#bc if he covers up all the scars or they all heal then where's the proof that he went through anything at all? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherryredstars · 5 months

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PLEASE WRITE SOMETJINT WHERE THERES A TRANSMASC READER AND MIGUEL FINDS OUT BC THEYRE AT THE BEAFH FOR TJE FIRST TIME AS A DATE AND READER TAKES HIS SHIRT OFF AND MIGUEL IS LIKE PANICKING LIKE “Reader? Did someone hurt you??” AND READER IS CONFUSED LIKE “what do you mean” AND THEN READER LOOKS DOWN AND NOTICES WHAT HES TALKING ABOUT AND PANICS TOO LIKE “Miguel I- didnt want you to see them-“ AND MIGUEL IS LIKE “What do you mean?? What are they??” AND READER IS COVERING HIS TOPSCARS LOOKING AT MIGUEL KIND OF WITH AN ASHAMED LOOK ON HIS FACE AND HES JUST STANDING THERE, AND FINALLY MIGUEL FIGURES IT OUT AND HES LIKE “are those top surgery scars?” AND READER NODS AND ITS JUST CONFUSION ALL AROUND AND THEN MIGUEL IS FINALLY LIKE “I support you” AND THEN JS GO FROM TJERE PLEASE

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Transmasc!reader

Warnings: Mentions to Top Surgery Scars, Fluff

Summary: Miguel is basically mesmerized by you.

A/N: I can’t tell you how excited I was when I got this request!

Word Count: 725 (Not Edited)

You’re so comfortable in your body.

It’s to the point that you forget that your body wasn’t always yours. That you had to give it those few moderations to make it the one you’ve grown so comfortable and proud of. It feels like the body you’re meant to have. That you deserve to have. And you love your body and your journey and how far you’ve come so much. It makes it hard to remember that some people won’t. That some horrible, miserable people think it’s disgusting and sinful and something you’ll wake up regretting some day.

But you don’t think about that. You know in your heart of hearts that you love your body and this is who you’re supposed to be. This is who you want to be. So you don’t really think when you pull your shirt off. You’ve reached that point in your life where you aren’t anxious about it anymore.

Or, you thought you were. You’re throwing your shirt to the side when you hear Miguel’s muffled noise of panic. You turn quickly to him in alarm, asking him if something’s wrong. You fuss over him, questions spilling out of you as you scan his body for injuries. But his eyes are zeroed in on you. More specifically, on your chest.

You follow his line of sight, staring down your body. Your eyes catch sight of the slightly raised and discolored skin and you cringe. You don’t remember the last time you did that. You let go of Miguel, stepping back a few paces. It’s weird-- to feel self conscious after so long of thriving in your body. Your hand itches at your side, and you instinctively bring your arm across to hide the scars. You instantly drop your arm though. I don’t need to be ashamed, you think to yourself. It is not my problem if my body makes him uncomfortable.

“Are… do they hurt? Are you hurt?” Miguel asks, the panic is still in his voice, but it has died down. It’s more confused, unsure of himself.

Your brows furrow until it clicks. He’s not judging you, he’s concerned. He… cares. “Wha- no. They’re healed. They’re from, uh… surgery?”

Miguel’s brows furrow too, eyes squinting as he looks more closely at them. They do look more precise, purposeful. They’re not jagged like knife wounds. They’re clean and simple. He can tell from the scar pattern where stitches used to hold the skin together. Surgery… top surgery. His eyebrows raise in understanding, nodding subtly to himself. He looks back to your face, feeling guilty for the guarded look you have.

“They… they look like lightning. El rayo.” He whispers, “Rayo hermoso.”

His words make you flush, whispering out a small thank you. He nods, not really listening. His eyes shine as he stares at you. Like he’s amazed by your presence. That your very being is something special. But, maybe your eyes are tricking you.

“Do they…” you start but you rethink your words. “If they make you uncomfortable, we can leave and go our separate ways.”

Miguel is quick to shake his head, stiff expression covering his face. He looks you in the eyes, something genuine and pure on his face. “No, they’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

You’re bashful when you smile at him, shaking your head as it faces the ground, “Good. That’s… good.”

A silence comes over the two of you as you process the moment. It’s broken when a beach ball falls near the two of you. You reach down and grab it, serving it back to the group of teens who wave their arms to gain your attention. Miguel is at your side when you stand up, his arm hesitantly slinking around your waist. You smile up at him, taking his sunglasses from the top of his head and putting them over his eyes. He smiles back at you, his grip getting stronger.

“Come on, it’s hot. Let’s go into the water.” You tell him, grabbing onto his hand as you try to lead the way into the ocean.

Miguel pulls you back, making you hit his chest lightly in the process. You stare up at him, leaning into his touch when his hand cups your cheek. He leans down, kissing the corner of your mouth lightly.

“Eres el hombre más guapo que he visto, mi rayo.”

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kiatheinsomniac · 1 year

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Can I ask for a short story where reader is also a half human vampire and she comes to the castle trying to sneek into the Belmont hold. She thinks the castle is still filled with vampires and just wants to try and save some of the dangerous knolage from them if she can. However Alucard is of course there and confronts her, at first thinking she's evil but after a short fight she explains herself abd he realizes she still thinks evil vampires controle the castle. Of course she gets hurt in the fight and he feels bad for having hurt her so he insists on caring for her wounds, no matter how embarrassing they may be (cut to the chest perhaps), and after they start to get to know each other she decides to stay and protect the hold, pretending she thinks it's just to dangerous to leave in the hands of Dracula's son so she had better help defend it just in case he goes evil. Of course she's actually fallen for him so this is a lie. He would fall for her as well, mostly due to her spunk and whit but she's beautiful to even with battle scars and he's finally not the only half vampire in the world. They would banter back abd forth over silly things like who's cooking or who's hunting and who's the more skilled fighter with a sword. That leads to sparring sessions and the eventual backing her into a corner and kissing her triumphantly confessing to her. They love to tease each other and it's like she's a female trevor belmont in a way. They are perfect together. Eventually he'd explain what happened between him and the brother and sister that betrayed him and she would respect him untill he was ready. Secretly though she's never been with anyone ever. No time when your a monster hunter. She even blames her loosing there first fight on her having just beaten a big hoard of beasts and traveling fir days with no supplies.

I hope you can work with some of this. No need to use it all. I hope you like the idea. I love your writing.

☾ ⋆ﾟ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: I decided to do this as headcanons bc there was a lot to work through <3

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: Adrian 'Alucard' Tepes

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: canon-typical violence, references to alcoholism, slight NSFW at the end

♡ Your first meeting with Alucard was far from friendly. He had caught you, someone who clearly looked like a vampire, lurking around the Belmont Hold that he had promised to protect. Vampires wishing to take up Dracula's war weren't unheard of and so clashes of swords were exchanged before any words.

♡ The misunderstanding had been cleared up once had had you on the ground and you snapped about keeping the Belmont Legacy safe from Dracula's vampires. The two of you had been very embarrassed over such a terrible misunderstanding and Alucard's guilt at having harmed you led to him insisting on taking you into the castle so that he could treat the large slash he had made across your chest, just beneath your collarbones.

♡ You had heard rumours of the child of Vlad and Lisa Tepes but not much beyond that his name was Adrian. Being a dhampir yourself, you were itching to ask of his whereabouts now that you were in the castle he had grown up in but you knew that dhampirs often kept their guard up about their nature for their own safety. You had spent the most part of your life hiding from vampires and humans alike who wanted you dead simply for being born. You had got it out of him eventually that he was Adrian Tepes and he had been alarmed that he had hurt you in treating you when you gasped.

♡ You had shared with him that you were also a dhampir and the two of you simply remained in awe and shock of each other at finally meeting someone else who was like you. As Adrian covered the slash across your chest in a paste that he said would quicken the healing and prevent infection, you held your shirt to your chest (your cheeks dusted with pink at having his hands on your chest) so he could then wrap your injury with bandages. He also offered you a salve to apply before going to sleep in one of the guest rooms and insisted on cooking a meal for you once you told him how long you had been on the road for.

