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cozage · 10 months

Note

Aaaaa, Cozage, I'm thrilled with your post about "Panic Attacks"! I fucking love it when people take care of me or show attention to me, so for me it's just wonderful. But at the same time, I like to help people myself. So, if it's not too much trouble, could you write about how the reader calms Sanji, Zoro, Ace and Lo when they have a panic attack? We can say: the opposite of what was written earlier) Have a nice day ❤

Sorry for my English, it's not my native language 😔

Friend!!! This was such a fabulous idea!! Our boys deserve love :) And I must say, your profile pic?!?! DELIGHTFUL! I’m such a big fan of Chuuya :) he’s one of my favs in BSD <3

Characters: gn reader x Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Law CW: panic attack descriptions, Marineford Spoilers Wordcount:1.4k

Helping Them Through Panic Attacks

Sanji

Sanji is a big scent guy, so certain smells trigger him. Iron and rust are the big ones, but sometimes the salty breeze blows just the right way and reminds him of when he almost starved to death on that rock. Sometimes he just disassociates, sometimes he goes into a full blown panic attack.

Sanji needs to be grounded during panic attacks or dissociative episodes. Talking doesn’t do much for him, he needs to feel people next to him to be brought back to the moment.

When you're in public and you feel him slipping away, you grab his hand and interlace his fingers with your own. Occasionally he needs a little squeeze of reassurance to bring him back.

Sometimes you’ll put your hand on his knee or his arm. You try not to do anything surprising, just little gentle touches to remind him where he is, and that you’re close by.

When he gets a panic attack, you’ve found the best thing to do is get as close to him as possible. Just as a scent triggered him, your scent brings him back to the present.

Sometimes you have to cup his face in your hands and force his eyes to look at you. You’re one of the few people who can do this when he's in such a panicked state. If other people try, he usually fights back. Even Nami and Robin can’t help him.

His eyes are so full of fear, but you only show him your adoration and love in return. That’s all you want him to see in those moments.

As he calms down, he likes to rest his head against your chest and listen to your heart beat as you stroke his hair. Most of the time he falls asleep, and you always let him lay there as long as he needs.

Zoro

There’s nothing particular that really sets him off. Sometimes it’s a smell from his past, sometimes it's this weird deja vu that he can’t place. Sometimes he’s just thinking about how to be better and he starts to spiral. There’s not really any specific thing, it’s usually a lot of little things.

Zoro is a prideful bastard. He doesn’t like people knowing that he’s suffering. So it took you a few episodes to realize what was happening with him.

When you see him starting to panic, you’ll ask him to follow you to a private, quiet room. At first he was skeptical of your methods, but after a few times, he started seeking you out and letting you lead you to a room to help.

You try not to touch him much or talk to him during it, but the two of you have created a pretty good method over a few trials and errors. You place your hand on his chest, and he places his hand on your chest. He feels your heart beat, feels your chest fall and rise, and he focuses on those movements. He shuts off his brain and brings his attention to matching your rhythm.

When he finally matches your heart rate and breathing pattern, he mutters out a quiet “thanks” and returns to whatever he was doing. The first time it hurt your feelings, but Zoro doesn’t like to mull over the fact he needs help.

After a few hours (usually that night, when you are in bed), you’ll ask him if he’s okay or wants to talk. Most of the time he says he’s fine, but sometimes he’ll talk about what was bothering him. But every time he’ll pull you in closer to him and thank you with a little kiss on the forehead.

Luffy

Blood had never bothered Luffy before, so he didn’t understand why his ears started to ring whenever he saw it after Marineford. He didn’t understand why holes in things like trees or concrete structures bothered him so much now. He didn’t understand why he wanted to vomit when he saw an orange hat or a large back tattoo.

Most of the time, you’re able to, quite literally, snap him out of it. Snapping your fingers in front of his face is usually enough to have him step back from the edge of a panic attack, but you also go a bit further by redirecting him to focus on something else. Food, some cool attraction on an island, or a game you know he likes to play.

If you don’t get him in those first few moments, though, his chest becomes tight and he feels like he can’t get enough air into his lungs. He wants to scream out, but his voice is gone too. So he’s left clutching his chest and gasping for air. He doesn’t have enough energy to find you at this point, so he lays into a ball and curls up into a ball and waits for someone to find him.

When you find him or another crewmember directs you to him, you keep your voice low and calm, as if you were talking to an injured animal. You always start the same way: “Luffy, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

You pull his head into your lap and you’ll run your finger through his hair to brush it out, and then start braiding little pieces.

You tell him stories of your life in a soft, even voice. If you can’t think of stories, you make them up. You ignore the tears falling from his eyes and the soft sobs that escape his lips.

Eventually, he falls asleep. But you don’t move. You keep twirling his hair in your fingers, waiting for him to wake up. After a very short nap, he wakes up a new person. He gives you a big kiss and bounds off, his energetic self returning like nothing ever happened.

Law

You didn’t understand why Shachi’s prank made Law so scared. It was just a harmless joke. Shachi had spent hours taping up hundreds of pieces of string all across the common room so people would have to jump over, duck under, and crawl around to get through it all. But when Law had turned the corner and saw you all sitting in the mess of string, you only saw one emotion in his eyes: Fear.

After that you started to notice it more. Whenever he walked into spider webs unexpectedly, or saw those fun feathery boa necklaces at festivals, or heard the sound of a gunshot, panic set into his eyes.

“Everything okay?” you’d ask every time, but he’d always give you one quick nod in response. You started taking that as your cue to intervene.

Law hates making a big deal about things. So when you’re in public, you subtly grab his hand. It’s one of the few times he doesn’t mind PDA, and he grips your hand so tight you have to clench your teeth. But you never complain.

When you can finally get away from others, you’ll take him somewhere quiet and sit on the ground with him. You keep holding his hand, and use your free hand to trace over his tattooed fingers.

You always ask him questions about his crew, trying to redirect his brain. “What do you think Bepo is doing right now?” “How did you meet Shachi?” “Remember last week when Penguin and Ikkaku almost caught the kitchen on fire?” He doesn’t usually respond, but you always say what you think the answer is. You’re not sure if it helps, but after a while his grip starts to loosen on your hand.

Law is a silent sufferer. He doesn’t have many indications when his panic attacks start, or when they end. So you sit with him, answering your own questions until he finally takes a deep breath and says “Okay, I’m ready to go back.” He keeps holding your hand though, for as long as he can.

