#^ uses the most unhealthy coping mechanisms imaginable

[thebubblybutcher]

When's the last time you cried?

"i haven't cried since i was 6! :)"

[imbecominggayer]

Writing Traumatic Backstories

Hello,it's me again! Sorry for dissappearing, I wanted a short little break from Tumblr. Obviously, I should have clearly communicated that fact instead of just going cold turkey!

From @differentnighttale : "How do I write characters who deal with severe trauma and pain with sensitivity and understanding"

Obviously with our topic today, there is going to be mentions of traumatic events and such. I won't go into any graphic or specific details but I just wanted to make it clear with a trigger warning

Since this lovely asker is specifically asking about sensitivity, I won't be addressing other related concerns about writing trauma but just focusing on this clear sensitivity! GET READY CAUSE THIS IS LONG!

Step One: Specificity Is Everything

You need to understand that various different traumatic instances will have their own different reactions based around various different incidents depending on what exactly happened and how many times it happened.

In general, the more times something happened, the more likely it would be leave an imprint. Obviously this is an oversimplification for the sake of an explanation :)

For abuse situations and other person vs person situations:

Consider the relationship your character has with this abuser! Is it obsessive? Neglectful? Don't just say it was a bad relationship! Describe to yourself what behavior and attitude specifically made this an unhealthy situation.

Did the abuser use any repetitive imagery? Did they use a specific tool most often? Did the abuse center on something specific? This can help guide you towards what can "trigger" this character!

What are the long-term affects this abusive situation have on this character? Did it make them question and distrust their self-worth, their safety, their identity, their body, their stability? Anything?

Was this abuser always bad? I don't mean in the "good person gone bad" route! I mean "is this character always abusive"? Most abusers aren't horrible 24/7 and can have their better sweeter moments. This often leaves their victims confused since the victims know more then anyone that this person wasn't just plain evil.

For natural disasters and accidents:

Where is the blame? Is it nature herself? Themself for not being careful enough? A real legitimate person who genuinely caused this accident? An imaginary individual that had no relationship?

What is the specific fear that this situation ignites? Is it this crushing feeling of isolation as they were suffering with no expectation of help? Is it the realization that life is out of their control which keeps them awake at night? Is it the chaos of that day? The fear of regret? The fear of death?

Answering these questions can often illuminate different ways to approach a character's traumatic backstory in unique and interesting ways. It also highlights potential coping mechanisms for your character.

Step Two: What Exactly Is Trauma's Effect On The Brain?

Remember: The following analogy is an oversimplified explanation of trauma. Afterward, the science explain-y part will come in :)

Imagine that the brain is an archive system. It gathers memories and puts away those memories under certain files. Then, the traumatic event(s) happen. Suddenly, the brain is unable to properly understand this. This causes the boss prefrontal cortex turns off. Now, the assistant is forced to take over. This assistant doesn't know what to do so they just do what they always do! Unfortunately, this fails to pacify the threat. And now the brain is mixing up all of the trauma's documents in an effort to just shove it into a filing cabinet. It doesn't work. Now everything new that arrives in needs to try and work through the trauma documents which are taking up the place!

SCIENCE PART!

During traumatic events, the "fear circuity" is activated. This causes the prefrontal cortex or the "decision-maker" to function less effectively. This causes a person goes into auto-pilot mode where they follow social habits.

This is why a person in a traumatic situation will sometimes engage in polite behavior with their abuser in an effort to "save face" as they typically do in social situations!

These events often physically mpact the brain! Specifically, in relation to learning and survival!

Advice In Order To Avoid Common Tropes:

Trauma is a highly complicated subject that is highly individualized and messy. But here are some "no fly" lists which often lead to traumatized characters appearing inauthentic and real traumatized people insulted.

Don't solve trauma in one conversation or one event. Working through trauma is ultimately about "moving on" in the sense of constantly moving forward but not leaving the trauma behind.

Don't romanticize certain coping mechanism. Oftentimes, media will have a hypersexual girl who learned to be hypersexual for trauma reasons. But this character doesn't exist so we can understand them. They exist for sexual appeal and tragedy brownie points.

Only include traumatic events if you can handle exploring them. If you aren't willing to deal with the implications of a certain backstory or serious mid-story event, don't write it in there.

Don't make it entirely resolved by the end. Recovery isn't about learning to "get rid" of the affect trauma has on someone. It's about working with those issues so you can learn to not drown in your issues.

Don't make the journey linear. Have your character relapse into bad unhealthy behavior. Make them have to struggle to relearn the same lessons again and again. It'll make the journey far more interesting and realistic.

Don't make bad coping mechanism black and white. Bad coping mechanisms were necessary once upon a time. They are good tools that have lived past their usefulness but they aren't illogical or evil.

Don't excuse bad behavior. Traumatic backstories offer an explanation of a character's behaviors but it doesn't make a character's actions okay.

They aren't just traumatic backstory. Oftentimes, they only thing we ever learn about a character is their deep issues and facade. But real traumatized people aren't just defined by the bad things that happen to them. They had dreams, goals, and friends that aren't pure tragedy.

They are people. While people are definitely defined by their trauma, don't make them think only of their trauma. People with sad backstories aren't more special then people who don't. They have stupidly weird behaviors, they have hobbies that aren't related to their issues. Don't make them think of just the bad stuff.

[anthurak]

Continuing my analysis and theorizing on Asmodeus, Mammon and the rest of the Deadly Sins of Helluva Boss and their backgrounds, characterization and where the show might be taking them, I’ve been thinking about what their expressions of their respective ‘Sins’ might truly represent for their characters. Both in the way they express it and even the whole reason they express a ‘Sin’ in the first place.

Now assuming that all of the Sins are Fallen Angels just like Lucifer, and their presence in Hell is a result of their expulsion from Heaven, and Hell being the new home they’ve built for themselves;

What if their expression of each of their ‘sins’ is a metaphorical or even outright literal trauma coping mechanism?

Like given what we’ve seen so far of how Vivzie and her team approach and interpret the ideas of Hell and Heaven, I think it’s all too easy to imagine them framing the ‘fall’ of the seven sins to be a truly horrific event that left all of them with massive emotional and mental scars and trauma. Like getting kicked out by the universe’s most controlling, rigid, conservative and violently judgmental family.

So what if the whole reason that Asmodeus, Mammon, Beelzebub and the rest started expressing and embodying their respective ‘sin’ was as a way of processing and coping with their trauma?

And of course, there are healthy ways of dealing with trauma, and unhealthy ways as well. Which I think is the true difference between the Sins.

Basically, Ozzie and Bee found healthy ways of processing and coping with their trauma, while Mammon DIDN’T.

More specifically, we see with both Ozzie and Bee that they are able to manage their ‘sin’ (ie; coping mechanism) so that it doesn’t become harmful to themselves or others: Bee is acutely aware of and concerned when someone is overindulging to the point of self-harm, while Ozzie strongly stresses the importance of consent when it comes to sex.

Mammon meanwhile, clearly has zero management or restraint over his ‘sin’. I think it’s all too plausible that Mammon’s obsession with wealth and attention for his ‘brand’ is deep-down a way for him to distract himself from some deeply repressed pain and trauma. Thereby showing how a coping mechanism can become harmful not just for oneself, but others as well.

And the best part is that even with the little we know of them at this point, I think we can already guess that Belphagor, Satan and Leviathan could display/represent other means of coping with trauma, either healthy or harmful.

We know that Belphagor runs Hell’s pharmaceutical business, so I think we can all agree that could easily be a way to show how medication can either help or harm in dealing with trauma. Satan being the Sin of Wrath could represent how anger can be used as a coping mechanism, while he apparently running a workout app could hint to him using fitness as a coping mechanism. And Leviathan being associated with social media of course has all kinds of potential to the show the good and bad ways THAT can be used to deal with trauma.

Over the course of its run thus far, Helluva Boss has shown itself to be in large part a story about dealing with trauma, with practically all of the primary and secondary characters having arcs heavily influenced or even outright defined by their struggles with past trauma. Blitzo, Moxxie, Loona, Stolas, Fizzerolli, Barbie Wire, even more minor or antagonistic characters like Octavia, Verosika and Striker. ALL of these characters have been shown grappling with past pain and trauma, with almost all showing that they are coping with their trauma in either a healthy or unhealthy manner.

Whether Moxxie recognizing that it is his father who is at fault for all the pain he went through and not himself, Fizzerolli finding a loved one who has helped him cope or Barbie Wire simply spending a long time in therapy to show the positive ways people can deal with their trauma. Or conversely, Loona’s closed-off, angry and generally anti-social defense mechanism, Stolas trying to throw himself into a relationship he doesn’t fully understand, or just… EVERYTHING that Blitzo has going on to show the harmful ways people can deal with trauma.

So I’d say it really only makes sense that with how the show has also taken steps to ‘humanize’ the Sins, that this theme of exploring how people deal with deep-seeded pain and trauma would likewise extend to them as well.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Including Sunlight

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 4

Series Masterlist             Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

warnings: swearing, fluff, Frank having unhealthy coping mechanisms

a/n: I'm so sorry that this update is late, everyone! I've had a wacky month and it has completely thrown me off. Huge shout out to @xxdrixx for reminding me (again XD) to post what I'd written, and to my loves @madschiavelique and @gracethyomen for helping me plot the upcoming angst arc!!!

w/c: 5.9k

You hadn’t known Frank for very long, but that didn’t stop him from becoming a necessary fixture in your life. Needing Frank was similar to needing light, or fresh air. Sure, you could go without it for a bit, but it would drastically reduce the quality of your life. 

Two days into his “business trip” (which you assumed was a cover for some illegal shenanigans because what sort of freelance construction worker has business trips), you were missing Frank something awful, and it seemed like Max was too. Though you’d tried your best to stick to the existing routine Frank had explained to you, the dog would get mopey in the evenings, laying his head on your lap with a dramatic sigh as he stared longingly towards the door. 

Frank hadn’t so much as sent an emoji since his departure, a fact that highlighted his already glaring absence. You had no idea if he was even alive, but you refused to go down that path knowing you’d never make it out of that endless anxiety spiral. Hoping not to bother him while he was away, you’d refrained from reaching out. Until Max’s heavy sighs were too much for you to bear. 

“I’ll see what I can do, buddy.” You promised, pulling out your phone and taking a picture of his pouting face. 

Sending Max’s sulking portrait off to your stoic neighbor, you included a message. 

You: I think he misses you. Hope you made it safely. ❤️

You were about to set your phone down, not expecting him to respond, but your phone buzzed immediately. 

Frank: Sorry, bud. He behaving for you?

You: He’s being a perfect gentleman. Please come back to us in one piece. 

Frank: Cross my heart. 

Smiling at the fluttery sensation in your chest, you set your phone down and resumed petting the pitbull taking up residence on your lap. 

Come back to us. A poor imitation of your melodic voice played throughout his brain on a loop as he got settled in the motel and began recon. It had been hours since you’d texted him and Frank couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not that he could ever stop thinking of you; the only thing that had kept him going through the bland, cross-state drive was the knowledge that he had you to return to.

And didn’t that terrify him. The knowledge that he had forged a connection valuable enough to anchor him on bad days should have triggered his factory reset. Cut all ties, change home and job, never look back. But you made him weak–sapping the resolve out of him with your doe eyes and intoxicating personality. He’d never be able to leave you like that, even if his proximity to you would get you killed.

Gritting his teeth, he began disassembling his rifle for the umpteenth time, hoping the familiar rhythm would provide an opportunity for his mind to claw its way out of the paranoid spiral it was currently parachuting down. Because it would do him no good to imagine the ways this could all fall apart. The high that your genuine care ignited in him was a hard one to shake, and he craved your affection more than any drug. 

Frank was no stranger to being forgotten, hell, most days he wished for it. Disappearing into the shadows made his work easier and it had helped him prevent situations like this, like you, in the past. Yet here he was, three states away, feeling desired and significant because of four little sentences of fucking text. You were a goddamn miracle. 

Placing the final piece of his weapon back into its place, he drew his hands towards himself, examining them. Given the nature of his work, both legal and less than, the skin was rough and littered with impressive callouses. Streaks of gun oil, dirt, and general grime lingered on the pads of his fingers and under his nails, a testament to the indelicacy of his job. How could he allow himself to touch you with these hands?

How could the universe allow him to indulge in something so pure, after what he’d done? 

He’d given you his name, his real one, but there was no way you knew the extent of his crimes against the people in your city–if you did, you’d surely never speak to him again. Before meeting you, he’d never questioned his choices. Wiping the murderous, sex-trafficking and drug-dealing scum from the face of the Earth was his purpose, and he lived it with pride. Pulling the trigger, releasing bullet after bullet into the chest of some criminal douchebag, it was the only reason he had the energy to keep going after the loss of his family. 

But the violence, that he’d made peace with, it separated him from the rest of society, kept him from forming attachments with people as delicate as you. Not to mention, you valued an honesty he couldn’t provide, and a stable relationship would require it…not that he was intending on pursuing that with you. Right?

Sighing wearily, he pinched the bridge of his nose, heart pummeling his ribcage. You deserved to know the truth about who he was and what he’d done, but Frank wasn’t sure he possessed the courage to break that news to you, to risk losing you forever. 

Shifting uneasily on the fraying wicker chair, Frank studied a chip in the faux wood of the table he was seated at. Rubbing a thumb over the exposed plastic, he pondered his next move. His short recon session had verified Madani’s hunch that the arms dealers operated after dark, like most criminals, but sitting around the dingy motel room until then was a one-way ticket to insanity. 

As if his body was pitying his moment of unprecedented indecision, his stomach growled ferociously. Fuck, he could use a decent meal and a hot cup of coffee. Plucking his keys and handgun from the nightstand, he shoved his arms into a black canvas jacket before braving the outside world. 

Digging your glove-covered fingers into the laminated dough, you folded it over itself a few times before placing it back in its designated proofing bin to rise. Taking another lump of the yeasted mixture into your grasp, you savored the pleasant cushiony feeling beneath your hands as you worked, the slightly fermented smell of raw bread swirling around the kitchen as you flipped the mass. 

Your heart thumped serenely as you kneaded the dough at a steady pace, creating a beautiful rhythm you were more than familiar with. It was music, of a sort; the pulse in your ears acting as the bass while the cacophony of rattling spice jars and cracking eggshells composed unique melodies unlike anything else. 

Life was complicated, but food was simple. Customizing pastries and generating new recipes was an outlet for any emotion you could dream of. Tugging at the strands of dough helped soothe the tension in your shoulders, a symptom of the intense restlessness you’d been feeling since Frank left. Though his text had confirmed that he was alive, you couldn’t help but wallow in a feeling of gut-wrenching regret as you lived without him. If something happened to him out there, you’d never be able to tell him–

Shaking your head fiercely to clear the anxious thoughts from your mind, you raced to the walk-in, once again pouring your jittery energy into a recipe rather than letting your composure erode into nothing. Stabilizing the precarious tower of ingredients you’d stacked with your chin, you tread cautiously over to a clean station, unceremoniously dumping the contents onto the steel bench before popping your head out to the front. 

“Stace, you want somethin’ to eat?” You called to the girl, who was currently standing by the register on her phone. 

“What are you making?” She barely lifted her head with the question and her ambivalence made you snort. 

“Oh, you know, same old.”

With a small shrug, Stacy nodded. “Sure, why not.” 

Grinning, you ducked back into the kitchen and popped the lid off of the industrial blender, quickly whipping up two vibrantly colored and impeccably garnished bowls for the pair of you. Passing a spoon to Stacy, you smiled as she dug in eagerly.

“What, you didn’t eat breakfast this morning?” You giggled, reveling in the way her eyes lit up as she ate. 

“Had a feeling you’d be cooking up a storm today.” Stacy replied, tilting her head at you knowingly. “You tend to do that when you’re mopey, and I’m never opposed to a free meal.”

Rolling your eyes, you huffed in defiance. “I’m not ‘mopey’.” 

“No?” Your dark-haired friend smirked. “That’s why you’re staring at that stupid bowl like it killed your family?” 

Ignoring her pointed look, you angled the bowl slightly differently before pulling out your phone. 

“It’s a pretty meal. I wanted to take a picture.” You reasoned, snapping a few photos of the deep violet mixture. 

“To send to lover boy?” Stacy snorted, wiggling her eyebrows at you. 

“No! I mean, maybe, I guess. I mean—“ You spluttered and Stacy laughed boisterously. “Shut up!!” Pouting, you shoved your phone back into the pocket of your apron and stuck a spoon into your breakfast. 

“C’mon, princess, don’t let my teasing interrupt your pitiful flirting attempts. I’m sure he wants to hear from you.” Stacy’s expression was nonchalant, as always, but her gaze softened when your shoulders slumped. “I’m serious. He’s like, embarrassingly into you.” 

“I think you might be confused about which of us is ‘embarrassingly into’ the other.” You whined, burying your face in your hands. 

“Oh you’re pathetically head over heels for him too, that’s why you have no game.” 

Scoffing, you shoved at her shoulder. “You know what, I don’t need to be insulted like this. Get out of my kitchen.”

“It’s not insulting, it’s true!” She chuckled, eating the remaining few bites of her food as you struggled to force her out the double doors. 

“Out, out, out!” You panted, finally getting her across the threshold. 

The whoosh of air from the batwing doors blew stray hairs from your face, giving you pause. Did it matter why you reached out to him? He seemed to appreciate it…

“Fuck it.” 

