#SORRY just bad bout of sudden depression

[hadoriel]

Love suddenly bursting into tears because I want my life to mean something but life is inherently meaningless

[nabinochu]

I'm Fine

. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

Y'all ever wish you had a Mammon irl to tell you it's all gonna be ok? Bc I sure as hell do. More comfort, are we surprised? I swear I have other ideas brewing that aren't just Sad™ lol

Characters: Mammon (Obey Me)

Genre: Hurt/ Comfort.

Warnings: Talk of depression/ dealing with mental illness. Slight swearing.

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I can feel Mammon's presence behind me. He shuffles from one foot to the other, unsure how to approach until he seemingly can't hold back anymore.

"Hey, ya ok?

I can't break out of my trance, answering on autopilot. 

"Yeah, m'fine."

I hear him grumble as he takes a couple of steps closer. 

"Don't believe ya."

"M'fine."

"No. Ya ain't." He's standing next to me now. I can feel his concerned eyes bore into the side of me.

"What makes you say that?" I can't bring myself to look at him, knowing that if I do, I'll break immediately.

"Well, for starters, how long y've been brewin' an' stirrin' that coffee. Second, I've lost count of how many cups y've had today." He puts his hand over mine to stop me stirring the over-brewed coffee. I jump a little at the sudden contact.

"Third, we've barely been talkin'. All yer messages are super dry. And lastly," Mammon cups my face and makes me look at him. His eyes soften, though I don't miss how his expression falls a little when he takes me in.

 "Those bags under yer eyes are lookin' damn heavy recently." 

My breath hitches in my throat. Like a crooked hand creeping higher and higher and closing around my neck, I feel the lump forming and tightening. My eyes sting as it gets harder and harder not to crumble in Mammon's warmth. I try to stutter out some words, some hollow excuse to maintain the facade and ensure he wouldn't worry. But it's too late for that. I know he sees right through me. My chest burns. I can't find my breath. My eyes are everywhere except on Mammon as I try to fight the storm swirling in the pit of my stomach. 

Pathetic. I tell myself. Weak. Burdensome. The brothers don't even like y-

"Hey! Look at me." Mammon grasps my shoulders and leans down to meet my eyes as if he could read my thoughts. "Doncha know? I love ya. So much."

A choked sob finally bubbles painfully from my throat, and my vision blurs with tears. 

Mammon firmly pulls me to his chest, the front of his shirt becoming soaked instantly. I hear his heart thrumming against his chest, clearly fighting his nerves for my sake. 

"Let it out. M'here." He sways us gently.

"It's ok if things're bad right now. But ya don't have to struggle alone. Let me carry some of the weight, kay? The Great Mammon is strong enough."

We stayed like this for some time until I had finally cried all I could. I feel numb, my head throbs. But I feel safe in Mammon's arms. 

He shifts to rest his chin on top of my head. 

"Wanna talk 'bout it?"

I think for a moment, trying to find my words. My voice is hoarse, barely a whisper.

"Sometimes, I just feel so sad. I can't explain it or describe it." I grip the material of his shirt.

"I'll be doing just fine. Then, the second I become aware that I'm doing fine, the darkness creeps back in. Sometimes, there are triggers. Other times, there aren't. I wish it made sense."

I feel Mammon's hand tracing patterns on my back as he listens.

"And sometimes, I think this is it; I've finally hit rock bottom. But then I find out there's a fucking basement."

He doesn't speak for a moment, seemingly searching his mind for the right thing to say. 

"I'm....so sorry." He settles, letting out a breath he had been holding. "I wish I could take that pain away from ya."

I snake my arms around his waist and breathe in his scent. I turn my face to place a gentle kiss on his heart.

"You already do just by being around." I breathe. "You mean so much to me, Mams. More than you know. I can't imagine my life without you now." I croak out. 

I feel him tense at my show of affection. He pulls me in tighter as if I would get snatched away from him if he let go, even for a second. 

"W-well, of course! I'm yer first, after all!" 

He takes a moment to gather himself and then speaks with sincerity. 

"Yer my human. My one and only. I don't want to lose ya."

His voice becomes small. 

"Can't lose ya."

"I'm sorry for worrying you." 

"Nothin' to apologise for." He shakes his head. "Just stick around, yeah?" He pulls back just enough to meet my puffy eyes once more. I nod in agreement. He seems to consider something for a second, not entirely satisfied. 

"Pinky Promise?" He holds his hand up to me, little finger extended.

I can't help the small smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth. Ah yes, the Avatar of Greed, the second strongest of the seven lords of the Devildom, who deals in pinky promises. My heart squeezes at the sight of the demon before me. My darkness seems to ease in this moment as I wrap my pinky tightly around his.

"Pinky Promise."

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[honeybee2807]

When I first read Cursed Child at 12, at the time, I was aspiring to be a psychologist and was researching a lot on depression and anxiety(especially for kids and teens since I wanted to help them the most). When I read Albus' character, I kept seeing many signs of him being depressed. The way he seemed to neglect himself(there was a line that described his face as sallow[which is a word used to show unhealthiness and self neglect]), his bouts of anger and lashing out, and his general upset and low self esteem. And since bullying and family issues were top reasons for a child to be suicidal, I was convinced.

Now I'm realising that he's more likely of a candidate for a personality disorder(cough... bipolar ...cough). I admit, I'm not as well-versed in personality disorders(so feel free to point out if I'm wrong).

I remember the first time I read CC, I was a bit confused at Albus' sudden mood changes which I deemed to be unrealistic. A classic example was during his third year. He fought with his dad and got angry to the point that he burnt his hogsmede permission form and had a rant, but the moment he saw Scorpius, he instantly went all cheery and exclamation marks??? Normally it takes a while for someone to calm down from a fight and it would be fine if Albus was relieved or just slightly happy. But he went full on exclamation marks and he def wasn't angry at Scorpius.

But that didn't convince me that something could be wrong. The fact that did was the whole time travel plot. Albus read to me as downright cheerful and his insane plot to travel time couldn't even be discouraged by his bestie who claimed multiple times that this was a bad idea and Albus lost his mind. It was like a switch had flipped and he was opposite. Albus was still Albus sure but he acted different than what was told to us. Of course that could be also because he wasn't in Hogwarts which was a major cause of his distress.

But here me out. Once Rose and Hugo got deleted out of existence, it would be a sensible thing to realise that time travel is not a good idea. Scorpius certainly realised it(tho he was skeptical from the start). But Albus didn't and decided that it was a good idea to try again. Either he was a complete idiot or delusional. Then he gave a monologue how losers have powers and abilities(err wot???) and managed to convince Scorpius to try again.

Albus finally seems to come to his senses afterwards(thank god!).

I was incredibly confused for years. Then I read this fanfic where Albus was portrayed as bipolar and then it clicked. All of Albus' overly cheerful behavior and crazy ideas could be described as manic. And I don't think really need to explain the depression part to y'all.

Again, I could be wrong. I'm extremely sorry if I misunderstood bipolar disorder and mixed it up. But yeah, that was my interpretation.

[mephinomaly]

[TL] PYSCHOBREAK/Chapter 10

[ This post uses Ois~su ♪ ]

Time: One week later. The day before the “vampires'” subjugation battle, tentatively named Flashback. The day UNDEAD first met

Location: In Hasumi Keito’s family temple's graveyard

Rei: Bein’ a ghost must be fun ♪ Bein’ a ghost must be great ♪

Don’t have to work , don’t have to study, you can just have a concert from noon 'til midnight~♪

Adonis: What’s wrong, Sakuma-senpai? Have you been drinking?

Rei: I’m not old enough to drink. But if I was, it would probably be a lot of fun~♪

Adonis: I don’t understand why, but you are in strangely high spirits…. Recently you have had a gloomy aura about you, so I am glad to see you feeling better.

Rei: Fuwah. That’s amazin’, you really noticed I was depressed?

No matter how much you say you like ‘n respect them, humans will never bother to understand or even look at other people.

Adonis: I only noticed due to the fact that I have known you the longest, Sakuma-senpai, therefore I noticed your change in behaviour early on.

Rei: So much for humility. Even my little brother, who I’ve been with since the very day he was born, has no idea what I’m goin’ through.

I want him to know so like an attention seeker I say “hey hey, let’s play a game! What is your oniichan thinking about?”

Adonis: Is that why he thinks you're annoying and hates you?

Rei: H-he doesn’t hate me! The Bible says that a younger brother loves his older brother as much as his older brother loves his younger brother!

Adonis: I see. As my view was incorrect, I apologise.

Rei: Adonis-kun, anyone ever told you you’re a joke killer?

Adonis: Killer…? I’ve been trying to keep a low profile so I do not earn a shameful nickname such as that.

I am a foreigner. Even if you don’t want to, you stand out in this country. It’s sad, but that is often how things go. Especially mothers with children tend to be strangely wary of me.

That’s why I believe it is better for me to be a good child, who is quieter than needed, serious, and harmless.

Rei: Hm. Since you have a different point of view, you see things most people wouldn’t see.

How could I think you of all people, was the person behind those “vampires”?

It’s been worse than usual, but it feels like my thoughts are bein’ influenced by someone. Feels pretty bad.

It’s like I’m bein’ forced to be a character in some story told by someone I know nothin’ about.

Is it just a puberty thing? Whaddya think, Adonis-kun?

Adonis: I don’t know. But I do think that accusing me of being the culprit and denouncing me was out of character for you.

Fortunately, everything seems to have been cleared up but to be honest, it hurt me a little.

Even you misunderstood me.

Rei: Ah, yeah, I’m sorry. I really love you though, you know?

Adonis: It’s not a matter of liking or disliking me. It’s about recognition and understanding.

Koga: …What are you two talkin’ ‘bout?

You said we was practicin’ for the battle against the “vampires” today… Yet Hakaze ain’t even here.

Thought you’d bring him with you Sakuma-senpai, and uh, who’s this?