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crazylittlejester · 1 month

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Let wars be slightly deranged from the war

Let him have Ptsd

Let him have moments where he dissociates to being on the battle field again

Let him look behind him cause he thinks proxi will be there

Let him have a moment where anyone looks in his eyes and all they see is a dead husk of a man

Anon you get it you understand, this is exactly how I write him because he deserves to be allowed to not be okay all the time

What he went through was awful and traumatic and he experienced a full blown war that was started over HIM as a teenager. Regardless of my headcanon that the war spanned three years (from when he was 17-20), it started when he was just a kid. And even 20 is fairly young. War has a severe psychological impact on anyone who goes through it, whether they’re 17 or 50

He absolutely has PTSD, I firmly believe he’s a bit jumpy some times and absolutely deadly with a knife. He is not someone to be snuck up on, the poor person who tries to touch him without warning will find themselves to a knife pressed to their neck before they have a second to process what just happened to them (of course Warriors will pause to see who his ‘attacker’ is before he does something if he’s in the right frame of mind, but if that man is having a flashback or is panicking? Don’t touch him. Don’t even try unless you know he’ll recognize you for who you are)

Behind all his jokes, over confidence, and whiny dramatic personality he puts forth, is a deeply traumatized soldier, and that is exactly how I write him in all my fics. He’s more than a silly goofy comedic relief character, there is so much that he tries to hide from the others

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu wars #warriors linked universe #linked universe warriors #jes talks #jes ask

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salternateunreality2 · 2 days

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AGSZC Deep Cleaning the Biohazard that is Zack’s Apartment

From the @strayheartless vault <3

—

Zack: It’s not a biohazard, that would mean nothing’s living there, and look, my pets are fine! *opens a drawer with a new litter of mice in it*

Genesis: AAAAAAA! Ahem. I mean to say: Zachariah McKinley Fair, a biohazard means it is unsafe for humans, and often involves dangerous non-human organisms. SUCH AS WILD MICE.

Zack: They’re not wild, they’re my fri-

Genesis: Zachariah. If you finish that word, I will firaga them immediately.

Zack: NO! *Hides the mice with his body*

—-

After Genesis’ 5th childish scream, Angeal’s 3rd round of dry-heaving, and Sephiroth and Cloud being found twitching near the entrance, Zack concedes that maybe he has some work to do.

—

Cloud decides to body-double for Zack by riding him like a backpack.

Zack: Maybe this sock is salvageable!

Koala Cloud: Nope, put it in the bag.

Zack: But I wanna-

Cloud: IN THE BAG, FAIR.

—

Sephiroth is in full-coverage PPE to protect his hair and senses, and is excavating the fridge with gloves.

Zack: But my pasta is in that tub of whipped cream!

Angeal, working at the sink and dry-heaving: I MADE THAT FOR YOU LAST MONTH.

—

They have to set up a rotating schedule of visiting Zack's apartment so he's motivated to clean everything at least weekly, but Zack is really grateful.

He never means for it to get this bad, it’s just…he makes friends with the critters! And, well, sometimes he forgets things. And…and sometimes he just gets overwhelmed. He looks at the pile of dishes and knows he can’t do them all today, so he doesn’t do any.

Or he tries. He starts by picking up the dishes in his bedroom, but trips over a shirt along the way. He sets the dishes down to take the shirt to the laundry, but his eyes catch on the dusty blinds, so obviously he has to clean them, but then he looks up and it’s 3 hours later and he’s dismantled the whole window dressing and is cleaning the grooves with a q-tip and everything is worse than when he started.

Zack breaks down trying to explain it, and Genesis is the first to tell him he understands. Genesis and Angeal sandwich him between themselves while Sephiroth puts a hand on Zack’s shoulder and Cloud starts worming his way into Zack’s arms.

—

Zack cleans for each of them all the time, but for some reason, he can’t understand why they’d help him too.

It surprises him when Angeal comes over and just. Does all his dishes. Or when Genesis comes over and "purifies this hellhole of a bathroom" (gives it a decent clean and fills it with good soaps/battery operated candles/fresh towels). Or when Cloud obsessively sorts and folds his laundry, or when Sephiroth puts everything through the wash when he's working from home one day.

Zack doesn't GET that he's done the exact same things for them, like the time he scoured Angeal's pots for half a day, or polished every metallic surface in Sephiroth's apartment, or dusted Genesis' place so thoroughly it gleamed, or put fresh sheets on Cloud's bed, bundled him up, and did all his laundry while he was dissociating.

He doesn't realize the insurmountable task of addressing The Chair is easy for Angeal (it all goes in the wash. It's all dirty enough.), but the same man finds throwing out socks with holes hard (but acceptable when Zack does it for him).

Zack forgets that he folded all of Gen's towels into swans when Gen’s parents were coming into town and is blown away when Gen leaves a simply folded towel on the rack.

He thinks the work he puts into adding color to Sephiroth’s spartan apartment is nothing, not realizing Sephiroth’s heart is warmed by each and every little splash Zack sneaks in.

Zack doesn’t realize that Cloud would rather do all of Zack’s mopping than address the sensory hell that is washing monster gunk off his own boots, which Zack does for him often.

#ff7 #zack fair #sephiroth #cloud strife #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #agszc #adhd zack fair #best boy zack fair #best pupper zack fair

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ask-spooky-manor · 4 months

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Common Fear Headcanons

What common fear/phobia each manor resident has and why

(Leaving it under a Read More cause it got long oops)

Trigger Warning: There are hints to child abuse in Sally’s and Tim’s parts so read with caution

Toby: The Dark

- Toby has a really bad anxiety disorder that only worsens if he’s left in the dark. Not being able to see anything leads to his mind coming up with more and more horrid scenarios that leave him at best: extremely on edge and at worst: having a full blown panic attack.

Tim: Spiders (and some bugs)

- Not every foster home was kind to Tim. A lot of then were outright cruel. One of them would lock Tim in a dark basement for hours on end where he constantly felt spiders crawl on his skin. Even when he was let out, he could still feel the phantom touch of the spiders. It lead to him developing a really bad case of arachnophobia as the sight of a spider takes him back to a time where he felt so hopeless.

Brian: Heights

- Brian is considered to be very fearless, but the idea of being somewhere high up will have him frozen in place. He fell once, technically died, and he fears of it happening again without being given a third chance at life.

Jeff: Heights

- This one is less personal and more having the general fear of falling to his death. He also deals with that phenomenon where once you’re high up, you have the urge to throw yourself off. It really unnerves him.

Ben: The Ocean

- …okay well sometimes the obvious choice is the best one! Drowning is said to be one of the worst and most painful ways to die. With Ben having been killed that way, they’re not exactly ready to jump into a pool anytime soon. Ghosts are mostly numbed to a lot of sensations but even then, Ben never wants to experience drowning ever again.

EJ: Forests

- The fear is completely ironic, but Jack has lived alone in the woods, freshly blind, for enough years to realize that a lot of freaky shit happens there. From ghosts haunting an area to creatures lurking behind the trees to even inhuman acts happening where no one in society can judge. It spooked Jack to the point where he dislikes having to go into the woods to hunt. Again, it’s ironic when he himself is a man eating demon, but you gotta remember that he still has his humanity unlike most forest creatures (and serial killers).

Natalie: Tight Spaces

- She has a classic case of claustrophobia. Generally speaking the feeling of being trapped makes her slowly lose her shit the longer she’s stuck there. It’s even worse if she can’t move her body. It subconsciously reminds her of the time she was made to stay in a poorly funded mental hospital against her will.

Jane: Mirrors

- It’s also an ironic kind of fear. On one hand, Jane very much adores looking at herself in the mirror. She’s gorgeous, she knows she’s gorgeous, she likes being able to see how gorgeous she is. On the other hand if she stares at it for too long, she starts to dissociate, see shadows lurk behind her, swear the person looking back isn’t her. She hates walking by them more than anything, fearing she’ll catch a monster following her if she glances over to the mirror.