Frank turned the cheap off-white mug in his hands, letting the quickly fading warmth seep through the material and into his palms as he looked out the streaky window. A gray hue had settled over the rural town he was camped out in, courtesy of the building storm on the horizon. The clouds mimicked his mental state, growing darker by the minute as the world remained stagnant. 

A low buzz caught his attention, his hand shooting out to stop his phone from vibrating off of the table. Flicking the screen open, his heart swelled with affection, like a ray of sunshine peeking through the barrier in the sky. 

You: *image* It’s official, I’m becoming a hipster. I was more concerned about this photo than eating my breakfast.

Not attempting to hide his smile, Frank shoved his empty cup aside to free his thumbs. 

Frank: Well, it looks so good, I might have to forgive you. What is it?

You: A smoothie bowl, very easy to make and quite tasty.

Frank: Never had one of those before. Looks good though, sunshine.

You: Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll make you one sometime.

Frank inhaled deeply, imagining that you were nearby and he could smell your soft vanilla soap. The thought of you cooking for him upon his return warmed his heart while simultaneously cracking it in two. He missed you dearly. Drawing his forearms into his chest, he took a picture of his own food, frowning at the grainy quality of the picture as it sent.

Frank: It ain’t as pretty as yours, but I’m eating breakfast myself.

The remnants of a stack of bland pancakes and some tough bacon paled in comparison to the gorgeous, speckled smoothie thing you’d sent him. Why it was in a bowl and not a cup, he wasn’t sure, but clearly you knew what you were doing so who was he to judge? A few seconds passed and Frank briefly wondered if he’d said something wrong. Before he could preemptively apologize, another bubble appeared on the screen.

You: Glad you are able to feed yourself without my help. I was starting to wonder…

Frank: Oh shut up, you goof. I do miss your cooking though.

You: Just my cooking?

His fingers hovered over the glass display, his brain scrambling for a response that didn’t reveal just how gone he was for you. In the end, he couldn’t find one.

Frank: Not just your cooking, honey. I have some work to do, but take care of yourself and Max for me, will you? 

You: Of course, Frankie. Have a good day :)

Frank: You too, sunshine.

Clicking the power button on his phone, Frank flipped it over, settling his head against his rough hands and massaging his forehead. Coward.

The shrill ringing of his alarm shattered the remnants of his uneasy slumber. Whipping his arm out from under the sheets, he stopped the piercing noise with a frustrated growl. Sitting up was a process, thanks to the new bullet wounds in his shoulder and hip—a true testament to how sideways yesterday night had gone. Madani’s brief had implied that this would be a cut and dry operation. Get in, confirm the sale, contact her team, leave. He’d been given strict orders to not shoot unless absolutely necessary. 

Which was a great plan, in theory. Frank was more than on board with it, even if the whole “no shooting” thing lengthened the process. If it kept him on Madani’s good side, and still managed to get him home before Lisa’s birthday, he could live with it. 

Apparently, the rookie member of Madani’s team was not so thrilled with Frank “stealing” so much of the glory. After Frank’s recon session and subsequent confirmation of the sale, the former Marine was about to call for backup when a scrawny 20-something kid darted into the dark warehouse after the arms dealers, holding nothing but a goddamn glock. Anticipating bloodshed, Frank was grumbling and sprinting after him before the gunshots started. 

Pulling the kid out by the straps of his ill-fitting bullet-proof vest was a task Frank managed by the skin of his teeth, procuring two moderate injuries in the process. Of course, the knowledge that the FBI was on their tail sent the arms dealers into a frenzy. Frank was sure they’d crossed state lines before Madani was even done screaming. Honestly, he half expected the poor woman to have steam coming out of her ears–she’d cussed at the kid with words even Frank considered impolite. 

Not that he could blame her, he was fuming all the same, especially when Madani had explained that he wasn’t off the hook for the mission and should head back to the motel to await further instructions. As if he was reliving it, the conversation that followed played in his head on a loop, their screaming match echoing off the walls of his brain. 

“For fuck’s SAKE, Madani, I did what you wanted–why should I be punished for the stupidity of this asshole?”

“Oh, he’ll be dealt with, believe me. But the agreement was to get Roshev and Miller into my custody. Not give my team a half-assed warning and head back to New York scot free.”

“Half-assed–you’re fucking joking. I had to ditch the objective to rescue YOUR DAMN AGENT.”

“Go back to your room, Frank. I won’t ask again.”

“You’re not–”

“That’s an ORDER, Castle.”

So here he was: waking up on a shitty mattress, his skin and hair still streaked with dirt and blood (because the crappy water pressure and freezing temperature had infuriated him to the point that he’d cut his shower short after cleaning his wounds), in pain and in desperate need of a better cup of coffee than anyone around here was capable of brewing. 

On top of that, it was his dead daughter’s 18th birthday–a fact that hung over him like a cloud of poisonous gas, slowly squeezing the air from his lungs, and he was powerless to stop it. He wanted to scream, to cry, to grieve for her, to do something, anything–but instead he was fucking stuck here, beneath Madani’s thumb until she tired of him. 

It was naive to think that he’d be home today, maybe drinking coffee that you had made specifically for him, bringing flowers to the cemetery, taking Max for a walk, trying to have a quiet day in Lisa’s memory instead of waiting around to deal with two scumbags who got paid to arm other criminals. He should have just shot them.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a rough hand, he stalked to the bathroom to clean up–given that a man covered in blood would probably scare the poor waitress at the diner down the street shitless. As he was rubbing a towel through his hair, his phone buzzed–presumably with a curt message from Madani about something else he’d done wrong. Groaning internally, he braced himself for another argument, but it never came. 

Instead, his phone had an unopened message from you. Flicking open the home screen, he felt a weight fall off his shoulders as he pulled up the photo you’d attached. 

It was a beautiful picture of you holding a basket of vibrantly colored cherries in the midst of some sort of farmer’s market. Your delicate features were highlighted by an array of pinks and oranges, courtesy of the sunrise in the background. Your smile was bright, your eyes sparkling as you beamed at the camera. 

Your first message was a simple explanation of your morning activities. 

You: It’s market day! I bought these gorgeous cherries to make some tarts. I’ll save you one ;)

As he was rereading the message, allowing his general irritation to fade as thoughts of you flooded his brain, his phone vibrated again. 

You: Thinking of you today. I’m just a text away if you need anything ❤️

Sinking down onto the motel bed, his throat constricted as he processed the sentiment. He was surprised that you remembered today was hard for him, even more so that you offered to be a line of support. But that was exactly who you were, wasn’t it? Someone who cared so deeply for the people around her, and for some fucking reason that included Frank. 

Typing and retyping a response to you, Frank blew out a breath. He felt almost…jittery. 

Frank: Thanks, sunshine. That means a lot. I’m looking forward to that cherry tart when I get back. 

You: I’ll make you as many as you want, Frankie. 

Lips twitching, he imagined you whirling around your kitchen in one of your signature patterned dresses making him a special batch of pastries. His heart squeezed painfully; your absence was taking a toll on him that he had not expected. Before he could consider his next message to you, Madani’s number flashed on the screen, indicating an incoming call. Lips curling into a silent snarl, he answered. 

“What, Madani?” He rumbled out.

“Well, good morning to you too, sunshine.” Her response wasn’t meant to dig under his skin, she simply meant it as a superficial jab, but the inclusion of the pet name he associated with you ignited a white hot anger in his gut, feral and hungry. 

“The fuck do you want,” He bit out. 

“Watch your tone, Castle. Remember who owes whom a favor here.”

Rolling his eyes, he brought out a more polite tone. “Yes, ma’am.”  

She huffed across the line, “Fuck you too. We found them. I’ll send the coordinates now.” 

“Lookin’ forward to it.” He ended the call.

Stretching your legs as best you could beneath the hefty pitbull, you sighed. 

It had been hours since Frank’s last text and you were not handling it well–the image of the little typing bubble on his side of the text chain haunting your every moment. Logically, the presence of those three flashing dots just meant he had started to type something and then forgot or had something else to attend to, but that knowledge didn’t quell the anxiety growing in your chest. 

He was out there, doing god knows what, on his daughter’s 18th birthday, presumably alone and hurting–and there was nothing you could do but wait. And cook him a lasagna of course. Which you had, giving your apartment the pleasant aroma of onions, tomatoes, and ricotta cheese as the dish baked. 

Your consciousness vibrated with the tenacity of an anxious chihuahua, listless with boredom and concern about your sweetheart of a neighbor. Squirming out from under Max’s head, you chuckled as the sleepy pitbull huffed in annoyance. “Sorry, bubba. I need to move around.”

In the final 30 minutes that you lasagna baked, you managed to throw together some simple pastry dough and pull out the small basket of cherries from your fridge. Popping one of the scarlet fruits into your mouth, you began to pluck the remaining stems off before removing their pits. Once they’d been sufficiently prepped, and your hands were adequately smattered with droplets of maroon fruit juice, you dumped them unceremoniously into a pot to create a compote. It didn’t necessarily pair well with lasagna, but you’d promised Frank a cherry pastry. 

Originally, you’d considered making him a cherry basil frangipane, identical to the ones you’d stacked in the bakery’s display case that morning. But, after the day he’d probably had, you figured he’d want something…less intricate. The compliment you’d given him during his first visit to the cafe still held true–Frank was simple and honest. He wasn’t difficult to please, but fancy words and expensive ingredients alone wouldn’t cut it. The food had to be good. So, you pulled out all the stops, making a recipe that you hadn’t made since you lived with Leo: cherry turnovers. 

Unlike your wonderful neighbor, the majority of patrons in the city needed a reason besides quality to continue giving you business. Elaborately decorated pastries and unique flavor profiles were what kept the cafe in business, so you hadn’t tried selling a modest dessert like these since your first few weeks at the Rainy Day Bakery. It was familiar, comforting even. You hoped it would bring Frank similar satisfaction. 

Trading the bubbling lasagna for a tray of triangle-shaped pastries, you brushed your hands on your hips. Re-covering the pasta dish, you hurriedly cleaned your kitchen, wiping away the traces of flour and sugar that inevitably dusted your countertops after you baked. As you rinsed out the mixing bowl, a high-pitched whimper popped the bubble of silence surrounding your apartment. Sitting rigidly by the door to your apartment, Max’s dark eyes pleaded with you. 

“Gosh, you’re right, bud! It is dinner time. I’m sorry, I got carried away. Let’s go get you set up, huh?” 

Snatching Frank’s spare key from your counter, you attached Max’s thick leash to his collar and jogged him back to his apartment, adding an extra handful of kibble as an apology for making him wait. Stroking his short fur a few times, you slipped the key into your pocket, scurrying back over to your apartment to grab the turnovers before they caught fire and reduced the building to ashes. 

Carefully balancing the pastries and lasagna in your hands, you marched back over to Frank’s apartment. Pretty soon, and with only one close call, the food was lined up on Frank’s countertop to cool. Brushing your hands together, you admired your handiwork. 

“Please tell me ya haven’t been sittin’ here with the door open all night.” 

The gruff voice behind you made you jump in shock. Whirling around, your fear morphed into pure joy as you took in the ruggedly handsome man before you.

“Shit, Frankie! You snuck up on me.” You practically squealed, rushing to hug him in greeting. He grunted as you slammed against him, hissing as you squeezed your arms around his hips. Eyes widening in realization, you started to pull back. “Oh fuck, you’re hurt, aren’t you? I’m so sorry, I–” 

Before you could unwrap your arms from his body, his broad hands splayed across your back, muscular arms tugging you back against his firm chest. 

“‘M fine, honey.” Came Frank’s soothing rumble. You felt him press a kiss to your crown before he buried his face in your hair. “Missed you like crazy, sunshine.” His voice was soft, as if he didn’t want you to hear the darling confession. 

“God, I missed you too, Frankie.” You chuckled, your eyes prickling with tears, your body in awe of your own honesty. With his stubbled chin atop your head and his thick arms around your waist, you felt entirely sheltered by his body. He’d created a bubble of safety and serenity for you, as he always did. 

Remaining in his arms, you shifted out from under his head to examine him. Though you’d felt it across your scalp, his beard was noticeably overgrown and in need of a trim. His hair greasy and mussed, streaked with grime, just like his face. The skin of his face was tinged red, with blush or sunburn you weren’t quite sure, and the bags under his eyes were deep. In spite of yourself, your bottom lip stuck out, brow pinching in concern. Bringing a hand up to cradle his face, you stroked a thumb gently over his cheek, careful to avoid the sizeable bruise across it. 

“Oh sweetheart. What did they do to you?” You asked quietly, feeling choked up as the hulking man nuzzled into your touch, his eyes falling shut with a weary sigh. 

“It’s nothin’.” He murmured, his words worn out—as if he’d spoken them so many times they’d lost all meaning. 

“Then it shouldn’t take long to get you cleaned up.” You smiled, the gesture not making it to your eyes. Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed a kiss to his prickly cheek before unwinding his arms from your waist. He started to retract his arms, to tuck them against his sides, but you caught his fingers with yours, grasping his hands tenderly. “Come sit, sweetheart. You must be exhausted.” 

The poor man didn’t argue. Instead, he let you tug him to the couch and sit him down, his lips twitching with fond amusement when you tucked a blanket around his shoulders. “This ain’t mine.” 

You shrugged, the hint of a smirk tugging at your lips. “I redecorated.” 

“I was barely gone three days.” Frank snorted, rolling his eyes at you. 

Poorly stifling a smile as you pretended to be annoyed, you spoke as though it was obvious why you’d done it. “Your apartment is freezing, Frank. Did you want me and Max to get hypothermia while you were gone?” 

He huffed a laugh. “Still bossy.” Letting his head tip back to meet the spine of the couch, his eyes fluttered shut. Your cool touch manifested on his cheek once again. 

“Do you have a first aid kit, Frankie?” 

“Under the bathroom sink.” He answered, his words slurred ever so slightly with fatigue. He received a slight squeeze of his arm in response, your warm fingers leaving a lasting imprint on his skin. 

A year ago, he would never have let himself have this—a moment of peace. Time to let his guard down, to trust someone else to ease his pain. But the combination of his aching body, his heavy eyelids, and your fussing nature had him letting go of a tension he’d held for years, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Soft footsteps alerted him to your presence. Though his eyes were closed, he could hear you shuffle into a crouch, your chest positioned at his knees. 

Stifling a groan, he straightened his posture, wincing slightly as the motion tugged on his day old stitches. His eyes immediately focused on your adorable form in front of him, your own gaze roaming over the various bruises covering his visible skin. Dipping a washcloth into a small bowl of water, you gently lifted his wrist, washing away the dried blood on his knuckles. As you worked, a small river of dirty water–tinged pink from his scarlet blood–dripped down his fingers and onto your dress. 

He watched the trio of droplets fall, time slowing as if to highlight the moment that reignited his anxiety. Splashing across the multicolored fabric, the liquid seeped into your skirt, staining it as you held his hand. Your kindness was endless, and his presence was tarnishing it, ruining it, ruining you. 

Jerking his hand backwards, he cradled it close to his chest. “Lemme do this. I’m gettin’ blood on your pretty dress, sunshine.” He started to stand but you shook your head, gently pushing him back into the cushion and taking his hand in your grasp once again. 

Looking directly into his eyes with an intensity that you always seemed to carry, your lips curved into a small smile. “Frank, it’s just a dress, sweetheart. I promise it’s ok. Let me help you?” With your free hand, you stroked a wayward strand of his hair off of his clammy forehead.

Despite the fact that your gaze conveyed your desire to continue patching him up regardless of his answer, your tone was stilted–giving him the option to deny your help. 

“You’re too sweet for your own damn good, you know.” He sighed, letting his arm go limp in your grip to let you finish what you’d started. 

“Well, you’re too stoic for yours. Makes us quite a pair, doesn’t it?” Your eyes glimmered roguishly, your smirk encouraging him to roll his eyes. 

“Whatever you say, sunshine.” He snorted, knowing full well that you were right. 

You made quick work of tidying up the split skin across his knuckles, moving on to the bruised skin of his cheeks. 

“Didn’t know you were growing this out, Frankie.” You quipped, tugging gently on the untamed curls of his beard. 

His lips twitched, revealing a glimpse of his teeth as he smiled. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it. Whaddya think?” 

Making a great show of shuffling back to study his face, you tapped your chin. “I like it.” 

“You do? Last time it was this long, everyone thought I was some sort of hipster.” 

Shrugging, you focused your eyes back on the cloth in your hand. “I always like how you look, Frankie.” 

Frank’s breath caught in his throat, unable to quite make it to his lungs. Thankfully, he could blame his lack of response on the fact that you were rinsing the injuries on his face, rather than his own lack of emotional intelligence. 

Eventually, you heaved out a breath, looking at him with a raised brow. “Did you want me to look at whatever’s bothering you here?” You asked, gesturing to his hip. 

“If I told ya I have no idea what you mean, would ya call me on it?” He grumbles, not quite sure how he’d feel revealing that much of himself to you. 

You thought for a minute. Nodding once, you answered. “I’d roll my eyes, but respect your desire for privacy.” 

Swallowing thickly, he huffed a nervous laugh. “Fair enough.” With two fingers, he tugged his loose shirt up and over his head, not bothering to disguise his grimace as he rotated his injured shoulder. Pulling the waistband of his pants down an inch, he suddenly felt a surge of fear, not sure how you’d react to seeing his array of scars. 