Adonis: I am Otogari Adonis. I have told you my name numerous times.

Koga: Adonisu… What’s this got to do with him?

Is this really okay? Can we even beat these “vampires”? Of course, if Sakuma-senpai is here we won’t have a problem but—

Rei: Realllyyy now. Maybe I’ll betray you again like I did at the Deadmanz live, hm?

I don’t really like it when people depend on me. Doesn’t really do it for me ya know.

C’mon, Wan-chan, tell me somethin’ inspirational ♪

Koga: I dunno how to do that…

I wrote a song for the Drefes, incase we hadta perform somethin’. I was jus’ tryin’ my hand at writin’ a song myself.

Rei: Really now? Impressive, you’re lookin’ like a real band member ♪ Go on then, show me ♪

Koga: I-its not very good so don’t have too high of expectations please![1]

I only picked this up as a hobby in the past few years, and since I’m self-taught, I’m still not perfect so—

Rei: What’s with the sudden keigo? Stop it, it’s not you.

Durin’ the Deadmanz live you was bitin’ ‘n snappin’ at me, weren’t ya?

Koga: I was excited then… But now we’re in a band together, and we’re closer, you somehow seem more impressive to me.

I-I’m nervous… I apologise if I made you uncomfortable, I don’t want to upset you again so quickly.

Rei: Upset me? Interestin’ wordin’... Hah, hahaha?

Ah, yeah. Wanna try playin’ that song of yours?

♪~♪~♪

[ ☆ ]

koga starts using polite speech, which as you may know, is not something he does often lol

Chapter 9

Chapter 11

[metalsprinkles]

Bad Days - Johnny "Soap" MacTavish 

Warnings: semi-detailed descriptions of depression. this is purely a self-indulgent work cause i've been having a very tough time recently, but thinking about the 141 makes it better! Also not beta read cause I refuse to reread my work🙃Enjoy!!!

You'd had a shitty day at work, and all you wanted was to come home and wallow in your feelings. Johnny had been deployed for months, and he didn’t have the slightest clue on when he'd be back home. He hadn't been able to communicate with you regularly either, due to him having very spotty reception. 

Walking up to your door, you pull your keys out, when all of a sudden, the door swings open. And standing there you see your boyfriend. Your Johnny. 

He expected you to be excited. Thrilled, even, at his return. What he hadn't expected was your face crumbling and sobs falling from your lips. Immediately, he takes you into his arms and starts to comfort you. 

"It's okay, sweet boy, everything's alright. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. 'M gonna take real good care of ye, I promise." 

Rubbing his hands along your arms, he ushers you inside. "It's too cold bun, need tae get you inside"

He sits you down on the couch gently and wraps a blanket around you. "You stay right here, I’ll be right back, my love. Going tae make you some tea and bring a snack for you"

Keeping true to his word, Johnny's back in less than 5 minutes, immediately taking his place next to you on the couch. Once again taking you into his arms, he lets you fall apart in his embrace. His face fixes into a grimace at seeing and hearing the sobs rack your body. It feels like someone's reached into his chest and pulled out his heart. He hates seeing you like this. The only thing he can think is that he needs to fix it. He can’t have his baby being sad especially when he’s there in person.

"Shhh, yer face is much too handsome for these tears, dove," he whispers to you. "Need ye tae talk tae me 'bout what's going on"

"Just a bad day," you respond.

He scoffs. "Seems like more than just a bad day, love."

"Missed you. It started with a bad day, then it was a bad week, and before I knew it, I'd felt bad for a whole month," you sighed.

"Why didn't you tell me bonnie?"

Hiding your face in his chest you reply, "Didn't wanna bother you. You were working. Don't wanna distract you with my whining. It's not even about anything important."

He tilts your head up with his index finger, "If it's enough to upset you this much, it's important. Anything that upsets you is important to me. My job is tae keep you safe and happy. How am I supposed tae do that if you don't tell me what's going on, sweet boy?"

"I dunno," you mumble while once again burying your face, but in his neck this time. 

His chuckle reverberates throughout your body. "Silly boy, I can't see your pretty face when you hide from me like that."

"I've been crying all day Johnny, I look horrible."

Johnny raises his eyebrows and gives you a stare that makes you second guess whether or not you just insulted his mohawk. "Don't say shite like that, bonnie. 'S the furthest thing from the truth. Yer the most beautiful boy I've ever seen in my life. Don't care how you think you look, I'll always see you for what you are, and you truly are beautiful. Inside and out. That being said, you look gorgeous even in this moment"

"You're gonna make me start crying again babe"

His gaze softens and he takes your face in his hands again. With a soft peck to your temple, he says, "Well let's avoid that, why don't we, hmm? Do you wanna talk about what's bothering you anymore?"

"Mmm not right now. Just wanna snuggle with you for a bit. But we can talk about it later, maybe?"

He nods, "Whenever you're up to it, bun. I'm always here to listen to you. I'm sorry I'm not always here physically, though."

"It's your job, Johnny. I get it. I mean it's hard sometimes, but we make it work. Nothing about the way I feel is your fault. I just get sad sometimes yknow?"

"I know bonnie. Just wish you didn't have tae deal with it at all. Shouldn't have to have any thoughts in that pretty head if you don't want 'em."

You giggle. "I love you Johnny. That's always gonna be true, no matter what. Regardless of how sad I am, I'll always be yours and you'll always be mine."

"Always, my beauty. My love for you is infinite. Never ending."

“Promise?” you whisper. 

“Swear to ye baby. Let's get you feeling better, hmm? Turn on one of your shows and I'll go make some soup for you, hen,” he says, standing up.

“Does that mean we can watch gossip girl?” You ask shyly

“‘Course we can. Go ahead and put it on. I'll be back in a minute darling. Actually, do me just one favor, bon”

Cocking your head to the side you ask, “What's that Johnny?”

A smile cracks on his face, “Go grab us some blankets and stuffies from the bedroom, eh? Don't want your cold little toes touching me while I'm trying to watch the show”

“I do not have cold toes Johnny MacTavish! It's not my fault you're a human furnace,” you scoff at him. 

He just looks over at you and chuckles again. “I know bonnie, I love yer cold feet,” He lets out a full belly laugh as he catches one of the throw pillows you chucked at his head. “Just fucking with ye sweet boy. But please, can you bring some extra blankets? And pillows too? If you're up for it, I'll make you a pillow fort to watch our show in. 

Your eyes light up at the prospect of a pillow fort. Thinking about one of the last times you had made one, you realize that you hadn't since you were a child. With a nod, you head to your shared bedroom picking out your favorite pillows and blankets, along with your favorite stuffies. 

Johnny raises his eyebrows when he sees everything you're bringing to the living room, already seeing himself in the future having to lug everything back to the bedroom himself because you'll be too tired to do it yourself. 

“Don't look at me like that Johnny,” you pout. “I needed all of them so the vibes could be perfect! You can't have a pillow fort without a minimum of 4 blankets, that's like basic pillow fort knowledge.” 

“You're right, dove, how silly of me to forget that. Get yourself warmed up on the couch and I'll finish up the food. I'll be with you in just a minute, handsome.”

With a blush dusting your cheeks, you nod and let out a hum of contentment. You head toward the couch, getting yourself settled in and wrapping yourself and your favorite stuffie up in a blanket. Your smile to yourself thinking about how well Johnny takes care of you. You don’t even have to ask him to care for you. He can always just sense when something is wrong and he drops whatever he’s doing to be able to take care of you. It’s one of the things you love most about him. You’re so lost in thought, you jump a little when he plops down next to you on the couch.

“You okay there, tiger?” He asks while running his hands through your hair.

“Was just thinking about you. ‘Bout how you take care of me.”

“I’ll always take care of you, bonnie. That’s my job. You know that. It’s the greatest privilege I’ve been given aside from the pleasure of being your boyfriend.”

“You’re too sweet to me Johnny. I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”

He cups your cheek in his hand, “You’ll never have to figure that out, dove. Why don’t you tell me about what made you so upset?

“I just got stressed at work one day. Then I came home and decided to rest a bit. I ended up falling asleep and slept through the night, but then I just couldn’t get back into my routine. I couldn’t eat, could barely take care of myself, really. I would just wake up, go to work, come back home and go to bed. Today was just an absolute shit show at work and it just sent me over the edge. I obviously felt terrible, but I mean, I guess it was a little bit better than just feeling nothing at all.” You sigh as you sit back against the couch, feeling like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders. 

Johnny sighs as he just wraps his arms around you and holds you against his chest. “I know it’s hard to understand this, but yer never a burden tae me, sweet boy. Like I said it’s my job to take care of you. Even when I’m not here, I want you to know that I’m always here for you. Whether you need to scream, cry, be distracted, or even just sit in silence, I will always be here when you need it. And when I’m away I’ll do everything I can tae make sure I’m checking up on my lovely boy because he deserves the best and that’s exactly what I’m gonnae do.”

“Thank you Johnny. I just feel like my issues are nowhere near as important as the things you deal with at work. I feel bad taking up your time on something so silly when there’s much bigger issues you have to solve.”

“Bonnie you dinnae fash yerself about my job. You’ve got your own tae worry about. I can manage my job and taking care of you just fine. You’re never a burden on me, sweet boy.”

“Thank you Johnny. Thank you for taking care of me and getting me out of my own head,” you say manhandling him into the perfect position so that you could wrap your arms around his waist and lie your head on his chest. The thrum of his heartbeat keeping you grounded. 

“What else are boyfriends for, eh? Tonight’s gonnae be all about you, lovely. Let’s eat and watch some of that silly show you’re obsessed with and then we’ll get you a nice warm bath and tuck you into bed, yeah?”

“That sounds great, Johnny. I love you so, so much,” you say as he pulls you into his side and wraps another blanket around the two of you. You feel him kiss the crown of your head while he runs his hands up and down your back comfortingly. The day was bad, but the night would be so much better. Everything is better when Johnny’s home.