Nina: Being Alone

- She is the kind of person who needs to be with someone else at all times. Being left alone will lead to her thoughts racing faster than it should. Her paranoia worsens, and she starts to feel like she’s losing her mind. The anxious thoughts and scenarios she has scares her to no end.

Sally: People

- After what happened to her, Sally unfortunately is someone who was forced to realize that there are terrible people out there. People who want to hurt others for no good reason. She may seem fine living in a manor with a bunch of people now, but truth is that it took a loooong time for her to get used to it. Each time a new person is brought in, Sally needs to take a good while to see whether or not they’d ever hurt her. Luckily no one in the manor ever would, and if they did they’d be swiftly dealt with.

Slender: The Outside

- Slender is borderline agoraphobic. He can’t really leave the dimension he created because if he did, his Curse of Misfortune would take affect. Anyone he’s near is doomed to face great misfortune to a life ruining degree. For this reason, Slender has grown a fear of leaving the manor knowing simply being out there will lead to people getting hurt. It makes him nauseous to step out there even if the portal to the real world opens up in some secluded place.

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arctrooper69 · 1 year

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My birthday is on March 9th I don't know if you do Twins Hunter X female reader like one twin is bad the other is good they both like her but she has to pick one.

Happy Birthday! I apologize for posting this a day late, it kind of ran away on me and what was supposed to be a short drabble ended up becoming six full pages long. Hope you had a great birthday!

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Fire and Ice

The icy caves of Illum hold insight to many secrets. Will your feelings for Hunter help you or hinder you on your journey?

Warnings: Dissociation. Mental struggles. Hypothermia and all the fun stuff that goes along with it 😂

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"I just don't understand! Why now?" Hunter frustratedly threw his hands up. You shook your head and took a deep breath, trying not to be angry at his unexpected outburst.

It had been two years since life as you knew it had suddenly been flipped upside down. Two years since your master had sacrificed himself to save you. One year since your best friend was killed by the Second Sister. A year since you'd cut yourself off from the Force, and a year since you'd sold your lightsaber and joined this ragtag band of rouge clones - your new found family.

"I just..." You looked at your feet, struggling to find the words to speak to the man who'd become your closest friend. Your confidant. Your unrequited love.

You sighed, biting your lip. "Seeing Tippoca City destroyed, seeing everything the Empire has done and is still doing.... I feel like I should've done more."

"Cyar'ika," Hunter breathed, sitting down beside you. He put a hand on your shoulder. "You know none of that was your fault."

You sniffed, wiping tears that threatened to fall. "I know it's not, Hunter. But what if Echo is right?" You looked back up at him. You didn't need the Force to read the conflicted look on his face. "Maybe we should be doing more. We could be helping a lot more people!"

Hunter furrowed his brow. "We are helping people. We're keeping Omega safe. We're doing what we can!"

"Yeah, but I'm not!" you huffed.

"What do you mean?" Hunter turned to face you with a confused expression.

"Hunter, I am -" you paused, "I was a Jedi. I should be doing more."

He cocked his head. "I thought you said you cut yourself off from that. You sold your lightsaber."

You nodded. "I did. I was scared, Hunter. I was a scared kid who wanted to be done with fighting wars. I hid my identity. I hid who I was because I was terrified that an inquisitor would find me like they did my friend. People got hurt because of me."

"So what changed?"

You shrugged. "I just...after seeing all this evil being done under the guise of peace, I feel guilty. It was selfish to cut myself off from something that can help fight that evil."

Hunter shifted, "But it's also dangerous. You cut yourself off to keep the Empire at bay and now you want to just jump back into the fight!? What about Omega? What about her safety? What about us?"

Us? Your heart skipped a beat, but then a more reasonable thought smothered it. He was probably referring to the team. Not me and him.

"If that's really how you feel, then I'll leave with Echo and Rex when I return." You said bitterly.

Hunter tensed. "I -" his shoulders sank in defeat. He couldn't say what he wanted to say. Not when you'd already made up your mind. Maybe he was being the selfish one. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow."

"Where? Where will you go to do this? To be a Jedi again?"

You sighed, suddenly feeling very heavy. Did you really want to leave him on these terms? You didn't have a choice.

"I'll need to meditate. And I'll need to rebuild my lightsaber. I need to go to Illum. To the crystal caves."

***

It was colder than you remembered. At least it wasn't windy inside the caves. The wind had nearly blown you off the mountain as you'd waited for the crystal's amplified rays to melt the entrance of solid ice.

You were only a youngling the last time you were here. You recalled the excitement flooding your veins. But that was years ago - you were young then. Back then, that youngling had friends, she wasn't alone. She was naive - ignorant of the horrors of the war to come. Now you were flooded with an air of uncertainty.

Though cut off from the Force, you'd felt different upon entering the caves. Something in the air felt conflicted - stretched and pulled in so many different directions.

***

"Uhgggg!" You shouted in frustration. You'd been wandering around for what felt like hours.

"What am I even doing here!?" You shouted out loud. Your voice echoed eerily through the icy passageways. You sunk to the floor in defeat.

"You were right, Hunter." you mumbled. You couldn't remember what you did as a youngling all those years ago.

Meditate. Your master's voice rang in your mind. You recalled the hours he spent teaching you and scolding you when you'd begin to drift off to sleep. It had been a long time since you truly meditated. You closed your eyes.

I am one with the Force and the Force is with me. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.

***

It seemed like hours had passed when you opened your eyes. You sighed. Nothing was any clearer. No epiphanies, no sudden emotion, no direction.

A figure appeared suddenly in the distance. A man stood straight at attention. His brown eyes were sharp and hair was long, swept back in a red bandana. Hunter.

What was he doing here? Relief flooded your veins - a welcome distraction from the dangerous chill in the air. So he decided to follow you after all. Despite the heated argument before, he hadn’t left you on your own.

“Hunter!” you called out. He didn't answer but turned on his heel heading down the icy corridor away from you.

"Hunter?" You pulled yourself to your feet, wrapping your coat tighter around you and ran after him. He didn't stop to see if you were following. It was almost like he was certain that you would.

The corridor emptied into a small, natural cave. Frozen stalagmites glistened, sending fractals of light dancing from an unknown source of light. You looked around and realized that you were alone once again.

"H-Hunter?" You shivered. No response. Had you imagined him?! It was common knowledge that the caves could show you visions. Even the younglings knew that. But why would the Force choose for you to see Hunter?

You blinked and suddenly jumped in surprise. Hunter stood before you once again but this time he held out his hand towards you, palm up as if offering something to you.

It glittered in the light - almost as if it were glowing of its own accord. A kyber crystal. Was it yours? It couldn't be. This was too easy. On the other hand, it almost felt romantic, the way he held it out to you. Alluring. You reached your hand out to take it but before you could, he vanished in a cloud of fog. Snatching your hand back as though it had been burned, you stood there in confusion. What was happening!?

Two figures emerged from the fog and you took a step back in surprise. One was Hunter and the other was also Hunter.

