#maybe seeing that finale wouldn’t have stopped my depression spiral at the end of middle school | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bleachhaven · 3 years

Note

Can I request Jushiro? An very Self anxious, overthinking, depressed reader? Maybe she can be a sotaicho? And he catches her late at night at the bonsai lake after work on his way home, where she was hiding to cry silently?

A/N:

I didn’t exactly write it as reader and Jushiro being in an established relationship but maybe this is sort of how their relationship blossomed? I hope this is what you meant. This is what flowed when I got writing!!

Thank you for your request! I’m so excited to write about Jushiro for the first time!

Ukitake Jushiro with an anxious Reader

You adored Matsumoto fuktaicho but sometimes her tendency to not really be conscientious with her tasks kind of drove you mad. Being the 3rd seat of the 10th Division was a lot of work. Rounding up all the paperwork scattered on the fuktaicho’s desk in time to meet the 1st Division deadlines, making the training schedules for the higher seats of the whole division, acting as a buffer between Hitsugaya taicho and Matsumoto fucktaicho whenever the latter wanders off on non-official business...even hiding the sake from their sharp eyed taicho fell upon your little shoulders.

You loved your job, and most of all you absolutely loved your division...but sometimes, it all got a bit too much. Especially considering that the annual review was coming up, and you were only half way through it all. You had been in the office, trying to finish up whatever you could and it was way past midnight when you realized you needed to go home.

What triggered your breakdown was honestly a very insignificant thing. You were walking through the bonsai gardens of the 13th division on your way to your home, when your sandal strap just broke. It was just the regular standard sandal issued for every shinigami uniform. It wasn’t even expensive. You already had a spare in your closet because you knew this pair was done for.

But knowing those things logically was one thing. Breaking your sandal had you spiraling into an anxiety driven breakdown, and you were sitting in Ukitake Taicho’s bonsai garden, sobbing into your hands like a child. Your only saving grace was that everyone must be already asleep considering it was so late at night, and no one would know how you shamelessly cried it all out of your system

Everything came crashing down...the overwhelm over all the tasks you still had to complete, anxiety over all the tasks you already had completed, and everything else in between.

He didn’t know what woke him that night. He’d gone to sleep earlier but he was up in the middle of the night for no good reason at all. Maybe it was a small coughing fit, or maybe it was a bad dream...either way, he couldn’t remember why. But here he was, strolling in his bonsai garden, trying to settle his mind enough to maybe go back to sleep. The moon was shining down upon the seireitei. The night was crisp and chilly but not overly cold enough to be uncomfortable. The whole world seemed still, shrouded in shadows and silence.

At least until the muted sound of stifled sobs startled him. He walked in that direction till he could finally see the source of the sound. He recognized you instantly - the third seat of 10th Division that Matsumoto-san had running harried. Unintentionally, of course. You were so deep into your misery, that you didn’t even notice his presence. So he cleared his throat politely to let you know you were no longer alone.

“Ukitake taicho!” you gasped, hastily trying to wipe away the tears streaming down your face. “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize...I’m trespassing, I know. I’m sorry...I’m just...” and your face crumbled in the middle of trying to explain you weren’t trying to disturb.

“Oh no,” he said, trying to soothe you. “It’s not a problem at all. I’m glad you’re uh...enjoying...my bonsai this evening.”

His casual politeness towards you, pretending like you weren’t really bawling your eyes out for no good reason...it made you smile through your tears. Ukitake Jushiro was probably the most nicest and well-liked person in the whole of seireitei. Everyone felt cared for in his presence, and all the women (and some men) had a crush on him. With good reason too. The way he smiled made everyone swoon, yourself included.

Now, he bestowed that swoon-worthy smile on you. “Would you like a tour of the garden?” he asked, his hand gesturing to the bonsai behind him. You were so shocked by his invitation that you were already nodding your acceptance before you even thought it through.

He kept up the polite conversation. The two of you slowly strolled across his gardens, and he explained the history of each of his bonsai trees. His soft soothing voice, and strong reassuring presence had you calming down quicker than any breathing exercise could.

Soon enough, you were lulled into such a secure feeling that you were unloading on poor Ukitake taicho of everything that had you anxious and overwhelmed. He listened intently, asking appropriate questions and allowing you to vent to him without trying to offer solutions. It was...so refreshing in itself.

“I don’t know how to deal with everything, honestly...” you finished.

“Hmm...” he said. The both of you had stopped walking, and were now standing side by side staring at the gardens.

“Do you have any advice you could offer me?” you asked, hoping you weren’t overburdening him with your problems.

He smiled. “The first thing I would tell you is that nothing is ever as terrible as it might seem at first. The world won’t end if every report wasn’t absolutely perfect, or if everything was not always turned in in time. You’re doing the best you can. You have to remember that.”

“I know!” you sighed. “But there’s so much to do...”

“You could always ask for help. I’m sure if Matsumoto-san knew you were having trouble with the deadlines, she’d gather up a few seated officers to help you out, wouldn’t she?” he asked

“I never thought of that...” you confessed, feeling a bit silly. Of course the rest of your division would have helped you had you but asked.

“It’s alright,” he said with a smile, that had you instinctively smiling back at him. “Sometimes when we get so busy, we forget that the simplest things can be the best solutions.”

“Thank you so much, Ukitake taicho!” you gushed, feeling truly grateful and relieved that he had been the one to find you, and you hadn’t been left alone with your negative thoughts. “You’re very kind and I’m just...thank you!”

“Well...I’m not your Taicho. I think after tonight, we could be considered to be friends, and friends always help each other when needed, don’t they?”

“Friends?” you gasped.

“I think so,” he confirmed. “In fact, I think it would be far more appropriate if you called me at least Ukitake-san instead. And I insist that you join me for tea once in a while. You’re always welcome to seek me out if you need to.”

The offer honestly flabbergasted you. You couldn’t even process the last bit of what he said, you were still hung up on the first part. “Ukitake-san?!”

“There you go,” he grinned. “You’re getting the hang of it already.” He laid a soft hand to pat you on your shoulder. “Good night, ______-chan.”

And he was slowly walking away leaving you sputtering and blushing, unable to fathom how you’d been crying one minute and then all of a sudden, Ukitake Jushiro and you were friends! After all, you don’t invite just anybody to tea at the Ugendo, do you?

ASK BOX IS OPEN!

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#ukitake jushiro #jushiro ukitake #ukitake jushiro x reader #jushiro ukitake x reader #bleach x reader #bleach headcanons

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ithehellisbucky · 3 years

Text

For You

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Request: “I love you isn’t always enough.”

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Angst to end all angst. PTSD, depression, spiraling, fighting, break up, sad shit.

Author’s Note: I meant for this to be out on Sunday because I wrote it last Monday but I forgot. Anyways this is really sad, but I'm proud of myself because I wrote the ~spoiler alert~ "breaking up to protect the reader" but its the reader doing to breaking up.

When it takes a century to find happiness, you thought it would stick.

From the moment that Bucky walked into your life (literally, walked into your bookshop) you knew that you wouldn't leave him behind any time soon.

There was something about him that would float around in your heart forever until you saw him again, and then the process would repeat.

The first 6 months of your relationship was a honeymoon phase. Waking up to him staring at you in adoration every morning. He stayed at your apartment every day. Cuddling in the middle of the night when he had nightmares, holding him when he was scared to touch anything.

Showing him your love in any and every way you could. Making misshapen pancakes together, and him showing you his favorite movies and books from the 30s and 40s. Pure happiness.

But there was something about Bucky that couldn't sit still. He can't live your little happy life knowing that there is someone out there.

It had caused many fights, you never wanted him to go back to crime-fighting, and he wanted to prove himself. And as much as you tried to tell him that he was already a hero, he was persistent that he had to make up for things that the man that used to live in his brain did.

It drove you crazy.

You were laying on the couch reading a book and absent-mindedly watching a mediocre television show you've seen twice before. You hear each of your locks click twice and from the weight of his footsteps and settle back down into comfort.

"Hi, baby." Bucky walks over to you and presses a kiss onto your forehead.

"Hi honey, how was therapy." You ask as he snuggles into your embrace and you put your book down.

"Boring," he exclaims as you stroke his hair.

"Boring is better than bad, I'm proud of you," He smiled at you and pressed a kiss to your collarbone.

Instead of saying the 'I love you' that you wanted to say, you replaced it with: 'I'm proud of you', 'Stay safe', and 'honey' 'baby' 'sweetheart'.

It wasn't what you wanted, but it'd have to do until your love was ready to hear it.

"I'm making pasta, when do you wanna eat?" You exclaim, wrapping your legs around his torso, and realizing that you are fully entangled in a cuddlefest.

"Maybe an hour, I'm never hungry after Dr. Raynor."

You nod and can tell he understood your response.

You hold each other in blissful peace, eat your food, and go to bed. Bucky does things a certain way to sleep. He wraps his body around yours and sleeps closer to the door, so if someone tried to attack he could protect you in an instant. When he can't sleep he goes into the living room and lays down on the floor to watch tv. He's never slept comfortably before, so it's hard to sleep in safety.

Apparently, tonight was one of those nights. You woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed.

You reach over and notice that the bedsheets are sweaty and his shirt is on the ground near the door. Bucky was fine with his arm around you, it took some time to show him that he's worthy of love- prosthetic included.

You walk towards the door wearing only one of Bucky's shirts and underwear with little flowers all over it.

"Hey Bucky, are you okay..." Your voice trails off when you notice Bucky staring at the tv with hollow eyes and an unrelenting gaze. "Baby what's wrong?" You slowly walk closer to him and place your hand on his shoulder, even though all you want to do is run to him and hold him.

At first, you think that he doesn't notice until he turns around and shows tear-brimmed eyes. "He gave away the shield."

He can't seem to say anything other than that, so you reach over and hold his face to your neck. You help him get up and walk over to your room and your bed, not bother to pick up his bedding or turn off the tv. You lay gently down in bed, and hold him close to you and let him sob into your chest.

The next day Bucky's acting odd, to say the least. But you don't push it, he's been through enough in the past 24 hours. Finding out that the pretty much only constant in your life was in the hands of a stranger isn't something you can take lightly.

He left in the morning and he didn't come back until late at night. When you ask him where he was he shrugged and ate a single-serving pizza in a record three minutes then went straight to bed, leaving you eating leftovers by yourself in the dark. Not exactly the perfect day.

The same happens for the next 2 days, and then the next day he doesn't come home, and all you get is a text that he'll be home back Sunday. That leaves you with paralyzing fear for the days he's gone, and when he comes back to you at 3:30 in the morning he has a black eye and knuckle-shaped bruises all over the parts of his body you can see, which is no small feat considering the super-soldier serum pumping through his veins.

"Where the hell have you been Bucky?" You yell once he's sat down on the couch like nothing ever happened.

"I was doing stuff." He shrugs and clicks on the tv.

You snatch the remote off the table and turn it off. "You can't just disappear for days and act like nothing ever happened!"

He rolls his eyes and gets up, beginning to walk towards the bathroom "Don't walk away from me! You don't get to walk away from this!"

He turns around and glares at you with the gaze that you've seen him use plenty of time at guys who were checking out your ass at bars.

"Why the hell can't I?" He spits out and towers over you.

"Because this is a relationship and you can't walk away whenever you want to and expect everything to be fine!" His anger doesn't intimidate you. "What the fuck did you expect me to do? Bake you cookies and shampoo your hair when you got home?

I'm not your bitch and you're not a liar, so tell me what's going on." You exclaim, hoping that he'll tell you something other than what you know is really going on.

"I was out with Sam."

"Oh my god," you sigh, turning away from him.

"There's this group called the flag smashers, and they're trying to cause a revolution or something," you run your hand through your hair, "and the new Captain America was there, and he's not a good guy, so me and Sam were-"

"No. No Bucky no." He seems slightly taken aback, but what honestly was he thought was going to happen.

"I don't care if you run around beating up bank robbers or making amends for things you didn't do, I do care that you lied to me about something that could've killed you."

"I know it's just-" He says, scratching his head with his metal arm.

"It's just what? That you want to help people? There are plenty of things you can do to help people other than getting beaten up Bucky!"

You take a deep breath and think it through more, "you know what, I'm blowing it out of proportion, you were just trying to help Sam and you were scared, let's just talk to Dr. Raynor and figure something out tomorrow."

You turn to go to bed and notice that Bucky isn't following "what's wrong?"

Bucky takes a deep breath "I'm not seeing Dr. Raynor anymore."

You turn around, angrier at him than you've ever been, "what?"

"John, the new Captain America, wants me to be focused on the mission, and therapy is just a distraction."

You can practically feel anger boiling through your veins. "Do you even hear yourself? You sound crazy. I would be fine if you went on missions or teamed up with Sam, but you can't stop going to therapy Bucky."

"Yes I can; the whole point is that I can make my own decisions. It's my choice." Bucky exclaims, yelling at you louder than you thought he ever would.

"Okay. If you think that making decisions is about ruining your life because you can, go ahead." You look him straight in the eyes, all fear gone. "you can quit therapy and implode all the progress you've made" you take a deep breath "and get out of my house."

Bucky drops all of his anger and steps back in shock and fear. "What?"

"I'm not going to let you ruin your life Bucky. When I met you, you wouldn't even let me see your arm. I've realized, that you are dependent on me, and that's not okay Bucky, because you deserve better than only having one good thing."

You were holding back tears, but in this moment you needed to help Bucky, and the only way to do that was to make sure he would be okay. And he can't do that if you are the only thing in his life. "You had nothing for 70 years Bucky, and now that you have the whole world you can't keep holding on to one person. You lost Steve, and then you were desperate to find something else to hold onto. You need to find yourself Bucky."

"No, no please don't do this. I- I love you." He starts crying and it takes everything in you not to run to him and hold him.

"Love isn't always enough Bucky." You turn around to leave your apartment in the middle of the night, "I love you more than anything, but I can't let you ruin your life. Go back to therapy, Buck, I'll be here. I'll wait. Go live the life you finally have Bucky. I love you."

You walk out your door and the second you close it you start sobbing. You wander out into the street and wonder if you did the right thing.

You hoped and you begged and you pleaded that Bucky would discover the world that he deserved. You wouldn't abandon him, you would make sure he stayed alive, he just needed time to be free. This wasn't for you, you reminded yourself, it's for Bucky.

Always for Bucky.

Requests are open!

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

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between us - final chapter

The one where Aaron hurts you, but he knows just how to heal you.

When Hotch comes home one day and takes out his frustrations on you, you’re sent spiraling into a depressive state that you were all too familiarized with. But as your boss and closest friend, he’s the only one who knows how to take care of you during a relapse. His efforts to fix the situation end up awakening a different side of him, a side that might just be precisely what you’ve been missing in a time like that.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist. PLEASE CHECK THEM.

A/N for this chapter: we’ve reached the end, you guys! I don’t know if I’m ever writing for Hotch again, since I don’t really think anyone even read this series, but sharing it with the world was very important to me, since the whole story was so personal. If you do end up reading it and reaching the final chapter, I hope it resonated with you somehow. Thanks for reading!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Three months passed in the blink of an eye and the well I had hid in for so long was nowhere to be found. Between Penelope’s ever-present banter, Rossi’s pasta nights and overall, the support of my friends - that made the BAU seem more like a family than a job - I was feeling better than I had felt in years.

But of course, most of my progress was to be thanked to a certain SSA Aaron Hotchner - and Jack had a big part in it, too. Both had welcomed me not only into their home, but into their lives, to a point where it was hard to remember what Friday nights used to look like away from them, without pizzas and Disney movies. I never went back to living in my apartment. Aaron never mentioned it, and apart from the two visits we had made right after I moved in with them, to gather more of my clothing I’d left behind, I hadn’t even been there in a while.

In fact, I had been gathering the courage to talk about it with my boyfriend for the last week or so. I knew we’d need to have this conversation eventually, and when the opportunity arose via us wrapping up a case that was supposed to last all weekend, leaving Jack with his aunt while we could have the house to ourselves, I knew it was now or never.

“I still can’t believe we were able to solve this before Sunday,” Aaron said, that cute tiny smile on his lips as he opened the door to his house.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It still feels weird not going to pick Jack up, though.” My boyfriend nodded, turning around to face him after he’d dropped his briefcase over the sofa.

“I know. But it’s already too late to wake him and Jessica up just to bring him home. We’ll get him in the morning.” I nodded, mostly because this was perfect for my intentions for the evening, but still, I missed the little guy.

“Aaron,” I started when he opened the fridge in search of something we could eat. He hummed to let me know he was listening, but despite the fact that I wanted to start talking while he was otherwise occupied with other stuff, just so I wouldn’t have to deal with the added weight of his impenetrable eyes on my figure, the words didn’t leave my mouth fast enough. Obviously, he took notice, which only made him immediately turn around to look at me, where I was sitting by the breakfast table, trying not to look incredibly guilty as I met his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” It was hard not to giggle at how quickly he went into dad mode at the prospect of any trouble. It helped to clear the air and release some of the tension I had accumulated in my body.

“Nothing’s wrong, silly. I just have something I need to talk to you about.” He nodded, opting to reheat some leftover pasta I had made a few nights before we left over trying to create something from scratch this late in the evening.

“Tell me.” He was stirring the pot where the pasta had been deposited as he waited for me to begin, but I knew his concentration was completely focused on me. I had to recognize how incredible he was, not only as a boyfriend, but also as a profiler. It was clear that he was aware of how much easier it would be for me to open up if he had the premise of another task in his mind, keeping his eyes away from me.

“My landlord called me this week.” And there it went. All pretense was suddenly dropped as his head immediately whipped up to stare at me with a frown on his handsome face, clenching the pot with much more strength than it was really necessary.. “My lease is about to end, I have to sign the renewal soon. I figured it’s the perfect time to talk about me returning to my apartment.”

At first, he didn’t say anything, simply stared back at me with unreadable eyes. And then we smelled something funny. “Oh my God, Aaron, stir the pot and lower the heat!” I directed after finally realising what was going on. I jumped out of the chair to help him, but by the time I had made my way around the counter and inside the kitchen, the situation had been diffused and the pasta was done. “Is it still edible?” I joked, peering up from his side to check if there was still some salvaged part of the food, but it looked mostly alright. Maybe only the bottom part was burnt.

He didn’t answer me, not even offering a chuckle to lighten up the mood. But he did plate up the now warm pasta, picking up both dishes and walking to the table without a single glance at me. It was clear he was deep in his thoughts, so I figured it’d be best to allow him time to get to any conclusions he might reach by himself, opting to simply follow him and take my place where he laid my plate, silently starting to eat while keeping an eye on him.

It was only after my second bite of food that he said something, and it wasn’t what I was expecting to hear.

“Aren’t you happy here?” The question caught me so by surprise that I dropped my fork against the plate, immediately flinching from the loud sound that echoed around the empty living room in the middle of the night.

“Of course I am, Aaron.” I didn’t understand how he could for even a minute doubt that. Didn’t he see how much better I was? How he had managed to help me get back to normal?

“Then why do you want to leave?” If the other question took me by surprise, this one completely astounded me. I couldn’t even offer an immediate answer, because I was in no way prepared for it.

Finally, I settled for, “I never said I wanted to leave, honey. It’s just that I figured it’s a natural evolution for our situation. I’m better now, and I have my own apartment. Why should I stay here?” It was like he had barely heard me, by the way he immediately countered my question with one of his own.

Aaron’s P.O.V.

“Well, do you want to?” She looked lost, her mouth opening a few times before she settled on what she wanted to say.

“Want to what?” She looked so confused, fidgeting with the edge of her skirt while she bit her lip. I had to lean down and deposit a quick kiss on her mouth, not only because I always wanted to kiss her, but also because I knew it helped her relax. When I saw her shoulders relax, I covered her hands with mine, pulling them up on the table so I could keep holding them more comfortably.

“Do you want to stay here?” I finally clarified, watching attentively for her reactions. At first, she looked surprised, her mouth falling open and her eyes widening at my question, but in seconds she gathered her thoughts and bit her lips, avoiding my eyes before nodding, a sheepish smile on her lips.

A huge grin immediately appeared on my face, as I watched her come to senses with what I had just asked. When she finally found enough courage in herself to look up at me again, I threw myself at her, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this happy. Watching Y/N come back to her natural state was already relieving, as it was to have her around all the time, especially when it came to help me take care of Jack, but to know that she wanted to be here indefinitely, that she had agreed to live with us? I was over the moon.

When we separated to catch our breaths, she was flushed again, and it was clear she was trying very hard to keep her eyes on mine.

“What?” I asked, certain I had a goofy smile on my face. She bit her lip once more, making me groan. “Stop that, pretty girl,” I teased, pulling her bottom lip from its confine. She rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. “Now tell, me, what is it that you want?”

The atmosphere of the room had changed, it was clear now. Whereas it had felt cold only a few minutes ago, when I thought she wanted to leave me, it felt absurdly hot out of nowhere, and I had half a mind to rip her dress off of her. So when she answered me with a soft, “You,” I knew exactly what she meant.

I immediately stood up from my chair, reaching out to help her leave hers too, but instead of walking hand in hand towards our room - it was our room, now, I reminded myself with a smile - I couldn’t deal with the prospect of spending another second separated from her skin, so I took her in my embrace, kissing her in celebration of the next steps in our relationship we were taking together, tonight.

We made out like two teenagers right there, in the middle of my living room, and when the fire that was growing inside of me rose up to my head, I found myself pulling on her dress and taking it off her body, not caring to notice where it ended up. The second her skin became available to me, I lost the last of the control I was still trying to keep, and pulled her by her ass to wrap her legs around me so I could at least take her to our bedroom before I had my way with her, like I’d been dreaming to do for so long.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

As soon as Aaron carefully laid me down on his bed I was already sitting up, reaching for his shirt. I’d been dreaming about this for so long, long before he ever showed any interest in me. Of course, back then it made me embarrassed - I never thought I’d be the girl with a crush on her boss - but after we came clear about our feelings, the only reason why I didn’t immediately jump his bones was because he wanted to wait for me to get better. And which person wouldn’t melt with that?

Only now that waiting time was over, I couldn’t get him undressed fast enough. It was nice to see him with a teasing smile, looking down at me with that mischievous glint in his eye as he realized just how much I wanted him, when in our day-to-day life outside this house he was always so serious.