[theiloveyousong]

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I

Got out of bed at all

The morning rain clouds up my window

And I can't see at all

And even if I could it'll all be gray

But your picture on my wall

It reminds me, that it's not so bad

It's not so bad

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I

Got out of bed at all

The morning rain clouds up my window (window)

And I can't see at all

And even if I could it'll all be gray

But your picture on my wall

It reminds me, that it's not so bad

It's not so bad

Dear Slim, I wrote you but you still ain't callin'

I left my cell, my pager, and my home phone at the bottom

I sent two letters back in autumn, you must not've got 'em

There probably was a problem at the post office or somethin'

Sometimes I scribble addresses too sloppy when I jot 'em

But anyways, fuck it, what's been up, man? How's your daughter?

My girlfriend's pregnant too, I'm 'bout to be a father

If I have a daughter, guess what I'ma call her?

I'ma name her Bonnie

I read about your uncle Ronnie too, I'm sorry

I had a friend kill himself over some bitch who didn't want him

I know you probably hear this every day, but I'm your biggest fan

I even got the underground shit that you did with Skam

I got a room full of your posters and your pictures, man

I like the shit you did with Rawkus too, that shit was phat

Anyways, I hope you get this, man, hit me back

Just to chat, truly yours, your biggest fan

This is Stan

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I

Got out of bed at all

The morning rain clouds up my window (window)

And I can't see at all

And even if I could it'll all be gray

But your picture on my wall

It reminds me, that it's not so bad

It's not so bad

Dear Slim, you still ain't called or wrote, I hope you have a chance

I ain't mad, I just think it's fucked up you don't answer fans

If you didn't wanna talk to me outside your concert

You didn't have to, but you could've signed an autograph for Matthew

That's my little brother, man, he's only six years old

We waited in the blistering cold for you

For four hours and you just said, "No"

That's pretty shitty, man, you're like his fuckin' idol

He wants to be just like you, man, he likes you more than I do

I ain't that mad though, I just don't like bein' lied to

Remember when we met in Denver, you said if I'd write you you would write back

See, I'm just like you in a way

I never knew my father neither

He used to always cheat on my mom and beat her

I can relate to what you're saying in your songs

So when I have a shitty day, I drift away and put 'em on

'Cause I don't really got shit else, so that shit helps when I'm depressed

I even got a tattoo of your name across the chest

Sometimes I even cut myself to see how much it bleeds

It's like adrenaline, the pain is such a sudden rush for me

See, everything you say is real, and I respect you 'cause you tell it

My girlfriend's jealous 'cause I talk about you 24/7

But she don't know you like I know you Slim, no one does

She don't know what it was like for people like us growin' up, you gotta call me, man

I'll be the biggest fan you'll ever lose

Sincerely yours, Stan

P.S. we should be together too

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I

Got out of bed at all

The morning rain clouds up my window (window)

And I can't see at all

And even if I could it'll all be gray

But your picture on my wall

It reminds me, that it's not so bad

It's not so bad

Dear Mr. I'm Too Good To Call Or Write My Fans

This will be the last package I ever send your ass

It's been six months and still no word, I don't deserve it?

I know you got my last two letters, I wrote the addresses on 'em perfect

So this is my cassette I'm sending you, I hope you hear it

I'm in the car right now, I'm doing ninety on the freeway

Hey Slim, I drank a fifth of vodka

You dare me to drive?

You know the song by Phil Collins, "In the Air of the Night"

About that guy who could have saved that other guy from drowning

But didn't, then Phil saw it all, then at a a show he found him?

That's kinda how this is, you coulda rescued me from drowning

Now it's too late, I'm on a thousand downers now, I'm drowsy

And all I wanted was a lousy letter or a call

I hope you know I ripped all of your pictures off the wall

I love you Slim, we coulda been together, think about it

You ruined it now, I hope you can't sleep and you dream about it

And when you dream I hope you can't sleep and you scream about it

I hope your conscience eats at you and you can't breathe without me

See Slim, shut up bitch, I'm tryna talk

Hey Slim, that's my girlfriend screamin' in the trunk

But I didn't slit her throat, I just tied her up, see I ain't like you

'Cause if she suffocates, she'll suffer more, and then she'll die too

Well, gotta go, I'm almost at the bridge now

Oh shit, I forgot, how am I supposed to send this shit out?

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I

Got out of bed at all

The morning rain clouds up my window (window)

And I can't see at all

And even if I could it'll all be gray

But your picture on my wall

It reminds me, that it's not so bad

It's not so bad

Dear Stan, I meant to write you sooner but I just been busy

You said your girlfriend's pregnant now, how far along is she?

Look, I'm really flattered you would call your daughter that

And here's an autograph for your brother

I wrote it on a Starter cap

I'm sorry I didn't see you at the show, I must've missed you

Don't think I did that shit intentionally just to diss you

But what's this shit you said about you like to cut your wrists too?

I say that shit just clownin', dawg, come on, how fucked up is you?

You got some issues, Stan, I think you need some counseling

To help your ass from bouncing off the walls when you get down some

And what's this shit about us meant to be together?

That type of shit'll make me not want us to meet each other

I really think you and your girlfriend need each other

Or maybe you just need to treat her better

I hope you get to read this letter, I just hope it reaches you in time

Before you hurt yourself, I think that you'll be doin' just fine

If you relax a little, I'm glad I inspire you but Stan

Why are you so mad? Try to understand, that I do want you as a fan

I just don't want you to do some crazy shit

I seen this one shit on the news a couple weeks ago that made me sick

Some dude was drunk and drove his car over a bridge

And had his girlfriend in the trunk, and she was pregnant with his kid

And in the car they found a tape, but they didn't say who it was to

Come to think about, his name was, it was you

Damn!

omg so me

[shai-manahan]

OK OK OK CALM DOWN CALM DOWN THIS IS NOT AM EMERGENCY BUT I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW JUST HOW MUCH I LOVE YOUR WRITING AND IF LIKE- ????? THE WAY YOU DESCRIBE THINGS IS SO BEAUTIFUL AND OMG THAT NIGHTMARE SCENE IS GIVING ME NIGHTMARES THE MORE I THINK ABOUT IT SO I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU THAT I ABSOLUTELY LOVE YOUR WORK AND HOW GLAD IM THAT YOU DECIDED TO BRING IT TO LIFE- SO KEEP IT UP AND PLEASE TAKE CARE YOUR HEALTH AS WELL 👍👍👍👍👍👍

also i have a few theories about our MC if you don't mind-

1. so... as i played through the nightmare scene for the 9th time in a row to fully relish the horror and trauma, i realized that our dear (but unfortunate) MC must have gone through something MUCH MUCH worse than merely watching their father get oofed off by their mother 🤔🤔🤔 because i once read somewhere that if someone experiences like a really bad traumatic experience their brain will instinctively suppress their memories and lock them away to protect the person from getting anymore affected and also to give them a sense of normality? dunno about that our brains can be really mysterious sometimes, which brings me to my second theory

2. OK OK OK i know this may sound crazy and also scientifically inaccurate, but i think MC has some sort of Dissociative disorder? i mean- how do you explain their sudden black out from their home to their journey all the way to Bale's territory and the bar? or maybe im just overthinking it and perhaps its somehow related to the hallucinations and the syringes that have been emphasized over multiples times in the demo

3. why do i feel our MC is being drugged with something 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔 or maybe something happened before or after the incident with their father otherwise why would Alex act so sus, Vincent too, YALL TOO SUS

and so ends my theory spree as i have exhausted my remaining two brain cells to make SOME kind of sense and connection through this whole theory thing

ALSO ALSO ALONZO WHY DO I HAVE A FEELING I WRONGED YOU SOMEHOW AND SOMEWHERE AND IF I DID IM SO SORRY -

which puts me to my next question, i wonder why our MC just offed 11 of their coworkers 🤔 corruption maybe? whatever the case Is, it still doesn't excuse bernard (or whatever his name is, he's a jerk) for acting like the lil piece of poop he is, to both us and finn cause oh boy imma bout to throw hands (you better sleep with one eye open you lil shit)

ALSO ALSO ALSO MORE WESLEY LORE YAY omg now i feel kinda conflicted rn like i still wanna sock that lil bastard for exposing us but i feel kinda pity for him too, also that wholesome moment between them was so cute if not for the current angsty situation, but i guess i'll them off with one good bish slap on the face for the whole expose before listening to their side of the story

and now finally, after going through your whole blog i realized that we have a hidden mental health stat- lol my mc is gonna be one helluva self sabotaging half depressed boi bu the end of this IF 😂

SORRY FOR THE EXTREMELY LONG RANT / ASK I WAS JUST TOO EXCITED AFTER PLAYING THE WHOLE DEMO AGAIN OVER 9 TIMES BEFORE FINALLY FEELING SATISFIED- IM SORRY 😭😅

Oh that is long, but don't be sorry! I love seeing long messages like this 😌And I’m so glad you love the story to this extent 😭

First of all, so there'll be no misunderstandings, I want to make it clear that what the MC is going through isn't exactly a dissociative disorder, although there is some degree of disassociation happening. I can't explain further because it's a very huge spoiler, but not everything they've been experiencing can be solely attributed to the level of trauma and other related occurrences that DID patients often went through before being diagnosed. It's a little... different.

This does not mean, however, that the MC has no repressed memories 😔 If you look carefully, there are actually some more hints spread throughout the demo, although some of them are hidden behind certain routes. A lot are in Chapter 2, though. Anyway, the revelations relating to it won’t be the focus of Book 1, but there will be a lot more clues in the future.

And yeah, I'm afraid Alex and Vincent will continue to be sus all the way.

YALL TOO SUS

ah but I wouldn’t have done my job right if they’re not sus :)))

why do i feel our MC is being drugged with something 🤔

🤔🤔🤔

ALSO ALSO ALONZO WHY DO I HAVE A FEELING I WRONGED YOU SOMEHOW AND SOMEWHERE AND IF I DID IM SO SORRY

Well, I suppose that depends on the perspective but Alonzo does believe the MC has wronged them haha which is tbh actually valid.

which puts me to my next question, i wonder why our MC just offed 11 of their coworkers 🤔 corruption maybe?

