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arcanarubinaito · 5 months

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What are your thoughts on how an extroverted, confident, energetic MC would be with Muriel as an LI? (🪶)

Thank you for the ask, Feather Anon! I’ve been itching to do some creative writing outside of my story, so I hope you don’t mind that I’m writing this more like a short story/narrative style post.

Summary:

You command the room when you walk in, and everyone takes notice. He loves that about you; being riddled with constant social anxiety himself, it’s nothing short of a relief for Muriel to see that you don’t have to deal with it yourself. (Besides, it doesn’t hurt that it takes the attention off of him.)

He’s just worried that you’ll feel isolated and alone if you move in with him.

It’s exactly a month after the defeat of Lucio and The Devil, and everyone had gathered to celebrate together in the Rowdy Raven. He tries to stick to a corner in the back, but he is far too large and conspicuous to avoid the attention for long. Some people stare, others are braver and approach him to exchange a few words and express thanks. Muriel wants nothing more than to melt into a puddle. He appreciates not being looked at like he was still the Scourge, thankful that people weren’t afraid of him anymore. But the only reason he was here was to see you. You had been busy helping with repairs in the city while Muriel helped those still lingering in the camp outside his home, and hadn’t had much time to really talk or interact for the past week.

“You all didn’t start without me now, did you?” Your voice rings out as you stride in, and Muriel slumps back against the wall with relief. He watches some of the crowd clamor to get your attention as Julian passes you a beer stein, giving him room to breathe.

You look a little tired, he notices, but your face is practically glowing. Your eyes meet across the room and you light up even further, drawing a slight smile from Muriel’s otherwise stoic expression. He loves your smile. Immediately you chug your drink and begin pushing through the crowd, exchanging short words with a few other people before you finally reach him. He doesn’t even have the time to say ‘hello’ before you throw your arms around him in a tight hug that he quickly returns.

“God, I missed you so much.” You groan, tilting your head back to look up at him. Muriel lifts his hand, cradling your face gently in his large palm as he dips down to kiss your forehead—silently telling you he missed you just as much. “I didn’t have any time to visit this week and it was killing me, actually.” You stretch up on your toes and loop your arms around his neck, filling him in on all the little things he’d missed. Stuffy nobles complaining that they weren’t getting their homes repaired sooner, and Nadia putting them in their place. Helping Portia and the other kitchen staff with preparing food for all the displaced citizens. Julian and Asra, busy with healing and helping reunite separated families and friends.

He listens to you ramble on with a soft smile, and follows as you take his arm and lead him to the bar. “—but now I think I’ll have a lot of down time, which means I can spend more time with you.” Muriel’s smile widens a little more at that, and he can feel his face warm up when you shoot him a wink. Yeah, he knows what that means all too well. “Hey Lavinia, let’s get a round of black mead for everyone!” You call across the bar, knocking your hand against the wood loudly. “And put it on Jules’ tab!”

“Wait what—?”

A short laugh breaks past Muriel’s lips at Julian’s indignant squawk, and he catches a shit-eating grin plastered over your face as you settle onto one of the stools. Two mugs of the dark liquor slide across the bar towards you both, Muriel putting his hand out to gently stop them before they fall off and passing one to you. “What did he do to deserve that?” He asks, amused. You hide your smirk with your mug.

“Nothing.” You rest your chin in one hand. “I’ll pay it off myself, his reaction is just funny.”

“That’s a little mean.”

“It is a little mean, yeah.” You laugh, eyes glittering with mirth. The firelight reflects like spots of amber in your eyes, and he’s reminded of that first night. Your worried face and gentle hands cast in the soft glow of the fireplace, and the begrudging step he had taken to trust you just a little. The best decision he’s ever made, really. Muriel reaches forward to brush some stray hairs out of your eyes without thinking.

A few ‘awww’s scattered from the crowd made him flinch and quickly withdraw, his face hot with embarrassment. Muriel hides his burning face with a quick swig from the wooden mug in his hand and turns his back to the crowd quickly. He had been so swept up in the moment that he forgot you both weren’t alone, and many pairs of eyes were on you at any given moment.

Your hand touches the side of his face lightly, reassuring and gentle. Grounding him for a little longer and soothing that surge of anxiety and embarrassment. His eyes flicker in your direction again briefly before he roots his stare on the mug in his hands again. “You want to head back early?” You suggest softly. Muriel lowers his mug. He wants to say yes; he’s by far had his fill of socializing today and just wants to wind down somewhere quiet and familiar. But he hesitates. You only just got here, and he knows how much you enjoy these gatherings. You thrive off of social interactions, would it be selfish for him to ask you to leave so soon?

“We don’t have to.” Muriel finally says, begrudgingly, forcing himself to look back up at you. He can stick it out a little while longer for your sake, just as you’ve done for him before. It’s loud and crowded and his anxiety is already going haywire, and god his head is starting to hurt too. But he can suck it up.

“I really don’t mind going home if you need to.” You reply. He watches your eyes drift past him, your hand waving off someone behind him quickly before your gaze returns to meet his. “I know this isn’t exactly where you’re most comfortable.” That was an understatement if Muriel had ever heard one.

Wait. Go back. Did you say ‘home?’

Gently, you pull him away from the bar, guiding him through the swirling crowd towards the back door. He reaches out to push it open for you, his fingertips lingering on the wood for only a moment before you whisk him down the alleyway to a more secluded spot, away from prying eyes. His eyes widen a little, and he lifts his hand to curl it over the one you cup his cheek with. “You said ‘home.’” Muriel breathes out. Your face softens a little, a smile creeping up on your lips.

You’ve hidden yourselves among some crates stacked up between the buildings, a nearby street lamp casting your faces into wild shadows. “Yeah, I did.” You confirm, moving your hand so that your fingers are twined together now. You dip your head down, kissing the tops of his knuckles with a sweet brush of your lips that sends a jolt of electricity through Muriel’s body. “I’d like to move in with you—if you want, I mean.” You add on quickly.

Muriel’s heart hammers in his chest. “What about the shop?” He asks, his voice a little more breathless than he would’ve liked.

“The shop is a little bit crowded these days—” Right, Julian had moved in. Muriel tries (and fails) to resist the urge to make a face at the thought of the doctor living with Asra. “—and I’m not exactly selling anything right now either.” You continue, tilting your head to the side just a little. “And it’s so far from your place.”

“My place is also far from everything else.” He points out quietly. Muriel wants nothing more than for you to move in with him, to make that little hut feel more like a little home. But would it be too far from Vesuvia, and all your friends? Would you be happy, or would you start to feel isolated and alone?

“I know.” You guide him out of his thoughts with a soft voice and a gentle squeeze of his hand. “And I’m okay with that.” He searches your gaze, finding only love and warmth, and that gleam of pure conviction he knows so well. His shoulders relax just a little bit and his thumb rubs along the back of your hand idly while he listens. “It isn’t really all that long of a walk to get to the city. It just feels… It just feels too far from you.” You smile up at him and he practically melts, lips twitching up into a faint smile.

