#i also love putting him through severe trauma with lots of agony | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ifwebefriends · 10 months

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dude . . . that post where you said you liked nagito not because he's a depressed uwu bad boy but a traumatized complex cancer patient . . . we are the same lmao i literally made a research paper on his overall condition. very interesting case study ngl

That’s so cool! I’d be interested in reading your paper if you’re comfortable sharing. It’s nice to see that not everyone boils Nagito down to a generic bad boy tumblr sexyman. I actually have a lot of feelings about him and how he affected me personally because I can relate to him in a weird kinda hyperbolic way.

Okay it’s trauma dump time now strap yourself in. (TW suicide, cancer, COVID-19, needles, medical treatment)

I’m actually a cancer survivor myself (stage 4 breast cancer diagnosed in July 2020) and because of COVID and cancer I took a gap year in my education (I had just graduated high school and was set to start college) to go through treatment, so I had a lot of time on my hands to play video games and watch TV shows. So I ended up playing Danganronpa 1 and 2 in like October through November of 2020 (I would have played V3 then too but I didn’t have access to it yet).

When I first started chemotherapy in August of that year I tried to stay optimistic, hopeful, and cheery about everything, I didn’t want people to worry and pity me (right after my diagnosis, the most painful part of it all was watching all my loved ones worry so much about me) and I was told that I would most likely survive it. But round after round of chemo along with the rampaging global pandemic that I was honestly more scared of (I was immunocompromised because of chemo and I live in a country that generally didn’t take mask-wearing or quarantine seriously) gradually wore down my spirit little by little. By November when my treatment plan got extended (at least two more rounds of chemo than initially expected) I was worn out, miserable, hopeless, and borderline suicidal. This was around when I played SDR2 for the first time.

When I first played through the game I thought that Nagito was kinda just a fun character who made the game more of a challenge since he was kinda working against you. I never hated him or anything (my first reaction to him was actually “OH MY GOD IT’S THE FINGERS IN HIS ASS GUY!!!!”). Then after I finished the game I read online that if you talk to him in his free time events (I later did the free time for all the characters myself in school mode) you eventually find out that he has cancer and dementia and that’s when my whole perception of him shifted. I felt a sense of comraderie and unity with him that I feel with other cancer patients/survivors. Also, due to my piss poor mental and emotional state at the time I found myself really relating to him in a way. I felt strangely seen and understood.

Needless to say, even in this dark time in my life, I wouldn’t even consider doing the things that Nagito did in SDR2. Nevertheless, I guess I related to him because he represented my specific agonies and pains to a hyperbolic degree. Due to cancer and the treatment related to it, I was angry, hopeless, frustrated, and at a severe disadvantage while the whole world was suffering as well. (Cough cough chapter 3 dispair disease cough cough)

I think generally that the emotional and mental health aspect of having cancer and the general dark parts of having cancer aren’t talked about enough. A lot of people like to make it this hopeful empowering thing and I think it’s fine to do that, it’s good to have hope and strength in times like that, but when one can’t stay strong and hopeful in those circumstances it doesn’t really hit well. And I think that’s what Nagito represents to me. He represents someone beaten down by his life circumstances that he had no control over, and while he puts up an optimistic front, he’s not the #strong #sobrave chronically ill person that seems to be really common in modern media. He represents the dark side and the brutally negative emotions that can come from chronic illness or just shitty life circumstances. He doesn’t care much about his own life or well-being, he’s basically given up. But he wants his short life to mean something good so desperately. In his own way he cares about the people around him and the world around him, he just thinks he can’t have a place in that world. He’s willing to hurt and kill people in order to, in his eyes, make the world a better place at the cost of himself. He’s like an antithesis or foil to other cancer patient characters I’ve seen who have a generally more positive saccharine outlook on their condition and their life (I.e. Augustus Waters from The Fault in Our Stars).

Thankfully I’m much happier and healthier these days, I’ve been done with chemo for over two years and while I’m still going through some treatment related to it (hormone suppression pills and shots since my cancer was ER+) but it pales in comparison to what chemo did to me. I may not relate as heavily to Nagito as I used to, but he still holds a special place in my heart. I see him now and still think of him as a flawed but sympathetic character who was a twisted mirror of my deep-seeded physical and emotional pains that I felt back during the most miserable time of my life. At that time, I couldn’t see the light, so he sat with me in the darkness.

Nagito’s story isn’t really a story about having or surviving cancer.

Thankfully my story has a happy ending as I survived cancer and am still in remission. I am much happier and healthier now and I have a new appreciation for life, how fragile it is, and the little joys that make it what it is. I don’t relate to Nagito as much now as I did back when I was going through cancer treatment, but when I look at him, I’m reminded of how he reflected the darkness inside of me during my worst times and how comforting he was to me.

Thankfully I beat cancer and I am much happier and healthy now, but I still look at Nagito and remember the dark comfort he gave me through my worst of times.

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jonsa101 · 3 years

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Episode 3x14: A Reflection of How Max Stepped Into Love After A Season of Suffering

Gif credit @supagirl

Hey guys! I can’t believe the season finale has come and gone! I think my mind is just taking time to comprehend everything that has happened! Sharpwin is officially canon! As I’m typing this out, it feels strange writing a meta on the other side of things. Since season one, I’ve been writing metas about how these two belong together and making predictions about the trajectory of their relationship. Now, to be on the other side of things where I know longer have to do that because these two are finally together is kinda crazy. I feel so elated!

Now y’all, I’m not going to lie to you, I had a totally different meta planned out and that meta is still in my drafts. I will probably release it because it was a general review of the episode but I thought it was more important that I put this meta out first. When I was watching the finale live, I didn’t love it. I just didn’t. I loved that Max and Helen finally got together at the end of the episode but I had a major issue with how it unfolded. The issue my friends was this scene right here:

Baby!!! When I tell you this scene TRIGGERED me, it did! Now mind you, I wasn’t upset with Max’s storyline of searching and struggling to take off his wedding ring. It is human nature for Max to still have an emotional attachment to his ring. He’s not still grieving but essentially that ring is the only thing he has left of Georgia and represents a life he once had. Him taking it off was always going to be a monumental moment for Sharpwin and for himself. The issue that I had was Max casually telling Helen that he freaked out about losing his ring!!! To me, after the voicemail he left her, after Helen flew standby and was in a six hour flight to see him, it was an incredibly CALLOUS thing for Max to say. I know Max wasn’t thinking in this moment. I know his intentions were clearly not to hurt her but words matter and him being careless with his was a complete disregard of Helen’s feelings. She was deeply hurt and upset when he said this and rightfully so! I mean just look at her expression here:

Helen’s entire being read like

“I can’t believe you”

And girl same, because neither could I!! He knew he fucked up and he obviously made up for it in the end but y’all when I was watching it live, everything that came after that elevator scene was was tainted for me. I had a hard time believing that Helen would let what he said slide so easily and in the moment, I couldn’t appreciate the beauty of them finally coming together! 😩 In my personal opinion, there were so many other ways that scene could have played out without Max having to literally tell Helen to her face that he was worried about his wedding ring! I know they were trying to build up to the “big moment” where he finally takes his ring off and runs back to Helen’s apartment but man, that moment did not sit right with me in my spirit! It still doesn’t and I don’t think my opinion will ever change on this.

With that said, I’ve now done several rewatches of the finale where I specifically watched the scenes after that awful moment by the elevator. As I’ve had time to reflect, my perspective has changed. I no longer view the moments after the elevator scene as tainted but as something deeply profound and beautiful. Hell, even as I reflect on that scene by the elevator, I still don’t like it, but in a way I understand it in how it relates to Max’s overall journey when it comes to Helen. To me, Max Goodwin is a man who fell deeply in love with Helen in the midst of the most complex situations and a season of him suffering. It’s been deep rooted, complicated and messy from the start and over the past three years we’ve seen Max navigate through the complexities of his feelings for Helen and the circumstances he’s found himself in on our screens. I think when you look at season three finale and specifically the journey of Max finally making a choice to be with Helen, you have to put into context Max’s history and how it influenced what that looked like. So y’all that is exactly what I want to do in this meta so let’s dive in.

One thing I think we need to acknowledge is that, even though as an audience we have loved seeing Max and Helen’s journey unfold, the road has been so TOUGH for them. As Helen said in 3x13, it’s been a fight! Especially for Max. The suffering he has endured over the past three years has been unfathomable and much of his relationship with Helen and his feelings for her have been developed under these traumatic and tragic circumstances.

At the very beginning of the series, when Max and Helen first meet they clash but it doesn’t last for long. It’s his first day at New Amsterdam and as the new Medical Director, he wants her to stay at the hospital and treat patients instead of doing press tours. Helen on the other hand wants to continue doing press and for the most part ignores his demands for her to return to the hospital. When she finally does return, she does so because she learns that Max has cancer. This bonds them at the onset as Helen is the only person in his life that knows about his diagnosis. As an audience, when we first see them interact, we instantly saw the sparks fly between them. Their chemistry and natural witty banter made us immediately take a look at their relationship and what potential they could have in the future. Though we were shocked by his cancer diagnosis, I think the fun and lightheartedness of Sharpwin’s first interactions really masked how traumatic this must have been for Max. On the first day of his dream job, that he sacrificed his marriage for, he learns that he has cancer while having a baby on the way. Those are the awful circumstances that first bring Max and Helen together.

As Helen becomes Max’s doctor and he swears her to secrecy about his diagnosis, their friendship and bond grows deeper. His passion and drive to help his patients, reignites Sharpe’s love for medicine again and inspires her to put her patients first. They become vulnerable with each other more than anyone else in their lives. He confides in her about his broken marriage and she tells him that she wants a baby. When he almost dies, she becomes his deputy medical director so that he can focus on his care. All of these moments are significant to them because somewhere along the way they develop feelings for each other. They didn’t plan for it and it’s something neither of them are consciously aware of but unknowingly, they both start to fill a place in each other’s lives that was clearly more than a doctor and patient relationship or a friendship. This “place” wasn’t called out until episode 1x16 were the clairvoyant called out their feelings for each other. When episode 1x17 comes around, after a night of revelations and a scramble to get the power back on in the hospital, Helen decides to step back as his doctor. If she wasn’t aware of her feelings before, in this moment, she’s fully aware of them now. This is an effort to safeguard her heart and set boundaries because the lines of who they are to each other were already so blurred. When she “triages” their relationship Max’s reacts badly and honestly they’re both devastated and are on the verge of tears:

As viewers, we loved this moment but when you peel back the layers of what’s actually going on in this scene, it’s gut-wrenching. The subtext is so clear here yet their situation is so complex and layered. We know for a fact that Max wasn’t trying to lose her in ANY CAPACITY. We also know that in the way he TRULY wanted her he couldn’t have her and Helen knew that too. Not when he was married, had a baby on the way, and fighting cancer at the same time. Y’all that’s hard and profoundly painful when you think about it and it makes this scene all the more tragic.

When Helen steps back as his doctor, at first Max seems to be handling it well but as his cancer starts to get worse, he completely breaks. Like I said earlier, over the course of his cancer treatment, Helen filled a place in Max’s life that was so much more than just his doctor or his friend. So when he’s dying and no longer has the person he feels deeply for play an active role in his treatment, he lashes out. He’s dealing with a range of emotions he can’t handle or properly process. Things only get worse from there and at the end of season one Georgia and Luna’s life are on the line and Bloom and Helen scramble to save them. When it seems like everyone was able to come out of that traumatic event unscathed, they get into a devastating ambulance crash that changes everything.

Season 2 brings another level of pain and suffering for Max when he loses his wife after the crash and is thrust into single fatherhood. Not only is he grieving but he’s also dealing with guilt of falling in love with Helen while he was married. The complexities of his feelings is something he struggles with throughout this season and it affects his relationship with Helen. At some points he pushes her away and at others he desperately needs her. Once again, Helen and Max’s relationship is caught up in the most complex of circumstances that is riddled with agony and trauma.

By time we head into season 3, Max doesn’t even have time to breathe or think about his relationship with Helen because they’re both thrust to the frontlines of the pandemic.

I bring all of this up again to emphasize that there has never been a time where Max and Helen’s relationship hasn’t been wrapped up in trauma or some sort of suffering. It has always been one thing or another with them. It’s been A LOT and Max has tried to navigate being in love with Helen through his suffering and under these crazy ass circumstances. So after rewatching the finale, the questions that run through my mind are:

How do you step into love when all you’ve known for the past three years has been suffering?

How do you love openly and freely when for so long you’ve emotionally suppressed your feelings for someone because it was “wrong?”

How do you let go, heal, and move on with your life?

To me, answering these questions is what the season finale for Max was all about. When you’ve suffered so much and endured so much it’s not easy to step into a new chapter in your life that’s hopeful and filled with love and possibilities. For Max, I don’t think in his wildest dreams that he ever imagined that he and Helen would be in a place where they could actually be together. Considering everything they’ve gone through, quite frankly it’s a fucking miracle! So when he actually makes it to the other side and not only SURVIVES but has a chance for happiness, I don’t think he knows what he’s doing. Pursuing/having feelings for Helen from a place that isn’t wrapped up in trauma and tragedy, where there are seemingly no obstacles in his way, is totally and completely new territory for Max. I think he’s clueless in how to do that in the right way and as he navigates through that, naturally there are hiccups.

That’s evident with what he said by the elevator and also in this moment here:

Max doesn’t have a clue but he wants to make sure that he doesn’t fuck it up because he DESPERATELY wants this! I also think there’s something to be said about how we as human beings can self-sabotage ourselves when we finally have an opportunity to get what we want. Fear, guilt, worthiness usually comes into play with that and I think for Max there was definitely a fear with moving on with his life, guilt of surviving it all and having a chance to be with the woman he’s loved for so long, and a question of if he’s worthy of actually having happiness.

Their walk in my mind perfectly embodies him self sabotaging while also trying to navigate his feelings of desperately wanting to be with her. At the beginning of their walk, you see that at one point he clearly wants to hold Helen’s hand but he doesn’t (I would use a gif here y’all but I literally only have room for 10 😩). I’m focusing my attention on Max here because essentially this whole moment between them is a part of Max’s “mini story” in the episode. The ball has always been in his court and truly what we are witnessing is his journey to step into love because Helen is ready and has been waiting on him.

The most compelling moment in their walk scene for me was this one:

I find it strange for Max to walk so far ahead when he was the one who asked her if he could walk with her. My first thought while watching it live was “what is he doing” and I think Helen’s expression reads the same way. After analyzing this for a bit, I genuinely think that’s the point of this scene. Like I said earlier, Max doesn’t know what he’s doing. To be with Helen like this is, where its romantic, peaceful and drama free is probably blowing his mind and he doesn't know how to navigate this. He doesn’t know how to receive this second chance at happiness.

The internal war of Max stepping into love or allowing fear, guilt, and unworthiness to hold him back becomes all the more evident when they get to Helen’s door:

He knows he wants to come in. Helen know he wants to come in too. This man literally says goodnight twice and when Helen responds with “you said that,” it perfects this scene. She wants him to come in as well but she’s not going to ask him to. In this moment, she sees his internal struggle and she knows that he has to make the choice himself on whether or not he wants to move on with his life with her.

When he walks away, for a moment that was Max choosing to hold onto the pain and trauma of his past. That was him choosing to hold onto the guilt that was keeping him from healing and moving on. With the suffering he’s been through, it makes sense. In many ways he’s been conditioned to fight, to suffer and to endure. It’s what he’s used to. But praise the lord, he thinks of the moments he just shared with Helen.

The joy he has with just being in her presence.

The opportunity he has to freely be with her and have a life with her after loving her for so long.

He is not condemned to a life of suffering. It was only for a season. He’s in love with Helen and wants to be with her. Like hell is he going to let this opportunity at a second chance of love and happiness slip away from him. So guys, he slips off that ring, runs back to Helen’s apartment and makes a choice to step into love. Step into this new, uncharted, chapter of his life with Helen Sharpe.

Anyway guys! I hope y’all enjoyed this! I might be releasing one more meta but we will see how it goes.

As always feel free to reach out to me on Tumblr and on Twitter @oyindaodewale. Love you guys!

#new amsterdam #Sharpwin #Max Goodwin #Helen Sharpe #Max x Helen #sharpwin meta #new amsterdam meta

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spilledkauffie · 4 years

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Talk To Me

Repost from an old account I deleted!!!

Pairing: Logan Howlett (Wolverine) x reader Word Count: 1.6k+ T/W: trauma mentions / sexual innuendo A/N: honestly, my favourite Jackman role!

Slowly bringing your knees to your chest, the sheets made a gentle rustling sound at your action. The dark wooden walls of the room reminded you of a cozy cabin. Dimly lit with a vintage lamp on night stands placed at either side of the bed, another source casted a stream of light throughout the small quarters. You watched from the bed, as your lover finished washing his face, blotting the towel across his skin.

For a moment, you furrowed your eyebrows, seeing him stare at the mirror, hands pressing firmly against the counter. It wasn’t a blank stare, but more of a self-reflective stare. Wishing you could read his thoughts, just to understand why he did what he did, you knew that was nowhere near your power. Only able to feel emotions, not even see memories, when you touched someone it always seemed useless to you, but he often loved it, rarely having to actually tell you when he was in the mood. Or any mood for that matter.

“Logan,” you called sweetly, watching him almost shake out of the stare to look your direction, “you coming to bed?”

“Yeah...yeah,” he nodded, shifting his gaze downward, flicking the bathroom light off.

Giving him a half smile, still truly concerned that something was wrong, you shifted under the covers. Clicking your night stand’s light off, you turned over just in time to see him remove his shirt. Happy with the sight, as you loved to feel his skin, your demeanour became mildly impatient for him. Noticing you eyeing over his body, he smirked, amused.

“That’s all it takes?” Logan raised an eyebrow, with a signature cocky head tilt.

“Stop,” you blushed gingerly, hearing him chuckle at your embarrassment.

Finally joining you beneath the sheets, he turned the last official light out. The moon gave a silvery atmosphere, not too bright, but not too dark either.

Snuggling close to your wolverine, he gladly accepted your contact. Bringing your leg over his hip, he kept a protective hold to the back of your thigh. And his free hand explored the beautiful curve of your spine, his coarse fingertips being as gentle as possible. Pressed practically chest to chest, you smiled. Stroking a thumb across his cheekbone, a soft sigh escaped you.

“What?” Logan asked, sensing something was up.

“I wish you’d talk to me,” you admitted, fluffing back a tuft of his stubborn hair.

“I am talking to you,” he smart-aleckly answered, smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, when you frowned, unamused.

“I mean really talk to me,” you emphasised the middle of your sentence, “about why you stare at your reflection, or why you’re so protective, you know- maybe- even about...your feelings.”

With a deep chuckle, Logan rubbed the back of your thigh methodically, almost as a comfort to avoid your question. Feeling a mixture of emotions run through his body, you always had the hardest time with him. Perhaps it was all the adamantium that blocked the signals, or maybe he was just good at covering up his actual feelings. Either way, it made it difficult; you stroked softly along his neck in a desperate attempt to try and gain more emotions.

“Oh, you’re serious?” He asked, observing your facial expression.

“Yes, I am,” you nodded.

Pausing for a moment, he thought things over, “alright,” he looked away, as if debating his next words carefully, “whatdya want to know?”

Shocked he was letting you in, even just a little bit, you took it. Shifting back to think of the first question, you had so many after all.

“Okay…,what do you think about when you stare at the mirror?” You looked over his expression, wanting to avoid any aggression.

“Wow, gotta start with the tough ones?” Logan laughed, before another pause, “I can still see the monster created. I’m made of metal and sometimes I think that’s all I am, just...cold. But you’re making it pretty hot.”

“Logan,” you whispered, both trying to keep him on track and actually picking up a strong sense of his emotion.

“Right, sorry,” he regrettably apologised, hoping his comment would’ve deterred the conversation, “can’t you feel and see all this without me talking about it?”

“I can’t see the memories attached to the emotions,” you said, “I wish I could...especially with you.“

You placed your hands against his bare chest, lovingly, Logan perked an eyebrow questionably, not opposed, but very curious. You closed your eyes and focussed hard on his emotions.

“Tell me more?” You asked.

As he began to speak, you tried only thinking on the emotion. As he began describing his pain you felt it in full force.

“A room full of people, military people. No faces, only figures,” he said, “water, lots of needles, filled with metal.”

The further he dove into his painful memories, the more you began to feel it. Your heart raced, eyes filled with tears and soon the emotion of pain took over, spreading through your body. Gasping, you took your hands away, curling into yourself as much as possible. It was a pain you had never felt before. Almost- as if death was near. It felt never ending.

“Hey, hey,” Logan’s voice was comforting, “you’re alright, I got you.”

On the verge of panic, you clung onto him. His emotion had already changed back to protective which helped ease you. Though you couldn’t understand how he could switch between emotions in a heartbeat, you still appreciated his comforting presence. Looking down, you felt his strong arms holding you and spotted the dog tags hanging around his neck. Tears slipping passed your eyelashes, you met his eyes. Fingertips shakily holding on to the metal that hung from his neck with his mutant name stamped into them.

“What did they do to you?” You spoke, voice hoarse.

Looking you over now, he could see how scared you were, “I’m not sure.”

Nodding your head, you knew he was still trying to figure out everything he had been through and now, now you knew only the slightest bit of pain he felt. Overwhelming for you, yet he managed ever single day with it.

“Let’s get some sleep, yeah?” He suggested, bringing you closer.

“Yeah,” you whispered, sliding your hands around his frame.

More odd than usual the night was hard for you. Normally you slept perfectly fine knowing you were wrapped in the arms of a lover and an indestructible protector, but the experience of such high pain threw you off entirely. It stuck with you, keeping you up, but it also broke your heart to know how much he hurt...

Checking the clock to your left, it was early morning, still dark out and the school was quiet. There was no point in staying in bed, so you managed to escape his hold, slip on his button up shirt and head down to the kitchen. Finding some tea, you put on the hot water and waited. Seated at the island in the center of the room, you placed your head in your hands and replayed the emotion. So much pain and torture, how did he-

“Hey,” a familiar voice startled you, making you turn in your seat.

“Logan,” you said relieved, “why’re you up?”

“Cause you’re up,” he countered, stepping closer.