♡ You had watched him skillfully cook with a sort of fascination, never having expected such hospitality from the son of Dracula who had staked those bodies outside. However, you would absolutely expect this from the son of doctor Lisa Tepes. Over dinner, the topic of a dhampirs' low life expectancy was brought up and Adrian had explained that he was protected by his father's power and influence. Despite the loneliness he suffered from having no friends his age and seeing his parents very little, practically being raised by his tutors and nurse maid, you envied him. You mother had not survived your birth and you were raised by your father who, as much as he loved you, found it so difficult to look into his dead wife's eyes every time he saw you. He had done his best, you knew, but you also knew how emotionally straining it had been for him to raise you alone. Other vampires found out about you eventually and your father had sent you away for your safety. Your caretakers later informed you that he had been murdered for harbouring a dhampir. You had spent the rest of your life on the run once your caretakers were killed by their fellow humans, until you were old enough to defend yourself at least.

♡ Adrian had felt so awful for you and yet here you were: a warrior, someone with such a sense of justice that you had come to protect the Belmont Hold from any vampire who might seek to destroy it, another dhampir in the world other than himself. He had insisted that you stay in the castle until you were fully healed from your injuries.

♡ When the day came that Adrian announced you would be fully recovered in two or three days, you had told him that you planned on staying, telling him that the Belmont legacy could not be trusted in the hands of Alucard, the reverse Dracula, alone. Really, it was just an excuse to stay. You had fallen fast and hard for the gorgeous dhampir who insisted on healing you and cooking for you. The two of you would endlessly tease one another back and forth and turn almost everything into a competition: hunting, cleaning, repairing the Castle and Hold, you name it.

♡ You had been dying to ask about the bodies outside and about the nights when you would hear Adrian drunkenly wandering the halls but you thought better than to pry into such difficult feelings. Instead, you kept him up late into the night by sitting around a fireplace and chatting with him or maybe trying to make some dessert in the kitchen together, even reading to one another. It left him tired enough to fall straight to sleep when he went to bed instead of being left alone with whatever thoughts or memories prompted him to drink so much. You were quite proud of yourself when you noticed that he was taking much better care of himself than when you first arrived.

♡ Alucard treasured those late nights with you. He had spent so much time being lonely: his friendless childhood, being left in the Castle by the first two friends he had ever made himself, having to kill the second pair of friends when they tried to kill him first, being the only person in this big, cold castle, being the only dhampir alive as far as he was aware. Yet, here you were: dozing off on his shoulder as he read to you, huddled up in blankets together. Your face was lit up by the warm glow of the fireplace and you were so utterly beautiful. He had fallen for you so quickly but he was so reluctant to give into such feelings after it had ended so terribly the last time. He had closed the book to cup your face and lean down until his lips were grazing over your parted ones, your fangs peeking out from behind your lips. He then withdrew and woke you by gently shaking your shoulder so that the two of you could go to your separate rooms to sleep.

♡ Another thing that Alucard loved about your company was sparring with you. You were a skilled warrior, relying on speed, agility and the element of surprise which was a new and refreshing style for Alucard to learn to defend against. You were taunting him more than usual today to try and provoke him into slipping up and yet it only put hearts in his eyes to see the way you smiled as you did so. You soon found your sword clattering to the ground and your back hitting a tree as Adrian's body pressed to your front, a hand on your hip pressing you back while the other hand cupped your cheek. "If there's a God, he's who I have thanked every night since we met." He murmured, watching your eyes widen at the confession and yet you made no move to escape him; instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck and gently threaded your fingers through his golden hair as he spoke, "I..." Tears built in his bright eyes as he struggled to get the words out. You were so precious to him, so warm and wonderful and he was petrified of losing you, terrified at the thought of you betraying his heart too, "I think I'm in..." His lips quivered and tears of blood brimmed his eyes and stained his cheeks. You didn't need him to finish to know what he was going to say, silently reaching up onto your toes to kiss the tears away, tongue flicking against his cheeks ever so slightly to clean them away as your nose nudged against his. "I'm sorry..." He whispered at his inability to get the words out.

"You don't need to apologise..." You reassured him as you simply tipped your head back, bearing your throat to him in an act of utmost vulnerability among vampires, making yourself the first to be vulnerable to try and make him more comfortable. His lips found your neck and you cradled his head close as his mouth trailed up over your jaw until his lips could crash onto yours.

♡ It didn't take long after that for him to tell you everything that had happened with the twins staked outside and you had done your very best to keep a fixed expression, not wanting him to think that you saw him as weak or tainted in any way because you could never do so. You loved Adrian with all your heart, you had made it your mission to tell him this at least twice a day since his confession and you assured him that you would respect his boundaries at all times, telling him that you would have infinite patience in waiting for him to be ready. A part of you was comforted by this wait too: you had never slept with anyone before, your lifestyle had never allowed it and you were beyond relieved to find that you would have so much time to get to know Adrian more intimately in other ways first.

♡ Your first time with him had almost gone completely south by the time he told you he was ready. Just as the two of you had completely stripped and you were cradled in Adrian's lap with your lips mapping out his neck, you found yourself being roughly flipped over and pinned down by your lover who wouldn't allow you to move an inch and he looked down upon you with wild eyes, full of fear and anger as he accused you of playing the long game to try and kill him. Despite your own fear, your heart ached for him and you knew that you had to be strong for him and reach out to him. You didn't fight the way he had you pinned down at all, allowing your body to go slack as you looked up at him. "I'm not here to hurt you, Adrian. I love you. I'm not going to attack you. You're in control." You watched as his temper settled down and felt how his bruising grip on your wrists slackened. "You're in control, no one's going to hurt you. It's just you and me and I'm giving all control to you." He had let out a sigh and leaned forwards to lay over you and nuzzle his face against your neck, apologising for his reaction while you assured him that it was alright and he hadn't hurt you.

"Can you say it again?" His words were barely a whisper.

"I'm giving all control to you..." You repeated, "You're in control, Adrian, you're safe." The soft moan he let out by your ear caused heat to pool in your belly as he began to murmur over and over how much he loved you between kisses.

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🏷️@involuntaryspasms @welcometomordor @writing-noah @signyvenetia @brideofalucard

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onyourowndaisymae · 1 year

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Yoo I have two request which I’ll send the other one separately but I am in an ANGSTY mood rn sooo yah also been binging ur headcanons and stuffs and I just love the way you write ?? It’s so entertaining lol

AnywY the actual request: can you write like a one shot or headcanons if you prefer of mc who is struggling after the belphie incident ?? Like they feel like they’ve mostly forgiven him and can act normally around him and they’re friends and take naps together but sometimes the flash back just HITS THEM and they have nightmares and panic attacks that can be so bad sometimes someone needs to get Simeon to calm them down. Maybe something of how the brothers react/treat mc and belphie? Idk I’m just thirsting for like MEGA ANGST rn bc my dad made me cry little bit lmao 😭

it comes at night

hello anon! i'm terribly sorry you're in such an angsty mood, though i thank you for all the love-- and for sending this request right as these ideas were on the front of my mind. it genuinely makes me so happy to see people enjoying my work, and it makes all the writer's block and such worth it. i cannot express enough how much i love seeing all the comments, reblogs, etc. as people engage with my work.

anyways. i'm not sure how i feel about this piece, especially with how LONG it ended up being, but maybe that's just my mushy brain talking after looking at it too long. regardless-- i hope you enjoy (well, y'know, in like a sad and angsty way).

synopsis: you thought you would be able to move on like all the others. your body was healed, your anxiety tucked neatly behind a mental wall built to keep you safe. yet something in you was stuck. you couldn't just move on. you were trapped in a battle between your friendship with belphegor and the fear gnawing at your brain as you remembered what exactly he did to you. when the dam finally breaks, your whole brain floods with terror, until you're swept away with it. nobody can save you now.

genre: angst, no happy end, just a big ol spoonful of sadness

word count: ~3.1k

content warnings: chapter 16 spoilers, graphic(?) discussions of death, depictions of panic attacks, nightmares, mc progressively getting worse from fear + lack of sleep

it's funny how time works.

you'd been around your fair share of years. you’d grown, you’d changed, you’d spent your entire life looking toward the future you had planned. then you, a mere human, were yanked into an unfamiliar world. you spent an entire year in the devildom– a year that simultaneously dragged on and flew by– and came out the other side a new person. a single year in the devildom has changed you more than the human realm has your entire life. time was a mischievous thing, always leaving you chasing behind in a fruitless pursuit of something you’ll never quite understand.