To be fair, I don't think arresting them counts as offing lmao but yeah there's a heavy corruption occurring within the police force and everybody knows it; it's just that most of the people in Gaile cannot do anything to stop it. And don't worry about Bertrand, he already sleeps with one eye open lmaoooo although he does have kind of a huge role (spoiler: he will always be an asshole).

Wesley's reuinion scene, though... if you all think the flashback scene is already conflicting you, well, the reunion might uh.... actually nevermind, I'm not gonna spoil it.

and now finally, after going through your whole blog i realized that we have a hidden mental health stat- lol my mc is gonna be one helluva self sabotaging half depressed boi bu the end of this IF 😂

There are four types of mental health stats in the demo right now, but I'm arranging all the variables in a spreadsheet to see if I've missed anything. I kinda have a lot of them lmfao.

[mizunetzu]

Tags~: @scifiji @shiny-bun @luv-hqs @gummiebearsmp4 @aquariusmurderer @inarizza @roadkillarr (finally I made the part two AHAHAH)

——————

Kita x reader - warm, warm professions (God I love you so much) (cold cold obvs. Part 2)

Warnings - ahaha angst, crying Kita

Pronouns - male, he/him

you can find part one here!

——————

“Shicchan, your hands are so cold...”

(Y/n) cupped both of Kita’s numb hands in his own. Kita tensed, looking down at both of their hands. He felt his own hands being attacked with (Y/n’s) warm ones, his cold, cold hands already thawing just at the one touch.

“Isn’t it hard to toss the ball when you’re hands are numb? That’s bad!” (Y/n) brought Kita’s hands to cup his face, his hands stinging from how warm his cheeks were.

(Y/n) nuzzled his face into Kita’s left hand. He practically murmured into his palm. “How’d they get so cold in the first place?”

Kita wouldn’t show it, in fact he didn’t think he could if he tried, but the warmth that spread across his chest made him suddenly want to run laps. He settled for slightly gripping and rubbing (Y/n’s) cheeks with his thumbs. “I don’t know.” Was all Kita could muster. He was too lost in (Y/n’s) captivating eyes.

God, he loved him so much.

——

Numb.

Numb was the way Kita would describe the feeling in his mouth.

He sat quietly on a foldable chair in the gym, twirling his fingers together instead of watching the practice match going on. He didn’t think he could pay attention if he tried, when he used to be able to have his eyes glued onto the ball even though he was on the sidelines. His fingers felt kind of numb.

He wrapped his fingers up in his shirt to no avail. All it did was make his stomach cold from his fingers bitter touch. It wasn’t even that cold outside. It was a rather nice day in terms of weather. But it didn’t feel like that at all.

“-ita. Kita!”

Kita raised his head. Atsumu loomed above him with his arms crossed.

“...Did you need something, Atsumu-san?”

“Yeah. Why’re ya actin’ all depressed? You’re makin’ everyone feel depressed too, y’know.”

“Atsumu! Shut the fuck up!” Kita heard someone whisper-yell, as well as a grunt of pain from Atsumu. Kita blinked.

“Nothing...much.”

“Nothin’ much?! How bout’ when you started cryin’ yer ass off during practice a week ago? Didn’t seem like nothin’ to me!”

Osamu slapped Atsumu upside the head. Aran sighed.

“I gotta agree with Atsumu-san on this. You don’t look too good these days. Especially since (L/n)-san stopped showin’ up to practice.”

There was hums and nods of agreement. Kita pursed his lips.

“Did...did something happen between y’all?”

Kita couldn’t look Aran in the eyes. He, also, used to have no problem speaking his mind (in fact sometimes it came out automatically) but right now his mouth was glued shut. Now, and probably forever. He didn’t wanna say it. He didn’t wanna think it. He didn’t wanna hear it-

“Kita and (L/n) broke up a week ago.”

Suna pitched in monotonously. Kita flinched subtly. The gym was silent. All eyes were on Kita. His throbbing, cold hands didn’t help, as he tried warming them up discreetly by stuffing them under the backside of his shirt.

“Oh...uh, sorry.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t mind.”

The awkward, sympathetic pats on the back didn’t really help either, but he replied with a curt “s’fine.” nonetheless.

——

(Y/n) kissed the back of Kita’s hand.

“Looks like your hands warmin’ up...” He drew it away from his lips and examined it with half lidded eyes and a reserved smile. Kita watched as tiny specs of sun fluttered around (Y/n’s) warm face, painting his face and hair with light that made him look like an angel sent from heaven.

Kita mindlessly brought his free hand up to the side of (Y/n’s) face, touching and stroking his cheek with the grace of a feather. (Y/n) looked up from his hand, up at Kita’s face.

(Y/n) leaned into his touch. He used his other hand to cup the hand resting peacefully on his cheek, nuzzling his nose further into Kita’s palm.

“Something wrong?”

“No...”

Kita felt a throbbing, hazy feeling in his chest. Like something inside his ribcage was trying to break free, and explode into a million pieces.

“Then, do you just like holding my face?” (Y/n) smiled that smile that made him go weak in the knees. “That’s good...I like it when you hold my face too.”

God, he loved him so much.

——

Kita slumped down, doubled over himself panting and heaving on the sidewalk where Inarizaki was collectively jogging. Ginjima stopped in front of Kita, jogging in place.

“You’re usually in the very front of the pack when we all run.” He said in between huffs.

Kita said nothing, only panting and crouching down to catch his breath.

“You run in the very back of the group now.”

He was met with no response again. Ginjima stopped running in place, and stared down pitifully at Kita’s hunched over body.

“S’everything alright back there?!” Aran called out from a distance. Ginjima yelled out a “Everything’s fine!” While waving his arms around in the air until Aran waved back. Ginjima looked back at Kitas scrunched up form.

“Y’know-maybe you should just...go home for the day. Take a break.”

Kita looked up at him with dry, tired eyes. His throat refused to put out any other sounds than exhales the occasional cough.

“Go freshen up and go home. You won’t die missing a day of practice.” Ginjima crouched down to Kita’s face, his voice noticeably softer and careful. “It’s not like you to push yourself when you know you’re not doing well.”

“I’m not sick, it’s not the same thing-“

“But you’re heartbroken.”

Heartbroken. Kita supposed that was the word to describe his situation right now. Heartbroken, yet it didn’t feel like the correct word to describe how he felt. He felt like he was dying. Drowning. Freezing.

“I’ll walk you back, ‘kay?” Ginjima pushed off his feet, extending a hand over to Kita. He pulled him up, and Kita swayed in the air like a bobblehead. “Go change and go home. We’ll see you tomorrow, don’t worry. I’ll tell the others you went home.”

Ginjima and Kita walked in the opposite direction they were running. Kita downcast his face.

“M’kay.”

——

“Do you love me?”

Kita remembered the way (Y/n’s) face didn’t radiate the warm glow it usually did when he was around him. His eyes looked strained, infuriated even, and he looked like he wanted to say something more. But it was a simple question, ‘do you love me?’. And of course he did. So that’s what he said.

“...Of course I-“

“”of course I do.” That’s what you always say..! Say something else, dammit! Say you love me!”

(Y/n) abruptly rose from his seat, stepping over the bench and grabbing Kita by the collar. He pulled him closer to his face, shaking him by the shirt with knuckles that almost turned white.

“M-Make me believe that you love me!”

He really wish he didn’t remember how much tears flowed freely from (Y/n’s) eyes, and how he was biting and gnawing at his lip to keep from screaming, or the way he shook with despair in general. It played over and over again, the same sorrow-riddled expression that made Kita’s stomach drop.

He really wish he didn’t remember. But he wished he’d said something, anything, even more.

(Y/n’s) face went from angry and sad, to numb and cold in a matter of seconds. He’d much rather prefer the heated look of (Y/n’s) angry face, than the stone cold lifeless look (Y/n) held when he let go of his shirt. Because even with his angry sobs and screams, there was still a hint of warmth. Even if it was angry passion, it was still better than the cold, dead stare he held that Kita couldn’t meet.

“...I think we should break up.”

Kita’s world went silent. He was struck with an immediate shock of dread, panic, stress, and everything in between. He had so many questions. Why? Didn’t he know that he loved him? He loved him so, so much, so why was he saying that he didn’t? Was his love not enough? Didn’t he know how much he needed him?

He had so many questions, yet his face made of cold stone could only say one thing.

“Why?”

(Y/n’s) iron clad grip on Kita’s shirt loosened, he stepped back, face feeling raw after crying. “I don’t want to be with someone who can’t tell me they love me. Once you can tell me you love me, and mean it, I’m all ears.”

Kita watched as (Y/n) turned his back on him for the first and last time. More thoughts raced in his head. He could change. He could do better. He’d love him a thousand times more, fix every little imperfection, hell, do it a thousand times over again if it meant that (Y/n) would turn around with that warm smile again. He wanted see that smile again. That smile that made him feel so warm. Please. One more time. Kita’s arm gravitated outwards, reaching for (Y/n’s) cold back as he turned away. One more time, please smile for me.

But he didn’t. He was met with nothing more than a cold shoulder.

He was left with the sudden drop in temperature, the world once filled with so much warmth being winded away into a cold wasteland. Kita looked down, his eyes numb and wide.

“Please come back...” he remembered saying, though he didn’t think it ever came out audibly.

“I love you, (Y/n)...”

‘God...dear God...’

He loved him so much.

‘Why did you take him away from me?’

‘The gods were always listening, is what my Baa-san would always say. Were the gods not listening to my undying love for you, (L/n)(Y/n)? Was my feelings for you not enough to make you smile for me one last time? God, I loved you so much.’

‘So did I not love you enough?’