“I’m sorry,” you swallowed, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Looking downward, you wanted to avoid eye contact, knowing full well that he was bound to ask what was keeping you up. It wasn’t typical of you to leave him, especially at night. You really didn’t want to talk about what had happened earlier.

“I don’t think I need to ask, do I?”

His serious tone brought your attention to him. Debating whether or not to tell him was difficult. Imagining he’d feel like it was his fault for ‘giving’ you his emotions, when really you asked and he was simply answering you honestly. He always felt like he hurt those around him even more than he’d been hurt. Ignoring his pain and realising others was a trait of his.

“I- it’s just,” you started, looking away when you felt tears again, your emotions heightened, “you’re going through so much agony, how-”

Another pause came to you as you choked back tears. Quick to come to your aid, he stepped between your knees, placing a hand to your cheek and wiping away a falling tear. Brining your hands to hold his wrist, you felt his heartbeat.

“Gone through,” he corrected you, “Sure, I’ve gone through a lot of shit, but I’m here now and I’d say pretty happy compared to the past.”

“You made me feel emotions I have never felt before,” you admitted, looking up.

“And you’ve made me feel emotions I’ve never felt before,” he smirked, watching a smile pull at your lips.

Dipping down, his hand slipped to the side of your neck and his hips hit yours. With lips inches away from yours, you pulled back slightly.

“Logan, here?” You asked.

“C’mon, a kiss won’t hurt,” he whispered, “it’ll help, I promise.”

Smiling, you actually agreed, any other emotion running through your body would be nice and you were glad to accept what he was offering. Curling your fingers through the belt loops on his jeans you pulled him closer, letting him know you approved. Happily continuing, his lips met yours and it wasn’t long before you were melting underneath his touch, at just the slightest action. Wrapping your arms around his neck, the kiss became deeper. You felt several of his emotions, this time enjoying every one. If there was something you certainly loved most, it was his passion.

Pulling back from you, Logan could tell you were now wanting more, “you want to know why I’m so protective?”

“Why?” You bit your lip, batting your eyelashes.

Squeaking when he lifted you up, you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling him squeeze your ass, you smiled at the next words his raspy voice spoke to further distract you.

“It’s just instinct.”

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imnotwolverine · 3 years

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The Accidental Family - Chapter 4

Henry Cavill x OFC - multi-chapter

< Chap 3 | Chap 4 The First Date night | Chap 5 >

Disclaimer: fluff, mild smuttiness, some strong language

Word count: 2.303

Author’s note: I had so much food the past couple of days 😂So yea, despite the Christmas days having been weird at best, me and my bf had quite a bit of fun - and a whole lot of romantic dinners to kill the time. And ..now we’re talking romantic dinners..

(Link to my Masterlist)

‘Black or purple, what do you think?’ Henry held up the two ties before Kal, the dog tilting his head left and right, as if deciding which one was better. The answer was apparently quite simple according to Henry’s dog; with an excited huff the Akita jumped right up in Henry’s face, licking him all over.

‘Yea, yea, hahahah - that’s the goal. Hahahah. You got me there. So..no tie, then?’ He pushed the dog back down and ruffled him through his thick fur. Kal borked softly and Henry agreed. ‘Very well, a little less formal is probably better, you’re right. We’re having a date at home, anyways.’

Henry breathed in deeply and looked in the direction of the kitchen, his stew simmering on a low fire as he heard Phoebe rummage upstairs, some closet cabinets opening and closing in a mildly hasty manner.

With Henry still in full recovery, it was decided that it would be best to just stick to a cute home dinner for their first dinner date since his memory loss - just to avoid any overzealous fans that would disturb him in a restaurant after the news had been released that he had suffered a serious head injury in a motorcycle accident.

The accident had left many scars. Both physical and mental. It was weird to be here at home now more people lived here, the kids on a prolonged stay with the grandparents while Henry and his wife recuperated from the shake-up his - their - life had had.

In the past days Henry had seen about every specialist and doctor in the book. He went from lengthy couch sessions with a psychologist - the story of the introduction of his kids having been received with mild horror - to the keeping of sleep and medication schedules with his doctor to make sure he got enough recovery and rest in between re-learning the basics of his new life.

The fact that a good many people surviving such head trauma would never be the same, troubled Henry greatly, and so whenever he was allowed to search the internet, which was sparingly, he scoured it like a starved man, the printer in the living room doing over-time to print all the articles and research he had found.

But, all that research would have to wait for the moment. First he’d have to get reacquainted with another part of his life: his wife. And even now as he heard her rummage around the master bedroom, he couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter with nerves.

What if she didn’t like the new Henry? What if he couldn’t fall in love with her. Or the sex would be awful, or..

NO! Stop those thoughts.

Looking back in the hallway mirror, he unbuttoned his blouse a little further, a little peek of chest hair popping out over the sleek white fabric.

‘Button up or down?’ Henry looked over at Kal, but the dog thought his human dad was being ridiculous, his body turning around to trod back to the kitchen to slobber up some water.

‘..Very well then.’

It was near surprising how easy dinner went by. Which of course, shouldn’t be too much of a surprise; Henry and Phoebe had several dinners at home before this one, though they never had been quite so romantic. Henry had turned the lights down low and lit some candles, the kitchen radio playing some soft jazzy music playing in the background.

With dinner over and the dirty plates returned to the dishwasher - the dance of moving around the kitchen together now quite well practised, they ended up on the couch, the both of them sipping on some tea, since it was strongly advised not to consume alcohol after Henry’s brain injury.

‘So...’ Henry finished the last sip of his tea and placed it on the side table next to his right elbow, his blue eyes searching for his wife’s slightly dazed expression - she did have a wine or two with his stew.

‘Hmm?’

‘Are you falling asleep on me, wife?’

‘Hahaha you wish.’

‘I do wish.’

‘Oh stop it!’ Her cheeks burned a bright pink, making Henry chuckle - at least he still got some of his charms.

‘I WAS actually wondering about what you mentioned earlier. When I asked you on this date..remember?’

‘Yea…’ She lifted her legs and crossed them, snuggling herself more comfortable in her nook on the couch, lips blowing over her slowly cooling tea.

‘What did you mean by “we never really dated”?’ Henry quoted the last words with his fingers.

‘Oh!’ She quickly looked away, her hands deciding it was best to put her tea away on the side table on her side of the couch. ‘Yea….’ She looked back at Henry. ‘That’s a funny story..’

‘Mmm?’

‘Okay, okay. So, I’m just curious. How do you think we met?’ Her eyebrows rose in expectation, her body fully turning towards him, legs still crossed before her chest. Henry also turned slightly, his arm stretching out over the back of the couch, his fingertips just about able to reach her knees.

‘Hmm. I’ve actually thought about that. Though of course I don’t know. But ehh..’ He squinted his eyes a little, as if playfully wanting to guess. ‘I think I met you on set.’

‘How’s that?’

‘I don’t know. Just a feeling.’

‘Well. It’s not. Try again.’

‘Okay..Ehm, then I totally met you at the grocery store and hit on you so hard that you thought I was some weird creep?’

She laughed. ‘That has happened. Not with you though.’

‘Shame.’

Phoebe laughed and shook her head. ‘Dork.’

‘OH! A comic book store?! A Comic Con? A..’

‘No, and.. no.’

‘Alright, I don’t know. Spill the beans, wife-dear.’

She shot him an exasperated look, before clicking her tongue. ‘We shagged at an after party.’

Henry’s face blanked. ‘I’m sorry, say that again: AT an after party?’

‘Yea..we definitely did it AT the after party.’

‘Was I drunk?’

Phoebe laughed. ‘Shit Henry. Of course we were. We both were. I wouldn’t for the life of me shag anyone on any party, but there we were, fumbling hands and tearing expensive dress shirts in a toilet stall.’

Henry’s eyes widened at her words.

‘Yea..classy, right? And you left me a little present too.’

‘We’re not talking about just a phone number here, huh?’

‘Nope. You knocked me up with our ray of sunshine, Sam. Funny thing was that I lost my phone that night, and with it your number. I then contacted your assistant, Aunt Lea, whom TOTALLY didn’t believe you’d do anything of the sort, so it took me a good three months to get in contact with you.’

‘Holy crap.’

Phoebe sighed deeply and turned away again, as if wishing to shut out Henry from her thoughts. ‘Yea, it’s been a wild ride.’

‘Wait.’ Henry pushed himself a little closer so he could brush a hand over her shoulder, his eyes searching the curve of her nose and the pull of her lips. ‘Do you regret it? It’s okay if you do. I mean, we’re all out, bums out - besides I can’t remember a thing of the things you just said.’

Phoebe shook her head. ‘No.’ She finally looked back up at Henry, her eyes a lot more warm and welcoming than he had expected. ‘I was already smitten with you before I rang this doorbell to give you the happy news you were about to become a dad...and I’d have kept sweetheart Sam either way the wind would have blown.’

‘Sam..Fixing his dad and all.’ Henry smiled.

‘Gods.’ Phoebe chuckled. ‘That was bad.’

‘Kinda. I’ll need some help with managing that rowdy bunch.’ Henry sighed, feeling Phoebe’s hand reaching out to brush through his curls again - he liked it.

‘I had a good night.’ She said.

Henry looked at her and instantly felt his heart flutter, his stomach dropping and palms going sweaty. It was quite obvious that IF he wanted to make a move, he’d have to do it now. And so, with perhaps a bit too awkward a hastiness, he scooted closer to Phoebe, his black burning eyes staring down into her expecting dark blues.

‘I liked it too. I like YOU..too.’ He breathed, making her eyes also grow darker by the second.

‘Good,’ She whispered, switching her focus between his left and right eye, noses slowly crawling closer to one another until their lips were but a breath away from touching.

‘Can I kiss y..-?’

His words lingered somewhere in between the crashing of their two bodies, Phoebe’s arms eagerly pulling him towards her, her lips savouring the taste of mint tea and musk on his tongue. And as eagerly as they started, so eagerly it to-tal-ly escalated. In moments Henry had flipped her flat onto the couch, his hands scorching the skin on her neck and chest, fingertips teasing and touching whatever piece of flesh her simple black dress revealed.

‘FUCK.’ She whined, turning her head to offer him more neck for him to bite down into.

Henry growled and lowered his hip, making her feel the eagerness he felt in the tightness of his dress pants, the fabric strained around his crotch.

‘Oh gods,’ Her breath hiccuped and were it not for Henry’s attentiveness, he wouldn’t have picked up on the tears that had started to spill from her eyes, his body immediately pushing back up before he wiped the stray hairs in her face away, worried eyes studying her trembling lips and blurry gaze.

‘I-I’m so sorry.’ She mumbled, turning her head into the couch pillow, wishing to hide from his penetrative gaze.

‘No, no. It’s okay. Sshhh.’ He sat up on his haunches and pulled her with ease onto his lap, his chin pressing down onto her head as she cried into the open V of his shirt, his chest hair wetting with her agony - yep he kept it buttoned down. ‘Sshhh.’ He hushed, pressing more and more kisses into her golden hair. ‘I’ve got you.’

‘I’ve missed you so much.’ She whimpered, and it was in that moment Henry hated himself for the way his erection twitched beneath the plush of her thighs, his mind having to focus on anything but her scent and warmth - and failed. Henry failed miserably, Bee’s head starting to shake “no” as she pushed herself off his lap.

‘Fwooo…’ She breathed, focusing on slowing her breath before she looked back at Henry with watery eyes, their bodies separated by the magic of opposing magnetic energy; if Henry tried to come closer, she leaned back and vice versa.

‘Maybe we should give THAT a little more time.’ She chuckled through her tears, the back of her hand wiping away the smudge of mascara that was running down her cheek.

‘I’m sorry about that.’ Henry muttered, feeling like he had failed completely, though thankfully Phoebe could only see the hilarity of it:

‘Guess nothing much has changed in that department.’ She sighed and turned her body back towards him. ‘Is it okay if we sleep apart for a little bit? Just to..-’

‘Calm down?’

‘Yea.’ Her lips curled in a smile.

‘I’m not really used to sleeping with women on the first date anyways.’

Phoebe laughed, poking him in the bicep. ‘OH PLEASE, don’t tell me I was the only one you ever..’

Henry laughed along and shrugged with boyish innocence: ‘Can’t remember, but from what I know, I ...never..’

‘Will you go on another date with me though?’

Henry let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He was pleased with her gentle plea, his hand catching hers to press a sweet and tender promise of a kiss onto the back of her hand. ‘Absolutely.’

That night Henry found himself bunking up with a bed full of stuffies, the bed of his 4-year old the only one he could somewhat fit into.

Turning towards the stuffies, he remembered the notes his wife had given him in the past days: Sam had a stuffy named Mr. Stinky, which he had left behind to watch over his other friends while he was away.

Henry studied the line up of rabbits, elephants, bears and foxes. Which one was Stinky anyways? His wife had said it in between a avalanche of other information, so Henry hadn’t quite managed to catch on like he so wished.

‘Oh..There’s a LOT to learn huh..Mr Stinky? Or ..were you Mr Stinky?’ He looked from stuffy to stuffy, the large beady eyes looking back at him in silence. With a slight smirk on his face Henry pushed his nose into their fluffy bellies, inhaling deeply to find out which one would be Mr. Stinky. But, apparently it was just a name; they all smelled fine.

Rolling onto his back, he switched off the Mario mushroom shaped night light, the ceiling above glowing up with a hundred small stars that had been put up to keep the nightmares at bay.

‘Woa..’ He breathed, feeling his heart flip at the idea that everything about this was real. He had kids. He had..a wife. A family life. And now all he needed to learn was how to fit into his new role. This new ..Henry. And, for the fuck of sakes: if he wasn’t going to jerk off soon, he’d jump his wife before the night was through. It was quite clear how they had never made it to a first date; she simply made his heart and loin ache in a way he had never quite felt before.

Sighing deeply he looked back at the dark row of judgmental beady eyes next to him. He chuckled.

‘Yea...let’s not do that here.’

Chap 5 >

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#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x ofc #memory loss #the accidental family #date night #mild smut #only mild #more like a tiny smidge #but more to come later

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jokerfan99 · 3 years

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My Top 10 Favorite Anime Villains (Updated) by DarkChild316

In a different time and a different world, I did a list of “My 10 Favorite Anime Villains”. I am older now, and hopefully much wiser and now thanks to the global pandemic and my new subscriptions to Hulu and Funimation I’ve had the opportunity to go back and revisit so many classic anime that I feel like I should re-do it. Plus I’ve gone back and looked at my previous list and shook my head thinking to myself: “My God man, what in the f**k were you thinking with some of these choices!” So, I’ve gone back and redone the list, now this list is strictly for the men only. If you want to see a list dedicated to my favorite female villains, check out my list of “My Top 10 Favorite Anime Villainesses.” But for this list, here is my updated list of My Top 10 Favorite Anime Villains:

#10. Shishiho Makoto (Rurouni Kenshin): Growing up as a kid, Ruroni Kenshin was one of the first anime I had ever watched, and this guy was someone who I hated with a passion. Looking back at it years later, I realize now what an amazing villain and foil to Kenshin that Makoto was. Unlike a lot of villains on this list, Makoto wasn’t just evil for the sake of being evil, Makoto’s evil came from the worst type of trauma: betrayal! In this case the betrayal came from Makoto’s own government, where Makoto survived not only multiple gunshots, but being doused in oil and burned alive, leaving him in complete and utter agony. What puts Shishio on my list is what he manages to do after surviving death. He compiles an army of the best fighters Japan has to offer and plots to overthrow the entire Meiji Government. While in complete agony. Who else can claim that? Did I also mention he’s topping the list of the best fighters in the show? His swordsmanship is second only to Kenshin himself as he proves in their absolutely epic fight.

#9. Hisoka Morrow (Hunter x Hunter): Hunter x Hunter is a show with several great villains that truly stand out, and while Meruem was memorable, pardon me for believing that Hisoka was the standout villain from that show. A devious killer and master Nen user, Hisoka is driven by little more than his desire to find and kill strong opponents. Be they young children or master criminals, he’ll pursue them to the ends of the Earth with a bloodlust on par with that of a wild predator. Likewise, he doesn’t care what happens to himself or others in this pursuit. Mass civilian casualties, the loss of his own villainous allies or even the loss of his own limbs barely phases him, so long as he gets to fight with someone that tests his limits. As a result, he more often than not embodies chaos incarnate, wreaking havoc in his pursuit of battle and leaving a mountain of corpses behind him. Needless to say, this puts him at odds with the series’ protagonists at regular intervals. Not only do Gon and his friends fit the bill for what he seeks, but they often take on enemies that prove to be exactly what Hisoka is looking for. And yet, this also serves to make him all the more interesting. Where other villains might strike out at the protagonists and heroes immediately, Hisoka schemes, allies himself with and double-crosses people regularly, always finding the best angle to work in order to reach his goals. He may not be a world-ending anime villain on the level of a Meruem with seismic ambitions, but he’s undeniably the most interesting and brilliant villain in Hunter x Hunter to see at work.

#8. Izaya Orihara (Durarara!!): If you think of a list of top anime villains and this guy isn’t one of the first people who comes to mind, please raise your hands so I can have a few words with you in private with no cameras or eyewitnesses. The crazy thing about Izaya is that he doesn’t even realize he’s evil, and that’s what makes him great. He loves humanity; from the depths of his bones he loves us all. This is why he makes it onto my list; he does progressively more cruel acts against humans, putting people in situations that generally lead to their deaths. He is also a master of parkour and highly skilled with a switchblade in his hand (as evident in the above picture), which he generally only uses in dire situations or fights against Shizuo. In short, I absoulutely love this guy. I thoroughly enjoyed the way he manages to manipulate an entire populous, and that’s why he’s more than earned a spot on my list.

#7. Dio Brando (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure): You might have thought it was someone else, but it was me, Dio! All meme-worthy jokes aside, Dio Brando is unquestionably one of the most iconic anime villains of all time and, thanks to his series’ late-blooming popularity outside of Japan thanks largely to the 2012 anime adaptation, one that still feels modern in our minds. Dio is a tenacious bastard that takes advantage of the generosity of the Joestar family to further his own power, being intolerably dickish to Jonathan by constantly tearing him down, trying to make him look bad in front of his dad, spreading rumors to sully his reputation, and sabotaging his relationships. This escalates into killing his dog (his f***ikg dog of all things!), poisoning and later stabbing his adoptive father (I mean WTF!), and becoming a freakin vampire. Even after decapitation, Dio gets his revenge and sets in motion many of the events of the series, making a formal return in Stardust Crusaders as the main villain once again. With raw ambition taken to the extreme, iconic lines, poses, and outfits, incredible abilities from Aztec mask-induced vampirism and the time-stopping power of The World, Dio’s menacing presence towers over his series and over anime as a whole, which makes him MORE than deserving of a spot on my list.

#6. Light Yagami (Death Note): Yes, he’s a VILLAIN, get over yourselves Light Yagami fanboys! Anyway, there are a number of different adjectives and superlatives that could be used to described the lead character of Death Note: Diabolical, calculating, and determined to make the world in his own image all describe Light who was easily the most clever man in Death Note, as evidenced by the layers upon layers that composed his elaborate plans. Light started out as a good kid, doing well in school and heading to a bright career in police work like his father. But when he gets possession of the death note, he begins a remarkable descent into a disturbing mastermind who becomes judge, jury, and executioner for the entire world. But what truly makes Light's character stand out remains complicated throughout the story. His ultimate goal is to make the world a happier, safer place; a noble but perhaps misguided goal. His idealism and nobility still shine through when he doesn’t have the Death Note. When he temporarily relinquishes ownership of the death note to throw L off his trail, Light loses all memory of the death note and he reverts to his normal personality. His sense of morality returns and he shows more compassion for those around him. He even refuses to use Misa Amane to get information out of her when L asks him to. These qualities help to create a complex character who ends up being a detestable villain, yet you still kind of root for him to come out of this story as a winner. Light’s progression through the series is marked by his sheer brilliance. He's got a calculated and strategic mind that would make the great philosopher Machiavelli jealous, and the power of the death note adds a callousness that makes him free to use people in whatever way necessary to accomplish his goals. It’s highly entertaining to see his intricate plans play out. But Light’s messiah-like ego is just as big as his brain, and that arrogance ultimately leads to his tragic downfall.

#5. The Major (Hellsing): An evil Nazi Scientist, I know everyone is just rolling their eyes right now thinking I’m reaching for the low-hanging fruit for this one, but just hear me out here. While he may seem like an obvious pick for a list like this, The Major’s goals, however, are somehow far more unhinged than what may first appear. Despite being an impassioned orator and uncompromising strategist willing to sacrifice countless soldiers, the Major himself had no especial loyalty or passion for the cause of Millennium. His sole obsession is to plunge the world into an unending conflict to the point of endangering not only the lives of others but also his own. The Major’s leadership of Millennium, his decades espousing the genocidal ideology of fascists, and subsequent war against the Hellsing organization, the Vatican, and the entire world serve only as a pretext to satiate his insatiable bloodlust. The Major is one of anime’s most insidious villains, a charismatic, nihilistic sociopath driven purely by his sadomasochistic death wish.

#4. Shou Tucker (Fullmetal Alchemist): Now, you may be recalling that in my previous version of this list, I had Envy listed as my choice as my favorite villain from this show. Well after careful reconsideration, I’ve had to reevaluate my decision and give that spot to this creep, because while Envy’s actions were despicable to a point, they PALE in comparison to this guy! He only really appears in one episode if I remember correctly, yet in that one single episode, he made more of an impact then most villains make in a lifetime, which really says a lot about this guy’s character. What was it that made him so memorable you ask? Well, it could have something to do with the fact that this man transmutaed his own dog and daughter to create a talking chimera, which hadn’t been done before, and for what other reason…all in the name of recognition in the world of alchemy! That mere fact alone made this guy the most hated man in all of anime, the fact that he sacrificed his own family for the sake of fame, with absolutely no hint of remorse, made this guy the definition of an absolute living piece of shit and the only thing worse is how the episode ended, but I won’t spoil that one for you if you haven’t seen it.