“I want you to be happy.” Muriel confesses softly. He brings his other hand up to envelope yours in his large and calloused palm.

“And I’m happy whenever I’m with you.” You stretch up on your toes, and he leans down just a little to meet you halfway, stealing a soft and sweet kiss—thankfully, without anyone around to see. Muriel sneaks a glance around just to double check before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in closer, one steady hand at your waist and the fingers of his other twined gently through your hair. He can feel your hands rest against his chest for a moment before you reach up to hold his face in your ever-gentle hands.

He pulls away just slightly, your warm breath mingling with his against the cool night air. “I love you.” Muriel murmurs, and the corners of his eyes crinkle with a smile. He moves his hand to brush an errant lock of hair out of your eyes, studying them. Muriel wasn’t one for eye contact, but it was so easy for him to get lost in your eyes. They always reflected the light so beautifully, and tonight was no exception; the light of the street lamp mingled with the moonlight, casting your eyes in a contrast of gold and silver.

“I love you too.” You murmur. Your thumb lightly brushes along his cheek and traces along his scar tenderly, sending a soft shiver down his spine. Muriel shifts, his lips meeting the spot just between your eyebrows before he pulls away, his hands resting on your waist. You tilt your head back a little to look up at him, letting your hands settle back on his shoulders before sliding them down his arms and resting them against his biceps, just above his elbows.

“… yeah. I think I’d like to go home now.” He murmurs, finally answering your question from before. Your smile widens a little and you take hold of his hand as you both finally pull away from where you were hidden and start to walk down the street.

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liimonadas · 19 days

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im actually obsessed with 2-4 phoenix he is tired of all this bullshit. i love how he does not say a word for like 5 minutes after edgeworth enters the room

#hes on no hours of sleep running on anxiety barely processing what just happened #i think hes allowed to lash out a little #im trying to get more comfortable posting doodles here because ive been doodling a lot to cope w the stress lol #phoenix wright #miles edgworth #franziska von karma #farewell my turnabout #ace attorney #fanart #art

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moxiepoxart · 5 months

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Rise! Mona Lisa

#she’s anxiety incarnate #my art #fanart #rottmnt #rottmnt mona lisa #mona lisa #tmnt mona lisa #rise season 3 #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #tmnt #when I get sick I watch tmnt as a comfort show #and draw #then this happens #raphael x mona lisa #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt raph #rottmnt raphael

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starrystevie · 6 months

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hurt/comfort | mentions of anxiety and trauma | crossposted to twitter

"what's that?" eddie murmurs into the quiet darkness of their bedroom.

dread piles into steve's stomach. he wants to tug his sleeve over his hands so eddie can't see the writing on his palm anymore. wants to hide the pen marks by holding onto his hips instead.

"it's nothing," he whispers back, attaching his lips to the underside of eddie's jaw. he knows his boyfriend melts at the kisses he puts there. knows it will distract him from asking any more prying questions.

the ink is smudged, hardly legible anymore after a day at work. between washing his hands and shuffling papers and rubbing subconsciously at his palm when that certain type of anxiety knots into his gut, the pen marks from earlier are halfway to disappearing until he starts it all over again the next morning.

steve can't help it. he thought that moving in with eddie, having his support, would make it easier to cope with it all. thought that having someone else to help hold him accountable was the answer.

yet here he is, writing a list on his hand every morning, just to help him remember simple things.

he turns on the coffee pot in the morning, makes a note of it on his palm, crosses it out when he turns the pot off and tells himself over and over that it's actually off and he's not imagining it.

he locks the door and writes "LOCKED" in all caps so he doesn't come home halfway through the day to check and make sure it's actually locked.

he brushes his teeth, he feeds the dog, he puts his wallet in his briefcase, he closes the refrigerator door after breakfast and writes reminder after reminder on his palm in sticky black ink.

it helps, really it does, when steve's mind starts to wander in a boring meeting and he gets that hot rush of guilt of forgetting something burning through his veins. he'll look at his hand under the table and scan over the notes, find what's looking for, and try to breathe.

he'll read it over and over, the crossed out "coffee pot" or the "wallet in bag" or the "fed duke", until he feels like it sinks in, blinking back into real time to focus.

it's some strange mix of anxiety and lack of control and head trauma, robin thinks.

steve can't talk to a lot of people about it, embarrassed that he can't remember doing simple fucking tasks, but robin gets it. gets him. robin lets him swing his legs into her lap and pulls his hand up to her face so she can inspect the notes from the day to piece them all together.

it was her idea in the first place to write on his hand. she had suggested paper first but that was too easy to lose especially if he couldn't remember setting it down. she traces over the ink and lets him vent about feeling like a failure or stupid or some type of broken, reminding him gently that none of them got out hawkins without scars.

but steve hasn't let eddie see that yet, too afraid of breaking whatever they've made together, too afraid of scaring him off with his cracked brain and clenched jaw. too afraid of being built so wrong that he'll look like a once shiny penny covered in rust-colored problems.

so he digs his fingers into his palm, nails slicing into flesh & ink, and presses his lips fiercely into eddie's jaw to stop him from spilling any secrets. lets his tongue sneak out as an apology for not showing him his jagged edges. lets his teeth bite against the words he wants to say.

"baby," eddie whispers, his gentle callused hands trailing over steve's arms to settle on his clenched fist. he shakes his head against eddie's chin, bites at his neck again, ignores the way the love of his fucking life is trying to peel his fingers open to see it. see him.

steve feels raw, a live wire, one second away from snapping into sparks of electricity. he shakes his hand free and curls it around the small of eddie's back, tugging him closer, hiding his shame.

"it's nothing," he repeats, voice shaky and rough against eddie's skin.

if he just slots his leg right, if he just presses into eddie right, if he just tips his head and rolls his hips and plays his cards right, he can avoid all of this all together. he can take eddie's mind away from the writing on his hand and convince them both everything is okay.

but it's not that easy, it never is, because there fingers wrapping around his wrist at an awkward angle to pull his hand back and heat flares up in his cheeks. eddie's going to see, going to ask, going to figure out that steve is broken beyond repair and it's all thanks to one too many blows to the head & one too many times of fucking up & one too many times of leaving the goddamn door unlocked.

"i just-" he bites out, trying and failing to pull his arm out from eddie's grasp. maybe some part of him wants to come clean and get the inevitable over and done with. "-they're just some notes okay?"

and now eddie's looking between him and his palm with those eyes that hold love and the pity that he hates, so he blinks away, jolts to get his arm free again. he doesn't want pity, he doesn't want puppy dog eyes, he doesn't want the reminder that he can't-

but then there's lips pressing oh so gently to the hand he rubbed raw earlier when he could have sworn he didn't triple check that he paid the water bill. there's the flutter of eyelashes against his fingertips as eddie trails kisses over the thing that makes him feel less than.

steve doesn't fight to pull his arm back anymore. his shoulders drop, his muscles relax, and that ball of dread in the pit of his stomach eases away into something that feels more like acceptance.