“Someone’s eager,” he jested, and I stuck my tongue out at him.

“I expected you to be too, or should I be worried about you not being attracted to me?” The question was made in all good humour, but Aaron clearly did not appreciate it. His smile immediately dropped, and before I could say anything to make it better, he was crawling up on the bed, making himself at home between my legs.

“Don’t even joke about this,” he whispered, dark eyes studying mine just like he did whenever we were alone before he captured my lips in a deep kiss that was equal parts possession and affection. “Do you feel this?” He pressed himself against me, and I could feel exactly what he was referring to. “I’m always so hard around you, sweetheart. You have no idea how difficult it has been to live with you and not be able to touch you like I’ve been dreaming of.”

His words made me whine, clutching his back so he’d lay more of his weight on me. For someone who was as quiet as Aaron usually was, I wasn’t expecting him to be so comfortable in sharing his desires with me, but it only made me appreciate it even more.

“Well, I’m here now, aren’t I? And you’re not doing a good job of taking advantage of this opportunity at all.” He smirked teasingly at me, getting out of the bed to take off his clothes until all he had on was his boxers. Then he was back between my legs, pressing his hardness against me with even more fervor as he devoured my lips once more.

Aaron’s P.O.V.

“I’ll show you how well I can take advantage of you, little girl.” She whined once more, making me chuckle as I slowly left her lips to continue pressing kisses on her jaw, until I was sucking on her pulse point, marking her as mine. I’d never been one for leaving bruises before, too worried about the consequences came the morning time, but in that moment I’d damn all the consequences just to have her, own her, make sure she’d never forget how it felt to be together like this for the first time.

I didn’t want to have to learn how to be without her again. She was a part of me now, a part of my life and I liked it better with her around. I liked me better with her around. So I made sure to make the most out of this opportunity, when I finally had her exactly where I wanted, to imprint her taste in my mouth, memorize the smell of her skin.

As I kissed every inch of skin my lips could meet, she danced underneath me, desperately trying to create some friction between us, in that wet heat I could hardly wait to encounter again. So I granted it to her, rubbing my clothed cock on her pussy as hard as I could while ripping off her bra, exposing her beautiful breasts to me for the first time.

My mouth watered at the sight, and I immediately enclosed one pebbled nipple with my lips, circling it with my tongue before sucking on it lightly. At her pleased gasp, accompanied by one of her hands, which she tangled in my hair, I doubled my efforts, sucking a bit harder, until I heard her moaning sweetly above me.

The sound went straight to my crotch, and I lifted myself off one breast to stare up at her, take in the beauty that was seeing her like this, slightly out of breath, her lips bruised from my nibbling.

“You’re perfect,” I let her know, and when she smiled I leaned down to give the other breast the same treatment. God, she tasted sweet. If her skin was this delicious, I could only imagine how delightful it would be to bury my face in between her thighs, drinking in her essence.

But I wouldn’t have to imagine it much longer. Slowly, determined to kiss each inch of skin along the way, I created a pathway of kisses and bruises down her stomach, appreciating the shiver that went up her spine at the feeling of my nose caressing her lower belly.

“You’re so beautiful, love,” I insisted in reminding her, knowing how hard it was for her to believe me - or anyone else - when it came to her qualities, but she needed to learn about her own beauty. I’d teach her to recognize it.

“Aaron, please…” Now, I’d heard a lot of sexy things in my life - most of them from her own lips, ever since we’d started dating - but nothing had ever come near the sound of her begging me to give her some release. It made me lose my infamous control, it turned me into that same man I’d become when I had her over my lap, writhing with the need to feel my touch on her skin.

“That’s not how you call me, is it, sweetheart?” I asked, looking up at her from my spot between her thighs, while I sensuously kissed the soft skin there. Her eyes sparkled with understanding, and while she tried to control the instinctual need to raise her hips to try and get me to touch her where she really needed, she finally said the words I’d been dying to hear again.

“Please, daddy, I need you.” That was all I needed to plunge into her waiting heat. Just like I’d anticipated, she tasted heavenly. Syrupy sweet and incredibly addicting. I wanted to bathe in her essence, drown in it.

It didn’t help my animalistic instincts that every swipe of my tongue over her little clit elicited the most musical moans from her perfect lips, which only served to further incentive me to bury my tongue as far as it could go inside of her weeping hole. My nose was the one massaging her nub while I struggled to get every drop of wetness I could collect, further aided by my head’s movements as I enthusiastically moved around, eating her out hungrily.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Aaron was so starved for my cunt that all of a sudden, his hands came up to grab the cheeks of my ass, helping him better angle my body to how he desired to be able to fully appreciate his meal. It was dirty and sinful, but it was exactly what I needed after so many nights dreaming about his touch on me.

I was so wet I could feel it dripping from my lower lips, smearing my thighs and tarnishing the duvet underneath me. It didn’t seem like he minded, though. It was more for him to lap, and I had to grab the covers to try to keep my mind from going insane.

“Daddy…” I moaned, desperate for release as my whole body trembled underneath him. Aaron didn’t even look up, still too busy with my pussy, and I had to say it out loud so I could get his permission. “Wanna cum.”

That made him look up at me, but only his gaze went up to meet mine, his face remaining buried against me, never stopping his incessant licking. “Come on, love. Come for me.” As always, I followed his order without any amount of hesitation.

It wasn’t like I could control it, anyway. My body didn’t belong to me anymore, it was his, his to take, to care for, to love and to deal with, when necessary. And I trusted him to take good care of it.

So far, so good. He finally came up for air as my muscles relaxed, making me fall slack against the sweat-drenched mattress. Kissing his way up my body, he kissed me on the lips with fervor when our lips finally met, his long fingers immediately finding their way inside of my still sensitive cunt.

“Daddy…” I whined, feeling too raw yet to be able to deal with any part of him inside of me, but he was having none of it. Although he immediately retreated the finger, it was only to slap my pussy so I’d stop trying to close my legs around him, conceding all the access to my body once again.

As soon as my legs fell open, he was pushing it inside of me again, only this time there were two of them. Despite how wet I was, the thickness was already far more than I was used to, but the stretch felt wonderful, making me feel full like I couldn’t remember ever feeling before.

Over me, I heard Aaron curse, prompting me to open my eyes again (when had I even closed them?) only to find him focused where his fingers were carefully exploring. “You’re so tight, sweetheart. How long has it been since you’ve had sex?”

The question made me giggle, knowing he didn’t really need an answer. But the truth was, it’d been over a year. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had sex with my ex, and since it had been a while before we broke up, I knew Aaron would really need the time to prep me up to take him.

Just the memory of how his cock felt underneath me, straining in his trousers when he had me over his lap, had a new wave of wetness flooring from within me. My boyfriend sucked in a breath, clearly hypnotized by the way the added lubricant helped him ease his digits in.

Aaron’s P.O.V.

I was transfixed, completely in love with the way her pussy gripped my fingers every time I pulled them back only to push in again. Although it didn’t help my growing need to repeat the action with my cock, it did fill me with some kind of satisfaction by itself. I was the one doing this to her, I was the one giving her this pleasure. She was creaming around my fingers.

So I kept on my shallow thrusts until I could see it wasn’t enough for her. I saw it in the way she pushed back to meet my digits. I saw it in the whines she was emitting, which only served to make me even harder for her. Finally, she was the one who broke me out of my reverie, downright begging me, “Please, Aaron, please. I wanna cum around your cock. Please.”

Who could possibly deny such a request? I recognized that I was known for my control, but I still had needs, like any person. And right then, all I needed was her. So I pulled away, just enough so that I was able to pull my boxers down and wrap my hand around my member, trying to relieve some of the tension.

The vision before me more than helped. It was better than porn, certainly better than anything my mind could create, seeing Y/N like that, completely naked, heaving and wet because of me.

I knew birth control wasn’t a concern, so I just leaned over her again, rubbing the head of my cock on her clit and appreciating the desperate moan that resonated around the room before I dragged it down and pushed in.

Immediately, the feeling of tightness and warmth made me gasp, and I almost lost my balance and fell on top of her body, but her own hands flew up to hold me by my hips, freezing me in place. She didn’t say anything, but from her whimper, it was clear that she was in pain, so as much as I was trembling with the urge to push all the way inside of her, I breathed deeply and rested my forehead on hers.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay. I know it hurts, I’m going slowly, okay? Give you time to get used to it.” She nodded, eyes squeezed shut while I delivered quick kisses all over her face. I tried to pull back slightly and push in only a little bit further, and she seemed to adjust to that, her hands coming around my torso to hug me to her.

“Slowly,” she repeated in a whisper, still not opening her eyes.

“Slowly,” I agreed, kissing her temple and keeping up with the ritual of sliding back and pushing in again, until I was able to bottom out. “Fuck, daddy!” The whiny tone of her voice only added to my arousal, and I exchanged my kisses for little bites all over her neck.

“Does it feel good, baby? Can I move?” I asked, fascinated by the taste of her sweat on my tongue. I wanted to lap it up, just like I had done to her wetness minutes before, but the ache in my groin reminded me there were more pressing urges to be fulfilled now.

“Yes, Yes! Please, move!” That was all I was waiting for to start thrusting in and out of her. It was an incredible feeling. It’d been so long since I’d felt this connected to someone. It felt amazing. She felt amazing. Such a strong feeling of belonging, of true love coursed through my body that all I wanted to do was to kiss the breathing air out of her lungs.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I held on Aaron’s body like it was my lifeboat, and in many ways, I supposed he was precisely that. He’d been patient when I needed, firm when I desired it and now he was filling me in ways I’d never felt before.

It was such an overwhelming feeling, to be this connected to someone. The thought prompted me to finally open my eyes, only to find his already fixed on mine. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, and I felt my heart grow twice its size before I pulled him to meet my lips again.

“So are you,” I mumbled against his mouth, and he chuckled breathlessly, still fucking me deeply against the mattress, prompting me to run my nails over his back, making him curse. Believe me, there was nothing hotter than hearing Aaron Hotcher curse while being balls deep into you.

“I don’t ever want to leave you,” he confessed, and I knew he was referring to the act we were currently partaking in, but I couldn’t help but to run my fingers through his hair, softly responding, “Then don’t.”

The mood suddenly changed, and so did his thrusts. They became slower, but more meaningful, somehow. His forehead fell to mine, his lips but an inch from mine when he answered, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t.”

I knew we’d still have so much to overcome, so much to fight for, but the fact was that we’d be doing it together. I knew that now, as I felt him move inside of me, bringing me to new heights of pleasure, his hands finding mine and holding them by my side, in bed. This, right here, wouldn’t solve everything, but it brought me a sense of belonging I’d never been able to experience before.

And at the end of the day, I knew that all I wanted was to belong to Aaron for the rest of my life.

#aaron hotchner smut #smut #aaron hotchner #my series #criminal minds fics #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds smut #aaron hotchner reader #aaron hotchner reader insert #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch smut

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prinxlyart · 4 years

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I also imagine that despite some culture shock, Willow and Amity fit into the human world surprisingly well. Willow's more mellow demeanor and Amity's years of experience in high social culture mean they can fit in well in almost any social setting. Almost too well, after a while it starts to get to Luz since it seems like her witch girlfriends from another dimension do a better job fitting in than she ever did. Cue Luz needing extra love and cuddles

Bruh are you trying to get me to relive my high school existential depression??? Cuz I’m about to lol. (Damn it this is another long one, fuck, why can’t I just answer a question with little blurbs???????)

[tw: for descriptions of bullying, a panic attack and general depressive thought processes]

</3 :’)

Let’s say this excursion to the Human Realm is like a week-long vacation for our girls. They stay with Camila and Luz gets to spend time with her favorite girls and show off the stuff she grew up with. She’s so excited to share all the stuff she loves!!! Like how the trees don’t actually watch you and you typically don’t need to worry about critters attacking you when you walk by. And like. 99% of the things aren’t thinking about eating you. Oh, and just electricity and technology in general.

They come up with their cover story fairly easily (Luz’s girlfriends from another country that are visiting), figure out an easy illusion spell to hide Amity and Willow’s ears, and they’re off to the races. Luz takes them to her favorite after school snack spot, her favorite locally-owned book store (there’s a cat there named Miss Mittens that sunbathes in the display window), her favorite park, etc.

Willow and Amity are having so much fun too; they love learning about the Human Realm, but they love seeing where Luz grew up even more because her whole face lights up when she’s telling them about wherever they are. The first time a truck rolls by (one of those biiigg 18-wheeler delivery trucks) they both nearly scream and are so close to casting something to protect themselves, but Luz reassures them that it’s fine.

For the most part, they just have fun!! Luz couldn’t be happier. There’s something fun about being almost like an ambassador to the people you care about; you get to share so much information and see their wonder and amazement. That is, until Willow decides to walk up to a counter at a shop and ask the clerk about something. Luz doesn’t understand the weird twinge in her heart when Willow does this, but it’s quickly brushed away when Amity grabs her hand to get her attention and ask about something else.

Then the Mall Incident happens. And Luz is shaken. She never forgot about her old bullies but she did forget how much even being around them sent her into a mild state of panic. Sure, she had classes with them all the time, but they couldn’t always be bullying her. They never were as aggressive with their bullying as Boscha had been before that Grudgby match. But that doesn’t stop Luz from shaking slightly for the rest of their time at the mall. She brushes it off when Amity and Willow ask, yeah it was kind of a shock to run into them, but she’ll be fine.

When they get home Willow and Amity know she’s not fine. It was like if Luz was a candle, she’d been snuffed out and they were only seeing the remaining wisps of smoke. It was jarring to say the least, but after talking it out with Luz and smothering her in affection, Luz does feel better.

As their little Human Realm excursion goes on, Luz watches Willow and Amity interact with the Human world with relative ease and that same twinge in her heart is back. She doesn’t know why she feels so odd about seeing her girlfriends just talk with store clerks or restaurant waitstaff, but something about the whole situation is bothering her and she can’t put her finger on what.

That is until one night towards the end of their little vacation when Willow wakes up at like, 2 in the morning to the sound of sniffling (she and Amity are sharing a blow-up mattress in Luz’s room). The alarm bells go off in her head as she registers what the noise is and looks over at Amity only to see that she’s fast asleep. Which means Luz is crying. Willow gently shakes Amity awake before sitting up and checking to make sure she didn’t mishear anything, but her heart only breaks with what she’s able to see.

Luz is curled up in a tight ball, completely surrounded in her blankets, and shaking so hard Willow could’ve mistaken it for a seizure if she hadn’t heard her crying. Willow scrambles onto Luz’s bed and gently drapes herself over Luz’s shaking form, only to hesitate when Luz almost violently recoils at her touch. Amity is quick to join them on the bed once she’s woken up enough to see that something was wrong. Both girls quietly ask Luz what they can do to help her, but her crying only becomes harsher and she starts shaking her head and pounding her hands to her forehead. Willow has to forcibly hold her hands away to make her stop while Amity fetches Camila.

Camila comes rushing in and turns on the light and just starts muttering in Spanish under her breath and she takes Luz into her arms and holds her, just gently rocking her and running her fingers through her hair and still muttering quiet Spanish. Willow and Amity can only watch, grabbing each other’s hands for any amount of stability because their hearts are shattering at the sight of their girlfriend crying so hard.

After a while, Luz’s crying dies down, but her shaking doesn’t. Camila sighs and asks Amity and Willow if they’d like to sleep in her room for the night, to which they both immediately reject. They want to know what’s going on with Luz and how they can help. They’re terrified for their girlfriend and want to do anything they can to help her. Camila feels her own heart melt at that because wow, these girls really do love Luz.

So she asks them instead if they would like to bring their blankets downstairs to the living room and get set up on the couch while she takes care of Luz. Amity and Willow are reluctant to leave Luz, but this is her mom. If anyone knows how to help her, it’s Camila. So they quietly agree and gather up their pillows and blankets and head downstairs and talk quietly on the couch, holding each other’s hands, going over what could’ve possibly caused Luz to break down in the middle of the night.

Meanwhile, Camila manages to ease Luz into letting go of the death-grip hug she has on her and sit up enough for her to wipe the tears from Luz’s face and ask her what’s wrong. Luz almost starts crying again; it hurts her so much to think about. Not to mention, it’s a dumb fear that she knows shouldn’t bother her but it’s scaring her half to death anyway. Camila just waits for Luz to gather her thoughts, gently fussing over her hair and straightening out her rumpled pajamas until Luz is ready to speak.

Luz admits to her mom that she’s scared of losing Willow and Amity. She tells her about the run in with her old bullies at the mall and what they said about her finding people that “tolerate her existence” and how that hit harder and deeper than it should have. How she can still hear the taunts in her head; about how she probably lied to them in order for them to even bother looking her way or that maybe they were just actresses Luz had hired to make her feel like she was worthy of having a girl on each arm. She knows that shouldn’t bother her because she knows Willow and Amity care about her, she knows none of that is true even in the slightest.

But then she watched them ease seamlessly into navigating the Human Realm and she remembers how long it took for her to even begin to understand the nuances of the Demon Realm and it sort of dawned on her how easily she could be left behind. It would be so easy for them to be able to figure out how the Human world works and to go off on their own adventure together; they’re both ridiculously smart and they have each other, what’s Luz but a tour guide that talks too much? And now they’ve been seen with her in public and if they ever did want to explore more of the human world, they would need to go out of town so they wouldn’t be known as Little Luz-er Noceda’s Fake Girlfriends.

Not to mention that back in the Demon Realm, they’re both known to be smart and powerful witches. Luz still gets odd looks thrown her way as she walks into a new place in the Demon Realm because she’s a Human and Humans Can’t Do Magic. Why would these two beautiful, talented, powerful witches want to be seen with Luz the Human? No matter what world she’s in, Willow and Amity are out of her league and she fears that one day they’ll realize this and just leave her behind.

Camila is absolutely heartbroken at this (and makes a mental note to reach out to that girl’s parents; two years have gone by and their child is still as nasty as ever). She reassures Luz that Willow and Amity care about her so much. She’s seen the way those girls look at Luz when they think she’s not looking and they are so beyond smitten with her. And Camilla’s long since gotten to know these girls. She knows they’re absolute angels with hearts of gold (and would probably die and/or kill for Luz, but that’s a thought Camila keeps sealed away in the darkest corners of her mind). There’s no way either of them think that way and would never leave Luz thinking they were some how better than her or too good for her.

Camila also gently reprimands her for not making these fears known sooner; a whole panic attack could’ve been avoided if Luz had brought this up earlier. Luz finally smiles and admits she went down a sort of intense depressive spiral when they all went to bed earlier that night. She’d been feeling off all week but hadn’t figured out why until it was too late. Camila tells her to go downstairs and talk with her girls; she needs to explain what caused her to have such a fierce panic attack in the middle of the night because they are worried sick. Luz gives her mom a hug and mutters her thanks before she grabs a blanket off her bed and heads downstairs. Camila follows her downstairs but goes to the kitchen instead to start some tea (and maybe check her phone to see if Eda’s up 👀).

When Luz finally comes downstairs, Willow and Amity jump off the couch and approach her to hug her, but remember how badly she reacted earlier and keep their distance while they ask her if she was okay. Just seeing her girlfriends look so worried over her well-being is enough to make Luz’s heart squeeze and she just throws her arms around the both of them and hugs them tightly. They all just stand there quietly for a minute; Willow and Amity are relieved to see Luz is okay enough to be giving them a hug, but they’re still worried about what happened. Eventually Luz pulls away and they all sit down (Luz is sandwiched between her girls and playing with their hands; it’s their go-to comfort seating arrangement) and Luz explains everything she had just explained to her mom.

By the time Luz is done with her explanation, Camila’s bringing out the tea for the girls. She sets down the tray for them and plants a big kiss on Luz’s head and tells her that she’s going to go back to bed, they just need to come get her if they need her. She also gives Willow and Amity big kisses on their heads that makes them all giggle and blush before they all wish her goodnight.

They spend a while going over each of Luz’s fears one by one, reassuring Luz that those fears have no power to them because there’s no way in any realm they’d let something like that happen. They both reassure her of how much they adore her, how much they love her (and both make sure to leave plenty of kisses on her cheeks in between said reassurances), and how nothing would ever change that.

Not to mention her last fear. Amity and Willow out of Luz’s league?? Too out of league for the girl who broke into and out of the Conformitorium twice, who defeated a Puppeteer Demon on her second day on Boiling Isles, who not only get Willow an A+ in a magic track she wasn’t good in but also switched into her magic track specialty on her 5th day on the Boiling Isles; who rediscovered an ancient, long-lost method of performing magic within her first week, while ALSO dealing with an Owl Beast Eda-

And that’s just her first week of living in their Realm. Since then she’s disrupted and completely changed the rigid learning system of their school, defeated several monsters, including the Bat Queen, a Slitherbeast, and GROM, put Boscha of all people so in her place that she’s since sat back and re-examined her entire life, and went face-to-face with Emperor Belos and managed to land a hit on him. Yknow, all within the first month and a half of her living on the Boiling Isles. (With more to add as the show goes on I’m sure)

If anyone is out of anyone’s league, Luz is so far beyond everyone that there was a new level created just for her. It doesn’t matter what some air head bully from the Human Realm thinks of her; she’s literally revolutionized life on the Boiling Isles by simply being the bright, passionate, loving person she is.

Luz is definitely crying by the time they’re done listing everything she’s accomplished. Amity and Willow just snuggle up close to her, kissing her face and her head and maybe her shoulder every so often as they reassure her that they love and admire Luz for who she is and can’t even begin to imagine their lives without her. She never ever needs to worry about them somehow leaving her behind when she’s the one leading the way.

They all end up falling asleep on the couch snuggled up with one another and empty mugs of tea on the coffee table. Camila wakes back up a few hours later and shakes her head at the sight of them; they’re all going to have sore necks when they wake up. But she takes several pictures of them and sends the best ones to Eda. Eda replies almost immediately, informing her of the bet she has going with Lilith and King about how soon after they graduate they all propose to one another and asks her if she wants in on the betting pool. She also comments on how sickeningly sweet those girls are and how she’s about to go puke her guts up and definitely NOT make one of those pictures her scroll background.