Each clone had a crystal in his hand, holding it out to you.

One Hunter was more prominent than the other. He stood tall and at attention. His brown eyes looked at you with pride and...something else you couldn't quite place. He smelt of pine and blaster grease. He was warm, and very attractive.

The other was fainter than the first. He still stood strong but his face was kind and sad - almost pitying. But nevertheless, he felt like home. You wanted to curl up next to him. He was cool, calm, and collected - but still he held an air of authority. That attitude was what you loved about him.

"You have to choose, cyare." The first one spoke.

How could you choose!?

Both figures had Hunter's looks and his deep, husky voice, but there was still something else there that you couldn't explain. Something different between the two of them.

Tapping into the Force did nothing but make you dizzy as if a tornado was tossing you this way and that, like you were wandering around in circles. Light and dark. Peace and Passion. Chaos and Order.

"Don't make this decision lightly, Mesh'la." Warned the fainter one on the left. "You have to choose one of us."

You took a step backwards, head reeling. Choose? How? Both were Hunter. Both were the man you'd fallen in love with.

"We'll be together, Mesh'la." The darker Hunter spoke. "Forget these inscessant politics. Screw the Empire. Screw the Rebellion. It's us against the galaxy. Just us. You, my brothers, and me. That's all that matters."

The lighter Hunter emerged again, holding the crystal in his palm.

"Apathy is just as dangerous as ignorance." He said. "You know this and that's why you have to go. You have to leave."

"No!" Growled the other one. "You can't leave me! How can I protect you if you're gone? You're mine, cyare. I care for you too much to let you go. Choose me, cyare. I'll go with you."

"Everything in moderation, Mesh'la. Be careful. I trust you, and even though I don't like it, I know that our paths are different. Our battles are different. You have always been meant for greater things. Trust me, Mesh'la. Choose me."

You looked back and forth between them. The darker one gazed at you with a lust in his eyes that made you weak. It made you hungry. This Hunter was feral and dangerous. This Hunter excited you. He wanted to join you. Together you'd be nearly unstoppable. The rush he gave you told you that the two of you could take down the Empire. You could save everyone. You could fix everything.

"Save everyone, but at what cost?" The lighter Hunter spoke sharply. There was that tone of voice you knew so well. The voice of a leader. Powerful but kind. He did what was in the best interest of his squad. His family.

"Didn't you say that you wanted to make a difference, cyare? You came here for a reason. Remember that."

You came here for a reason.

Save everyone.

Stop the Empire.

Yes. This must be the right one. The darker one made sense. This must be the right Hunter to choose. Your Hunter.

"You and me against the galaxy," You whispered, stretching out your hand to grasp the crystal he offered.

The ground shuttered and the lights extinguished.

Wrong wrong wrong.

Every sense stood on edge as the sharp warning in the Force came too late. Too sudden. Instead of Hunter's warm grip, your fingers closed on nothing but the frigid air.

The ice beneath your feet cracked and crumbled, knocking you to your knees. Pain shot up your leg, drawing a sharp gasp.

“Hunter!” A shrill scream of terror echoed through the crevasse as you fell into the dark abyss.

***

The painful, stinging smack of flesh hitting water jolted you out of a daze for a fraction of a second before your senses exploded. A violent, stabbing, cutting cold thrust itself around you - through you - stealing the air from your lungs. In a panic, you opened you mouth to scream but the icy torrent forced itself inside sending paradoxical sensations of both blessed numbness and excruciating agony to your mind. Like a datapad overloaded with too much information, you couldn't think. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't feel beyond the brutal cold.

You were vaguely aware of the sudden stop, sliding down out of the water into a small cave of ice and rock.

Coughing and sputtering, you placed your hand against the ice, forcing you to sit up but your arms shook too badly and you collapsed, teeth chattering so hard you thought they might break.

Lying there on the ice, you tried to make sense of your situation. The Force heavily surrounded this place but whether it was light or dark, you couldn't tell. You couldn't discern anything right now.

Maybe Hunter was right. I'm not ready for this. I can't do this. I'm going to die here.

"H-Hunter...." you whimpered, words barely slipping past numb lips. Cold. Maker, it was so cold. The alarm bells in your head were screaming. Get up! Get up! But you found that the will to do so had long since ebbed away.

Tears froze on your cheeks as you choked on the deathly cold - teeth chattering endlessly as muscles painfully contracted.

"You're a failure." The dark whispered harshly. The menacing voice echoed off the walls of the ice chamber, reminding you that you were trapped. There was no way you'd be getting out of this one. Not this time. "Weak. Pathetic." It growled. "You failed the Jedi. You failed yourself. You are unworthy and now you are going to die alone."

Curling in on yourself, you wrapped your arms around your stomach in a desperately futile attempt to stay warm.

So tired.

Hunter I'm sorry.

Your eyelids fluttered closed.

***

"Get up!" A harsh voice whispered at your ear. "Get up!"

A half breathed groan eked past your lips as you lay huddled on the ice, unmoving. The cold didn't bite as hard now. You felt listless. Slow. Gazing at only white through heavily hooded eyes. Even blinking seemed to take tremendous effort.

"Now!" The voice urged.

A thousand fleeting thoughts tumbled around in your mind - slow and mottled together as though trudging through an avalanche or wading through honey. Nothing made sense. You were just so tired.

"Fine." A different voice echoed through the cavern. It was darker than the last. "Just stay here with me then." It growled - dark, sultry, and warm. It was so warm.

You could smell him - a musky, rich, woody scent. It was Hunter's scent. His warm hand swept gently across your face, cradling your head as you leaned into his embrace.

"Hunter," you mumbled, closing your eyes as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Yes," he responded. You could almost feel the vibrations in his chest. "Just rest cyare. Close your eyes. I'll keep you warm."

His words were compelling, his voice intoxicating. More than anything, you wanted to believe him. You longed to give into his embrace, to close your eyes and sleep. He was warm. The ice was cold.

"This isn't right!" The first voice whispered from the ice. "You're not supposed to be here."

The icy whispers gave you pause, suddenly giving voice to the lingering doubt flickering in the back of your mind like a powercell on its last sparks of life.

"Get up! Move!"

An overwhelming jolt of terror flooded your chest as panic gripped the ragged edges of your mind. You shouldn't be here. This wasn't Hunter.

You turned to look at him and gasped. Red flame burned in the holes where his eyes should've been. He stared back at you longingly. Possessively.

"Stay here with me, cyare. I told you I'd keep you warm."

Oh how you longed to stay in his embrace - to drift off to sleep in his arms, but something told you that if you did that, you'd never wake up.

Stiffly you shook your head, unable to do much more. You felt frozen, out of place, paradoxical to the warmth surrounding you.

His arms held fast, gripping your body tighter and tighter against his chest.

Wrong.

Get off. Get off. Get it off!

You panicked, flailing around, though his arms locked you in place.

This was wrong. What was once warm and comforting was now becoming suffocating and hot. Too hot.

"No!"

Finding a sudden strength, you tore him off. Fingers ripping at fabric in a desperate attempt to rid yourself of the suffocating heat.

"Quickly now! Move!" The ice whispered.