Inhaling sharply, you traced around his stitches with a finger. “Oh, Frank.” 

“It’s—“

“It’s not nothing.” Taking his hands again, your intensity returned. “You mean something to me. Seeing you hurt…it’s never nothing, ok? Not to me.”

A lump formed in his throat, he nodded as he tried to swallow it down. “Sorry.” 

“No apology necessary,” You squeezed his hands, placing a tender kiss on the raw knuckles of his right hand before grabbing a roll of bandages from your pile of supplies. “I’m not upset that you’re hurt. I just don’t want you to be afraid to lean on someone else for a change.” 

You dressed his larger wounds in contemplative silence, your soft skin a welcome change to the rough contact he was used to. 

“How’d ya learn to patch people up, sunshine? Playin’ nurse for other neighborhood menaces behind my back?” 

You giggled. “You’re my only patient currently. Cross my heart. I’ve just gotten used to first aid after injuring myself my whole life.” 

Bringing a hand up to cup your cheek, Frank’s brow furrowed. “Injurin’ yourself? What do you mean?” 

Eyes widening in realization, you shook your head. “Not intentionally! I’ve just been a klutz for as long as I can remember.” Chuckling sheepishly, you added, “Takes a toll every once in a while.” 

Laughing with relief, he traced a finger along your jaw as he withdrew his hand from your face. “Ah, gotcha. Christ, had me scared there, pretty girl.” 

Your face flushed with heat at the new pet name. You tied off the fresh bandages and stood up. “You should be good to go, unless you’ve got any other areas that need to be looked at?” 

Blushing as his mind traveled to less innocent places, he shook his head. “I’m fine, honey. Thank you. Really.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” You winked at him, heading to the kitchen to dispose of the dirty water and trash. As you rinsed the last of the grime from the bowl you’d used, Frank moaned behind you. 

“Holy shit.” His words were mumbled around a mouthful of pastry, the other half of a cherry turnover in his hand. Swallowing with another horrifically attractive noise, he lifted the dessert in a gesture. “Did you make these?” 

“Yes, but they were for after dinner!” You scolded, your smile completely betraying your feigned annoyance. “Cherry turnovers. Do you like them?”

“No, they’re awful.” Frank deadpanned, shoving the rest of the pastry into his mouth ungracefully. You giggled, uncovering the lasagna before he could reach for another turnover. 

“Would you like some actual food, you heathen?” You asked through stray laughs. 

“You made me a lasagna?” 

“Thought you might want some comfort food today. So I made two of my favorites.” 

“Thank you,” Frank spoke your name gravely, as if it was a prayer. “God, sunshine, I dunno what to say.” Your heart ached as his voice cracked around the words.

“You don’t need to say anything, handsome. Just eat, so you can rest soon, yah?” 

Frank couldn’t help but let the tension he’d been carrying for days roll off his back like droplets of water, his eyes crinkling with fondness as you puttered around his kitchen as if you had it memorized. You plated two hearty servings of lasagna and took a seat next to him, handing him a fork. 

“I’m glad you made it back safely.” You smiled, your gaze more timid than he’d ever seen it. 

“Me too, sunshine.” After placing a kiss on your forehead, he speared the fork into the food on his plate, taking a massive bite. 

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.” Frank groaned, beaming at you. 

Laughing brightly, you took a bite of your own, overjoyed to have Frank to eat with again. 

Thanks for reading! As always, comments and reblogs are incredibly appreciated.

Taglist: @cheshirecat484@xxdrix@smhnxdiii@mattmurdocksstarlight@danzer8705

[drewscarkeys]

Blinded by the lights

Rare Cameron Imagine

Summary: you’re at a party and a guy tries to take advantage of you, but Rafe (in his POV) was there to step in

Warnings: drink spiking, sexual harassment, fighting/violence

Song -

Music was blaring from all angles, overwhelming you and mixed with all the alcohol you’d drank already caused your head to pound. Everything was a blur at this point, you’d lost track of how many shots you’d taken or how much cheap beer you’d forced down. But judging on how the room was spinning, it was enough to surely make you feel it the next morning.

To the left of you a girl was dancing with a guy, grinding herself against him as if no one else was in the room. Fuck, where was Rafe. You were starting to regret your fight earlier.

He’d pissed you off, confusing you by refusing to define what you guys were. You’d been talking for months and you’d both done everything that could be done and yet… you still felt like he was just going to drop you the second he got bored. But at the same time, he treated you like you were practically his girlfriend. So you couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t just ask you to be his girlfriend. Neither of you were very good communicators and what you didn’t know was he wanted to be with you more than anything, but his fear of commitment forever had a hold over him, always making him hesitate, scared of the pain that would come when you would finally realise you could do so much better than him. It was self destruction at its finest. Because while he was just trying to find a way to show you that you were the thing he cared most about in the world, you were convincing yourself you needed to distance yourself from a guy you assumed was just using you and didn’t want anything serious with you.

You decided you weren’t going to think about anything to do with him that night. You were going to get so wasted you’d forget about everything that had ever caused you stress. Unhealthy coping mechanisms for the win, right?

Dragging your eyes across the room, you realised you couldn’t recognise many people, and the people you could recognise were so fucked out of their minds they were no use having a conversation with. A group of them had their heads down over a table, lifting them back up, now with blown pupils, as they rubbed their noses. That wasn’t something you got into. Rafe, on the other hand… no you needed to stop thinking about him.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and dizzily spun around to be met with a guy you vaguely recognised, but couldn’t quite place his name. He may have been the only vaguely sober person in the whole place so you considered him worth talking to.

“Thirsty?” He questioned, holding up a plastic cup shaking it slightly and grinning.

“Oh…I really shouldn’t…” you slurred, barely able to form the words. You would never, ever do anything with this guy - no matter how much you wanted to forget Rafe. Though you didn’t want to admit it, you loved him too much and couldn’t bring yourself to even consider doing anything with anyone that wasn’t him.

“You’re at a party sweetheart, have a little fun,” he insisted, once again raising the drink towards me.

Something about him calling you sweetheart made your stomach twist as it wasn’t Rafe calling you that, but you couldn’t really process much at that point. One more drink you figured. Then yeah, you’d go home and deal with whatever regrets you had the next day.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled, grabbing the cup and quickly downing it, too out of it to notice the slight weird taste it left in your mouth.

“Let’s go dance!” He shouted over the noise, grabbing your hand with his slightly clammy one and dragging you along with him before you could tell him you didn’t feel like it right now. You tried removing yours from his grip feeling slightly uncomfortable but he was pretty firm in his hold, tugging you through the busy room.

The room was spinning even worse than before, lights blinding your eyes as you pushed past people. You were beginning to regret that last drink.

You danced for a while, desperately trying to ignore the guy that was starting to make you really uncomfortable, every step you took, moving slightly further away from him, trying to regain your personal space. The room was so warm, unbearably warm and you felt your head cloud more so than you’d ever felt before, even when you were the drunkest you’d ever been. Your heart was beating fucking fast. The annoying LED lights fixed around the room flashed aggressively and you forced yourself to take deep breaths to avoid throwing up. His hands suddenly grabbed at your hips, trying to push your body against his and you pushed him away harshly.

“Get the fuck away from me!” You tried to shout, but were shocked to hear how slurred the words were, barely making sense. You couldn’t even speak you were so gone.

You wanted to get the fuck out of this house now and away from this fucking weirdo.

But just as you had decided to leave, you felt your vision tinge with darkness, eyes rolling back as your consciousness faded in and out. Everything was so blurred and dizzy and you knew something was really, really wrong.

Oh fuck. What was in that drink. No no no. This can’t be happening, you thought.

Something was tugging your hand and, desperately hoping one of your friends had found you, you followed unable to do anything else with stumbling steps as your legs began to give out. What the fuck was going on. Where was Rafe. You felt so scared and you just needed him right now. You felt someone wrap their arm around your waist to harshly support your collapsing body and continued to move you in the direction of what you could barely make out as a staircase leading upstairs. Your head was rolling back when your neck could no longer support its weight and you stared at the spinning ceiling, trying to make your thoughts connect.

It felt like you were being carried now. Maybe? Nothing was certain at that point. You just wanted to go home.

You heard muffled shouts in the background but you couldn’t tell whether it was the music or if a fight had broken out. Just as the noise had begun, you felt a strange shock sensation run through your body and the wind knocked out of your lungs. Something like pain ran through your body but it was hard to make out through the numbness. The last thing you could remember was resting your face on the soft carpet as your consciousness finally shut down completely and noise buzzed in the background.

~~~

Rafe’s POV:

“Fuckkk,” he groaned, doing another line. Why the fuck did he have to be such a dick earlier? He knew he was wrong and what made it worse was that he wanted to have something more with you. It was such a stupid, unnecessary argument that you guys had earlier. But thanks to the both of you being so strong-headed and stubborn, the second you both arrived at the party after a very silent car ride, you’d split ways to go off with your friends and drink your problems away. Or in Rafe’s case, use a bit more than just alcohol.

Thankfully the coke had kicked in and his stress melted away as he rode the high that took over him. He was surrounded by a group of people also doing the same as him while the majority of everyone at the party was either dancing to the shitty music playing over the speakers or were drinking the shitty, warm beer that some idiot forgot to put in a cooler. There were so many fucking creeps in this place and for a second his mind drifted to you. He knew he should go check up on you.

Yeah, alright, he thought, beginning to lift himself up from the couch.

“Yo Rafe, where the fuck you going man?” Kelce exclaimed, and he attempted, but failed miserably, to subtly motion to the girls sat around him. Rafe had stupidly agreed to be Kelce’s wingman for the night, after losing a bet that he’d somehow agreed to.

He glared at Kelce but nonetheless sat back down, deciding to stay for 5 more minutes of this torture before he’d find you and inevitably give in and apologise. He could only last so long without hearing your voice or feeling your touch. This made him hate Kelce even more in that moment for coming in between him and you, preventing him from getting the rush of dopamine he felt whenever he was around you. He swore on everything it was better than any drug he could take. Something about you drove him insane, causing him to feel things so strong he wanted to run from them, feeling undeserving of the infinite amount of love you gave him.

He couldn’t even understand why Kelce had asked him to stay, considering he refused to say a word to any girl that wasn’t you, choosing to have his face stuck in a permanent scowl. By some miracle, Kelce had managed to convince one of the girls he was talking to, to go upstairs with him to one of the rooms and do fuck knows what. At least it was Kelce’s fucking house, that was the only relatively alright thing about the whole situation.

But with Kelce gone, Rafe could finally go find you.

He harshly pushed himself off the couch and ran his hand down his face, starting to slightly regret doing any coke. He knew how much you hated him doing it but he was being petty after your argument and even though he knew better, gave into the urge. He had actually been doing pretty well recently. Thanks to you.

You, you, you. That’s all that ran though his mind as he scanned his eyes around the room but to his disappointment he couldn’t find you anywhere.

“Topper!” He shouted over the blaring music as he saw him across the room. He quickly made his way over to him and grabbed his shoulder spinning him around.

“You seen my girl anywhere?” He asked, to which Topper gave him a pissed off look for interrupting his conversation with a girl he was clearly hoping to sleep with.

Fuck, I need to get better friends, Rafe thought.

“No man I haven’t seen her” he replied curtly before turning his attention back to the girl who seemed bored out of her mind.

Rafe was beginning to grow a bit paranoid that something had happened to you but he pushed the feelings down for now, trying not to stress himself out too much.

“Uh… Rafe?” A voice behind him hesitantly asked.

He turned around and looked down at a girl looking up at him, looking pretty concerned.

“What?” He asked, probably a bit too aggressively but he was so sick of this night and just wanted to find you so he could go home.

“We were just dancing,” she started slightly unsure of him, till she shook it off and spoke more confidently, a sense of urgency in her voice, “I just saw Y/N shouting at this guy to get away from her and she looked really fucking out of it, something seemed off and-”

“Where the fuck is she?” He demanded, his heart racing at the thought of this guy bothering you enough to shout at him.

“The last I saw was him taking her towards the stairs, I didn’t know what to do, I’m sor-”

Before she could even finish her sentence he’d spun around and literally wrenched Topper away from the girl by his arm. He was about to complain before he saw the pure panic on Rafe’s face and realised something was seriously wrong.

“Some motherfucker is taking her upstairs,” he said, barely getting all the words out coherently he was speaking so fast and had already turned around before Topper could reply. Not that he needed to say anything. He knew the only person in Rafe’s life that would elicit this kind of reaction from him was you.

Rafe was halfway across the room before Topper had a chance to react, literally shoving people to the side in order to work his way through everyone. Topper quickly followed his lead and they both stormed towards the staircase, Rafe taking the steps 2 - even 3 - at a time.

Pure, blinding rage took over him as he saw you in the arms of the most pathetic excuse for a man and he couldn’t hold himself back.

“You motherfucker,” he said in the most threatening, disgusted tone, causing the guy to shout in shock and spin around, so scared to the point where he accidentally dropped you, causing your body to hit the floor with a sickening thud that made Rafe’s stomach drop so much he felt like he was going to be sick.

Rafe couldn’t take it anymore. All he could see was red as he slammed the guy against the wall and sent his fist crashing against the guy’s face, causing his nose to make a disgusting crunching noise as it collapsed against the impact and sprayed crimson blood against the once unmarked white walls and he lay there whimpering and snivelling, clutching his face in pain as blood streamed from his flattened nose.

It took all of Rafe’s strength to pull himself off that piece of shit and take a few shaky steps back, his body pumping with intense adrenaline and anger.

“Topper. Deal with this.” He managed to get out before turning his undivided attention to you lying on the floor. No matter how much he wanted to quite literally beat that guy to death with his bare hands, he cared more about you in that moment. You would always come first to him.

“Oh my god.” He whispered, raising a shaky hand towards your face and brushing your hair out the way. So much guilt consumed him. He couldn’t help but blame himself for what happened. If he hadn’t argued with you maybe you wouldn’t be unconscious, lying on a carpet while just metres away Topper was beating the shit out of the guy that was about to do unspeakable things to you.

With the hand that wasn’t covered in blood, he checked your pulse to make sure the situation wasn’t even worse than it already was. For what felt like an eternity, Rafe waited till he had his fingers in the right position against your neck to finally feel a pulse. He almost felt like crying once he found it and gently lifted your motionless body into his arms, holding you as close as he could.

“Topper, I’m taking her to the hospital right now,” he stated, “once you’re done with him, call the police and explain what happened.”

“I’ll take care of it man, don’t worry. Let me know she’s ok, yeah?” He asked, knowing how much Rafe cared about you and that by being Rafe’s friend meant he cared about you too.

Rafe quickly carried your downstairs but went out the back door to avoid exposing you to anyone while you were in this state, not wanting what happened to get out until you could tell your side of things first.

He lifted your unconscious body up into the passenger seat of his car and carefully pulled your safety belt on, clicking it into place, before he rushed over to the drivers side and jumped in, starting the ignition and driving to the nearest hospital to get you checked and make sure you were ok.

~~~

Your POV:

The smell of bleach and disinfectant overwhelmed your senses and you could barely open your eyes due to the piercing white light that stunned you. You groaned, rolling over, and lifted your hand to your face to shield yourself from the light that was making your head throb painfully.

“Y/N?” You heard a familiar voice exclaim.

You forced yourself to fully open your eyes and you were met with your favourite sight: Rafe motherfucking Cameron. He was looking down at you from the left side of what appears to be a hospital bed that you are lying in, his blue eyes filled with concern.

“How are you feeling? You ok? Can I get you anything?” He rambled, both worried about you but also filled with happiness that you’d woken up.

You laughed softly at his many questions and instead of answering, you carefully pushed yourself up and wrapped your arms around him, just needing him to hold you.

Immediately, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you like you were glass, scared of doing anything that would hurt you. He didn’t stay for long though and quickly pulled away causing you to frown and open your mouth to complain. Before you could say a word he placed his finger on your lips.

“I’m just getting a nurse real quick baby, then we can get you home as soon as possible,” he reasoned with you, laughing when you frowned again before placing a soft kiss on your forehead and left the room.

Now that you had time to think, you wondered what you were doing in a hospital bed. And then you regretted wondering, as everything from the previous night hit you like a punch to the stomach, causing your breathing to hitch and falter.

Fuck.

Did he…? You could barely remember anything. Did Rafe find you? Was he in time before anything could happen? You had so many questions and you were beginning to feel claustrophobic in this white, sterile hospital room.

The sound of the door opening cut off your spiralling thoughts and the sight of Rafe instantly calmed you down a bit. He was followed by a nurse who smiled at you, her eyes filled with kindness and slight concern which made sense considering the circumstances you were in.

“Hi Y/N, I’m Amanda, I’m just here to check up on you and see how you’re doing, if that’s alright?” She asked you, holding a clipboard with your name written on the top.

You sat up and quickly cleared your throat, “yeah, that’s fine.”

“Perfect, we’ll get started then!”

She busied herself checking your blood pressure and blood sugar and did a few other tests that you didn’t know the purpose of. When she was finally finished, she called a doctor in who checked through the clipboard of my information and dismissed her to go look after other patients.

The doctor looked at me with slight apprehension as she sat down on the chair.