but, she also brings blessings with her. they say that time heals all wounds. you've always agreed with that sentiment. scraped knees and adolescent broken hearts are swept away with the passing days, trailing further and further behind you until one day you forget to look back and remember them. the pain scribbled down on diary pages or cried into pillow cases no longer stings like a fresh burn. these things are nothing but scars now. time has a special way of patching you up, of rubbing your back until the tears clear up and you can finally see again. that is how it's always been.

where is time when you need it?

she hasn't quite abandoned you, this much is true. cuts and bruises heal over the passing days. your hair and nails still grow. your body still changes, slowly but surely, marching onwards week after week. yet your mind is trapped in stasis. you struggle to break free, but at times the rot consumes you whole, until you’re crying under the covers and begging from respite from the memories.

on the worst nights, you find yourself in the attic again, watching the door between you and belphegor swing open. you watch yourself march towards death.

you can still feel his hands around your neck, digging his claws into your fragile human skin like you're made of sand. the scent of blood-- your own blood, on the floors, on the walls, leaking from your torso and staining your clothes a permanent maroon-- still clings to the inside of your nose. even your wildest dreams could not erase the sight of his smug grin, the way his eyes lit up looking at your battered body.

no one person should have to carry the weight of realizing they're going to die. that's what you thought about when your body hit the bottom of the stairs, when belphegor tossed you down from the attic with a harsh laugh and punted your limp body into the entrance hall. you thought about how unfair this all was. you were just trying to help. you thought you were doing the right thing.

one of the worst parts of your untimely demise was watching the others react. the voices pool together in your head, like the colors of the rainbow twisting together on the surface of an oil spill. asmo's panicked shriek blends into satan's angry shouts, desperate to understand what's going on. lucifer's yelling almost drowns out the fearful cries coming from levi, held back by a very silent beel.

but above all of that, you remember mammon. your first man, the first demon who took a chance on the defenseless little human, rushing to your side and gathering you in his arms like you were about to break. his hand on the side of your face, the tears streaming down his face, the shaky, desperate voice assuring you that you'll be okay and begging you to hang on, okay? please don't leave me. you can't remember if he was shaking or if it was your body's last ditch effort to stay conscious-- maybe both. your trembling fingers intertwined with his. words came out of your mouth, and you're not sure what exactly you said, but he only cried harder in response.

and then, as your eyes shut for the final time, you woke at the bottom of the attic stairs. you had cheated death.

your price? you had to carry the memories.

the world kept spinning. days passed in the devildom. you returned to school, kept on top of your homework, spent your days in the house of lamentation alongside the seven demon brothers. you even got to know belphegor as he navigated his return home. he quickly grew fond of you. that, in and of itself, was jarring. but you returned each and every smile with one of your own. his actions were rooted in his own grief for his sister, you knew, and for that you could not fault him. you helped him repair the severed relationships between him and his elder siblings, stitching the family back together like a prized quilt until the seams of betrayal were sufficiently hidden.

time is a traitorous bitch. why did she choose now to leave your wounds bare and bleeding?

everyone moved on but you. everyone got to wake up in the mornings without a nagging anxiety holding them back. the others could hang out with belphegor day in and day out without a growing feeling of dread popping up when you think you're safe.

he killed you. he was grieving. your blood drenched the entryway floors as he laughed. he has grown. you watched the light leave mammon's eyes as you slipped away. belphie has been nothing but kind to you since that day. you fucking died.

you wish your mind could pick a side. did you forgive him, or did you resent him? was he your friend, or your killer? these answers evaded you in the dead of night as you struggled to sleep again. it was becoming more common for you to lose hours of rest to these nagging fears. who are you? are you even you anymore? did the switch in timelines scatter your atoms across countless universes, leaving the you that looks back at you in the mirror nothing more than a hollow shell?

you thought that you could keep your mind on a tight leash, keep your cards close to your chest as you continued to live with the brothers. you were wrong.

the first meltdown came during a nap with belphie. you had grown to trust him-- you thought you trusted him-- enough to sleep around him. he'd coax you every so often into an afternoon nap. always in the light of day, always your choice. and for many afternoons, you were perfectly content with this arrangement. belphie was warm and cuddly, a perfect companion for a lazy afternoon. he had this way of making you feel safe as you slept-- the nightmares couldn't come when he was snuggled up next to you, when you were sure his actions were ones of affection and not another trick to gain your trust.

one afternoon, while the sun was beginning to set, you stirred under the warmth of the blankets. the body next to yours lingered close, steady breaths lulling you back to dreamland. you could stay like this forever, you thought.

and then you felt it. the gentle graze of a familiar cow tail against your skin.

something inside of you, a dam you didn't even know was there, snapped. a hot flash of panic rose up your throat as your whole body jerked away from the feeling. your eyes shot open and you found yourself in the last place you needed to be right now: the attic. you pulled yourself out of bed before your brain could catch up. colors flashed across your vision as a consequence. you whipped around, disoriented and upset, and spotted a sleeping belphie in the bed where you once were.

a sleeping, demon belphie.

the familiar curve of his horns made your throat spasm as you tried to breathe. the colors flashed in your vision again-- oh god, what a terrible time to be left defenseless-- as your brain tried to drag you back to that day. you could practically see his face shift from relief to malicious, insidious joy as he began to attack you.

"hehe... does it hurt? finding it hard to breathe? i'm sure it must be very unpleasant."

please. please no.

" i have to say, seeing a human face twisted in pain like this... why, it's so much fun that i can barely stand it! i... i can't contain the laughter!"

you weren't quite sure when you hit the ground, but it was loud enough to wake belphegor from his slumber. he peeled his body off the mattress, slow and dazed, as he looked for you.

"mc? what're you... what's going on?"

please don't. this can't be happening.

your lungs collapsed from the weight of your own panic. you gasped-- once, twice, as your vision went in and out. were you bleeding? your hand loosely brushed at the front of your clothes, but couldn't process whether that was blood or your vivid imagination. were you even breathing? your head felt light and heavy at the same time. the wires in your brain were all crossed, sending both resuscitation and shutdown signals to each part of your body. this feeling... this was too familiar.

were you dying?

"mc, what's going on?"

you came face to face with belphegor. your friend, your killer. the demon who had lured you up to this very attic to kill you, now gripping your shoulders as interrogated you inches from your face.

you screamed. you screamed until your brain shut off completely, leaving you in an inky pit of darkness as your consciousness slipped away.

the house was in disarray for several days. apparently, lucifer came in shortly after you passed out, mammon at his heels, to save the day. you woke up later in his bed, the room cold and empty, with a throbbing head and a tear stained pillow. you stumbled out into his office to find him at his desk, lost in some paperwork like always. the solemn look he gave you as your eyes met told you everything you needed to know.

from this day forth, your fear was now your constant companion.

nobody in the house of lamentation knew how to move forward. not you, not the brothers, not the widening gap growing between you all with each passing day spent in emotional limbo. finally, lucifer called everyone to a family meeting where, over the course of an hour or two, everyone came to an agreement to acknowledge what had happened and why, promised to be mindful of this trauma that you're carrying, and move forward like you requested.

silent days slowly but surely filled back up with laughter again. the brothers came back to your side at their own pace-- asmo first, within a matter of hours, then mammon shortly after, then the others in the following days.

belphegor was the last to come around. his silence spoke volumes about his guilt. he had no clue how to comfort you. he'd do anything to repent for his actions. yet that was the way that life worked, didn't it? some actions simply cannot be undone.

but you didn't let that stop you. despite the panic that closed your throat every time you saw him for the next month, you slowly earned his friendship again. you assured him that the attic incident was a one time thing, the remnants of a lost nightmare blending into your consciousness as you awoke.

until it wasn't a one time thing.

the nightmares crept up on you. the first one happened, of course, that same night, as you thrashed and wept into lucifer's pillows. then a week later, another. a week and a half after that, another. the frequency eventually became higher and higher, until you started planning your sleep schedule (or lack thereof) around your new insomniac tendencies. but even you couldn't manage to stay awake forever.