#3. Gendo Ikari (Neon Genesis Evangelion) Up next is a man competing with the likes of Medusa Gorgon for the title of “Anime’s Worst Parent”, Gendo Ikari, please step up to the front of the congregation. Now Gendo is a man who’s list of atrocities throughout Evangelion is far too many to name, but I’m going to try my best to list them here: You have being actively complicit in the premature instigation of a biblical apocalypse, resulting in a near extinction-level event that caused the death of nearly two-thirds of the human population. Emotionally neglecting his own son Shinji estranging himself from him for over twelve years, only to offer him up as a sacrificial pawn in his bid to artificially bootstrap humanity’s ascent into evolutionary godhood so that he could be reunited with his dead wife. Cloning said wife’s DNA into a harem of emotionally dependent albino ingenues who share a dogged infatuation for their creator. And that’s not even mentioning the horrific emotional abuse and mental manipulation he inflicts on Dr. Ritsuko Akagi and her mother Naoko. All-in-all Gendo is proof positive that love not only has the capacity to overcome any obstacle, but sometimes it can truly make monsters out of us all.

#2. Griffith (Berserk): Griffith did nothing wrong; at least, not by his own drives and ambitions. A peasant who grew to become the leader of his own mercenary band, Griffith was a self-driven man who pursued his desires with unparalleled efficiency. No matter the situation or obstacle, he found a way to overcome them, whether that meant facing down an army of thousands or assassinating a country’s leaders. All the while, he amassed a legion of friends and followers who would follow him to hell and back, caring for him as much or more than he cared for them. As a result, they were dragged down with him when his ambitions saw him imprisoned, tortured and maimed. They cared little though, risking life and limb to save him and help him salvage a life with what he had left. That wasn’t enough for Griffith though. When given the option to become a demon and continue the pursuit of his dreams, he whole-heartedly accepted it; even though it came at the cost of sacrificing the lives of each and every one of his friends and allies. But that wasn’t the worst of it, to further spite the early desertion of Guts, Griffith proceeds to rape Casca, Guts’ love interest, in front of him as Guts is held down by demons. So yes, Griffith did nothing wrong by himself. By everyone else though, he did them the worst of injustices, and continues to do so with each breath he takes, all of which makes him a compelling and infuriating villain.

#1. Johan Liebert (Monster): I’ve covered a wide variety of monsters (pun fully intended) on this list, but THIS monster (again, pun FULLY intended) truly takes the cake when it comes to anime villains. A serial killer who would fit in well in any blockbuster film, Monster told the story of a man who had truly become monstrous; a charismatic, intelligent sociopath with no other goal than to kill everyone else in the world. Johan didn't just kill people, he made other people into monsters just like him. This skill of his corruption is first displayed in his youth, when he used stories to convince the other boys in his orphanage to kill all the staff, and each other. Johan is often compared to Light Yagami of Death Note, but the two couldn’t be any more different. Light's fatal (and genius) flaw is his own ego, which leads him to put his own life above all else, even his goal of changing the world. But Johan has never been afraid of death. Quite the opposite, he welcomes and embraces it, being more than willing to put his own life at risk, and one of his signature traits is how he challenges people to shoot him. Another of Jonah’s signature traits is his skills as a masterful manipulator. Where Light and other on this list had to resort to supernatural means to get what they wanted, Johan just used his own wits and knowledge of human nature. He's easily the most frightening villain on this list because he’s the truest to life villain on this list and he exposes the base human nature of his victims and of human society. Monster's remarkable story was almost entirely due to Johan alone, and it’s why he’s #1 on my list.

So that's my updated list, what did you guys think about it? Love it, hated it? Go on and tell me what you think and let me know who your favorite anime villains are. See you soon!!!

Deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/darkchild316

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blitzturtles · 3 years

Text

Title: Tre

Rating: Mature, for implied adult activity (though it isn't detailed.)

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind

Pairing(s): BruAbba

Summary: “Is… Bucciarati avoiding anyone else?” Giorno asks, quiet. Unsure. By the look on his face, it’s something that’s been bothering him for a few days.

Abbacchio looks up with raised brows, “Don’t think so, why?”

Notes: Please note that Bruno experiences quite a bit of gender dysphoria here. It's reflected in his internal dialogue and could be triggering.

Also, missing doses of T doesn't necessarily guarantee the return of someone's period, but Bruno has a whole lotta bad luck, too much stress, and not enough time.

“Is… Bucciarati avoiding anyone else?” Giorno asks, quiet. Unsure. By the look on his face, it’s something that’s been bothering him for a few days.

Abbacchio looks up with raised brows, “Don’t think so, why?”

Giorno frowns. How does he explain that he feels like he’s seeing more glimpses of zippers and Sticky Fingers than the man they belong to? That he feels like every time he turns a corner, Bruno is already leaving? Maybe even fleeing?

“No, no, I think Giogio’s onto something,” Mista cuts in before Giorno can answer.

Abbacchio’s neutral expression shifts to something less sure. His frown reflects Giorno’s, and he seems to lose himself in his thoughts for a moment. He recalls the last several days and tries to replay the interactions in his head.

“I’ll check it out,” he decides, finally. He pushes himself up to his feet and heads out the door before the other two can think up an argument.

“Uh?” Mista looks to Giorno, then the door, and back again.

“I don’t know,” Giorno admits. Something in Abbacchio’s features had only validated his worries.

______ ______

“Bruno,” Abbacchio calls, rapping the back of one hand against their shared bedroom door. He hates to admit it, but the kid is right. Bruno’s been quieter. A bit more aloof, but he isn’t fully avoiding Abbacchio. He knows better than that, which is exactly the problem. The bastard knows just the way to adjust his behavior to avoid suspicion.

The room remains quiet on the other side. No one moves, and the door stays shut. Abbacchio isn’t buying it for a minute.

“Bruno, I’m coming in if you don’t let me in.”

He waits approximately ten more seconds-- no one has ever accused him of being a patient man-- before he digs out his key. The only reason he has it on him at all is because of Bruno’s borderline refusal to use doors. There’s been a time or two where Abbacchio has been locked out because Bruno used his zippers and forgot to flip the lock. It’s not a frequent occurrence, but it’s happened enough to make Abbacchio more diligent about having his copy on his person.

His chest aches with the burning need of oxygen, reminding him to take a breath. He has a vague idea of what might be happening, but he can’t be sure. Can’t know that Bruno isn’t half-dead somewhere beyond the threshold.

One blue eye pops out of a pile of blankets and disappears just as quickly. There’s a quiet groan and possibly a few words, but none of it is audible to Abbacchio.

“Cramps?”

The blankets shift like someone might have whacked them.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Abbacchio says with an undeniably fond tone. He doesn’t take offense to the attempt to shoo him off, but he does feel guilt for not recognizing the signs earlier. To his own credit, it’s been many months, possibly more than a year since last this happened. He’s gotten out of the habit of identifying the warnings. Bruno is a lot like a wounded animal. Unless it’s killing him, he won’t make his pain known (and even that’s up in the air, sometimes. It’s the blood trail that gives him away more often in those cases.)

He bypasses the mass on the bed to slide into the bathroom. He notes the painkillers on the counter and finds some relief in the fact that Bruno at least has those on board. Absently, he brushes his thumb against Bruno’s toothbrush and winces at the dampness of it. That’s one of those things he’s learned from being with Bruno for so long: when his cramps are particularly awful, his stomach crawls its way up his throat. Sometimes more than once, but Bruno being in bed is hopefully a sign that he’s finished with that for now.

With the painkillers taken and his stomach emptied, there’s only one thing that Abbacchio can offer. He crouches down in front of the sink and starts digging through their unholy collection of toiletries and makeup. A not insignificant amount of it is Abbacchio’s, but he finds a crushed box in the back after several frustrating minutes of digging and rearranging.

There’s one left, but it will do. He can bribe the kids to go get him more. Something tells him the reusable is missing in action. Probably tossed after one too many times of someone bleeding on it.

Bruno hasn’t moved since Abbacchio’s break in, and he doesn’t look like he intends to move when Abbacchio makes his way to the bed.

“C’mon. Stretch out for a second,” he holds up the packaging for Bruno to see and gives one of his rare, soft smiles when Bruno unhooks his arms from around himself and uncurls his body.

Abbacchio carefully peels the blankets away to find that Bruno has stolen one of his night shirts and a pair of his shorts.

“Sorry,” Bruno breathes.

The pain in his voice is heartbreaking, and the fact that Bruno thinks Abbacchio gives two shits about a pair of lost shorts (to blood of all things, as if they haven’t both bled on every other thing they’ve ever owned) only makes the ache worse.

“I really can’t emphasize enough how much I don’t care,” Abbacchio says and immediately wishes he had thought his words out, “About the shorts.” He sees the way Bruno tenses for a moment before he relaxes again. He’s on edge. Less sure of himself than he usually is, which means he’s second guessing everything. Even definite truths. And one of those is that Abbacchio would give him anything he asked for without question. A singular set of clothes-- that he knows Bruno will probably replace without his noticing-- mean nothing to him.

“I know,” Bruno admits. His fingers dance at the hem of the shirt. He’s buying time.

Abbacchio doesn’t push him. He waits patiently until Bruno slides the shirt up his belly enough for Abbacchio to place the heating pad. He’s mindful of the dark patch of hair that peeks out from above the shorts. Bruno usually prefers them to be placed higher up anyway, and his belly is relatively hairless.

“There. That’s the last of the peel and sticks, but we can get more,” he reaches to tug the shirt back down but hesitates a moment to press a kiss to Bruno’s hip. He knows that Bruno feels the most dysphoric when he’s bleeding. Sees himself in a way that Abbacchio doesn’t. Being in agony doesn’t exactly help his mental state any.

“I don’t want to be trouble.”

Abbacchio snorts-- if only because the idea of that is so preposterous. “If they knew it was for you, they’d kill each other to get to the store first,” they won’t know. He won’t tell them. They might guess that it’s Bruno that’s out of commission, given his absence, but Bruno isn’t full-time anymore. It’s easy to dismiss his lack of presence as his attention being elsewhere, but Giorno’s made it apparent that he’s noticed. Mista, too.

Bruno might have gotten away with it if he weren’t feeling so poorly. The pain clouds his mind and disrupts the smooth way that he and Sticky Fingers work together. It’s probably why Giorno kept catching glimpses. It’s all Bruno can do to stay upright when the cramps kick in at full swing.

Speaking of, Abbacchio reaches up to gently wipe the tears away from Bruno’s cheeks.

“You can roll back. I’m going to change, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Truthfully, he isn’t changing for his own comfort. Abbacchio has fallen asleep fully dressed more times than he can count, buckle included. He could care less about what he’s wearing, but he knows that Bruno’s nerves are already frayed.

In the time it takes him to switch to his softest night clothes, Bruno has curled back up, facing away from him. Abbacchio takes a moment to shoot off a text before he climbs in behind him. He carefully scoots his body as close to Bruno’s as he can without putting any pressure against him. Bruno uncurls enough to lean a fraction of his weight back into him, and Abbacchio counts that as a win.

Abbacchio reaches up to undo the clips in Bruno’s hair. The braid needs to come out, too, but he doesn’t have the angle he needs to work on it. He settles for petting along Bruno’s arm, a slow drag of his calloused fingers from wrist to shoulder. His nails drag lightly against tanned skin. It’s all about distracting without being overwhelming.

“I missed three,” Bruno says eventually.

“Three? Oh,” well, that explains it. Bruno’s had problems with his cycle coming through in the past. It’s the reason he switched to shots in the first place, and he’s suspected his dose has been too low for a while. The problem is that his own health and wellbeing always comes last. He doesn’t pursue the doctors the way he could; he’s always too busy taking care of everyone else at his own detriment. Sometimes Abbacchio thinks Bruno does it as self-flagellation, but he feels like a hypocrite if he points it out.

The dysphoria creates something of a feedback loop. It’s the one aspect of himself that Bruno struggles with the most. He can typically climb his way out of his cycles of grief. The flashbacks are generally ignored. It’s amazing, Abbacchio thinks, that he ever sleeps at all. There’s enough trauma and stress there to last several people their entire lives. Bruno ignores it all, but he can’t ignore this.

Abbacchio carefully drapes his arm around Bruno and presses his face against the back of his neck. “I love you,” he says, the words pressed against Bruno’s nape.

There’s a wounded sound from Bruno, and he curls up tighter.

Abbacchio moves with him. Careful, but without hesitation. “I love you no matter what, in any way that you’ll have me. I will follow you to the end, and I will give you all that I have.” He can’t refute the words playing in Bruno’s head, but he can make sure he knows that he’s loved. “None of us would have made it without you.”

“That’s not-”

“Shut up,” Abbacchio’s tone is far from harsh, but Bruno does as he’s told, “Fugo might have stayed out of legal trouble, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be dead from pissing off the wrong person. Narancia would have died of an infection. You said it yourself, Narancia was on death’s door when Fugo brought him to you. Mista wouldn’t have survived jail,” another one of Bruno’s assessments that was exactly on point, “Giorno would have probably gotten himself killed trying to take out the boss by himself, and Trish would be dead if you hadn’t killed yourself to save her.” Being revived after doesn’t change the fact that Bruno had died in the first place, “And I would be passed out drunk. Maybe dead.”

Silence settles over them for a long few minutes. Bruno only occasionally tensing and squirming from pain. The over-the-counter stuff barely touches the cramps, but he won’t take anything else. At least the heating pads seem to help some.

“Thank you,” Bruno says eventually.

“Sure,” Abbacchio presses a kiss to soft skin, “I’m always available to grind the truth into that thick skull of your’s.”

Bruno huffs in response, but his hands find Abbacchio’s arm. He curls his fingers around pale skin and finds himself admiring the muscle underneath. Neither of them are particularly built, but Abbacchio has the thicker, wider frame that Bruno had longed for for so many years. It’s odd to remember when they first met, when Abbacchio had a bit more muscle. Bruno’s own body had been a hated thing. Something he used to wish he could shed with curves he could see if he looked for them.

Sometimes he wonders which of their memories are distorted. Abbacchio’s, from the alcohol and the depression and not actually knowing better. Or Bruno’s, from the self-hatred and the dysphoria and the abuse inflicted on him.

He can still remember the first time they managed to lock themselves in the bathroom, all hands and teeth, and Leone-- god help him-- had been surprised.

It had been the first time they made it past making out like teenagers, and Leone had stared up at him from his spot on his knees with big, gold-violet eyes. Confused and at an obvious loss. Bruno can still remember the way his stomach turned as reality kicked in, and he had realized the significant misstep on his part. He had thought, with his waist and the scars on his chest and the width of his shoulders, that it had been obvious. Had thought himself lucky that Leone still wanted him.

”Tell me what to do,” Leone had demanded, all determination and enthusiasm.

Bruno almost laughs at the memory. It’s not funny, really, but he can remember the overwhelming endearment he had felt. Still feels. That’s the thing that Leone can’t accept. Can’t understand about himself: all that he does for Bruno. All the ways he makes Bruno a better man. He can’t imagine doing this on his own. He’ll have to find a way to better show his appreciation when his insides aren’t threatening to tear him apart.

“I love you,” he says, squeezing Leone’s arm.

“I love you, too.”

#bruabba #bruno buccellati #bruno bucciarati #leone abbacchio #golden wind #vento aureo #jjba part 5 #jojo's bizzare adventure #blitzwrites #blitz

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lycanthrology · 2 years

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my head is SO full thinking about how self sacrificing marc is and it makes me so angry when people interpret the moments when khonshu forsakes him for another host and he gets angry and demands him to come back as jealousy. he is not jealous

he does not want khons back he didnt want him there in the first place (and i have so many thoughts on that one too) BUT he understands that by taking on the role of the fist of khonshu, he’s stopping khons from hurting anyone else the way he hurts him.

marc knows how much pain and misery and agony (i headcanon marc as someone living with severe chronic pain due to the resurrections because yes he cant die as long as khons favours him but also he only heals like a normal human so his body is constantly going through more physical trauma than it should be able to survive but that’s something i could talk about for ages) it causes and he’s choosing the heroic/stupid thing to do by bearing the burden himself and doing what’s asked of him to keep khons happy so nobody else gets caught up in it all and gets their life ruined.

yeah he does seem kind of jealous and self-centred in the moment but he’s often shown trying to convince people to kick khons out with sincere concern. he’s willing to put up with all of khons shit and the toll it takes on his mind and body to keep other vulnerable people safe. hashtag martyr i love him a lot ok. (this is pretty dependent on you believing khonshu is a real exterior force but i have things i believe either way) its 2:40 am i might be talking the biggest load of shit out here

#isaac.pdf #mk

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qwertyfingers · 3 years

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faith healer, come lay your hands on me

here’s a snippet from the self indulgent traumatism (trauma and autism) fic if anyone wants to read it lol. Sam and Cas love to have have problems in the middle of the night. Gen, 2k words, warning for discussions of food scarcity and calming someone down from a panic attack, nothing graphic though. Set in a nebulous late-seasons time period because I respect canon literally not at all.

It’s the middle of the night, sometime between Dean’s custom of falling asleep on his keyboard and Sam shepherding them both to bed, but before his nightly waking up from a nightmare to wander around the bunker checking the wards. Cas is in the kitchen wiping away mostly-imaginary detritus from the counters when Sam finds him; wild-eyed and looking frayed at the seams. He nods at Cas, but nothing follows it. He just stands there in the centre of the room shaking slightly. His eye sockets look like bruises.

Cas tilts his head and squints, considering, “Are you alright, Sam?”

Sam startles in a big way. Huffs breaths in and out of his nose, forehead crinkling with the effort. “What? I. yeah I’m- I’m fine.” He pauses for a few seconds though, hands twisting at the edges of his shirt like they do when he’s worrying. He makes several aborted attempts to keep talking, each less successful than the last. Kicks gently at a table leg and scowls to himself. “It is fine it’s just...” but he doesn’t continue, just starts gesturing with his hands, like he’s run out of words.

Cas turns back to his cleaning, watches Sam filter through all of his most common nervous gestures in the edges of his vision, seemingly not comforted by any of them. He clenches his hands, drags them over his jaw and face, tugs his hair through his fingers roughly. He bounces, frenetic, from foot to foot, socked feet making muffled tapping noises on the hard floor. Says nothing for a long time.

Cas doesn’t sleep much, so he measures his nighttimes in completed tasks rather than minutes and hours. He gets through wiping the surfaces, cleaning out the sink, and setting the dishwasher to its self-clean cycle, before he hears anything from Sam.

When he does finally speak, the words seem to burst out of him all at once, quiet but tense and all in a rush — pressured speech it was called, in the books Cas had been reading. He figured at least one person in the bunker should know about trauma’s effects, and twelve years’ experience had taught him it wouldn’t be the Winchesters.

“You know, when Dean and me were kids we- we didn’t always have a lot to eat. A lot of the time we didn’t have enough to eat. And Dean would… Dean would always feed me first.” He stops and takes a heaving breath, then three, hands clenching and unclenching arhythmically in front of him. They’re hovering just above the kitchen counter without touching, arms held awkwardly aloft like he doesn’t know where to put them. He’s curled forward, and down, head and shoulders hunched in. He looks pained.

The instinct to make oneself small learned from a childhood desperately trying to hide from the reality of his own life. Cas has long since chased away the instinct to get angry about their life before he knew them, but he never stops feeling the sadness of it. There is a deep well of agony that will never be truly told.

“The portions were already so small and he’d- he’d do this thing where he’d, like, eat half his meal and pretend to be full so he could pass the rest on to me. Never took no for an answer. And of course at first I was too young to notice what he was really doing, but then I was twelve, thirteen, and he’d still feed me like I was-” Sam winces, coughs out a small laugh, grimaces, drags his left hand over his face. “God, like I was his son. His ‘baby boy’ he used to say. And he was so thin for so long and-” Sam stops himself here, looking winded. He taps the fridge door sixteen times with his right hand as he bites at his left thumbnail.

“And obviously we were both fine in the end, Dean’s big and he’s tough but. Sometimes I get this-” he interrupts himself to tug his hands through his hair, sharp, “god it sounds so stupid but I get this thought that. That if Dean hadn’t had to feed me he’d be as tall as I am now and I get all. Normally it’s fine and I just laugh it off because it’s so ridiculous it is a ridiculous thought.” There’s a wet catch in Sam’s throat, and he’s looking at Cas like he can’t tell if he’s about to laugh or cry.

Cas nods slowly, feeling sombre. “Dean is six feet and three quarter inches tall. He is hardly a small man, Sam.” He tries a small smile, to be encouraging, in-on-the-joke but not poking fun, but he can still never tell if he’s hitting the mark or not. A face has so many muscles, and only so much conscious control over them.

Sam surprises him by laughing and crying at the same time. “He’s six feet tall, and he’s one of the strongest humans I’ve ever met — despite being completely allergic to the concept of exercise and I hate him,” he rants, a hint of panic tingeing his voice purple, “so fucking much, and I’m so tired of his bullshit, and yet sometimes I startle awake at night in a panic convinced that I deprived him of his “true height” by having the audacity to be hungry.” The air quotes are a little twitchy, but the attempt to be funny is probably a good sign. Hopefully. Sam’s less prone to sarcasm as a cover for soul-crushing misery than his brother.

Sam starts rearranging the sauce bottles scattered by the stove, hands jerky with the motion. Cas notes in the back of his mind to put them back in place once Sam calms down — Dean needs the kitchen just so. He’s been prone to his own late night trips down memory lane, lately, and he doesn’t need the added stress of obsessive compulsive cleaning on top of it all.

“I told you it was stupid, Cas,” he splutters, and he’s fully crying now, teetering on the edge of hysterical. “Christ, I feel like such an infant.”

Done with the cleaning, Cas folds his cloth into a neat rectangle, hangs it carefully through the loop of the oven door handle as he passes by. He picks up a clean cloth from the pile in the cupboard below the sink too. He heads towards Sam, movements slow and careful to give him a chance to back away — Sam’s liable to startle like a rabbit even on his best days. Cas has been trying his hardest not to trigger it; the ‘fight/flight/freeze instinct’ as he’d learned. It’s helped him understand a lot of Sam and Dean’s reaction better. He only wishes he’d known about it sooner.

He presses his hand gently to the outside of Sam’s elbow, looks him in the eyes and holds his gaze steady. “It’s not foolish, Sam. But surely, your childhood was full of enough tragedy, that you needn’t add to it.”