“Hi Y/N, I’m Doctor Marshall,” she introduced herself, “now before we let you go today, due to the circumstances of your situation we just have to ask you a few questions regarding why you’re in here.”

You looked at Rafe, not really wanting to confront everything that happened quite yet, still a bit freaked out. He reached out and slipped his hand into yours, rubbing calming circles into your palm.

“Um…ok,” you replied hesitantly.

“Now we don’t have to do anything immediate if you don’t want to, it’s completely up to you how you proceed with this, but I first have to check if you remember what happened last night?”

“Yeah…ok. Um. I don’t really remember much,” you started, not really wanting to relive what had happened so soon but knowing it was necessary, “but I remember taking a drink from a guy.”

You cringed at how stupid that sounded after being constantly warned not to take drinks from strangers, but instead of looking judgemental, the doctor looked back at you with nothing but intense concentration on what you were saying.

You continued, “and then I danced for a bit, but the guy wasn’t leaving me alone and he was making me uncomfortable. I remember shouting at him, I think, and then after that its just really blurred and kinda merges into one.” You finished, looking down at your lap as you messed with Rafe’s hand which you’d been holding the entire time.

“Again, don’t feel like you have to answer but is there anything else you can remember?” She questioned calmly.

“I remember being carried, I think. Oh yeah, I remember the guy that gave me the drink tried to push me against him at one point while I was dancing,” you shuddered at the memory, but continued, “and then when everything started getting really dizzy I remember being dragged by someone. And that’s when they started carrying me. I can’t remember if it was him or not though.”

Weirdly the more you spoke about it, the less overwhelming everything seemed. No one was blaming you or thinking you were stupid. They just wanted to help you and it made you feel safe.

“Alright, well, we’ve already spoken to your boyfriend,” she replied, not noticing the way your eyebrows raised at her calling Rafe your boyfriend, “and obviously when you’re ready and only if you want to, you can talk to the police about what happened and make sure that the guy that did this will have consequences for his actions. You are not the one at fault here.”

She stood up and was about to sign you off to go home before seemingly remembering something, “oh and one more thing, we haven’t contacted your parents seeing as you are over 18 years old and your boyfriend advised against it, so just letting you know they aren’t aware of what has happened,”

“I appreciate that,” you replied, not about to get into why you didn’t want your parents knowing and how your relationship with them was… shaky at best.

“Ok, now that’s all sorted, you’re free to go. Obviously if you feel worse, give us a call but other than that you should be all good” she smiled at you.

“Thank you so much for everything,” you said gratefully, relieved that you were ok and could finally go home.

Rafe helped you up from the bed and immediately held your hand tightly in his, not wanting to let go of you or let you out of his sight. Once you reached his car, he opened the door and was about to lift you onto the seat when you grabbed his hand, grinning slightly.

“I’m ok, I promise. I can get into a seat on my own without breaking.” You joked, so appreciative of him wanting to help you but also feeling slightly babied. You wanted to prove that you were still yourself and that things were normal even after what had happened.

“Ok” he whispered next to your ear, sending butterflies fluttering through your stomach.

You jumped in and he shut the door before moving over to the drivers side and sitting down himself.

By the time he’d driven to home to his house, it was already dark and you felt slightly time disoriented, not sure how long you’d been on the hospital for.

Not even giving you the chance to do it yourself, Rafe had already opened your door, holding out his hand to help you down from his truck, but to your surprise, instead of letting go, he carefully pulled you into his chest, resting his chin on your head.

Nothing needed to be said. You were both pretty shaken up after what had happened and you just needed each others company.

No one else seemed to be home right now - not that it would’ve mattered, you were basically considered part of the family at this point with how much time you spent with Rafe - and he lead you through the silent house up to his room.

He went very quiet all of a sudden, a weird look taking over his face and you looked up at him confused as to why he was acting weird.

“What’s wrong?” You asked softly, leading him over to the bed so you could sit down and talk.

“I just-,” he cut himself off and took a deep breath, looking at you with sad eyes as he began speaking again, “I’m so sorry you had to go through that Y/N. I should’ve been there. I should’ve stopped anything like that from happeni-”

“Nope.” You stated, causing him to stop mid sentence, looking at you confused, “we aren’t doing that. Just as much as it wasn’t my fault what happened, it isn’t yours either. I’m not going to let you sit there and blame yourself when you’re the one who stopped anything more from happening.”

He paused, unsure of what to say for a moment.

“I don’t deserve you.” He muttered, shaking his head as he grazed his nose against mine, “but for some reason my heart has chosen to fall so in love with you it hurts. And it scares me, fuck, it scares me Y/N. I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, holding his hand up to cup my face, rubbing my cheek with his thumb, “but I don’t care anymore. I love you. That’s the truth and I need to tell you that even if it terrifies me because you deserve so much love.”

You stared at him shocked at what he was saying. You couldn’t even form words. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, trying to convey all the intense emotions you were feeling in that moment through a single kiss.

“I love you,” you whispered back, causing him to inhale sharply and squeeze your waist.

“I love you,” he whispered back to me again.

“I love you,” you laughed, realising this wasn’t going to end any time soon.

“I’ll never get sick of hearing you say that,” he grinned, as he held you even tighter to him.

He’d never felt this way about anyone before. And he didn’t think he’d ever feel this way again. You were it for up him. And he loved you so much.

[yanderes-galore]

Hiii! Love your works a ton <3 Can I request a yandere concept for my boi Levi from fear and hunger?

Looking into his lore is sad because all he's ever known is war/trauma and now he has to deal with... the festival- What's worse is he is only about my age too :( But yes, I'll see what I can do for him! I enjoy writing Funger despite how dark it is, lol

Yandere! Levi Jořdán Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Trauma, Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Drug use mention, Violence, Murder, Stalking, Mentions of war related trauma, Blood, Apathy to death, Corpse mention, Death, Overprotective behavior, Dubious companionship, Jealousy mentioned.

I already feel like, regardless of his intentions Levi is going to come off cold and distant in his obsession.

He is one of the youngest contestants of the game and most of his life was literally as a drafted soldier at a young age.

Not only that but his father killed his mother and he was put in an orphanage before being drafted.

He actually grew up where the Termina Festival takes place, too.

Levi is a character I imagine would come off rather broken.

It would take time before he could cling to anyone, be they friend or romantic partner.

However he isn't going to be as hostile as Pav, just distant and out of it.

The drugs running in his system all the time doesn't help either.

Although at the same time he's just so scared.

You're most likely a contestant too and find him cowering in a house, expecting you to kill him.

Yet once you show you have no intentions of harming him he'll decide tagging along with you may be for the best.

While I do think Levi is distant at times, trying his hardest to ignore the voices in his head like you, he wants to be able to rely on someone to get through this.

He's solitary but appreciates the company... safety in numbers.

He struggles with friends and struggles to talk with others, including you.

Not only that but he has some self worth issues to top it all off.

Levi wouldn't understand why you pay attention to him.

He appreciates it but doesn't get why you try so hard to protect him.

Although he is happy he doesn't have to attack you.

In terms of the type of yandere Levi would be I can see him as clingy, paranoid, and protective.

The moment you become party members he feels obligated to keep you alive as long as he can.

With his skills in firearms it shouldn't be too difficult... hopefully.

Levi struggles to hold long conversations with you but slowly gets better at it as you encourage him.

You would obtain his obsession by slowly encouraging him out of his scared shell.

You're both scared, yes, but finding comfort in one another soothes you both.

This connection as teammates would cause Levi to view you in two different lights, depending on your preference.

Levi can either see you as a partner to fight alongside and a friend to aid him in hopefully surviving this festival (Platonic).

Or Levi can see you as a romantic interest, someone he didn't think he'd ever have the chance of having.

Levi also appears to be someone who has a chance to be a horrific threat when he finds his obsession.

I imagine before he even met you he felt drawn to you and followed you before hiding away to be found.

Plus with the constant mental strain of the voices, his trauma, and his fear... he'd be desperate to keep the one he loves safe and may even hurt other contestants.

He says he doesn't want to hurt anyone.

But he won't hesitate as much when he sees another contestant try to take a shot at you.

His response is simple.

*BANG*

The blood doesn't affect him, the corpse doesn't either.

All he knows is you could've been torn from him like so many others.

The voices only encouraged him to stop that from happening.

Levi is ashamed when you catch him try to... "relieve his withdrawal symptoms"

It's just that he's had no other way to cope with his pain-

Although... you don't judge him.

Based on what he's told you, he's been through a lot, especially now.

You instead try to help him through it.

His urge to take the needles lessens when you distract him.

But he can't give it up completely.

As a romantic yandere I imagine Levi struggles with affection.

Yet like a drug, when he first hugs you he craves for more.

When you're alone and safe, Levi encourages you to hug him.

He doesn't really to let go... ever.

Levi would also be hesitant to kiss you but would do so for the same reasons.

If he just sees you as a friend he's less affectionate but certainly still enjoys hugs.

Killing for you to protect you soothes the voices in his head just a bit.

The Festival makes him yearn for the death of his fellow contestants.

Protecting you... satisfies such an urge.

Plus, it keeps you and him safe...

So he'll head into battle if it means the survival of both of you.

Losing you in the Festival may break Levi.

He becomes overcome with the urge to avenge you and the voices become too strong for him.

It wouldn't be that surprising if he got rid of the rest of the contestants if they took you away.

Another thing to think about is if you became Moonscorched.

Levi would struggle with the idea of that... he'd also struggle with the idea of himself becoming Moonscorched in front of you.

Levi doesn't want you scared of him.

You trusted him enough to accept him into your party.

He's going to try his best to prove his worth to you because of that.

Plus... he loves you, one way or another.

If you had other party members then Levi may cling to you more.

Even more so if you picked him as your first party member.

He doesn't trust them but will fight beside them because they're following you.

Levi is loyal to you.

He'd kill to defend you as an ally and would do anything to see you trust and smile at him.

He hopes you'll reciprocate how he feels towards you.

Be it his feelings of companionship or romance.

If not... then he can hope that changes, right?

You don't have much time in this festival... so maybe make the best of it? With him?

Levi would never want to turn his guns on you.

He doesn't want you to hate him, either.

Levi would be a yandere who feels he should give you everything he has to offer.

It means a lot to him that you haven't decided to kill him... instead choosing to help him through everything...

In return, he'll kill for you like he's your weapon... because in the end he feels he's yours to use.

[paper-gold-theories]

I can definitely see villains avoiding Flug if it means attracting Goldheart's attention during schemes while others actively try to use it to their advantage.

Villain trying to escape?

Throw something related to Flug on the other side of the street and book it like some would throw a wallet in a mugging.

A picture, phone number, limited merchandise of Flug that Blackhat specifically made only for villain access to throw at GH, a pair of socks that Demencia stole and sold for fun, literally anything.

Golden boi would be zooming.

There's a chance they might not escape but it definitely increases those chances.

The idea that villain merch exists and goldheart trying his best to get it and failing is absolutely hilarious.

@ghostdoodlen

This absolutely is hilarious, 😂.

Villainous Fanfic: GoldHeart developed an addiction to collecting Flug merch and stuff as an unhealthy coping mechanism after he lost his Arch-Nemesis and the photos of his face.

He is in complete denial and says that he doesn't have a hoarding problem if anyone asks, convincing himself that it's for "research purposes".

But he would be zooming like a "golden retriever" if anyone gives him any Flug related thing like his new phone number and sock.

I kinda imagine BlackHat realizes the Villainous Gang are somewhat popular, but not as popular as him, (especially after that Vuala figurine and keychain giveaway) so he decides to profit from this for awhile by releasing action figures only for Black Hat Organization Members, and comes out with new designs and special limited edition ones.

GoldHeart is extremely frustrated because the only way he can get the Flug action figures is to literally sell his soul which is definitely a no-no.

So he would definitely go after the toys if a Villain has it even if it were for an obvious distraction but would then proceed to beat up the Villains for having the audacity to distract him.

Some Villains even try to bribe GoldHeart with Flug limited edition action figures. He would pretend to agree and take the toys then proceed to betray them then beat up the Villains for having the audacity to bribe him.

The Flug action figure GoldHeart wants the most is the rarest "Flug in GoldHeart's costume" action figure.

It's a prototype April Fools edition, where the Villainous Gang is dressed up as heroes.

It's also nearly impossible to find and it's not even in circulation.

GoldHeart would have thought it was a myth or an April Fools prank if he didn't see the promo ad live in The Black Hat Organization website one month in advance before it was wiped out completely from the dark web.

The reason for its rarity is because even though it's for an April Fools joke, BlackHat finds him and his henchman dressing up as heroes disgusting. As a result the promo was removed from the BHO website and mass production of the April Fools toys we're shut down. (BlackHat also tortured the person who thought of the idea).

So only one prototype from the ad exists

...and guess who has it.

When Flug finds out, he pretends to be appalled and not like the action figure. But secretly thought it was cool, and keeps the prototype in his desk drawer in his plane-house.

When the Golden Rule Members infiltrate the Black Hat Manor to gather information about the Villains and steal confiscate any cool dangerous items which can be used for evil if they have time while Black Hat and the Villainous Gang are out.

GoldHeart was extremely ecstatic to find the most prized action figure and last item to complete his collection and proceeds to yoink the item and put it the most safe place, his outer underwear (because P.E.A.C.E. made that part of the uniform nearly indestructible as Villains have a habit of kicking heroes in the crotch)

The action figure also didn't stand out because it was small enough not to be obvious.

Just when they were about to leave, the Villainous Gang came back early, fortunately without BlackHat as he had additional business to attend to and they fought. But the heroes managed to get away.

Flug checked the damage from the fight and looked around the manor to see if anything had been stolen and much to his shock his "Flug in GoldHeart's costume" action figure was missing.

This was confirmed when GoldHeart took a picture of the "Flug in GoldHeart's costume" action figure next to his own action figure made by P.E.A.C.E and sent to Flug's new phone number (which Flug had no idea where GoldHeart got) from with the caption "Matching ☺️".

Flug out of revenge for GoldHeart stealing his stuff, breaking into Hat Manor, and finding out that Flug kept that embarrassing action figure of himself in GoldHeart's costume and continues to tease him relentless for it when ever he sees him, requested the creative team to design an "GoldHeart dressed in Flug's clothes" action figure and release it to the public.

But it had an opposite effect for GoldHeart as he immediately afterwards sent an image with both of their action figures to Flug with the caption "Costume Swap 😉", much to Flug's incredible frustration.

[trangenderstan]

The entire bullshitted and edgy backstory my brain came up with for Tullius:

He was born in Anvil to a long line of Legionnaires. His first name is Tiberius, named after Tiber Septim due to his father's affinity for the man. His father was a strict man, a Legate in the Legion and he was determined to make a warrior out of his son. Tullius was taught to use a sword ever since he was old enough to hold one, but his real passion lied behind the mind. He was great at chess, logic and more often than not used clever, almost slimy tactics during training

When he was 12, his father took him to the Imperial City, specifically so he could live and train in the Legion's barracks. He wasn't an official part of the army yet, but he was exposed to all the good the bad and the ugly that came with military organization. This allowed him to quickly climb the ranks in the army when he was allowed in

It's not that the Legion wasn't his passion, but he sometimes wonders if this really is the life he wants, or if he's in the position he is now purely because he didn't know any other life

By 26 he was already a bright, young Legate. It was a quick promotion because of his family's ties to the Legion. I imagine he wasn't closed off and antisocial back then, he used to frequent local inns and often escape the walls of the City to wander around with a new woman he'd found himself attracted to (and a few men, but he'd never tell anyone about that)

What changed him, like many others, is the Great War. Due to most of the commanding power being urgently called to different garrisons, Tullius was left managing a relatively small group on the outskirts of Anvil in a farming settlement. The military was stationed there to make the Dominion reconsider attacking the flanks, as well as to scout out any potential dangers

Unfortunately, the outpost served as a show of the elves' destructive powers. There was a group of Altmer wizards that cast a series of fire runes over the settlement (totally stole this idea from a fanfic because its COOL DAMMIT), which, the moment a person even as much as moved, all the runes immediately got set off, engulfing everyone and everything in flames

Tullius barely survived the encounter, mostly because he was on the lookout outside of town and wasn't burned as heavily as the rest. The memory haunts him, however, as he escapes to the Imperial City before it's siege

The memory haunts him so bad, in fact, that it drives him crazy, earning him the patronage of Sheogorath for a while. The war goes by in a blur as he throws himself into work and planning, trying to forget everything with an unhealthy amount of alcohol. After the war is over and peace is achieved (though at what cost) he decides to try and end his life. It's unsuccessful and he's almost kicked out of the legion for it, because a leader trying to kill themselves is a bad thing for soldier morale (and overall the whole thing is buried)

Except Titus Mede II has a serious, and perhaps less of an Emperor-Subject talk with him, which alleviates some of the weight on Tullius's shoulders. It doesn't erase it, but it at least makes life bearable. For his outstanding military achievements (largely because his coping mechanism is doing nothing but his job), he's awarded the title of General shortly after

Idk i like sad old men

[eternal-love-song]

Who You'll Be When You're Already Dead

Years after the killing game, the participants keep meeting up once a year to keep in touch and Kokichi is sick of it. When Kaede decides to talk to him about his attitude, the two end up becoming oddly tangled with one another.