on a bad night, you'd wake up in tears, crying weakly to yourself as you tried to coax yourself back to bed. on worse nights, you'd shoot up out of bed, limbs tingling in fear, opting to spend the rest of the night in the common room until the others woke for the day. on the worst night, you finally broke. you shattered worse than you could have imagined.

you finally collapsed into bed, body shutting down after a three days of minimal sleep. you were starting to get shaky from the lack of rest, and your lack of appetite was upsetting the others. you crawled under the covers and let your brain slip out of your hands and off to dreamland.

what a fool you were to think you'd get by without nightmares.

visions of demonic teeth tearing at your flesh filled your head. you tried to run away, tried desperately to wake yourself up, but their claws sunk into your flesh. the pain was vivid, was real. memories of your death lived underneath your skin, ready to resurface in the dark of night when there was no escape. you fought back as best you could, kicking and screaming and trying to run, but you were no match for the supernatural strength of your demons. you eventually gave in, an act of learned helplessness, and surrendered yourself to your worst nightmares.

you woke up choking on your own tears. heaving, gasping breaths tried to save you, mixing with coughs as your body struggled to hang on. the tears finally gave way to the memories-- hot blood dripping from your torso, screaming faces begging you to stay, your head going fuzzy as your vision followed--and your screams escaped without a fight.

a mixed cacophony of voices came flooding in the room. you'd be touched by the gesture, seeking comfort in the arms of your dearest friends, if your brain hadn't reminded you that they were demons as well. nightmarish beasts with fangs and claws, predators built to rip your soft flesh from your bones and leave you to die like roadkill.

you felt a hand on your shoulder. who's was it? you could not tell. your first and only instinct was to scream for mercy, hot tears streaming down your face as mammon's hurt expression moved back out of your line of sight. your chest heaved with effort. it felt like your whole body was caving in on itself. you didn't even realize you were shaking as you curled your body into a ball. your side hit the mattress with a pathetic thud and you wept, bitter and fearful, as a panic attack kept you trapped in its grip.

you don't know how long you stayed curled up like that, wordless cries echoing from your room and into the hallway, but eventually the sound of approaching footsteps caught enough of your attention to forget the panic, even if just for a moment.

"hey, it's okay," a familiar, comforting voice approached, cutting through the fear like a moonlight on a stormy night. "mc, it's me, it's simeon. it's going to be okay."

you felt the bed shift under the weight of someone sitting down, and you blindly threw your body at the person before checking to see if it was really him. it took you a few moments to raise your head, and when you did, you saw him: simeon, your angel, blue eyes full of worry as he met your gaze.

you cried in his arms until you fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

the next morning was miserable, to say the least. breakfast was tense. they all watched you like a hawk, like you were a powder keg about to explode with one wrong move. you couldn't blame them. you were afraid of your own emotions, and on some level, you were afraid of them. your trauma was making you afraid of the very people you cared about the most. these brothers had welcomed you into their home, took care of you as you adjusted to life in the devildom, and yet you couldn't hold eye contact without breaking in to a cold sweat.

the only person who did not watch you was belphegor. he was nowhere to be found during breakfast, nor dinner, nor breakfast the following day. you tried to seek him out, but somehow the avatar of sloth had become a skilled sneak in his silence.

you finally caught him alone on day four of radio silence. you both had stayed home without realizing the other had also skipped school that day-- you, from the lack of sleep eating at your brain, and belphegor, with his usual routine of missing class to nap at the house of lamentation. he was curled up on the couch in the common room, basking in the warmth of the fireplace in his slumber. you decided to wait for him to wake up. you sat down on the couch opposite of the one where he rested and watched him, quietly, like he'd disappear if you dared to blink.

creepy? yes. but your brain was long ruined by sleep deprivation and gnawing anxiety to worry about such trivial things.

when he finally stirred, you gently called belphegor's name. he took a moment to finally look at the source of the voice, but when he did, his body froze as the two of you made eye contact. a few moments passed in silence. finally, he sat up and began to make a move to leave.

"wait."

he stopped, but his gaze did not meet yours. you rose from your seat and joined him on the couch. the youngest pulled his legs in, twisting his body into a defensive little ball, and countered your next sentence before you could even open your mouth.

"you shouldn't be here with me."

"i think i'm old enough to make decisions for myself."

he shifted uncomfortably in the silence. you spoke again.

"i miss you. and i'm sorry."

he scoffed to himself and stared at the fireplace. "don't know why you think you should be apologizing to me. i'm the one that's the problem."

"you're not a problem, belphie. i never meant to make you feel like one."

every hair on your body stood on end. your hands trembled against your wishes, so you sat on them to stay focused. you had to do this. you had to keep moving forward.

"i hurt you, mc. you're afraid i'm going to do it again."

you sighed-- it came out more shaky than you would have liked-- and looked down. how had it come to this? how had someone you'd grown to hold so dear become a stranger again?

"i don't want to stop being friends. i don't like when you avoid me."

"you still get nightmares, don't you?"

you pause. his icy gaze on the side of your head sent you into a cold sweat.

you smiled-- it felt more like a grimace, personally-- and prayed it didn't come across insincere. your fingers carefully intertwined with his. he met your gaze. you were thankful he couldn't see the way your chest tightened when you made eye contact.

"i'm okay, belphie," you lied.

this fear was going to be the death of you.

#i cannot tell if this is good or not i've looked at it for hours #ask answer #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me writing #obey me fanfic #obey me angst #obey me brothers #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me chapter 16 spoilers #otome

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poetthewriter · 5 months

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HAII the one and only baby girl here

imma send this ask again bc i sent it on my laotop and I literally never have any of my asks go through on my laptop so

i was wondering if you could write vamp!mumbo and a winged reader where reader like uses their wings to protect mumbo from the sun:0

ALSO HAI WELCOME MOONY ANON

Hope ur doing well :3

-🪶

Feather! im so sorry if this is bad and or short i hope its okay<3

VampireMumbo x GnWingedReader

Sunburned

You two sit in the entrance of your home putting on shoes, Mumbo puts on his fancy dress shoes well you put on your own, you silently laugh as you see his shoes wondering why you love is always so dressed up even in this hot weather.

You would think that being a vampire is hard enough not being able to be In the blistering sun but wearing something so hot in this weather makes you think you fallen for a mad man.

Finishing the laces on your shoe you and Mumbo walk out the door and you follow along skipping up behind to catch up with him, a black umbrella rests atop his shoulder and covers his skin, a shadow falls down covering his figure that smiles down at you.

Scars litter your boyfriends hand from all the times he accidentally let himself be hit by the sun, a red tint finds its self on the newer slaps of the sun and a calmer brown rests on the old.

The two of you chat hand in hand deciding where you need to go for what items and any other options and ideas come to mind but something seems to not like your voices. The wind howls as it gets stronger, the once hot air chills at it hit the two of you back, although the heat settles down the sun still blisters down on you and not so lucky for Mumbo the wind doesn’t seem to like him.

As the bursts of air pounce down on you and Mumbo his umbrella fly's out of his grip, as soon as his cover goes flying his skin reacts, yelps and the sound of sizzling are all you can hear, it feels like everything is in slow-motion. you act quick and rip open you wings hovering them over mumbo, he's doubled over skin burnt and different groans and yaps are heard from him.

you swoop down and pick him up gently with encouraging words, praise well as worried remarks like asking if he is okay and for him to hold on. with the amount of pain he is in he can hardly respond so you carry him surrounding your wings around his fragile body well sprinting back to the house.

skirring around you search and trash the house, Mumbo lays in bed and jolts around at the feeling of pain, ointments, creams, aloe, pills and water all lay around as you franticly try to calm him down, thrashing and throwing you grab Mumbo's non burned cheeks and force him to look at you, you look in his eyes and slowly kiss him as his eyes start to water.

you break from the kiss and beg him to stay still and he tries his best as he holds himself back from crying and yelling. you slowly tilt the water at Mumbo's lips so that he can swallow a pill for the pain, and he chugs it all some water slipping down twitching lips, his lips are not the only thing twitching any more, as you apply the creams and ointments he moves around even till you put the bandages on.

after applying the substances you sit next to the bed holding one to his unburnt finger humming and having a one sided conversation. he slowly drifts off to sleep and the tears stop falling, you sigh out after not realizing you have been holding your breath, you shutter slightly and Mumbo's movements but decide to get up and laydown on the other side of the bed after turning off all the heat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

its been a few days since the burning and Zed came over and took mumbo to his place to heal him with some remittees that he made, you haven't been able to talk to him for a few days and it was taking a toll on you seeing your love in so much pain haunted you, you sit on the couch with your hands holding up your hand and a knock bangs through the house, you assume its zed coming to report or a hermit coming to check in but it better then any of those, Mumbo stand at the front door with a new umbrella in his hand and a healed body>

You don't run to mumbo scared you still might hurt him but when he gently smiles at you, you cant help your self, you walk over and hold his tired face. you look at him with sorrow filled eyes and he only has one response and that is to kiss you, you feel his lips on yours and all of you angst and sadness washes away in to the air. looking at him he looks and smiles at you as you continue to stroke his cheek....