Sam’s breathing is heavy and ragged, and his eyes are darting between Cas, and the walls, and the condiments he’s still twitching across the counter. He stops, breathes deep, tugs his long sleeves down over his hands and dabs at his wet face. He huffs a laugh between bouts of sobs, mutters something that sounds like “Yeah, yeah, doesn’t help me stop thinking it though,” but Cas can’t be entirely sure, because Sam’s speaking into his shirt cuffs with hands clamped tight over his mouth.

Cas moves his hand slowly from Sam’s elbow to his shoulder, leans in slow to bring his other arm around Sam’s back and hold him loose to his chest. Sam gasps loudly and sobs, wet, shoves his face into the front of Cas’ shoulder indelicately as he responds with his own arms. He clutches at the back of Cas’ coat and weeps, done with trying to hold it all in. He’s shaking less now, but it’s impossible to know whether it’s progress or if he’s turning further inward without seeing his face.

Cas pulls him closer and moves the hand on his back upwards, rubs it in slow, careful circles across his shoulder blades. Pressure is good, he’d read, especially with flashbacks. Pressure grounds you in the present; a small, physical beacon of something that’s unquestionably real. He’s not sure if Sam notices or appreciates it, but he’s not going to ask; doesn’t want to run the risk of making their home feel clinical.

It seems like the kind of crying where speaking wouldn’t help, so he lets it run its course. He keeps up the pressure at Sam’s back, and takes his palm to pet at Sam’s hair, something he’d seen Dean do so many times. Sam seems to jump at first, coughing once into Cas’ sodden shirt, but doesn’t move or ask him to stop, so after a long moment of awkwardly holding his hand still on top of his head he strokes his fingers out, and Sam sighs on the end of a gurgle.

Cas hears words now and then, ‘stupid’s and ‘christ’s and once, bafflingly, ‘fucking lucky charms’, but for the most part Sam seems content to simply cry until he stops. It’s not a quick thing. The air stills around them as Sam calms, gentled down from wracking gasps to sniffling tears, to simple heavy breaths.

Extricating himself is a clumsy affair even for Sam. His arms seem to catch, held in that clutching shape by the tension of the moment, and he has to slowly roll all of his joints loose. He unfurls slowly, like a flower in sunlight, until he stands back at full height. He does look brighter, now, and he carries the crackle of something almost like grace in him, Cas thinks. Peace always shines out of a person.

He grasps Cas’ upper arm for a moment, takes the offered cloth to dry his face before handing it back to Cas and gesturing at the front of his shirt. From the wry, wrinkled-nose smile he throws him as he steps away, Cas thinks he’s also realised the shirt is already a lost cause, but Cas pats himself down anyway, something to occupy his hands for a moment.

Sam leans back briefly to rest against the counter, then gets a different idea and twists around toward the cupboards. He takes out three cups, some chamomile tea, fills the kettle up to the line drawn on the side in red sharpie. “Thanks, Cas,” he whispers with his head in a cupboard, ears tinting red. “I - heh - think I needed that.” He huffs a laugh again, some genuine mirth in it now. “Sorry about your shirt.”

“It’s quite alright. How are you feeling?” Cas can feel himself gazing a little too intensely, watching for Sam’s reactions, but he’s not worried. They know eachother well enough now that Cas can predict what would happen if it got too much; Sam would tell him knock it out, would you, would punch him lightly on the upper arm. He’d most likely try to crack a joke that would land flat, because Sam and Cas have never understood eachother’s humour very well, even when Sam isn’t sleep deprived and beginning to fade at the edges. Cas would apologise and start cleaning again just to keep out of his way. Out of his hair, as Dean would say. These are familiar dances.

Cas also knows he’s not likely to do it though, that Sam is used to his staring. And then he’s blindsided by another thought — that Sam is used to him. His presence and his quirks and his whims. Cas feels himself smile at that, warm, knowing that it’s true. They’re standing in the kitchen, in their home, and Sam just got snot all over his shirt — the shirt he’ll have to wash, manually, and iron, because he’s not really an angel anymore, doesn’t have the grace to maintain his signature look without effort anymore. The shirt that he’ll still choose to put on each morning when he could choose something simpler — because he trusts Cas enough to subject him to his 3am childhood trauma meltdowns. Cas is a human, with inexorably fallible human hands, and Sam is willing to hand him his heart in the quiet hours of the morning for a little field surgery. Cas almost thinks he feels a little sick.

#spn fic #mine #spn #cptsd manifesto #blank tag to keep out of searches #sam winchester #castiel

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vtforpedro · 3 years

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LONG POST, medical update. ptsd, suicide TW: I’m really tired. I feel like I’ve been saying that for a year but I am exhausted. mind, body and soul exhausted my head got better after I lost the water weight my chemo pill was packing on (I was 15lbs lighter than the three weeks previously. so it was pretty bad lol) but now it’s getting bad again. it never gets to the point of relief, but it gets manageable and now it’s becoming unmanageable again. it’s not water weight but it might be cause I’ve put on a couple pounds over the holidays (just barely a couple pounds, I’m eating much lighter in general) anyway I don’t see the point of being scared to name what it is my neurosurgeon and I believe this is anymore. my psychiatrist thinks it makes sense, my pcp, even the ER doctor I saw on dec. 2nd lol but I am 99.9% sure this is what I have and it does makes sense but every fucking time I think about it for a while it makes me so angry. so so so angry y’all. I wish I could sit every single medical professional I interacted with over the last year or so who didn’t believe me and tell them it’s all been real, they failed me to such a degree I have ptsd and anger problems that I’m going to need therapy for, and tell them to learn how to be better providers. blegh so I saw my neurosurgeon (one of the best in the country) for the first time in april. his thoughts? anxiety with muscle tension in my back and neck that led to tension in my head. as in the muscles around my bones, not inside of my skull. didn’t listen to me or believe me, thought all my crazy symptoms were just anxiety and possibly the chiari malformation but there’s no treatment for that beyond surgery and mine is so mild no one wants to go that route (me most of all lmao) I put off seeing him again because I saw different neurologists and my PCP over the months who basically all said the same thing. like my PCP believed me and gave me referrals to the neuros, but one told me to ‘stop worrying about this and just enjoy life’ and the other sat with me for an hour, the first half of which she was all on board the ‘anxiety is fucking with you, none of this is real’ train until I had to tell her to LISTEN TO MY SYMPTOMS firmly enough that she did. she went the opposite way then and said yeah ok something ‘mechanical’ is happening, you need to go back to a neurosurgeon. turned out she loves the neurosurgeon I saw in april (worship the ground he walks on, were her words) but told me maybe I still needed a second opinion. she did also mention that I’ve been living with this for so long that I’m ‘married to it now’ which still implies I’m making it worse than it actually is but :) whatever, she couldn’t think of what it could be decided to just go back to that neurosurgeon and tell him the physical therapy he prescribed in april I had to stop because it made things worse. his PA tried to prescribe me more PT on the phone before I firmly told her I needed to SPEAK with him face to face because my quality of life is gone, because I get close to killing myself weekly because of how bad this is and nothing has improved since april. only gotten worse. so I had my appt with him in late October I think? I explained all of my symptoms (again) and told him how nothing has changed, things have gotten worse, when I do x y z I have an episode, etc etc. he said he still doesn’t think it’s the chiari but he said it *might* be IIH idiopathic intracranial hypertension first time I’ve ever heard of it and even though it was over 11 months into this, it might just save my life now that I have idiopathic = we don’t fucking know why this happens, intracranial = HAPPENING IN MY SKULL AND BRAIN, hypertension = technically high blood pressure, but for here just high pressure cause my BP is good it is rare, it is unknown why people get it and why others don’t, it is most common in women of child bearing age who are obese. the thought is that the weight on the body causes the brain to very slightly inflate, decreasing spinal fluid flow and increasing pressure in the brain, sometimes CAUSING a chiari malformation to appear, which can cause other symptoms on top of IIH it used to be called pseudotumor cerebri because IIH makes the brain behave like it has a tumor while no tumor is actually present (which means normal MRI/CT scans and the main reason everyone told me I was faking it) I gained 80lbs in less than two years due to severe depression and ptsd. I’ve been at the same weight for almost two years now and was at that weight in Feb 2019 before things started happening in Dec 2019. sometimes it does just come on one day. it can be chronic, it can randomly go into remission and come back, and they have no idea why it even happens. it’s rare enough that no neurologist I saw could even think of it. rare enough that one of the best neurosurgeons in the country didn’t think of it until he decided he believed me lol he leans even more heavily into this because I gained weight so quickly (one of the hallmarks of getting IIH) and I had not a single symptom like it before the weight gain I don’t trust anything or anyone right now and I am extremely pessimistic and have no hope. but the one thing that’s given me a little hope, that’s made me believe this is what I have, is the fucking wikipedia page on IIH. it lists one specific symptom that I’ve seen nowhere else (and is EXTREMELY specific lmao) that I have and that everyone thought I was crazy explaining. beyond destroying your quality of life, the one thing IIH can do is cause permanent blindness. I’ve had a fuck ton of problems with my vision since this all started happening. one of the worst is that if I’m in the middle of an episode and I look up or to the left, it makes it h u r t and makes the episode worse. which is on the wikipedia page! which explains why I couldn’t fucking do EMDR therapy which involves rapid eye movement from side to side :) :) :) even my therapist was thinking this was all in my head and I was just letting my anxiety tell me EMDR would send my head into an episode instead of it actually happening lmaaaao god I am so angry y’all my mom and my uncle The Doctor wanted to commit me in March/April. I had an entire ER nurses station mock me for ten minutes for coming in repeatedly and having bizarre symptoms that, because they were unexplained, they thought I was faking. they belittled me when talking to me. one put the tv remote (no tv in the room) instead of the call button in my hand when I was too out of it to notice. the ER doctor that day told me I was making up a story, none of this was real, and to continue seeing my psychiatrist. I went home that day, told my mom I was fine for her to go back to work (she was angry with me and wanted me to go to a psychiatric hospital), took a shower and planned on swallowing a bottle of pills. I was in agony, utter agony, every single day multiple times a day I thought I was going to die, and it was being made clear to me that no one, not even my mom, believed me. I told my best friend and she talked me out of it, but I came very close and I will forever be heartbroken and angry beyond belief about this (my mom came around not long after this after seeing that this wasn’t going away and has thoroughly apologized for wanting to commit me. she has been helping me every single day since this started even tho she thought it was anxiety. I’m angry but I don’t hold it against her, not after the incredible sacrifices she’s made for me for a year) so yeah. every bizarre symptom, every agonizing thing I go through, the weird discomfort, pain and burning, vision problems, etc etc, all explained by IIH. the very specific ‘looking in a certain direction makes it worse’ has been there since day one. it’s because pressure has increased on the nerve behind my eyes so looking in a certain way aggravates the affected nerve further gaining all that water weight and having my head get so so so severe, enough to send me to the ER again, made me also think this was a real possibility and the ER doc agreed that the fluid retention was making pressure in my brain even more severe and it did ease quite a lot once that was all gone, another reason I believe this is IIH if you read up on IIH or read stories by people with it, it is life altering, debilitating, and agonizing to live with. most people will also have the same story of doctors not believing them and saying it was anxiety before getting this diagnosis the good thing? there’s a cure and while some people may need additional help later on, it works for most people. and it is, very simply, losing weight. 10-20% of body weight (some places say relief can start at just 3%) seems to completely cure it for most people because the brain is no longer inflated and because of that, any chiari malformation (cerebral tonsils sitting in the spinal cord opening) will actually go away, because it makes room in the skull for the tonsils to go back to their normal place I have some trouble knowing that I am partially at fault for gaining weight like I did, but my mom keeps telling me it’s so rare and how could I have possibly known and it was after severe trauma so. trying to deal with that too lol but yeah! weight loss journey. my chemo pill, if you read my last update, completely fucked me up for a while (including the fuckin weight gain despite a low calorie, low fat diet since like nov 1st) so it’s made it hard to lose weight. but now that I’m off of that pill, I’m down 7lbs and I will continue to lose. I have never been more motivated in my life to lose weight lmao and I’ve successfully done it before! I can’t exercise but my neurosurgeon said as the weight comes off and my symptoms start getting better, I will probably be able to incorporate more movement in my life. I can’t even walk around my apt for too long right now cause it builds pressure in my brain. it fucking sucks because this is something they don’t understand, it’s really only diagnosed if everything else has been ruled out (and with a lumbar puncture, but I am too fucking traumatized to have that done. but if I showed high pressure with no reason for it, it would be an ‘official’ IIH diagnosis). but I’m choosing not to do the LP because if I start to have my symptoms relieved as I lose weight, it’s pretty obvious that’s what this has been from the start my brain thinks it has a brain tumor and is going absolutely batshit insane and no matter how much I tried to get people to believe me, it took 11 months to get there. I will carry this with me for the rest of my life and once covid eases, I’m finding a good trauma therapist and working through this if my symptoms DON’T ease, we’ll talk brain surgery. but I think this is what I have and I think I’ll be okay when I lose enough weight (and I’ll feel better all around lol) anyway I’ve had an extremely bad couple of months and I wanted to get this off my chest, sorry it’s so long. if you can please, please, please cross your fingers for me and wish me luck that this is what it is and that over the next handful of months I lose the weight and get my life back, I will appreciate it more than I can say I’m going to thank all of you ahead of time because I lack spoons to reply right now and I also want to thank you all for your support over this last year and never doubting me. for always offering me words of encouragement and for being angry on my behalf. thank you thank you thank you I love you all <3

#personal #medical #health update #tw suicide #long post

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

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Ok but what if Chris is with Jake at like,, a store or in public or something and they run into Joanne and Chris just,,,, doesn’t recognize her. At all. And then it kinda clicks —(that she’s a terrible person)— that something is wrong

CW: PTSD/flashback response, trauma recovery, negative stimming including head banging

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxckfxck, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions

Icing-coated animal crackers. That iced coffee that comes in the big bottle with the red label - not the green one, it has to be the red one. It’s a good color of red and the iced coffee inside is sweet, just a little. They’re buy-one-get-one in the store and Jake throws six of them in the cart, why the fuck not. Those little cups of macaroni-and-cheese with the neon-colored orange sauce that comes out of a packet. Whole boxes of ramen packets, beef and something called ‘chili lime shrimp’.

Milk, apple juice, coffee creamer (cinnamon sugar and egg nog, Jake never misses a chance for eggnog creamer when it shows up in November). Three whole frozen turkeys, they’re down to rock-bottom prices leading up to Thanksgiving and he can keep them frozen to use whenever they need a week’s worth of meat at once. Stuff for taco night, for pizza night, beer, bell peppers and cilantro, some anchovies for some kind of pasta thing Antoni insists on doing, sliced black olives... the list goes on and on and on.

Jake never minds. Grocery shopping is kind of... meditative, really. Chris bops alongside him, darting ahead to grab something he spotted and toss it in the cart, lingering back behind Jake to look at the label on a bottle of sparkling water, eyes carefully unfocused so he won’t try to read it, just enjoying the little painted image of grapes.

The grocery store’s way out of the way for them, but Jake borrowed Nat’s truck today so he could take Chris to see a museum exhibit on the Spanish flu and its effect on lower-class and first-generation immigrant populations, a little bit of credit for one of his public health classes. Chris loved the museum the way that little kids love museums, all wide-eyed wonder and getting lost in exhibits until Jake had to all but drag him to the next one.

They’d stayed in the museum for four hours - seen things, had lunch, gone back to see more - and Jake really, really needs to get the groceries before he comes home. Hence, kind of a hoity-toity grocery store outside their usual neighborhoods. The kind of place where they might actually raise an eyebrow at him if they knew why he bought three frozen turkeys, that it will save them next month when money’s at its tightest.

Jake knows how to buy for poverty, and he doesn’t actually have to do that anymore, but the habit’s still there.

Chris has been such a constant blur of motion that Jake nearly runs into him with the almost-totally-full cart before he realizes that Chris is standing perfectly still staring over at the wine area.

It’s one of those stores, too - the wine is all shelved in custom-made stained wood to make it look like a small fancy wine store all its own, with a table where a man in a green apron is giving out samples of wine from a valley in Italy Jake doesn’t care about. There’s a woman sipping one of the samples and it’s her that Chris is staring at.

She has short dark brown hair cut into a stylish bob and she’s wearing a sweater that probably cost as much as one of Jake’s student loan payments, nice dark slacks. Looks like she’s come straight from work or something. There’s nothing special about her whatsoever, from Jake’s perspective.

“Chris?”

Chris jumps, spinning around, blinking at Jake. There’s a look around his eyes, like a panicking animal feeling a trap close around it, that makes Jake tense up immediately too. “Um, what?”

“... you okay, man? You look... spooked. Do you know her?”

Chris blinks and looks back at the woman. She chooses a bottle out of a little fake basket several are nestled into with cheese and fruit like it’s a fucking picnic at the fucking grocery store. As if she can feel the eyes on her, she looks up - and meets Chris’s gaze.

There’s a pause, where Jake could absolutely swear the woman knows who Chris is - and then she looks away with a blank expression like she hasn’t seen anything. It’s weirdly fake, though. Put on, like a trick. She turns and walks quickly in the other direction, shoulders slightly hunched. Jake stares after her as she sets the wine bottle down on a shelf and hurries right out the door.

“What the... fuck?”

“I think...” Chris winces, puts a hand up to his head, grinds his teeth against the headache Jake can see, the thunderclap of pain he gets as his reward for trying to locate a memory. “I th-think she, she, she... she she... worked... there...”

Jake’s knuckles go white on the shopping cart handle as he watches the dark-haired bob disappear out into the parking lot. The woman is nearly running. “The, um. The...”

“F-Facility.” Chris’s face is pale, unsettled. He hunches into himself and Jake feels the tension around him as Chris starts to fiddle with a bracelet he wears on his left wrist all the time now, pulling the nylon rope it’s made of, twisting the little metal bits in it, rubbing it in circles around his wrist. At the same time, he starts to rock, back and forth, just a little on his feet. “I think she-she worked there, I was... I was... tired...”

Jake looks slowly down at the cart full of food, closes his eyes. Shit. They’ve been in this store forever getting everything they’ll need for weeks. They’re not going to find such big turkeys at such a good price at the dinky stores closer to home. It’s all going to be such a mess and a waste and...

Chris’s face is pinched and pale, his eyes squinting through the pain that must be rocketing around inside his head. Jake takes a deep breath, lets it out. “She, she, she-she-she... I know-... I was really-... really tired, something... tired and, and, and... and... and and there were handlers and I kept asking-...”

Jake grabs the first person in a green apron with a nametag he sees and apologizes for the food waste, gives them back the cart, and takes Chris by an arm around his shoulders to help lead him out the door. Chris’s eyes are nearly screwed shut completely at the agony, fighting through it. He can’t see to walk and Jake has to hold him tightly, aware that they look more like some creepy dick and his teenage boyfriend than what they actually are.

Makes him wonder what the lady who apparently works at WRU thought when she saw Chris with Jake.

By the time Jake gets him to the truck Chris is shaking all over, and Jake just stands with his back against the hot metal frame and pulls Chris to him, holding him while Chris rocks hard in his arms, twists fingers into his shirt, taps against him, makes strange low moaning sounds that seem nearly inhuman and also incredibly full of very human grief.

Jake gets him into the truck and waits, holding him, while he clings and cries and shakes and rocks and hits himself and rages against memories he isn’t allowed to have any longer.

Memories he cannot give words to. Thoughts he isn’t allowed to have. He can’t verbalize any of them, only sob. Jake doesn’t try to force him, just puts a hand behind his head to direct it into the crook of his neck, let Chris bury himself in darkness to protect against the way, in moments like this, he fears the light.

By the time Jake gets him calmed down, he can’t remember why he recognized the woman anymore. Can’t even describe her to Jake, only two hours after he’d seen her. He can’t remember anything about the grocery trip past the bread aisle, it’s been pushed under the surface where all the painful things go.

At some point, while they’re on the highway, Chris admits he can’t remember the grocery store at all now.

Jake gets Chris home and settled and goes out to get the groceries all over again from one of the local spots, and he can’t stop wondering if that woman shops at the fancy store regularly.

He can’t stop wondering if, having seen Chris there exactly once and with that look on her face when she did, she’ll avoid it from here on out just to ensure she never sees Chris again.

#whump #trauma recovery #flashback tw #ptsd tw #memory loss #conditioning #conditioned whumpee #box boy #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #chris the strawberry blond romantic #jake the shelter guy #escaped whumpee #recovering whumpee #trauma recovery whump #recovery whump

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cordonia · 4 years

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Ethan + MC: “PUSHING DAISIES” AU: P1

Summary: Ethan Ramsey has gift that goes beyond his medical experience. With a single touch he can revive the dead for one minute before consequences take place. It’s handy, for his position at the hospital in a small town called Delarosa where crime is suddenly on the rise. Except it’s dangerous when he has the chance to revive the last girl he ever loved. Because nothing is for free.

Warnings: This is less lighthearted than the show. Death, mention of physical attack and injuries. Also Pushing Daisies (2007-2009) is one of the best shows ever so this is your warning to watch it.

Word Count: 1550

Ethan Ramsey was thirty-seven years, twenty weeks, four days and fifteen minutes old. He was unlike most of the people who inhabited the small town he had lived in all of his life. At a very young age he had learned more about the balance of the universe than anyone he had ever met. He had suffered because of the ignorance around him, but it meant that he could stay, possibly forever.

Perhaps it also meant that he could not leave, the risk too great to expose to a greater audience than the regulars in his life. Thinking about it that way only made him feel trapped.

There were only two people who knew of his capabilities, one being June Hirata who was the director of Diagnostic Medicine until two years prior when the program had shut down. Believe it or not, there was little need for a diagnostic team when there were fewer than ten thousand people in their hometown. Ethan was moved to head of Trauma and June was head of Neurology, and while those titles sounded exciting, they were both too good for the very small hospital.

A lot had happened in the past two years, including Mariana Valentine leaving their hometown. Leaving him.

“Call it.” June’s tone was firm, and the resident who followed her around like a puppy hesitantly exited the room. Ethan stood still, his whole body attuned to only one person in the room. He couldn’t look away.

Mariana wasn’t supposed to be here. She shouldn’t have been lying on the gurney, head trauma severe enough that the resident had almost thrown up. One good blow with a weapon and she was gone within two hours. This was not how he was supposed to remember her, the last memory he would ever have.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Go grab some coffee, Ethan. I’ll finish everything here.”