"that's smart," eddie mutters against his palm. "to help you remember?"

and just like that, it isn't secret anymore. just like that eddie's peeled back the layers of bravado and nonchalance and seen steve for the mess he is.

he kisses the notes like it's the easiest thing to do and maybe for eddie it is. maybe taking a piece of steve's hurt is what they found each other for. maybe eddie was made to understand every inch of steve from the inside out like the way a vine instinctually knows to follow the sun.

steve resettles his face in eddie's neck, nods and breathes him in so he has him deep in his lungs. "it was robin's idea."

"she's smart too, then." eddie hums and drops steve's hand gently, letting it wind back around him so he can tangle his in steve's hair. "does it help?"

"yep," steve mumbles.

"how have i never noticed you scribbling on your hand everyday?" eddie asks with his lips pressed into the crown of steve's head.

"i didn't want you to see. i'm pretty good at hiding."

he can feel when eddie takes in a deep breath. feel when his chest expands and collapses before whispering "start adding 'eddie loves me' on there."

steve shakes his head with a small grin, his heart beat slowing from an anxious jack-rabbiting speed to something more eddie paced. "i never need a reminder of that one."

#this headcanon is brought to you by my own head trauma and anxiety causing me to forget literally everything!!!#zoom in on the 4 photos i took of my curling iron this morning to prove it was off #steddie #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #steddie hurt/comfort

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biggest-gaudiest-patronuses · 1 year

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growing up with a perpetually anxious primary caregiver is such a mindfuck. that shit will rewire your nervous system

#not a shitpost #i get that parenthood and modern life in general is extremely anxiety inducing #and that anxiety is a common mental health issue and anxiety disorders exist and do not disqualify you from being a loving parent #but i am begging you PLEASE do not project your anxiety onto your kids #especially younger kids #your job is to make your kids feel safe and secure. that is a primary requirement #that doesn't mean you can't be anxious!#but just like being angry doesn't mean you're allowed to yell at your kids or slam doors or break things #being anxious doesn't mean you are allowed to surround your kids with your own fear and stress or teach them to share your anxieties #your job is to be a comforting nurturing parental figure. that means projecting comfort and love #even when it is hard! even when you are tired or angry or scared!#which is a damn hard job! and you won't get it right all the time!#but dammit babes you gotta TRY #kids deserve to feel safe and comfortable in their daily lives #you CANNOT be teaching them to expect catastrophe lurking around every corner

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httpdwaekki · 2 months

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soothe | h.j.

summary: you were well aware of jisung's anxiety, but you notice he takes a certain interest in the ink on your skin.

wc: 966

warnings: brief mentions of anxiety, mentions of the reader having tattoos. not proofread at all. lowercase intended.

a/n: i used to color and trace my tattoos when i got anxious so i was just thinking about ji doin the same thing. also it is very late and i'm running on a solid 4 hours of sleep but i wanted to write something so now we have this LMAO. anyway i hope u enjoy and as always, drink water, eat something, and take ur meds. <3

my library

(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)

you were well aware of jisung's anxiety. you yourself suffered from it so you understood, the feelings and frustrations that came along with the sinking feel.

you weren't always sure what would trigger the uneasy feeling in the boy, but you were there no matter what. you knew sometimes you just had to put on an anime and hold him until he felt better.

other times you'd sit and listen as he voiced this thoughts running rampant in his head.

however there was something new that you noticed you would lay with him. he'd trace the ink along your skin, drawing every line and every shading etched into your soft skin.

you noticed it when you were laying on your bed one day when the ugly feeling settled in his tummy once again. jisung was in front of you, his back to your chest, yours leaning against the head board, arms wrapped loosely around his torso, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on his stomach.

jisung was barely paying attention the show lowly playing on the screen. not that you were either, hyper focused to gage any change in his demeanor, making sure he was relaxing.

that's when you felt it, the soft brush on your arm, right where your favorite flower was inked into the skin of your forearm. you glance down, watching for a moment, as he traced the lines one by one before moving on to the next section of art.

you couldn't help the heat the rose to your cheek, as he careful recreated the marks so beautifully etched onto your skin. as you watched you had an idea. you place a soft kiss to his hair before lightly tapping his tummy.

"get up for a second bub, i'm gonna grab something quick." you felt him tense, turning his head towards you, hesitating for a moment. "i'll be right back jagiya, i promise. less than 2 minutes." he slightly nodded before sitting up. you place a kiss on his shoulder as you scoot out from behind him.

quickly making your way to your office, you find exactly what you were looking for. you quickly grab it, making your way back to your room. you find jisung in the same place you left him, expect he looked zoned out, toying with the strings of his hoodie.

you sit beside him, placing a gentle hand to his puffy cheek. you looks up, boba eyes shining with worry. you could practically see the thoughts clouding his pretty mind. you give him a smile before placing the bag of colorful markers in his lap.

he looks down at the bag and back to you, confusion now present in his eyes. "so you could color them in if you want." you shrugged, getting up, kissing his forehead before moving to lay behind him once more.

you lightly pull him back into your embrace, arms finding home around him once more. his head positioned on your collarbone, under your chin, relaxing into your touch.

a few moments later you hear the sound of plastic rustling and the familiar sound of markers clashing against each other. once he found the color he was looking for, quietly taking the top off, and begin carefully coloring each one in.

you had a perfect view at his art from above him. your other hand continuing the soothing circles on the skin of his stomach. you smile and you watch him go from coloring to watching the tv. you place a kiss to his hair once more, as he finishes coloring in your ghost. he caps the marker, placing it back in the bag, before carefully setting the colorful ink on your bedside table.

he turns around as he makes his return to you, his turn to wrap his arms around you. you gladly take him into your arms as he shoves his face into your neck. you stay there for a moment before he places a kiss in the junction of you neck and shoulder.

"you okay, ji?" you asked softly. he nods, "i'm okay baby, thank you." he gives you one more squeeze before pulling back.

"what would i do without you, hm?" he asks, placing peck to your lips. your lip turn upwards slightly, "i'm just helping you, jagi, you deserve to be happy." he kisses you once more, this time with a bit more passion.

"you're gonna make me start crying." he mumbles against your plush lips. "okay well don't do that, cause that'd make me sad." you shake your head. "how about i order us some take out and we just stay like this for the rest of the night?" you offer, staring into his boba eyes.

"and if you wanna talk later, i'm here to listen okay?" he nods, falling back into your embrace. "i love you okay? i'm always here, whenever, where ever, you say the word i'm there." you place a kiss to the side of his head.

you feel his breathing start to become uneven, panic arising in your chest. "ji? hey, hey, talk to me baby." you pull him back to look at you. big eyes now brimmed with tears. "what's going on in that head of yours, hm?" ask, rubbing his cheeks.

he shakes his head. "nothing, i just really fucking love you. i don't know what i ever did to deserve you." he says, tears slowly making their way down his face.