"You stupid bat...." you say with quite voice and pull him in as if you will never let go.

#hermitcraft x reader #mcyt x reader #hermit x reader #hermitcraft fanfic #mumbo jumbo #mumbo x reader #mumbo jumbo x reader

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lostinwalmartmymomleftme · 3 months

Note

What r ur dreamswap headcanons :3

Have to redo this bc Tumblr hates me:

* 7 each

* Human Ver. Specific

Dream

Dream 100% has something that’s dedicated to Ani, (hospital, orphanage, medical organization, etc.)

To add more depth to him being Latino, I choose to believe he’s Chilean-American

He doesn’t like to be touched, but would never correct anybody on it because he doesn’t want to offend anyone and he doesn’t view it as a priority or concern

Only has one scar and it was prior to the incident (tm), nightmare, dropped a bowl, and a shard of the ceramic cut dream deep enough to form a scar, and subconsciously Dream doesn’t want it to heal, so it doesn’t fully heal, though it is fairly faint, it’s on his wrist directly above the bone

He’s probably some form of genderqueer, yeah, doesn’t know it and refuses to look into it because he just doesn’t view it as important, he probably goes by pronouns

His magical blondness, skips a few streaks of his hair, so he has black streaks that he dies blonde to match the rest of his hair

Canonically multilingual, speaking both English and Mandarin, though I would like to add that he can fluently speak Latin, modern Spanish, and French

Bonus: Dream does that OCD thing (w/o actually having it) where all of his pens when they’re laying on his desk are at the exact same place, in a perfect little row

Nightmare

He sits in trees and people watches, like he sits up in trees, kind of in forests and watches people on picnics and fun little family outings, and tries to imagine what his life would be like if it hadn’t been what it is

His hair is extremely heat damaged, because he totally straightens it (it’s the only thing about him that’s allowed to be straight /j)

Extension on him canonically being Latino: I think he’s Peruvian-American

For some reason collect bottle caps (like the little metal ones you get on alcohol bottles (he doesn’t drink though))

He has a peanut allergy

Despite being an insomniac, whenever he does actually sleep, he starfishes

He doesn’t like looking in mirrors, there’s anything wrong with it, there isn’t really reason why he doesn’t like it, he just find it unsettling and he covers the one in his room with a blanket

Ink

He has one of those canopy beds, but the actual canopy part is custom painted and embroidered (by himself) with band logos, TV show logos, characters he likes, etc.

He is really bad at spelling, professional emails are more like word scrambles

If someone were to ask him to draw them, he would draw them, claim he made mistake, tear it up, then draw a stick figure, and give it to them

Usual Ethnicity one: he actually doesn’t know his ethnicity beyond being Latino, but he is Cuban-American

He’s emo and claims his favorite color is black, but it’s orange which is equally as bad

He has no real gauge of his own pain tolerance and usually has to be forced into medical situations by other people, usually Dream when he reports back to him

Ink’s allergic to bleach and ant bites

Cross

He hasn’t had his first kiss

He uses Old Spice cologne in the classic scent. But he does it to a NAUSEATING level.

He’s Irish, ethnically. I don’t make the rules.

He’s minorly lactose intolerant

This man owns like five Tamagatchis

He makes really good bread for some reason? Like this man SLAYS a sourdough

Cross uses 3-in-1 bodywash

(This is a Tamagatchi if you don’t know)

Blue

This man wears hair curlers to bed 100%

He’s really bad at math

Probably advocates for eating healthy (being a yoga instructor, possible influencer)

Blue is so ADHD to me

American-Italian/Portuguese

Has never made a bed in his LIFE

Blue seems like the kind of man who would burn water

Error

Clean freak, he prefers to keep the house clean, but it ends up a mess anyways because Cross and Nightmare always end up messing it up

Easily the best driver of the Meme Squad

His lock/homescreen is an inspirational quote

LOVES the rain, finds it calming and loves the smell of it, but hates getting caught out in the rain (loves the aesthetic, hates the actual thing)

Maybe American-Moroccan?

He likes dark fantasy books

Was top of his class when he had been in school, prior to his amnesia

Kevin

Can read. (Can’t write (no thumbs))

Can and does steal from the meme squad

Bonus:

How long I think it takes DS to get ready in the mornings:

Dream takes a solid hour and a half

Blue takes an hour

Nightmare takes 45 minutes

Cross and Ink take 15-20 minute for the sake of layers

Error and Finch take like 5 bc they dress really basic

dreamswap by @\onebizarrekai

#dreamswap #dreamswap dream #ds dream #dreamswap finch #ds finch #ds error #dreamswap ink #dreamswap error #ds cross #ds ink #ds nightmare #ds blue #dreamswap cross #dreamswap nightmare #dreamswap blue #dreamswap headcanons #ds headcanons

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tacky-jack-with-a-hat · 2 months

Note

May we have angsty Texas hc’s? 👁️👁️

*🩴*

*🩴* -thanks for the free sandal.

This made me feel sad when writing it. Some stuff is implied. I may have projected.

Tw: Trauma, implied abuse, angst, (tiny amount of comfort at the end)

• He will occasionally stumble into confusion and horror when something accidentally reminds him of his past but he refuses to speak about it and pretends nothing just happened. Usually he'll cover his neck during the moment and will refuse to speak but he'll wait until he's home to start bawling.

•Drinks too much when he's unhappy but at least Loui's there to comfort him.

•States who are more observant (like NY, and Loui) are aware of his "weird moments" where he shuts down verbally, his face stiffens, his fingers figit, and he'll just stop making eye contact. When this happens the states try to cheer him up by taking him to parties or rodeos but this usually leads to Texas becoming overwhelmed and tense but he fakes the enjoyment to get out of the party sooner.

•Texas is afraid of getting a diagnosis. He doesn't like being seen as "crazy" and he doesn't want a piece of paper to confirm it because then he'll have to confront the idea that everything terrible that's happened to him was because he was "broken" and he "deserved it".

•The only state that knows what Texas is going through is Texas. Specifically, Austin. Compared to the other Cities, Austin is more open and is trying to encourage Texas to open up to others. That's why Austin meets up regularly with a therapist and has tried to get Texas to look for a diagnosis. Texas is still afraid but is trying his best to learn.

•However, Texas and Austin's world collides whenever it comes to Cali. Texas and Cali argue a lot with the stress of some arguments lingering for days and hindering his progression. Austin has tried to explain to Cali that Texas needs time to heal before he can listen but Cali himself is tired of Texas belittling him and making him feel worthless. Austin tries to comfort and support both but ends up like a child in a custody battle, with both sides thinking he loves the other state more.

•Texas is jealous of Cali. It's unclear why but something always tells Texas that Cali has it all figured out and how lucky he is to be an "outsider" who doesn't care what people think. Although it's obvious to everyone else Cali has the emotional stability of a worm in a blender.

•Of course it may be obvious that Texas's parents weren't that great, but neither was his education. He was sent to this religious boarding school to correct his "weird" behaviour but it was unnecessarily cruel. He wasn't allowed to talk to anyone and spent most days staring at a wall. One punishment was to tie his hands behind his back to stop him flapping them when he was stressed. Now his hands only shake or tighten to a fist.

•Texas doesn't have any noticeable scars, but when he feels his bare skin he feels the difference. He doesn't look down at his body and tries to change as fast as he can for this reason.

Bc writing this physically hurt me here's some comfort:

•Texas is a horse girl and the states will buy him horse figures and souvenirs. Everytime he gets one he'll stare at it. He has a large play set of a horse ranch in the statehouse as he can't have his real horses around.