#prinxly inquiries #hushman #the owl house #willumity #tw: depressive episode #tw: panic attack #this ones a sad one yall #but dont worry the ending is so cotton-candy fluffy itll rot your teeth out #Camilia is a Good Mom that LOVES her daughter and i will stand by that until the day i die

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wanderingfanfics · 3 years

Text

My Balan Wonderworld Story

So on Twitter I saw a trend of people talking about how they discovered Balan Wonderworld so here’s mine! I’m using tumblr because long-winded is my middle name (Wandering Long-winded Fan)

Warning I’m going to be talking about death in the family, anxiety and depression.

...I know that’s a little dramatic for how I got into a game with the funny hat man.

So I have anxiety. I’ve always had it, but I pretended it was manageable. I used to have a therapist but she was sort of...judgmental. I saw her for a year before I decided that I didn’t need to anymore. The anxiety spikes got more frequent and I’d end up going into terrible spirals where I fixated on atrocities, but I could brush it off because I’d still find a way back to things I enjoyed.

Then my grandma died last summer. I’ll spare you the details, but she was the first person I opened up to about my non-straight situation, and I loved her for it. The games I was playing, the songs I listened to, the fanfiction I was writing, I stopped doing all of it. It was all trapped in a time when my grandma was still alive, when I could still hear her voice through the phone after work.

I was distraught for a couple of months and then I was able to go back to normal routine, but at the beginning of this year I had another anxious spiral, and it wasn’t going away. The thoughts wouldn’t stop, and they overtook everything I did. I couldn’t read, play games, work, watch movies, anything without thinking of existential dread. After five years, I started getting panic attacks again. I was still able to eat and work and even play games, but I got none of the joy anymore. Having both anxiety AND depression is quite the concoction to choke down during a pandemic.

Now, this might be the point where I go, “AnD tHEn bALaN SaVED mE,” but I won’t, because that’s a dangerous lie.

You know what saved me? Getting Help. I went to the doctor, I was officially diagnosed with anxiety and depression and then I got some hecking medication for it. You can’t depend on a game to save you, you need to talk to someone.

The spiraling thoughts still pop up every once in awhile, but they don’t have the same control over me like they used to. Soon as I can afford to, I’m going to a therapist and I’m not going to brush off my depression and anxiety ever again.

So anyway, I was prescribed some medication which would take effect after a few weeks. And HERE’S where Balan Wonderworld comes in. Because I found this video.

youtube

And I couldn’t stop thinking about it? Why was Penny Parker mortified when they started dancing? What’s going on? I looked at her impression of the full demo, and I thought “oh! this’ll be fun to watch others suffer though!” (btw Snapscube is cool streamer you should check out) I was one of those “love to hate it” fans at the beginning, or maybe more accurately a “love to watch others hate it” fans. It was so hilarious seeing people’s brains melting over such an innocuous looking game. To be fair I didn’t hear of this game when it was announced, so I didn’t have expectations to be trampled on.

Then I thought, “Wait...those Tims...remind me of Chaos.” Suddenly the demo was in my hands, and I replayed it like five times. Next thing you know I preordered the game (and then a second time before I realized I already preordered it) bought the cd, bought a freaking portable cd player to play it with, and am in the middle of writing a whole fanfic.

Then after all that, after replaying the game twice, it hits me. I was genuinely enjoying something again. I loved this game.

My dog died a few weeks ago, and I cried for a couple of days. He was the sweetest boy in the world in his passing hit me like a truck. But instead of shutting away the fanfiction I was writing because it was when he was alive...the first thing I wanted to do was write again. It wasn’t something to shut away and put under the bed, it was a comfort now.

Balan Wonderworld did not “save me” from anxiety and depression. The joy and love I have for it comes from the fact the it came to me after I decided to finally treat my anxiety. The love and joy for Balan Wonderworld is the result of finding me at the right time and place to bring me happiness.

I know this has nothing really to do with the actual game, but maybe that’s the point. It wasn’t the game itself, it was the circumstances surrounding it. Though, the game looked like it was just made for me. I mean, dance sequences? Colorful backdrops? Tims? What’s not to love.

So long story short after crawling out of a terrible spot in my life I reach the top to find Balan Wonderworld waiting for me, and I’m happier for it.

If you happened to read my previous fic “Yuma and Memories” I’m sorry its taken so long, but I haven’t given up on it. I’ll get back to it one day. For now, I’m going to keep working on “Welcome to the Wonderworld!” because its become a comfort and a joy to me. I hope you enjoy.

...Also I got a puppy and so I can’t finish the chapter this week I’M SORRY-

#balan wonderworld #Balan Wonderland #Welcome to the Wonderworld #fanfiction #fanfic #anxiety #depression #death in the family #death of a dog

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faustonastring · 4 years

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Hi! I really adore your last headcanon, so I was wondering if you can write about how the MC could comfort the main 6? in the situations that you prefer! :)

Hi! Thank you for requesting sorry again for the confusion! Hopefully this is what you had in mind!

Request R Open!!! :^)

Mc comforting the main six!

Tw(?):

Descriptions of mental breakdowns, anxiety/panick attacks, depression, anxiety, etc,,, (based off my own experience, so may not be too accurate just read at risk!)

Asra

I’ve said it before I’ll say it again, I’ll say it a million times, trauma doesn’t go away over night. Asra will always ponder about what he did that masquerade, what happened to you at the lazaret. No matter what happens in your relationship, it’s just a reoccurring thought that won’t go away, no matter how much he tries.

As much as he tries to forget, as much as he wants to forget, those nasty memories keep sneaking up on him, toying with his mind, forcing him to go into a downward spiral of hurt and regret that he can’t escape

He always tries to hide it from you. He tried to play it off like nothings wrong, that he’s just having a bad day, which can turn into weeks, which can turn into months....and it’s not like he likes keeping things from you, it’s just everytime he tries to tell you, he’s flashed with memories of you catonic, unresponsive in the shop,,,what if that happens again? He can’t risk it, even though it won’t, he doesn’t want to risk it. He won’t

When you finally do break him, he’s shattered glass. Crying and spilling out everything that’s been bothering him for the last- god knows how long,,,the only thing you can do is to be there with him. Take him in your arms. Hold him. Tight. Tell him you’re not going anywhere, that you’re here now, and that’s all that matters, that the past is in the past, and it’s already set in stone, that you both need to look forward for the future.

When he’s calmed down enough, carry him (and if your mc can’t carry him then drag him) to bed. Wrap him up in as many blankets as you can find. Tell Faust to go cuddle with him while you make him his faveroite calming tea blend. Then cuddle in bed and talk about the future, what it has in store for the both of you. Or reminisce on the past, the good things, what you can remember or can’t, and everytime he tells you a story of something that did happen? You can feel a tug on your heart. You don’t need reassurance. You both end up falling asleep in each others arms, Faust curled up in ball laying on top of each of you. And when you wake up? Everything seems perfect

Nadia

She’s been trying to fix vesuvia for months, maybe even years now (that depends on your time line!) trying to erase it of al, of Lucios past mistakes. Fixing the flooded district, fixing the judicial system, tearing down the coliseum, getting rid of all those tacky statues it’s a lot.

She often worries that she could of done more when lucio was in charge, but an end to things, fix things, be more than a stupid trophy wife, an accessory for him to have around his stupid gold arm, these thoughts will swarm and swarm in her head, making them her new priority, causing her to overwork and exhaust herself trying to fix ‘her’ late husbands’s past mistakes .

Her motto is fake it till you make it, pushing through her inner pain, holding her head high, walking with much more pristine posture than before, working on one project then the next, leaving them all slightly unfinished because she’s much too eager to work on the next one, to fix the next one

You walk into you’re shared bedroom one afternoon, only to see her sobbing at her desk, you could tell something was wrong for a while now, you just couldnt seem to put your finger on it till now. But now that you see her crying at her desk, unaware that you have even walked in, the sounds of her sobs drumming over your footsteps as you make to her desk, and engulf her in your arms, you know exactly what happened. She doesn’t even try to pull away, if anything she pulls you closer, burying her face in your neck, clingy on to you like her life depends on it, for once she isn’t alone

The second you calm her down enough, you drag her to the bed, and the two of you just lay there as she tells you everything. You run your fingers gently through her hair, over her face, her arms, letting her know she’s not alone, let her know that she doesn’t have to do this alone, that you’re there to help her, alongside almost all of vesuvia. After she’s calm and collected, she asks you to help her fix her makeup, and the two of you make a game plan on how you want to fix vesuvia. Together

Julian

They keep him awake at night. His past mistakes. They’re like little voices that swarm in his head. Espically at night. “You could of saved them” “you should of found a cure” “you could of found a cure, if you were working hard enough” “Mc died because of you.” “ you’re not working hard enough. “Because you weren’t there” “you’ve never worked hard enough” “you could of saved them” “you will never be enough”

They don’t come as often as they used to. But when they do come, they’re enough to turn his world upside down. He wants to beleive they’re not true, but it’s hard not to beleive what you’re head is telling you, even when your heart knows it’s wrong. This (like Nadia) cause him to work harder. He has to make up for those past mistakes. He has to make that voice. That voice that’s stuck in the back of his head like a catchy song. To stop. To go away. Once and for all.

He’s been coming home late from the office every day, and going in early, you can swear he doesn’t sleep at all, but how would you know, you haven’t seen him in the last 3 days. You swore one time in the middle of the night, when you awoke from the sound of something breaking, you saw Julian hunched over a desk, wiping coffee off himself, telling you to go back to sleep, if you were to ask him about it, he’d swear you were just dreaming. But it felt a little to real to be a dream.

You awake again one night, well early morning, to be exact. To early. To the sounds of Julian wailing at his desk, calling him self names, saying he should of done better, when you tap him on his shoulder to see if he’s okay, he accidentally slaps you in the face out of shock (he thought you were a intruder at first) he pulls you into his arms, sitting you in his lap, and starts to examine your face, the only source of light being a candle that’s almost out, but when you tell him you’re fine, that you’re much more worried about him, he breaks. You shouldn’t be worried about him. He doesn’t deserve to be worried about. Now go back to bed.

But you stay put, in his lap, and he by all means isn’t going to push you off of him. So you sit there and hold him. You let him cry it out. Telling him he is worthy, and his past mistakes don’t define who he is today, “besides Ilya everyone makes mistakes, even me” when he’s done, talk about your mistakes, and how they made you into the person you are today, how everything always worked out, you’ll laugh and cry it out together, and by late sunrise, the two of you are in the kitchen munching on some toast (or anything else that you prefer). And in a way, it’s kind of bitter sweet. If asra never were to leave, and if Julian never ignored you, both being leading causes to your death, you wouldn’t be catching the end of the sun rising with your beloved.

Portia

(Portia doesn’t have any underlying lore that we know about as of now, so this one isn’t going to be as good as the other three, not that I don’t love her because she’s one of my favorites trust me I just don’t have much to go off of! So that being said, I will be basing this off of assumptions of her character being that she doesn’t have some big tragic back story like the rest of the cast (again that we know of) Sorry, I hope you understand Portia stans)

What if she’s not good enough, she’s always working, it’s as if she’s trying to prove herself, but to who? Everyone in the palace knows her, they all appreciate her, the guards, the chefs, the other servants, Nadia, hell, even the consul, and lets not forget about you of course, so what’s pushing her so hard?

To be honest, it’s hard to live a normal life when your constantly getting compared to your brother, but not by other people of course! (*looks at camera like in the office*) by herself, constantly telling herself that she needs to be up to his standards, in her own little away. She wants to be more than Julians little sister.

This want- no not want this Need comes and goes, but when it comes, it lasts for a while, until she’s burnt out under a pile of pillows and blankets, sobbing into a bowl of ice cream, or until she does something she deems worthy, like the time you and her (*enter portias upright ending here*) she wants to do that again, why can’t she do something like that again so instead she works. She works until she can’t work anymore, and it breaks your heart.

You and Nadia converse a plan, and within minutes your dragging Portia out of the palace you can have a spa day at a natural hotspring, just the two of you, and as soon as your alone, she starts to tear up. She forgot how nice it felt to be like this, alone with you, with out the stress of work, without the little comparisons ringing in her head. It feels nice. This feels nice. No not nice. Right. This feels right. Then she remembers she can do one thing that Julian can’t do: relax

She ends up telling you everything in the form of an angry rant, and you listen and let her curse out her idiot brother as much as she needs, she deserves it. When she’s done, you remind her of all the wild things the two of you did together, (I’ll leave this for you to decide :) ) reminding her that Julian has never done anything as crazy as that, and then she smiles, a real genuine smile as she remembers that she is more than julians little sister.

Muriel

It’s always the same nightmares. No matter how long it’s been, how much he’s grown, how much he loves you, and understands that you love him ‘more’ (much to his surprise) he can’t change the past, or make his PTSD magically disappear (he’s tried) he still has blood on his hands that he can’t wash off, just a little bit under his nails. Between his fingers. But you can hardly notice it. And so can he.

Sometimes when he’s having a particular bad day, he can still hear them. The screams. From the crowd. From the victim. From lucio. He wants nothing more than to drown them out, so he’ll spend hours and hours listening to your voice, it’s much prettier anyways. But on the days your at the shop, or at the market with a friend, leaving him all alone....the screams get louder

He knows he can’t keep spending every second of every day with you, he knows how unhealthy that is. But sometimes he needs you, he wants you there with him, but is he alowed to want that? But they just keep getting louder. But he doesn’t want to bother you at the palace. You have important business to attend to he understands that. But they won’t stop. But you should be home soon, just three hours and forty minutes left he can wait it out ButThey’reTooLoud help

When you get back to the hut, after whatever errand you were running. Muriel is sitting in the far corner of the hut. His knees to his chest his hands over his ears, slowly rocking himself back and forth muttering something under his breath, you have to practically tell his name to get him to acknowledge, and when he finally lifts his head up, you’re meet with glassy green eyes, tears falling down his cheek no matter how hard he tries to stop them, and you run into his arms, holding him tighter than ever before, whispering that it’s going to be okay, telling him he’s not a murder. He didn’t even need to tell you. You just knew.

You knew. You knew something was wrong and you came back early for him. You’re here in his arms, crying with him, you came back to him, you’re telling him that he’s good, and he doesn’t understand why,but then he remembers that you love him for who he is now, not because of your past, it just took him a minute to remember (or to listen to you telling him it over and over) then instead of you wiping his tears away, he’s wiping yours away. Thanking you for coming back to him. And from now on, if he ever hears the screams, he comes with you, and then they seem to slowly go away.

Lucio

He’s changed a lot he really has, he’s starting to care about people! Wow I know shocker- but with caring for people comes a big responsibility. Guilt. He’s felt guilt before, he’s not a complete sociopath just in very small portions. Very. Small. Portions.

He’s starting to feel bad for what he did, he starting to feel bad for all the people He. Killed. Not on purpose of course....but they’re still dead....and them there’s you....oh god what has he done. Whathashedonewhathashedonewhathashwdonewhathashedone- he doesn’t want to think about it. He tries not to. I mean who would want to think of dead people amiright? But he still does. And everytime he does it hurts a little more. He hates it.

It’s starting to keep him up at night too. All he wants to do is cuddle with you and his babies (his dogs-of course) but he can’t even bring himself to do that so he just lays there. Staring at the ceiling. Or at the portrait of the two of you, a new replacement of his old one. It reminds him of when he had the plague. He hates it even more now

He hasn’t been acting like himself lately, and when you catch him dissociating in a random hallway, staring off into outer space, then you know something is wrong. The minute you snap him out of it. When you ask him if he’s okay. He breaks down crying. No matter where he is, or who’s in the hallway with him. So you just stand there and hold him. You tell him it’s okay and what he’s feeling is normal. But His chest hurts. He feels like he can’t breathe. Like when he had the plague. God he hates this feeling so much

You eventually calm him down enough to take him to his room, when you get there, there is already water, and a damp towel that you put on his forehead. He’s practicing his breathing, trying to calm down as you gently coach him through it, he’s holding on to you’re free hand tight. Grounding himself. Enjoying your presence. “This is normal right? Normal people feel this kind of stuff?” “Yes lucio, it’s called guilt. Or in your case a panick attack” “ oh. Well I hate it and I hope I never have to feel ~guilt~ or whatever it’s called again.” But he does. But with your presence next to his. Comforting him. It gets better. Slowly. But surely.

Hi! Thanks for reading! Hopefully that wasn’t to dark for anyone, I was just having a bad night so it was good to be able to put all my negativity out onto something!

Next headcanon: main six with a mc who’s eyes change according to the sky (5/11)

Request are open! :>)

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hahanoiwont · 3 years

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@bluerose2017 replied to this post: I feel that Frisk would get along so well with the more murder type sanses. Like Dust Sans from Dusttale, Nightmare, Killer, and Error. Frisk would understand their motives for being the bad guys.

Yes!!! oh boy, yes. ok ok let's go down a really self-indulgent path with this, alright? we're about to have good fun. which i will put under a cut bc it may get long. (EDIT: haha yeah it got long. multiverse shenanigans ahoy)

so let's say Frisk follows the path from Fall Into Grace. They go straight to Horrortale, and they stay there for a bit--sure, Ht!Sans starts out hostile, but the both of them slowly learn to trust each other. By inches, they try to come to understand each other. They both have in common that they were lurched from a deeply violent society into Regular Undertale (but spooky); they both clearly broadcast their trust issues, and therefore can work on them together. At the end of Horrortale, they're planning on sticking it out together on the Surface.

Then Frisk disappears. In Horrortale, their disappearance is while Sans is looking elsewhere--it's just like HT!Frisk's disappearance originally, except this time, they got everyone to the Surface first.

So now, Horror is having his triggers stomped on. Not a fan. He wonders at first if this is just what happens--maybe Frisk is meant to disappear, and HT!Frisk didn't mean to abandon the Underground to its fate. Maybe Frisk isn't a human at all, but some sort of apparition that appears periodically and vanishes just as quick. Maybe he's still starving and it's all a delusion his mind made for him as he's dying.

Or maybe Red crashes through, absolutely ready to shoot first and ask questions later. And suddenly Horror has his answers. Alternate universes. Obviously. Very stabby alternate universes.

Frisk, meanwhile, lands in Dusttale.

Dusttale, to my knowledge, is the AU where the human (whether it's Frisk, Chara, or the player is unclear to me) does genocide after genocide, resetting dozens or hundreds of times until not only does Sans remember, he also goes insane. Given the inevitability of all his friends dying, and how his low stats prevent him from fighting the human until they've killed enough people that his karma effect becomes useful, he decides he's going to kill everyone, gain the LV for it, and then kill the human as soon as they come around.

This is not a great situation for Frisk to be wandering into. Given that they're nearly identical (clothing aside) to their Dusttale counterpart, and Sans is insane anyway, they're not likely to see mercy in this world. Frisk walks in, sees that Sans is crazy, dies, walks in, sees that Sans is crazy, dies, walks in...

Eventually, a la WT!Swapfell, Frisk figures out the right ways to dodge as much as possible of the initial ambush; but they can survive for minutes at a time, if that. This Sans's stats are hopelessly inflated, and he doesn't play fair. It comes down to their DETERMINATION versus his, in a mirror of the same struggle that drove him crazy in the first place. This time, Sans is inevitably killing every monster, and Frisk is the one who can't save them. But, in a conflict of interests like this, Frisk is always going to win--they have an unfair advantage, straight out. They're simply more DETERMINED.

Eventually, Sans is stumbling bleakly through his genocide, disassociated to the point of hardly understanding what he's doing and why. He kills people because he kills people. He has a vague certainty that he's keeping them safe, but he doesn't understand how. He knows that he used to be different. He knows this is somehow Frisk's fault. But his ability to remember across RESETs is being buried under his inability to think straight under the massive trauma. He doesn't understand why he's killing his brother. He knows he doesn't want to. He knows that Frisk can probably tell him, but he also needs to kill Frisk very quickly, before they can gain EXP from...the piles of dust?...because there are no surviving monsters to kill.

He finally stops before killing Frisk and asks them why. Why are they making him do this over and over again? Why are they looking at him like that? Why is everyone dead? Why, when he's felt so numb for so long, does it still feel like it hurts?

Frisk has no idea why this Sans has killed everyone. Months have passed in increments of a day or less, as Sans swiftly and efficiently executes all of his neighbors. He's learned every place that people will go, and he shows up where the most people are congregated at a given point in time, leaving nothing but dust by the time Frisk gets through the Ruins. They've never gotten out in time to save a single monster. They're pretty sure Sans is possessed, or something, because this isn't something he would ever do (insert irony with Red's desire to kill literally everyone in Underfell).

When Sans doesn't kill them right out the gate, as it were, they begin to hope that whatever has been forcing him to do this has let go, or at least worn out enough that he's beginning to fight through it. They're not totally wrong--whatever is left of Sans is waking up, a little bit, as he leaves behind his scripted execution.

Frisk goes to Dust and tries to hold him, rocking back and forth like Red would do for them when they woke up out of a nightmare. He almost kills them for it, but what's the point? They'd just come back, and Dust would have to kill everyone one more time. He's tired. He lets them do what they want. It mostly makes him feel worse, but he doesn't stop them.

There's a strong parallel here to Going Big; Going Home. In that story, Red went into a deep depression spiral for months following his realization that he couldn't bring himself to kill every monster in existence even if it would save his brother; in this story, Dust has killed everyone already and no longer sees any point in much of anything, struggling to understand what has happened to him and why he did what he did. He wants to Fall Down quietly, but his newfound stats and his desire to survive until he's sure Frisk is dead won't let him. Also, Frisk is standing in his way.

Seeing as Dust is apparently going to be docile and passive for the time being, Frisk takes his hand and walks him through Snowdin.

They see a vision of a massacre.

Piles of dust, items lying around as if people just dropped dead in the middle of whatever they were doing. Doors are hanging open from where people went to greet their friendly neighborhood skeleton and ask what he was knocking for, only to die in seconds. The Underground was only somewhat prepared for a human to go through and get violent, and they weren't prepared at all for one of their own to kill them. Frisk sees every evidence of a very efficient, merciless slaughter. Dust is looking blankly at it all, like he can't quite put together what it means.

Frisk gets a strong feeling that they shouldn't visit their brothers' home.