——

Kita found himself sitting on the same bench (Y/n) professed his love for him to. Granted, it was the same bench they had broken up on, but Kita didn’t want to think about that.

He twirled a wilted cherry blossom petal in between his fingers. The rigid, dark pink petal cracked and crumbled, turning into dust in Kita’s hand.

As much as he hated this place, this stupid stone bench with a cherry blossom tree, it was a beautiful sight that not much students knew about. It was quiet, but it caused (Y/n’s) cold, cold eyes to bore into his mind all the more he stayed. It was a double edged sword.

He sometimes wondered what (Y/n) was doing with his free time outside of the club. What did he do? Did he take a nap after classes? His sleeping face looked very cute, though he only saw it once when he dozed off studying at his house. Did he spend time with his parents? He always found people respectable to their parents very attractive. Did he find a new club to stay with?

Kita clenched his fists. The thought of (Y/n) playing a different sport, doing something else after school, didn’t sit right with him. Was that what he was doing? Did he realize how cold and uncomfortable he made volleyball for him, and decided to leave? Would he never see him smiling up at him again after school?

Would he never see (L/n) (Y/n’s) warm, warm smile directed at him ever again?

He heard footsteps echo on the grass behind him. The footsteps halted awkwardly, and Kita turned around.

(Y/n) locked eyes with Kita. He should’ve been paying attention to where he was going, huh? Maybe if he was looking where he was walking, he could’ve noticed Kita Shinsuke sitting there, and could’ve found a different spot to sit at after school.

(Y/n) wasted no time spinning on his heel and leaving. He didn’t wanna face Kita after everything that went down.

Kita feet sprang him up and off the bench. He didn’t know what he was doing, but the next thing he knew was that his arms wrapped around (Y/n’s) body, holding him while he was facing away. Kita’s mind raced with thoughts and went absolutely blank at the same time.

(Y/n) pursed his lips. “What do you want?” He said. It came out harsher than he intended, but Kita paid no mind. He wordlessly buried his face into the crook of (Y/n’s) neck, nuzzling it and relishing in the warmth that was not intended for him.

“H-hey! What gives!” (Y/n) half-heartedly tried pushing Kita away. He knew if he gave in now, he’d come crawling back into Kita’s cold, loveless arms, craving that touch and pretending it was indeed, love. “Don’t...don’t touch me, Kita-“

“Shinsuke.”

The arm that was trying to push Kita away went limp. (Y/n’s) hardened exterior cracked as his resolve faltered. Kita buried himself deeper into (Y/n’s) shoulder, firmly wrapping his arms around (Y/n) tightly. He was practically murmuring into (Y/n’s) school uniform.

“Call...call me Shinsuke...it’s what you used to call me...when we first started dating...”

“Well,” (Y/n) downcast his face, his eyes hardened and cold while he balled up his fists. “We aren’t dating. So why does it-“

All of (Y/n’s) resolve, all the time he spent putting up the barrier to his emotions, shattered once he heard the first sniffle from Kita.

After that, Kita fell apart like dominoes.

His grip on (Y/n’s) waist tightened as he shook violently, sobs crescendoed and ripping through his body explosively, unlike the silent tears that he shed that day he left. His whimpers and choked cries were muffled from the cloth of (Y/n’s) uniform. He loved him so much. Why couldn’t he see how much he loved him?

Kita cried and cried on (Y/n’s) shoulder. He couldn’t see the type of face (Y/n) was making, and that made him all the more nervous. He wanted to feel the warmth of (Y/n) at least one last time. After that, he swore he would move on. He swore. He swore, so one last time. Please.

(Y/n) sighed. “Kita...”

Kita didn’t respond. He continued to cry pathetically onto (Y/n’s) shoulder.

“Kita-kun.”

This time, Kita shakily shook his head. (Y/n) sighed, this time more stably, and untangled Kita’s vice grip from his body.

“Shinsuke-kun...”

Kita, confused and sad, finally caught a glimpse of (Y/n’s) face when he turned around. He had a look of empathy, his warm hands brought up to his cheeks, melting his ice cold skin awake. Kita rumbled with another choked sob, closing his eyes and sobbing into (Y/n’s) hands. It was so warm. After the cold winter storm he’d suffered through, the first ray of sunshine that shone through always felt the best.

“Shinsuke-kun,” (Y/n) repeated. Kita hiccuped, trying to stop his tears from falling.

“P-lease come back...” Kita’s voice was hoarse, cracking with every word. “I-I don’t like this...”

(Y/n) said nothing. Kita broke free from (Y/n’s) soft grip on his face, and brought him into a hug. He was never much for physical affection, but right now (Y/n) felt so, so warm.

“You’ve...you’ve treated me so kind...I-I’m sorry...i’ve been so cold...” Kita rambled on, sobbing into (Y/n’s) hair quietly. (Y/n) still didn’t say anything.

“I-I...didn’t mean to...I swear...! I’ll be a better boyfriend...please...I’ll love you correctly...”

(Y/n’s) silence was defecating. Kita felt his ears go numb with the silent treatment he was being put through. Was this his punishment?

“I...say something...! Please...” Kita whispered, tears gathering at his eyes once more. “Please...”

Then, (Y/n) finally wrapped his warm arms around Kita. He mumbled pathetically, “Y’know I don’t like it when people cry, Shinsuke...”

It was Kita’s turn to go quiet. (Y/n) pulled away, much to Kita’s protest. However, the warm smile (Y/n) gave him made his heart throb and his throat close up.

(Y/n) caressed Kita’s face with his thumb. “Stop crying...”

“I love you...” Kita whispered, his voice cracking at the seams. (Y/n’s) face adorned a look of astonishment, a slight blush lighting up his already perfect sunny face.

(Y/n) smiled again. That same smile Kita had been craving for forever.

“T-Tell me that again...please.”

Kita collapsed into (Y/n’s) warm arms. Choked sobs of “I-I love you-!” And “I-I love you so much...” echoed through the air. The emotionless barrier, holding all of Kita’s emotions captive to the world, cracked and shattered, his crying face bearing the weight of a man who loved (L/n) (Y/n) with his entire being.

(Y/n) stroked the back of Kita’s head softly.

“Of course you do...”

God, he loved him so much.

——————

[george-fabian-weasley]

diving deep down — g.w.

Summary: Sometimes you just needed to know that you’re not alone in this world.

Words: 1,726 words

Warnings ⚠ : TW implied depression, TW mental health, TW drowning, mentions of lack of breath, TW implied suicide, Read At Your Own Risk, platonic!george, neutral!reader, mentions of crying, Angst, Happy ending (sort of), comfort!au

Disclaimer: I am sad for a few days now so here I am, writing yet another comfort fic. Please note that if you’re struggling and you need someone to talk to, my messages is always open for you. I love you all so much, you’re not alone. Comments andReblogs are appreciated, enjoy!

masterlist! | general taglist! | buy me a coffee!

It was a quiet night at the Astronomy Tower, most of the students had gone to sleep and there were very few prefects patrolling the school hallways.

You felt at peace.

There was just something about being alone on the Astronomy Tower that feels so... intimate. At this point, it had become a personal spot for you to just come and lay down on the floor, and stare up to the sky. Sometimes the sky would give you a show, a comet shower on rare days or a bright full moon on the other. And sometimes even the sky needs rest, yet still gifting you a night of clouds and rain, lullabying your thoughts to slumber.

Nothing to do up here actually, but that’s what you desired. To do nothing, to wait for nothing, to talk nothing, to be expected of nothing, to expect nothing. In the life of yours that is full of ups and downs like merciless tidal waves of the bottomless ocean crashing upon your small wooden ship, doing absolutely nothing is the spine that holds your sanity in a piece.

In peace.

None of your friends knew about this spot of yours when you're stressed or disheveled, or simply need some time alone. But you're quite fond of it; the thought of them not knowing. Don't get me wrong, you absolutely adore your friends, but alone time is needed very badly for a while. To just be yourself and calm down without the bickering noises or the loud laughter or the constant jabs or the playful sneers.

What you didn't know, though, was one of your friends had kept his eye on you. Every week after dinner, you would always disappear right after dinner to Godric knows where. And George always wondered where you’ve had been.

"So this is where you disappear to every other night," George's voice startled you as you flinched slightly. "Bloody hell, Weasley..." You groaned as you massaged your chest, trying to ease your fast-beating heart from the shock.

"Sorry 'bout that," George muttered and cleared his throat, walking over to sit next to you. You watched him sit down and looked up to the tower's internal dome, "Wow, someone hasn't dusted that ceiling for a while."

You rolled your eyes at his quiet remark, you assumed he's talking to himself in the hushed tone he did. "So, what do you do here?" He asked you, turning to you curiously.

“Nothing.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Nothing like... literally or figuratively?” You sighed quietly, “Literally nothing. I just like to lay down here, stare up to the ceiling or the skies, and take a break from everything,” You briefly explained.

You laid down on your back, hands on the back of your head as you stare up to the dark sky. You saw from the corner of your eyes that he followed you suit, laying down beside you with his arms as his headrest. You glanced at him, he was looking up to the sky with a blank expression, causing you to furrow your eyebrows.

You had expected him to say ‘How boring’ or any other sassy remark, but George just stayed silent, being by your side without any other word. And when he did speak, all he said was:

“Do you mind if I join you any other time?”

You pursed your lips at his ask of permission. As much as you would like to have company, the Astronomy Tower has become your safe space for a long while. Suddenly sharing it with someone else, and whisk away the peacefulness and serenity, you only fear for the tidal waves to grow bigger by time; before swallowing you whole like a beast it is created to become.

“I... I don’t know, George. I like it when it’s just me up here,” You answered honestly, sighing heavily, “Let’s just say that this spot is my safe space, and by sharing my safe space with someone, I might lose my mind.”

“I-I don’t expect you to understand so I don’t care if—” “I do understand, so don’t sweat about it.” “... What?” George turned to you with a smile, “I understand, Y/N. You don’t need to explain it to me, I get it,” He said gently, before turning his head back to the sky.