•He and Cali dance to Beyoncé's new album. It doesn't matter if they're in a fight, they'll stop to dance anyway.

•He's a hug magnet. When he lets one state hug him, others will join.

#wttt angst #wttt texas #wttt #welcome to the table

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chvoswxtch · 1 year

Note

Hey lovely

Can I get a Margarita with a side of inspiration? How about this quote: 'If I could, I would kiss away all of your scars.' It's kinda like that Taylor Swift line from 'Willow' - 'Show me the places where the others gave you scars.'

And if it's not too much trouble, could Mr. Murdock or Mr. Castle hook me up?

Thanks for inviting me, love! I'm delighted to have stumbled upon your account. I adore you, always <3

my darling nes!!!

thank you so much for this request. i had frankie hook you up for this one, bc i feel like this song fits him really well. i hope you enjoy! 🥂

blurb below the cut

willow

show me the places where the others gave you scars

Frank hated his scars. They were a constant, physical reminder of the hell that he had endured, and had unleashed on this world in his bloodthirsty need for vengeance. They were the evidence etched into his flesh that his nightmares weren’t just dreams, they were haunting memories. Even though the wounds had long ago healed, he still felt the phantom pain when he looked at them, as if they had been ripped open all over again.

Sometimes it felt like a lifetime ago. Sometimes it didn’t feel real at all. Sometimes, he could trick himself into forgetting any of it had happened.

Until he looked at them.

He especially hated you looking at them. You were the one semblance of peace he had found amidst the wreckage he had crafted, and he never wanted to taint you with the demons that lingered beneath the crests and carvings that marked his skin. Frank had given you the briefest of summaries about his past, but he knew that you knew more than you let on. You never asked him for any detail, wanting him to be the one to offer it if he felt comfortable, but he had shown the world what he really was a long time ago, and that proof wasn’t hard to find.

Frank only made love to you in the dark. Since he was an early riser and woke up before you, he was always dressed by the time your eyes were just starting to flutter open. He never let you see him in his most vulnerable form. Hearing and reading about what he had done was one thing. But being face to face with it, being able to authenticate it with your touch, he was scared of that. He didn’t know what you would think of him if you really saw him.

One morning as the earliest rays of dawn began to filter through the curtains, Frank awoke to a featherlight touch tracing invisible shapes and lines on his skin. It took a few moments for him to fully wake, and once his vision cleared and you came into focus, he froze. You weren’t tracing invisible shapes and patterns, you were outlining the marks on his skin. Frank began to panic, a million thoughts and worst possible case scenarios racing through his head. When he silently reached out to gently grasp onto your wrist, he finally caught your gaze.

And it broke his heart.

There was an undeniable sadness in your eyes and tugging down the corners of your lips. But he wasn’t sure exactly what it was from. Were you disgusted? Were you upset thinking about what he had done to earn these? Were you gonna leave?

Frank cleared his throat as he looked away from your unwavering stare, glancing down at the mosaic of chaos and rage that covered his body.

“I uh…know they ain’t pretty to look at.”

“They’re hard to look at.”

Frank closed his eyes hearing the evident pain in your voice. This is exactly what he had been avoiding. He felt you shift closer into his side, your soft palm gently cradling his jaw, and when he opened his eyes, he was met with a somber smile on your lips and a gentle, warm look in your eyes.

“Only because it reminds me just how much you’ve gone through…how much you’ve lost. It makes me sad for you, baby. Because I hate the thought of you being in pain like that. Not just physically. I know these are nothing compared to the ones that must be on your heart.”

Frank’s lips parted in surprise at your words, and a sight furrow formed between his dark brows.

“They don’t…you don’t hate seein’ ‘em?”

“I don’t love seeing them, but I don’t hate them. I think they’ll always make me sad to look at, but they also remind me that you’re alive. You made it through all of that, and you found your way to me. You’re home, and you’re safe, and you’re mine. That’s all I care about. Please don’t ever feel like you have to hide anything about yourself from me. Nothing could ever make me love you any less.”

Even though the self-loathing programmed in Frank’s subconscious wanted to pick apart your words and find holes in them, the conviction in your voice and the look of pure adoration in your eyes couldn’t be contested. You meant every word, and that moved Frank to tears.

Because you were right.

He was home. You were both safe. And you were his.

And when you traced his scars with your lips, he felt no pain.

Just love.

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle request #frank castle blurb #the punisher #the punisher request #the punisher blurb #court's 2k follower celebration #court's 2k friends celebration

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 months

Note

TW for mental illness. Mild self injury (not self harm) OCD...

Please tell me if you don't want things like this sent in I am just rambling.

Giving the boys some of my various Issues because they are traumatized and so am I. And it makes me feel better to project onto Fictional characters (man when I saw Iron Man have a panic attack on the big screen it helped me so much...)

Simon has dermotilamania and trichaltillamania (the skin-picking and hair-pulling disorders )

He is clean shaven bc he WILL methodically rip out any facial hair otherwise. Sometimes his eyebrows and eyelashes fall victim when he's really stressed. He's constantly covered in bandages because he rips at his skin. Around his nails, along his jaw, and arms are always covered in small wounds in various stages of healing. Sometimes when he wakes up feeling like he's being buried alive, he'll go to the bathroom and find bleeding gashes along his throat from trying to make it so he can "breathe"

Saw someone say Gaz has OCD once and I will always take an opportunity to shed light on such a terrible disorder. Living with it is hell. His anxieties probably revolve around missions going wrong. And since that is always a real possibility, it just feeds the OCD monster. Always has to knock on wood. Has to repeat mantras in his head. Double checks everything. Has to tap his fingers in a specific sequence. Once for every member of his team and his family or they will die and it'll be his fault. He knows it's irrational but fuck it's hard to resist compulsions...

-🔪

Thank you for tagging triggers at the top!

\tw: self injury (not self harm), mental illness, 09 Ghost's canon backstory. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

People always "toy" with the physical stuff more often than not (bullet wounds, Soap's knee injury, Ghost's scars) but the mental illness part is overlooked so often for anyone OUTSIDE of Ghost (bc torture).

But honestly, I'm all for making characters feel as real as possible. The boys would NOT be 100% sane after all they went through (I'm a big fan of making Simon Riley Suffer™️ /s)

I also hc 100% that the boys have certain mental illnesses (besides the physical stuff ofc) from service.

But I saw a fic where Soap had bipolar, another where Price turns to drugs (cocaine especially) to deal with all the shit he goes through on a daily basis, add to that disassociation/DID for Ghost and OCD for Gaz (also saw that hc for Gaz!!!)...

Those things are important to mention, ofc not everyone wants to write the angst and that's totally fine but when you LIKE that stuff (the ANGST!!! I mean), seeing it approach such topics that are SO realistic and expected??? It feels like a pay off for something you've always known you wanted to see.

#tw mental illness #tw self injury #asks #🔪 anon

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luckybyrdrobyn · 1 year

Text

This place is the place where I could not die

A Linked Universe mini fic bc @silvercaptain24 made me wanna write angst

678 words

He could feel the sweat on the back of his neck, slicking down his hairs and making his skin prickle. He hated the feeling but it was all he had to ground him. To block out everything else.

To block out the sound of stone walls falling and crumbling to the ground. To block out the sight of the bodies strewn across the ground. To block out the taste of blood in his mouth.

One foot in front of the other. Just keep moving.

He couldn’t close his eyes or cover his ears, then the others would know, and they would ask what he saw.

He could never tell them.

Lift, move, place, repeat.

Just keep walking.

He could hear his companions, but their voices were distant, covered by the dining in his ears and cacophony of the destruction. He could only hope none of them would try to include him.

The ground beneath his feet was soaked with blood.

He resisted the urge to reach up and check his arm. The wound would be closed, healed over perfectly.

It felt fresh in his mind.

He made the mistake of looking up when one of the others called out.

The ground was covered in broken bone and metal, but his mind quickly filled in the faces and tunics, identifying each and every fallen soldier in that field.

He held back a flinch.

And then the sound came rushing back in.

Screams of pain and despair.

The screams of dying men.

He let himself fall.

They were looking at him, he could feel it, but he couldn’t find the strength to meet their eyes.