Instead, they bring him to a cabin far removed from town, visible only from Glyde's ledge, and push him to sit in a wooden armchair. They pat his hand to tell him to stay there while they look through the cabin for dust. They don't find any. Dust could have told them they wouldn't, except that he's having trouble finding his voice right now. He waits where they put him until they give him the all clear.

He's supposed to watch the human. They're supposed to be doing something for him to watch them for. But the kid in front of him seems mostly interested in holding his hand and trying to smile for him. He sits in stasis, with his drive all run out but without anything else to turn to.

The first week is mostly silent. Frisk doesn't speak, and doesn't really communicate anything that Dust would need a response for. Dust chats with his hallucination of Papyrus sometimes, but since Frisk can't see him, the conversations end there.

On a given day, Frisk will set Dust up in the chair with a book that they've decided he'd like, sometimes with a blanket or a glass of milk to go with it, and they'll venture out to the Underground. Dust will shadow them from a distance as they investigate for survivors. There aren't any. They'll come home with some supplies and fill up the cupboards. Dust will already be there, right where they left him, with the book opened up to a random different page than before. If it's towards the end of the book, Frisk will decide that he liked it and try to find more books of that kind.

They'll go to the kitchen and try to put something together for dinner, and Dust will take all the cooking implements from them and actually make the thing they're trying at. He silently revokes their cooking privileges when they try to shatter a bottle of vinegar into a salad. Papyrus says he should have just eaten it. He also says that Dust is infecting Frisk with his horrible tastes in food, just like he's probably infecting them with the dust on his hands. How long until they're a killer like him? Dust tries to argue that they were the killer in the first place, but the words ironically die in his mouth. The truth is bitter, and he's not even sure what it is anymore.

After that, Frisk is allowed to taste test and get ingredients, and otherwise they're watching with their eyes and not their hands.

Once the food is eaten and cleaned up, Frisk will bring out something for the two of them to do together. Board games, card games, hangman, puzzles. Frisk always deals for two. Dust doesn't see a point in fighting them on it, which Frisk decides is a very hopeful sign. Sometimes he breaks the rules and just sort of moves one thing to another spot blindly, but he is moving!

Frisk usually wins these games on account of being the only one paying attention, but since they let him keep his illegal moves, he wins Sorry by sorta pushing his pawns into his safety zone on the fourth turn. After the game, Frisk always decides it's bedtime, gives Dust another book, and leads him to a bedroom, where they leave him to take it from there. Rinse and repeat the next morning.

The second week, Dust starts glancing at the titles of the books he's given, and maybe the summary if it seems interesting. He tells them not to bring him encyclopedias anymore. They bring him a dictionary instead. It takes him four minutes to decide whether killing them is an appropriate response.

(Verdict: no. It wouldn't make a difference, anyway.)

The third week, he walks with them on an outing. Frisk steers away from population centers and takes a back way through Waterfall to look at the lights. They sit there in silence--even Papyrus is quiet. The echo flowers have each had their messages replaced with a single, loud clap. Nobody says, "Why are you doing this? What--Sans, wait, wait--!"

The fourth week, Dust starts reading the books he's supposedly been reading all day during the night. It's weird to feel bored in the ashes of civilization. He tells Frisk short, single-sentence descriptions of the more interesting ones. They seem happy. Dust is pretty sure there's some sort of Stockholm syndrome going on here, but he's not sure which way it goes.

One universe over, Red and Horror are searching through a universe that seems like it's had some extradimensional interference, but it can't possibly be the one Frisk is in, because it's a dead Underground. As far as they can tell, there are no survivors. Still, they keep coming back to it--it's the only potential positive they've found. And even though the universe seems to be a dead end, things keep moving in it--a book vanished here, a cupboard rearranged there. It's like someone is very stealthily looting the place.

After seven weeks of quiet, routine days with quiet, routine ups and downs, Dust is taking charge of a few things. He tells Frisk what groceries to get, and decides what to make for meals. He's attempting his first joke in a long time when he dryly bans Monopoly forever, but somewhat to his surprise, Frisk listens. The Monopoly board doesn't come out again. He's not sure what to make of this--that the person who drove him crazy is the person who's trying to make him sane. Most of the time, he chooses to forget that there's anything but this. Two people exist in the world, and one of them is an unstoppable killer and the other is a patient, even-tempered pacifist. He can't even tell which one is which anymore. It's whatever.

Left to his own devices, Dust may have spent years or longer like that. The Underground may not have the resources to sustain all of its inhabitants without things like farmers or energy, but it's got plenty for two people. But Frisk writes a very short letter for him, saying, can we try again? Can you not kill Papyrus? I miss him and I want him to be alive.

Well, with an argument like that.

Dust doesn't really want to see a RESET. It feels like it isn't worth it, having everyone alive again just to watch them die. Even if Frisk doesn't kill them, who's to say Dust won't? Even if he doesn't kill them, who's to say that Frisk won't, either? Maybe the Underground will just cave in. Dust is sure he can't have that life again, surrounded by living people when even Frisk and his hallucinations seem like a crowd sometimes. He's pretty sure his LV stopped going down a few RESETs ago. He doesn't think he can be Sans again.

Eventually, he decides it doesn't really matter what he wants. Frisk will do whatever they want and there's nothing he can do to stop them.

After the RESET, Dust wakes up to his brother's voice, telling him it's time to start the day, and also his brother's ghost, already with him as always. He goes to the square just to see if he's gonna lose it and kill everyone, and now that he's looking, he notices the split-second flinches when people recognize him. Most of them don't even notice it in themselves, but they know he's something dangerous. He heads to the Ruins door and waits.

It's easier once Frisk comes out. No one in the Ruins is dead. Dust and Frisk both didn't kill them, this time around. If he sticks really close to Frisk, he can pretend everyone's apprehension is just for the human in their midst. After all, Frisk is just as much a killer as he is. It's not his fault his LV's stuck at 20.

Frisk has a tough time making friends. The people of the Underground seem to expect them to be some terrifying killer, and everyone seems to want to protect each other by killing Frisk. It doesn't help that Dust doesn't like people in his space much, and flashes his spooky-eye look at anyone who gets within about three feet of the two of them. They're not quite sure who he thinks he's protecting, but they trust him to have good reasons to do what he does.

The only time Dust leaves their side for any significant period is when they're with the real, alive Papyrus, who frets about his brother. Sans has gone missing, he explains, but no one will believe him because they've all seen him around. But he hasn't come home. People who don't come home are missing. So Sans is missing. He's certainly missing dinner, and Papyrus needs to get him to come home before he eats nothing but ketchup and grease for his meals. Frisk knows their own Papyrus well enough to see what he isn't saying--that Papyrus needs to get him to come home before anything bad can happen to him. That Sans disappearing when he seems so listless and blank can't be a good thing. That Papyrus is scared for his brother.

Dust can't stand to see his living brother. The idea puts him in a cold sweat. If Papyrus is living, then Papyrus can die. He prefers the phantom--cruel as he is, at least he'll never leave Dust alone. Dust can never hurt him and never kill him. Frisk can't even see him. As long as Dust is alive to see him, Papyrus's ghost is safe.

When Frisk breaks the Barrier, Dust disappears quickly afterwards. They find him standing alone a little farther down the cliffside, isolating himself; and they grab his hand again like they always do, to bring him back home. They're surprised when they fall out of the world--they almost forgot. They'd almost hoped it wouldn't happen.

Dust doesn't try to stop them. Just like always, he follows them through. He kind of hopes for oblivion, for an end to choices that he always makes into mistakes, but he's not so lucky. He wakes up to Frisk's frantic shaking in a patch of flowers far Underground. This is Underswap, and Dust is about to have a horrible day.

I think in this AU, I'm going to leave Killer's story--mostly because I don't know his backstory very well, just that he's Nightmare's right hand man and assorted other factoids. And since Nightmare isn't technically a Sans, just the embodiment of negative emotions, his universe wouldn't even be in the running for Frisk to land in--similarly, I am too charmed by Error's story to change it. So here's where I think this goes from here.

Nightmare arrives in Horrortale, intending to recruit Horror. The guy's life is miserable, there's no reason for him not to hop out of his universe to cause mayhem as long as it's better than starving. But the universe isn't the same anymore. Nightmare considers wrecking stuff in order to snack off of negative emotions, but Horror and Red are scanning the hell out of the universe, so Horror is able to pick up on a hole being punched in it and appear in a matter of minutes. He asks why Nightmare is here, and Nightmare says honestly that he was here to recruit him as part of a small team to complete certain missions, embodiment of negativity, eternal struggle in the multiverse between Nightmare and Dream, food and five-star lodging provided, etc. But it seems like he's got something going here, so...?

Nightmare is honestly fairly impressed that someone noticed him entering the universe so quickly, and he's hoping Horror may still be interested. It's too bad that Nightmare can't get Horror's lifelong trust and allegiance by rescuing him from a bad situation, but he's certain he can make it work. He only has one minion as of right now, that being Killer, and he'd like to have at least one more (if only so Killer will stop bothering him when he's trying to Plot Evilly. Also, Dream has two friends to Nightmare's one minion, and Nightmare can't be lagging behind, that's just unacceptable).

Horror may not need immediate rescue himself, but he sure knows someone who does. He asks a few careful questions about the multiverse--would i be able to visit other universes on my own? Yes. am i allowed to interfere with other universes? Encouraged, even. Especially where spreading misery is concerned. can i take someone out of a universe if they don't belong in it? What an oddly specific question. Nightmare is beginning to think he'll have a way to endear himself to Horror, after all.

Horror dismisses his questions as mostly being about the job he'll be doing--after all, if he's fighting people who travel between universes, of course he'd want to know if there are ways to track people across universes, or to tell if there's someone in a universe that doesn't belong there. Nightmare lets it pass without comment for the time being, but decides to keep an eye on the situation, to try to figure out what exactly Horror is looking for. If he's willing to leave his whole life behind and set himself up for a lifetime of fighting just for a chance to find it, then Nightmare has an easy way to earn his eternal loyalty. Muahaha.

Now of course, this is all for Evil reasons and not because Nightmare isn't sure how to make people like him if he doesn't provide some service or do some great favor for them. He certainly hasn't seen people love his brother for the happiness he provides, and said "I could do that >:( I could do Good Things for people and then they would Like Me and not hate me >:( and in fact I would do it while being Very Evil so I know they'll like me for me and not just because I'm, for example, a paragon of light and hope in the multiverse >>:( and then I would have better friends than Dream. and he will be super jealous. because i will have friends who like me. so there >>>:( this is what WINNING looks like, brother >:("

Now this would leave Red in the awkward position of being in the wrong universe and also missing in his own universe. I am not sure what I want to do with him here--he could come with Horror, and just sorta hang out as a Bad Sans. I know he's not normally one, but he comes from Edgy Universe so I could see it? But also, I know canonically Error steals from Red's chocolate supply, so I think it would be kind of hilarious if Error's been pissed bc his stock isn't being replenished, being as Red isn't around to buy more. And Nightmare could just. dump Red back in Underfell. Both as a favor to Error, to try to secure his loyalties at least a little, and as a show of how Powerful and Evil he is for his brand new recruit. Both options are tempting...I am undecided. But uh, something happens with Red. He is somewhere. Horror probably wouldn't just ditch him in Horrortale on his lonesome.

Now, Horror and Killer get along alright. Killer's got the sarcastic fast-talker charm, and Horror is getting used to being able to hold conversations at a normal speed again. And both of them get along with Nightmare. Killer is witty and challenging, and Horror is loyal and hardworking and (VERY important) knows how to cook great meals. No more mediocre fried rice. Scrambled eggs are no longer mysteriously watery. It is shocking how much home life improves with good food, and Horror is a big fan of having a seemingly endless pantry. His stipulation that a portion of everything gets sent home to Papyrus is a pain at first, but it's not so bad once it gets ingrained as a normal part of mealtimes. Sometimes his Papyrus visits, and that goes about as well as meeting family members of a dear friend for the first time can go. A bit awkward, but it settles into something positive.

The only weird thing is, with every new universe, Horror insists on making sure there's no one there who isn't native to that universe before havoc can begin. It's not a huge pain or anything, and it is a good move strategically, but it's a very specific request. Once it happens enough for Killer to get curious, it isn't long until the cat's out of the bag--a story of a sibling accidentally cast aside, a world that was cruel and unfair to them, a misunderstanding that made their brother think they were horrible and abandoned him to an awful fate when actually they'd done nothing wrong, and an endless journey that never seems to point home. And Horror was willing to put aside everything to try to bring them back--if not home, then at least to somewhere safe. To build new common ground together, after the old grounds went up in flames. To understand their side of it and see that they weren't wrong even if things looked kinda bad on their end, actually everything they did was completely justified, Dream--

Suffice to say that Nightmare is sympathetic. That is, he can see the strategic advantage to helping Horror find this sibling of his, and reunite them. Because then he'll have an endlessly loyal minion, and probably also an endlessly loyal minion-in-training. Obviously. He doesn't even believe in brotherly love, so obviously it's not out of some imagined desire to see his friend family underling scrape a happy ending out of what seems like an unrecoverable falling-out (complete with literal falling, in this case) with his sibling. It's just a matter of spending a tiny amount of effort searching for a months-old trace of a magical trail that's interrupted by not existing in some parts on account of time travel.

Killer iirc can't feel much of anything but hate, but he doesn't hate Horror, and it's not like he's forgotten what emotions are entirely. He does want the guy to be happy. They're kinda buds and Horror watches obscure competition shows at 3am with him when they both can't sleep. It'd be a little awkward to have a Frisk around, but at least it's not Chara. Most people he meets on a day-to-day basis are technically versions of him, anyway, and it's not like he can't differentiate them. He'd put up with it for Horror's sake. He'll only stab them if they're possessed, probably.

Thing is, when they do find Frisk (eventually Nightmare thinks to call in a favor from Error), Frisk is traveling universe to universe with some apathetic LV 20 Sans who is still trying to figure out when murder is and isn't the way he wants to solve his problems. Namely with other Sanses, since he has enough self-hatred that he can't imagine it's much of a loss. Thing is, he fcking hates it when Frisk time-travels, and it makes Frisk miserable, too, so he can't just murder every Sans who annoys him even slightly...but most Sanses don't take kindly to some LV 20 stranger wandering through...which means everything would just be easier if they were to go missing...not like more dust on his hands is gonna make a difference, right?

But no, Frisk always insists on going back to when the local Sans was alive, and it's just a waste of time and energy. So Dust mostly doesn't kill anyone who isn't a real jerk first. Mostly.

This is the scene that Nightmare & Co come upon when they finally catch up. They have to take a moment to regroup, because who even is this guy? He never leaves Frisk's side for long (local Sanses have a tendency to ambush and kill him for being a violent lunatic if they can get him alone, and then at least one party dies, and then time travel, etc.), he talks to thin air, he's generally Kinda Creepy.

Their initial thought is to try to get Frisk alone, but Dust in this time has noticed that they're being followed by a group of very suspicious characters, and tells Frisk to go on ahead while he lurks. It comes to a pretty devastating battle, between Dust's combat prowess and the gang's equally impressive abilities (Killer having done his own geno run, Nightmare having an impressive body count and also massive raw power on account of being kind of a demigod, and Horror himself being no slouch in combat). Frisk sits over in the next room like they're in the waiting room for a dentist's office, poking at echo flowers and waiting for their brother to be done with Mysterious Errands while ignoring three separate variations of Megalovania in the background.

Then Frisk figures, wait, there are a maximum of two Sanses...but three Megalovanias...that ain't right. Also, Dust said he wasn't gonna kill the local Sans this time. He didn't promise, but he said he would try, so he really shouldn't be sneaking off to pick fights. This is the conclusion Frisk comes to about six seconds before the wall is destroyed by stray blaster fire.

What they see through the wall is Dust, teleporting right out of combat to make sure they didn't get hurt or vaporized, and out of the rubble they can make out a goopy octopus Sans, a Target Sans (which makes other Sanses...walmart brand? food for thought), and a Sans that takes a second to place, because they really weren't expecting to see Horror here. And fighting Dust. Frisk is disappointed in him.

When the dust (magical and otherwise) settles, everyone ends up having a civilized conversation by the combined forces of Frisk and Nightmare. Killer and Dust were having fun, but not much was getting accomplished with massive property damage. It comes out that Nightmare's crew was coming by to get Frisk and rescue them from their endless tumble through the multiverse (which Error claims is giving him a headache anyway), and Frisk is very happy to agree to that part, and also to go live in a cool castle "for the time being." Allegedly, they will find somewhere else to stay soon, because Nightmare is not running a daycare for wayward interdimensional youth.

Frisk's condition is that Dust has to come with them, since he's been hopping through dimensions following them for so long now that they don't know what they'd do without him. Literally, every time the Barrier comes down, he waits for the hole in the world to open, takes a couple warm-up steps, and dives through after Frisk--he hasn't found a universe he could stand to stay in, yet. He hates the idea of living among people he remembers killing over and over again. At least if he follows Frisk around, he's with someone who seems to care about him for mystery reasons, and he might some day find an AU he'd be okay with. Maybe whichever one they settle with, if they find a way to stop falling. Which, it seems like they've got an opportunity here.

Nightmare is a-okay with gathering another unhinged duckling to take under his wing and occasionally let loose on unsuspecting universes (it's enrichment!!). He's seen that Dust is a great fighter, not too broken up about collateral, and having him around will make Frisk happy and therefore Horror will also be happy, therefore eternal loyalty, profit, etc.

(It has been a long time since Nightmare has been able to make someone he loves happy. It's been even longer since it's been so easy--what's one more mouth to feed? What's one more person who thinks Nightmare is capable of good without changing who he is?)

So Dust and Frisk end up moving in and Dust takes his place with the Bad Sanses.

Now there are a million things that could happen from here--well-meaning intervention from someone who discovers these psychopaths have kidnapped an innocent person for Clearly Nefarious Reasons, an intro scene between Frisk and Error (Error mentions that he's stolen their SOUL in uncountable universes and Frisk has no notable reaction to this, which really sucks the fun out of it for Error, so they end up watching trash TV together until Horror comes in to get Frisk for supper), Red's reunion with Frisk is gonna be great in any WT spinoff and especially in this, and general family sitcom shenanigans would be fantastic (can. can Dream babysit Frisk while everyone else is out. Nightmare absolutely forbids it bc Dream is a bad influence he doesn't like his people meeting Dream bc what if they like Dream more than they like Nightmare but what if it happens anyway. Ink wanders through while Error is babysitting and decides to Help, leading to an awkward day out with the Star Sanses, most of whom do not know Frisk at all. Ink forgets exactly who he's babysitting for and assumes they'll just come by and pick Frisk up eventually, which does happen, but there are a lot more accusations of kidnapping going around than is really necessary. Frisk and Blue are happy to see each other again at least).

Anyway this is,, a fantastic idea. rife with opportunity. I love it so much thank you for proposing it. wow,,

#whither then fic #writing tag #bluerose2017 #you're entirely correct and i am so glad you said something #sorry this took a while i got inspired #then it got uhh long #lol anyway i am not familiar with all of the multiverse but i think i did okay with this one!#i know horror and dust from general osmosis and dream and nightmare are interesting to me #in the sense that i throw out their canon and then have a great time #br. oth er s... ..#n e way idk if this was meant to be a prompt but thank you for it!!#im not sure it's enough of a story to post on ao3 but here is this thing

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Late (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: You’re getting married in two days and drunk Todoroki has something he needs to say.

Inspo: This Tiktok by avoeia

Word count: 1,985

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: Oh boy, hold onto your butts and grab some tissues, I’ve written myself deeper into my depression with this one. Have yourselves a nice little downward spiral with a small side of slow burn. Not gonna lie though, it feels really great to write angst again, it’s therapeutic in a way. Also I’m really not gonna write a sequel to this, I’m sorry :(. I’ll keep the ending open for you guys to decide what happens for yourselves or debate about it.

"Shouto," I hold back my giggles. Both of us are admittedly a little too drunk for either of us to be standing at all. Which is why we're face up on in the middle of the dance floor, his body facing the opposite way as me and his head still next to me. "Stop it, my stomach hurts!"

"And remember that time," the boy continues, his own speech garbled by petals of laughter, "When we were younger, you fell from a tree and you ended up getting dirt in your mouth, and I teased you for eating dirt, and you got so mad you actually scooped up a handful, stared me straight in the eyes, and ate it?" He rolls towards me, guffawing at the memory.

"You-!" I shove him aside, bursting out into my own fit of laughter again, the fuzzy image of his shocked face appearing before my eyelids. "You didn't think I could do it, so I did it, I had to show you up!"

Even through my spinning vision, I can tell Shouto's eyes have squeezed into crescents, the biggest smile on his face. Finally breathing to rest my aching stomach and lungs, I lay my head on my arms, admiring him with a dumb smile. He's looked so happy this entire day, it gives me a warm feeling inside to know he's living a better life than he did before.

He's changed so much in the past...wow almost 20 years? I think to myself, finally doing the math. We've known each other since we were five, meeting in Kindergarten and slowly building a friendship since then. There were rough patches on his part, starting from him father's push to train him into something he never asked for. Shouto would always sneak out every night, pouring his heart out to me with teary faces and anger I know I've only seen. Every insecurity, vulnerability, and regret of even being born, every dark secret and thought he's ever had towards his father, I've been there to help him through it.

Going through the same high school, I saw his change, even though I was in the General Studies class. Seeing him make other friends who helped him grow when I couldn't be with him all the time, I'll always be indebted to them for taking care of my good friend.

Now, seeing him as free, open, and joyful as he was when we were just stupid kids feels like it's all come full circle. As we lay here in the middle of a makeshift dance floor, the last people at a party that one of my other friends threw for me, strung up with alcohol still pumping through our veins, I realized he's matured so much.

"Thank you for being in my life, Shouto," I mutter softly. "I can't imagine anyone else being here with me right now, before I move into the next part of my life." I chuckle to myself. "I wouldn't want anyone else next to me right now."

Shouto's laughter finally dies down, wiping the tears off his face. The purple-pink colored lighting casts onto half his face, bicolored hair sweeping into his eyes. His tie and the first few buttons on his shirt are carelessly undone and his cheeks flush because of the alcohol. "Yeah. Who knew you'd get married before me? You always said I was the more attractive one."