“Sometimes... A safe space is all you need to escape for a while; to make sure that you won’t run away for good.”

You looked at him with narrowed eyes, “Do-do you...” You trailed off, not wanting to say what it was in your mind. It’s impossible, George has everything he wanted in his life, fame, a loving family, loyal friends, great pranks. His life is incredible.

But with only a somber look he sent your way, you figured that you might be wrong.

“George...” You trailed off, not knowing what else to say. He uncomfortably chuckled, “You know, sometimes I think to myself, why do I feel like this? When I have an amazing family, a supportive twin brother, great friends, and incredible pranks to accomplish. But what I learned over the past few years...” He paused, licking his lips slowly.

“... is that the monster chooses randomly. It chooses without criteria, without any care of the good things in your life. If it chooses you, then so be it.”

You wish to say you don’t know what he’s talking about. But you do, oh you do very well. 

“... You could be having a wonderful time with your friends, and when it touches you, everything vanishes and all you could think of are the bad thoughts,” You spoke quietly. George turned to you, huffing a sad smile at the mere thought of you understanding him. 

So you’re like him.

“Yeah, what an arsehole,” George tried to joke to lighten up the mood, but the smile on his lips didn’t really last long. “... I don’t even know why it chooses me. Out of all people in the world, it chooses me to be the host of these-these crumbling thoughts...” You continued, eyebrows furrowing at the frustration brewing inside of you.

“And they stayed,” George muttered. You sighed, “For a while, too.” George huffed a cynical smile, “It’s giving us such a cruel game to play. Winning or losing, but at what cost?” You blinked slowly, feeling your heart ache heavily at the thought of your friend suffering as much as you do, or even more than you thought.

“... Everything.”

“Truth to be told...” You trailed off, gulping at the nerves you had to say this sudden confession to George. “I think I’m losing the game,” You whispered, wishing to God that he wouldn’t hear you so you won’t have to repeat yourself.

“Why would you feel that?” His soft voice didn’t do you any justice.

“At first, I found the feelings as silly, so I brushed them away,” You bit your lips, still debating whether you should tell him or not. Whether you should burden him with your feelings or not. “I kept getting these thoughts one by one and I thought I can endure it but it just,” You find your eyebrows furrowing at the lump of your throat growing bigger and bigger, “it keeps coming and coming and coming until I had to accept them all at some point at the same time and I just... I felt so out of breath,” The words coming out of your mouth were getting faster as time passed by as if if you don’t let them out in time, they’ll never come back out again.

The dams of your tears had broken down. Your chest was heaving up and down without rhythm and you felt your lungs constricting all the air you had.

“They’re- they’re choking me and I can’t breathe I- I feel like I’m drowning, I’m diving deep down in the ocean and-and I can’t swim and slowly and slowly and slowly I- I can’t see the light anymore and I- I’m losing the game, George! I’m losing the game-” Your voice had cracked and you were sobbing on the floor, the desperation in your voice was so painful for George to hear, he felt like your words had created a mirror; broken down into little pieces of sharp-edged glass. And each one of them had struck him straight into his heart.

But his hand gripped yours securely.

You looked down to the intertwined hands, and you looked up at him already staring at you, “You’re not losing the game, Y/N,” His voice; firm yet trembling, the glint in his eyes tells you that he’s saying this not only for you, but for himself as well, “You’re fighting it.”

“You’re fighting it, and you are so strong for doing so. The cruelest game to be created, and you’re fighting through it. You’re fighting, like the fighter you are,” George’s sudden words of encouragement caused you to feel your chest constricting. Your eyes suddenly feel heavy with teardrops, you felt heard. You felt needed. You felt supported.

So with tears still rolling down your cheeks, you squeezed George’s hands, “Like the fighters we are,” You voiced out, a small, quivering smile on your lips. George felt warmth in his insides, grateful to have an understanding and supportive friend like you. He nodded and cracked a wide grin; amidst all the tears rolling down and wetting the floor, “Like the fighters we are.”

You stared at his bloated eyes and red nose, smiling to yourself gratefully, “I don’t know how you do it,” You said honestly. “What? Staying alive? I’m scraping on the floor,” George deadpanned, causing you to laugh at the sudden brutal honesty.

George scoffed a curious smile at you, wiping away his tears, “Is my agony funny to you?” You couldn’t stop laughing so you only nodded, causing you to be shoved at the shoulder with a dramatic “Hey!”

It only caused you to laugh more, unfortunately for George.

He watched as you laughed at him, and without him knowing it, he was laughing with you. As the both of you calmed down, you smiled gratefully at him, your hand squeezing his again, “At least we’re not diving deep down in the ocean.”

“Well, this time,” George turned back to the sky, the first genuine smile on his lips of the night, “We’ll fight our best not to.”

TAGLIST:

@multifandom-but @sirenswhispers @lilac-skies-xd @obsessedunicorn24 @foggyturtleknightangel@evewithluv@softlyqoos @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @lilypad-55449 @fiantomartell @hopemalfoyweasley @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​ @bucketandpotato@klausdatprettyboi @adoregin @littlechillies @phuvioqhile @sweetnspicysimp @wand3ringr0s3 @harrypotter289 @emptyporsche @tallyovie @the-unmanaged-mischief @missmulti @gcdricreads ​ @moonvicake @amourtentiaa @lunalovecroft @loveboyhalo @lupinsclassroom @breadqueen95 @iwritesiriusly @weasleyclaw @sevsbitxh @freds-slut @acosmis-t @colorfulprofessornickelangel @vote4weasleys @anchoeritic@alluringshawn @cute-sidney@anna-banana-13 @lostaurorax @emrysts @rosietoesy @lilgeorgie78 @prismarts @an2402lths

[cxqrow]

OKAY RANDOM IK NO ONE CARES OR EVEN REMEMBERED BOUT ME POSTING BOUT BIG BRO TORCHWICK AU BUT OH WELL!!!

Big Bro Torchwick AU

technically a Roman Lives AU

Roman Torchwick, a upcoming superstar in the news as a new criminal. Actually being Roman Xiao-long, a more rebellious son of Taiyang’s. A school dropout,

Many of Ruby’s things like her hair is influenced by Roman, and his stupid teenage self accidentally cutting her hair bad.

Neapolitan had followed an oath to never harm any of the Xiao-long sibling due to Torchwick’s orders. So instead of Neo being forced to fight Yang, it was rather Blake.

His other name beside Roman, (the one Taiyang wanted to call him still does) is Zhu

Close and overprotective but much of a bastard with his siblings. Especially more protective of Ruby, but with Yang it’s a more similar relationship with Raven and Qrow. (without the hatred and just more childish sibling banter)

Main reasons for his huge protectiveness with Ruby stems from his relationship with Summer. With an absent mom, and his father obviously caring more for his sister it felt like someone cared for him truly. Though sadly after she died, he never took it well but wanted to hopefully be a good enough brother for Ruby to still care for.

Roman naturally has died black hair, his ginger hair being died to “hide his real idenity” which is obviously seen through when he visits his dad.

Ruby never recognizes Torchwick as her brother, especially due to his sudden fashion sense change.

When Beacon falls, Torchwick still meets up with Ruby but instead to just destroy Beacon. It’s more about his brother-ness taking the best of her, and confesses it was him “Ruby’s big disappointment of a big brother” and before Ruby could get her hug, he instead gets monched on….

Which he lives! somehow by Qrow being able to save him, but since was saved they both agreed to never mention it again.

He does eventually gets his reunion with Yang and Taiyang (soon ruby but—) he was immediately pronounced groundeed. (also clowned Yang for being stuck in bed, only to get yelled by Yang about him being grounded)

One of many reasons Taiyang absolutely gives up caring for Roman being him easily sneaking out, which somehow he still never is able to catch him.

Sneaks out to follow Ruby and RNJR on their journey, without Ruby knowing he was alive and stuff. Though was caught by Qrow, who was also watching over the group. So he obligatory got watched over and gettinh babysit by Qrow instead of being stuck at home.

Ruby and Romans reunited moment is a bit more dramatic, but then again Roman is already a theatre kid.

Roman basically becomes a antihero, and instead of doing crime on good guys, its doing crime of bad guys.

Yang and Ruby aren’t really close, especially with Yang mostly spending her time with Taiyang more than with Roman and Ruby. Especially when Roman is more “olderly brother” with Ruby than Yang was w Ruby. So when Roman had left, it left Ruby more quiet and depressed. Yang obviously wanting to still act as her sister, and being more “Roman-like” but often time it never truely works.

I have like no other more bullet points to put in here, this is a lowkey old au from like earlier this month/september ,,, 😭😭 i made so many please BUT YEA SORRY FOR THE LATE YET RANDOM INFODUMP OF AUS I MIGHT JUS SOON MAKE BECAUSE IMPULSES

also the one doodle i made of this au

[entitynumber5]

omg Hannah!! if you feel so inclined, maybe "things you said when you were crying" for jonmartin? no pressure tho ily

aaaahhh thank you so much for this prompt, friend!!!!! i’m sorry it’s been a while!!! i really hope you like this!!!! ily <3

Content warnings: illness (they both have the flu), depressive episode (mentioned), Martin’s mother (mentioned), the Lonely, disassociation, swearing, compulsive behaviour, self-depreciation. 

things you said when you were crying

Perhaps it’s testament to how wonderfully mundane their lives have become, that Jon’s first thought when he wakes is: Martin’s doing the god damn laundry. 