They would probably be covered be the image of his enemy anyway.

There were hands on his shoulder and he fought the instinct to throw them off and draw his weapon.

He just pulled away.

Made himself smaller.

Smaller targets were harder to hit.

He could no longer hear his companions.

He flinched as fire roared past him.

He could feel himself burning.

Every scar was ablaze again, eating away at his flesh.

He would never forget what it was to burn.

But he could not fight back.

This fire was not real, no level of tricks or potions could stop a burning that wasn’t real.

He could smell the ground around him begin to burn, wasting away under the ever hungry flames. He could smell his men die.

The smoke felt toxic.

He felt his body begin to hack and cough around the non-existent smoke filling his nose and lungs.

He couldn’t breathe.

There was something cool on his skin.

There was water in his mouth.

He could feel magic in the air around him.

It felt like a fairy.

Why hadn’t they left, run while they could.

Couldn’t they see there was no hope.

There were hands on his wrists, lifting his hands to rest against something soft and warm. It had a strange pulse to it, and seemed to smoothly rise and fall hinder his palms.

He latched onto that sensation, following it to his best ability.

The one thing in this dying world that seemed to hold life.

One of the hands left his, coming to sit gently against the back of his hand where his worst burn rested.

Someone was talking.

When had he closed his eyes.

He pushed his eyes to open, expecting the sting of smoke to return.

He was met with a worried face.

He recognised it, he was sure.

But he couldn’t remember.

The face was hylian, pointed ears and fair skin.

Soft blue eyes were filled with care as they studied him through dark blond hair.

He knew that face.

He no longer felt the fire.

He looked around.

He wasn’t in the field anymore.

It was just him and the not-stranger under a tree.

He could hear voices in the distance, hurried and shushed.

He knew those voices.

He looked back to the face before him and felt tears in his eyes.

He let them fall as he surged forward to hug his friend.

#Robyn writes #linked universe #tw panic attack #tw hallucinations #tw death #tw graphic #tw injury

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kiatheinsomniac · 1 year

Note

Ok, I love Maedhros very much, so much that my keyboard memorized his name, so I would like to request a fluff with him. Idk if you write for POC, but something where they've helped each other with their own insecurities. Maybe, reader has helped Mae with his physical and mental wounds and he has helped her with her skincolor or hair texture insecurity. Something, where they have gone from friends to lovers. I dont know if that would be reasonable. The final decision I leave in your hands and just wanted to let you know that I love your writing. 😍😍 Thank you for writing and sharing your talent with the world.

☾ ⋆ﾟ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: I do write for poc! I like to make my readers feel included and represented. You deserve good rep with your favs in fanfiction!! Also sorry not sorry I threw in my 'Mae lost an eye in Thangorodrim' headcanon into this bc I like to make him suffer. Constructive criticism on writing poc readers always welcomed! Was def feeling the whole nature-based romanticism here oops. And thank you for the compliment!!

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: Maedhros

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: hurt/comfort, injury detail

｡･:*˚:✧｡maedhros

♡ in Valinor, Maedhros had quickly become smitten with you upon meeting. You were the most beautiful elleth he had ever laid eyes on and perhaps that intimidated him because he never asked to be more than friends. He yearned for more, yes, but he simply couldn't bear the thought of your rejection and so he remained content enough to have you as his dearest friend and nothing more. The two of you spent decades together in such dear friendship, listening to each other's learnings, musings, insecurities. Maedhros feared he would never amount to what his father had while you felt overly self-conscious of how you looked. Oh, how he had wished to apply kisses alongside his soothing words. You were the fairest of all Eru's creations in his eyes - even beneath the light of the two trees, Yavanna's creations held not a flame to the radiance of your beauty.

♡ during his imprisonment in Thangorodrim, he couldn't have regretted this decision more as he spent those long years sure that he would never set his eyes upon your beauty again. If only he had known you felt exactly as he did, perhaps you would have even been enough to keep him in the West? Would he have taken the oath if he had already been content with you as his wife to be by his side always? Such thoughts plagued him for decades as he remained chained.

♡ eventually, he was freed by his cousin and brought back amongst his kin where he was shocked to discover that you had come to the East and you wished to see him. He had wept upon his cousin's shoulder at the thought of you seeing him like this: covered in scars, frail, missing a hand, bearing an irreparable eye. He felt hideous, unsightly, a creature never to be seen by the ethereal likes of yourself. But you had joined the last of the groups to cross the Helcaraxë when you heard of the fëanorians' oath and the kinslayings. You had wanted to bring him home and you had remained in Middle Earth, assisting Fingon in his quest to free Maedhros from the Dark Lord's tormenting prison. How could you ever love him as he was now? Broken, hideous, blood upon his hands.

♡ it had hurt to have Fingon relay to you that your friend did not wish to see you but the dark-haired ellon had implored you to stay, to not give up and simply give Maedhros some time to recover before he would be ready to see you. And wait you did.

♡ when Maedhros finally permitted you to see him, all his injuries had healed and scars reflected the memory of where they had once been. He had an eye patch across his left eye, scars covered his body like rivers covered the land and he was much thinner and paler than when you had last seen him. He no longer shone with health and happiness as he once had when you last knew him.

♡ he found it near impossible to meet your eyes as you sat down on the other chair at the little table where he had set out some tea for the both of you in an act of hospitality, knowing it can't have been easy to know he had refused your company for so many months. He was just relieved that you hadn't seen him as skin stretched over malnourished bones, as the bruised and mangled mess he had been when Fingon carried him back here.

"I'm sorry I... I thought I could do this but I can't..." His voice was shaky, scratchy, as though he were afraid it would waver or break should he speak any louder. He wanted you to leave.

"Maitimo..." You reached out to him and placed your hand upon his wrist as there was no longer a hand there for you to hold, "I just want to be here for you... I'm here to listen to whatever you have to say, just like we used to, hm?" He swallowed hard and wished to look into your dark and beautiful eyes that reflected light like stars against the night sky. He didn't have the courage nor the self-esteem to do so, finding it much easier to share his troubles with you if he looked away.

"How can you still want to be around me? How could you leave your home to chase after me, knowing what I had already done by then?"

"Because you mean the world to me." You had replied so quickly he knew it had to be an untainted truth, "Because I wanted to know what had happened and when I arrived here and heard what had become of you I..." He listened as you sniffled slightly, the memory of being told what had happened to your dearest friend still feeling so raw and fresh, "I cannot say I support everything you have done since leaving the West, Maitimo-" You always used his mother-name and it brought tears to his eye to recall how well you got on with his mother, how she adored you. You would have been perfect together, surely? How did he let his life take this turn? "-but you don't deserve to be alone."

"How can you bear to be in my company when I look as I do?" He swallowed down the growing burn at the back of his throat at laying his insecurity so bare to you. But he had always done so with you anyway. Perhaps you and Fingon, maybe Maglor, would be the only ones to ever hear such vulnerabilities fall from his scar-dissected lips.

"Don't you dare talk about yourself like that. Don't you dare." Your voice had dropped to an urgent whisper and it was enough to make him finally meet your gaze. It was enough to make those tears run down from his eye and across his cheek. "You're beautiful Maitimo-"

"Don't lie to me to make me feel better." He cut you off but you persisted.

"If you think that the way you look now could ever change how much I love you, you're sorely mistaken. I, who often stayed awake wondering how someone so beautiful could possibly compare me to the two trees, to put me above them? I don't think you understand how much of my insecurity you healed and I'll be damned before I let you wallow in self-hatred like this." You took out a little battered notebook from your pocket and pushed it towards him. He reached forwards to thumb the pages open and found the pages covered in ink recounting compliments he had given you, words designed to combat your insecurity that he could never comprehend as you were so fair in his eyes.

You had worried that your hair did not flow like sheets of silk as other elleths' did, feeling singled out by your hair's volume and texture. He had likened you to the blossoming bows of trees in spring, so much lovelier, fuller in his eyes. There was even a pressed flower, one of many he had slotted into your hair to prove his point as blossoms and petals had fallen around you.

Your skin didn't resemble the porcelain or ivory of the other elleths around you. Once, by the coast, he had pointed out the similarity between your own skin and the rocks beneath the glittering light of the trees; dark and shimmering and seemingly transformed to the most precious jewels beneath the golden light.