[Kokichi/Kaede] [Post VR AU, Kokichi POV, Unhealthy Coping Mechanism, Angst, Character Study]

Written for @dr-rarepair-week-blog

Kokichi hated these reunions. He spent the mornings watching Kirumi and whoever else decorate like it was a birthday party, hanging streamers and putting up posters. It was a ploy to make them feel welcomed and invited, instead of what they really were, shackled and miserable. It was a masochistic practice, seeking out their fellow killing game survivors and pretending that they were happy to see each other instead flagellating themselves over the fact that they'd signed themselves away.

Kokichi never helped, but that didn't make him better than the rest of them. He still showed up early every year to watch the decorating like he was staring at a sinking ship.

Kokichi didn't know who he'd been before the killing game. Those memories were gone for good. It was supposedly his signature on the contract that had signed away the life of his past self, but he'd never know that for sure. Just as surely, who he was inside the killing game was also gone. Murdered just as soundly as his virtual body had been. 

All these years later, it hardly mattered. It was all that mattered. 

"Could you at least do that outside?" Kirumi asked, watching him with a disappointed frown.

Kokichi took an extra long drag on his cigarette for that and blew the smoke into the air between them. "If I go outside, I'm not coming back in."

It shouldn't be a loss, but for whatever reason, everyone treated his attendance like it was the most important thing imaginable. Not just his, of course. He wasn't the only one that had to be hunted down and dragged into this practically against his will. Maki and Korekiyo were treated much the same, as if the whole thing would fall apart if even one of them was missing.

Kirumi walked around him and opened the windows, before going on her way to finish decorating. 

Kokichi didn't get it. Most of them died in the killing game and woke up someone else. Kirumi was one of the few that seemed desperate to cling to the tatters of her in-game persona with both hands.

When Tsumugi arrived, it was always with her head held low and an apologetic smile on her lips. Kokichi always stared at her, surprised that she had the nerve to show her face even if she hadn't chosen to be the mastermind, and she shrunk back from his gaze like Shuichi used to when she noticed. Red face went red with shame, but after the first time she had offered an apology to him for her roll in the killing game, just after they had all woken up, and Kokichi had laughed in her face and refused to forgive her, Tsumugi had gotten the idea to steer clear of him.

Angie stepped into his line of sight, smiling as she blocked Tsumugi from his glare. "Hey there, Kokichi. Can you do me a favor?"

"No," he replied immediately.

Angie didn't listen. She never did. It made her one of the easier people to interact with. She placed her hands on his shoulder and turned him toward the windows. He wasn't sure whether he was being put in time out for bullying Tsumugi or being redirected because of his smoking, but he found it amusing either way.

"Stay right there, okay?"

"Anything for you, beloved."

He could hear Angie trying to convince Tsumugi to ignore him and enter the building. Amusingly, it took ten minutes for Angie to talk her around. You'd think it would get easier the more time passed without him doing anything, but it seemed like it never did.

Kokichi hung out of the window until his cigarette was down to the butt, tossing it carelessly out the window and privately hoping that it would set the whole place on fire. Sadly, there wasn't anything out there for the cooling embers to catch on, but he could dream.

"You could at least try to enjoy yourself." 

Kokichi raised an eyebrow as he turned, seeing Kaede staring him down. Somehow, she looked more like herself than she had in the killing game. Shorter hair, sharper eyes, but exactly the same amount of presumptuous and bossy. "What's to enjoy?" he asked.

"The food that Kirumi made," she answered immediately.

"Just what I need, to be fed by a murderer," he said flatly.

"The decorations that Angie made."

"The same decorations that I see every single year, joy."

Kaede glared even harder. "The room full of all your friends?"

This one gave Kokichi pause, if only for the hard laugh that forced its way out of his throat. "Are we friends now? Wonder when that happened."

Kaede opened her mouth to say more, but Kokichi wasn't in the mood to listen. He walked away, vaguely taking stock of the room as he went toward the hall that led to the bathroom. 

Miu was making a scene at the bar. Maki had dyed her hair and kept self consciously running her hands through it. Rantaro was telling stories to everyone. Seemed like the gang was all there finally. Whoop-de-do.

"I wasn't done talking to you," Kaede said, but not until after he'd already left the main room. He wasn't sure why she bothered. He was sure none of them really wanted him there, even if Miu or Ryoma occasionally spoke to him. It would be easy enough to just not invite him to one of these little reunions and get on with their lives, or else just not have them altogether. He was more sure than ever that it was Little Miss Piano Song that was the driving force behind these things.

Kokichi sighed as he turned to face her. "Can I help you?"

It seemed he could, because she opened her mouth and didn't close it for the next five minutes. Kokichi did not listen. He'd heard it all before, if not from her then Kaito, if not from him, then from Gonta. It all added up to the same thing in his mind. If Kokichi wasn't around then they would feel guilty and if they felt guilty they couldn't pretend that they were getting over it.

Which they weren't. It couldn't be more clear that they weren't. If they really wanted to get over they would all go their separate ways and never talk to each other again. Or else only when they accidentally see each other in the streets five years from now when it can be awkward and the sight of each other covered in blood wasn't still the most prominent thing on everyone's mind.

Kaede couldn't be convinced of that though. She was too stubborn. It had to be all or nothing with her. Kokichi gambled for nothing.

He took a few quick steps into her space, startling her enough that she stopped speaking for just a moment, then he pressed his lips to hers. 

The silence really was golden.

Kokichi was pretty sure that she was with Shuichi. He'd seen the not really a detective nipping at her heels the same way that he had while in the killing game and assumed. It was an assumption that he hoped would make her back off, run back to her boy toy, and be too embarrassed or angry or whatever to talk to him again. He didn't need her to nag him about being friends. All he needed was to be left alone.

That wasn't what happened though. Instead, she froze. For much longer than he thought was reasonable. When he finally pulled back from the kiss, he found that she was red from blushing and her pupils were blown.

"Huh." He took a step back. "If nothing else, you're still not boring," he told her. Then he continued on his path away from her to the bathroom.

He didn't actually have to pee. He just hoped to pass some time until he could leave without anyone nagging him about it. The last time he'd tried to duck out early, Kiibo had tried to make small talk with him to get him to stay and it was almost more painful than the press. Almost. He was considering just taking out another cigarette when the door burst open and Kaede barged in.

"You can't do that!" she yelled.

Kokichi decided not to make a joke about the immense delay of that reaction. "Pretty sure I already did."

Kaede slammed her hands against the wall, interestingly choosing to box him in against the wall. "I'll have you know that I'm happily seeing someone," she proclaimed.

"I don't recall asking," he smirked.

Kaede practically growled in frustration, making his smirk widen. "Why do you have to be so-"

He kissed her again. It just seemed like the right thing to do. After all, you didn't follow someone into a bathroom and practically push them against a wall just to yell at them he was pretty sure. The fact that she didn't pull away really just proved his point.

Kokichi made this kiss last longer than the first, grabbing onto the front of her shirt and pulling her closer. Kaede didn't make an attempt to pull away. When he slid his tongue along her lips, she parted them easily, welcoming him with an enthusiastic moan. The first kiss had just been to shut her up, but he actually enjoyed this one. He was smiling when he finally pulled away.

"You're awful," she told him quietly once he broke the kiss, unable to meet his gaze.

"Yeah? I'm not the one dating someone," he replied. 

"You didn't have to-"

"Neither did you," he said. "You could still leave, you know. Someone could walk in here any minute."

Kaede made a pained noise of uncertainty that actually amused him. This wasn't the same person that had been inside the game. Kokichi didn't know who she was, but he had to admit to finding this Kaede much more interesting.

"I think," he said in a low tone, "that you have two options here. Either go back out there and pretend that nothing happened or go into one of those stalls and accept that whatever happens next, you choose it."

Kaede's face only got more red, her gaze only dropped lower and lower. When she finally stepped away from him, he thought for a moment that her good sense had returned to her and that she was going to leave. 

She didn't. 

Kaede took several steps away from him, raised her gaze to meet his own, and then stepped backwards into one of the stalls. 

For a moment, Kokichi considered just leaving. That would be the surest way to get her to leave him alone, to leave her embarrassed and humiliated in a stall in the men's room. The truth of that matter was that he didn't really want to. Kokichi wasn't his game self either, he wasn't better than her. Better than this. 

He followed her into the stall. 

They didn't speak. They had said all that needed to be said already. The only thing that was left was for Kokichi to burn a mistake into her skin. He left marks under shirt, hickies and scratches as punishments for the fact that she'd bothered him long enough for it to come to this. In turn, she left the feeling of her hands in his lingering hair for days after they parted and the sound of her soft cries practically haunted him. 

When they parted, Kokichi left quickly, hoping to avoid the regret in her eyes and the hesitation in her movements.

He didn't.

Kokichi avoided her for the rest of the night and managed to be the first person to leave.

---------------- Kokichi didn't think about them much the rest of the year or he tried not to. Remembering his not friends mostly just brought up bad memories. There were some things that were unavoidable though.

He woke from nightmares that he couldn't remember with a full body ache. He froze when he saw a weird shade of pink and had to remind himself that blood was really red. Sometimes it didn't sink in until he pricked his finger and then the bright red would remind him of cold, vicious eyes waiting for him to die. It was a constant struggle between thinking of nothing and being followed by these tiny snapshots of life that wasn't his.

The Kokichi Ouma that he used to be would bottle it all up and smile. He would be loud enough to walk right over those thoughts, stubborn enough to push them aside. That Kokichi had been someone that would fight until the very end. His weapon had been wits, and he'd wielded them to the very end.

This Kokichi armed himself with a bottle and a cigarette and constantly wondered how big of a mistake he could make with them.

Like clockwork, however, the invitation came. He always told himself that he wouldn't go. He didn't want to see them, that much was true, and he repeated that truth over and over as he turned the envelope over and over again in his hands. He watched it burn beneath the ashes of his cigarette. Then, just like clockwork, he found himself standing outside the meeting place once more.

Angie smiled at him and looped her arm with his to drag him in. He almost never walked in himself, someone always dragged him. Kokichi thought if they didn't catch him, he could probably just walk past content in the knowledge that they were there and he wasn't. Unfortunately, no matter how he dragged his feet, nothing ever changed.

It was a good thing he was dead, otherwise he was pretty sure that he would hate himself.

"Have you come to help this time?" Kiibo asked. He never got used to seeing him in flesh and blood. Kiibo moved like it was awkward to be in his body, as if his hands and feet never quite did what they wanted him to. He wondered if Kiibo wasn't used to it yet either, if he never would be. 

Kokichi answered his question by reaching into his bag, holding up a bottle of alcohol, and taking a long drink.

"It's much too early in the morning for that," Kirumi sighed. "At least allow me to make you something to eat."

Kokichi raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't you have better things to do?"

Kirumi pressed her lips together as she frowned. He could see it easily, when he looked at her, the way that she tried to figure out what the maid in the game would have said or done. The way she tried to step back into herself like it was a favorite shirt she could no longer fit. 

Kokichi turned away from her to save her the trouble, sitting himself on a table and settling in to watch as he always did.

The day passed in snapshots as he tried not to think too much, not to watch them, not to see the ghost of their former selves overlaid with the people in front of him. The more of them that arrived, the harder that became.

One blink and there was a plate of toast beside him. 

One blink and Angie was stealing a swig from his bottle.

One blink and Tsumugi was peeking her head into the room, spotting him, and backing out again.

Until finally every blink became the same as there were more bodies and more bodies and more bodies in the room. 

"Hey, can you get off the table?"

"No," he answered immediately, before finally turning to see who it was. He was surprised that the subdued voice he'd heard was Kaito's. He knew that the idiot was still stubborn, still self righteous, but he guessed he'd left being loud back on his gravestone.

Kokichi hopped off the table, wobbled, then reached back to take his bag. His bottle was empty, between his own drinking and Angie constantly stealing sips, that wasn't really a surprise. He decided to leave it where it was.

"Where you going? It'll be time to eat soon," Kaito called after him.

"Smoke," Kokichi answered without turning back. He could feel the ground beneath his feet a little too keenly. If he turned, it would be obvious that he wasn't steady on his feet, if it wasn't already. Best to just retreat now and hope that no one followed him.

That hope was sadly in vain.

"What's wrong with you today?" He didn't even have to turn this time to know who was nagging him.

"Still have that boyfriend?" he asked as he tried to fumble around for his cigarettes. He wasn't sure that he really wanted one, but he didn't want to stand still either. 

"Huh?" It was a little surprising that he'd taken her so off guard with that. "Why would you ask..."

"Because it seems like you could be bothering him instead of me."

Silence followed. Silence in which he finally discovered his half empty box of smokes and hoped that she had gone on her way. That was foolish though. Not even this new Kaede seemed like the type to give up so easily.

But she was the type to fuck boys in bathrooms when she had a boyfriend. Funny that.

"If this is about last time--"

"It isn't," he told her. But it was. He might not have thought about it if she hadn't sought him out again, if he wasn't tipsy, if he didn't think his hand would be too unsteady to light a cigarette. He could still feel the grip she had on his hair that night when he wasn't paying close attention. Anothing thing to haunt him, to follow, like the guest hall full of ghosts that he'd just walked out of.

Kaede huffed as she stomped around to stand in front of him. "Everyone is trying their best!" she yelled.

Kokichi looked up to meet her eyes. "I never asked them to," he said. "I didn't ask anything from any of you."

"After everything you did," she said, stepping closer. "After how hard you tried, you're going to just... throw this away?"

"That person is gone," he said firmly, glaring at her. He held up his hands, bringing one down on top of the other. "Crushed, just like my concern. Shouldn't have savored him while you had him."

Kaede shook her head again. "I don't believe you."

"I don't really care what you believe. Doesn't change anything." He shrugged and half turned away from her. "All this Kokichi can do is fuck you again, and probably not even well since I can barely see straight. There's nothing here for you."

Kaede stormed forward to turn him back toward her, almost knocking him off his unsteady feet. "There is."

He knocked her hand away. "There isn't!" he yelled back. "You're not that fucking desperate for cock, are you?"

"You don't know what I am," she yelled back.

Kokichi stared at her. Her stance was like he remembered it, but her eyes were different. Meaner, sharper, louder somehow. It was much easier to see when there were so many of them swarming in his vision. He sighed, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. "You're right. Go home."

Surprising no one, she didn't leave.

What was surprising was when he felt her hands at his hip and he opened his eyes to see her on her knees in front of him. He opened his mouth, but found himself at a loss for words as he looked at her. 

Kaede's gaze seemed to get harder, more determined. "You don't know what I am," she repeated.

Well. Guess she was right on that one.

Kokichi hoped that the feeling of his hands in her hair would follow her the same way her touch haunted him. She hoped that when she went back inside it was with a sore throat and that his taste lingered longer far longer than it should. He wondered if he would remember this later or if it would fade away like the memories of his past self. He wouldn't mind if it did. He had survived losing worse, and better. He wouldn't mind losing this.

"Um, is anyone out here?"

By the time the soft call came, they had long since stopped. Kokichi was sitting on the ground, holding a cigarette that she'd barely touched, and Kaede was staring up at the stars. He wondered what she was thinking, but he didn't ask. Kokichi didn't have room for anyone's thoughts but his own.

"Shuichi?" Kaede leaned toward him, but she didn't move, rooted to the spot like she had been for the past several minutes that his cigarette had been burning down to the butt.

Shuichi looked both ways before stepping outside and coming to her side. Kokichi thought he might have been more anxious now than he had been in the killing game. He had a better hat to hide behind and a scarf around his neck that served almost the same purpose, as if he could bury his body in accessories and escape his fears that way. There was a time Kokichi would have considered helping him. A time when Kaito already would have been. A time when Kaede would have gone to his side and pulled him after her.

Where did the time go?

"We were looking for you both," Shuichi said. "Everyone, um, we're about to leave so..."

"Wow, the time went so quickly," Kaede told him with a laugh. It was fake, but was that because it was guilty? Nervous? Embarrassed?

Kokichi didn't listen to whatever they said next, tossing his cigarette butt to the ground and watching as it slowly fizzled out.

"Um, are you coming?" Shuichi asked.

"No." Kokichi didn’t need to look at him to know that his tone would make Shuichi shrink back and frown and retreat like he always did. He had more shadows now, but Shuichi really was the same.

Kaede sighed. "We're not gonna leave you out here."

"Then don't leave," he said. "I'm not gonna stop you."

 When Kokichi failed to be moved by Kaede's glare, she said something to Shuichi. A few minutes later he was being forced into Rantaro's car and driven home. When Kokichi refused to tell Rantaro where he lived, he was taken to Rantaro's house. 

Kokichi snuck out in the middle of the night, but he had the grace to leave a note.

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

Kokichi resolved not to go to the next reunion. They had to end eventually, didn't they? It wasn't like he enjoyed being there. It made him crazy sometimes, spending the whole day cataloging all the ways that they had changed. Who had changed their hair or their personality or their body this time? Who had died and who had come back to life? Who was desperately trying to be someone they weren't and who had stopped being anyone at all?

Maybe that last one was just him. Some of them were getting along just fine, dragging these chains from one room to another like they were treasures instead of shackles. He used to be good at lockpicking, he should be able to break free.

Kokichi was used to carrying around a lot of dead weight. He had been doing so at least since the second motive. Carrying around the dead weight of Dice, of his dead not classmates, of Gonta, and Miu, and his past self that had declared that he would win. He hadn't won anything though. No one had.

In the end, Kokichi was just as much of a loser as the mastermind had been.