It’s not an unreasonable assumption. Martin had spent the annual leave he’d taken to align with Jon’s reading week nursing Jon through a nasty bout of flu. During the three worst days, when Jon was barely conscious, he hadn’t seen Martin sleep or eat or leave their bedroom except to linger by the landline—a sign perhaps that Martin had caught what Jon had earlier than he’d let on, since they rarely used the relic—and debate calling the out of hours service. Jon had just about weathered the worst of it when Martin was properly struck down, requiring another week and a half and counting off work. Of course, that didn’t stop Martin’s restlessness even as the flu drained everything from him. He would lie on their bed, pale and panting, barely awake, bordering delirious—and still mumble to Jon that he’d do the laundry in a minute, don’t worry, I’ll get it done soon, I’m sorry it’s such a mess, I’m sorry. 

So Jon doesn’t mean to be angry, when he wakes up to an empty bed after an evening of Martin’s temperature finally staying below 38. It’s not even Martin he’s angry at, not truly.

Perhaps their lives aren’t mundane after all. Is it mundane not to be able to leave an overflowing laundry basket eleven days into the flu? Jon doesn’t know, or Know, but he has two theories: 1) Martin’s mother, the spectre to his half-formed anger. And 2) the state he recalls finding Martin’s flat in after leaving the Lonely, but before they’d set off for Scotland, and how neither of them had said it but Jon recognised well enough what a depressive episode looked like.

Jon reaches for his cane, folded and ready against the bedside table, and gently leverages himself up so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. The change in elevation makes him dizzy, and he lets the cane ground him, digging into the carpet between his feet, as he breathes. It’s been nearly a week since he’s had a fever, but the flu has caused a flare-up of his pain and fatigue. His department are letting him teach remotely through the rest of November. Martin’s boss had been sympathetic too, when Jon phoned in for him, although there’s not much a paramedic can do from afar and Martin is insistent he’ll be back by the end of the week. In four days. Jon rolls his eyes pre-emptively at the conversations he knows he will have with Martin about who had it “worse”, as if it matters. 

After the static has cleared from his vision—always an uncomfortable comparison, and he shoves down the panic that bubbles inside of him at the thought, because Martin needs him—Jon stands. He goes through the same process, leaning on his cane, breathing, waiting, until he feels steady enough to make his way into the kitchen. 

“What are you doing?” Jon asks from the kitchen doorway, unable to keep the disapproval from his voice, when he finds Martin crouched in front of the washing machine.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Martin shoots back. The sarcasm of his reply is lessened significantly by how out of breath he sounds, and the way he’s clinging to the countertop above the washing machine with one hand while the other is splayed against the tiled floor like a shaky tripod—a pose that hints at an attempt to stand, aborted halfway through.

Jon sighs, biting back an unkind retort: exactly the opposite of what you should be doing. He allows himself to think it without trying to push it away in sudden, desperate shame, like he’s been practicing with his therapist, until it no longer sits so bitterly on his tongue. 

“Come back to bed, Martin,” Jon murmurs, “Please.” 

Martin sighs too. It sounds stuffy, almost crackling with the way the flu still clings to his lungs and throat. “I—I’m not sure that I... can.”

Jon opens his mouth to speak, but Martin interrupts: “I know, I know, I shouldn’t be—and my fever’s probably up again and—and I—”

“Martin,” Jon cuts in, as gently as he can. 

“Fine. Fine. This can wait to go out on the—” Still breathless, still barrelling through his justifications, Martin uses the hand on the countertop to pull himself upwards.

It goes terribly. Jon isn’t sure what forces are at work—gravity, exhaustion, pure bad luck, all of the above—but Martin is barely up for a moment before his legs fold, and he’s down again. Jon can’t move fast enough to stop Martin corkscrewing in an odd, 180-degree motion so that he all but ducks beneath his own arm, twisting it in his socket in an attempt to continue clinging to the counter, and knocks his spine against the harsh, circular face of the washing machine with a resounding thud.

“Fuck. Ow,” Martin groans, his voice slurring slightly, “Tha’s embarrassing.”

Jon tries to follow Martin, to kneel beside him on the tiles, but Martin snaps: “No! No, Jon, p-please don’t. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Jon hovers, one hand fluttering uselessly near Martin’s hair while he clings to his cane with the other. Martin breathes, and breathes, and breathes—the sound heavy and laboured in a way that breaks Jon’s heart. It takes some time for him to steady himself, and then lean almost imperceptibly towards Jon. Jon lets his fingers brush through Martin’s hair, not caring, in the moment, that neither of them had showered for what feels like weeks. When the knuckle of his forefinger brushes across Martin’s temple, down his cheek, Jon feels the heat sitting on his skin again, the climbing fever.

“Oh, Martin,” Jon murmurs. 

“I hate this,” Martin says, his voice quiet and sharp and bitter.

“I know,” Jon soothes, brushing his knuckle once again over Martin’s flushed cheek. “I know.”

Martin closes his eyes and leans his head again Jon’s knee. It’s the sort of exhausted display of love and trust that Martin rarely allows himself, unless he’s feeling truly unwell. Jon places his hand on the crown of Martin’s head and leans on his cane and waits for Martin to be ready once again to talk or rest. 

Until very quietly, Martin begins to cry. 

“Oh,” Jon murmurs, almost to himself. 

Martin’s breath trembles, in what Jon knows is an attempt to hold back the tears, to pretend it’s nothing. He hides his face from Jon when he cries, even now, after all this time. A long-learned shame that always finds its way back into their house, no matter how many times they’ve turned it out and barricaded the doors. 

“Martin,” Jon says, quiet but firm, “Please come back to bed.”

There is a long, breath-held moment when Jon thinks Martin is going to refuse, to insist. So painfully stubborn, his husband. Jon braces himself for it. But Martin just nods ever so slightly against the soft plaid fabric of Jon’s pyjama bottoms.

It takes some time, and a great deal of false starts, to get Martin back on his feet. He’s wearing fluffy socks—Jon remembers putting them on for him, when he’d been shivering even in his sleep—that slide on the kitchen tiles, and Jon’s fighting against his own dizziness, which comes and goes in waves when he changes position, to lend Martin purchase. At last, they’re both standing. And although it likely doesn’t help much, Martin lets Jon slide his arm around Martin’s back as he guides them towards the bedroom. 

The bedside lamp is on its dullest setting on account of Martin’s persistent illness, and there are blankets and tissues and medicines thrown at random intervals around the room. Jon leads Martin towards the bed, not letting him stop to correct the mess, to try and restore some order to it. If this is how their lives have to be for the next few days—or weeks—so be it. Jon won’t sacrifice Martin’s recovery for this.

“Sit down,” Jon tells Martin, right before Martin gracelessly throws himself onto the edge of the mattress, listing towards the—thankfully padded—headrest.

Martin is still crying, but in that slow, distant way that makes something deep in Jon ache. It’s almost like the tears don’t belong to Martin. Like he is crying them on behalf of someone else. He stares across the room, half sprawled on the bed with his socked feet languid against the carpet, as the tears fall uninhibited down his face.

Carefully, Jon leans down just enough to pick up Martin’s legs, one at a time, and lift them onto the bed. He’s out of breath by the time he’s managed to get Martin lying down fully, still leaning against the headboard and staring vaguely at the wall opposite the bed. There is a picture hanging there, of them both outside the courthouse where they’d gotten married, but Martin seems to be staring through it.

“I’ll be right back,” Jon promises. He doesn’t know if he’s reassured or terrified that Martin simply lets him leave, barely reacting beyond the briefest twitch of an expression.

In the bathroom, Jon fills up a pint glass of water and wets a soft green flannel beneath the tap. He takes a moment to breathe, to drink some water as well, to swallow some ibuprofen for his aching joints, before he carries his small gifts back into the bedroom.

Martin is exactly where Jon left him. Jon sits next to him on the bed, and when Jon hands him the large glass of water, Matin takes it instinctively. But he doesn’t drink from it, holding it in his hands as if it is yet another thing that doesn’t belong to him, that he will carry unflinchingly for the time being—like the tears. Like the pain.

“Please drink the water, love,” Jon says. He touches one of his hands to Martin’s, where he’s holding the glass, and Martin’s eyes flicker briefly to his. Jon nods in encouragement.

With trembling hands, both closed around the large glass, Martin lifts the water to his lips and drinks. He doesn’t manage much—a few sips before his mouth tightens with nausea, and he has to lower the glass and breathe. But it’s a start.

“That’s good, Martin,” Jon soothes, as he takes the glass from Martin’s hands and places it on their bedside table. “Do you want to lie down?”

“Jon,” Martin tries to say.

“Shh. It’s alright. Lie down, just like that, that’s it.”

Martin reclines against the pillow, restlessness warring against exhaustion, until he looks almost settled. Jon tugs the blanket from the end of the bed and covers Martin with it, smoothing down the edges with extra care. Martin watches him, turned slightly on his side so he can look up at where Jon is still half-sitting against the headboard.

“I hate this,” Martin chokes, and blinks fresh tears down his cheeks. “I feel like—like everything is wrong.”

“In what way?” Jon asks gently, keeping his eyes on Martin as he reaches for the wet flannel sitting on the bedside table next to the three-quarters full glass of water.

Martin closes his eyes. “I’m so—I’m so tired, Jon.”

Jon lowers the flannel to Martin’s face, wiping first beneath his eyes, where some of the tears have collected and soaked into the begging of his laughter lines. “I know.”

Martin’s face crumples with something like grief. “That’s just it, though. This is—it’s nothing. Nothing compared to—to what you... And I’m just—making more of it than it needs.”

“Martin.”

“This isn’t—before, with Mum, I’d just—I’d keep going because—”

Martin frowns, sentence finishing abruptly. Jon pushes down the urge to correct, to intervene, and instead, with every ounce of patience and love he feels for Martin in this moment, continues to draw the flannel over the planes of his warm, weary face.

“I can’t stop,” Martin whispers at last, opening his eyes. “If I stop, then I’ll—I won’t ever start again. Like with the—the Lonely. Every time you reached out, I knew if I just stopped even for a moment, I wouldn’t be able to go back, and it would all fall apart. I’m not meant to stop. I can’t. I’m not resilient or, or the kind of person who can get knocked down and get back up again. It’s just—it’s keep going or...”