"Shut up," I scoff, poking his forehead. "So what if I did? There are some really mean but handsome people too."

"You're calling me mean?" he smirks.

"Maybe!"

Sharing another round of lighthearted chuckles, I scan his upside down face, my ear pressed again the cold, tile floor. We bask in the pleasantly heavy and warm nostalgia around us, our history that brought us here. It's funny how time passes but you always somehow end up in a similar place. Shouto stares back at me, fingering his now-empty bottle of beer while his eyes blink out of sync with each other. My eyelids slowly close, hearing the familiar sound of his breath in the timeless moment.

"I love you, (Y/n)."

Just like that, the spell breaks.

My eyes fly open. One look into his melancholy eyes tells me he doesn't mean it platonically. I force myself up to sit up, cold waves passing through me. Conflicting feelings of fear, surprise, anger, and closure mix together. Somehow, I knew this would happen for years, I was just waiting for the shoe to drop.

It's hard not to fall in love with your best friend. When you've seen them at their worst and their best, helped them through every growth milestone in their life, you can't help but fall in love with them. And I did, while we were still in middle school, maybe even earlier than that. I just never confessed because I didn't want to burden him with everything his father was putting him through, it was never the right time.

Funny how life works, giving you something you wanted just a few years too late.

"This was probably the worst time to say that, I admit." The rustling behind me signals that he's rolling up to sit also. "But I can't let you get married without me getting it off my chest first, it would have eaten away at me and something else would've happened. And I don't expect anything, I just want you to know how I feel."

I don't even know what I'm supposed to say to that now. The anger builds up inside me looking back at the entire history of our relationship. I wobble up to stand on my feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness that threatened to knock me back down.

"I know you're angry, and you have every right to be-"

"When did you come to this genius conclusion?" I snap.

There's a silence before he answers in a mumble, "In high school."

I whirl on him. "And you waited until now to tell me this?!" Noticing the shame embedded into his features, I run a hand through my hair in frustration. "I can't believe- What do you want me to say, Shouto? What did you think I was going to say?"

He rubs the back of his neck as he stands on his feet slowly. "I'll be honest, I didn't even think I'd be able to say it, I didn't think that far."

I huff and pinch the bridge of my nose. Well, since we're clearing the air. "Shouto," I start, calming my shaking figure down, "I...I loved you too, but I knew way earlier than you."

"Then why didn't you say anything?" he raises an eyebrow.

"How was I supposed to?" a bitter laugh escapes me. "In high school, you said you didn't think you can handle love! You wanted to focus on sorting out your identity and find yourself, and I respected that! And the only reason I didn't tell you before that is because your stupid dad was already giving you a hard time, why should I burden you with my feelings?" My hands cover my face as I wobble a few steps. I remember how torn up I was the few days after he admitted this to me. How was I supposed to feed my selfish desire when he needed support a different way? "It was just never the right time and you weren't ready. You needed a friend more than a lover at the time, and that's what I gave you."

"But what about now?" he steps closer to me.

"Shouto, I'm getting married in two days!" I yell at him. "I got over you because I thought you would take a long time to be ready, but obviously you were just lying to yourself!"

His mismatched eyes downcast. "I know, I'm sorry. If I wasn't a coward about everything and I had sorted out my feelings earlier, we wouldn't been in this mess."

I sigh, blinking back the frustrated tears starting to pool in my eyes. "Don't apologize for that. You're not the best at emotions anyway."

In the silence that followed, I think about what he said. If he had said something sooner, or if I'd been selfish, where would things have been? What kind of life would I have lived with him? He'd probably be the one I would be walking down the aisle towards. The image chokes me up with tears again. I feel guilty that my heart skipped a beat seeing it.

Shouto patters up to me and rests his hands on my quivering shoulders. "Do you...still love me?"

A sob escapes at his question, unable to hold back anymore. "I loved you for so long, it wasn't easy to get over." I swipe my tears off my face. "But I love him too, Shouto, and I can't abandon that just because we sorted this all out now. That's not fair."

I didn't have any regrets or lingering feelings saying yes when he proposed to me, why am I feelings this now? It makes me feel worse.

"I suppose it wasn't meant to be, then," my friend whispers quietly.

Overwhelmed with emotion and my running stream of tears, I throw myself into his chest and he immediately wraps his arms around me, stroking my head softly. "Idiot," I cry, "We're both idiots."

"I know," he agrees quietly. "It's better this way. I probably won't make you as happy as he will." I don't know if he truly believes that or he's just saying that for me, or for him, or for both of us. "Just look at the mess I made now, I'm quite the homewrecker." At the small breath of a chuckle I let out, he gently cradles my cheeks in his palms. "You'll live a great life with him and you'll love him as you did me, I know you will."

I lean into his touch. "You were my first, it won't be the same."

"I know," he offers me a sad smile and wipes the remaining wetness from my eyes, "But you have to try."

I sniff, trying to keep anymore tears from falling. "Damnit, Shouto, look what you've done. You did this to ruin my wedding on purpose, didn't you?"

"It wasn't my intention, I just wanted to be honest." He runs his hands down my arms. "I think you've had enough partying and drama for the day. Off to bed."

He gently leads me by the arm into my bedroom, turning his back to let me change. The fact that he even remembers which drawer has my pajamas in them as he picks out a set makes my heart sink. Leaving me to get a glass of water, he returns once I've settled down onto my bed, legs held to my chest.

"Alright, get to sleep." He pulls the covers over my legs and guides me to lay down. This all reminds me of the time I got drunk at our graduation party and Shouto had to carry my drunk ass home and put me to bed. Smoothing the sheets and blanket over me, he turns off the bedside lamps and stands up.

"Shouto," I shoot up and grab his wrist before he leaves. I hate letting him leave like this. I've already rescinded my fate, but part of me still wants to be selfish.

He understands without me saying anything else, but he doesn't oblige me much. Laying me back down, he brushes my hairline with his thumb and plants a lingering kiss on my forehead. The small act holds so much affection that I know he's still suppressing. "Goodnight, (Y/n). Sleep well," he whispers.

With that, he rises and leaves the room silently. His familiar footfalls decrescendo as he walks through my apartment, opening and shutting my door, leaving me trembling myself to sleep, lamenting what could have been.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki angst #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki shouto #todoroki imagine #todoroki scenario #gender neutral reader #mha angst #mha todoroki #bnha todoroki #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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paprikadevil45 · 4 years

Text

Catching up (DD AU - prologue)

Warning: suicidal content

The garden was motionless, forgotten, a time capsule from the past that was left to rot. Among the ruins of dead plants and broken spires however lied two gems, one was a pearl her hair was curled into two buns on both sides of her head one of her eyes were missing in it’s place was a large crack that cascaded across her face she wore a magenta bodice that was companied by a translucent skirt, and a pair of magenta gloves. Standing beside her was spinel a different gem type than she was, her hair was put up into two large heart shaped pigtails made to match her gem, she wore a bowtie on top with poofy sleeves on her shoulders along that stood over her white and light pink top below it was poofy hot pink shorts with diamond insignias stitched into them and to match was a pair of striped stockings and hot pink shoes. Although the two had looked nice, nowadays they weren’t their best pink pearl’s skirt was raggedy and ripped spinel’s pigtails were matted and messy to the point where you could barely tell if they were hearts at one point, you may question why these two looked so awful well it’s rather simple they were waiting for someone, Pink diamond to be precise which wouldn’t be that much of a problem if it weren’t for the fact they had been waiting for pink to return for over 6,000 years. Despite it all they still remember what they knew about pink, her beautiful diamond shaped eyes, her wonderful smile, and her joyous laughter that could easily bring joy to anyone, the two stood in silence with one another the area so quiet you could hear a pin drop, pink pearl looked over to her rubberhose companion unlike spinel she was a little more patient given she had been waiting for pink from time to time ever since she got her scar. Suddenly a noise rang out catching pearl off guard she looked over to where it was coming from, it was the old transmitter trying to display a message of sorts this immediately surprised pearl, nothing like this ever happened when they were waiting “PSST!!! Spinel!!!” Pearl gestured towards the gem next to her as soon as pearl said something spinel sprang to life her eyes darting in all directions before she finally layer her eyes upon the old transmitter “Steven ~ 🎵” the message sang “have you heard the tale of Steven ~ 🎶” the two continued listening and watching the message curiosity. It had been years since they’ve gotten some form of message from homeworld maybe it could be some form of message from pink, maybe it could even explain what had been taking pink so long, suddenly a gem came on screen it was white diamond leader of the diamond authority and ruler of homeworld now this had really caught there attention “And now dear gems everywhere” White said in her booming voice “I’m pleased to announce that Steven is finally ready to take pink diamond’s throne” the camera panned down to a new creature one that was unlike anything they had seen, the creature was short chubby with short curly hair and was wearing a jacket of sorts “how’s it going everybody” the suppose it creature named Steven said Spinel was paying close attention at this point, while pearl was more confused if anything “i know you think of me as the new pink diamond but I already have a rightful place, and it’s on earth” earth! That was the planet given to pink for her first colony, did something happen to it!? Spinel thought concerningly “it’s a beach house where i live with my friends Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl” pink pearl face’s once a look of curiosity now turned to worry “as much as i’ve loved dismantling the empire and saving all your planets” the stranger stated “i can’t wait to get home and spend some time with my friends” Pearl looked at the creature’s face she noticed something his face it looked familiar the smile, the look in his eyes, it all felt like she’d seen it before than the realization hit her “that creature it wasn’t just someone she knew....it was her...it was pink diamond” suddenly pearl interrupted by sound of snapping she looked over to see spinel running towards the transmitter “Spinel!!!! What are you doing!!!” Pink pearl started moving trying to catch up with the speeding gem, it was rather hard given she hadn’t used her legs in a long time. The transmitter died down finally and spinel stopped in her tracks before dropping on her knees. Pink pearl collapsed right next to the stretchy gem “spinel! what’s gotten into you-“ Pearl stopped in her words upon seeing the look upon the gem’s face, usually when looking at spinel’s face she'd see some form of a smile or joy but here all that she saw was the look of a heartbroken reflection of what once was “THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING” spinel spilled out between violent hiccups as she continued to bawl wildly tears rushing out of her eyes like a river, pink pearl was taking in everything too quickly “why did pink look like that?” “What did she mean when she said she was going to spend some time with her friends?” “When did she get a new pearl even?” She thought, she looked over to spinel only to see nothing, looking around she saw something, something horrible, spinel was over a few meters away her back was turned to pearl, she was holding a large boulder bigger that her entire body above her head what was she trying to do? realization hit her “SPINEL DON’T!!!!!” She cried running towards the gem just as the rock was coming down Pink pearl leapt towards the suicidal gem she was able to catch her gem but was able to save her from poofing, the rock the ground with a loud thud leaving pink pearl on the ground. She got back up looking at the gem luckily it was unharmed but it still didn’t change what had just happened pearl felt tears rolling down her face as she looked at the gem, spinel would never do something like this or at least she thought, pearl was interrupted by a sudden cracking sound she put her hand to her broken eye to find her scar was getting worse the cracks were spreading now “no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no” she repeated her stress levels increasing as her mind raced, she wasn’t sure what to do everything happened so suddenly she wasn’t sure she held the gem close to her as she continued to cry before finally something happened pink pearl’s form began to glow and change the heart in the middle of her chest turning upside as the new fusion formed, sitting in place was a new gem her entire appearance pointy and threatening the fusion didn’t feel anything the only thing she felt was depression. Even during those thousands of years of waiting she still remembered pink’s voice the joy and wonder in it the playful words that accompanied it, little did she know that same voice would be filled with so many lies and so many secrets, she knew now the real reason why she was never told her to leave the garden not because she cared about her, but because she just wanted them gone from her life. Suddenly a new emotion found it’s way in the fusion a feeling of hatred towards everything a feeling that boiled in her mind that made her want to end another’s life, suddenly she screamed in a burst of anguish punching one of the many rotting spirals causing it to hit the ground with a louder crash, after it hit the ground she stood there for a couple of minutes before she started giggling to herself it felt good to do that strangely, soon after that she continued to destroy garden punching more pillars, chucking rocks as hard as she could even ripped out rotting flowers and patches of grass out of the already rotted ground. Finally her giggling turned into a wicked laughter as she jumped up aiming towards the fountain jumping and coming down upon it with her large inflated fists, the fountain breaking into a million with loud crashing noise as shards of it went everywhere as soon as she got back up she continued to laugh “GOD that felt good!!!” The new fusion yelled out after a while of laughing to herself she looked over to the transmitter the only thing that wasn’t broken a wide grin plagued her face as she started moving towards the warp pad “welp that was fun” she started “but now I think it’s about time i do some well needed catching up with a certain old friend of mine” she said leaping on to the warp looking down at the wreckage that was left of the garden “see ya real soon Pinky ~” she finally said right before teleporting off for the first time in a million years leaving the garden a crumpled mess than it already was

The End

#steven universe #dynamic duo au #spinel #pink pearl

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Free As I’ll Ever Be (Five)

Holy long break between chapters, sorry about that! Welcome back to the story though, our boys finally get Some Things Said.

MASTERLIST HERE

********************

Mickey couldn’t text all the time. A contraband cell phone was a sure way to get in trouble if the guards were feeling particularly tough that day or if his bitchy cell mate decided to make a ruckus. He had to wait until the middle of the night, or a quiet minute during the day for a little bit of privacy just to power the thing on and send a quick message and Ian understood—

—okay Ian didn’t understand, he didn’t understand why life was so fucking unfair that the one time he and Mickey were actually communicating it was from behind bars and at random times. He didn’t understand that at all.

But he understood that Mickey was trying and that made the wait worth it. So he kept his phone on all the time and checked every message immediately just in case, and in the between time he kept right on writing letters.

—Mick,

—Maybe we should start over. Not talk about what happened but like… about normal things. Regular things that regular couples talking about and fuck, I know we weren’t ever regular or normal ( is anyone from the south side either of those things) but I don’t want every time we write to each other to be angry and emotional and…. and awful.

— Maybe we just talk about normal things.

Sometimes their letters were long as Ian talked about his family, about Fiona and her weird not-quite-marriage to Gus and then how quickly she’d fallen in with Sean, about Debbie and the pregnancy and Frank’s odd obsession with suddenly supporting her. Lip and college falling apart and his drinking, Carl-- whatever the hell Carl was doing-- and Liam who Ian was sure couldn’t do anything wrong, and god fuckin’ help the kid if he ended up like any of them.

He talked about his slow start to being a paramedic and how it made him feel less crazy, less useless, to be helping people and when he skipped over the moment where his boss found out about his disorder and nearly fired him, Ian also skipped over the part about Caleb.

Nothing had happened yet and the way Caleb had pulled back the other night sure made it seem like nothing was going to happen soon, so Ian didn’t see any reason to bring it up.

It wasn’t like he was cheating on Mickey, right? They weren’t dating and they certainly weren’t together with Mickey locked up and Ian had a right to date around if he wanted…

...it still felt weird, so he didn’t mention Caleb.

Or his disorder.

Or anything that might take the conversation beyond the level of casual.

It was probably easier this way for Mickey too, easier to start over and pretend like they didn’t have years of trauma between the two of them, right?

-- This is weird, but I realized the other day I don’t know what your favorite color is. All the time we spent together and I never asked. It sort of made me wonder what else I don’t know about you. What’s your favorite food? TV Show? We should do twenty questions and find out all the shit about each other normal neighbors and friends would know.

Sometimes Mickey’s hand shook when he wrote Ian back, the effort of holding back all the things he was finally ready to say making his fingers tremble. Ian wanted to keep things casual, wanted to start over, wanted to put up distance between them even now, even after everything and it didn’t seem real fuckin’ fair and Mickey shook with trying to keep it all inside.

Twenty questions? Ian wanted to play twenty fucking questions like he hadn’t already seen Mickey turned inside out and desperate to get to him. What the hell did his favorite color matter when he thought his damn heart would beat out of his chest every time he turned on the phone and saw Ian’s name waiting there in a message? Who the hell cared what show he liked or whether or not spy movies were better than military movies?

Mickey didn’t fucking care but he clenched his teeth and tightened his jaw and wrote back answers to each one of Ian’s inane questions because none of it mattered but Ian was still talking to him and maybe it was pathetic to want it so badly, but Mickey did and that was all there was to it.

Besides, maybe it felt a little bit nice to read about the Gallagher chaos. The family was bat shit crazy but they were still family and wound through Ian’s complaints about Lip or issues with Debbie’s willingness to be a fifteen year old mom was love and acceptance for his sibling’s shenanigans, a level of understanding that Mickey had only had briefly from Mandy and never from anyone else sharing the name Milkovich.

-- Favorite color is blue. And then alien red and fucking green. Probably black, I dunno.

Ian used the letters like a journal sometimes, listing out his day and his week and Mickey read those ones over and over cos it made him feel a little bit closer, a little more connected. Maybe it helped Ian remember his day better, maybe it helped him feel steady like his mind wasn’t slipping, maybe it was just because he really didn’t have anything else to say, but either way Mickey read them over and over and over.

And over and over and over every single bland fact hurt because Mickey had lain his entire heart out there for Ian to trample over… and the redhead still found it so easy to start over and talk about normal things.

Normal things.

As if anything ever in Mickey’s life had ever been fucking normal.

It didn’t seem real normal that when Mickey was finally ready to say everything he wanted to say, when he was safe enough to admit the things he hadn’t even able to whisper in the dark--

--the person he wanted to say them to didn’t want to hear it.

That didn’t seem real normal at all.

From Ian: You crossed out a lot in the last letter.

From Ian: Thanks. Dunno if I can handle talking about all that. I know we have to talk about Svetlana and your dad and me going fucking crazy eventually, but I can’t do it yet.

From Ian: So thanks for crossing it out.

And like an absolute fucking idiot because even now Mickey would do anything for him:

From Mickey: No worries. Don’t want to talk about it anyway.

************

It was a bad week, Mickey could tell from Ian’s more recent letter so it wasn’t a surprise when he turned on his phone one night and found a bunch of texts waiting.

From Ian: Why didn’t you love me back then.

From Ian: I don’t want you to love me now, not when I’m not who I was last year or the year before or who I was my entire fucking life. I don’t want you to love me now I wanted you to love me then, why didn’t you love me then.

From Ian: I needed you and you pushed me away

From Ian: All the damn time. Couldn’t be seen with me, didn’t want to be seen with me, wouldn’t let me kiss you

From Ian: At fifteen I would have done anything for you to just smile at me for some reason other than I just got you off. Why the hell couldn’t you give me anything.

From Ian: Why didn’t you love me?

Mickey took a deep breath and rubbed at his eyes. A quick check of the time stamp proved the messages had been sent hours ago which meant Ian was either feeling better again and didn’t want to talk, or was still spiraling over whatever had set him off.

He probably could have turned the phone back off and gone to sleep, written Ian a letter back and acted like the texts hadn’t happened but-- why didn’t you love me-- burned into his eyes and made his throat tighten up in sadness and maybe even anger and Mickey was texting back before he stopped himself, fingers flying over the keys and hitting send before he could convince himself not to write it.

Ian had asked if they talk about normal things, but then he goes and dumps this at Mickey’s feet and all over his heart?

No fucking way.

From Mickey: You’re bein’ real fucking stupid if you think I didn’t love you back then.

From Ian: Am I?

From Mickey: Real fucking stupid, Gallagher. Back off.

From Ian: Fiona says everyone could see how much you loved me, but it sure wasn’t obvious to me. Fuck Mickey, you told me you’d cut my tongue out if I tried to kiss you.

From Mickey: THE FIRST TIME.

From Mickey: and not wanting to be kissed up doesn’t mean anything. Maybe I just didn’t like to be kissed.

From Ian: You threatened to send me to the psych ward! Told me I was going to the hospital even if you had to send me to the ER for it.

From Mickey: I’d break your fucking leg myself before I let you run around sick and hurting like that. Fuck off.

The phone stayed dark for a long time, long enough that Mickey assumed Ian had fallen asleep, or pitched the phone out the window or decided the conversation wasn’t worth finishing.

And it wasn’t worth finishing, was it? Ian had been pretty clear about not wanting to talk about this sort of stuff but damn it the asshole had brought it up first, it would be a shitty move on his part to just ditch.

...shitty, but Mickey wouldn’t put it past him. He knew full well how much easier it was to say ‘fuck off’ and walk away instead of dealing with anything real.

But then--

From Ian: Was that supposed to be romantic? Telling me you’d break my leg to keep me from running around sick?

From Mickey: It’s supposed to be proof that I fucking love your skinny ass

From Ian: ...

From Ian: …

From Ian: I’m not all that skinny anymore.

And Mickey laughed a little bit, rubbed at his face and wet his lips then texted back.

From Mickey: Yeah, you’re fucking gorgeous is what you are.

From Ian: You think I’m gorgeous?

From Mickey: *middle finger emoji*

From Ian: No I’m serious. All you ever called me was pasty or alien or ginger or firecrotch. You think I’m gorgeous?

From Mickey: What part of the middle finger fucking picture didn’t you get? I think you’re gorgeous, so what?

From Ian: Tell me the truth then

From Ian: You were willing to love me with everything going on. Anger issues and weird outbursts and all the medications and the depressions and then mania. You were willing to love me? You chose this mess? For real?

From Mickey: Don’t think it was a choice, Ian. I loved you. Period. Right up until you stated cheating on me.

From Ian: You didn’t love me after that?

Mickey swallowed and sat back on the bed, put the phone down on his chest so he didn’t have to stare at the light for a minute and closed his eyes.

There’d been a time he’d never told Ian about, the night before Ian had ran away with Yev when Mickey had gone to the club looking for him. One of the guys there had been all too thrilled to tell Mickey that Ian had left with someone else, that Ian had looked happy about it, that he was setting out to have a good time that night.

Mickey still remembered how it had felt to beat the shit outta that guy, he still remembered the way his eyes had stung and vision blurred because he was so angry he wanted to kill someone and he was so hurt he wanted to kill himself.