"you're you, you deserve everything i can give you and more, okay?" he closes his eyes, nodding his head. you place kisses over each eye lid and finally his forehead.

you pull him back to you, and that's where you stay for the rest of the night. wrapped up in each other, eating ramen before falling asleep in each other's arms.

p.s. new username ah !! i used to be voidreams but i wanted a change hehe. but i hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are always appreciated but never expected :3

#han jisung #han jisung x reader #han jisung fic #han jisung imagine #han jisung fluff #stray kids #skz #stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids fic #hurt/comfort #tw: anxiety

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gunstellations · 3 months

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gentle mornings

#alternatively titled - when your papas have the audacity to cuddle without you #kazurei #buddy daddies #i like to think they didnt really do cuddles much except when rei has a rough night and kazukis warmth and safety is the only thing that #can let him get rid of the anxiety and nightmares #he wouldnt ask for it #it would be kazuki dragging him to bed at first #rei reluctantly but in his weakened will the times hes slept together with miri and kazuki has been the times hes somehow always #managed to go out like a light as soon as his head hits the pillow #even he himself doesnt understand and he doesnt attempt to and he doesnt realise #that its safety and warmth and protection and peace #and thats the only reason he would let himself be dragged to bed #but #eventually when you have had the taste of something so good in the place of chilling nightmares and restless darkness that feels no less #safer than the light #your heart becomes indulgent #and rei will gently and wordlessly ask for an invite to the warmth again #its fulfilling and blissful when the three of them are together #but with just kazukis body enveloping him against the night its a different kind of comfort. even in his sleep he would clutch onto it #thats a tangent right there huh.....anyway. miri would be absolutely betrayed in the morning when she finds them snuggled up #she gets her cuddle time with her papas too then #one big pile of a warm and happy family #yes this is pre relationship yes they would do that yes it is possible #if you got this far thanks i guess jajdjfjs ill hopefully colour this soon but i dont know really so im putting it up here #my art

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tesco-finest-aromantics · 7 months

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i feel like the queer community lost when we started policing labels and making sure everyone used the Correct™ labels instead of letting a person decide what feels right for them

#caique posts #inspired by a post a trans guy made asking if it was okay for him to keep identifying as a lesbian even though he’s now a man #and all the comments telling him no because lesbians can’t be men #and also all the other posts of people asking if they’re ''allowed'' to use certain labels #why do you need permission?#who are you even asking permission from?#we’re not cops #do whatever you want forvever #also inspired by an article in a zine in the 80s/90s of two FtMs in a T4T relationship #one of them described the relationship as being between a butch and his sissy boy #i cannot ever imagine anyone calling themselves that nowadays #because of ''only lesbians can be butches'' and ''sissy is offensive'' discourse #i’m sure there are people out there who would want to describe their relationship like that but don’t feel they’re ''allowed'' to #anyway lots of baby queers are tying themselves in knots trying to figure themselves out #and they’re more concerned with using the Correct™ label instead of the one they feel most comfortable with #yeah i just don’t like it #knowing you’re queer should be a liberating feeling #instead of something anxiety-inducing because you’re worried if you’re using labels wrong

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unsolved-duvall · 1 year

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𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 - 𝐞.𝐦.

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary you're falling apart and no one can see it. apart from eddie, and he wants to do whatever he can to help you. but you're used to doing everything by yourself. (3.9k)

warnings mental health, anxiety, talks of depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts, brief talk of body image issues, crying, lots of emotions, fluff, brief kissing, this is kind of a heavy one so please bear that in mind <3

It was never pretty when you finally let all of your emotions out. It’s why you rarely let yourself feel them.

But if you didn’t let yourself feel them you worried you would drown in them. They would take over your whole being and there wouldn’t be enough of you left for you to recognise when you looked in the mirror.

Everyone always told you there was nothing wrong with you. That you weren’t broken like you insisted each time their monotone voices tried to snap you out of a bad episode. You almost wanted to be broken, you wanted there to be a reason you felt like this. Because if there wasn’t, and this was just how you were. Then you weren’t sure you could live like that. At least if there was something wrong with you, you could blame everything on that. You could blame the way you push people away on that. You could blame the way you self-sabotage on that.

You could blame the way you find so much comfort in sadness on that.

You had felt yourself slipping into that mirror-image version of yourself this whole week. The version of yourself that was there, but wasn’t really there. Your voice wasn’t your own. Every word you said felt like you were reading it off a teleprompter, saying precisely what everyone around you wanted to hear so they could convince themselves that you were alright.

So you did just that. You smiled when you had to. Spoke only when you couldn’t avoid it. And no one noticed.

Apart from one.

Because Eddie always noticed.

You hadn’t been together for very long. You certainly hadn’t been together long enough for Eddie to see you like this. But he knew nonetheless that something was wrong.

It was why he had asked you to come round tonight. Wayne would be at work, as usual, and he wanted to spend the night with you.

When Eddie had told you that, he quickly clarified through blushing cheeks and a peal of nervous laughter that he didn’t mean ‘spend the night with you’ in that way. He just wanted you there.

So you said okay. Told him you would be there at seven. He smiled an almost sickly-sweet smile and pulled you in for a hug, too tight to be casual, and told you he’d see you then; his hand resting on your arm even after you had pulled away from the hug.

You knew he knew. You knew he’d ask you about it. About why you were so… you didn’t know what you were. But it wasn’t you.

It was a cold night. The bitter air bit at your face and tried to fight its way through the layers you were wearing. The sharp pain that shot through your hands at the coldness was almost therapeutic. It distracted you for just a second and was enough to make your mind go quiet. Which was something you had never been able to do.

You knocked on the trailer door and took a step back, waiting for Eddie to open it. But instead, you heard his voice ring out from inside, telling you to come in. You were sure the whole trailer park must have heard him. The boy did not have a quiet bone in his body.

Pushing the door open you were met with a comforting warmth and the yellow light from the lamps dotted around the trailer lit up your face. You dropped your bag to the floor and pulled your sleeves down, tucking your hands away in them, letting the heat sink deep into your bones.

Eddie appeared a few seconds later, popping his head up from where he was knelt down behind a kitchen counter.

“Angel!”

He always called you that. And even so, it still made your heart swell whenever he called out to you.

“Hey Eddie,” your voice came out much quieter than you intended it to. You were trying to put on a brave face, or whatever the fuck your counsellor had called it. Apparently, you had a bad habit of pretending you were okay when you weren’t. You didn’t need a professional to tell you that, but sure. Thanks.

Eddie’s face dropped slightly, his smile fading for a second before he composed himself. His face lit back up if only slightly more forced than before, and stood up.

“I uh- I was trying to find your popcorn. You know the one with the chocolate and stuff mixed in?”