Kokichi managed to spend the morning of the reunion in bed. He was hyper aware of the passage of minutes ticking by the whole time, but that was to be expected. Just like he had been very aware of the weight he'd carried in the killing, he was equally cognizant of putting it all down.

It was the middle of the afternoon when his doorbell rang. Kokichi dragged himself out of bed and to the door.

"How did you find where I live?" Kokichi asked when he opened the door.

Kaede brushed past him as she entered uninvited. "I asked Kirumi. She's the one that sends out the invitations. I figured she would know."

Funny that he never questioned their arrival. His past selves must be rolling in their graves.

"And what do you want?" he asked with a sigh as he closed his door. He was sure that if she'd come all this way, it wouldn't be that easy to get rid of her.

Kaede's eyes were downcast, making her look surprisingly like her killing game self. "You were late. You've never been late before."

"I wasn't going."

She looked up, meeting his gaze with a frown. "Yeah, I figured."

It was quiet as they both looked into each other's eyes. Kokichi couldn't tell what she was thinking or why she was here, but he waited for her to get on with it already.

Finally, Kaede sighed, crossing her arms and almost pouting at him. "I didn't want that to be the last time I ever saw you."

Kokichi blinked at her. "Why?"

Kaede huffed. "I wanted to get to know you better! Back then, I died so fast..." She meant in the killing game. She was surprised that she was acknowledging it. Almost no one did, not outloud. "So I wanted to do now what I couldn't do then."

Kokichi scoffed. "You wanted to do what? Save everyone?"

For a moment, she looked chastised. "Yeah... Only I couldn't. When I first woke up, I thought that I could but... I died... for them... and it didn't help. People still died and the killing game kept going and... And I'm so angry at them all!" Kaede began abruptly pacing. "It was all for nothing! I ki- I thought that I-" She made a frustrated noise. 

"You sound like you could use a drink," he told her.

"Yeah, maybe I could."

He didn't go get her one. Instead, Kokichi just sat on his couch and watched her to see what she would do next.

"You're a jerk," she told him. He didn't disagree. "But you're an honest jerk. You're one of the only people that isn't trying to be someone they can't be anymore and I hate you for it."

"Hmm, new reason to be hated, but I'll take it."

Kaede stomped her foot. "That's what I'm talking about! You just... accept whatever happens. You aren't fighting anything anymore."

"What's there to fight?" he asked. "We aren't in a killing game anymore. I'm not a supreme leader."

"Then what are you?" she yelled, stomping over to him. "Because I can't figure it out and it's driving me crazy."

"I'm a dead man," he told her. "And so are you. We're all just ghosts but the rest of you refuse to leave the graveyard."

Kaede's expression fell and she sighed. "I hate you," she said again, softer. "But I don't. You make me feel... something. Alive maybe. Not just pretending to be myself."

Kokichi reached out to grab her hand and pull her closer. She startled, startling and falling onto the couch next to him. He got onto his knees and ran his fingers through her hair. "You're not. The you in the killing game wouldn't be here and I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have had sex with me in a bathroom."

He expected her to blush and was surprised when she didn't. More proof that she wasn't the same, even if she did look away from him for a moment. 

"We broke up, by the way," she said softly.

"Oh? You and whoever?" He still wasn't sure if it was Shuichi that she'd been dating, but if he hadn't cared enough to ask when they were in a bathroom stall, he didn't see a reason to ask now.

"Yeah. After that time... well, it seemed like a sign, you know."

Kokichi watched her as she moved into a more comfortable position, which coincidentally brought her closer to him. 

"I don't want you to disappear, Kokichi."

Kokichi chuckled as he pulled back from her, slowly turning into an all out laugh. "I don't know why you would care," he told her. "You died so soon, I guess I'm the only Kokichi that you really know."

"I like the Kokichi I know," she told him. "Even though you hate it, you kept coming back to check on us. You care about us."

"I wouldn't say that."

Kaede smiled. "No, you wouldn't." Slowly, the smile fell from her face. "You moved on faster than the rest of us, but... I want to do that too. I don't want to feel trapped by a world that killed me."

Kokichi met her expression with his own serious one. "I can't do anything for you."

"I'm not asking you to." She smiled wryly. "I'm not even asking you to fuck me again. Just... don't go anywhere. Even though you weren't trying to help me, you still did."

"I wouldn't mind if you did," he told her. "It wasn't that bad."

Kaede laughed and he could see relief in her smile. "Maybe I wouldn't either. I don't know."

Kokichi pushed himself up off the couch. "Come on. My kitchen's empty, so you might as well come with me to get that drink I didn't offer you."

Kaede followed him out the door. This time, he didn't feel quite so haunted.

[schizodiaries]

I used to feel guilty/ashamed of my fixation on the mental hospital and my first psychotic episode. That was just because the people around me wanted me to feel shame over it. But now, I don’t. It’s a harmless way for me to cope.

Sometimes i wear the shirt I had on when I got hospitalized and imagine in my mind that it’s happening again. I wear grippy hospital socks while I post on my hospitalcore blog, and pretend that my dinner is hospital food. I listen to the music they played at the hospital and pretend im sleeping on a hard, rubbery psych hospital bed. I don’t do this everyday or even often. I only use this as a coping mechanism when im feeling stressed.

Some may find this weird and even unhealthy. Weird sure, but then again, who isn’t at least a little bit weird. But unhealthy? Far from it. The reason I can gleefully relive one of the most traumatic experiences of my life is because now im doing everything on my own terms. I am in control and I can take a terrible experience and turn it into something enjoyable. How can a harmless coping mechanism I enjoy doing on my own be unhealthy?

[bellofthemeadow]

The Road ahead - ch 4 | Frankie Morales x female reader

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

For most of your married life, you dedicated yourself to waiting for Frankie. After each deployment, you patiently awaited his return, longing for the moment when he would be by your side again. During those nights when nightmares consumed his thoughts, you yearned for him to open up to you, hoping that he would find solace in sharing his pain. And as his addiction spiraled out of control, you held onto the hope that he would recognize his problem and seek help. However, despite your countless protests and pleas, you now find yourself waiting for him once more as he ventures off to Colombia, engaged in God knows what.

But this time is different. Determined, you make a solemn promise to yourself: You will never wait for Frankie again.

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 5.5K

Warning: Applicable for the entire fic / PTSD, drug use and addiction, postpartum depression, abusive familial relationships, self-hatred, unhealthy coping mechanism, explicit sexual content, violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, super angsty

Chapter Summary: A long overdue confrontation takes place where you have to face Frankie's lies.

Notes: Hello again everyone! Oh my God, I am so excited about this brand-new, shiny chapter!! That entire interaction was what brought me to imagine this fic in the first place. I hope you all like as much as I had fun writing it (I am a big slut for angst so beware). Thank you again for the support and let me know what you all think <3 <3 <3

Letting Go

Letter #1

August 19th, 2008

To the prettiest girl at the bar,

Hey there... So, before I go any further, I need to apologize for making my getaway from your place that morning in such a rush. I had to be on base at 0530, and I didn't want to disturb your sleep. Seriously, you looked so peaceful in that cozy bed of yours. If I had any type of artistic talent, I would've painted a masterpiece to capture that moment. I mean, I'm no Picasso or anything, but just imagine the most breathtaking sight you can ever imagine and that's exactly how you looked that morning.

I really hope I'm not coming across as strange or anything by reaching out to you like this. You see, as I was making my exit, I happened to glimpse your address on one of those letters sitting on your kitchen counter. And one of the perks of being an army pilot (aside from flying, of course), is that I tend to have a decent memory and your address stuck with me long enough to scribble it down later at base. Please, please don't get the wrong idea here! I know it might sound a bit, um, stalker-ish, but I promise you, that's not what's going on in the slightest.

I got to admit, I'm feeling a little shy about writing this letter. Swear to you, I've never done anything like this before! It isn’t some cheesy move that army dudes pull to charm the ladies (well, maybe some do), but I promise you, that isn’t my intention at all! I'm afraid I might be rambling here, and the more I go on, the more I feel like I'm messing this up!

To be honest, I didn't know what to do with your address. But it kept catching my eye every morning when I rolled out of bed and right before I hit the hay. The time we spent together just kept playing on a loop in my mind. And you? You've been sticking to my thoughts like glue.

That night we had; it was like sparks ignited in my head. I couldn't let it slip away without taking a shot, without letting you know how I’ve been feeling these past two weeks since that night.

I guess it's kind of unconventional, reaching out to you like this with a letter. But something inside me just wants to explore if there's something even more special that could sprout between us. I can't get your smile out of my head, or the perfect way we connected. It’s never happened to me before. It's like fate brought us together that night. Like our souls were destined to weave together. You’re always on my mind, and I'm aching to learn more about the beautiful soul that's stolen my heart.

So here I am at 3 am in my bunk, writing this letter while holding my breath and hoping you're open to taking a leap with me.

I'll be here, waiting for your reply. But please, know this: if what I felt, that connection I think we shared, doesn't resonate with you, there's no need to feel bad. I don't want you to feel obligated or burdened by any expectations.

Our time together was a precious moment, one that I hold dear and will hold dear forever. And if our hearts don't align in the same way, I understand. We all navigate our own paths, and sometimes they lead us in different directions.

Please, don't feel guilty if you choose not to respond. Our connection, albeit short, was a gift. I cherish the memories we created, and I will hold onto the possibility of what could have been with a grateful heart.

Wishing you nothing but happiness and fulfillment,

The terrible wingman from the bar,

(Francisco Morales)

Letter # 2

September 2nd, 2008.

Dear Francisco,

Your letter was a real shock, to say the least. I woke up the morning you left feeling so empty without you there. I combed through the entire house hoping to find a clue, maybe you had scribbled down your number somewhere. I must have deep-cleaned my apartment twice in the hope of finding a scrap of paper with your name on it. At some point, I thought it might have been a dream, that I had imagined that amazing, gorgeous, and generous man with whom I spent the night. I was sure I was crazy and then, out of nowhere, your letter came. It made me question whether you enjoy giving ladies emotional scares. I’ve barely known you for a full day and it already feels like being on a rollercoaster ride. Is this what life is for you Francisco? The helicopter pilot, always seeking a new high?

I want you to know that there's no need for you to worry. The connection we experienced that night has also stayed with me, occupying my thoughts ever since. It's as if the memory of our time together has become an integral part of myself, refusing to fade away. Your letter touched me in a way that no one else ever has. It was the most romantic and adorable gesture anyone has ever done for me.

I must confess, I feel deeply flattered by the lengths you've gone to express your feelings for me. It's not something you encounter every day—a man putting so much effort into writing a letter to a girl he spent just one night with. And while I cannot deny that such attention could have easily ventured into the realm of being slightly creepy, there is something inexplicable about your gestures that managed to bypass any unease within me.

I can't help but wonder what that means for you and me. Maybe, just as you said, it was fate that brought us together that night.

Francisco, now that you've opened the door to your world, I don’t intend to shut it close. My desire to know you better has blossomed into something more profound. I yearn to uncover the layers of your being and to understand the depths of your passions, dreams, and weaknesses.

Every time I close my eyes, the memory of your hands caressing my skin resurfaces, leaving an indelible mark on my senses. It's as if your touch awakened a dormant part of me, igniting a fire that I never knew existed. I find myself longing for the warmth of your embrace, the tenderness in your eyes, and the sound of your laughter that brought music to my ears.

But, Francisco, I also want to be honest with you. Your sudden disappearance left me confused and uncertain. I need reassurance that you are equally invested in seeing where this might go. I need to know that you won't disappear again without a trace. My parents fought constantly when I was a child. So for me, communication is essential, and I believe that openness and honesty are paramount to laying strong foundations for whatever this might become.

If those terms are agreeable, I will wait for your letter impatiently. In the meanwhile, please take care and make sure to prioritize your safety and try to avoid taking unnecessary risks for me. I can't help but worry about you, and I want nothing more than for you to stay out of harm's way as much as possible.

Warmly

The girl from the bar

Letter # 17

April 19, 2009.

Hola preciosa,

Once again, last night you appeared in my dreams, as you so often do. But this time, it felt unbelievably real, like a distant yet familiar memory that I couldn't quite grasp. We were together at your place, surrounded by warmth and coziness while raindrops fell outside. It was just the two of us, lost in our own little world, wrapped in the comfort of each other's presence. Although the exact details escape me, I vividly remember the way you touched me, as if your fingers left an indelible mark on my skin. If given the chance, I would choose to spend my last moments in your arms, savouring the most beautiful thing of all—your love.

Those mere four days we spent together back in January were nothing short of a cruel tease. It's as if every time I lay my eyes on you, my love for you sprouts like an overenthusiastic weed, making it increasingly excruciating to bid you farewell each time. I'm still amazed at how I managed to be only fifteen minutes late for base that day. Let's just say those extra rounds of push-ups were a small sacrifice in exchange for the extra pleasure of your company.

As I write this, Benny has decided it's the perfect time to hover behind me, boasting about his self-proclaimed status as the brilliant mastermind behind us. Can you believe him? As if his presence that night we met magically transformed him into a love guru. Anyway, Benny says hello, as do Will and Santi, although you haven't met them yet. I truly hope that the next time we all have time off from base, you'll have the chance to meet them. Those guys are like brothers to me, and I really want you to get to know them. I'm certain they'll like you as much as I cherish you.

 I know that until now, we've kept our personal lives somewhat separate, with your work at the library, your family, and your friends, and the same goes for me. But now, I want you to be an integral part of my life, a constant presence. Even when I'm away, I want to know that I am yours and you are mine. You know, I've been doing a lot of thinking since January (Yes it happens often before you say anything), and I've come to realize that I can no longer imagine my life without you by my side. When I think about the future, I see you right there beside me. But if I try to imagine a life without you, it feels incredibly dark, and I feel like everything would lose its meaning.

I know this might sound completely insane. I know people would say that we haven't been seeing each other long enough for these kinds of declarations. But Hermosa, when you know, you know.

When I return from base, all I want is to hold you in my arms until they fall off. I want to be able to hold your hand as we stroll through town, and I want to shout from rooftops that you are mine! Even now, when I look at the picture you gave me, it fills me with a warm feeling that envelops my entire body, and I can't help but proudly show your picture to everyone, telling them how lucky I am that a girl like you would even remotely look at someone like me. You inspire me to be a better person, my lovely one. Everything feels worthwhile with you. I can't imagine a world where we're not together, and I want to think about you every single day for the rest of my life.

My dearest love, you are the sky that stretches above me. Just as the sun illuminates the world on bright days, you radiate warmth and light, filling my heart with boundless joy. When clouds gather and cast their shadows, it is you who transforms the room, turning even the gloomiest moments into something serene and comforting. I know that together we can weather any storms that may come our way.

My love, until Uncle Sam lets us be together again, I will keep on finding my comfort in those four days we shared in January. Those precious moments have woven themselves deep into my heart, and they hold a special place that no distance could ever diminish. I cannot wait to be home with you and create new memories to intertwine with them.

Please take care and know that I love you a little bit more every day.

Yours forever,

Frankie

Letter # 18

April 25th 2009

My sweet Frankie,

Your letter moved me to tears when I first read it. After I put it down, I picked it up again and found myself crying even more. I was afraid that I was the only one experiencing such intense emotions. I worried that perhaps you were more interested in a casual connection and that we might not be fully aligned in our desires for each other and our relationship. However, I'm relieved to discover that I'm not alone in feeling this deeply. Thoughts of you consume my mind constantly, and those days we spent together in January remain some of the most incredible moments of my entire life.

Frankie, I believe you complete me. You fill that void within me that I've always sensed, like finding the perfect missing puzzle piece to finish a picture. You are that missing piece, and since meeting you, my life has finally felt whole.

I couldn't care less about what others may say or think about us, Frankie. You are everything to me, and I want to shout it from my windows so that the whole world can hear. And if anyone wants to say that it's moving too quickly, then to hell with all of them! Every day, I find myself yearning for your presence beside me. I come across little things that remind me of you, and it makes me wish you were here with me. For instance, just yesterday at work, I was going through the donation bin and I stumbled on a children's book about helicopters. It instantly painted a picture in my mind of a little Frankie flipping through the colourful pages, and it filled me with so much warmth and affection.

Frankie, I also really want our lives to blend together. Meeting your friends would be amazing, and I hope you'll get to know mine too. I already had a great time with Benny, so I'm sure your other friends are just as awesome. Since I know how important they are to you, I'm genuinely excited about building bridges with them. I know it's uncertain when you'll be allowed off base or if there's a chance you might be sent far away from me. But maybe, just maybe, the next time you have some leave, we could start building this life together. Waiting any longer feels unbearable to me.

Until we can be together again, my dearest love, you will remain in my heart and appear in my dreams, bringing me some moments of respite while I wait for you. Despite the distance that separates us, my passion for you burns brightly and the flame of my love will keep burning ever bright regardless of the physical divide. With each passing day, I find myself yearning for the next time I will see you, but in the meantime, I will treasure the memories we have started to weave together. And I will find comfort in their warmth and hold onto the hope that our love will grow even stronger with every beat of our hearts.