I came out for you. He’d said as he kicked the guy that wasn’t Ian, the guy that hadn’t actually done anything to deserve it. I came out for you because it had been the hardest, most honest thing Mickey had done in his entire life and Ian had went and cheated on him.

I came out for you.

From Mickey: Love means you’re loyal, Gallagher. Sposed to be fuckin’ loyal.

From Ian: I never said I loved you.

And Mickey’s heart shattered right there in his chest.

From Mickey: Yeah, I’m real fucking aware.

**************

The letter came later.

-- Fuck you, Gallagher

-- You wanted me to come out, you wanted me to be your boyfriend and kiss you or whatever. You begged me to admit I loved you but you sure had no problem never saying it to me.

-- You cheated on me when we were trying to be a family. I got all domestic and all that shit and you would still rather go out and fuck old men. Figured you’d stop that once I got it together but you didn’t. Problem wasn’t me or us needing money or your fucking mess, you just didn't love me.

-- You told me you wanted me to be me, the south side fucking thug trash you fell for but what the hell does that mean? Wanna get high together and fuck? Want to get drunk and me pull down my pants enough to fit your dick and then push you away? Want me to threaten to cut your tongue out if you want a kiss?

--HOW IS ANY OF THAT BETTER THAN WHAT WE HAD

-- I finally figured out how to give you what you wanted and then you didn’t want it anymore. Didn’t want me anymore.

-- I COULDN’T EVEN GET IT UP AFTER YOU RAN OFF TO THE ARMY AND I FUCKING TRIED. I tried women, I tried redheads, finally gave in after you left with fucking Monica and tried it with some fucking fairy ass twink but it was shit. It was shit and I blamed it on the alcohol so he wouldn’t know how fucking pathetic I was.

-- I know you didn’t love me cos if you loved me it would have been real easy for you to just come home. Every time you and I were apart it was real easy for me to come right back to you cos I loved you.

-- You didn’t love me and you can’t tell me you did.

-- fuck you

******************

--Mickey

-- They only had my body.

--Just my body.

--Not my heart and not my mind.

-- When I knew who I was and what the hell I was doing, I swear my heart and mind was yours

************

From Mickey: Was it my fault?

The text came an hour before sunrise and Ian rolled over in bed and squinted at the screen for a minute trying to make sense of the words.

From Ian: Was what your fault?

From Mickey: Your break. Crack. Whatever the hell happened when you left for the army. Me and Svet and the wedding and not wanting to come out. My fault. I broke you?

From Ian: What? No. No I guess the bipolar shit comes out around eighteen or nineteen anyway. I bet what happened with us didn’t make it better, but it wasn’t your fault, don’t think that.

From Mickey: Well was the dancing my fault? Made it seem like you couldn’t come to me when you got home again?

From Ian: None of it was your fault, Mick.

From Ian: The drugs were easy and the dancing was easy and I needed something easy cos everything else was too difficult. I needed to control something of my life cos it felt like I couldn't control anything.

From Mickey: Control.

From Mickey: That’s why you told me I had to suck you off whenever you wanted if I wanted you to come back to the house after Svet made you leave.

From Ian: Well I mean… it was nice to have the upper hand for once.

From Mickey: The fuck does that mean, the upper hand?

From Ian: You always had the upper hand with us. You picked where we met and when, how long it lasted and all that shit. Just once it was nice to think I caught you off guard, maybe I was making the rules.

From Mickey: Making the rules. I was trying to bring you home and you were worried about who was making the rules?

The text sat on read for a long time before Ian got the courage to answer again, swallowing past the lump of guilt and the glaring reminder that he had been so fucking blind to what Mickey had felt for so long.

From Ian: Mickey, listen

From Mickey: The last time I had the fucking upper hand was when you snuck into my room with a goddamn crow bar or some shit. I threw you on the bed and pinned you down, then you got up into me and that was the last fucking time I ever had the upper hand.

From Mickey: You think I had any control?

From Mickey: You had me fucked from day one Gallagher.

**************

“Ian?” Fiona paused halfway through the bedroom door and cocked her head at him. “What are you doing? Is that my hair spray?”

“Gotta look nice today.” Ian carefully carefully combed at his hair and then smoothed his shirt down. “Gotta go see Mickey.”

“Did he ask you to come?”

“No, no of course not.” He shook his head quickly. “I’m just going to show up. I paid Svetlana to stay home so I can see Mickey instead. I have to talk to him.”

“...and tell him…?”

“I’m tired of finding out that I saw things wrong between me and Mick.” Ian said bluntly. “Yeah we were kids, yeah we were both going through shit but I keep finding out that I had no idea how he felt and it makes me mad. Now I know, now he needs to know how I feel.”

“Ian--”

“I’ve loved Mickey since I was fifteen.” he cut in and Fiona smiled a little bit. “And he thinks I didn’t, just like I didn't think he loved me. It’s bullshit is what it is, so we’re going to get it sorted out today.”

“Ian are you sure--”

“I had a bad week last week.” he interrupted again. “And I sent Mick a whole bunch of texts giving him all sorts of shit for not loving me back when I needed him, for not being there for me like I wanted. I told him I would’ve done anything for him just to smile at me for real but all he ever did was push me away. You know what he said?”

“What did he say?”

“He told me that he would never let me run around sick, that he had never had a choice in loving me, that the last time he had the upper hand in anything was the first time we hooked up.” Ian watched Fiona’s eyes widen in the mirror. “Mickey said all that. Told me he knew I didn’t love him because I cheated and that even when he tried to cheat, he couldn’t really manage it. He loves me so much and I never once told him I loved him.”

“So today I’m gonna go tell him I love him.” Ian shrugged, because it was suddenly the easiest thing in the world to say. “And that’s all there is to it.”

“Alright then, good for you.” She watched another moment. “Why are you wearing your EMT uniform though? You aren’t working today.”

“Oh.” Ian’s grin was half past ridiculous. “Mickey loves how I look in uniform.”

****************

Mickey would cut a bitch before admitting it, but he was looking forward to seeing Svetlana and the baby.

Svetlana had gotten nicer after that first visit when Ian had come along, her words less cutting and her eyes a little softer every time she asked how he was doing. The baby seemed to recognize him a little bit more or that might just be cos Yev was interested in everything at this age, but his gummy smile made Mickey smile, and when Mickey smiled, so did Svet.

When the guard told him he was up for visitors, Mickey even took the chance to run some water through his hair and at least wipe his face down. He wasn’t gonna pretty up for the damn woman, but at least this way she wouldn’t make some remark about him looking like a dog she’d leave behind or whatever else she muttered in Russian.

But it wasn’t Svetlana sitting on the other side of the glass and Yevgeny wasn’t anywhere in sight, so Mickey sat down slowly, uncertainly, and picked up the phone.

“The fuck you doing here?” he asked after a minute. “Figured it was Svet and the kid.”

“Is this okay?” Christ Ian looked good up close, filling out the blue EMT ensemble in a way that brought Mickey’s uniform kink roaring back to the surface.

He’d always been a sucker for Ian in uniform.

“I thought if I asked to come see you, you’d say no. Figured sneaking in was better.” Ian raised those fucking ginger eyebrows at Mickey as if daring him to disagree. “Was I wrong?”

“Nah, I would’ve told you to fuck off.” Mickey sniffed and glanced away, hunched his shoulders a little and sniffed again. He felt open, exposed and vulnerable after admitting so much through text and letters. It was one thing to say it all under the cover of dark and another to say it face to face, under unflattering lights and through too thin glass.

It was open and sort of terrible and Mickey hated it, but this close he could see that Ian was uncomfortable too, that he was fidgety and awkward and trying to choose his words carefully and maybe that made things a little less awful.

Upper hand, huh?

“How’s the tattoo?” Ian asked then and Mickey grimaced, his hand automatically rubbing over the raised ink. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not infected anymore.” Mickey hesitated, then hesitated again and then finally tugged the collar of his shirt down so Ian could see the hand done tattoo, the scraggly letters and that fucking misspelling. “Still looks like shit. When I get outta here I’m gonna get it removed, or get it done over or something. Don’t wanna walk around with this mess on me.”

He was talking a lot, saying a lot and saying it quick, eyes darting over to the guard, down the line of prisoners, over to the clock and then down at the cracked counter, anywhere except right into Ian’s green gaze.

“It was a stupid idea.” he said more to himself than anyone. “Couldn’t even spell it right, didn’t do me any good cos you didn’t want to see--”

“It’s beautiful.” Ian blurted, and Mickey’s mouth clicked shut with an audible pop. “Fuck, Mickey. It’s beautiful.”

“... no it isn’t.” Mickey kept looking away, but then Ian murmured, “You’re beautiful.” and Mickey went very, very still.

“How have I never told you that before?” Ian was whispering now, big hand pressed flat to the window. “I never told you I loved you and I never said you’re beautiful?”

Mickey popped his knuckles, leaned away from the window and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Shook his head and cleared his throat and shook his head again and fuck what the hell was he supposed to say-- why the hell was Ian talkin’ this sorta shit--

“You didn’t break up with me after my diagnosis.”

“No.” Mickey felt like his voice was hoarse, like he could barely get the words out. “No, it took me a couple days to get my shit together but I showed up.”

“You didn’t give up on me.” Ian inched closer to the window, curled his shoulders in and held the phone tighter so he could whisper into it. “You always came back.”

“Y--yep.”

“You wanted me to stay after the wedding, never wanted me to go but just couldn’t say it.”

“What’s your fucking point, Gallagher.” Mickey didn’t mean to snap but he did anyway cos hell if he wasn’t shaking just hearing Ian say this, just knowing fucking firecrotch actually knew that he had tried back then, he’d really really tried.

“An MP put a gun on you and you still tried to get to me.”

“Yeah, yeah I did.” Mickey finally looked up, finally met Ian’s gaze head on, finally quit being a pussy and let himself listen. “What about it?”

“I love you.” Ian whispered, looking as fucking truthful as a damn alter boy. “And I’m sorry I haven’t said it until now.”

“You broke up with me.” Bitter. Savage. Mickey hunched in too, not to be close but to hide, to disappear because all the sudden he wasn’t real sure he could handle hearing this. “You broke up with me, Ian.”

“I thought I said it a bunch of different ways, but I guess I never did.”

“I told you I loved you, and you laughed in my face. Said you didn’t know what that meant.” Mickey challenged. “I said I’d take care of you and you acted like it was the dumbest thing you’d ever heard!”

“I know.” Ian nodded quickly. “I know. I’m sorry. I love you, Mick.”

“You wouldn’t-- you wouldn’t--” Fuck. “-- you wouldn’t even look at me.”

“I know.”

“I said I was free with you and you said it wasn’t enough.”

“I know.”

“Fuck you, Gallagher.”

“Yeah.” Ian smiled and it had no business looking so damn adoring. “Yeah, I know. I love you.”

Mickey had never felt so fucking fragile in his life, and every bit of self help bullshit he’d learned in the last few months disappeared in a split second when he tossed the phone down and walked away from the window, away from Ian, away from all the things he couldn’t handle Ian saying.

….guess now he understood why Ian needed to only talk about normal things, huh? Mickey didn’t realize how hard it was to hear-- to hear--

-- there was a letter on Mickey’s bunk when he got back, it must have been mail call while he was not listening to Ian and now he had something to read. But no one ever wrote him except Ian so…

-- Mickey

-- I never knew ‘fuck you’ could mean ‘i love you’ until you said it.

-- You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life

-- I love you

“I love you too.” Mickey whispered to no one, said the words quietly quietly into the cell. “You’re under my skin man, nothing I can do.”

“...nothing I can do.”

***************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER

****************

@the-southern-sweetiepie @lele-hemmo @elliotkaingrey @castiel-beyond-and-forever @shotabear28 @onimi18 @pootie-and-the-snoots @stutteringandmumbling @girlnic @miss-macca @a-procrastinating-blogger @supmorg @layweebookfreak @eversomniator @korrababy @idontwanna-wakeuplonely @megahuffledor @pixiebomber @kit-02 @quertsod @sunflowertingzzzz @pillow-junkie

#ncts fics #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless us

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nightwingshero · 4 years

Note

Full bingo angst answers for Wren please! 💋💕

Thank you, baby!!! Kinda hitting it where it hurts today, huh?

TW: Mentions of self-harm, alcohol abuse, and child loss...just kinda...it’s angsty. Sorry guys.

💙 What would your OCs last words be (or if they’ve died what were their last words)? What were their final moments like? How did they die?

Probably...man, knowing Wren, she’s gonna go down fighting and defending a loved one. She...Wren will use her Wrath to draw the attention to herself, even if she knew it was a battle she wouldn’t win--sacrificing herself to give the other person a chance. Her last words...would be deep and meaningful, something that would hit hard. She would either quote something with a deep meaning or something so pure from the heart...I could also see her saying “Free...I’m finally free.” Or maybe being excited to see her mom again.

💧 What’s the worst pain your OC has ever been in? Mental or physical? What was the cause of this?

That’s a toss up between her father blaming her for her mother’s death/being mentally and emotionally abusive or the car accident and losing the baby. Both had Wren spiraling in very different ways, both still giving her nightmares to the point of insomnia some nights. Then also losing John later in life. It hits her hard to know that her life partner died sacrificing himself for their son, and that he’s just...gone. It’s hard for her to bounce back from it.

🔷 Has your OC ever had to leave something behind or abandon something they didn’t want to? Have they ever had this happen to them? How has this effected them over the years?

There’s a locket, a gold locket with a tree on it, that her mother used to wear before she died. It was one of the things she held onto dearly after her mom died, because it was pretty much all she had. Her father got rid of most of Lily’s things, including the piano, and so Wren clung to it through her childhood, drawing strength from it. It “mysteriously” disappeared after her father found out about it, just a few days before she left for college. In turn, she stole her mother’s ashes to scatter them, but it still haunts Wren. It had a picture of the two of them together.

🔵 Has your OC lived through any particularly traumatic events? Does this event (or events) still effect them or have they tried to bury it? Is there a reason why this event is so traumatic for them?

JFC, where to even begin? Honestly, the cards are stacked against her in the worst way, I feel for her. The biggest ones would be abusive childhood, losing her mom, unhealthy relationship with college professor, the horrible car accident, the drinking problem that followed...Wren tries her best with it, truly. It still effects her, mostly through panic attacks (triggers) and her nightmares. She will fall into depressive episodes as well. Most of the time, she will bury it though, like, she’s guarded--if you’ve been through some shit, you could probably pick up on it, you know? But with anyone else, you can’t tell. She hides it well.

❄️ What is (one of) their biggest regrets or biggest mistake they’ve made? Is there anything they can do to fix this or is it so far gone there’s no point anymore? Is this something they dwell on a lot?

Wren...Wren is on the path of learning what she can and can’t control, and it’s...going as well as it can, because she has such a control issue. She tries to tell herself to not dwell on the things she can’t control...but the thing with Wren is that she needs to feel in control. The biggest ones would be the college professor and the path she took after the car accident. Wren hates giving parts of herself for it to be taken for granted or advantage of. She also sees the alcoholic chapter in her life was a little too close to her father than she cares to admit. But well...you can’t fix the past.

💦 Does your OC have any self destructive habits? Addictions? Urges? What is the cause of these or the reason for them?

Wren used to have a drinking problem, mostly because of an emotional thing versus having to have alcohol. She just used it as an outlet, but most of the time, it just lowered her walls and made her more emotional in a self-destructive manner--depressive, angry, and antagonizing. She would start fights, which is why she got in trouble and got her shit together. Wren internalizes too damn much, overthinking and jumping to conclusions based on her own observations because she’s not one to trust someone else’s intentions or words. While Wren isn’t judgmental, she’s very open minded and accepting--she can be quick to judge in cases where you’ve invoked her wrath. Did some shit when you were young? Who hasn’t, I still care and accept you. You just crossed and betrayed me? I’m going to make it my personal goal to make life hell for you-- She also has a tendency to use her wrath to push people away and then close off, hurting them both in the process.

🌊 What is your OC like at their most depressive? In the middle of a breakdown? Having a panic attack? What are they like with dealing with anxiety and stress?

Wren during a panic attack starts with her not being able to formulate actual coherent sentences because her mind is going so damn fast, and her hands shake. Her muscles will stiffen, making her super tense and she shuts down mentally. Most of the time, she will curl up on the ground (in the corner of a room, etc) with her legs hugged to her chest, forehead against her knees. Mostly to hide her face and to make herself as small as possible and to provide herself some sort of comfort (sometimes she’ll grip her hair, too). If someone catches it (if they know what to even look for), they can intercept and help kinda deter it. But Wren internalizes, closes herself even more, buys a ton of whiskey or wine, and just sits with her dark feelings. They consume her easily, which is why she usually tries not to drink when she’s down, it makes it too easy to spiral. Wren handles stress the best she can, but she internalizes that too. Anything negative has a chance of coming out in the form of wrath, so she can be a bit...yeah.

☄️ Does your OC struggle with their emotions and trauma? Do they find it easier to open up to strangers or those close to them if at all? Do they tend to hide their pain from everyone?

Wren struggles hard. Like, she has a harder time coming to terms or understanding the why behind everything, and has a constant struggle with her desire to change what happened that her emotions and traumas don’t fully get resolved. She’s so desperate to be free of it, but there are times where she’s holding her own self prisoner for it due to guilt and heartbreak. She will never open up to strangers, she doesn’t trust people easily, you have to have earned your way close to her before she’s confiding in you. She hides her pain (or tries to) from everyone, including herself. You have to actively pursue Wren and be supportive consistently for that to spill from her mouth.

📘 Write a sad journal entry, an unsent letter or short sad drabble. + bonus, give a theme!

A piece from Wren’s journal while going through therapy:

"I wish...it starts off normal, and it’s inconceivably misleading, but it draws me in anyway. Then...then its sneaking up on me, so before I know it, I’m in the deep-end, drowning in something dark and sticky, feeling as if it will become my second skin and suffocate me in the process. That’s when I start to hyperventilate, desperate and clawing to find the surface, but I can’t. I start crying, my chest constricting in panic. I turn...I turn and I see an open door, the inside is even blacker than what’s around me and I slowly start getting pulled back into it...and he just watches--laughing and taunting. I cry more, because there’s nothing else to do. Until the hand...it grabs me and yanks me back...I wake up then, screaming and panicking before the door slams shut. I take a shower once I wake up, because I can feel the hand, I feel the darkness on my skin. I don’t sleep most nights. Not anymore.”

🔹 Does your OC have any scars? What are the stories behind them? Do they have any mental scars? Talk about the effects of their trauma in general on their day to day life.

*Nervous Laughter* Scars....alright...so, Wren growing up would often resort to self-harm to cope, unfortunately. She avoided her wrists and opted for her inner thighs, aiming to hide the marks better. Once hitting college, she moved on from it, until the car accident. She started again once she spiraled, even using it a bit as she stopped drinking. It didn’t happen too often, just in major low points. She dropped it completely after she started going to therapy, learning to try and find healthier coping mechanisms. Wren’s traumas come out daily in the form of her having to be in control of herself and situation at all time. She’s the one driving, she makes her own choices, she sits on the outside in booths at diners and whatnot, having the option to leave when she wants. Wren hates feeling trapped and is super claustrophobic because her dad would lock her in the basement or her room for hours at a time. She buys a Jeep so she has the option to remove the top and the doors, everything in on her terms. You don’t touch her unless she wants you to, you don’t come visit her space unless she wants you to. Things like that.

#deputy wren blake #my ocs #answered #risenlucifer

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jaypelt · 4 years

Text

Cheers for Five Years of Undertale, and its Everlasting Effect on Me

Been a while since I’ve done one of these... I might even be rusty at it! Honestly, what I’ve got right now are more vague thoughts than coherent words in my head. I wasn’t sure if I’d even do this, since I felt it wasn’t entirely necessary. Everybody had so much to say! But spurned on by the display of someone very close to me, the cogs in my head couldn’t help but start turning for me too. So here I am. This isn’t going to be easy, though. Because if you read this, I need you to understand the depth of my feelings. Even if just a little. So I’ll do my best to bare my heart yet again, for the sake of it and everything its done for me. Everything it’ll keep doing for me.

The beginning is usually always one of the hardest parts. A blank space devoid of anything, that you’ve got to somehow miraculously fill with thoughts somebody else could understand. But Undertale is rarely a subject I ever have to struggle so much with. It’s been a long, long five years.

This is re-treading old ground that a number of those who know me are already familiar with, however, I don’t think this would be complete without it. But it will get very, VERY personal. If you’re not comfortable with that, then uh... giving you another warning now. But pushing forward...

Right before UT came out, I hadn’t begun to really unravel quite yet. But I was very close. It was somewhat of a rough transitional period as I moved on from my middle school to high, losing very dear IRL friends and generally continuing to struggle with school, as I had been for years. Untreated ADHD is real nasty. But I’d always had at least some friends, either online, or ones I made throughout the year, to rely on. And I didn’t really think about things. The start of this school year was no different. Even having a... perhaps questionable choice of boyfriend, but, well, he was my first.

I struggled with just about every aspect of school from basically the start, but having a small group, and especially an online partner to come home to everyday, helped me at least get through. In the coming months, however, I’d start to encounter more turbulence. Through aforementioned partner, I met someone who’d come to rely on me far more than he should have. Made even worse by the fact that he was a full grown adult while I was only 14, which will be a recurring trend. And has been for most of my life.

We hit it off pretty quickly, becoming good friends and talking to each other outside of mutual friend spaces. And through that, he started to open up about his problems. Living with a family that treated him poorly, suicidal urges, and particularly, an abusive boyfriend. If you know me well, I’ve probably definitely talked about this at least a little.

My daily routine starting becoming supporting this person through all of his troubles. Sitting in skype calls or exchanging messages for hours at a time on the daily. Rarely did a day go by where I didn’t, slowly sinking into an apathetic pit from overextending myself for the sake of his mental health. I couldn’t even help him improve, all I could do was just try to keep him alive. Which, well, I did. For months.

Everything else fell to the wayside as I was constantly stressed about the life of someone I cared about. Obviously my school life suffered even further. I grew withdrawn from everyone, and kept only to the few online friends I had. However, in the midst of this downward spiral, just before the ball really got rolling, a certain game came out. Exactly a month after it had come out, October 15th, 2015, I’d become interested after all the talk on tumblr about Undertale.