This was not an offer she would make under any other circumstance, she only ever volunteered her puppy. Lahela, to name him, something that Ethan should have gotten better at doing. There were many things he was supposed to do and change. There always felt like there would be more time.

Mariana was an unexpected threat to his perception of reality. There was always time, until there wasn’t.

“Leave, Ethan.” That was a warning.

“Why is she here?” His voice didn’t waver, but his legs threatened to falter. Something seemed fitting about falling to his knees, but for what purpose? He did not need to pray when what he dreamed of asking for was woven into the tips of his fingers.

“Don’t pretend like I would know. She was attacked on Mirani Drive, that’s all that they got out of Aveiro before he was called off again. The police will probably come in to question her, I’ll let them know she didn’t make it.”

“She was only a street away from her parents house.”

He could feel June’s stare burn through him, but he still couldn’t look away. He took a step closer to the bed and reached out--

“Ethan, I did not sign up for what happens when you watch her die again.”

His gaze snapped to Dr. Hirata and she took a deep breath when she saw his expression. She was always stubborn, and exceptional at whatever job she had in front of her. But she was not God. And in that moment, it would take absolute proof of a higher power forbidding him one touch, to stop him.

“Why doesn’t she deserve justice, just like the others?”

Dr. Hirata shook her head slowly, sighing. “You don’t know the others like you know her. I know that she was your best friend once, and you know that one minute will never be enough!”

One touch, anywhere upon her skin and her eyes would open to him for the first time in a long time. He couldn’t remember the last time they had touched, it felt like a betrayal to everything he felt for her. He owed her the truth, it couldn’t really be too late.

“One minute is all that I want.” A lie. He wanted an entire lifetime.

“Fine, but I’m not leaving.” She crossed her arms and stepped back into the corner, looking away from Ethan and the bed. June did not enjoy watching all laws of the universe being thrown out the window, even if she agreed that it helped in criminal cases.

He reached for Mariana’s cheek and then pulled his hand back. Nothing felt quite appropriate, not when their friendship never involved a physical relationship in any form. Mostly. One single memory disrupted that truth. But they had not spoken in some time, so he reached out again and did not hesitate to put his hand in hers.

Before there was a gasp for air, her hand tightened in his. But he had to let go.

Fifty-nine seconds.

“Mariana,” he entreated, almost breathless. “You’re at Delarosa General, you were attacked and I need to know who hurt you.”

“Ethan,” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes wide and alert, “you found me.”

Mariana Valentine; twenty-eight years, forty weeks, three days and two hours old. She would only grow one minute older.

“We don’t have much time. Do you know what happened to you?”

“Oh.” Mariana shook her head. She brought both of her hands to her face, wiping away at the tears that immediately formed. She felt no pain, Ethan knew that, but the agony written across her face was not physical. “It’s all over, isn’t it?”

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know why this happened,” Ethan lamented, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He wanted to wrap himself around her and promise that this was the end of all pain, the beginning of eternity.

Except his next touch would be the last and he did not know if death was an end or a beginning. He had no way to console her and no promises to make, only a heavy and permanent fate when his skin next brushed against hers. When he touched her again, she was dead for good.

His gift was often cruel, but he felt forsaken by all good in the universe. He had already lost his mother because of what he could do, he was surely being punished. He could not explain it any other way.

“Tell my parents I’m sorry I went for that walk. I should have stayed home. And Ethan...” She looked away, her eyes catching June leaning against the wall. “I wanted to come back, I missed you and I missed my parents. I would have come back to you.”

“Every minute of our friendship changed me, I want you to know that.” He didn’t know what else to say, there was too much to filter through in seconds.

That was their conclusion, a harrowing and blood soaked finale with no assurance of justice. One single minute on a gurney that ended as quickly as it began.

“Ethan,” June commanded.

“No.” He didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice.

Two seconds was no time to argue, and June was a survivor as much as she could be a fighter. She left so quickly that the room seemed to shudder upon her exit.

“Ethan.” His name came from Mariana’s lips. She looked up at him in fear and confusion, and the weight of his choice had a tight grip around his throat.

He didn’t know what to say. Their time was up, seconds past, and an alteration in the universe was completed. A life for a life. Mariana Valentine breathed because somewhere close by them, someone had just taken their last breath.

June, he thought as the panic burned in every vein. Guilt from every area of his life began to resurface, a compilation of every life he bruised, betrayed or buried. Who had he sacrificed to alter fate? This was not the person he wanted to be, the one he convinced himself he could be. He had never been more selfish in any minute of his life.

“I’m still alive,” she cried, “what did you do?” She wasn’t angry or upset, rather overwhelmed with shock.

“I couldn’t let you go, you were supposed to have more time.” His shame slowly evolved into a guilt ridden relief. She was safe, breathing against all odds and completely unaware of how complicated her life was about to become simply because she lived.

There was one thing she had already considered, the beginning and end of her life after death. Ethan’s touch.

“You can never touch me again.” She knew that something changed between then as soon as it was spoken aloud. Perhaps the one thing they hadn’t gotten the chance to explore; touch.

He could recall almost every time their shoulders grazed when they watched documentaries together. Or when she covered his hands with hers and promised him he had a purpose. The very first and only time they had ever kissed held permanent real estate in multiple parts of his brain. The last time he was completely and purely content, unbeknownst to anyone in his life, was that kiss.

They would never kiss again.

And then, like an alarm during a ceremony, a scream sounded off throughout the trauma centre. The consequences found Ethan before he could find them.

“Declan Nash isn’t breathing!”

Note: If there is any interest for me to continue this, I have a whole plan in place for the story. Also, it only makes sense for me to include some characters over others based on their value to the circumstances of this AU (not to Open Heart in general). I’m keeping what characters I think would fit into the story well and using other names in the story as places and so on. This would have lighter moments if I continued, the sad is out of the way...

Tagging: @ethandaddyramsey @binny1985 @openheart12 @bellcat2010 @edith-eggs1 @missmiimiie @queenofspades6 @schnitzelbutterfingers @longneckramsey @queencarb @kaavyaethanramsey @mkamra2355 @ethxnrxmsey whimsicalreader @jooous @blazerina @choices-lurker @itsgoingnuts @lilyvalentine @aworldoffandoms @choices-love-affair @nooruleman @junehiratas

#open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x reader #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart imagine #open heart edit #my fanfic #my edit

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mousehole5000 · 3 years

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the rest... of... book 4..... through chapter 225

i sad.

“He was lying to himself and lying to others! All nothing but deceit! No matter what, it was impossible to pretend nothing had ever happened, and it was impossible to return to before!!!” - i know :(

“Before Feng Xin went, he was afraid. Now that Feng Xin had gone, he wasn’t scared any longer. But, even though he wasn’t afraid anymore, he was in deeper agony.” - ah yes. being afraid of your friends leaving so you do things to drive them away so you can have something to point to and say that you were the one who made the choice and you dont have to fear it anymore. except that has never once worked out ever and turns out losing people just means you lost them and it still hurts. not that i would know or anything.....

“He saw upon the table there were a few plates of horrid-looking dishes that were now cold. They were what he made the queen take away without eating a single bite the night before. Now, he pulled them over absent-mindedly, and ate everything, not daring to leave behind a single leaf, afraid to miss a single grain of rice. After he ate he started puking.” - this broke me and the bad cooking isnt funny anymore :(

all this happens after they have money again. no further commentary on this chapter

i know for a lot of book 3 i just wanted hua cheng to go away but now i would give anything for wuming to come and interrupt these interactions with white no-face

“Lang Ying, a brute commoner, led an army and destroyed Xianle. With the aura of the king enveloping his body, ordinary evil wouldn’t be able to come close to his person. However, at this moment, what Xie Lian brought with him were millions of souls of those who died on the battlefield!” - interesting to think about this story from lang ying’s point of view. the bit about his wife and child... oh my god... the things we carry with us...

“Will it really be alright to leave him like this? How about, I give him a cup of water?” - cup of water motif is back... ouch

“One person. Just one. Really. Just one person was enough!” - for like 20 minutes after reading this i really was just sitting here thinking about every time a stranger did me a small a kindness and the times i did the same it just made me cry harder i love people and they really can be awful and choose to be cold and cruel but it means that when they choose to be kind..... it doesnt negate the cruelty but its still indescribable.. and being able to see that and remember that even after all the pain.....

ugh still just thinking about the times ive gone through something that changed me and having the cold numb fear that i would never be the same as i was before that i would lose some precious part of me forever and wondering if this would be the thing that finally did it... i dont know if ive ever actually experienced a piece of media that really make me think about that tbh

“Stop thinking so highly of yourself! I don’t need you to teach me anything, I can learn on my own. If you represent heaven’s will, then something like heaven’s will should be destroyed!” - why is defying the heavens so sexy.... keep it up (edit after white no-face identity reveal: HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!)

the fact that xie lian went through what he did and got nothing out of it and in fact lost everything he had left due to the trauma,,,,, but just one person is enough for him to willingly offer to do it again, even if all he could save is one person,,,,,, crying again.... and who it is who takes it all on instead... ok...

“After all, everyone knew that Mu Qing ascended because he cleaned up all the remaining stubborn resentful spirits in the old capital of Xianle, so to understand it as “generous and kind” wasn’t unreasonable. In any case, everyone in the old capital of Xianle were all very grateful for him.” - its not unreasonable at all!!! this boy picks cherries for his mom and the neighborhood kids leave him alone

“Shaking his head, Xie Lian contemplated, then he ladled two large bowls of rice, one offered inside the Temple of Ju Yang, the other inside the Temple of Xuan Zhen. Finally, feeling that everything served its purpose, he clapped his hands close, completely satisfied.” - please i just want them to be friends again

ruoye........ xie lian bidding farewell to the tiny red flower.... ok i feel a totally normal amount about all these things

book 5 time!!!

xie lian king of taking a third option.. no one dies in the kiln at all we’re just leaving bitch

“Xie Lian didn’t know why he had to use his hands to cup Hua Cheng’s cheeks, but he did so subconsciously, probably so he could comfort him, but also because Xie Lian was afraid Hua Cheng’s face would be frostbitten by the snowstorm.” - gay people.....

“This giant stone divine statue must’ve been sculpted when Hua Cheng was trapped inside the Kiln, when he was severely beaten down and in intense suffering.” - ohhhh my god. okay. okay. look. i get it....

“The divine statue obeyed his command and took off with a gigantic, wide step, going along with the rolling current of snow. One slide was several miles, and the snow waves it created crashed around its body. Because both its arms were open, even though it was a body of a million tons, it still maintained good balance.” - HELL YEAH!! HELL YEAH LETS FUCKING GO LETS GOOOOO

the statue that requires transfers of spiritual energy... statue of make you kiss me i see how it is.....

“Hearing this, Hua Cheng raised his brows, his expression seeming to say, please have them beat each other to death, that’d be great.” - when you dont like your SO’s friends and they dont like you

“With a sharp sword in hand, Xie Lian was like a tiger with wings added, his might increasing exponentially, and he struck out!” - YES!!! GET EM!!!!

“No one could blame him for not knowing what was going on. Perhaps, he was confused the entire way: Why was he beaten? Why was he buried inside a wall? Why was he turned into a daruma doll? And why did he have to turn into a sword, too? There was not a single point where he’d figured out what was happening.” its okay qyz its okay i know honey me too

HELLO?? SQX IS BACK???? omg what a development omg omg okay okay interesting... okay so shi wudu would have rather died than lose everything but shi qingxuan is still trucking

“Hua Cheng responded lazily, “Oh? So you mean to say, beggars can’t save the world? Is it because they don’t have the ability to, or because they’re not worthy?” - KING okay i know this is a motivational tactic but also... who was it who took on all the souls for the human face disease and did in fact save the world back then hmmm?

absolutely enthralled by the fact that in chapter 207 we find out that the guoshi is in fact just. still here. and the name of the chapter is "Seeking Affection; Ghost King Fakes Displeasure” which i mean that happens too but fjasdlkfajsld

bruh okay. okay. okay. everything is happening okay. okay. chaos in the heavens okay. ling wen is still invited to kiss me on the mouth tho idc

“Indeed Yin Yu didn’t have enough confidence, and said weakly, “Chengzhu has shown me grace, he saved me…” “I know,” Jun Wu said. “He even helped you pacify and send off the resentful spirit of Jian Yu, who died during banishment, am I right?” - awww im glad they resolved that bit that whole situation was awful also give me the forbidden hua cheng ghost king lore...

“Yin Yu finally couldn’t take it anymore. He clenched his fists tight, his knuckles cracking, and he whipped around. “I DO RESENT HIM! I DO HATE HIM!!! BUT, SO WHAT??” - yin yu kiss me on the mouth right now

“Xie Lian hugged him. “It’s alright, it’s alright. These are all small matters, really. Your Highness Yin Yu, just live in this world for another few hundred years and you’ll know that none of that really matters. Either driven to madness or really wishing someone would die, whichever. Who in the world has never had such thoughts? I’ve even thought of massacring all in the world who had wronged me, it’s true, and no lie, I’d almost done it. But look at me, haven’t I shamelessly lived until now? You haven’t actually done anything in the end, and that’s the most important thing.” - he’s right im crying again

“But…in the end, I…still think…it’s so unfair,” Yin Yu sobbed. “If I was already destined to be no one remarkable, then at the very least, I…wanted to be a kind and perfect person. But…I couldn’t even do that. It’s really…so unfair. And truth to be told, even in this moment, just thinking that I’m dying for Yizhen, this little dummy, I still can’t get over it. I can’t even let go and die with a heart with no resentment and no regrets, what is that.” - YIN YU YOU CANT DIE NOOOOOOO youre the only man in this whole book i would kiss why does this always happen im actually really sad ;_;

“If the Rain Master was killed directly, and a better heavenly official couldn’t be found to replace her, the people put food above all else; if agriculture isn’t running smoothly, the world will be thrown into chaos. You don’t let people eat, people won’t give you a job. Besides being displeased with the Rain Master, the people of the world might also begin to be dissatisfied with the great god above Rain Master’s head. Which means, if he isn’t careful, the fire can burn all the way onto him. If things aren’t controlled adequately, it might incur riots to topple gods.” - rain master my friend rain master... also yes!!!!! food production!!!! critical!!!!!!! theres a lot you can get by without but food is not one of them!!!!!

“Feng Xin was Xie Lian’s servant, his good friend, but not his slave. He could’ve built his own home, had his own family. And he had actually already met those people, but the encounter just had to be during Xie Lian’s first banishment, the toughest days they suffered back then.” i am very sad about all of this

hua cheng in the palace of ling wen looking for the brocade immortal while the heavens are in complete chaos as the world turns on its head and STILL taking the time to beg for kisses is making me lose it fjalkdfjlsd

oh my god the guoshi and the cards thing..... hmmmm

delighted that mount tong’lu has such great significance beyond just being the kiln or whatever

hmmm crown prince of wuyong... its truly sad... but dude.....

the way that the heavenly capital is literally built out of previous gods... wow

the outright attempt to continue to cycle of trauma that failed simply bc 1. xie lian is his own person and 2. xie lian recieved kindness and gave it back to the world even to the people who refused to help him im ;_;

the absolute mess of xuan ji/rong guang/pei su/banyue/ke mo going down in the palace of ming guang... entertainment

okay i think im to a point where i dont have any possible spoiler knowledge in my brain about what happens next (only thing i have is theres a joke about he xuan eating that i dont understand yet and i think we might get like an emily corpse bride moment but if we do i dont know why) but oh my god things have escalated

#oh my god the next one might be the last??? we'll see #what a ride for real #tgcf liveblog #ty to everyone who comments or reads even a bit of these i appreciate you #mouse mumbles

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hellzyeahwebwielingessays · 4 years

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The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 5: The Return of Mysterio

Previous Part

Next Part

Master Post

We finish off our coverage of Mysterio’s history by bringing us up to date. We will also be covering more MJ centric events as we set up for AMJ #1.

Welcome to the 2010s!

Beck’s Back Baby!

Marvel truly brought the original Mysterio back in early 2010 as part of the overarching ‘Gauntlet’ event running through Brand New Day. However, later retcons from the ‘Spider-Men’ mini-series revealed he’d actually been back even earlier than that. He simply opted to concentrate his efforts on Earth 1610/the Ultimate Universe.

Because I do not want to go through the agony of refreshing my memory of BND or Slott’s run I shall instead simply take note of one significant event Mysterio participated in during the latter.

In the ‘Ends of the Earth’ arc (ASM #682-687) Mysterio was knowingly complicit in Doc Ock’s scheme to seemingly fix global warming. In reality it was the dying doctor’s goal to mass murder half the planet so that he’d be immortalized in the minds of the survivors as worse than Hitler.

Long story short, Otto planned to use space tech to manipulate the sun’s rays and direct them at whatever areas of the Earth he chose. In effect he could heat up or cool down whatever areas of the planet he wished.

It all kicked off in ASM #682 when Otto used his weapon to target half the world and heat it up. Known areas affected included New York City, Illinois, Rio De Janeiro and Ontario. The art depicts animals suffering or dying along with masses of people enduring severe pain and with some passing out; presumably from serious heat stroke.

Ock claimed this was merely a demonstration of what the real life effects of global warming would be. His intent was merely to shock people into accepting his solution of using this same technology to resolve the climate crisis. However, even if he were sincere (which he absolutely wasn’t) he still would’ve caused a lot of unnecessary harm to up to 3.5 billion people and many more animals and wildlife.

Sure, this is all Ock’s scheme and none of the Sinister Six seemed to know his true intent. But his initial demonstration was still sadistic and harmful even if no one died (which is frankly contrived and ridiculous). Mysterio still went along with it, and as ASM #684-685 proved it was for purely selfish reasons. As payment for ending global warming Otto wanted to have the Sinister Six’s criminal records expunged and $2 billion paid to each of them.

Granted later (for equally selfish reasons) Beck switched sides. But that still demonstrates what a bad person he ultimately was.

The thing to bear in mind is that this was all highly public. EVERYONE on Earth knew about this and MJ was depicted on panel as a witness among the billions of onlookers. So she knows Mysterio only helped save the world out of selfishness and was willing to harm billions of people out of similar selfishness.

Invasion>Attention>Reconciliation?

One last time skip brings us to the home stretch; Nick Spencer’s run on ASM.

In the first issue of Spencer’s run we learn that Mysterio has fabricated a highly believable alien invasion (chiefly utilizing practical effects) at the heart of town.

Daredevil, the Avengers and the Guardians of the Galaxy are among the heroes who’ve assembled to deal with the crisis. Beck’s effects are so convincing that he has all of them fooled and thus unable to resolve the situation. That’s pretty impressive when you consider that between them they’ve got immense intelligence, scanning technology and hyper senses.

This is yet further proof of just how skilful a trickster Mysterio is.

Peter defeats Beck but almost dies in the attempt.

Prompted by his experiences that night and by Mysterio’s own words, Peter sought out MJ.

Upon finding her he relayed (without specifying details) how he almost died earlier and how this put things into perspective for him. The end result of their talk is that he and MJ finally reconcile.

In the last instalment I spoke about how Peter clearly keeps MJ abreast of most of his super heroics; or at least did when they were married.

Let’s bear that in mind as we consider this specific situation

After years of separation and false starts at reconciliation, the magic has finally been rekindled between them.

It happened the very same night as, and in direct response to, an event involving Mysterio.

An event we already know Peter mentioned to MJ without specifying details.

An event that involved a deliberately public staging of an alien invasion at the heart of Manhattan! An invasion that involved the Avengers no less! And one of whom (Iron Man) MJ worked for until very recently.

Whether that night or soon thereafter it is extremely likely Mary Jane would’ve learned that Mysterio was behind the event in question.

Peter would’ve told her. It beguiles beliefs that he would’ve done otherwise. In the seminal ‘Kraven’s Last Hunt’ storyline Peter was completely missing for two weeks, buried alive by Kraven the Hunter. Within hours of crawling out of the ground Peter reunited with Mary Jane and the dialogue clearly conveys that he informed her what happened off-panel.

Furthermore, in the one shot ‘Soul of the Hunter’ Peter deals with some of the aftermath from ‘Kraven’s Last Hunt’. Specifically he believes he has seen Kraven the Hunter’s ghost. After this encounter Peter’s told MJ what happened, further proving my point. However, his dialogue also implies he regularly confides in her or feels obliged to be honest with her.

Additionally, as discussed last time, off-panel he obviously must’ve told MJ that he confirmed Mysterio’s death.

For the sake of argument though let’s say Peter didn’t elaborate. That being the case, then Mary Jane would’ve likely asked for a little more information.

Peter’s nearly died countless times before and during their separation. But on this specific occasion he was prompted to seek her out. Why? What was so special about this time?

Let’s remember MJ has studied psychology and worked as an actress, both of which entail a healthy dose of inquisitiveness.*

She also has a knack for getting in Peter’s head. This fact was stated and demonstrated as far back as Spec #85 (if not earlier).

Another example of this skill can be found in the ‘Soul of the Hunter’ one shot. In this story MJ recognizes Peter’s guilt and trauma over what Kraven did to him and the hunter’s consequent suicide.

In her younger days MJ also had a curiosity regarding Peter after she initially learned he was Spider-Man. In Untold Tales of Spider-Man #16 displayed this acutely, depicting MJ even following Spidey on one of his adventures.

More poignantly let’s put ourselves in MJ’s shoes for the moment.

The love of your life just randomly showed up at your home, proclaimed they nearly died and now wants to get back together after years apart.

Wouldn’t you want some more details? Wouldn’t scepticism or basic curiosity or concern lead you to discover more?

But let’s severely stretch the suspensions of disbelief. Let’s say that at no point did she nor Peter talk about what led to their reconciliation. Even accepting that, surely Mary Jane would’ve heard about Mysterio’s involvement.

Super powered people are hot news in general. Peter for example was able to reliably make money from selling Spider-Man photos for years. In Mysterio’s case, he was one of the few costumed criminals who actively designed his look and schemes to be attention grabbing. It was pivotal to his plan back in ASM #13 and his entire life has been built around a desire to put on a show and be centre stage.

More importantly, the sheer scale of his crime and the number of heroes involved in combatting it (which included ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’) would’ve been serious news. It would’ve been covered by pretty much any news service Mary Jane cared to consult. That’s not even mentioning just general conversation occurring around MJ during her daily routine.