You found yourself running. A hole had now formed in the wall of your icy prison. For a brief dissociative moment, you watched yourself run, body dragging itself onwards towards an outstretched hand.

Sliding around a corner you caught a glimpse of the fire behind you. Still burning, still pursuing. You stumbled, flames licking at the backs of your legs. Hot. Too hot. A frenzied panic gripped you as you fought to free yourself from it's ever burning touch.

"Keep running, cyar'ika!" The ice whispered, stronger this time. "Run!"

A figure formed ahead of you, giving voice to the whispers. He held out a hand. A second figure emerged. The same two as before.

"CHOOSE!" They both screamed. Your head pounded. You fell to your knees, wanting to curl up into a ball and give into the numbness consuming you.

Just close your eyes. It's all a dream. Sleep. Your delirious thoughts flickered traitorously through your mind.

"Choose! Choose! Choose! Choose! Choose!" The screaming voices seemed to get louder and louder, wrenching you from your lethargic stupor.

"I CAN'T!" you screamed. "I CAN'T CHOOSE. Neither of you are right. Neither of you are Hunter. I love the real Hunter."

The ice shuttered again as you sank to the floor, closing your eyes, preparing for your imminent end. You couldn't move but it didn't seem to matter anymore. You would freeze to death - even if you got it right.

Goodbye Hunter.

Suddenly the two figures merged into one. Your eyes flickered open, squinting at the blinding light. The figure held out a hand.

No. Please no more. I can't take anymore.

As though it could read your thoughts, a voice spoke from the cavern. Hunter's voice. The two had become one voice now.

"Take it, cyar'ika. You survived. You did so well. Trust me one last time."

You reached out with the last of your strength and took the hand. The ice shook with a violent finality.

Had you chosen wisely? Was this another trick?

You burst through the ice and collapsed. There was no fire. No ghostly ice vapors. Just quiet. Peaceful quiet.

You lay on your back staring up at the clouds. It was snowing. A giggle escaped from your throat, drawing a weak smile on your lips. The snow felt so good on your exposed skin.

Voices drifted down the hill. Tech. Echo. Wrecker. Hunter.

There was something heavy in your hand - the hand that had grasped onto your savior. Slowly, finger by finger, you uncurled your hand. The kyber crystal glimmered as the sun emerged from behind a cloud.

Hunter's frantic voice grew louder as the clones neared you.

A smile formed from frozen and cracked lips as your eyes slipped shut. You were safe. Hunter was here. The real one. Your Hunter. You'd passed the trial. You'd chosen the light. And Hunter would be there when you awoke.

--------------------------------------------------

@zoeykallus @ttzamara @nahoney22 @merkitty49 @viva-la-whump @agenteliix @dumpsters-little-matchbook @nekotaetae @ladykatakuri @loverofclones @heyitsaloy @padawancat97 @jambolska-grozdova @flyingkangaroo @melymigo @rain-on-kamino @jiabeewrites @my-own-oracle @dragonrider9905 @queenofspades6 @ordinarylokix @jupitersaturnapollo @queencousland101 @vampirerouge @southernbaguette @staycalmandhugaclone @dalu-grantkylo

If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

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lassieposting · 17 days

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Serpine in therapy for the asks :)

Okay so my headcanon is actually that Nef doesn't get a choice about going to therapy. It's part of the parole agreement he makes with the Sanctuary when he immigrates to Roarhaven. Whether or not he is answerable for our Serpine's war crimes, and whether the Sanctuary here can try him for his war crimes back in Leibniz, is still up for debate by legal professionals and he'd rather not risk it, so in exchange for his freedom he agrees to comply with weekly check-ins with a parole officer (which ends up being Skug, because China is spiteful), regular therapy, and location monitoring.

And like. Honestly, he thinks the whole thing is a massive waste of time - the Sanctuary flexing its power over him to make a point. He shows up, he's charming and personable, he flirts with the therapist and the girl on reception and anyone else he happens to bump into - but he thinks that before long, he'll have them convinced that he's psychologically normal and doesn't need their services, and they'll discharge him.

But like. The thing about Nef, aside from having a sadistic streak a mile wide and Chronic Backstabbing Bitch Disease, is that he's spent the vast majority of (at least) his adult life surrounded by people who would turn on him in a heartbeat if it suited them to do so. He comes from a world where abuse, manipulation and betrayal are not only common, they're the norm. That's the only way to relate to the world and to others that he understands. The Faceless worshippers are a nasty bunch who all encourage each other's worst impulses and learn to care only for themselves, and on the rare occasion that they break those habits, they tend to get hurt by those who haven't. So like, Nef's normal meter is completely and utterly broken. In his Handbook backstory, his childhood was unstable and emotionally damaging. As an adult, he has nothing to do with his family - all he had was Mevolent and the Church. His relationship history is littered with violent psychopaths like Christophe Nocturnal and Jaron Gallow, people who approved of and supported Serpine's own sadistic tendencies, but also tended to vent theirs on him when it suited them. This. Man. Is. A mess.

The therapist suspects complex trauma - although, that's not as unusual a diagnosis as it is for mortals: it's a given for millions of sorcerers who survived the 500 Year War - narcissistic tendencies, though not to the point of a full blown personality disorder, and an obsessive focus on/one-sided rivalry with Skulduggery.

Honestly, I think Nef would mostly use it as an opportunity to annoy Skug. He pays attention, but mostly so he can take what the therapist tells him and put it to use while Skulduggery is stuck in the car with him for an eight hour stakeout. Psychoanalyse him. Armchair-diagnose him. Treat him to a three hour monologue of "My therapist said..."

But like. You know that thing where you start saying hewwo to mock other people who say hewwo, and it's kind of a mean-spirited joke at first, but suddenly you've unironically adopted hewwo into your daily vocabulary and can't stop saying it? Yeah.

Some of it starts to get in via osmosis and sheer habit. He spends so long mockingly telling Skug about all the problems that he (Nef) thinks he (Skug) has, that he actually starts to notice things for real. He can tell when Skug is dissociating. He can point out to Val that she has a tendency to pull away from and lash out at the people who want to help her, because she's terrified to be seen as anything other than competent and capable, and then he'll think, hold on, I do that too.

A lot of therapy goes in one ear and out the other because it doesn't work for him - complex trauma is just Like That. The standard practices - like CBT - seem like platitudinous drivel to you, and the fact that everyone else seems to think they work often feels like a great big joke everyone is playing on you. But he takes in enough to start making some small changes to how he interacts with others and how he behaves. He starts learning how to react appropriately to distress signals in the people who are becoming his friends, rather than seeing those signals as something to take advantage of, a soft spot to sink a knife into and twist. He's developing basic empathy, which actually helps him, because for once in his life he's in a situation where bonding with others is The Way To Get Ahead, rather than something that would get him killed.

And he's getting a better grade in therapy than Skug, by virtue of actually agreeing to go, so he gets to be smug about that.