After watching a playthrough on youtube(I didn’t play for myself at first, a pity), It’d personally resonated so strongly and gotten me so hooked that it was something I invested a fair amount of my time into consuming content about. I grew super attached to all these characters that’d made me laugh, smile, cry... just this whole spectrum of emotions. And someone in particular, Alphys, really caught my attention after things had begun to get worse.

She felt so... relatable, though I couldn’t possibly tell you all the reasons. When I think about it, we’re not really the most similar, but something about her just hooked me. Maybe because she had all these things going on that nobody knew about. And that she lied. And felt so anxious interacting with anyone after she’d previously been much warmer and closer. That she was closer to “disappearing” than she seemed.

Whatever the reasons, the months moving further along, consuming content about UT practically became my lifeline. I reblogged heaps and heaps of posts about it, watched videos, listened to the soundtrack, even started drawing because I’d been so inspired. When I was just stuck in this horrible pit of second-hand depression, it was the one thing that still made me happy. I started to really think about why it mattered to me and how. It’s funny, I’d read books obsessively for years before then, but UT was the thing that really got me thinking. It was all downhill from there, I tell you. Now I’m an artist and a writer. Horrific.

But, unfortunately, for all its good... it couldn’t stop what was to come. I was still getting worse and worse, with no end in sight. I’d already been supporting... let’s call him Phil, for a few months. And in December of that year, my boyfriend completely dropped off the grid for a while. I’d see him appear online sometimes and I’d message him, but no response, then right back to offline. Finally, he came back, approaching me with something he obviously was uncomfortable about.

To make a long story short, he’d come to the conclusion that he was straight, and decided to end the relationship. What’s bad is that... honestly? I was already doing so poorly that I had a hard time caring. But we did pretty much stop talking, and I leaned into Undertale all the more. Anyway, time continued to pass. Not without its few ups, and mostly downs. I got used to being called “mature”, usually followed by “especially for your age.” “Phil” told me that if I were legal, he’d date me. I’ve got a crippling fear of screwing up with people that’s stuck with me to this day, after a few occasions involving him. I considered doing some... not so great things to myself. Thankfully, I was always so averse to physical pain that it didn’t become anything extreme.

As for the few ups, there was “Phil” finally managing to leave his abusive relationship, when he’d tried previously and fallen into such a bad depressive episode I had to talk him down. So that was something. He’d even started going to therapy after the second break up.

Not that it did a whole lot. The school year began approaching its end and nothing had really changed. I’d been going through all the same motions for around half a year or more. My sleep was terrible, I was passing almost none of my classes, had practically no friends to speak of, and just felt... tired. All the time. But during this... the minute beginning of a monumental shift started. Another character in UT had begun to clutch me in his grasp. Even more strongly than Alphys. Flowey. Through the posts a singular person on tumblr had made about him and my experience with the geno run, I came to understand the dumb little flower more. Which is also funny, because he was previously my least favorite. Even, yes, after the Asriel reveal.

I’m having a difficult time weaving together this convoluted timeline of events, but it was around... perhaps March or early April that the person whom I’d been supporting for almost a full fucking year completely disappeared. Without a word. The one thing I’d tried to stick to for so long was just. Gone. So I drifted about with, well, no purpose.

By the end of the school year, it probably goes without saying that I was... not doing great. But one those aforementioned acquaintances I’d only just started to become actual friends with came forth to me with a question. That being if there was some way for us to keep contact during the summer. So I gave her my email, which would turn out to be a decision that saved my life. Because things would only get worse before they got better.

This is getting to be way, way, way too long. So to summarize, summertime came around and I’d been in pretty close contact with... I’ll just call her V. She was... well, unlike anyone I’d ever known. Someone who stood out with the intelligence you could just see in their eyes. Outgoing, charismatic, compassionate... all those sorts of things. We were opposites in a lot of ways. Or, at least, it felt like it.

Some things happened, like “Phil” coming back after months of nothing. Me immediately slotting back into my role of being a pillar of support, but then screwing up and hating myself for it. But honestly, that ain’t shit to the rest of the whole shitshow.

For a bit of context, my parents are divorced. So for most of the previous years, I’d been going to my mom’s place during the summer and staying with her the whole time, to make up for how rarely we’d see each other otherwise. That year... she was beginning to run low on money. She lived next to my granny, but still basically alone, compared to how she’d been staying with someone else in hotels for the few prior years.

After learning she didn’t have enough to pay rent and might be kicked out, she tried to appeal to her mom, who said she wouldn’t let her stay. Why? I don’t know. After that, she spiraled into a panic. And, well, the ever faithful little worker bee, I stepped forward to try and console her in any way I could. She seemed to recompose, at least a little. It wasn’t great, and she thought she’d have to do some unsavory things in order to survive, but... I thought that, just maybe, I’d done something.

But... later that night, she started drinking. Which... well, put her in a mood. Exacerbated by the day’s earlier events and the fact that she was taking medication that responded poorly to alcohol. She came over to where I was sitting, my little makeshift desk I’d put together to set up my desktop, with my little sister just in the other room. Just... a warning for this next part, it’s... grim. More grim than anything else in this thread.

She proceeded to tell me she was going to go upstairs and grab the gun my granny kept in her room. And berated me for thinking I’d done anything to help, saying she “wasn’t like my little friends” that I could simply talk to. With that, she walked away, heading upstairs. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so crushed in my entire life, to this day. I broke down crying, sitting in that chair.

Yet, somehow, I managed to stop when I saw her coming back down. She walked back over, pointed the gun at her head, and told me to give her a reason she shouldn’t do it. And also to this day, I.... still don’t know if I said what was right. It was all I could think of. I quietly told her that if she did it, I’d pick that gun up and do it to myself. Same as her. And I asked if she wanted to be responsible for that.

It was true, too. By that point, I didn’t care anymore.

And if there’s one thing I can say about her, it’s that she’s always cared about me. In a horrible, twisted way especially, that night. It was enough to make her silently pull the gun down, go back upstairs, and put it away. One last time... she came down, walked past me to the front door and simply said “I love you.” before going out to sit on the porch.

I’m not sure I’ll ever truly get over the events of that night. I spoke to V afterwards, as I’d been keeping in regular contact, as I said. And even been speaking to her throughout the day about what was happening. I think she was panicking just as much as I had been, and told me to go find the gun and unload it. So I did. Bawling my eyes out the whole damn time. Afterwards, I took the bullets and threw them in the large neighborhood garbage can.

The rest of the night’s a blur. I don’t recall if anything else happened, I just remember waking up tired the next day. My uncle was in the house, as he’d been staying with my granny for a while, but hadn’t been around the night before. I tried to talk to him, but.. couldn’t bring myself to open up. Even though we were pretty close. I went back to my dad’s.

That wasn’t the end of it, either. For the next coming months, I’d get drunken calls and live in fear of being put right back in the same situation. It got so bad that I stopped answering my phone altogether. I broke contact with my mom entirely. I still hate answering or making calls.

Anyway, a few other things happened in the summer, like my applying for online courses. And the subsequent ridicule from my dad’s side of the family for the decision. Tell you what, the stress of taking a test to try and join that online program, then going to golden corral and having to struggle to not cry in front of everyone there was... not the ideal way to spend a birthday. Happy 15 years to me.

So.... that was that. I still went through with online courses and everything kind of... slowed to a crawl. I tried to do school work, but depression and still yet untreated ADHD prevented me from making any substantial progress beyond a few finished classes. For a while I simply... existed in a limbo. All I did was get up, get on my computer, maybe talk to a few people, and play Overwatch. Maybe look at tumblr, as I remained into Undertale. V and I lost contact after school started back up. I never blamed her for it. In fact, I preferred it that way. She didn’t deserve to have such a burden placed on her, and I still... feel guilty for leaning on her so much.

But I’m very thankful. I hope she’s out there living a good life, wherever she is.

And this! Is where we finally get to the not depressing parts! And only... what, 29 paragraphs in? Sheesh... I know I wanted to really illustrate just how shit things were to demonstrate just how much UT did for me, but this is taking it a bit far, isn’t it? Ah well... already made it this far. In for a penny, in for a pound. If you’ve made it this far, congratulations! I’m sorry. Truly. And I love you so very dearly.

Time went by and I kept doing my thing. Playing Overwatch(a practically self-destructive behavior deserving a therapy, frankly), talking to the few friends I had that I kept at an arm’s length, that sort of stuff. “Phil” and I no longer talked, thank goodness. Obviously I was depressed as all hell, not bothering to shower, eat, clean up, or do laundry for days on end. I spent more time asleep than I did awake, on most days. Did I say this was where the not depressing part was? I may have lied a little.

Blah blah “more months go by”, you know the drill. Until... I believe, November of 2016. After cementing my love of Flowey ever deeper, I’d started to follow more blogs putting out content for him on tumblr. In particular, the most important ones being I’lltrytobegood, Flowey-Answers, and later happyflowey and Corruptedflora.

It all started with a stream. I joined an art stream of LLA(Lovelyladyartist) on picarto as he worked on ITTBG. I kept quiet for the first few streams I joined, being too anxious to really out myself in any capacity. But little by little, I was coerced out of my shell. Particularly by one SilverKhaos, who I think at the time went by SilverSlayer or something. Anyway, he got me talking. And through that, I started making friends, bit by bit.

Also through the stream, I was introduced to CC(CuteCatDoodles) of Flowey-Answers. I obsessively read through the entire blog in a single sitting, just... having such a good time with it. And... strangely enough, it... got me feeling oddly better. Like I’d finally started to breath after not being able to for what felt like such a long time. If just a little. The next day, I got out of bed early, cleaned up, took out some garbage, and made breakfast. Just a simple plate of scrambled eggs. A simple, easy morning for most any average person. But for me? It was one of the most special mornings I’ve ever had.

Likewise, I did the same with Ding’s happyflowey, of reading through all of it in a single night. My head hurt like a motherfucker, but I tell you, it was worth it. The effect perhaps not as profound, but still very meaningful to me, as well as sowing the seeds of yet more relationships to form. If far off in the future, as far as this timeline is concerned. I still adore all of those dumb, charming little flowers so much. Mania would come to inspire my first ever OC, in fact. Thinking about that blog makes me miss when the UT fandom was more active here, even though I never participated in the fandom at large. But I’m grateful for the memories and incredible amounts of enjoyment getting to read it all brought me. I have way too many cropped images of Hysteria.

I wasn’t immediately better, but it was all the start of something new. I kept up with the streams, also joining in for CC’s. For hours upon hours a day, I’d just hop into them and spend the day talking away. I had something to really look forward upon waking up, starting to adjust my schedule so that I at least didn’t miss TOO much. I was able to really make friends, it felt like. Even though I wasn’t and still am not the most socially adept.

And as luck would have it, because picarto chat was and probably still is pretty unstable to this day, it just happened to go down and that led to... the creation of the discord server! It started off small, but steadily got more and more joiners from the growing population of the streams. LovelyLadyArtist, CuteCatDoodles, BrySkye, Flowers-Without-Pots, SilverSlayer, KRS, Donut, Mr.Quarter, Dragoler, Stilla, Chara, RotmModdy, Rowdy, Dunal, and probably at least a few others I’m forgetting... all names I encountered there and most of which I still see daily.

Through that server, we started keeping up even when there wasn’t any stream going on. Just goofing off and having a good ‘ol time. Already I was... well, doing a helluva lot better than I had before. All because of the gathering of a small community surrounding this indie gem. And even further centered in a niche specifically about Flowey! Who, and I’d forgotten to mention this before, I’d found a surprising amount to relate in. He’d become a big, BIG hyperfocus. Which is why I’d met everyone at all. Truly, it’s crazy to think how possible it is for me to have never come down this path.

From there on, I continued to meet new people, established new relationships. I even got invited to an RP server, creatively named “Flower RP” :p. At first I was hesitant, perhaps not even initially 100% interested. But as people really got into it, I felt an incredibly strong Fear of Missing Out. Leading to the creation of a character still near and dear to my heart.... Zorch. The result of contributions from many friends, from design ideas, to character concepts, and even his name(thanks for that, Rowdy). And... I began to write. It wasn’t great at first. very short form, and I didn’t know how to approach the roleplaying mindset, or even how to properly characterize him.

But over time... I got better. I became more confident. I really got into the nitty-gritty of character writing and discussion. I joined in on hours long discussions about the characters, lore, and narrative of Undertale. I’d wake up just to be there as soon as chat began to move, all the way to the point where everyone was finally asleep. I started to be able to help people again. For months, participating in this RP, in this chat, in this community was what I lived for. The joy that I felt in being among friends all working towards and talking about a common goal and interest is, well, honestly still somewhat unrivaled.

Paci, Pots, Neue, Castor, Silver, Nightmare, Rowdy. Me. All of us joined together in mutual love for a game, spurred on to feverishly create our own content about it. I kept up for months on end, living by the mostly same routine for probably the longest I’ve ever stuck to anything. Eventually... things happened and the server’s gone quiet. We had problems with management, people feeling excluded, targeted, etc etc. It was a very... consequence heavy RP, most of us were almost complete newbies to the roleplaying game, and many came to care rather deeply about the ongoings of it. Perhaps too much. But, well... I’m not sure it could have been prevented.

Sometimes, I still wish I could go back to that point of my life. I know someone else who does too. Even more than me. But I know not to try and emulate the past, as alluring as it may seem. So I push forward. Leading to yet another server with its own events. Clement, myself, Rowdy, Zielo, Neue, Moddy, Vee, Mini, Nappy, Tia, Silver. Some familiar names, some new. All still with the foundation of Undertale, but it quickly became a thing for us to just... chill and talk about anything. There was real love in that place. It was at this time that I even started going to therapy! After some struggling with the family. It helped a lot.

In time, that server, too, went under. For reasons that have long since been buried and forgiven. It no longer exists, after being deleted entirely, but I’ll always remember it. And we did eventually all(mostly) gather back together someplace new, which is still being talked in. Even gaining some new additions recently! If any of you guys are catching this one, I love you!

And we come to the final and most recent group. One I wasn’t actually a founding member of, instead being a late joiner. Comparatively smaller than all the ones before, but filled with just as much love. Pip, Ding, Kink, and Cola. Remember when I mentioned happyflowey sowing seeds, and then didn’t even expound in further detail about corruptedflora? Well congratulations, you’ve reached the payoff.

It all started after I began interacting with the mun of CF, Kinko, and became mutuals with them. We usually just spam reblogged from each other on occasion for a while. That is, until I got messaged, then sent a friend request through Discord. Which, even still, didn’t immediately go anywhere. But eventually... some things led to another, and we joined up in a particular server. Not one I’ll be naming, but times were... turbulent in there. It went under and we lost contact a bit after that.

That is, until completely out of the blue, I just get invited to a server with them and some pals to just join in on Roblox shenanigans. Imagine me, sweating and anxious as hell after getting asked to join a server with two people behind blogs I adore, considering Ding was there too. Cardiac arrest, I tell you. And obviously more than just them too! But the night turned out to be so fun that I forgot I’d ever been so anxious in the first place.

From there on... the rest was history. There’s been many, MANY ups and downs, but I’ve found yet more people I love very, very dearly. And they’ve gotten me to open up about the way I feel the most. In the past years, I could never tell someone I loved them, no matter how much I really wanted to. The words just couldn’t come out, but they... they brought that out in me. And now I can say it whenever I want! Like now! I love you guys!!! So much!!!! And not just you all, but everyone else too!!! And much love to Kink especially for being a driving force behind me making this, as well as just being a goddamn star.

So... as a final ovation... LLA, CC, Bry, Drago/Paci, Pots, Silver, Donut, Quarter, Stilla, Chara, Moddy, Rowdy, Neue, Castor/Skater, Tia/Nightmare, Clement, Zielo, Vee, Nappy, Ding, Pip, Cola, and Kink. As well as some stragglers like Log, Ingrid, and Jai. I’m probably still forgetting some... but thank you all for being my friends. It’s been a long, long five years. And yet, many of you are still in my life. In at least some form. There aren’t words enough to express my gratitude towards every single one of you for the most incredible years of my life and pulling me from what can be called nothing less than the fucking abyss. You all made and continue to make life worth living.

And thank you, Undertale. The game behind all of these relationships. The game that inspired such strong feelings in me when nothing else could. That made me into an artist and writer. The reason I’m still alive. The game that changed my fucking life and will continue to affect me, I believe, for the duration of it. I really cannot overstate just how important you were and still are. There’ll never be anything else like you.

#this is probably littered with mistakes and things that didn't need to be there #Like the sheer amount of context provided for how poorly I was doing #But too late to change things now!#My brain hurts too much to bother proofreading #So take this raw and unfiltered thing and do what you will with it #Or don't #It's a rough read #Don't push yourself through it if you can't #Or simply don't want to #long post

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the-cookie-of-doom · 4 years

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Next I want to question would probably be the Angsty Band AU, because who doesn’t love an angsty band au. Who’s in the band? Playing what? Is this a non-supernatural au?

This is a totally human AU, where Mitch went to college and got a degree in music production, and after graduation Stiles convinced Mitch to start a band with him. I think they started out as just a typical garage band making videos for YouTube, until they got some songs written and started auditioning new members.

The band name is Sutures, because of course it is ; ) Stiles suggested it and Mitch thought it was cool so he agree, but a split second he Realized, but it was too late to take it all back because the rest of the band already agreed. Stiles is a smug little shit about it lol

Stiles is the singer and Mitch is the bassist/backup vocals. He’s also written a lot/most of the songs, and he’s left handed. Katrina later comes in on the middle of a tour to play keys for them when their keyboardist breaks their hand; her and Mitch dated in college and they haven’t spoken in a while, but he didn’t have anyone else to call, and she was happy to come along. She later (unknowingly) causes Angst and Discontent between Mitch and Stiles, and it’s about 95% Mitch’s fault. (That may actually be from the other angsty band AU....)

Also Stiles, being like 19/20 years old and high strung, suffering from the stress and pressure of his first tour, which is Really Big because they’ve garnered a large fanbase, fully succumbs to the sex drugs and rock and roll lifestyle. Mitch is pissed, because his one condition for doing this with Stiles, fully funding the band and making it actually happen, was that Stiles wouldn’t get into that shit.

I’m not sure who all would be included from TW, I never decided on who would be in the band or anything. But Lydia is their PR manager/agent? She’s a terrifying force to be reckoned with, for sure lol

heeere is a scene that’s lurking around tumblr, but I didn’t want to go find it xD

“Jesus fucking Christ, Stiles.” Mitch grabbed his brother by the wrist and hauled him into an equipment closet. He backed Stiles against a high stack of speakers, cutting him off from escape. “What did you take? What did you fucking take?”

Stiles refused to answer, shaking his head with a clenched jaw. There was a tremble in his limbs that he tried to hide. When Mitch grabbed him by the jaw and forcefully tilted his head into the light, his pupils didn’t contract, blown wide till the brown was only a thin ring around the black. Both were symptoms of stimulants.

Mitch shoved away from Stiles in disgust. Outside were thousands of fans waiting for them, and Stiles was busy getting high.

“This was your dream,” Mitch hissed. He raked a hand through his hair, didn’t know what to do. Angry, he turned back to Stiles and shoved him back into the speakers. “Your dream, not mine! And you’re just throwing it away. But you’re not the only one that’ll be affected, you selfish brat.”

“Mitch I’m sorry—I didn’t—it’s not like—“

“Shut the fuck up.” Mitch took out his phone to call Lydia, barking at her to come meet them. She arrived promptly, coming into the room with stern features and cold eyes, clearly unimpressed. “He’s strung out,” Mitch told her, gesturing to Stiles who couldn’t stop scratching himself, like he was jonesing for another fix. Like snorting all he had wasn’t enough. Mitch was seething, couldn’t stand to look at him. Because just like always, now Mitch had to go clean up his mess. “Don’t let him anywhere near the stage.”

“Who will sing.”

“I wrote the damn songs, I’ll do it.” Lydia looked at him flatly, clearly doubting him. Mitch didn’t care.

“You hate singing.”

“Yeah, I hate a lot of things.” Stiles flinched at the venom in his brother’s voice, knowing he was at the top of that list. It made him want to cry but he didn’t want to give Mitch the satisfaction. Not that he would care, as angry as he was. “Don’t let him out of your sight.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles whispered, his eyes stinging.

“No you’re not. Fuck. Of all times to pull this shit, Stiles. I thought you were smarter than this.”

Stiles reeled back like he’d been slapped. But that was all the time Mitch was going to give him. He left the room, running out onto stage to tell their band mates Stiles wouldn’t be able to play, and apologizing to the fans while explaining the situation as best he could without telling them Stiles was getting fucked up in a back room.

After this, Mitch just about leaves the band. Lydia has to track him down and drag him back, because there’s no way they can just leaves the fans hanging like this, they still have to finish the tour.

Stiles is kicked off the tour though, and Mitch has to take over vocals. Surprisingly, the fans love him, even more than Stiles. Tabloids are reporting that their success is at an all time high now that their mysterious, reclusive bassist is stepping into the spotlight.

Seeing how much everyone loves Mitch, how much better their doing without him, sends Stiles into an awful depression spiral as he realizes they don’t need him.

God and there is so much more to this AU that I can’t remember. I need to find a way to download my Tumblr chat because I know it’s in there, but from like. Last February.

I remember that Mitch completely cuts off contact with Stiles after catching him getting high on the tour, and doesn’t seek him out even when it ends. when he finally tries, he can’t find Stiles, and has to ask Lydia if she knows where he is.

Stiles did end up going to rehab. He didn’t tell Mitch because he didn’t want Mitch thinking he was the only reason Stiles was doing it; he did it for himself. He knew he was messed up and needed to get help. And Mitch is proud of him for it, apologizes for the way things happened, etc.

After, the bands gets all back together. And later Stiles finds Mitch acting kind of secretive, clearly working on a new project. He keeps pestering but Mitch refuses to tell him what it is, doesn’t want to show him until it’s done.

When it is, the group all meets up at the studio (maybe he and Stiles have an apartment or something, and they converted one of the rooms to a recording studio? Maybe not, unimportant.) And Mitch plays the new song he’s been working on, which I’ve low key always imaged as Under Your Scars by Godsmack. It’s an emotional moment, but ends on a bitter sweet note because no one in the band knows just who Mitch wrote it for. They can’t. So the entire time Stiles is just standing there trying not to cry and give anything away.