Yours forever,

Letter # Too many to keep track of

June 12th, 2011

Mi cielo,

Do you remember that summer two years ago? Because I do. I had a two-week leave, and we went to the Miller's for a BBQ. You were wearing a beautiful blue dress that made you look like the sky on a clear summer day. God, you were so beautiful. We were having a great time when Benny told a stupid story that made you laugh so hard that your drink came out of your nose. I remember how embarrassed you got. But then you turned to me, and the embarrassment seemed to melt from your shoulder, and you couldn't stop laughing, your eyes were twinkling like the stars. It was such a beautiful sight and that's when I knew deep down that one day, I would marry you. You would be my wife, someone I would always hold, protect, and cherish until the end of time.

And today, my love, that day has arrived. You know how I struggle in front of a crowd, mi cielo. My words tend to stumble, and I find it challenging to maintain my voice. It's as if all the words jumble up in my throat, eager to escape all at once, resulting in a tangled mess of sentences. That's why I've chosen to write my vows to you in a letter, just like we've been exchanging since the day we first met. You once told me that you could see the truest version of me when I write to you, and I hope that on this special day, through this letter, I can make the side of me that can truly convey the depth of my love for you appear. Better than my spoken words ever could.

My beloved, from this day forward, I make you this lifelong promise. I promise to hold you close, to always offer comfort and support whenever you need it. You can count on me to be there, I will aim to be a steadfast presence in your life, like a rock you can always lean on. I will protect you and care for you for as long as live like a shield guarding against any storms that may come our way. No matter what challenges we face, I will be yours, never doubt that.

But mi cielo, my love for you goes beyond the grand moments that I hope will mark some of our journeys together. I vow to cherish you in the simple gestures also, where I think our love shines the brightest. Its with the gentle touch of our intertwined fingers, the way our laughter always seems to harmonize and in the unspoken understanding that always passes between us without the need for words.

As we walk side by side through the tapestry of life, I promise to be your faithful lover, always by your side, supporting you in every step you take. I will celebrate your victories with joy and stand with you during the challenges we encounter along the way. Together, we will continue to create a beautiful life that I cannot wait to keep on building with you

My beloved, today I pour forth these vows from the depths of my heart. They are not fleeting words but an enduring pledge, a testament to my unwavering love and devotion. As the days unfurl, my affection for you shall only deepen, like roots reaching ever further into the soil. I am filled with gratitude and blessed to call you my partner, my confidant, and my dearest friend.

Today I will say yes to forever with you and I know it will be the sweetest promise of all.

Te amaré siempre

Your Francisco

______________________________________________________________

"I want you to explain whatever the hell this is, Frankie. And no lies this time."

Frankie freezes. He cannot tear his eyes away from the 3 little baggies neatly placed in a row in front of you. Words get stuck in his throat as he tries to find something, anything to say to you.

"You've got nothing to say? Well, let me fill in the blanks for you, Frankie. I found one of these tucked away in your old boots, and the other one in your work drawer. I must admit, I'm still completely fucking baffled. How could you? How could you bring that into our home, Frankie? Especially when you're well aware of how absolutely unacceptable it is, especially with the baby."

Frankie looks around frantically, searching for an explanation. "How did you..."

"How did I find those? Well, I'm so glad you asked, Frankie." A surge of anger fuels your words as you take a step closer, your finger pointing accusatorily towards the door. "Let me shed some light on the precise moment when your little plan crumbled, right there in the car. The fucking car!!!" Your voice slices through the air, causing Frankie to wince.

"I had to learn from Benny and Will how you got back on cocaine! They slapped me in the face with the truth about your lies, how you’ve been deceiving me from the moment the plane touched the ground! How could you not tell me, Frankie? I thought we were doing well; you promised you would talk to me if things were getting hard!"

You take a deep breath, attempting to sort through the jumble of words clamouring to escape all at once. Emotions, accusations, fears, and disappointments vie to be hurled at Frankie.

"Well, let me tell you, hearing about how much your husband loves lying to you from Will and Benny was utter and complete shit! So, I thought I could let myself have a cigarette to help swallow that bitter pill. I knew you stashed some in the dashboard. But what did I find there? Not fucking cigarettes, Frankie! COKE? In the dashboard, really?! You've already had your damn piloting license revoked. Do you want to end up in jail on top of everything? Have you any clue what the cops would do if they caught you with this shit? Goddamn it, Frankie, how could you do this to me? How could you do this to Ella?"

Your voice quivers as you struggle to catch your breath. Years of bottled-up frustration and the pain of Frankie's betrayal finally overflow. Yet Frankie remains silent, avoiding your gaze and looking down at his own shoes in shame.

“FUCKING SAY SOMETHING” You roar as tears of anger start to fall down your face “You can’t just lie to me for weeks and hide cocaine in our home and not say anything!”

"Mi ciel..." Frankie softly starts, but you snap back, "Don't call me that, Frankie! You don’t have any right to call me that, especially not now!" The weight of your words hits Frankie, and his face fills with anguish.

"Please, you have to believe that I'm so damn sorry. I never meant for any of this. I wasn't going to take any of it, I fucking swear..." You scoff, cutting him off, "Oh, you swear? You've got cocaine in your goddamn boots, and you expect me to believe you weren't going to take any? Fuck, do you even have some on you now?" Swearing more than you’ve ever in your life, you realize you've unleashed a torrent of profanity that you can't seem to control. It's as if a dam has burst within you, and you're either unable or unwilling to stop it.

Frankie's silence hangs heavily in the air, his right-hand trembling with restless anxiety. A wave of numbing unease washes over you, and in a voice barely above a whisper, you manage to muster the words, "Frankie, do you have cocaine on you right now?" Frankie's hand, consumed by nerves, instinctively dives into his breast pocket, retrieving a small baggie. The tension in the room intensifies as he places it alongside the others on the table, its size and contents mirroring the rest.

Silence echoes in the room.

"Get out," you say with a stern voice.

"Wait, wait! I'm so damn sorry. I swear, I wasn't planning on touching any of it. It's just... knowing it's there, somehow it eases the pain that I can’t seem to get out of? But I promise you, I had no real intentions of actually using it. Please, please believe me!" Frankie pleads desperately, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and anguish.

"Are you even hearing the words coming out of your own mouth? Maybe you can fool yourself, but you can't fool me. Not anymore. If it was just me, maybe I could brush it off, but I won't let Estrella be exposed to that" you say unwaveringly, though deep inside, the pain of seeing Frankie's face twisted with anguish and devastation pierces your heart. "And let me be crystal clear, Frankie. I don't owe you a damn thing! You're the one who lied, the one who got lost in that haze, the one who chose drugs over your own damn family. Not me. Well, guess what Frankie? I've hit my breaking point."

"Hermosa, please, I'm begging you from the depths of my soul. I promise to change, to become a better person. I'll go to therapy, find a sponsor—whatever it takes to make things right. Please, don't do this to us," Frankie pleads desperately, his voice filled with pain and heartache as if every word is a cry for salvation. “I can’t bear the thought of a life without you, of losing the love that has defined everything for so long. Please hermosa” Frankie’s voice cracks and almost makes you flinch in your resolve. But you steel yourself.

"Don't put the blame on me, Frankie. I've already given you all the support I could. I've respected your silence, comforted you through your nightmares, and endured being pushed away. I've watched you withdraw into yourself, and nothing I did or said seemed to make a difference! I thought that if you didn't want to talk to me, it would be better if you spoke with a professional. I've made efforts to get you into therapy, rescheduling appointments when you didn't like the therapist, and even searched for support groups for veterans in the city, despite knowing well that you've never attended any of them. I've been working double shifts since before Ella was born because you've been grounded. I've held this family together with every ounce of my strength. I've pushed and pushed, but now, Frankie, I'm exhausted. I can't push anymore. What I need from you now is to leave and help yourself," you explain, your voice laden with exhaustion.

"What about Ella? Are you going to deny me the chance to see my own daughter?" Frankie's voice quivers with a mixture of anguish and frustration, as he feels himself losing control. In his desperation, he resorts to lashing out, aware of the vulnerabilities he can exploit, quite like the skilled military man he is, used to exploiting weaknesses in an opponent's defences.

"I can't believe you would even ask me that," you reply, feeling hurt. Frankie avoids your eyes, his own filled with shame for his hurtful words. "I'm not a monster. Of course, you can see Ella. But deep down, we both know it would be better for her if her father were to take care of himself," you continue in a softer tone. "I've tried to heal for you, Frankie, but now I realize this isn't healthy. This is a step you need to take on your own. I'm tired, and I can't do this anymore."

"What the hell happened to 'for better or for worse'? You promised me we'd face any storm together, but the moment things get tough, you fucking disappear," Frankie's voice loudly fills the air.

Raising your gaze, you respond defensively "That's just not fair, and you know it." Letting out a heavy sigh, you gather the strength to continue, "Frankie, I've done everything I can to support you, but it's becoming painfully clear that my love and help have only pushed you deeper into whatever hell you are in right now. Damn it, maybe my mom was onto something. Maybe I am broken or completely unlovable. Maybe there's something wrong with me if my own husband can't trust his wife and turns to drugs instead." Tears well up as you wrap your arms around yourself, the weight of sobs stuck in your throat. The raw emotions in your voice make it clear that this pain cuts deep.

"No, no, no, Mi cielo, don't say that. I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean any of it, fuck, I didn't mean any of it. I know you tried; I know you've been trying for so long. You are not unlovable; you are the most amazing woman in the world. I am the one who doesn’t deserve you, I am the one who has never deserved you. Fuck I can’t believe I would say that to you, how could I make you feel like that." Frankie's voice loses its strength.

"None of this is your fault; it's all on me. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll go and seek help, and I promise you, I'll become the man that both you and Ella deserve," Frankie's voice quivers with remorse as he slowly approaches you, his arms outstretched, seeking to bring you into a comforting embrace.

But you are unable to bear your husband’s touch just yet and so you raise one trembling hand while keeping the other tightly wrapped around yourself, motioning for him to halt. "No, please... I can't handle your touch right now. I... I know I'll flinch, and it's not what you need, what Ella needs," you express with a quiver in your voice, a delicate blend of vulnerability and unwavering determination. "I'll be at work tomorrow, from 8 am to 6 pm, and Mrs. Hu will be taking care of Ella. You can come and collect anything you need during that time."

Frankie's sobs grip him overwhelmingly, tears cascading down his face like a torrent, but he manages to muster a nod of acceptance before slowly making his way toward the door. Just as his trembling hand reaches for the doorknob, he pauses, his gaze locked with yours, his voice barely a whisper choked with emotion.

"I'm really, really sorry, Mi cielo. The pain I've caused you is too much, and I carry the weight of my mistakes like a heavy burden. I want you to know that I take full responsibility for hurting our relationship and our family. It's all my fault, and I can't even find the words to express how deeply I regret everything."

His voice trembles, revealing the desperation in his heart as he goes on, “But please, trust me when I tell you that I won't give up. I won't let cocaine define who I can be. I'll find a way, no matter how tough the road ahead, to mend the broken parts of myself. I'll seek the help and guidance I need to heal, to become the husband and father that both you and Ella deserve."

And with that, he gathers the strength to turn away. His footsteps gradually fade as he leaves the room, leaving behind the lingering echoes of what you hope is Frankie’s sincere promise.

As the door closes, you crumble to the ground, consumed by doubt, pain, and anxiety. The weight of your actions bears down heavily, suffocating any shred of certainty. Questions flood your mind: Have you betrayed the sacred promises of your marriage? The thought gnaws at your conscience, tormenting you relentlessly. Perhaps, if you had been more understanding, more accommodating, this heart-wrenching situation could have been prevented. The self-blame intensifies, distorting your sense of self-worth into a hollow mockery.

Frankie has barely been gone for a few seconds, and yet your heart screams to chase after him. The urge to fix what's broken, to salvage the crumbling remnants of your relationship, grips you with an iron fist. But amidst the chaos of emotions, a flicker of clarity emerges. This painful separation, as agonizing as it feels, is something you need. It's a painful necessity for your own well-being, for the sake of Ella, and for the survival of your fractured family.

Trembling with uncertainty, you repeat to yourself like a desperate mantra, "You need this. You need this." Each word echoes with a haunting mix of determination, fear, and hope, reminding you of the bitter truth that sometimes, the most agonizing path is the only way forward.

You find yourself repeating the words over and over again, the echoes resounding through the shattered fragments of your soul. It becomes a desperate mantra, a chant that reverberates within the hollow chambers of your being: "You can't flinch. You mustn't flinch. You can't flinch. You mustn't flinch." Each repetition, like a plea to yourself, carries the weight of your determination to stay strong, to withstand the emotional turmoil that engulfs you.

Exhaustion eventually overtakes you, guiding your weary steps towards yours and Frankie's bedroom – now yours alone for the foreseeable future. As you reach the edge of your bed, a profound emptiness permeates your soul, accentuating the hollow void within. A sight catches your attention: the green duvet carelessly tossed on the floor, a remnant of the hasty morning departure.

 With a heavy sigh, you pick up the comforter, its fabric still carrying traces of Frankie's presence. Bringing it close to your face, you inhale deeply, drawing in his lingering scent, a bittersweet reminder of the love that once thrived in this room. Wrapping yourself in the duvet, you cocoon your fragile frame, seeking solace in its familiar itchy warmth. The world around you fades away as you surrender to a dreamless slumber, where you hope to find some respite from the relentless ache in your heart.

Next Chapter

[moonspirit]

I know most of your nsfw asks are aruani, but what would you think of a Very Not Healthy Poly relationship between the Alliance pre rumbling.

Like

Post S3 Eren making EMA poly a thing, but bcs he's pulling away and he's not as open, both Armin and Mikasa are suffering due to lack of emotional bonding. After a while, Mikasa starts trying harder while Armin gets a small breakdown due to it being only about sex.

Jean having both the looks and the reputation, and using sex as a coping mechanical while adamantly refusing to admit it is a coping mechanism.

Connie having genuine rizz and Sasha having her 300k+ slowburn with Niccolo.

Jearmin happening after Armin hatefucking Floch after a really low moment w Jean doing the actual aftercare.

On the other side of the ocean Reiner having many people jump at him for his honorary marleyan status, women specifically for the marriage benefits, but Reiner being unable to actually do it bcs of all the blood that won him the reputation.

Bonus if EMA started w Eremika just going at it while Armin was in the room till he mentioned it and then they invited him to join.

Just, really fucked up sex dynamics between traumatised teenagers w no access to therapy

[N/SFW]

Ahaha, hello and no problem, all ideas welcome~!

Veeerrryyy intriguing tho! I don't have much trouble imagining this because 1. It's not healthy, yes!! And 2. These kids have been through way too much to not resort to the easiest way to forget everything and feel good - sex.

I've said it before, but sex can be a profoundly deep ritual to go through, it has the potential to transcend visible boundaries of tangible emotion. At the same time, sex can also become one of the easiest things to turn to in times of weakness. Given the multitude of issues our characters have, it's possible to picture them depending on sexual pleasure as a means of consoling themselves from various lows.

EMA are a whole other level of unhealthy tho. Eren's emotional distance and bottling up, Mikasa's fear of ruining everything by asking for what she really wants and Armin's self-doubt and insecurity over his place among them. Man, I can imagine any kind of poly relationship between them (particularly one that's sexual) teeming with awfully unhealthy vibes. In a way sex becomes the closest thing they have to proper communication - it's easier to express things via body language than putting them in words, a thing that's especially a problem for Armin because he's not bad with words and would really like to receive verbal reassurance... but unfortunately, the other two are terrible at it. And at some point, when the sex too, grows obsolete for obvious reasons, it's just plain suffering because nobody's getting what they want.

Ugh, pain.

Jean really seems to me (and this is a personal hc of mine) to be someone who is very aware of his appeal and his attractiveness, wants to use it for his own pleasure, but is unable to really find any satisfaction from it. What he craves is some deep emotional connection, something that is precious and treasured. Casual sex, then, is only a temporary way out of the despair of not having such a relationship, and offers him a few minutes of high while sending him to the ditch right afterwards.

Jearmin tho? Oh boy. I can see Armin giving in to hate sex tendencies with Floch lol, what with how he can become self-destructive at the hands of someone who doesn't really appreciate him or take care of him - in fact, that's an heavily abusive relationship that can also be hard to get out of. But Jean being the one to deliver aftercare to Armin, telling him the real things he needs to hear and comforting him, melting away the lies and cruel words he just received at the hands of Floch, seems to me to be the one tiny shred of wholesome-ness in all of these terribly unhealthy relationships lol.

Pre-rumbling Connie's the only normal one here. Really. And Sasha really does deserve her fairytale romance with Niccolo ft. Plenty of food (this was gold haha xD).

When it comes to Reiner though. Really nice point you make about him not being able to get it on with the people that flock to him because of his sins - I've never thought of it that way! It makes sense tho - he's a deeply guilty character, shouldering nearly all of (if not entirely) the weight of RBA's mission on Paradis. He has a conscience, and maybe he will think he doesn't even deserve the small pleasures of the flesh because of what he did. The denial is a punishment he inflicts on himself.

You can't forget Annie and Pieck tho. They too carry so much of trauma. More so Annie, who is touch starved, has never been loved or cared for, has only been used for her lethality, and was forced into a mission she had no desire for. I see her hungrily devouring any kind of emotional connect she gets, especially if that's sex, since it's easier as mentioned before. She's really not good with words either, so yeah, sex to offer some temporary relief and make her feel like she's actually something more than just a weapon of war.