Basically osmosis would ensure MJ learned of Mysterio’s involvement.

That’d be especially true considering he is a villain she, her lover, her friends and her family have had direct dealings with. If it were Moses Magnum she’d have still found out about it. But to say she would’ve remained in the dark when it was specifically one of Peter’s enemies is ridiculous.

Within MJ’s memory Mysterio isn’t a villain who’d simply be lost in the sea of freaks and weirdos Peter combats. He’d stand out even among them due to various factors:

His duels with Spidey. Spider-Man has battled a lot of costumed villains but when you look at his history he doesn’t actually fight all that many repeatedly. The ones that he does amount to just over two-dozen. It basically amounts to most (but not all) of the villains introduced in the first 50 issues plus several few others, most notably Venom, Carnage, Hobgoblin and Jackal.

His bizarre appearance. Mysterio designed it specifically to be attention grabbing and even amongst Spidey’s regular rogues it’s the most baffling. He wears a fishbowl for a head!

His involvement acts of public terror. These include his TV message from ASM #66 and ‘Ends of the Earth’. The latter was probably the single most global scheme any of Peter’s villains have ever participated in and a highly publicised affair. In fact all six of the villains involved in that would realistically stand out in most anybody’s mind!

The regularity of his fights with Spidey. Mysterio isn’t the Big Wheel or the Hypno-Hustler. He’s one of just over two-dozen foes Peter regularly tangles with.

His personally targeting MJ and her loved ones. MJ was abducted by Mysterio (remember she didn’t know it was actually Berkhart) and lived a fake life as a result. One of MJ’s mother figures had her death faked by Mysterio, which broke the heart of her beloved Aunt Anna. The love of her life was framed by Mysterio early in his career and had his sense of sanity and confidence attacked by him, not to mention his workplace (see FNSM #12). If you wish to count it, Mysterio also faked the death of her ex-boyfriend and long time friend Harry Osborn.

His actions violent actions in ‘Guardian Devil’. Even if one argues MJ only knew what she heard on the news the extreme level of violence Mysterio engaged in was unusual for one of Peter’s foes. The Goblins or the symbiotes might do stuff like that, but most of Peter’s other foes aren’t nearly as bloody as Mysterio was in that story. In fact Mysterio himself hadn’t been prior to that so this would’ve been a surprise. As such this would very likely stick in MJ’s mind on some level.

His suicide. Arguably above anything else he’d done, Beck’s suicide would’ve made him stand out amongst Peter’s foes. Few of Peter’s major enemies have seemingly definitively died and only 3 could be said to have done so by taking their own lives. Considering how Mary Jane isn’t going to be forgetting Kraven in a hurry someone intentionally copying him is inevitably going to stick out to her.

All of which is to say that MJ isn’t going to lose track of who Beck is. She isn’t going to treat him as simply another costumed creep in a city chock full of them.

He might not stick out in her mind in the same ways (or to the same degree) as some of Peter’s other foes. But he’d definitely be among the foes that would stand out to her.

Heading for Hollywood

The fallout of Mysterio’s ‘invasion’ was chronicled in a back-up story in ASM v5 #1, wherein he stands trial. This further proves how serious and public his crime was. But it’s relevance lies in how it contextualizes Beck’s actions going into AMJ.

Mysterio is represented by lawyer Janice Lincoln (secretly a super villainess herself) who tries to get him a lighter sentence on the grounds of insanity.

Abruptly though, everyone (sans Beck) seemingly die as the courtroom is transformed into a nightmarish sight. Mysterio is then confronted by a powerful and demonic figure (eventually referred to as Kindred).

Their consequent conversation heavily implies that following his suicide in ‘Guardian Devil’ Mysterio went to Hell, was recruited by Kindred and resurrected to fulfil a mission on his behalf (the specifics aren’t clarified).

This mission is part of a larger campaign against Spider-Man, whose secret identity both Kindred and Beck are aware of. In fact Beck’s staged alien invasion was intended to dispense with the collected heroes on Kindred’s behalf.

Kindred gave Mysterio one more chance and Beck suddenly found himself back in the courtroom as though nothing had happened.

Convinced of his insanity he was sent to the Ravencroft institute for insane super villains, which is where we find him next in ASM v5 #24-25.

In these issues, we discover that Beck has manipulated his psychiatrist (Dr. Winhorst) into believing he is in fact Mysterio. At the same time Beck has readopted his guise and Dr. Rinehart. As Rinehart, Beck further manipulated Winhorst (dressed as Mysterio) into having a therapy session and nearly revealing Kindred’s real identity. This prompted Kindred to appear and murder Winhorst.

As Rinehart, Beck gave a statement to the police regarding ‘Mysterio’s’ death. This confirmed that the authorities had found a body and at least at that point in time believed it to be the real Mysterio. Since Beck has faked people’s deaths before (including his own) it is entirely plausible that he had the means to fool their methods of verifying the identity of the body. This would be the case even if the authorities used Marvel universe pseudoscience.

However the story never confirms if Mysterio’s death became public knowledge, the police may well have been keeping it quiet as they investigate further.

These are factors to bear in mind when we go forward.

Kindred catches up to Beck and reveals he is fully aware of the attempted deception. He chastises Beck for failing to fulfil his mission for him. Kindred admits though that had Beck done as he was asked he’d have been returned to Hell.

Instead of punishing him though Kindred instead produces a film script Beck wrote. He suggests that in his remaining time alive Beck fulfil his life’s dream and make the film a reality. His rationale for this is that Beck’s goals align with his.

Specifically that in giving Beck what he wants it will somehow deny something to someone else Kindred has a vendetta against. This leaves Beck confused.

In this same issue the new Electro takes an acquaintance of Mary Jane’s hostage and threatens to kill her on social media. Using her acting skills to deceive and distract Electro, Mary Jane manages to rescue her ‘friend’. Her social media performance is lauded and swiftly followed by her old agent contacting her and offering her a role in a new movie by a new writer/director, one who asked for her by name. This is of course Mysterio.

In ASM v5 #29 we see MJ rehearsing the script with Peter, as I mentioned earlier in this essay series. Something else to take note of though is that MJ and Peter mutually praise the script.

Anyway, as the issue proceeds Peter is divided about MJ’s departure. He wants her to be happy and pursue her career but also doesn’t want to lose her (again). Unfortunately Spider-Man business crops up causing him to miss her departure for L.A. There are no hard feelings and the couple are committed to maintaining a temporarily long-distance relationship. Nevertheless, this saddens Peter as we learn he was hoping to propose to Mary Jane.

I bring this issue up because it is not only directly continued in AMJ #1 but it provides potentially important context for our analysis of Beck moving forward.

Beck is making this movie for himself. However, he is fully aware his dangerous demonic overlord wants him to and has a vendetta against Spider-Man; whom Beck also knows is Peter Parker.

Kindred claimed that by allowing Beck to make his movie he’d be denying someone something they want. It is extremely likely that this ‘someone’ is Peter and the ‘something’ being denied is Mary Jane. This is evidenced by Kindred’s portrayal up to this point coupled with the sadness MJ’s departure caused to Peter.

What is a little more debatable is if Mysterio personally wanted MJ in his movie or if he requested her presence on Kindred’s orders. There is no on panel evidence of the latter and Mysterio’s confusion in ASM v5 #25 implies he doesn’t understand how making the movie will help Kindred.

On the other hand Beck is not unintelligent so if he knows Pete is Spidey and that Kindred is targeting him then it’s unlikely he couldn’t deduce Kindred’s meaning. After all, its unlikely that Beck wouldn’t do a little homework and found out the man who famously took photos of Spider-Man also had a long romance with the actress/supermodel Mary Jane Watson.

Furthermore there seems to be little rationale as to why Beck would want Mary Jane in his movie other than due to her connection to Spider-Man. Her acting credits are small and wouldn’t be all that impressive in his eyes. This supports the idea that MJ’s inclusion in the movie was due to Kindred not Beck. Or perhaps her involvement was something Beck wanted but that was due to her connection with Spidey, making her a pawn in his scheme.

Regardless, Mysterio likely knows MJ’s involvement plays heavily into what Kindred wants, even if he hypothetically doesn’t know exactly how. This makes his insistence upon using her unethical and his lack of honesty dangerous to her and her loved ones.

That just about brings us up to speed on Mysterio. Now we’re ready to truly get into the meat of the matter starting with Amazing Mary Jane #1.

*It could be argued this is the rationale behind making her a journalist in other continuities such as the Ultimate Universe or the Gamerverse.

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Master Post

#Amazing Mary Jane #Mysterio #Quentin Beck #mjwatsonedit #mary jane watson #Mary Jane Watson Parker #MJ Watson #Leah Williams #spider-man #peter parker #Brand New Day #Dan Slott #Doctor Octopus #otto octavi #nick spencer #Avengers #Guardians of the Galaxy #Sinister Six

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monstaxardeur · 4 years

Text

Warnings: Mature, Angst, Death

Kihyun stirred in his sleep and he instinctively tried to look for you next to him under the covers, when he found the bed empty he panicked a bit and looked around only to realize it'd been raining. The patter of rain was really loud and there were gentle sounds of thunder far off, he stepped out into the lounge to find you by the small balcony window, your hands outstretched and you were partially soaked. But he really couldn't forget that smile on your face, you smiled and he didn't think anything could bring him as much joy as it did seeing you like that. You had that childlike gleam and the soft laughter when the rain tickled you picking up speed and you reached for the window to close it but left one side open. You turned around to see him awake and smiled shyly as he felt a smirk tug at his lips at your reaction, it was cute to him. He grabbed a towel to dry you up and you found it odd how your communication with him was mostly actions and reading each other instead of talking, you two barely talked. What would a hunter and a corrupted vampire being have to talk about anyway, both of you were scared of confused emotions surfacing to the tongue, what if you drifted apart? But you wished to make small talk today, you seemed to muster courage but fail each time, he noticed at the second and third attempt as he dabbed the soft fabric over your face. He concentrated on how you fidgeted with your shirt's hem and opened your mouth faintly to speak again but before you could he silenced you with a tender kiss. He had a lot to say but felt it was better if he just showed it like he always had. He was nervous about your reaction but was fairly surprised and relieved seeing how easily you gave in, how weakly you caved to his mere touch of love, you shared his sentiments.

You were lead back to the bedroom and he was so gentle yet at the same time extremely passionate, you felt the intensity the need for him to ravage you but he held back letting you catch your breathe, knowing very well your impulses could lose control. He was walking a dangerous path but seeing your reaction assured him you had control right now. His strong arms gripped you firmly as he had you pinned to the bed, bodies attached so sinfully close and he hated to give space but the clothes were getting in his way and he was hasty with the way he got rid of his shirt. Once he tossed the shirt away he noticed you unbutton yourself for him too and he helped peeling it off kissing all those unmarked places that were so supple and virgin to him. You whimpered and he grew weak, for someone who barely spoke gosh you really made him weak and he tried nipping at that weak spot and you let out a satisfied whimper wrapping your arms and legs around him. The friction of his hard on against your core was driving you crazy and you traced his toned form and tugged at his slacks before your hands slipped under briefly, your neediness showed and he stopped you knowing how crazy it would drive him and he really didn't want to go rough on you. "That's a dangerous move love." he whispered above your lips and your face turned crimson from embarrassment and he grinned, smirking into your neck as he lead kisses down and forced open your legs apart. That dainty little panty of yours stood no chance and tore easily when he used a little force to pull it down. It didn't matter really you were too busy muffling your moans as his digits worked your folds, he saw you cover your face as if embarrassed at yourself and he removed your hands away letting you see him, he desperately needed that connection and his fingers traced over your bruised lips and he saw you sigh in need of him as your hands clawed his chest a little. He freed himself from the constraints of his slacks before aligning himself to you, he grunted feeling how tight you were and opened your legs a little more pulling you closer by the edge of the bed where he had you. He pressed his thumb across the length if your sensitive nub and watched you arch your back, he knew he had you where he needed you. "Please I need you." You spoke in soft whimpers and he finally started moving in seeing even if he was gentle he had gotten you impatient and he kept up his pace as he held you in his arms, fingers weaving in your damp hair and kisses all wet and bruising. You were a soft moaning mess and he propped himself up with his arms on your sides and watched how he worked you, moving deeper and faster getting erratic, his brows knitted and he watched you whine in your moans, you were close and your nails dug deep red marks on his taut arms before you almost let out a muffled scream reaching yor climax. He chased his high and you watched him while you heaved and pulled him close for softer kisses, your actions may have been the final blow and he came deep inside you and stayed in you for a while. Your soft kisses compared to his were turning him putty in your arms, he realized you had that touch that dangerous touch that broke him for he was just man who'd fallen in love. He gently lifted you to sit up and may have taken his sweet time making out with you until you two eventually scooted under the covers and dozed.

It had been a peaceful slumber tangled in the sheets with your new found lover except you weren't normal. You felt that wicked urge creep up inside you, it made your tongue feel dry at first and you flailed your arms for help but then your inner demon literally wanted to lunge at whoever was next to you for the blood source and you went pale realizing what was happening. Instead of flailing now you were pushing Kihyun away and you wriggled out of bed grabbing your discarded clothes and trying to find a place to close yourself up. Strong pair of arms got you back to your senses and he saw those blood shot eyes and your skin losing color. "No..no stay away from me, please…I can't control myself." You whimpered as tears rolled down your face. "Look at me, it's okay, you're okay. Just take a deep breathe and focus on me." You listened to him and he made you sit by the bedside getting those iv's and medicines and those blood dosages and slowly as the tubes fed you blood you calmed down. You were still crying and Kihyun sat close by, he touched foreheads with you and held your hands. You were wearing his shirt and he was just in his boxers, hes thumb pads rubbed circles on your knuckles to calm you when you finally spoke, "I'm so sorry.…I was just so scared...I didn't want to hurt you. I am terrified of losing you.." your words trailed.

'terrified of losing you..' the words echoed in your head.

A few tears had stained the pages and the ink bled through. You put the little notebook away, the notebook with many lose papers buried in it. You dragged the shall around you to keep you warm and dwelled on that memory before breaking out of the trance.

How long had it been since he'd been gone? You lost track of time. It was suppose to be a usual hunting trip and he'd sometimes be a little late but this time.…he hadn't returned. You were worried and thought of going after him but realized you were locked in...but of course he had to lock you in, you were a monster right? Initially you felt betrayed and hurt but then as more time passed, you started to ask yourself 'is he even alive?' You were grieving quietly, you couldn't think he would just abandon you like that. All these memories reminded you that you two really were in love even if it was all nameless but now it pained you to think something worse might have happened. During all of this emotional trauma you were also slowly running low on rations, you were out of everything...even the blood doses. You spiraled down back to the horrid condition he had found you in. This time your will was diminished.

It had gotten cold for you, extremely cold, the black veined marks tattooed your skin in different patches and grew slowly and painfully. You put away the letters and love notes you wrote to him and dragged yourself back to bed. You wore his clothes and slipped under the quilts. You had accepted your inevitable fate...

Kihyun had a fractured rib and severe cuts and bruises that took a while to heal, he was kept sedated and rested at his teammates place. None of them knew he had left someone behind so they didn't know why he was so jittery and panicked when he came to. They didn't let him leave seeing his condition but he sneaked past them not caring if he worsened his battle wounds. He drove back home, an hours worth of drive. He felt like his soul would literally escape him the more he came closer to his apartment. He barged in and felt the ominous chilly air, something bad had happened he could feel it. He trode carefully towards your room and he felt his heart choke, you were there on the bed in a death like slumber. He cupped your face trying to find signs if life, of warmth. He was crying profusely when he noticed you stir faintly and he brought your hands to his lips kissing them softly and tried to hold in his sobs. "It's me, I'm here love, it's going to be okay." He spoke merely above a whisper, you seemed to have trouble breathing and he realized you were on your last breathes, somehow you held on this long just for him. You didn't speak nor did you open your eyes but he could see you were in agony even if it didn't show in your face. Kihyun gently stroked your cheeks realizing he had to let you out of this misery, "It's okay you can let go now, I'm here.." He spoke to you in between hiccups accepting painfully the outcome and he finally you let go. Your body went limp and cold and Kihyun broke down, he wailed crying after you. You were gone and he blamed himself.

In your letters to him, you told him to forgive himself and to move on, not even once did you ask him to remember you instead you requested he forgets your paths had crossed so he could move on but his love for you had been so rare and true that he kept your photo in his wallet making everyone think he had a girl back home, no one knew you were a dead lover he never ever got over.

#monsta x #kihyun #monsta x scenarios #monsta x imagines #hunter #recuperer

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hoodie-lover · 4 years

Text

My Multiverse Ask Event! #6

KikiTheSapphireKitsune - Archive of Our Own - First, Second, Third, Fourth

Megalovaniaintensifies - Archive of Our Own - Fifth, Sixth

KikiTheSapphireKitsune - Archive of Our Own - Seventh

Megalovaniaintensifies - Archive of Our Own - Eighth, Ninth

KikiTheSapphireKitsune - Archive of Our Own - Tenth, Eleventh, Twelfth

Megalovaniaintensifies - Archive of Our Own - Thirteenth

KikiTheSapphireKitsune - Archive of Our Own - Fourteenth, Fifteenth

Megalovaniaintensifies - Archive of Our Own - Sixteenth

KikiTheSapphireKitsune - Archive of Our Own - Seventeenth, Eighteenth, Nineteenth, Twentieth, Twenty-First, Twenty-Second, Twenty-Third, Twenty-Fourth, Twenty-Fifth

Megalovaniaintensifies - Archive of Our Own - Thirty-Second, Thirty-Third, Thirty-Fourth, Thirty-Fifth, Thirty-Sixth

KikiTheSapphireKitsune - Archive of Our Own - Thirty-Seventh, Thirty-Eighth, Thirty-Ninth, Fortieth, Forty-First, Forty-Second, Forty-Third

Megalovaniaintensifies - Archive of Our Own - Forty-Fourth, Forty-Fifth, Forty-Sixth, Forty-Seventh

“heya.”

“you’ve been busy, huh?”

“...” Classic was quiet as he took a breath and continued his monologue.

“so, i’ve got a question for ya.” Classic said, smiling a grim smile.

“do you think even the worst person can change…?”

“that everyone can be a good person, if they just try?”

“heh heh heh heh...”

“all right.”

“well, here’s a better question.”

“do you wanna have a bad time?”

“cause if you take another step forward...”

“you are REALLY not going to like what happens next.”

“welp.” Classic said, smiling as he shifted his feet, excited and brimming with anticipation for what he hoped was their true, last fight.

“Get ready Frisk.”

“It’s the end.”

“Well Classic I can tell you that Chara doesn't like Frisk one bit. Chara is on your side, so there is that. You can also blame the askers for this, one of us made the mistake of asking Frisk a question about the multiverse.”

“Well, I’m glad to know I have one human ally in this world.” Classic muttered during the pause as he raised his hand and launched his attack.

“Yes Nightmare! I knew you would get it! Told you that you're smart.”

“Thanks. I just wish I could tell him without being interrupted.” Nightmare said, glaring at Maxie as she shrugged innocently.

“Nightmare, of course you are a good dad. You are better than my parents, although that is a low bar. I think you are great anyway.”

“Whatever you say.” Nightmare said, laying on his back as he retracted his tentacles.

“So guys, how are you gonna keep the brat from loading so you can do this? You have to have a plan!”

“Every time they die, we’ll swap out. Keep them on their toes and curious.” Killer snickered, watching Frisk dodge the bones with masterful ease and boredom.

“if your going to drain frisks DT wait out this timeline and ambush them the second they fall so they never get a save”

“That’s the plan. Get revenge, get a RESET, then drain them.” Dust whispered, eagerly waiting his chance to beat the brat into the ground and turn them into a red mush of flesh and broken bones.

“frisk if humanity is evil why not kill all humans”

“I can’t save or load on the surface, the only reason I can kill all monsters is because I can save and load.” Frisk whispered, standing before Classic.

“Frisk stop it, you say humanity is cruel but look at yourself! You are showing the worst of our species and it needs to end. You can choose to be kind, you can choose to be the change you wish to see in others but instead you attack the people who cared about you? Stop and look at what you have become, there is so much better you could have done. Please, just stop hurting everyone.”

“I don’t care. I haven’t for a long time.” Frisk said, their eyes filled with bloodlust as they swung their knife at Classic, the punny skeleton grabbing their hands and throwing them across the room.

“classic if you don't do certain things to not break script do you fall asleep on purpose at the end of the genocide”

“I do. I get completely exhausted, and the only way to get stronger in the time I’m given is something I’ve tried. Twice.” Classic said laughing at Frisk’s shocked face.

“Though I mostly fake it nowadays, fighting the Dark Sanses really got me into shape.” Classic said, chuckling darkly as Frisk got up and charged. It was pathetic.

“chara why do you let frisk reset at the end of genocide route if you dont reset for them they wont kill toriel asriel and flowey”

“Ḭ̴̯̚ ̵̼̥̇̀w̸͙̆o̴̻̖̅ù̷̮̞̉l̵̗̠͗̈́d̷͚̼̈́̽ ̴̡̘̚ḩ̸̘͌a̶̯̒͋v̷̙̒ͅe̶͙͑ ̸̦͋ṡ̵̪͍t̴̖́̆o̶̭͍͊p̶͙͐p̸̯̩̐ê̷͚̕d̵̰̞͊͘ ̶̛͍t̴͎̫͊̽h̴̗̥̎e̴͐ͅm̸̖̔̿ ̶͓̄ī̸͎̀f̴̢̚ ̸̪͘Ì̸̢̇ ̴̰̓̚ͅc̸̣͊͝ǒ̸͓u̶̥͚͛l̵̯̃̉d̵̦̈́.̵̩̐” Chara said, small tears forming in their eyes as they held a breath they didn’t need to.

“Hey Alt, sad to tell you that you're most likely right. Most Errors were never really shown much kindness in their multiverse, most have been tortured by the creators and even the other versions of yourself and your friends. Most Errors need a helping hand, and are too scared of being hurt more to actually accept it. Also there is the touch phobia most have, which is usually a trauma induced phobia in most people who have it so it makes sense Error would have it. So what are you going to do about your Error? Are you going to try to help him?”