You nodded, taking a seat on one of the chairs that hadn’t been pushed back under the table, pulling a leg up to rest your chin on your knee.

“Yeah but I can’t- I can’t find it,” Eddie’s brows scrunched up in confusion and he spun round a couple of times, his eyes darting across the kitchen.

You couldn’t help the smile that tried to tug at your lips. He looked like a lost child. But you loved him anyway.

Not that you had told him you loved him yet. It seemed too soon and, if you were being honest, the idea of telling anyone, even Eddie, that you loved them scared the shit out of you.

So instead of saying “you’re an idiot you know that? I love you though.”

You said, “I think I finished it last time I was here.”

Eddie stopped abruptly, his hair flying around him as he halted his movements and flicked his eyes over to meet yours.

“You did?” He sounded genuinely upset, you weren’t sure why, it was just popcorn.

“I think so,” You watched as Eddie leaned against the counter, and you switched your legs around, dropping the right one to the floor and resting your chin on your left knee instead.

“Remember last Tuesday? It was storming outside so we stayed in and watched all those films. I ate it then.”

“Oh- I don’t remember you eating it?”

“Yeah, that’s because you fell asleep ten minutes after you lay down next to me”

“You were playing with my hair! It is completely on you that I fell asleep” Eddie laughed between words, and you wished you could laugh too. But you couldn’t.

Eddie picked up on whatever it was you were feeling and his laughter died down as he cleared his throat, a not-so-subtle tell that he felt unsure of what he was meant to say or do.

You hated that it was you who made him feel like that. You hated that you were such a burden to everyone around you; you hated the way you could make even the happiest people feel sad, just by being in the same room as you. It was like you were draining to be around.

“I’m gonna go and uh- go and get changed if that’s okay?” You stood up and waited for Eddie to respond, he seemed to be distracted now, his eyes almost looking through you rather than at you.

“Oh yeah- yeah, of course, sweetheart. I’ll order a pizza for us, yeah?”

“That sounds good, Eds”

Eddie smiled at you. It was a painful smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. As you walked past him he reached a hand out and let it rest on your back until you were too far away.

You made your way to his room and heard him shuffle around behind you. You should say something, right? Tell him you were okay. Reassure him?

You wanted to. You were going to. But then your hand was on the door handle and you had walked into Eddie’s room without saying anything to him. It was like you were fighting a constant battle with your own mind. You knew what you wanted to say and do, but you still couldn’t manage it.

Eddie made sure you knew very quickly into the relationship that you were welcome to wear any of his clothes. In fact, he encouraged it. So, instead of bringing pyjamas with you, you had made the executive decision to wear Eddie’s clothes tonight.

You flicked on the lamp in his room and knelt down by the dresser, pulling out some of his clothes.

You settled on an old-band tee (if you were being honest, you didn’t recognise the band. You were getting better at knowing Eddie’s music, but you were still learning. And Eddie was more than happy to tell you everything about them).

You threw on the already oversized tee and pulled on a pair of his clean boxers over your underwear to wear as shorts.

You already felt safer. His clothes smelt like him. They wrapped you up in a warm hug and told you everything would be fine. You just wished you could believe it.

You turned on your heel and noticed something you had somehow not seen when you walked into his room. His bed. It was made up with fresh sheets on it and smelt like… flowers? Almost as if someone had sprayed perfume on the bed.

And there was a toothbrush and toothpaste lying on the pillow, as well as an eye mask. You walked over to it and ran your fingers over the pillow. Fuck.

You didn’t realise you were crying until your vision went blurry. Your head started spinning and in a moment of upset, you sank to the floor, sitting with your back resting against the wall and you let the tears fall.

Before you could wipe them away you heard the bedroom door open, you spun round and saw Eddie standing there, his eyes flicking between you and the bed. His face filled with dread and you could physically see the internal battle he was having with himself over what he should say or do first.

“Baby- baby, hey don’t cry. It’s okay”

You hid behind your hands. It was a childish move, but it made you feel safe. You didn’t want him to see you like this. You heard him moving around, his footsteps carried across the room as he made his way over to the bed, sitting down on it, giving you as much space as you needed.

“Sweet- hey, I didn’t do it for that.”

Huh?

“I- I told Wayne you were coming to stay for the night and he told me I should make sure you were comfortable here. He took me out to buy you some toiletries and fresh sheets for the bed because apparently mine are too old and even he doesn’t trust them, which I think is rude to be honest- but anyway, that’s- that’s what all this is.”

Eddie took a much-needed breath before he picked up the eye mask and twirled it around in his hands.

“It’s all for you so it’s like being at home. You have one of these, right?” You didn’t answer, still crying and not even looking at him.

“I can sleep on the couch, I was going to! There are blankets and pillows out there for me. I don’t want you to feel like you staying the night meant- fuck. I just wanted it to be nice, I’m so sorry”

Oh.

Oh, you loved him more than you could ever tell him.

“It’s okay” Your voice was small but you needed him to know that was not why you were crying. At all. In fact, that idea hadn’t even crossed your mind. Eddie had made sure you knew there was absolutely no rush, no pressure, to do anything that you didn’t feel comfortable with.

“I wasn’t- I’m sorry I wasn’t crying because of that,” You still weren’t looking at him, but you had dropped your hand from your face. You now stared at the floor, anywhere but looking at him.

“Well- oh. But, baby? Why were you crying then? Are you… does something hurt? Do you need me to get you something?” Eddie’s soft voice hit every nerve in you and brought the tears back to your eyes. You let them fall down your cheeks freely; there was no point in hiding them anymore. He had already seen what a mess you were.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine”

Fine.

You didn’t believe it, and evidently, neither did Eddie because he said your full name and that grabbed your attention. Because he never did that.

“You need to talk to me.” His voice had changed. It was still soft but there was something lining it that made you feel like you had disappointed him.

Of course, you could never disappoint him. But he was worried as hell about you. He had barely slept last night because of you. He had picked up on your change in demeanour for a few days now, but he wanted to give you space. But he couldn’t do that anymore.

“You need to talk to me because you’re scaring me.”

You were scaring him?

“Eddie I-”

“I have tried. I have tried to give you space but- baby, I don’t know what to do anymore. I thought you would come to me, talk to me. But you haven’t and I can’t just sit back and pretend I don’t see you slowly killing yourself.”

You had one hand picking at a loose carpet thread and the other one resting on your knee, digging your nails in until you knew you had have crescent-shaped scars there tomorrow.

“I’m sorry.” It was all you could say. All you could force yourself to say.

For a beat, Eddie didn’t say anything, and you worried you had annoyed him. You were ready for him to get up and walk out.

But he didn’t-

“Come here,” He moved back on the bed, leaning against the wall to give you space to sit however you wanted.

You thought about staying where you were. But something inside you had you moving to sit next to him before you could think about it for very long. You climbed onto the bed and sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder. You didn’t look at him, and you didn’t move when he tried to pull you against him.

You didn’t know why you wouldn’t let him love you.