Your eyes weren't the bright blues or pale greys of other elleths. He had likened them to the night sky and Varda's stars or Telperion's light dancing upon Ulmo's waters in the night, to jewels unknown to the eldar.

"And I'll return the favour." You spoke with conviction, moving your chair close to his once you observed that he had finished reading. "Your hair shines like copper in firelight." He tried to shy away from your touch when you brushed a stray lock behind his ear, cupping his scarred cheek and yet his resistance melted in your presence and instead he melted into your touch, leaning into the warmth of your palm. "So coveted and rare back home... a bit like mine in that sense." You offered him a sweet smile.

"Your scars tell your story. You were strong, stronger than even the Dark Lord and his servants who would have seen you broken. You survived, you escaped and you're here with us now. I had never seen such scars upon bodies until I arrived here but... dare I say there's a rugged attractiveness to them? And that they look especially good on you compared to any other I've seen?"

"You can't mean that..." He turned his face towards your palm, lips brushing against his skin and he yearned to be worthy enough to kiss your fingers.

"I would never lie to you, Maitimo." You spoke to erase his doubt and put forward your genuineness, "Likewise for your hand and eye... They hurt you so terribly and yet you survived. Your hand... It's not my place to tell you what you have or haven't lost, I know, but in my want to show you my optimism, might I suggest that this scar right here-" Your other hand brushed against the nub that ended at his wrist, "-was one given to you out of love? Not out of malice like all the others. This one was not to torment you but to free you. It was a sacrifice, yes, but it is a scar given to you out of love, no?" You weren't entirely wrong about that. To begin with, Maitimo wondered if it would have been better or worse to remain a prisoner or to have lost his hand but Fingon had been ever-present through his recovery and he couldn't hold it against his dear cousin now that he was free and learning how to use a sword with his other hand. He was quickly growing used to this new reality. "Can I... can I see your eye?" You asked carefully, earning a sharp shake of his head.

"No..." The word barely a whisper, "Not you... anyone but you..." The words stung slightly as you immediately took them the wrong way before reminding yourself that this was his insecurity speaking. You had once understood that well enough.

"Please?" Your fingers brushed over the eye patch and he met your dark eyes for a brief moment before nodding his head minutely. You carefully removed it to find that a great scar ran over it and the pale grey of his iris had turned milky white, his pupil completely sliced through. He could no longer see with it and yet tears could well in it all the same. Carefully, as though approaching a deer you could so easily spook, you leaned up out of your seat and let him feel your breath fan softly against his face before you pressed your lips to his scarred eyelid, cupping his face tenderly in his hands as you did so. "I love you, Maitimo, and nothing will ever change that. I love you as you are now, despite what you've done and even with the way you look, not despite it because you will always be beautiful in my eyes."

"I just don't understand how you can..." He gritted his teeth to hold back a sob as he looked down at his hand and wrist in his lap, a reminder of how beaten his body was and always would be now.

"Then let me show you, let me tell you every day because I don't just love you, I'm in love with you. I have been for decades." That was enough to finally catch his attention and you never imagined that Maedhros the tall could ever look so vulnerable as he looked up at you with misty eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

"What did I do to deserve you?" He asked aloud, whether to you or himself, you didn't know but he soon wrapped his arms around you and buried his face against the softness of your chest, finding an unspeakable comfort in your embrace as you wrapped an arm around him in turn and caressed his hair with your other hand. "I love you. I love you, I love you, I've loved you too." He whispered urgently and you could feel the dampness of his tears as you hushed him until they dried and the two of you were sitting closely to each other on the window seat, catching up and gossiping idly about his brothers like you had done all the time back home.

He closed his eyes and imagined that nothing had changed except for the fact that you were his and he was yours.

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hella1975 · 1 year

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hella can u give me a visual description of some of ur ocs for toab i need to draw them

anon is facing the classic dilemma of taob readers since the dawn of time (august 2020) and for once im gonna actually do something about it so i present unto you, artists of tumblr dot com, an exhaustive rundown of taob oc descriptions:

kanut: i feel like kanut is one whose appearance is pretty solidified now. he has white hair that falls down to the base of his back that he typically pulls back into a half-knot, with a short white beard. go grandpa go. he's described as generally having a 'rough' 'sea-faring' apperance bc he's one of those people that really doesnt give a fuck about appearance especially when it has nothing to do with his healing, so while he wears the typical water tribe clothing, he'll usually have his sleeves rolled up or stains on his tunic etc. he has blue eyes and isn't very muscled because he stays out of all combat due to being the healer, but he's one of the taller tribesmen. he has those scars on his hands that cover his palms and knuckles and quite sharp features.

chena: COLOSSAL freak of a man. like i wanted him to be comically large seeing as i was working with a kids show universe where shit like that happens, so zuko literally just stands past this man's ELBOW. fucking giganotosaurus rex. he's incredibly broad and muscled as well as just tall, very thick-necked and beefy face. like it's v important to me that chena's muscle isn't the streamlined, airbrushed kind; he's a total beefcake. he's COVERED in scars like he has a specific slit in his eyebrow that needs to be mentioned bc ZUKO GAVE IT HIM but aside that honestly go ham with the scars. his eyes are grey but more of a blueish grey, and he has dark brown hair that he does quite detailed braids in to pull back out of his face and fall down his back.

tomkin: he's v skinny/lanky and trying very hard to look bigger than he is. he wears his dark brown hair in a warrior's wolf tail and effectively looks like an older, less-burdened-by-The-Horrors version of sokka. he does tend to style the braid part of his wolftail to come out of his hair a little though instead of lying flat bc he thinks it makes him look taller (it doesn't). his eyes are a very light blue.

nanook: he has shoulder-length hair that's a light brown colour but ive realised some people mean 'nearly blonde' when they say light brown whereas i just meant 'not nearly black' like a lot of the other warriors. he wears a bead on one of the front strands and it usually falls so that it's sitting by his jaw. nanook is the tallest of the tom nook & ko trio and he's pretty toned but more in a 'has actually grown into himself' kind of way than a 'seasoned warrior' kind of way. he has a round face and generally looks very steady and calm. he has a birthmark on his hand (between his thumb and forefinger) that looks like a wave and he wears ivory bracelets on each wrist.

aput: IDC WHAT YOU DO WITH APUT BUT KNOW HE'S HOT. HE IS THE FIT ONE OF THE SWT. HE'S THEIR CASANOVA. MAKE HIM ATTRACTIVE OR DIE BY MY BLADE. he has black hair that falls to around shoulder length and he doesnt usually style it in any way, and he's the second burliest in the group. he's got a much more lean muscle than chena and it makes him quicker, so fighting-wise those two are almost evenly matched (chena just wins out though. pure aggression will get you everywhere). aput has a sharp jaw and deep blue eyes

tulok: he's the smallest of the adults and has brown hair that falls to the middle of his back. he usually just braided it back or wore it in a style very similar to korra's with the blue ribbons, but since shuhon prison he's been wearing it in an earth kingdom braid. he's easily the most put together of the group bc he has a real thing for keeping clean and tidy, so his clothes are always pristine and his personal grooming is always up to date.

tovah: she's incredibly tall and lithe with sleek, black hair that falls to her hips that she wears in a PERFECT ponytail like not a HAIR out of place. she's all sharp angles and narrowed green eyes and she tends to wear earth kingdom uniform. her skin is tanned and she doesn't visibly carry any weapons on her unless she's undercover in the army and they're military-issued.

some references from beautiful fanart i have the absolute pleasure of being gifted! i wish i could put every bit of art ever made for my ocs here but im going mainly off whose showed up first when going through the tag and also any that i think just Really Captured how i personally see the character in my mind:

this portrait of kanut by @pyro-bee

atla-style tovah by @lordrei

tom nook (+ zuko) by @gloomybirdie

tovah elle woods supremacy by @herebutnotpresent

another pyro-bee kanut by @pyro-bee

tovah character sheet by @herebutnotpresent (this one is SUPER helpful)

and tons more under the 'taob art' tag if it helps!

#finally one place where all the characters descriptions are. it took me two and a half years #if u made art of taob before and had to do it the long way by trawling through the fic for any tiny description and are now screaming at me #then just know im very sorry..... hi gloomy.....#ask #taob asks #taob descriptions

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