“I’ve tried reaching out several times, I’ve apologized for using him like I did when we fought my Nightmare, and I leave him gift baskets with chocolate and sewing supplies. I think they’re working, he’s not as active, but I hope it’s not because of the creators in my world.” Alt said, looking at Classic. He was fighting the human

“Killer, Dust.... you are both precious little beans who love their new found family and will protect them with everything you have. I don't care what you say you are adorable!”

“No we are not.” They said in unison, they were barely audible over Frisk’s screams of frustration at Sans’ new patterns. Though they haven’t died yet.

“Oh Stretch, you must mean the YandereBerry, yeah he is unsettling to say the least.”

“Ink genuinely made one, and then never made another. Everyone stayed away from our AU for a week after that incident.” Stretch said, shuddering at the memory.

“frisk what do you think of jerry”

“I hate him as much as humanity.” Frisk said, their arm crackling and bones fragments grinding against each other as they swung their blade again.

“I know those ships made you guys cringe but what they put other Red's through is worse. He gets shipped with everyone and everything, including(but not limited to) his brother, blue, the pet rock, classic, black, lust, horror, jerry(ew), and of lust.”

“Oh boy. Do not get me started.” Red grumbled, growling as he remembered one time Ink rambled on about all the ships involving him when he confessed to having a crush on Blue. It held a sour taste in his mouth as he didn’t know if it was fake or not, or if his feelings were fake or not. But he kept going as he was happy and no one was being hurt.

“I feel bad for him, he really has it the worst.” Blue said, kissing him on the cheek or whatever the equivalent was.

“He does, when I say everyone I mean EVERYONE. Every single sans has been shipped with him at least once, as have the papyrus's, he has been shipped with every monster in his universe and the kid. Red is in a lot of smut pieces, and it is kinda weird.”

“Yeah, it’s almost like he has a lot to choose from.” Black said, and Red’s eye narrowed at the sight of the promiscuous skeleton.

“killer and dust so aren't you both technically from the classic timeline”

“We are.” They said in unison.

“Oh Black, how are you planning to win Blue over?”

“I will ruin Red’s reputation with scandals and swoop in to comfort Blue in his time of betrayal. Then I will set up many circumstances where he will be in danger and I shall save him. I will also gift him with many great items worthy of Blue’s magnificence!” Black said, whispering so no one would hear him.

“Hey Frisk why don't you just talk to us for a minute and pay no mind to anything happening, you can just load if something happens anyway so no need to keep your guard up. Stop hunting down monsters and tell me a bit more about who you are, what is a few minutes?”

“A distraction. If better executed, it may have worked.” Frisk said, smirking.

“Guys please tell me this plan of yours is gonna work, do not let this murder child into the multiverse. And Paps, I know you are the forgiving type but they need to be stopped, if they somehow get access to the doodlesphere there is no telling what they might do.”

“No kidding. They are determined, more so than any monster or human we know. It’s horrifying to know what they would do if they got access to the entire multiverse.” Papyrus said, sighing as he watched what was going on, it hurt even though he had watched several times.

“I just want everyone to be ok.”

“So do I.” Papyrus said, shaking a bit.

“Yikes, Paps gave up on someone? I mean I get it, they are doing some pretty awful things just cause they can, not for any reason either. They don't have any reason to hurt anyone other than they can and they feel above consequences. Show them they are not, please.”

“With pleasure.” Dust said, watching Frisk fall down dead and swapping with Classic right as Frisk came back.

Frisk wasted no time before they were stabbed in the arm. And then their other arm, and legs. With cries of agony they fell to the ground and Dust laughed.

“Pathetic. This is what killed me millions of times? What drove me into insanity? Pathetic.” Dust said, as the kid got up and dodged.

“Well, I’m going to admire watching you die.” Dust said, firing blasters at the kid who was much slower as they beld out.

“So Error, your dad knows who you really are, or were... wanna try and guess? I mean you now know you were from a split off of the classic timeline so you should be able to narrow it down.”

“Out of everyone, the chances of them getting into the anti-void is slim, and Ink did entertain Geno as a possibility. And since I did hear a ‘G’ through the censor, I guess I was Geno. Meaning I had to watch them all go crazy at one point in time, though not Horror, he was before any Genocide.” Error said, shaking with rage.

“Is geno helping too? with stopping the brat?”

“Hell yeah!” Geno said, he was in the save screen. He would be going last.

“Error the ship with you and Ink is def a different multiverse. It is usually consensual and both are happy together in most cases. There are a few Yandere Inks but only a few. Error makes me happy.”

“Yandere and Ink are two words that shouldn’t be together. In any sentence. Ever.” Error said, shuddering at the thought.

“Also I will admit to being a tad biased in favor of the Dark Sans's, but just a tad.”

“As are we! I hope that Frisk is murdered and never comes back!” Maxie said, and the other Creators cheered.

“So Dream, Nightmare... what pranks can I help with?”

“The glitter prank.” Dream said and Red looked at him, and Dream turned away, snickering to himself.

“Can't Error use his strings to capture Frisk's soul, like when he is destroying a universe so the kid can't just reset?”

“We could, but some souls have gotten out before. We don’t want to risk him escaping.” Error said.

“Hmm, would be nice if you could somehow give Chara a second chance. They certainly deserve to be part of your family more than Frisk does. Chara still sees you all as their family.”

“They do? You can talk to them?! Oh my god.” Toriel said, falling to her knees as Asgore held his hand over his mouth.

“Well, it seems this is one big mess. Bigger than I thought.” Flowey said, looking at his former parents with an odd feeling.

“See Nightmare, it is frustrating to not just be able to tell them the answer right? Stupid censoring.”

“It sure is.” Nightmare said, sighing.

“Blue, what's in the flask? And don't deny having it, I know you do you naughty boy.”

“Whiskey. And I am once again unable to get to any level of intoxication. I might as well be drinking water!” Blue said, rubbing his temples.

“Hey Alt's Error, you doing ok? The voices aren't being too cruel are they? If they hurt you I will fight them!”

“They’re fine.” He said, giving a very disgusted look.

“error just out of curiosity aren't you and ink supposed to be there to keep balance in the multiverse”

“Replace Ink with the Creators and you have a correct statement. It used to be Ink and I but that, clearly, didn’t quite work out.” He said, rolling his eyes.

“chara is a ghost like napstablook or mettaton so isn't it possible to make a body for him”

“It’d be possible to make one for her, yes chara is a girl. A lot of people get that wrong. But the ghosts of the Underground were born that way, they never died. So I’m not sure.” Alphys said, thinking.

“error have you ever destroyed the classic timeline”

“Wouldn’t be here if I did.” Error said, watching a very morbid display on Dust’s end.

“Well that’ll give me nightmares.” Error said, turning away.

“ok so if dust sans kills all the monsters i mean all the monsters getting him to level 19 he might be able to talk to chara maybe?”

“I occasionally see a wips of green and yellow. I assume that’s the kid, but I don’t have enough DT to actually hold a conversation with them.” Dust said, sighing.

“toriel if you break script and cut the flowers that break the humans fall they will never be able to kill anyone since they died”

“I could do that, but there are other ways into the Underground, small caverns and holes on the mountain, and it’s better knowing where they will fall rather than not knowing where.” Toriel said, sighing.

“Hey Chara, is there anything you would like us to tell your parents? I want to help you!”

“Ṱ̷̠͔̲̭͍̩̩̑̀͠e̵͕̰͖̯͙̫̯̔͌̇̀̍̈́̋̂̉̏́̍͆͝ļ̸̹̙̲͖̗͈̟̰̝̀͑͒̚͝l̵̨̞͙̪̬̒̒̂̈͂̉͌̆̓̊̆͘͘ ̴͈̼̰̖̬̊̒́̓̾͋̂̊̚͝ẗ̸̡̧̮̝̹̘̟̰̪̤̰̖̪̝̦̋͂̆̈͜͜h̴̢͇̜̜͚̻̬͕̻̠̤̝̀̾̍̍̋͌̂͊͊̚͜͠ḝ̶̢̛̯̯͍͖̤̳̻̰͍̓̂͑͂̉͋̃́͂̐̕̕̕͝m̷̼͍͑͒͒̓̃ ̴̟̦͉̙̱̫̞̗̪̭̰̫͌͑͋̀͑̾̀̿̀͝͝ͅͅḮ̷̧̡̛̱̠̯̠̘̫̞̮͓̩̻̥̳̪̖̆̃̅̓̄̎̌̾̓̃̀̓͆̚̕͜͠'̵̨̰̹͕͍͎̻̺͍͈͇̿͗̍̉̓͠m̸̩̀̄̾͗̌̔͠ ̸̺͇̟̤̗̹̫̱͍̯̉̾̅̃̾͊̎́̌͝s̴͚͓̽̈́͑̓͐͊̈́̆͠o̵͔̖̠̥̫̓̓̀̀̈̆͑̒ṟ̸̛̩̞̺̝͖̳͍̘̪̗̣͇̇̂̿͛̔̒̒͛͑͐͘͘͠ͅͅr̷̢̻̜̬̬̟͔͇̭͓̺̺̱̜̹̪͗͊̓̒̏́̔͛y̶̧̼̮̦̞̭̙͚̺͆!̵̨̹͚́̏ ̷͕̹̘͔̰̜̞̯͚̇̑͑̅͊̈́̆͠T̸͎̤̎̄̕͝h̵͍̠͍̣̞̣̜̝̦̘͇͆̏̓̾̋̐̀̋̊̽͗͂̔͝a̷̬̱͎̰̐̾͑̒ͅt̸̡̢̛̝̳̠̗̖͙̺̩̖̣̤̙̐̀̐̽̽̄̿̾͌͗̍̅̇́͜ ̷̨̢̧̡̩̭̠̰͈̰͉̻̻͔̼̘̤͇̈́̑̉͂́̐̈͛̈́̽̃̇͌͝I̵̧̲͍͇͉̘̰̝̠̭͓͈̗̩̞̐̉̒̉͗̕͜'̷̨̨̡̺͇̯̮̮̞̘̰̫͓̑̄̈͐̒̄̊̉̇͋͘̕̕m̵̧͕̹̞̩̱̞͍͈͇̜͇͎̦̦͔̃̑̓̎̑͛̅̊̂̉̒̆̃̕͝ ̷͖͉̈̍̆͌̈̉̑́̏̈͆͊͠͝͝s̷̢̢̗͕̺̔̈́̂̐͐̆̉̏̐͘̕̚͝͝͠ò̴̡̢͓̗̪̝͔͈͚̣̋̒̽̓́͋͂̀̋͜͜͜r̸̲͓͎̠͍̀̂̕r̵̮̭̳̙̖͚͓̤̥͕͒̊̉y̸̡̨̗̼̳̦͖͔̖̟̱̙͎͖̆̆̊̍̐̉͌̽̾̒̔̎͘̕͠ ̶̧̬̟̝̏̍̒̈́̏̓̂̊̚͜f̴̢̨̨̺̰̬̰̤̪̫̮͚̣͎̖͑̃̈́͑͛̊͒͜o̷̢̒̓̀̇͒̅̓͝r̶̢͚̘̖̆̏̑̾͝ ̸̻̱͍̳̭̳̥̜̞̻̺͇̝̻̳͋̚ȩ̷̯͕̱͙͍͕̦̘̱̘͚̰̤̬̝́͑͗̋͝ͅv̸̖̬͎̍̉̃̅̚e̴̢͖͖͓͓̣͇̞͖̝͆͊̆̆͌̃͒̕͜͝r̴͕͚̣̯̻̰̭͉͍͓͇̭̐͛̋̀̀̐͜͜ͅỷ̶̘͊͛͌̆̃̒̏̐͛̀̒̀͝͝t̷̙̦̘̿̈̾͋͌̓̌͠ḩ̴͓̘̠̪̫͔͕̳̗͖͇̺̪̲̝̘̓į̴͇̘̗͆̓͋́̆̈́̉̑͗̏̐͒ņ̴̛̛̞̺̯̝̤̜͚̘͙̜̂̔͗͊̐́͂́͆̿́̍̚ͅg̸͈̠̈́́̀̑͠ ̶̧̩̻̰̠͎̍̑̾̀̌͆̈͂͋̓́̎̇ͅȧ̸̧̢̡̭͙̯̲̙͕̩̤̯̜̙̘̼̅͘͜n̴̡̛͓̘̺̹̠̲̔̍̍̅͗͆̍͐͛̄͆̈́̕͘͝d̶̰͇̱̩̫̻̝̝͍̓͜ͅ ̶̨̑̃̈͆͋̓̑̔̾̈̈͐̒͠I̴̢̡̤̦͇̜̳̖̦͙͖͕̖̱̠̬͈͎̊̂̆̇̑̂́̍́̉͑͑͝͠͝ ̵̮̳͔̩̩̙̇́̐͋͂̿̀̌͠͝͠ľ̴̨̧͈̫̏́̿̀̽̇͌͐̔́̈̽͘͝͝ǒ̴͉͔̫̙͖͇̟͑̋̋̂̂̅̉̒̀̇͂̎͆̄͝͝v̴̫͓͎͙̥̥̤̙͙̱͙̮͚͓̭̻̦̾̌̍̉ȩ̵̡̜̜̺̙̩̻̪̬̼̱͈̰͉̦̳̀̃̈͗͜͠ ̴̛̛̥͕̤͙̠̀͆̈́͂̐͊́͒͑̓̄̿͜͜t̴͙̆̓̊̚h̷̢̳̝̜̱̓́ę̵͓̳̫̲̼͈̲̬̟͉̗̈́̑͛͛̒̍̈́͜͝ͅͅm̷̧̛̺̻̱̜͚͔͕͖̳̭̬̫͍̩̩͌̈́̀́̀̑̅̈̏̄̿͌͆̀͘͝ ̸̨̧̛̪̮͚̯͚̖̗͂̊̾̄́̎͊̂̾̀͗͋́̎̚̚ͅm̷̡̳͚͓͈̦̙̯͕̫̫̺̥̳̱͖̂̎̅͆͊̈́͛̂̀͋̒̒̿͋͊̾̚͘ǫ̵̧͔͈̫̮͈͕͉̩͓̭͈̜͋́͠r̵̹̣̬̲͉͌̋̓̐̍̌̓̉̒̏͒̚̚͝ȩ̴̧̲̰̬̦͕̣̙̜͍̬̹͔̼̩̩͊́͒̈́̋̌̿͌̆̓̇ ̸̛̻̙̭̯̳̊̈́̈́́̓̿̆́̽́̿̊͗̈́̕͘̚ṯ̴͉͖̖̥̹̻͓̫͖͒̀̇̍̑̈́̓̊͂̇̀̑̃̌͝ḣ̴̢͔͔̣̼̥̲̫̤̍̓͑̇̇̂́a̸̝̠̖̯̬̔̃͌̑͛̋͘n̸͓̳̹͎̬͚̺̬̮̟̗̞̝͓̹͛̑̓̈́̎̋̈́͠ͅ ̴̺̠̰͇̣̩̐̂̅͌̉͋͘͝͝ạ̵͚̱̥̙̖̣̦͎̣͕̞̪̗̦̑͒͋̇̏̾͐̓̇́̃́͆́͠͝͠ņ̷͈̪̝̔̎͌y̶̰̣̹̰̰̰͚͙̯̮͙̼͕̩̻̘̦̓̑̑̍̀̅̀̍̀̇́̋͒̚͝͝͝ṯ̸̢̢̢̥̺̭͚̳̼̣̠̞̳͈̥̽̂̓͋̋̇͆́̐̀͂́̅͛̕͜͜͝͝ḩ̵̟̹͇͕̜̖̘͓̥͎̮̐͆̋̋͛͆̂̔̿ͅī̴̢̤͙̟̜̜̞̩̠̰̊n̶̨̛̖̹̗͉̜͕̟̔̂̽̔̅̍̐͛̃̀̀̾͘͝ǵ̷̡̧̨̣̗̻̬͉̗̯̋̑̐̈́̐̈͆̑̋͗̕!̷̧̬̪̜̟͍̯̲̞͓̪̤̅̓͗̂̌͘ͅͅ ̶̱̄̓͑͊͆͌̔͠T̷̢̛̤͎̲̰͐̔͛̈̂̃̀͊̌̔̌͒̓͘͝h̸̢̡̡̧̩̟̬̞͙̪̞̹̳͙͈̼̰̊͜ë̶̺͖̠̦͇̹̦́ỳ̵̨̪̟͇̲̻͈̗̠̪̰̆͒̊̇̈̈̈́̌͌̆'̵̠͎̋̽̏́̽͒͠r̶̡̧̢̨̢̮̹͇͇͉̞̼̼̃̏̉ę̵̮̫̜̥̭͉̰̫̩̇̓̐͘ͅ ̷̨̤̯͇̠̯̽͒̓͂͛̅̈̑̇̀͛̓̅͘͝s̸͖͓͎̞̻̑ṯ̶͖̊̈́͌͝i̶̛̯͓͓̦̫̽̑͗͐́͌̏́͜͝l̷̢̛̪̜͙̭̬͚̓̓̈́̾̅̄͊̊̎̕͜l̸̨̛͕̭̰̥̬̱̀̅̄̍͆̑̄̓̏̊̈́͑̐̿̚̕ ̶̖͖̺̠̺̤̺̬̭̫͓̠͛̎̒̓͂͆͋͌̎̓̍̏͜͝ͅm̸̨̡̹͎͖̅͗͜y̵̢͎̫̲̼̏ ̶̛̝̉́̓̕f̴̡̠̹̿̃ȁ̶̢̨̪̦̮̜͉̘̘̪͉̟̠̟̱̜͈͓͂͒̄͋̐̒̿̐̓̇̈́͌͝ḿ̷̢̨̪̫͙̦͙̖̣̲͈͙͑̔͒̄́́͠ͅi̸̧͓̮̪̋͐͆̎͗̂̽̀͐l̷̜͓̞̗̙̤̟̯̦͉͓͍̰̲̖̞̓́͑̂̏̏͊̅̏̍̈́͑̔̋̂̕͝ÿ̸̡͙́ ̸̜̗̭̼̟̭͖̫́̑͜ͅa̵̦̾̐̾n̶̮͖̝͒̾̾̓̎̌̑͐́̔̽̚͠͠d̷̛̙̏͗̉̔̈́̒͑̍̈́̊͌̐̀͋̈̊͝ ̷̨̡̛̦̤̣͕́̉͗͘Í̴̭͖̝͍̜̗̦̀ ̶̨̩̥͙̭̙̹̪͇̠̩̦̳̩͚̣̔̃̑͐̽̃͐̋͝ͅl̴̨̛͉̯̬̲̜̼̼̣͔̣̳͕̎͐̎̃̆͆̍̇͌̄̕ͅō̶͉͔̯͈̳̠̯̤̹̖͌̆̋̅́̍͋̋͐͗̿͗̕͝͝v̸̡̧͎͕̜̘̓́̄̄̀̊̑ḙ̵̛̘̳͇̾̉̐͑͒̎̈́̍̋̕̕ ̸̱̊̾͐̾̃̀̓̐̎́̽̒͘t̶̡͔̬͔̯̠̬͙͇͈̰̤͒̔̋̇̽̑̽̎̔̈́̑͘͝ḩ̸̙̭̘͓̗̪̪̃e̵͖̙͈͙̥͓̦̹͙̾̌͗̆̿̀̉͌̐̉́̾͑̿̚͠m̷̤̩͙̬̰̘͖̞̠̦̉̈̀͐̃̊̉̐͝͝ ̷̢̧̞͈̋͌̈́̉̍̔͘͠s̵̼̣̦͕͈̻̍̈́́͐̀͌ö̸̦̒͗͗ ̷̧͓̮͇͒̆̄m̵̢͔͈̲̰̍̑͆̆͌̃̓̇̓̓͆͆͠͠͝û̶̠̩͔̻͎̘̠̥̲͎̉͂͘c̶̖͕͈̤̼̝̭͙̩̦̭̲̟̫͕̬̼̊̍̇͌͆͋̓̇̀͛̈́̚͠ͅh̵͈̜̣͈͓̑͑̅̌͒̉͌̑̀̔̚!̶̨̩͔͉͔̎̐̿̐̾̇̓̂̎̾̕͘ͅ ̶̛̘̗͚̝̭͚͉͂̂̐͗̉͋̈́̆̂͝͝͝T̴͓̦͙͍̋̄̉̾͊̐̌̓̏̾ͅe̸̱̘̥̼̟̒̈́̊͑l̶̦̬͋͛̆̅̈́̊̓͊̎͜l̷̡̟̘͇͓̙̻̝̞̯̙̙͕̘̥̈̌̓̀̽ͅ ̴̢̠͈͓̹̱̬̫͙̰̻͕̘̓̄̈́̚F̴̛͓̠̪̑̿̏̔͑̊͌̈́͋̽͝͝l̴͉͇͋̓̀̀̉̋͗́̎ȍ̷̡͈̳̗͓̈́́̊͑̎͐̕w̶̪͙͌̎̇̽͑̉̿̉͊̾͠e̷̡̨̢̧̝̘͈̮̲̦̳̘̤̳͇̱̲͑͑̌̏̿͐̇͊̚͝ý̶̡̢̬͈̦̯͓̠̋͊͠ ̸̨̡͍̱͈̻̲̱̩̳̤̲̟͂͑͒̽̎͑͂̕͝ͅͅI̶̢̜̲̲̖̰͙͎͖̣̭̭̠̭͖̠̊̀͘̚'̷̛͎̫̳̲͂̅́͛̆̂͗̔͐̀̅̔̌̕͜m̸̭̲͉͙̤͎̣͖͖̙̦̻̻͔͉̿̇̔͒̒̍̀̑̄̈́͆͝ ̴̡̡͓̝̖̫͇̠̺̙͉͎̻̻̬̋͋̾̈͑͜ṣ̷̡̡̧̯̣͎͎̹͈͈̬̞̮͆̄̑́̌̔̽̎͗̉̒͝ͅo̶̧̨̠̱̭̮͚̻̪̖̝͂͂̔̍̾̈̾͋͜͜͠͠ͅ ̶̧͇͍̩̞̖̖̽s̵̳̓̈́̃̚̚ǫ̸̞̞̼̟͚͉̻͈͕̮͖̈́̌͒̈͂̚͜r̸̥̝̦̯̙̲͛͛̄̅̐̍̊̿͘͜͝ͅr̶̰̫̒̉̂͆̿̓̀̏̕̕y̸̢̡͖̠̯͍̟̹̩̣̱͈̝̰̟̩̬̯̾ ̷̢̛̰̩̪̰̌̈́̉̓̓̒̊͂̉͂̈̀̕ͅa̴̡̨̧̖̤̬͕͓̎͌͆̈̓̈́͒̋̽͆̚͘͝n̶̬̹͆̐̋͌̃́̊̓́̂͒͘͠ḍ̷̬̀͒͂̿͆͒̈̐̃̽̄̒̓̊͠ ̶̱̺͓̼̮̥̳̦̤͍̊̆̈́̉̀̒̅̑̌̂̅̕̕͠t̶͖̰̺́̉̚e̵̢̧͎̘̘̖̹̬̣̲̖̪͂̄l̵̙̈͌͒̏̈͂͘l̶̨͇͙̮̼̳̎ͅ ̵̛̙̙͙̪͓͖̝̐͂̅̏̄͒̀̈́̂͂̒̀̆̈́̔̌͝M̶̳̟͇͓͓͔͎̘̤̘͉͛̈́̀̂͋̔̿̍o̴̡͔̰͕̘̪̻͉̙͇͎͕̠͗m̴̢̟̟͋͊͂͆̏̔̐̓̊́̇̇̉̕̕ ̶̛̛͙̘̑̽̀́̃̈́͌͐̂̂͒͘ṱ̴̛̩͖͕͙͕̣̖̳̖̮̲͉̮̲͖̾̅͊̊͑̋́̆̚͘͘ḩ̴̦̠̙̦̩̦̝͍͇̖͚̞̫́̑̋́͐̍̀͋͒̈́͆̔͐̏͆̌͝͝ͅa̶̡͍̦̲͉̗̻̞̺̪̮̗̼̹̋́́̔̍̀̎̽̓͑̒̐͊͘̚̕̕͠ͅţ̶͉̠̬͉̗̭̱̭̩̫̈́̽̈́͜ͅ ̶̢̨͈̤͈̙̻͙̫̰͓̽͂̆̇͌͑͒̿̎̊̈͗͆̃̃͝Ĭ̸̞͇̓͑͊̇̆̕͠ ̴̨̛̜̩̬̖̬͎̥̳͖̯̝̞̗̰̬͑̿̇̀͊̇̏̌̓̆̀̓̈́͊̚͜͠l̵̤̭̞̰͛͘ͅͅò̵̡̧̨̢̼͍͎͎̞̬̩̭̣̺̤̜̉̾̒̌̌̽̀͊͝v̸̮͔͚̹̬̅̈́̑̌̅̒ē̸̢̧̢̻̺͍̜͈͕̼̰͓̲̻͔̪̼̉̇́̑̈́͊͐́͆̓̿̚̚͠ ̷̢̧̨̛̦͙̞̗͈̭͇̼̹̘̙̺̤̲̑̾̉̈́̐̒͜h̷̛̫̠̬̣̺͎̟̩̟̘̅̈̓͑̍̉̾̒̇ͅͅę̷̫͖̣͎̪̖̱̫͍̫̦͈̯̙̞̎̒̈́͛̏̾̽͑ͅr̸̢̨̭͍̫̓̑̋̾̈͋̀͌̉̓͂̉̐͝ ̵̮͍͇̬͚̙͎̖͖͓͖͔̞̹͎́͠a̷̠̓̓̐̑́͂̀n̸̼̯͕̞͔̂̊̍̈́̇̀͒͐̓͝ḍ̷̨̝̩̝̲̅͂͑̉̄̽̌͊̑͠͠ ̶̛͙̭͔͍͒͆̈́̒̈́̽̈́̈́̽͝h̴̛̝̫͕͎͚̭̪̪͐̂̚͝ë̴̡̧̧̨̺͖̭̰̟̯̻̟͛͛̓͛͛̂̀́̈́̋͗̚̚͜͝͠͝ͅŕ̴̡̼̳̰͚̱̫̩͓̃̍͂̽̓̃͐̅̀͌̄̍̌ ̴̨̨̖̟͖̰͉͉̖̪̫̙̝͛͑̈́̉̆̕̕͝͝p̵̹̣̤̻͈̩̅i̴͖͚͌̔̽́̐͘ę̵͚̩̬͉͖̖͔͎̜́̓̓͂̐̈́̃̚͝ͅ,̸̧̰̬̳̭̦͔̥̬̪̮̹̽̋̓̋̽̉̄̈͌̇͗͛͌͘͠͝ ̷̛̹̻̝̠͉͚̗̎́́̾̈́͛̉͊͌̓̚ͅä̷̮̲̤̟̯̼̰̙͖̼́̊͂̆̄̊̈́̒͗͗͒͗̔̏̍͘̕ņ̵̡̧̧̞̦̹͕̱̪̥̤̰́̊̒̉̑͘͘̕͘͝͝ḑ̶̡̯͇̱̼͇̼̆̎̒̃̌͛́͑͑̏̄͘͠͝ ̸̨̩͕̣̻̾̃̕t̶̲̑̄̏̍̆̅̌̀̐̊͂ḙ̴̛̬̙̤͉̃̈́̈̅̐̌̋ḽ̸̡̛̛͖̹̘̙̩͚̫̾̃̉͑͆͜l̶̦̲̋̌ ̴̢̠̖͓̻̟͔̲͎̤̳̊̋̿̅̑̋̊̈́̔̉͒͒̄̋͝Ḑ̶̧̫͇̘̭̤͛̎à̵̖̥̝̫͇̯̘̞̜̳̙͈́͜d̵̡͚̗̪͖̬̫̬̠̙̮̬̬̪͉̟͕̽ ̴̲̰̼̣̱̺͊̔̓͐̎͜t̶̛͈͖̩̳͓̦̰̘̯̪̣̑̀̔̄͂͆̕͝ḩ̷̢̜̺͙̤̩̭̲͇̦̫̀̉̍́́͛́̀̉͋͛͜͜͝͝ạ̸̦̖͇̜͛t̵̨͈̰͙̘̙̮̦̠͚͕̻͕͓̬͚̬̋̀̄͗͊̑̏́̊̑̆̐̏̀̉̏͝͝ͅ ̶̢̛̛͔̱̮̼̹͍̖͈͓̱̫͎͔̺̰̣͍̔̔͗͝I̵̲͆̇̐́̌̽̄̃͊'̵̨̡̢̥̻͉̫̲̝̖̗̳͚͓̦̻̉́̈́̾̋̿̿͒͜͝m̵̨̱̺̙̠̠̞̯͍̝̦̱͖͎̗̪͈̙͐̋̅̀̅̋̚ ̷̝̞̬̣͍̟̫͇̺̞̐͌͋̀̾̚s̴̢̟̹̲͙̻̗̯͕̳͇̟̝͓̖͂̋̈́̐́̈́̎̿͋̍̈̿̽̄̑̊̀͘͜ͅo̴͖͖͉̝̣̳̗̞̰͓̣͋ ̶̱͎̻̦̮͚̠̦̲̭̜͒̌̓͑͋́̎̏̒̑̕̚͝͠s̸̺̼̯͎͎̞͓̞͇͐ͅo̷̩̥͔͑r̷̡̥͔͖̥̝̹̙̞̈́͂̑́͌̿͂̋͊̐́̽͊́̚̕̚r̴̛͖͎̥͎̝̍̀̀́́̊͊̏̀͌̂̂̄̅̚͝ͅy̶͙͒̀̂͠ ̵̛̦̥̬͉̻͕͙̩͆͌̂͛f̴̛̯̼̫̯̙͍̱̫̩͚̬̜̣͎́̍̒̅͒̏̒͗̿̆̀̑̚̚o̸̢̢̻̞̗̖͉͎͎̠̼̟̳̹͕͓͐̌̄̃̆̂͋͊͑̾̑̒͑͒̄́͜ŗ̸̢̧̦̤̮̼̩̩̄̍̌͊̈́̓͑̚͜͝ ̶̪̖͉̠̘̙͈̬͇̠͙͍̙̽͑̏̐̓̍̾̅̅̂͑̌̃̕͝͝ͅp̶̙̥̻̬̗̿̍̌̐̀o̵͉̙̞͗̅͛͛̍͋̾͒̐͐͒͛̋̂͜i̸̛̮̬͂̎̅͌͆̊́̎͐̏̑̚͘͠s̵̡̛͍̠̹̥̼͕͖̖̗̜͍̪̥̪̖̰͛͂̾̈́̅̉̐̈͐͘͠͝ơ̸̬̏̃̓͒́͛̾͂̀̋̎̏͑̚͠ṅ̵̟̮̜͇͚̰̼̈́͗̀͑î̸̗͍̼̯̤͈͒̾͊̈́̉̆̓͠ņ̴͇̟̪̓̍̈́͌̀̍̔̔̽̽́̑́̋̅̽̕͝ǵ̸̢̡̢̯̦̹̝̠̱͍͖͓̠̬̲̿ ̴̛̳̗͈͉̳͉͚̥̭͎̞͐̈́̒̊͊̒̏̃̇͋̂̈́͂̚͝ͅh̸̢̞̭̙̝̲͉͇̼̪̝͕̭̜̦̙͎͂͌͊̊̚į̵̧̢͈͚̩͉̳͈̩̼̦̝͈̟̘͉̀͊ṁ̵̨̛̳̬̰͎͖̻̬̜͇͓͔͍̠̣̀̈́̀̉̋̔̏͒̓͛̐͂̕̚͘͜ ̴̢̨̛͙̪̺̱͍͚̃̍͌̂̃̃̎͑̕w̶̧͍͖̘̥̎̈́̽͐͐́͒̐͛̈̽̏̊̉̀͛ĩ̴̤͓̫͙͛̉̿́̏̆̂̚t̸̠͎̫̱̮̳͈̪͓̝̜̖͒͋̾͘̕͘̚ȟ̸̢̜̭̜̖̖̪̲̺̏̆̆̆͂͗͂̿̃̏̈͗̇̚͠ ̸̡̨̨̱͚͕̣̞̫̫͕̭̝̖̒́͜ͅt̸̡̛̛͓̞̞̱̤̳̝̼̍̉̎̉̓̋̔̒͂̉͗̂̕͠͝h̵̳̠͆͆͆̀̊͐̏̀͝e̵̬͍͓̘̎̿͜ͅ ̶͇͎͖̊f̵̡̡̢̛̛̰͔̼͇͔̫̳͕̤̥͕̩̎͊͗͐͑̓͊́̃̊̇̒͘̕͠l̵̡͙̮̪̪͍͎͚͊̂̅̑͌͛̂͝ọ̵͖͍̺͉̌͛̌̏̈́̍̅̀̍̚͝w̶̨̡̝̪̬͍̤̪͚̙͚̱̣̋̾̃̈́͆͜e̷̬͖̾̏̓͒̀̊̋͆͋̂͒͊̽͆͝͝͠r̸̞͎͚̙͇͇̭̄͆̀̑̊͛̔́̀͝s̵̨̲̞̻͙̪̫͉̭͇̫̮͇̣̼̾ͅ.̸̢̯͕̬̤̹͉͚̬͚̮̫̟̪̺͐́̏͋̈́̿͝ͅ ̶̛̀̓̍̾̏̽͐͌̎͜͝I̷̲̦̺̼̻͐̀̌̉̀̉̆̓̉̏̄̋̐̄̎̊͑̍ ̴̞̃̐̆̋̓̎̈́̀͊̊̏̇͘͘w̵̪͓̳̱̥̗̼̠̮̓̈́́̓̈͒̉̆̒̉͘ö̶̡̯̬͕̳̬͓̜̗͖͖̺̞̼͕́͑̐̇͂̓͐̿̄̌̍̍̈́̑̌͊́̚ü̴̜̘͈͚̣͇̙̹̥̟̣͂̀̀͗̎͘͜͜l̶̡̛͍͓͓͕̾̽̇̈́̀̃̀̑̈́͌̉̕̚d̶̢̪̹͕͍̼͎͊̌̉̾̔̀̄̈'̶͓͖̪̑͒̄͆͆̋̍̈́͑̚͘͜͝v̸̢̡̧̮̝̜̜̫̮̭̬̲͈͖̲͙̈́͋̿̈́̏́͐̂̊̕̚̚e̵̯̺͎̯̩̻͒̔̀̚͠ͅ ̵̙̻͍̘̖̩̞̈́̒̊̀s̴͓͍̗̺̍̀̅͜t̷͇̞̹̮̞͂̋̇̓̃̅̈́̉̚̕͠o̴̢̼̗̤̞̤̳̘̳̫͌̐͐̈́̓͗́͊͌͆̉͘͝p̴̡̛̤̱̪̞̆͒͑̈̀͒̔̔̂̄̈́̚͘͠ͅp̵̨̡̨͉͉̲̦̲͖͎͔̤̯̜͖͕̬͓͗̔̌͛̈̂̈́͝e̸̤̫̪̫̭̲̝͎̰̓̆͊̒̍̀͛̓͑̇̄̒̚͘͜͝ḑ̷̻̙̜̠̯͖͍̦̼͍͛̌͛͊̈́̎̐̋̒͗̕ ̴̺͕̑́͌͗̓ț̸̺̞̤̘̱̯͙̺̏̋̈́̈́̊̓̔͋͆̅̓̐h̷̰̮͈͓̮͐͝ȉ̴̟̲̤̣̳̙̗̹̟̬̠̪̇̋̌̎̓̎̒͆̎̏̈́̕͜͝s̸̞͙̭̜̺͑͗̍̓͊̀̾̅̈́̈͘̚͜͜ͅ ̵͚̤͍̝̮͓͙̻̗̳̬͇͇́̈́͛̃͛͜i̶̧͙͕̦̬͓̦̺̻̺͔̗̗͌̍́͑͒̾͌̒̽̈́̂́͛̿̑̎̐͜ͅf̸̡͉͇̯̗͎̤̻̼̓͗̓͠͝ ̴̼͍̙̪̹̤̟̻͕̬̳̀͜ͅİ̶̢̱̣̲̫̙̩̘̠̫̭͒͒̑̊͝ ̴̧̛̱͓̫̯̰͎͇̺̑͐̆͆̉͒̀̽͆ͅc̴̬͎̖̘͍̣̗̯͚̱͇͚̮͓̐̎̈́͘͝ô̵̡̫̣̩͇̮͚̝̙̱̐͌͑͗͝u̸̧̨̙͕͓̣͔͕͇̪͎̖̘̝͙̤̼͂́̈̑̉͗̚l̵̡̛̼̦̘͉̺̺̗̭̻̜̤͛͛̎̈͌̒̍͂͐͑̀͘̕͝͠ḑ̶͎̻͍̪̱̅̒̋͗̄̿͑̋̐̽͑̐͊̎̍͘͘͝!̵̡̻͔̹̮̬̫̜͑̆͂͛͋”