“Talk to me, baby.” His voice was as quiet as yours had once been.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say whatever you need to say.”

“I-”

Fuck why was this so hard. You should be able to talk to him, if there was anyone in the world you could talk to, it was him. And yet, here you were.

“I just want to feel okay again.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” You had just pulled his heart out and broken it in two. He had never heard you speak like this. He had never heard you speak and have your voice break from the raw pain you were feeling. He wanted, no needed, to make you feel safe.

“I’m so sorry. What can I- what can I do? Tell me, please.” He was all but down on his knees begging you to tell him how he could help you.

“I don’t know. I don’t know Eddie because if I knew I wouldn’t feel like this, would I?”

Shit. You didn’t mean to say that. You don’t even know where that came from.

“I’m sor-”

“Don’t apologize. It’s good, this is good,” Eddie placed a hesitant hand on your leg, and when you didn’t flinch away he let it rest there. An anchor to keep you here with him. A gentle reminder that you weren’t alone. No matter how alone you felt. “Showing emotion is good, sweetheart. No matter what it is.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I don’t know why I did that.”

“Maybe because you feel scared. Maybe you don’t know how you feel right now and that’s really scary, to not understand our own emotions.”

God, if anyone ever called him dumb again you were going to dropkick them because he may just be the smartest person you have ever met.

You leant into him a bit more, your head resting above his shoulder. It felt good to be close to him. He made you feel okay again.

“I just feel- I just feel so… numb. I know I’m not okay. But I don’t know why, I don’t know why I feel this way but I do. I feel this weight in my chest and it-” your voice broke as you started to cry again, but you pushed through, because it was Eddie.

“It feels like I can’t breathe. Because I wake up and I don’t even get one second of calm before the anxiety hits and my heart is racing and I have these horrible thoughts. And I feel like that all the time. I overthink everything and I convince myself that everyone hates me and- it’s so tiring. I hate myself. I hate what I look like like, I hate my own brain, I just hate myself. I feel so uncomftorable in my own body. And I’m not important, I’m not interesting, I’m not…anything. I feel like everyone else is okay and I am just drowning every second of every day and I have to pretend I’m okay because there are people who have it way, way worse. And every day I wake up and I wish-” You cut yourself off abruptly.

“You wish what, sweets?” Eddie asked you, his hand on your leg now rubbing soothing circles into it.

“I wish I didn’t have to wake up.”

In a split second Eddie had pulled you into him and had his arms wrapped so tightly around you that you weren’t sure where he ended and you began. You buried your head inbetween his neck and his shoulder and let yourself need him.

You let yourself need someone else for the first time. You clinged to him like a lifeline and let him breathe life back into you. Your hands went under his t-shirt and you let them run up and down his back. Eddie was holding onto you too tightly to even move a limb. You heard his little shh shh shh’s and I’ve got you’s before you noticed you were crying.

And the you let yourself feel everything you had pushed so far down you almost forgot how much it hurt.

“It’s so hard. Everything is so hard and I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I’m strong enough.” Eddie had to fight to hear your words through the gut-wrenching sobs you were finally letting out. But he did listen. He would listen for the rest of his life if you needed him to.

So that’s what he did. He listened to you. You told him everything, you told him everything you were feeling and he sat and he took in every word. It was hard, for both of you, but it was desperately needed. Because it wasn’t until you truly spoke the words out loud for the first time that you realised how close to the edge you had been.

Eventually you ended up curled into Eddie’s side. Your legs were tangled together and you had your arms wrapped around him. One hand slid under his t-shirt to rest on his chest, it grounded you somehow, to feel him. He kept a tight hold on you the entire time, his calming hands rubbing up and down your arms and his lips pressing delicate kisses on the top of your head every few minutes.

Whenever he could hear you getting emotional again he would cut in with some comforting words, “You’re okay, I’ve got you” and “I’m so proud of you, baby”.

Eventually your words died out and you lay in slience for a few minutes until Eddie said “Can I say something?”

You nodded against his chest and he gently tapped on your arms before pulling you up to look at him.

“You are the most incredible person I have ever met. Every day you just amaze me. The way you talk- shit, the way you talk about the things you love? Oh my god, I could listen to you talk about your interests for hours. Because you get this little gleam in your eye and you do thing where you don’t even finish your first thought before you’re moving onto the next thing.” You watched him talk, you let him talk instead of cutting him off and insisting he was wrong.

“Baby you are so fucking strong. You just keep fighting and I don’t know how you do it. Because you do it on your own, and it kills me to watch. It kills me to watch you close yourslef off from everyone else and fight on your own. I just- I just want to be there for you. I want you to come to me when you need help, and I know you won’t do that just yet- maybe not ever. Because you’re not used to having that, but that’s okay because I will wait for you, i will always be here ready to catch you or fall with you or sit and cry with you, if that’s what you need.”

You were crying again and Eddie lifted a hand to wipe away the tears that were staining your flushed cheeks.

“And you’re so beautiful it kills me that you don’t see that. There is not one goddamn thing I would change about you. Nothing. I swear on my life, fuck I swear on Wayne’s life, I think you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Everything about you makes me feel week in the knees baby I swear.” Eddie’s saccharine sweet voice found it’s home in you and calmed something inside you that you thought could never be calmed.

“I love you.” It was all you could say. Those were the only three words you could muster that encapsulated how you felt right now. And it scared you to death to say them, but you figured that if loving someone scared you that meant it was the real thing.

Without missing a beat Eddie said, “I love you too.”

He pulled you to him and kissed you. It was gentle, sweet. You breathed him in and let his lips say everything else you weren’t ready to hear yet. You kissed until you had to pull away reluctantly to breathe.

Eddie rest his forehead against yours and you both closed your eyes for a second, simply being with each other was enough.

Until- “Wait, didn’t you order a pizza?”

“No. I knew something was going on with you and I couldn’t do anything until I knew you were okay.”

“Oh.”

“Oh I’m sorry did you want a pizza?” Eddie’s voice was laced with sarcasm as he pulled away from you to stare at you. It made you laugh.

“No, I just want you.” You told him, pushing him down flat agains the bed and moving to rest your head on his chest. Eddie let you move him, he let you lie curled into the side of him, half on top of him, before he pulled a blanket over both of you.

“Can you stay in here tonight. I don’t want you to sleep on the couch.” Your voice was muffled by the way you buried your head against his chest, but he still heard you.

“Yeah angel, I’m not going anywhere.”

That’s how you fell asleep that night, with Eddie’s arms wrapped around you and so close to him that there wasn’t even room left for air to get between the two of you. You slept so deeply that night that you knew you didn’t ever want to sleep without Eddie again.

