _____! I am your father/mother/parent!”

“Oh my god...what have you done!?”

“I think I understand you. Maybe we understand each other.”

“Come on, _____. Let’s get out of here.”

“Not so fast. The summer’s not over yet.”

“And that is how you weave a basket! Alright, everybody. Hop to it.”

“So...the camp directors disappear and we’re supposed to pretend nothing happened?”

“Like, this is weird. Right?”

“Just shut up and weave a basket.”

“I’m not gonna let a few bumps in the road spoil my summer.”

“We’re gonna have some good, wholesome fun. Or else.”

“Who put her/him/them in charge?”