The same for Pieck. Among all of the warriors, she's always seemed the most sensible to me, pragmatic and grounded in reality. She, more than anyone else, knows her place in the world, as an Eldian, as a warrior, and as a shifter. With Annie gone, she probably had nobody to really "talk" to or become close with, and while I see her recognizing that sex isn't the solution for her loneliness, she's still a human and a young girl at that; for a few minutes during the act, she feels connected to someone. And who can blame her for that?

A lot of wonderful potential for character exploration here ._. Thank you for sharing!

[sensivs]

What do you think of angst where ghost and soap are together but soap finds another person then ghost develops depression and very unhealthy coping habits like smoking and drinking

I mean, I could do it?

But the person will be y/n if you don’t mind, I don’t make story posts unless they include the reader

————————————

Basic summary: soap is a WHORE

Disclaimer: I do not condone in using unhealthy coping mechanisms, if you are feeling severely depressed please tell someone, I’m always opened eared and I’m here for all of you:( I love you guys sm

———————————

No saw this happening in a million years. Soap and ghost splitting up? What kind of timeline were they living in?

Soap loved ghost dearly, nothing could separate them. They were the best partners in crime in all of history.

But when you were introduced to 141.. it all changed. Soap now had eyes for you, you were.. perfect.

You were everything he had ever imagined, from your hair to your thighs. He just found you perfect in every way.

Ghost was a bit slow to realize it, after being dumped with mass amounts of affection after being in a family that never gave you anything.

It takes time for you to really take it in. In the mean time while ghost was horribly blinded by love.

Soap had been sneaking around just to see you, the two of you hit it off. You two both shared interests that him and ghost would never be able to talk about.

Gaz was the first to realize soap’s actions, he grew more resentful towards soap and kept his distance to a maximum. But soap didn’t care, you were with him so why would he ever stress about loosing a friend over a man he would spend the rest of his life?

A knock was heard on ghost’s door, the man looked up from his phone and sighed. Getting up from his creaky bed, he opened the door to see Kyle.

“Lieutenant.. I really have something to tell you..” ghost quirked a brow, Garrick? Calling him lieutenant? Gosh this must be really important.

Ghost grew wary of gaz, him and soap were big pranksters and sadly he was always the victim. Come to think of it, Gaz and soap hadn’t pranked him in about 5 months.

Ghost then furrowed his eyebrows at that thought, “ok.. come in” Kyle said a quick thank you and walked in.

Ghost followed behind him, “I.. I think you should sit down for this one” ghost hummed and walked to his bed, sitting on the edge waiting for whatever Gaz had in store for him.

“So.. long story short, soap is cheating on you, and I know that you don’t believe me but just look” gaz handed ghost his phone with his photos open.

There, was a shit ton of pictures and videos of soap flirting with you along with taking you two to secluded areas.

Ghost absolutely couldn’t believe his eyes, Soap..? His Johnny??? Cheating on him???

No this just couldn’t be.. could this be a dream?? It was too surreal to be a dream. Ghost was on a verge of having the most worst break down and excused gaz out of his room.

Where he cried, for hours and hours on end. The tears just couldn’t stop for him, the man he thought was the love of his life.. was getting rid of him like this..??

Couldn’t he been more civilized and told him straight up that he didn’t love him? Ghost’s mind ran in circles rapidly, making him dizzy.

He just.. he just couldn’t do it

A few days later ghost retired from 141 and the army all together. He couldn’t help but just feel so empty.

So what was his answer for this?

Smoking and drinking

Every night a cigarette would be lit or a bottle of beer would be opened, it was the only way he could stop the emptiness inside him.

He just.. couldn’t help it

———————————————

I LITERALLY HAD A BREAK DOWN BEFORE POSTINF RHIS DJSKMSFKSKMSKS LMSMSKLAOOOO

But heyyyyy guys i posted 😱😱😱❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[deligfunstuffdah3]

why alastor and angel should interact more;(not in shipping context)

1.) funniest fruity mfs, both yap a lot so if we combine their yapping it cancels out and forms a third thing: projection and relatability.

2.) have a lot in common, examples:

☻ both in contracts

☻ both wear "masks" to hide their true feelings

☻ possible daddy issues?? (idk)

☻ like to deflect the convo away from them

☻ unhealthy coping mechanisms

☻ most likely come from a broken or abusive household

3.) huskerdust becomes a thing and angel becomes friends with alastor imagine the dilemma this would cause?? drama?? angst?? maybe alastor will close his mouth, maybe husk will drag him?? better yet angel air him out for his hypocrisy bc as he should FR!! GET THAT FRAUD

4.) angel is the sole reason we get alastor lore (pilot, ep 5)

5.) and this

6.) Just give us a simple "Hello Angel" "Hey Al" and that'll make the fandom go chaos

[wormsin]

i hope this isnt very out of the blue—it’s just that these two have been rotating in my head for days (though tbh when have they stopped but anw), in your opinions, how do you think bruce and dick’s relationship can be healthy(ier)? like, ignoring the whole “the nature of comic demands them to always be unhealthy for conflicts/dramas’ sake”, (how) do you think they can move forward from all the bad things that have happened between them (especially if one counts spyral into it)?

i am also constantly rotating them and throwing them into rat mazes! endlessly entertaining.

my answer to this question is actually my ongoing series earth-w1 or: It's all part of the fairy tale. (see what I did there?) it's my fix-it AU set a year(?) after Spyral where Bruce and Dick get together. their relationship is very much a work in progress and messy but they are trying their best! hopefully I'll get the time to write the whole character arcs I have in mind for them.

so if we're talking comics Bruce and Dick? and we're not cherry picking the worst moments and dysfunction out? whether platonic, familial, or romantic, their relationship is deeply codependent. they need to grow as individuals before their relationship can be healthy.

they're great at ignoring their past conflicts and forgiving each other (without communicating that), because they always come back to nearly unconditional trust and love for each other. they don't need to open up old wounds between them, but they should. this is how comics deal with their issues—sweeping them under the rug, *maybe* with a few panels of communication where Bruce indirectly apologizes and Dick dismisses his need to apologize.

that's not actually good in the long run, and gives us situations like Dick coming back from Spyral with a cheery "family is everything!" smile, a character dissonance that *I* explain by Dick's desperate "Im okay" maladaptive coping mechanism.

anyway.

this is how to improve their relationship on the surface:

1. they realize that they both want each other around, and then actually spend lots of time together.

2. Dick helps call Bruce out on bullshit and helps improve his relationships. Dick soothes Bruce's emotional dysfunction by being a constant of unconditional love.

3. Bruce reassures Dick of his place in his life and the family, soothing Dick's anxiety about belonging.

4. the foundations of dysfunction in their relationship remain, so as soon as there's a crisis they fall into the same patterns as before, causing strain in their other relationships. Bruce can't be out of control or have Dick nearly-die without losing it. Dick drops everything to emotionally rescue him. Dick doesn't allow others to care for him.

this is how to improve their relationship deeply:

1. Bruce becomes brave enough to let Dick in past his armor, and shares and processes his childhood trauma. he recontextualizes what Batman is.

2. Dick accepts that he is worthy of love himself, and allows himself to be imperfect.

3. they actually spend time together.

4. Bruce makes a genuine effort to make amends for his past actions, regardless of the outcome. most importantly, Jason, whose death fundamentally changed Bruce. I dont think Jason needs to forgive Bruce or even give him the time of day, but Bruce must try and *not punish anyone if it doesnt go how he wants*.

probably the way to do this is to give both Bruce and Dick serious mental breakdowns. and maybe semi-retire them. I imagine them mellowing out a lot more when they're older and retired from vigilantism.

you can make their relationship and characters more, or less, fucked up but I believe the recipe still stands because Bruce's protective control and Dick's perfectionist caregiving are core dysfunctions for their characters.

[slitherred]

Humor me for a moment here...

It’s been 9 years and I still believe they should’ve kept Obito alive.

If they can pardon both Orochimaru for his human experimentation, Kabuto for his war crimes, and Sasuke for being a dumbass, they can think of an excuse to make Obito a functioning individual of society and have him face the fact he was the cause of most world-altering events in the span of the entire series. I think killing him is a coward’s way out, and he didn’t deserve the peaceful ending he got.

And Instead of Boruto, we could’ve gotten a series focused on Kakashi in his Hokage era. The man is as popular as Naruto and Sasuke, and I’m tired of anime shows that base sequels on the “new generation.” It’s been done too many times. I believe Kakashi is beloved enough by the fans that this idea would be profitable like the original.

Plus, Kakashi has had enough trauma to make a script three seasons long. You can cover stories about losing people, dealing with grief, depression, PTSD, clan politics (what’s it like to be the only person left in a clan that isn’t the Uchiha or what were the consequences of owning a sharingan as a non-Uchiha), being a former child soldier, being a burnt out child prodigy, etc. instead of being relegated as a Hokage that blew up the moon once.

Listen. Imagine a series where Kakashi finally spoke with a Yamanaka therapist since his emotional crutch wasn’t the ideal hero that he thought. Imagine a series where the big bad villain acknowledges the pain he left in the world and actively tries to do his best every day in a place where everyone wants him dead. And imagine Mr. Worldwide, creator of 1000 Years of Death, Kakashi Hatake, trolls the world with Obito “Tobi” Uchiha.

Imagine the shenanigans! We can finally see what these two can do as a pair after it was hyped up in the Kakashi Gaiden arc but fell flat in the 4th Shinobi arc. If these two can frustrate people in their immediate vicinity as individuals, picture them working together and in a position of power. It would be glorious!

Click Keep Reading for extra filling:

***

Address Neji’s death by having Gai be nice to everyone, except for Obito. Obito understands his anger and, due to guilt, stupidly comes up with an “eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth” approach by being his sparring partner i.e. his punching bag.

Kakashi is Stressed™ managing his two best friends. This will also test Gai’s capacity for forgiveness (and finally have a storyline about him that isn’t about youth, challenges, and taijutsu). Meanwhile, we can also have a role reversal where Kakashi is the one helping Gai out of unhealthy coping mechanisms and grief.

***

To calm down people who see Obito as a threat, they seal most of his chakra so that he can perform basic techniques, enough to complete unpaid B to S rank missions as part of his “community service.” His Sharingan, both of them, will be inaccessible so he can no longer perform hacks. In secret, only Kakashi, Naruto, and Sakura, AKA the heroes who ended the war, are trusted enough to be able to unseal it (they can have matching tattoos for this, other characters think it’s just an OG Team 7 thing but it’s a key lol). So if a major threat like, say, the Otsusuki comes, and Naruto and Sasuke needs an extra boost to turn the tides in their favor, there will be an epic scene of Team 7 (minus Sasuke) unsealing Obito’s chakra, and his eyes slowly bleed into red and spins into Mangekyou. He charges into the battlefield with Susanoo in Mokuton armor.

(Bonus scenes of Kakashi partially unsealing his chakra so that Obito can use Kamui to buy the Hokage precious “reading material” from other nations. Obito loudly complains about his chosen book topic.

Sakura asks Obito to bring her medical plants from different parts of the world.

Naruto pleads with Obito to take Sasuke and him to the Kamui dimension since they are no longer allowed to spar in training fields due to excessive property damage.)

***

Naruto gets frequent Hokage training with Kakashi. Obito is there to keep him from falling asleep by constantly challenging the policies and ideals set by former Hokages.

Naruto watches Kakashi and Obito debate and then later argue topics until they end up burning the original handbook to rewrite their own.

(Naruto is surprisingly good at editing and quickly finding loopholes in writing. Later, they visit the memorial stone to pray for Jiraiya.)

***

Part of Obito’s new job description is to be the Hokage’s 24/7 bodyguard (if he’s not out doing missions). It’s partly because the Anbu commander who usually handles the ninja president’s security is tired of Kakashi’s antics, and partly because the people are more comfortable if one of the war heroes is beside the Major Threat™ all the time. Obito has to constantly juggle between keeping them away from both his and Kakashi’s enemies and making sure the Hokage isn’t late to any meetings. Somehow, the latter is harder than the former.

Obito wonders how an ex-terrorist became a glorified secretary.

***

Obito and Yamato acknowledge their history in the 4th shinobi war. Surprisingly, Yamato forgives but doesn’t forget.

They compare notes on their solution and regularly train in the Forest of Death. The forest became five times larger and deadlier. The chuunin exams became harder.

***

Kakashi tries to diplomatically pass anti-violence, and pro-mental health laws, and raise funds for the orphanage and veterans. Meanwhile, Obito uses his talent in gaslighting and gatekeeping to out-manipulate the elders into losing debates.

It would be satisfying to see Danzo’s best friends disappointed and angry while Kakashi does his eye smile thingy. Behind him is Obito sticking his tongue out because he secretly never grew up.

(I can’t believe the elders are still alive in Boruto, like wtf.)

***

Remember the time Obama hired an Anger translator? That, but it’s them.

***

Sukea and an “unknown” anbu that suspiciously looks like Tobi messes with the kids wanting to know what’s behind Kakashi’s mask. Sukea creates the intrigue to unite the kids into a single goal and trick them into practicing teamwork. Not-Tobi does the subtle sabotage.

***

If the children ask Obito his backstory, he replies with, “That’s classified.”

If they ask Kakashi, he keeps telling them different ridiculous stories until Obito becomes some kind of myth to the kids.

“The Hokage said he was an orphaned circus performer and he got adopted by a vigilante to save us all from a demonic tree!”

“Woah! The Hokage said he protected us from a moon alien by challenging her to a dance-off!”

***

Tobi and Sukea annoying their way into infiltration missions.

Their backstory: Sukea is a photographer and Tobi is an aspiring actor. They got lost on the road to life and whoops accidentally stumbled upon this secret base. Can we have directions to the nearest artist convention, please? And that dead body was already there before we got here, what do you mean?

***

Adults are afraid of Obito. Teenagers think he’s lame for being a nerd that knows too much history. Grandmas still like him. Kakashi still makes fun of him for being a crybaby. Naruto makes fun of them both for being old. Sakura makes fun of Kakashi, Obito, and Naruto for being weirdos. Ino makes fun of Sakura for being teammates with the weirdos.

***

They visit Rin’s grave yearly. Kakashi keeps thanking her for slapping Obito back to life.

***

The Hokage gets invited by the academy to discuss the origins of Konoha. Obito keeps correcting him like, no, that’s propaganda bullshit, this is what happened.

He made twenty-eight kids and their instructor cry.

(He had also discussed in length how Madara Uchiha can't pee when strangers are near him. That he's still bitter about not being a better stone skipper than Hashirama "God of Shinobi" Senju. That he had an annoying habit to ramble and then laugh like a loon. And he has a face on his boob. Kids, when a centenarian ancestor offers you to help fix the world, say no.)

***

It has been apparent to all paper desk ninjas that to expedite their documents to be stamped and signed by the Hokage, it needs to go through their bodyguard so the bodyguard can bully the Hokage into prioritizing their paperwork.

In retaliation, Kakashi uses his knowledge of Obito’s history with handling Akatsuki and Kiri’s financials*, then points out major flaws in Konoha’s fund allocation, making Obito frustrated enough to audit everything for him. Despite being a mastermind manipulator, he falls for it all the time.

Tsunade visits the office and could not believe the lack of paper towers. Kakashi takes all the credit. Tsunade is impressed. “Damn, kid, I should have made you Hokage years ago!”

*Flashback: Back in his time as a villain, Obito had to audit Akatsuki’s expenses because Kakuzu is known to allocate part of their funds to his account. As for Kiri, Obito was puppeteering the Mizukage and to be convincing, it means doing the Mizukage's job. Realizing the role was a drag, Obito’s dream of becoming Hokage was buried in piles of paperwork and died six feet under.

***

Obito is still helpless when it comes to old people in need.

But at least now he can force Kakashi to help.

***

After discussing in length about Sasuke’s trauma from the Uchiha massacre, and Obito’s trauma as the black sheep of the family, they start working on rebuilding the clan’s name.

They’ve also found a rule in Konoha that once a clan has more than one person, a clan head should be identified.

No one wants to be the new clan head. It’s too much mind-numbing work even if the population of the clan is just two so they started arguing. Obito argues Sasuke is the son of the former clan head, and Sasuke argues that Obito is older than him, and has experience with “handling foreign affairs” (if you can even call it that).

This doesn’t get resolved until Sasuke marries a poor soul who gets voted by them to become the new clan head. Sasuke ends up in multiple divorces.

***

Kakashi starts using his father’s tanto again. He stops being the Copy Nin and starts being the new White Fang of Konoha.

***

On the anniversary of Sakumo's death, Obito uses his monologuing skills to aggressively defend Sakumo's last mission. Backed up by Team 7 with Yamato and Sai, they are fighting for Sakumo's grave to be transferred to the resting place of the heroes as he deserved.

Kakashi covers Obito's mouth once he starts insulting the council and elders. "Will of fire, my ass! You preach about teamwork and nakama, but easily sacrifice one of your own for the sake of a mission. You're all hypoc-!"

Naruto pitches in. "Those who break the rules are scum, but those who abandon their friends are worse than scum, dattebayo!"

Needless to say, they are finally realizing that, oh god, there are two Narutos now and they will never know peace until this gets resolved.

***

The series ends once Naruto becomes the Hokage. Handing over the hat went off without a hitch…

Except for Kakashi being two hours late. Kakashi and Obito were busy retelling Naruto’s life to Kushina’s grave.

***

What do you think?