Also if you want to know what I imagine Mitch sounding like, I think something like Adelitas Way, with a little bit of Ice Nine Kills, specifically the deeper parts of Stabbing In The Dark. I actually started keeping a list of songs that sounded like Mitch to me, but idk where it is rn. I keep meaning to make a playlist for it xD

I was actually going to do some vocal editing on a couple different songs to make an “album” of how I imagined Mitch sounding, but my software wasn’t cooperating with me >_> But like, I did a whole Thing, taking clips from American Assassin and doing some vocal analysis to separate out the different tones in Dylan’s voice, and then changing the vocals of the songs to match, because I am Extra. Except it was fucking with the instrumental and I gave up lol, but I would love to finish that project some day.

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never-not-ever · 4 years

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Can you share your story with us? You can do it ❤️

Thank you! It wasn’t that bad… The 8th graders this morning were paying attention which was nice but no one asked questions in the end so it was like a little awkward lol. But after that at the high school I was a part of 5 periods where the kids would shuffle in and me and my co peer mentors would sit at the front like a panel. Since there was a bunch of us we didn’t all have to present each time but I ended up doing mine twice!

Also just to preface this, my story is not the full story. The first draft I sent to the coordinator was like 10x long and over time we shortened it and tried to not make it as descriptive/triggering… but here ya go!

“Freshmen year of high school, I was sitting in class joking with my best friend about how it was going to be my last day in school. I had an annual physical with my doctor later that afternoon. This was my first doctors appointment since I started self harming. Back then I thought that the second she saw my arm I was going to get taken away by two men in white coats. I didn’t go to a psych ward that day. Instead, she asked me if I was okay and I replied “I’m fine, it was a stupid thing I did, I promise I won’t do it again”. She handed me a little white card with the name and phone number of a therapist. I often wonder what would have happened if I actually called that therapist and got help back in high school. Would the self harm have stopped? Would the suicide attempts have been prevented? Would I have graduated from college by now? Who would I be if I got help back then?

I think I had a pretty normal childhood. I didn’t have a mom and a dad but I had my Nana and my Aunt. My Nana got custody of me when I was 2 and she and my Aunt raised me my whole life. My Aunt was like my mother and everywhere we went people thought I was her daughter. I have no memory of my father. He was an alcoholic and left before my mother lost custody of me. My mother has her own problems with mental health as well as a drug addiction. We tried to have a relationship but as I grew up I saw who she really was. By the time I turned 15 I wanted nothing to do with her and I haven’t spoken to her since.

Growing up I was really close with my Aunt, she was like a mother to me, a real one. My Aunt was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was in middle school and she was constantly in relapse and remission. For months it would disappear and then all of a sudden it would come back again. I went to a small middle school with probably about 15 kids in my class. I was the biggest person in my school. At the 8th grade dance all the other girls wore cute dresses and I wore pants and a nice shirt. That wasn’t my style but I was just way too self conscious to ever wear a dress. In high school I was once again the biggest person. I had a couple close friends but I hated being around people, always fearing that they were judging me for my size. I had a friend online who introduced me to self harm. He was always bullied so he starting hurting himself as a way to cope. You see I was never bullied. I was always overweight but no one ever called me names or made fun of me, at least to my face. I was the bully. To myself. I hated the way I looked, the things I said, the way I interacted with other people. I hated everything about myself. I always scolded myself for saying or doing the wrong thing. I started self harming in my freshmen year. Back then I didn’t see a future for myself. I was so depressed that I wasn’t thinking about the consequences I’d later face because of my self harm. My depression, along with my extreme self hatred, turned my self harm into a way to punish myself.

After high school my depression and self harm got worse and I started feeling suicidal. My Aunts cancer was back and had traveled throughout her body. She passed away in April of 2012. She died at home and I watched her take her last breath. Right after she passed I ran up to my room and tore apart the suicide notes and threw away all my self harm supplies all while telling myself “I have to be there for my Nana, I can’t leave her too”. My Aunt’s death made me feel selfish for feeling depressed and suicidal. It made me think of all the people who have it worse and here I was so depressed and wanting to end my life? It didn’t make sense. But I wasn’t choosing to feel this way and I had every right to feel the way I did. It took me a while to realize that but I know now after feeling such joy and happiness I wouldn’t chose sadness and depression, no one would. For a while after my Aunt passed away I thought maybe she was watching over me and so every time I had that urge to hurt myself it was easily pushed away. The day my Aunt died it was like I put this shield up and I automatically started comforting everyone around me so I wasn’t actually grasping the fact that she was gone. Later on that fall I tried to go back to school but my depression got worse and the reality of my Aunt’s death finally came to the surface and so I ended up dropping out. The self harm started up again and it was now a full blown addiction.

Almost a year after my Aunts death I saw my first therapist and later that summer my first psychiatrist. I spent a year in therapy while working part time. I tried once again to go back to school but for the third time I dropped out. I was severely depressed, self harming and binge drinking alone in my room. I was soon admitted to a psych ward at McLean Hospital. I was there for a week and on the day I discharged I went home and attempted to end my life. The memories of that day will haunt me forever. Back then I didn’t think about how my death would effect the ones around me. When I hear suicide survivors talk about their lost loved ones it hurts to think I could have put my friends and family through that.

For years after that I started this cycle where I would feel fine, happy even, for months at a time. But then out of nowhere I’d slowly start to feel depressed again and the self harm would start up. Depression looks different for everyone but for me it’s not wanting to get out of bed. It’s pushing away friends and family, always feeling like a burden. It’s staying up until 4 am and not waking up until the late afternoon. It’s binge eating and gaining weight and climbing up past 300lbs. It’s hating everything about yourself and the person you’ve become.

I’ve had to go back to the hospital a couple times since my suicide attempt. There were no scary men in white coats like I had thought. Going to the hospital is needed if you’re in danger of hurting yourself. It’s a place to go if you can’t keep yourself safe. A couple years ago I was feeling suicidal and I vaguely talked about it on Tumblr and thankfully someone called the police. Back then I was so angry at that person but looking back they probably saved my life. During one of my hospitalizations I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder which was something I had never heard of before. BPD is a mental illness that consists of intense mood swings, self harm, suicidal thinking, bad body image and impulsive behaviors.

Finally I reached a point where I wasn’t constantly thinking about ending my life. I started Dialectical Behavior Therapy, the most successful therapy for helping people like me. This type of therapy can be done outside of the hospital so it allowed me to go back to work and school. It teaches you skills to help manage your emotions, maintain healthy relationships and handle stressful situations. I’ve done many different types of DBT therapy, residential, partial programs, groups and individual therapy. But I’ve finally gotten to a place in my recovery where all I need now is just therapy. It’s become a weekly place to check in and talk about any red flags before they become another spiral.

McLean hospital and DBT have literally saved my life. I mean, I saved my life but DBT taught me the skills to not destroy my relationships and myself. Today I’m in a healthy, stable relationship with my girlfriend and we’ve been together for 3 years. We just moved in together last summer and adopted two little black kittens. Last fall I passed my first classes since 2015 and I know now that I want to work in the mental health field some day. I’ve lost a lot of weight and I’m starting to feel more comfortable in this new body scars and all. I work full time as a florist manager and I’m now part of this amazing peer mentor organization. I might not be here today if someone didn’t call the police back then. I wasn’t able to reach out for help so I’m grateful that someone else was able to do it for me. It sounds cliche but it does get better and if you had told me that back then, I would have laughed in your face. After 12 years I still have urges to hurt myself and sometimes I hear a song that reminds me of the day I tried to end my life and all I want to do is sleep to escape those feelings. But it passes. The urges and the sadness and the hopelessness. It all passes. I think of my cats and how amazing it is to feel the sun on my arms. I think of things that help me chose recovery instead of resorting back to old behaviors and that’s how I know things are different now. Thank you.”

#personal #my story #mental health awareness #borderline personality disorder #depression #self harm #recovery

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everythingoesnk · 5 years

Text

Born To Be

summary; after one call you have the chance to meet your past and embrace him it.

word count; 2 905

disclaimers; none but that’s my gif up there, how cool’s that !!

warnings; I’M SO BAD AT ENDINGS IT’S EMBARRASSING

********

Around ten that night, the unexpected happened.

Your best friend, Jaime, found it tough to read your expressionless face.

Why it transformed into a pale mask was a mystery, since she couldn’t get to hear what the other person was saying.

You just couldn’t believe that this was happening. It couldn’t be real. Your hand was shaking, and a sickening pain in your chest interfered with your gasp for air.

Jaime shook your shoulder to bring you back to the moment.

“Are you still there?” the caller asked.

Every nerve in your body quivered at her voice.

Jaime was chewing on various cuticles as she tried to decipher the look in your eyes.

“I am,” you said in a weak voice, and cringed at your inability to tame your emotions.

Maureen drew in a deep breath.

This was hard for her as well, but she knew you were the only person who could fix things, who could fix him.

“I’m calling on Richard’s behalf, I guess” she sighed, not fully conscious yet that she finally built up the courage to do it.

The jiggling of your leg going up and down stopped.

Three things caught your attention: if Ringo had something to tell you, why was his wife the one to pick up the phone? Also, it was the first time you heard her calling him by his name, by Richard, which really preoccupied you for some reason. And the last and most disturbing one: why was she contacting you? Why now?

You two never exchanged a word before.

“Did something happen?” you asked, sceptical if you wanted to know.

You broke up with Ringo a week before he joined The Beatles, and to this day, many and many years later, you’ve barely seen or talked to him.

August 1962. He was 22 years old, you 19.

The reason why you broke up with him was simple and understandable: after an argument about how he wouldn’t spend any time with you, about how he’d always put Rory Storm and the Hurricanes first, making you feel like an accessory rather than a girlfriend, you didn’t stutter to give him an ultimatum.

It comes without saying he didn’t pass.

Then Maureen happened.

Convinced it was for the best, you split up still being recklessly in love with him: it broke your heart when the news reached your ears, you couldn’t deny it.

Thirteen years later, three children under Ringo’s wing -a five-year-old among them-, The Beatles no longer in the game, it was a whole different scenario.

Maureen held the phone tight.

“I just came home from signing the divorce papers”

“Oh no,” you gasped, and covered your mouth in utter shock.

Jaime narrowed her eyes and asked what was going on. You brushed her off.

“I assume you know nothing” Maureen speculated, because maybe you did.

You used to be very close to Paul after you met him backstage after one of The Quarrymen performances –you knew him, John and George long before Ringo did-, but she wasn’t sure if you kept in contact with each other nowadays.

The relationship wasn’t as tight as it once was, but you did. You phoned him very occasionally, and he sent letters or telegrams every three months to catch up, Ringo never brought up into the conversation.

So no, you didn’t know anything.

Maureen began to explain what caused the marriage to end in such bad terms: her and George having an affair, Pattie finding out and snitching to Ringo the very same day, she managing to persuade him to stay together, and how Ringo couldn’t cope anymore with the thought of his best friend and wife secretly fucking behind his back.

According to Maureen, he started to cheat constantly and become violent, drowning himself into a spiral of darkness and self-destruction, which mainly included critical alcoholism.

Your jaw clenched, and you spoke through gritted teeth.

“This is why you’re calling me for?”

She frowned and picked her words cautiously.

“No” she stopped talking to gather her thoughts. “I just wanted to tell you he needs help”

You shrugged dramatically even though she wasn’t there to see it.

Maureen sighed and closed her eyes, counting to ten silently to keep the tears at bay.

“I fucked up tremendously. I’d offer help myself, but I already did and he ended up like this anyway. You’re the only one he’ll listen to”

“What do you mean by ‘this’?”

Maureen didn’t speak, a knot in her throat preventing her from doing so.

“You expect me to fix things for you to have him back or what? Maureen, this is a waste of time, there’s nothing I can do. You said it yourself: you fucked things up. Don’t go asking people—“ you began, angry that she had to come to you to deal with her problems.

“You don’t understand”

“We haven’t talked in thirteen years! Do you really believe he’s going to—“

“He could be gone any second! He’s probably consumed three bottles already since we started talking. I’d die and revive as many times as needed to be able to go back in time and do things differently, but it’s too late, it’s useless trying to have him back. He…”

Maureen’s voice broke.

“He’s been in love with you the whole time”

You went white.

Your brain shutting down and the adrenaline pumping hysterically through your blood sent you to the very edge of nearly passing out.

“(Y/N), are you okay? Answer me” Jaime insisted, moving to a fetal position right in front of you.

“What… what do you mean?” you asked Maureen, ignoring Jaime.

“I’m a lot of things, but blind’s not of one of them. We went through a lot of things, you know? I never had the opportunity to explain myself, but I cheated because I hit rock bottom. I was tired of Rich not being over you. I gave him time, years that I won’t have back. All of them wasted waiting for something that didn’t come”

Now she called him Rich. Huh.

She was so close to crying, but you were sure she wouldn’t allow herself to. At least not until she hung up.

Maureen then dictated an address.

“Please, (Y/N)” she begged in a very emotional voice. “If he ever meant anything to you, go see him”

House keys tucked in your handbag next to your wallet, a pair of dirty sunglasses, one bottle of hand lotion, a pepper spray and kleenexes, you were confident you weren’t forgetting anything.

After hopping into the car, you pulled out on to the road.

Maureen called on Monday, but due to your work duties, you hadn’t been able to visit Ringo until now.

It was Thursday and you were on your way.

You didn’t tell anyone you were going, not even Maureen. And especially not Ringo.

It took a forty-minute drive to get there.

Climbing out of the car, you felt your legs wobbly. Was it a good idea? You didn’t know, but it wasn’t the right moment to turn around and leave. You had to keep it together.

For a moment, it all seemed unreal. You about to see him again, about to ring the doorbell.

Surprisingly, you didn’t have to.

Ringo swang the door open, carrying in the other hand a heavy garbage bag, which by the recognizable sound that the items inside made by bumping into each other, you knew it contained glass. Probably dozens of bottles of every type of beer and wine imaginable.

A big and remarkable beard was what pretty much stuck out first. The next thing you noticed was that his hair looked nasty: it didn’t reach his shoulders only for a tiny bit, and even though it was obvious he hadn’t brushed it in a while, it wasn’t missing the softness effect. Curls fell down his forehead. Under other circumstances that would’ve been nothing but cute.

Haggard was the only word you could use to describe him.

The cigarette between his teeth fell to the ground.

You looked at it and glanced up at him. His eyes’d grown wide, and he was immobile.

“Hi” you rasped, showing a shy smile.

What a nervous and chaotic mess you were inside.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” his voice sounded incredulous, like if he were still digesting that you were there, not quite believing it.

“I…”

Indeed, it was dumb to think for an excuse you didn’t have. You just shook your head and fastened your eyes on the garbage bag.

“You’ve been busy?”

His cheeks turned crimson violently, and he shoved it away with a kick.

“Can I… hug you?” was all he asked, eyes never leaving yours, scared that if he might look away you’d vanish.

He wasn’t okay, you could just tell. It was heartbreaking.

As soon as he put his arms around you and squeezed, you were regretting your decision. To be more precise, you were regretting not having prepared yourself enough emotionally.

Ringo inclined his head downwards and pressed his nose against your shoulder, inhaling your scent.

“You’re here” he uttered.

You let him take his time, getting a glimmer of empathy.

As Ringo pulled back, you noticed that his hands were twitching. Symptoms, you guessed. Your heart skipped a beat.

“I’ll prepare you a cuppa” he exclaimed to break the tension, and swept into the kitchen after insisting that you got comfortable.

The place was a mess. Overflowed ashtrays everywhere, floor littered with crumpled papers and dirt all over. A lot of disorganization in general.

By the look of it, if his house were the mirror to his soul and health, he was at a very depressing point.

“Sorry about the disorder” he came back and handed you the cup. “I haven’t had time to hire someone or clean meself”

“It’s alright” you nodded, to make him feel better.

You walked over to a bookshelf, examining the silver-framed photographs of his children.

All of them were a huge accurate half and half mix of their parents, so you couldn’t say if they looked more like him or more like their mum.

Blowing into the cup, you turned to the right and saw Ringo sit back upon the sofa with his foot over the thigh of the other leg.

He lit another cigarette and offered you to grab one.

“I quit”

“I should too” he said, taking a very much long desired drag.

You refused to speak first.

Ringo sighed at your sight. You looked breathtaking standing there in those jeans and basic tee in the middle of his living room.

“So, what do I owe this honour” the corner of your mouth quirked up and you looked down to your feet timidly, “of you visiting the grumpy and drunk stupid Starkey this fine morning?”

The smile evaporated in a split second, and you worryingly fixed your gaze on him.

He smirked, but it soon melted away as well.

That sent cold goosebumps up and down your spine.

“C’mon. Thirteen years, only knowing about you because of Paul’s ‘she’s good, really’, and you magically appear on my doorstep the same week Mo and I divorce?”

You took in a keen breath.

Ringo stared at you, wanting to read you, but his brain wasn’t functioning very well.

He leaned in to cast the stub of the cigarette into the ashtray, saying nothing.

You slid on an armchair opposite him.

When you flashed your eyes at him, still easily flustered by his comment, you saw him gazing out the window. He looked beated down, unhappy.

“Richie”

He abruptly stood up and paced furiously, startling you.

“I’m so lost. You… I don’t know what the next step should be”

“Please, calm down. I’m here to help you”

“Help me?” he turned around and eyed you, every inch of your face. “I don’t need help. I need answers”

“What answers? You mean why Maureen and George…” you didn’t want to finish that.

“Why didn’t you reach out to me in all these years?” he stared at you and you became so small. “I thought we were friends, (Y/N). I know I took you for granted, but I’d have never imagined I wouldn’t hear from you in so long”

The pain in his voice made your eyes go shiny. You wouldn’t cry. No.

“Well, I… the last encounter we had… you didn’t say very nice things to me. I thought you didn’t want to hear from me again”

“I was mad because I didn’t want to end things. I don’t… I don’t remember what I said, but if I said something that hurt you, I’m genuinely sorry. I kept asking Paul for your number and your address, and he wouldn’t give it to me”

“I told him not to. I assumed you just wanted to argue, imagined you weren’t happy about me talking to him. You used to be very a jealous guy back then, I didn’t want to deal with it” you softly theorized, lowering your head.

Saying it out loud sounded so dumb.

Ringo drew nearer the big window and leaned against the wall, looking down the street.

“I missed you,” he mumbled, glad he wasn’t facing you so you wouldn’t see him chewing his lip out of anxiousness.

“I missed you too”

Off in the distance, you heard the tintinnabulation noise of the nearby church bells announcing noon.

You rose to your feet and stood behind him. Just when you were about to speak, he did it first.

“Are you staying for lunch?”

“If you want me to”

He looked at you over his shoulder. You inched forward and stopped in front of him.

“Maureen told me…”

You looked up subtly at him but glanced down again when you met that pair of intimidating ocean eyes. Ringo contemplated your features, and concluded that you were only getting prettier as time passed, the hint of a doubt never on his mind.

He, on the other very extreme of the scale, looked homeless.

Reaching out for your hand, he clasped it tightly.

Your heart rate went wild.

“Maureen told me you still loved me,” you said, watching your hands held together. “How crazy”

You dismissed it, because it couldn’t be true.

“Crazy?” he repeated.

“Huh?” you raised your head up.

He jerked his in the window’s direction again and let your hand go.

Would it be that crazy?

“Ringo… do you?”

He rolled his shoulders.

“Hey”

Slowly, he turned to you.

“I’m back now. I’ll help you recover, okay?”

Ringo’s lips were in a thin line. He tightened his jaw and crossed legs and arms, adopting a pose to feel more secure.

“Tell me about your life, how’re you doing?” he asked, genuinely interested.

“Work’s treating me nice, I’m healthy. I cannot complain”

His eyes dropped to your hand. No engagement ring in sight.

You blushed after following where his eyes were standing.

“Are you kidding me?”

“What?” you laughed.

“You’re not taken?”

“I could have a boyfriend”

Ringo raised an eyebrow.

“I do not” you answered, biting your lower lip to suppress a smirk.

“How many have you rejected?”

You giggled, and his face lit up, a serene feeling dawning on his chest. It’d been too long since he heard you laugh.

“I’m hungry. Aren’t you?” you hinted after a pause, redirecting the conversation somewhere else.

Ringo didn’t move or speak.

You didn’t have time to think about what could possibly be crossing his mind, but half a second later, he rushed to kiss you, taking you by surprise.

Even so, your mouth was quick to respond, parting lips to let him in. Ringo moved his hand to the back of your neck, and the other trailed down to rest on your waist.

Senses gone, you weren’t sure if this was right or wrong in any level.

He tasted like Bourbon, and touched you so well in all the right places that you agreed you’d worry later.

One lock of your hair got in the way, and Ringo, without undoing the connection of your lips, tucked it back in. You grunted in his mouth at the tender touch, and he pulled you closer passionately, intensifying the kiss.

A wave of stimulation hit you hard, and you attached your hip as much as you physically could to his body, at the same time that you sucked on his lip.

Meanwhile, he deepened his grasp, hands in fists below your back, wrinkling and tugging on your shirt.

Just as you thought it was over, Ringo pinned you against the wall, working with great mastery his luscious puffy lips on yours.

Arms around his neck, you two began to progressively slow down after a gratifying make out session.

The instant his lips were no longer touching yours, you felt angry and pointless. Was there anything in life you wanted to do that didn’t concern kissing him? No bother answering.

“Look what you did to me” he breathed.

Silence settled for a short period of time.

“Did Maureen tell the truth?”

Ringo furrowed an eyebrow.

“What’re you saying?”

“Did she lie when she said you love me?” you implored.

“No”

You nodded, heart full, and cupped his face with your hands.

“I’m so sorry to tell you this, but you’ll have to put up with me for a long time. I ain’t going nowhere”

“You’ll never leave me again?”

“I’d be insane”

#ringo starr #richard starkey #ringo starr x reader #ringo starr fanfic #ringo starr fanfiction #ringo starr imagine #paul mccartney #john lennon #george harrison #the beatles #born to be #tayloredstarr

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