Which was good. Because Eddie wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.

authors note i wrote this last week during a very difficult time. this is very self-indulgent. the writing is not good, i wrote this with no outline, no plot, nothing. i know this is not my best work at all but i still wanted to post it. you've been warned <3

taglist @joeschains

(tumblr please don't delete the last line of this babe i love you)

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson st4 #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #mental health #anxiety depression #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x y/n

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royalarchivist · 1 month

Text

[A sad violin song plays over an image of a sad hamster]

Pac: This doesn't have anything to do with me – I wear a blue sweatshirt, you're crazy, this mouse doesn't even have a sweatshirt, this hamster! [Reading chat] Am I a depressed hamster?

[ Transcript continued ↓ ]*

–

Pac: Actually– that's fine! I embrace that idea – of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy? [He hits his desk, then starts counting off people on his fingers] Fit is gone, Richarlyson is gone, Ramon is gone, Bagi and Empanada who were always there when we were there are also gone, I haven't seen them! It's just me and Tubbo, and sometimes Philza shows up.

Pac: I lost Chume Labs, I lost the Favela, I lost Murder Mystery, I lost Ilha Chume Labs, it's crazy! Look at how much I've lost, and I've gained nothing! Of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy?! How am I supposed to be happy?!

Pac: [Reading chat] "You have us Pac," that's true, thank you. No, that's true, sorry.

* NOTE: Please note that this is an incomplete transcript, as I was primarily relying on Aypierre's translation mod at the time and if I am not confident of the translation, I do not include it. As always, please feel free to add on translations or message me corrections.

#Pactw #QSMP #Pac #March 18 2024 #As much as I love keeping people updated about Pac / the other Portuguese-speaking creators #I think I might not make as many transcribed posts for their clips anymore #I just don't think I'm qualified enough to be transcribing things for a language I don't know #like yeah we have the Qlobal Translator and Aypierre's translators to rely on #And I'm always upfront when I'm not 100% sure about a translation #but I've been thinking about it a lot and it kinda makes me feel a bit icky. Idk.#I might be overthinking this but I just I don't want to spread around translations I'm not super confident about #esp. since I know a lot of people cite my clips in analysis posts or link them to other people as resources #and 90% of the time I'm like ''Hell yeah I love seeing people getting a lot of use out of the archive''#but sometimes I get a bit anxious like ''Did I do a good enough job translating this''#''Am I ruining someone's entire perception of a conversation or character because I left one word out or mistranslated something?''#And like I said that's normally not a HUGE concern since if I'm not certain about a translation I just won't post a clip. but you know #idk it might just be the anxiety talking but I really really don't want to spread bad info #Happy to hear other folks' perspective #I'm really grateful for people like Bell and Pix and others who translate clips and I always try to reblog those #but we don't have a ton of people posting clips & translating things on Tumblr since we're so English-centric #which is part of the reason WHY I like sharing clips of the non-English-speaking CCs #but at the same time I want to do an accurate job representing what they're saying #Maybe I'll just start posting things and give a TLDR context of what they're talking about but not a transcript #that way native-speakers can hop in and add translations if that's something they're comfortable doing #and if not then well. at least I'm not sharing something that isn't super accurate #idk I'm just thinking out loud a bit in the tags #But I'm open to hearing other people's thoughts on the matter #Anyways giant rant aside. q!Pac is NOT doing ok rn

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mediumgayitalian · 1 month

Text

At around half past one, Nico gets a Feeling.

He gets feelings a lot. Nothing he can quantify, just something telling him that something is up, somethings wrong. Or something’s about to be. At this point, he’s learned to trust his intuition, based purely on the number of times it has saved his life; a number he’s long since given up counting. (He’s only ignored his gut feelings three times in his life: when Bianca went on her quest, when his father promised not to hurt Percy before the Titan War, and when he went looking for the Doors. He has learned his lesson.)

So when something at the bottom of his stomach tells him to get up, to check things out — he does.

He knows it could be nothing. (The last time he had a Feeling, it turned out that he had placed a book precariously on the edge of his desk, and it had been about to fall. Not exactly world-saving stuff.) But regardless, he steps out of bed, shoves his feet into his shoes, and creeps out of his cabin.

Camp is kind of beautiful at night.

There’s an eerie calmness to it without so many human disasters running about, and the quiet reflects that. All Nico can really hear is the hooting of owls in the distance, the chittering of nocturnal animals and monsters alike, the distant screeches of curfew harpies, and the pleasant crashing of the waves. The air is clean, when he inhales, and he takes the time to hold it in his lungs for a bit, imagining the sweet breath is healing his burned lungs, turning the scar tissue back to something flexible and normal. Whether or not it actually works, he doesn’t know, but it feels nice.

Under the light of the brightly shining new moon and billions of stars, he starts his patrol. Around his own cabin first — there’s nothing, as he expected, the warning doesn’t seem overwhelming like threats tend to be — and then he makes his way around the circuit, checking behind gardens and shrines and inside braziers. He hums quietly as he walks, something preppy and bright the Apollo kids have been hollering for days, and waves to Lady Hestia, sword heavy at his waist.

“Come sit,” she calls, patting the seat next to her.

Nico does.

“Haven’t seen you out at night in a while.”

He hums, toneless this time, leaning back on his hands and mirroring her gaze at the sky.

“Been sleeping, for once.”

“I’m glad.”

He smiles, knowing that she means it. He watches out of the corner of his eye as she picks up his sword, sliding it from his belt loop, and uses it to stoke the flames. She doesn’t seem afraid of it, or wary. To her it’s just a stick of metal. It’s nice.

“You have you been, my Lady?”

She pokes at the embers a few more times, scooping a few to balance at the tip of the blade for a while. It glows with the heat, and he knows he’ll have to sharpen it tomorrow, but he doesn’t mind. Maybe he can do it while Will is in the archery range. It’ll give him an excuse to be at the armoury at the same time, anyway.

“I’ve been well.” She breathes deeply, small smile pulling at her face. “It’s calmer, and more people wave to me. I like it.”

“Good.”

She dismisses him a few minutes later, sending him off with a promise to chat again soon. She doesn’t need to worry about him promising — he makes a point to sit with her at least once a week — but it’s nice to know someone wants his company, so he appreciates it. He leaves with a wave, walking towards the eastern half of the cabins.

Nothing’s amiss. He can hear campers snoring, and see the odd reading light. Malcolm catches his eye as he walks past the Athena cabin and winks, sending a cheeky salute when he sees the sword held loosely in his hands. So far, everything seems fine. He’s beginning to think the Feeling might have simply been about Lady Hestia, so he decides to do one last check around the Big House and then head back.

Of course, that’s where the issue is.

The infirmary lights are always on. They’re dimmer in the night, more of a glow than anything, but there’s an extra brightness streaming out from the windows, and when Nico peeks inside, he sees Will, standing with his back turned at the nurse’s station.

He takes a moment to check his strength, making sure he has the energy for it — dinner last night was pho and he had three bowls, he most definitely does — and sinks into the shadows by the door. He materializes back in the little alcove by the bandage & wraps cabinet, lurking silently while he blinks the dizziness away.

The first thing he registers is soft singing.