#skulduggery pleasant #nefarian serpine #sp headcanons #100% tho hes storing it all to use to get into peoples heads in the future if he needs to

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roachisnonbinary · 28 days

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mostly self-indulgent roach hcs [because i too don't talk to people much and have survived near death experiences]:

• roach really doesn't like certain textures [hence why he wears so much gear to keep his body covered] and wears ear defenders [albeit connected to the rest of the team so he can hear orders] on missions because he's sensitive to sound and if he was to hear ALL of it, he'd be in pain and discomfort. all the gunshots and shouting n shit. however, he's proven time and time again to his superiors that he's well able to follow commands and keep himself safe even when he has them on, so he's allowed to wear them as much as he likes to be comfortable-- because often, we work better when we're comfortable in our environment, or at least stress slightly less.

• when he goes back to base after a mission he's EXHAUSTED. completely. he just flops down in his quarters and tries to sleep, curling into himself to be comfy with what little blankets they get in the army [it's the military after all, not a goddamn hotel]. but he's soso sleepy. he wants a nap. he wants bed.

• he isn't good at socialising. not really at all tbh. and being mute makes it so much worse. he doesn't know how to approach people, so he just sits in the sidelines watching them interact, but if he thinks they're looking back at him, he looks away, acting like he never even saw them and nothing's happening at all. the only one he's close to is ghost because they've been in so many missions together. plus, ghost is the more chilled out one. soap is a captain, all serious. he also struggles with eye contact and the team has just accepted that even if he's not directly looking into their eyes, he's still paying attention.

• he fidgets a lot. rubbing his fingers together or on nice textures or maybe making a little repetitive noise. he likes to do things with his hands and dislikes being completely unoccupied when awake.

• roach follows his orders obviously but wouldn't want to be around him as a "friend." not that he DISLIKES his captain, but he just feels like there's a large power imbalance between him, merely a sergeant, and a full-blown captain with a straight face and rough voice. he kinda feels small beside him.

• he likes fluffy animals. he's more gentle than the rest of the team off missions, and sometimes he'll just get all excited seeing a fox or a stray cat/dog or a rabbit or something passing by and want to pet it, even though he knows he shouldn't.

• he CANONICALLY has a journal, but im willing to bet sometimes he doodles in there too, so it isn't bland. like if he saw something interesting/important or maybe was simply bored, he'd just do a little doodle. he's a visual thinker, so pictures help him remember.

• he once had some small pet bugs, which he cared about quite a lot. however, after a long mission that lasted a good week or so, he came back to them dead. he cried over it with his head in his hands.

• he has autism and adhd. also a dissociative disorder of some sort, or something. his identity is very unstable and he never really feels fully "present." [<- projecting]

• he's pansexual but also graysexual/grayromantic. he doesn't experience much attraction, but when he does, the gender doesn't matter.

#not ALL can be related back to me #but some can #and i like to think of roach as neurodivergent #and this is just how i wanna think of him #gary roach sanderson #roach cod #cod roach #roach hcs #141 hcs #cod headcanons #141 headcanons #cod 09 #roach call of duty #call of duty roach

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thatwildwolfwrites · 7 days

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Battle Scars (REMASTERED)

So this is one of the first Shakarian fics I ever wrote and looking back, it was... Well. It sure was... something. It wasn't good, y'all.

I've spent the better part of today on remastering it — fixing my awkward grammar choices, making some of the glaring tell-not-show moments a bit more subtle, and overall making this fic more... readable. Remaster!

Word count: 5,337 (remastered from 4,800!)

Fandom: Mass Effect

Relationship(s): Shakarian

Summary: Perhaps Shepard isn't very smart to go into a scar comparing contest with the guy who almost had his head blown off by a missile, but then again who ever said she's supposed to make smart decisions? Plenty of her scars say otherwise.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: this fic discusses (though doesn't depict) dissociation, self-harm, body dysmorphia, and suicide.

Excerpt:

"Well..." Garrus hoped he wasn't crossing any lines right now, but this was the point of this whole contest. "There is one scar you have that I've always meant to ask about." "And which one is that?" Instead of answering, he gently trailed his fingers over the long scar on her face. The lighter, thick scar tissue was a bit raised in comparison to the rest of her skin. This must have been a deep cut. She shivered a bit under his touch. "Claw or tooth?" he asked softly. The origin of this type of injury was almost always an encounter with some sort of predator, but he couldn't guess the specifics. "Claw," Shepard answered quietly. She wasn't looking at him, almost deliberately so. "Varren or husk or—" "Turian." Garrus stopped for a second — a moment's hesitation as he wondered if he could be touching her, if it was alright.

You know the drill — full thing is on AO3 <3

#mass effect #mass effect fanfiction #shakarian #garrus vakarian #garrus #femshep #idk how to tag fics i still don't #first time remastering something so i might be annoying about this and reblog it a lot!!

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hetalia-angel · 4 months

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“Strangers”

37 followers special

Just another poorly written one shot about 1p Canada, sorry.

TW: Guns, death, mentions of cigarettes

“Don’t talk to strangers,” that short statement was taught over and over to Matthew from early childhood. To survive was to stay silent, to not let a word of information fall through, and to even not interact at all.

Maybe that’s what made it so comical that when faced with the biggest stranger of them all he was to tell them everything… When held at gunpoint the path of survival was to say his full name, age, where he grew up, anything to make him more human. This was meant to shift Matthew from that piece of freshly marinated meat ready to be thrown on the grill, that target on the wall waiting for a bullseye, the prey; to a person. A person that could be empathized with; a real breathing human with thoughts and feelings. A son, a brother, a friend, a story that would be so much harder to erase from this world…

As the barrel of the gun was pushed against his temple Matthew couldn’t help but dissociate back to his memories. Every special occasion; every birthday candle he’d blown out during his nineteen years of life. Each bedtime story or lullaby Francis had used to lull him into sleep… Or maybe this was some sick form of karma for every fight with Alfred, every screaming match with Francis, or even all the packs of cigarettes he’d stolen in his teen years.

Matthew stared through watery eyes at the assailant. The man’s sharp purple eyes reminiscent of his own, each scar along their face, and the look of great shame. Perhaps the man was once a child that never had their needs quite met, never had a safe place to go, no friends to turn to when everything went to shit. Maybe if this man had known Matthew from the beginning. If he’d known what kind of music moved Matthew, the food that sparked joy, or even his favorite color that everything could be so painfully different…

The deafening silence as the trigger was pulled back rang loud. The harsh slap of concrete against Matthew’s soft skin as he fell to the ground. The warm flood of crimson blood that trickled into his mouth leaving a metallic taste…

Matthew had once been told an old wives tale that your brain can live six seconds after the body dies out… His vision blurred, ears ringing, and skin burning up as he counted, “one, two, three, four..”