Chara sobbed as they squeezed their arms and sat on the ground, attacks phasing through them as they watched the fight helplessly.

“Frisk, buddy, pal, amigo, friend, my compadre... Are you sure you wanna mess around with multi-verse stuff? I don't think the other Skelebros are gonna take your threat lying down.”

“They’re nothing compared to me.” Frisk said, cackling like the maniac they were.

“How much therapy is Red gonna need after learning someone wrote smut of him and Jerry?”

“No amount of therapy will ever make this moment ok.” Red said, whining as Blue gave a very pouty look at where the sound was coming from.

“Wait I just realized Maxie forcibly hugged Error just to mess with him, that is messed up. You ask and respect his no, the guy has a touch issue. Don't bully the Error!”

“He’s been getting better, and I rarely do it. And I’m not that mean to him, Nightmare would find a way to kill me if I did.” Maxie said, pointing at Nightmare as he agreed. Not looking up from his spot on the ground.

“Nightmare, what are you and the rest of the multiverse going to do during the fight with Frisk?”

“We’re on standby in case they need help. But they’ve got this.” Nightmare said,

“Frisk, why do you hate humans so much? Did your family hurt you? Did you have a family? why betray the nicest souls you may ever meet? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you.” Frisk said, small tears welling up in their eyes as they tried to killer Dust.

“Let me make one thing clear, Error better not get hurt or I will raise hell.”

“As will everyone.” Nightmare said, smirking.

error do you watch undernovela in this version of the multiverse?

“Yes I do. It is amazing.” Error said, winking as he smiled.

“error what do you think of people who ship you and ink”

“I’m sure it’s ok in alternate multiverses, but I will forever see them as weird.” Error said, walking up to face Frisk.

“to sans frisk and chara what do you think off your respective stronger than yous”

“I like it.” Classic said, “I actually listen to it every now and then.”

"̴̠̣̉͒F̵̩̆̿̿r̶̦̹̭̄i̸̡̫̖̩̞̐͗s̶̤̗͎̼̪̆͘k̶̳̘͌̎ ̸̞̙̪̱̓͝a̵̞͑͑n̸̺̹̭̽̊̆̎̕͜ͅd̷̤̰̒͘ ̵̱̓̀̉I̵̖͕̖̓ ̶͖̤̙͙͆̄n̸͖͕͐̒̋̂̇ë̴̻́̏ë̸͖͍̦͜͜d̸͔̩̠̿̒ ̴̥̪̣͙͑̋t̸͍̰̱̲̅̽̈́̚͜͠o̸̮͒ ̵̹̭͓̠͒s̶̼̀̐͗͆͌w̷̤̬̳̱̗̽̄a̵̖̻͇̳͛͐͘p̵̪͔̒͆ ̸̢̊s̶̮̎̕̕o̸̟̘̹̹͊n̷͉̭̩̲̘̐̿͊g̷͙̗̑s̵̗̭̠̉̐́̇.̴͉̭̠̀̿͐̈́͂ ̵̡̻̘̩͔͂́͋͌T̸̗̋̓̇̈͝h̵͙̠̭̪̾̂̈͒o̶̻̖̳̓̈́̽̂̿ȗ̵͎̤̪̺̈́͘͠g̶̡͎͋͂h̷͖͍̏̾̾̿͝ ̷̙̥̼͇̓́s̵͖̙̈́́̈́̀̕į̶̖͎̰̾̅ṋ̸͖̟̈́͘c̶̠̜͇̖͐͊̈́͘͝ę̷͛̿͝͠ ̵̧̙͍̲̐̾t̸̟͑̄h̷̬̳̬̩͓̉͒̾̐ẽ̵͍̗͉̩̇̀y̵͉̺͎̒̿ ̴͇̩̭͗͊͐̾͜ò̷̫͈͙͉̓̎ͅn̷̦̤̟͓̈̌͘l̸̨̘͈̱̎y̷̥͆̄ ̶̥̭͓̲̔͗̂̊̈́ȩ̶̻̊͌v̷̜͙̠̝͂̿ȩ̸̛̦͓̞͛̄͘ȑ̴̪̗̪͋̃͝ ̸̖̭̜̏̍͠m̵̟̥̲̈̃̋̕e̸̛̺͉͎̝̼͐̅̑̕ę̷̡̼̭̰͊͒̃̾t̵̟̰͎̪̬͋̔ ̸̩̒m̶̢̛̟̤͓̠͆̒̚͠e̷̡̢̯̹̐̍̀ ̵̫͍͉͑̇̈́a̸̦͠t̷̛̻̙̝͇͔̓͐̉̚ ̵̜̬͈̰̟̌ṃ̷̗̞͎̾y̸̝̻̳̱͐͒̉̎ ̷̝̇͒͂w̴̙̣͚̞͒͛̊ȏ̴̧̞̞̣̓̕r̶̥͆ͅͅs̴͇̞̐̀̏͑̉͜t̶̳͠,̴͕̰̞͂̓̀͠͠ ̴̢͍̲͒͌̈́I̶͔͇͍̅ͅ ̵̨̥̼͒͆̓͠ç̵̗͇͚̈a̶͓̘͍̥̍̾̀̓͝n̴̬͍̞͈͐́̄̚͠'̴̞̑́̑̊͠t̸̥̙̔̊̈ ̴̢͚̟͆̀́̓͝b̴̢̛͕̦̎̄̀l̴͍̄a̸̛̻͇͇̲͋̆͠m̷̖̳͍̠̈͑e̶͈̩̅ ̵͇͇͖̜̖̓̌t̷͓͍͖̖͛̋̂̍͘ḧ̸̖́̋e̶̲̦̐̆̂̉́ ̶̰̈́̓̀ẅ̵̡͖͖͍̯̃̆̄͠r̴͓̪̥͍̐̎i̶̙̲̗̮̘͊̕͘t̴̗̳̫̏ȅ̸̜̞͑r̸̛̪͕̞͓̣̊͐̒̕s̴͚̿̊̑̋.̵̖̩̼̟̿̅̋ ̴̪̗̀͊̈́Ť̸̼̼h̶̛͖͖̝͌͠ḛ̸̉̒̈́͋̕ỳ̵̝̾̓̾̋ ̵͚̠̂̔ș̴̛͙͇̗̉̌̕̕o̶̦̯͆͑̇̔n̴͔͎̽̅̎g̵̮̗̖͆s̷̟͈̹͔̖̓̚͝ ̷̯̥͚̤̅a̴̡̙̻͓̕̚r̷̡̡͓̩̀e̸͙̙̾̍ ̷̮͗̑̈́̄ŗ̴̂́͘ȩ̴̲̗̝̹̀̾̏͑̄ã̶̻̘͛̈̾ͅl̷̖̲͙̈̄͗͝l̸͙̠̎̇̐y̸̨̻͍̻̾͝ ̶͓̹̓g̵͍̙̃̔ͅợ̶͍̙͐̚o̴͎͍͔̎̐d̸̢̺̄́ ̶̦̱̣̳̎̇͠t̶̲͓͒̀̈͋h̴̢̥̠͈̣̀̈́̽̅o̷̡̧͖̔̋̐u̸̙͐͐̅͒g̷̺̖̘̬̀͑̎̕h̶̹̦̳͔̾͐͌.̴̟̉̉̑͝"̴̢̛̼̞͊̉͋͛

Chara said as they smiled at Frisk’s miserable state.

“frisk what do you think of tEMMIE pls stop kill tem”

“Temmie is an annoying abomination.” Frisk said, looking at Error as they grinned.

Next - Pending

#my multiverse #ask_event #sans #papyrus #toriel #asgore #alphys #dark sanses #frisk #flowey #maxie #underswap sans #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #swapfell sans

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