He’s facing Will, now, and can see the glow coming from his hands, enveloping a bowl of some kind. He has both hands coated in some dusky pink substance, massaging and gently pounding it against the sides of the bowl, working it through with great care. As his voice gets higher, the glow gets brighter, fading as he dips lower. He sings something about hills and meadows and the breeze, about wing-song, about the sound of flower stems bending in the wind. For a while Nico stands, listening to the melodious ancient Greek, swaying with every pitch and hold. It’s captivating.

Will is almost haunting when he heals.

There’s a divinity in him — in all of them — but he glows when he sings. Not just his hands, and sometimes his head if he puts enough power in his words, but there’s an almost shimmer to the air around him, a shining warp. His skin gets clearer, and his hair goes more metallic, almost, like spun gold rather than blonde. His freckles make his skin into an inverse replica of the night sky, dark specks surrounded by bright empty between them. His long fingers pluck through bright strands of light like a harpist strums their chords; lightly, carefully, skillfully; like a braider weaves their hair. There’s an undeniable age to his magic, a practice that’s visibly replicated millions of times over thousands of years, as if every healer who has come before him links their arms with his, breathes their strength in his lungs. Sometimes, when he does something truly unbelievable, amazingly beyond reason, he flickers — his orange camp shirt fades into a white chiton, or long robes, or a white coat, or a blue tunic. Watching him heal is like watching the sunrise — breathtaking and unique, every time, but powerful in its cyclic archaism.

It takes Nico a long time to realise Will is swaying.

Snapped out of his trance, he begins to notice Will’s long, slow blinks, the unsteady way he stands, the weight he has leaned on the counter. Even his face looks plainly exhausted under the glow, face pillow-creased and eyes bruised, hair mussed, limbs leaden. Footsteps as silent as he can manage, Nico creeps over to the schedule posted by the door, scanning through the scrawled pen ink.

He curses quietly. Will is not supposed to be awake.

There are really only three people who can work the infirmary to its fully capacity, barring Chiron. Kayla, Austin, and Will are the only ones who can magically heal, as much as the volunteers are imperative, so when the camp is in full swing one of them must be stationed at all times. That’s how Will sets it up. A bit of a waste of time, he acknowledges, but Nico knows he has memorized every time a camper who should have been saved. He carries far too much guilt to ever let it happen again, as inconvenient as his rules may be.

Night shift, though, is a need-be basis. If the infirmary is as empty as it is right now, then there truly is no need to keep one of the three of them awake outside their circadian rhythm, staring at nothing. Instead, they take shifts in the on-call room — asleep, but prepared should anything go wrong, should a monster chase a new camper at an odd hour. It’s Will’s turn for on-call. It’s two in the morning. He should be asleep.

And, yet.

Nico recognizes the look in his eyes. There’s a — frailty, to them, a deep-seated, animalistic fear, one he recognises from the hours after his own night terrors. A single-minded panic that cannot be unseated in any logical way, cannot be comforted with any gentle hands.

Nico handles his fear with slashing swords and bruised knuckles. Will, he knows, handles his fear with obsessive, endless preparation.

Knowing full well nothing is going to drag him away from his focus bar actual cardiac arrest, Nico walks right by him. Will doesn’t move. He settles behind him in the old, creaky leather office chair, curling his legs under him and resting his head on the soft arm. He watches Will, watches the almost machine-like movement to his kneading arms, and falls back asleep to his humming.

———

“…Nico?”

He wakes up warm and a little cramped, in the same position he fell asleep. Sun is streaming on from the many issues, blocked from burning his eyes by Will’s hunched frame, facing towards him now, hands and shoulders shaking with equal violence.

“What time is it?”

His voice is croaky and wrecked from hours of singing. Nico is willing to bet his throat is burned as badly as his hands, cooked from non-stop, sun-borne glowing. The divinity that had emanated from him before has abandoned him and he looks young, lost.

“Early,” Nico says softly. He unfolds himself from the chair, stretching slightly — gods, he is going to ache today — and wraps a slow, careful hand around Will’s wrists. “Probably around six, if I have to guess.”

“I don’t remember waking up.”

“That’s okay.”

“I’m tired.”

“That’s okay.”

His breathing is heavy, laboured.

“I don’t —”

Nico squeezes gently. “It’s okay, Will.”

Will swallows and says nothing.

“Come on.”

Carefully, letting Will’s stiff joints set the pace, Nico guides him out of the infirmary. The sun shines brighter as soon as he steps outside, but he doesn’t seem to notice bar a tiny, almost imperceptible flinch at the change in lighting. Nico switches from holding his wrists to laying a hand on the small of his back, half-worried he’s going to fall over.

Luckily, he makes it to the Apollo Cabin upright, although the stairs take them a while. The hinges of the old screen door creak as Nico pushes it open, and he sees both Kayla and Austin, up and dressed, jump.

“…Will?” Kayla asks softly, eyebrows creased in concern. She walks over to him when he doesn’t answer, frozen still, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Will leans — almost hesitantly — into the touch. The same blankness from before clouds his eyes, although this time there’s less of the fear.

“Hey.” Nico walks over to stand in front of him, waiting patiently for him to meet his eyes. In the minutes it takes, he hears Austin pad over, standing opposite to Kayla, hands clenching and unclenching like he can’t decide what to do with them. “You think you can sleep?”

Will doesn’t answer verbally, but drifts after a moment to his bed. Nico follows, helping him out of his shoes and shirt. After a beat of hesitation, Austin hurries over, turning down Will’s sheets and helping him crawl in. Soft guitar music begins to play, and when Nico looks over Kayla is fiddling with the CD player, turning the dials carefully. Without much fanfare, Will’s eyes flutter closed, and his breathing slows to something deep and even. His twitching fingers still.

“I don’t think today’s an activity day,” Nico murmurs. “I checked up on him a while after midnight; he’d been at it for hours. He didn’t stop ‘til sunrise.”

Kayla rubs harshly at her eyes. “Fuck.”

“He’ll be okay,” Austin whispers. He runs a gentle knuckle over Will’s forehead, then turns his careful, imploring gaze to Nico. “You kept an eye on him?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

Nico inclines his head. “Had a feeling.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Kayla admits. “He was —” She trails off, staring at something in the left half of the cabin — the empty half. “He was like this after the Titan War, too. I think he spoke maybe two words for the entirety of September.”

Nico almost can’t imagine it. The very thought of it makes something twinge in his chest, clench in his stomach.

“We’ll figure it out.” He nods, to convince himself as much as Kayla and Austin, who look to him with way more trust than he deserves. “We won’t let it — it won’t get that bad. We’ll help, and if we can’t figure it out we’ll get help. It won’t be as hard as last time.”

It won’t be as hard as last time because there won’t be twelve shrouds, Nico doesn’t say, but he doesn’t need to. Both Kayla and Austin nod, looking at their sleeping brother with firm resolution.

“This time, we’ll be there.”

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