#hetalia #1p headcanons #hws canada #hetalia au #2ptalia #2p!hetalia #2p canada #2p headcanons #aph canada #matthew williams #na brothers #na bros #alfred jones #aph america #hws america #aph france #hws france

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namor-shuri · 1 year

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After this post, I started to think: What would a “Talokan/Wakanda vs Common Enemy” playlist be like? What songs would come to mind during their glorious battle? Then this sprouted:

- - - - - - - - - - + - + - + - + V + - + - + - + - - - - - - - - - -

The day is finally upon them. Everyone has prepared for this very moment. Namor and Shuri stand firm, front and center, leading their army of Talokanil muscle, the Dora Milaje, the Jabari Tribe [with every Wakandan tribe], Bucky Barnes, and fellow allies who all stand in formation. This means war. There’s no going back. Namor flys high above, roaring his battle cry “Líik’ik Talokan!”. He raises his spear towards their enemy in the distance. Shuri looks forward and chants “Yibambe!”. Their people chant and follow suit. Namor and Shuri make brief eye contact with one another as he nods, an unspoken “ready when you are, Black Panther”. She nods, then stares back at their target. Shuri raises her arm, gives the official signal and snarls as she charges forward full speed ahead:

sᴄᴀʀʟxʀᴅ + ᴋᴏʀᴅᴇʟʟ - ᴍɪss ᴍᴇ / ᴋᴀɴʏᴇ ᴡᴇsᴛ - ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ / ᴋᴇɴᴅʀɪᴄᴋ ʟᴀᴍᴀʀ - ʜᴜᴍʙʟᴇ [sᴋʀɪʟʟᴇx ʀᴇᴍɪx] / ᴊᴀʙʙᴀʀ ʜᴀᴋᴇᴇᴍ - ᴘᴀɴᴅᴀ [ʀᴇᴍɪx] / 2ʟᴀᴅᴇ - ᴏᴀʜ ᴄᴜ̈ᴢ [ɪɴᴛʀᴏ] / ᴀᴅɴ ᴍᴀʏᴀ ᴄᴏʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴏ - ʟᴀᴀʏʟɪ’ᴋᴜxᴀ’ᴀɴᴏ’ᴏɴᴇ / x ᴀᴍʙᴀssᴀᴅᴏʀs - ᴊᴜɴɢʟᴇ / ᴄʜɪʟᴅɪsʜ ɢᴀᴍʙɪɴᴏ - sᴡᴇᴀᴛᴘᴀɴᴛs [ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛᴀᴘᴇs ʀᴇᴍɪx] / ᴅᴍx - x ɢᴏɴ’ ɢɪᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴀ / ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ sᴛʀɪᴘᴇs - sᴇᴠᴇɴ ɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀʀᴍʏ [ᴛʜᴇ ɢʟɪᴛᴄʜ ᴍᴏʙ ʀᴇᴍɪx]

- + - + - + -

The scales of war begin to tilt less in their favor. What sick game is the universe playing now? Shuri puts pressure on her wound while she scans the battlefield, helplessly witnessing a massacre of her people. Talokanil and Wakandan men and women fall one by one at the hands of their rival. She stumbles over to a Talokanil warrior bleeding to death and urges her to “Get up! Please! This is no place for a soldier to die!” She cradles the woman while she slowly withers away, crying out for “K'uk'ulkan” one last time. Namor frantically surveys the terrain while he soars overhead, looking for Shuri in the carnage. He finally spots her, grateful she is alive. She stares up at him while tears stream down her face, silently questioning to herself, “have our gods abandoned us, my Ch'ah Toh?”:

sᴛᴇᴘʜᴇɴ - ᴄʀᴏssғɪʀᴇ / ᴛᴏʙʏ ғᴏx - ғᴀʟʟᴇɴ ᴅᴏᴡɴ (sʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ) / ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇʙᴏ - ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜɪʟʟ / ʀᴇᴅ - ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇs / ɢᴀʀʏ ᴊᴜʟᴇs - ᴍᴀᴅ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ [sᴘᴀɴɪsʜ ᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ] / ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ᴍᴀʟᴛᴇsᴇ - ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴄᴀᴠᴇs ɪɴ [ᴏʀᴄʜᴇsᴛʀᴀ ᴠᴇʀsɪᴏɴ - sʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ] / ʟᴏʀɴ - ᴀᴄɪᴅ ʀᴀɪɴ / ᴢᴀɪᴀ - ᴡɪɴɢᴢ / ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍs - ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴀᴅ / ᴀᴅᴇʟᴇ - sᴋʏғᴀʟʟ

- + - + - + -

Namor lands hard, digging up earth as he tosses his spear aside and slides towards Shuri in a panic. He scans her body for signs of serious injury. Her emotions are indecipherable while he looks her over. She winces as he moves her. “I’m okay, I’m fine..I…I promise. Just check on the others.” “I can’t just leave you here Shuri!” Namor yells, furious at her stubbornness and selfless heart. She’s too tired to argue and takes in tiny sharp breaths at a time. Rage begins to fuel Namor, his disdain for the surface world coursing through his veins. He starts dissociating and breathing hard. He only hears his pulse through his ears, the environment growing quiet. He slowly stands up, with his wounds going numb. Shock takes over his system, bringing him into fight or flight mode. Perfect. Namor grabs his spear, wipes away his enemies’ bloodshed painted across his face and chest. It wasn’t personal before, but now it is. Namor shoots up and shouts across the skies “Líik’ik Talokan! We will be victorious, or die trying!” and rallies the remainder of his men and women as he storms forward, pupils blown. He smirks, with only murder on his mind:

ʟᴏʀᴅᴇ - ᴇᴠᴇʀʏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴡᴀɴᴛs ᴛᴏ ʀᴜʟᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ / ᴍʀ ᴋɪᴛᴛʏ - ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴀʀᴋ [sʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ] / ᴄᴊ - ᴡʜᴏᴏᴘᴛʏ [ᴇʀs ʀᴇᴍɪx] / ғᴇᴠᴇʀ ʀᴀʏ - ɪғ ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ / 2ᴡᴇɪ + ᴇᴅᴅᴀ ʜᴀʏᴇs - ᴡᴀʀʀɪᴏʀs / ᴋᴇɴᴅʀɪᴄᴋ ʟᴀᴍᴀʀ + ᴛʏʟᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴏʀ - ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ x ɴᴇᴡ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ ᴡᴀɴᴅ [ᴍᴀsʜᴜᴘ] / ᴋʟᴇʀɢʏ - ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴍᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ / sᴋʏʟᴀʀ ɢʀᴇʏ - ᴋɪʟʟ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ / sᴀᴍ sᴍɪᴛʜ - ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ’s ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʟʟ / ʟɪɴᴋɪɴ ᴘᴀʀᴋ - ɴᴇᴡ ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇ

- + - + - + -

Wakanda and Talokan eventually reign victorious, marking their first triumph together as a joint force. The fallen are laid to rest back in their respective homelands. Their alliance truly feels like a gift. Something orchestrated by a higher power. Fast forward: Shuri is seen in one of her labs, speaking with Griot and tinkering with her latest invention that will help strengthen her people and Talokan’s defenses. She feels her mother and brother’s presence in the room with her and it brings Shuri comfort. She giggles, imagining them peering over her shoulder while making jokes and remarks. A hand touches her shoulder and she jumps, turning around to find Namor. He grabs both of her arms and brings her in, closing the gap between them. They rest their foreheads together like the last piece of a puzzle and breath each other in. “I almost lost you once. I can’t risk that again, Princess, especially when the stakes are much greater now.” Namor caresses Shuri’s stomach over her lab coat. She places her hand over his. They both exhale:

ᴛᴇᴍs - ʜɪɢʜᴇʀ [ʟɪᴠᴇ] / ᴛᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ ʙʟᴀɴᴄʜᴀʀᴅ - ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ᴋɪɴɢ / ᴢᴏᴇ sᴀʟᴅᴀɴ̃ᴀ - ᴛʜᴇ sᴏɴɢᴄᴏʀᴅ / ʏᴇ sᴏʟ ᴋɪᴍ - ᴡʜᴏ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ / ᴊᴀᴍᴇs ʜᴏᴍᴇʀ - ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴛᴀᴄᴀᴍᴀ ᴅᴇsᴇʀᴛ / ʜᴀɴs ᴢɪᴍᴍᴇʀ - ᴛɪᴍᴇ / ɢᴏʏᴛᴇ - ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ’s ᴀ ᴍᴇss / ʟᴀᴜʀᴀ ғʏɢɪ - sᴀʙᴏʀ ᴀ ᴍɪ / ᴊᴜsᴛɪɴ ɴᴏᴢᴜᴋᴀ - sᴡᴇᴇᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ / ʟɪɴᴋɪɴ ᴘᴀʀᴋ - ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ

- - - - - - - - - - + - + - + - + V + - + - + - + - - - - - - - - - -

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celesticalcryptids · 6 months

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Your name is VULEEN CYOTIS

...

Huwhuh? Sorry, you were SPACING OUT, you do that SO MUCH actually, dissociation would be your middle name if trolls had middle names, and you knew what a middle name was. Forget all of that though, literally because your memory SUCKS, because this is your introduction! You are an AVID FANFIC WRITER and you simply do not care who knows it; Silly, Angsty, Romantic, DOESN'T MATTER YOU'LL WRITE IT ANYWAY!!

You also, like many olives, hold a DEEP FONDNESS FOR THE OUTDOORS which you hunt, kill, and consume whatever you can get your grubby mits on. You often take your moirail on hunts with you because shit is he the second most depressed troll you've ever met in your life! You've also tired to get him into ROLEPLAYING. Text wise anyway, you don't think he'd survive an hour in a full blown FLARP session, which you instead play with your matesprit when you can, or simply with strangers! You don't care.

Your lack of shame for most things make not many people take you seriously to be honest but don't get it twisted, you may be whimsical and silly and SPEAK BEFORE YOU THINK so you STUMBLE OVER YOUR WORDS LIKE A FOOL and wear a SLENDER FURBEAST CLOAK at all times, but you are a very intelligent troll when it comes to interpersonal relationships! At least you claim to be- you give excellent advice eighty percent of the time, that's better than nothing!

Your role in Alternian society is that of a VEHEMENARIAN, tending to injured Lusii of all kinds with other olives. You love taking care of these creatures, it gives you a comforting sense of PURPOSE.

Your strife specibus is....um. You don't have one? You always felt that you never needed one, your HANDS and TEETH work just fine, why would you need anything else lmao

Your trollian handle is chasseurTreatments and !! YEW MAKE HELLA SURE UR UPTOP ENERGY IZ CONVEYED AT ALL TIMEZ IN UR WORDZ OFFLINE AND ONLINE X3 !!

#homestuck #homestuck oc #fantroll #troll oc #trollsona but not really?#troll sona #i am cringe but free

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rubeau-art · 9 months

Text

Some Notes on Jax and Atlas - Their relationship, how they feel about each other, and how their connection works (plus any other noise that jumped into my head as I was working on this)

- After footage of Jax using his new abilities leaked into the news and he became public knowledge, Jax adopted the title ‘Atlas Soldier’ that was used in the news as a sort of alter-ego he could slip into to protect himself.

- Unknown to him, the alterations made to his brain by the Midra Machine made it so this choice of slipping into the ‘Atlas’ alter-ego, caused new neural pathways to form, allowing this splinter personality to start manifesting.

- As it becomes easier and easier for Jax to slip into this fabricated persona, he begins to experience bouts of dissociation, where he’s aware he’s doing things, but the memory of those things is thick and fuzzy.

- These episodes later turn into full blown blackouts where he has no memory at all of events, and is pretty freaked out by this.

- Atlas himself begins as a sort of slightly self aware fight or flight response (normally set to fight). Because he’s a splinter formed around Jax’s attempts to protect himself, that becomes the core of what Atlas is. He is protective. He protects Jax.

- Atlas is not evil. He is flawed. He is made of many of Jax’s repressed emotions, has that same short temper and all he really knows at this point is violence because 90% of his manifestations happen when Jax is getting overwhelmed mid-fight.

- As Atlas becomes more self aware, he begins to realise that if people knew he existed, then Jax would be in danger. This adds more tension to Atlas’ desperate need to be seen and understood. While he harbours some resentment towards Jax for being able to exist as himself, he is still loyal and protective of him.

- Atlas is at first only able to take over when Jax is at his breaking point. Stepping in to take action that Jax doesn’t think himself capable of.

- Later he can do it almost at will, finding a gap he can slip into (often when Jax is tired/distracted).

- In Act III, Jax and Atlas have suffered from the machine’s effects for too long and it’s made them both aggressive and unstable. The two of them blur and flip between each other on a dime, wired into permanent fight or flight.

- It’s at this point in Act III that they lash out and end up hurting Monroe. When they realise what they’ve done, a split second later, they flee the base in a blind panic and go into hiding before being located and taken into custody by Loomis. (Act III is a really rough time)

- Since the very first splinter started to develop, Atlas has manifested in Jax’s dreams and nightmares. Often appearing as either some untouchable distant hero Jax could never live up to, or some sort of unstoppable monster.

- They have confrontations and conversations within the dreams, and as they start to understand each other more and even out the playing field, their dream encounters become more of a way for Atlas to keep Jax updated, Jax to keep Atlas company, and the two of them to grow together and accept each other.

- Their relationship has been rough for a long time. Between Jax’s fear and Atlas’ resentment, they strain against each other constantly. But by the end of things they’re honestly glad the other is there. It makes dealing with everything they’re going through a bit easier as they understand it in a way no one else ever could.

- They are two sides of the same coin.

- Ceres is the first person to knowingly have a conversation with Atlas. He’s shocked to be treated like he’s his own person, and her acceptance of him and what he is does a lot to chill him out and settle his relationship with Jax. (She doesn't love Atlas the way she loves Jax, and he knows this. It hurts him, but her acceptance of him means everything to him)

- In other settings, Jax and Atlas are often depicted as twin brothers. At each other’s throats, but protective, loving and loyal.

Overall they're a mess, but between the ups and downs, things are getting better.

—-

From a design standpoint:

Jax and Atlas are nearly impossible to distinguish from each other usually in the book. Atlas stands a little straighter, and doesn't bother doing his hair, but that's it.

In art though, I like to be able to show which is which by fiddling with the eye colour and how the hair is

They’ve come a long way and changed a bit since their first iterations for sure, but this is the most accurate info I can give at the moment. Hope it makes sense.

#Atlas Rising #Jaxom Hanway #Atlas #Atlas Soldier #Long post #I cannot stop thinking about these boys #Sad boys who need each other

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