Jon drags the flannel along Martin’s jaw, down his throat, wiping away the remaining tears where they mingle with fever sweat. He focuses entirely on his task, a perfect excuse to carefully consider his next words. A separate part of his mind is processing that his theories had been right, in some way, and how he aches for Martin—the predictability of it doesn’t ease the pain. But Martin needs something other than that right now.

“Martin.” Jon starts, of course, at the beginning of all things. With love. With a reason. “There are moments in life when sometimes we need to stop. Think about it like... like an orchestra. In an orchestra, there are times where an instrument, or even an entire segment, will be given a break within the music or by the conductor—because it’s needed and it’s necessary. The performance is better for it. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Martin blinks up at Jon, slow and exhausted but comprehending. Jon continues his task, wiping the cloth across Martin’s forehead now.

“You are the most resilient person I know, Martin. I would be lying to you—and I think you know that—if I said I’d never seen you get knocked down. But I have watched you get back up again and again and again,” Jon continues. “If this time, it takes a little longer—if this time, you’re not sure when you can begin again—that’s alright. You deserve rest. You have nothing to prove, except perhaps that you can stop—or pause, if it’s easier to think of it that way—and the world won’t collapse around you.” Jon removes the flannel from Martin’s forehead and replaces it with a gentle kiss. “I won’t let it.” 

Jon lets his lips linger before he lowers his head onto the pillows to face Martin. Martin is still crying, eyes bright with tears and fever both, but there’s something less dejected in his expression. Something less lost.

“I’m sorry,” Martin whispers, “For the crying, and—”

“There’s nothing to apologise for.”

“Not even the laundry?” Martin’s voice is so small, still trembling with tears. But there’s the briefest glimpse of a smile at the corner of his chapped lips.

“Not even the laundry,” Jon agrees, although he puts on a begrudging front.

Martin closes his eyes and leans forward, so that his and Jon’s foreheads are touching in the small gap between their two pillows. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“And I—I want to believe you.”

Jon feels himself smile, and he hopes Martin knows it is all for him. “Thank you.”

Jon knows they will talk about this again. He knows this will be something understood and folded into the fabric of their lives slowly, piece by painful piece. But for now, as he watches Martin’s tears slowly ease, replaced eventually by sleep, and as Jon himself begins to follow, he thinks at the threshold of his dreams that next time might be just a little bit easier. A little bit kinder. And that is always enough.

[amor-immortalem]

Everything Undesired chapter 12

chapter 11

Warning: kidnapping

A/N: I hope y'all are ready for a very heavy chapter because toward the end our Greed boi is going to go to a very dark place with his real thoughts on Cyrus.

“Do you think he does?” Belphie asked as he watched his older brother feed the baby.

“It would make sense.” The second-born shrugs. “I think Lucifer realized it too ‘n that’s why he was in such a big hurry for Beel and him to leave.”

The seventh-born only nods in response. “Hey I heard you three are going up to the mortal world after the term... Is that true?”

“Yeah... ‘Rella says she wants to go back to her home in York. I like the idea- been there a couple times with her after Solomon taught her to summon us. It’s nice. Hardly anybody stops by so it should be relaxin’ ‘n maybe it’ll do the baby some good to get away from the house for a bit.”

“More power to you, since we don’t know a whole lot about what kind of nutrients cambions need to begin with, it’ll probably be good for him to get some sunlight, I guess. Hey, why’re you holding the bottle that way? Doesn't it make more sense to hold it higher so he finishes eating faster?”

“Nah, any higher and he could take too much and inhale it while he’s eating. Learned that out the hard way with Satan. Plus, lowers your chances of gettin' spat up on.”

“It’s crazy that you stepped up like that for him... How did you do it?” The Avatar of Sloth leans his head against Mammon’s shoulder.

“Lots of sleepless nights and lots of coffee- I swear, m’blood probly consisted of just coffee back then,” Mammon pulls the bottle away from Cyrus after he had finished eating and started to burp him, “at least for those first few months anyway.”

“I’m not surprised,” Belphie hums.

“S'why our rooms are right next to each other. That way I wasn’t having to risk poppin’ my stitches runnin’ through the halls just t’get to him before he could wake any of y’all up. Man, that thing took forever t’heal. Not t’mention it kept getting infected since between watchin’ out for the lil’ ball of wrath that was our brother ‘n school, ‘n plannin’ Lilith’s service, I only had the time t’really take care of it when I showered save for the rare moments I had to change my bandages...” Mammon is silent for a moment, “I don’t regret it though. Gettin' to see him grow up to become a strong demon and knowing I made that possible, makes it all the reward itself.”

The younger brother only nods as he notices the infant’s eyes were glued to him- more specifically at his face. “What’re you staring at, kid? Do I have something on my face?”

“Nah, it’s just a thing babies do around this age. Its more about learning faces and facial expressions right now,” The older brother explains.

“Considering what you went through, you seem awfully calm now when you deal with him.”

“It's parental instinct and nothing more right now. Think of it as your body moving on its own. If I’m being honest with you, it’s still kind of hard- especially when he gets clingy like this but I think I’m gettin' better with him- acceptin' reality for what it is and learning to bond with him. Believe me, Belphie this isn’t how I wanted to have my first kid, but,” Mammon lets out a depressed sigh, “I’m a father now... and that means I have to suck it up and get my shit together. It’s what he deserves at the very least.”

“Wow, I guess what they say is true, huh? You really do change your ways once you have a kid.”

“Whatcha mean by that? I feel like I should feel insulted...”

“Sorry, it wasn’t meant to come out that way, Mams... It’s just that it feels like you’ve changed. Before all this, there wasn’t a single day where you went without thinking of easy ways to make a quick grimm, not a day where we didn’t have to take inventory of our stuff in fear that you had stolen something valuable of ours, went on massive shopping sprees whenever you could, but now... now, you don’t do any of that. It’s like you grew up somehow... like you’re back to how you were when we were angels and how you were way back when we had just fallen and your sin hadn’t quite settled in yet, you know?”

“Let’s just say priorities have changed...”

“Well, whatever the reason, it’s a nice change. I’m going to head to bed now. See you around.” Belphie smiled as he got up and left.

“See ya, Belphie.”

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

He doesn’t remember how long he sat with Cyrus until the little one fell asleep against his chest, but once he placed the infant in the crib, he just stood there, lost in dark thoughts.

“It’s funny...” The white-haired demon’s voice was hardly above a whisper, “I should resent your presence in my life- wish you were never born, hate you. The worst part of me- the scummy part of me- does. You took everything that I was reserving for my child with Arella and you’re a representation of everything your birth mother did to me but... I can’t- and that’s what I hate most about you. Maybe my reason for keepin’ you comes from a fear that I won’t have the guts to risk my mate’s life that way so I just took the closest alternative I could ever get to that... I know... I know I’m being selfish by keeping her for myself as long as I can and not giving her that family with me she wants so badly and it makes me angry to watch her give a child that’s not even hers so much love when you shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place... Now it's far too late to get rid of you without hurting her.... I made the wrong choice for me even though I know ultimately it was the right one for you.”

He bit his tongue as a snarl formed on his face. Here, with no one to hear him, Mammon would let out his true feelings as wrong as it was. As if letting them out would somehow change his feelings for this child.

“For now, I’ll lie and pretend for your sake and everyone else’s. No one will ever know the way I wish Lucifer just would have done away with ya and part of me wonders... if a lower demon were to attack you and none of my brothers or Arella were there to spur me to action, would I even bother to protect you or would I dare to act selfishly and just let you die? Let the problem resolve itself? Ya better prove that you were ever worth what I’ve been putting myself through in the first pla-”

A sudden bout of clarity strikes the demon, the weight of what he had just said hit him like a stack of bricks and suddenly he can’t breathe. Oh devils, he can’t breathe under the weight of it all. Was he really that messed up in the head that he would do this to his own child? That he would force Cyrus to earn his love when he knows he should just give it to him unconditionally? What happened to all that progress he thought he’d been making? What kind of father would that make him? His eyes widened in horror at the thought as he broke down in silent tears.

How unfit of a father am I? He thought, He’s my son and I can’t even bring myself to love him? I really am the worst scum of the devildom. I’ve been holding some kind of grudge against a baby for crying out loud! Is this how I would act if Arella and I had a kid and they killed her?! The thought terrifies him. He wanted so badly to be a father and now that he was, this is the way he reacted to it? Unforgivable. Mammon remembered how it felt to fight for his father’s love and how he felt when Arella told him about her horrible mother and he felt so disgusted with it but wasn’t he just the same?

As he sank down to his knees, he felt a tiny hand grasp one of his fingers and his head snapped up. There was his son who had managed to wiggle his way closer to the edge of the crib, watching him with eyes full of what appeared to be fear. It froze his blood to see that look on anyone, let alone his own child. Without thinking, the Avatar of Greed rushes forward, scoops the child up and holds his son close to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers as fresh tears begin to fall. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” Apologies tumble from his mouth in between choked sobs. “I said all those terrible things to ya. I don’t mean them. I don’t.” He doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince more at this point. Was it himself or his son? “I love ya. I love ya. I love ya. I’ll change. I’ll do anything I can for you- give you everything ya deserve.”

The baby only cooed softly, trying so hard to lift his head up, but with the way his father was held his head to his chest left no other option but for Cyrus to pat his hands against his father’s chest.

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

Over the coming years, Mammon held true to his word on that dark night. He embraced his son fully and finally formed a deep bond with him. There were some good days, some bad, but never once had the demon let his mind wander back to that dark place of hate and malice. At some point, the Avatar of Greed was even able to move past the rape all together and he felt completely at peace with everything that had happened to bring his son into his life. He and Arella had even decided to take the chance to bring a new life into this world and were now expecting a set of twins. Everything felt right. But peace is never lasting for demons and Mammon has always been unlucky.

It was five minutes. Five. Damn. Minutes. Mammon should have known better. Cyrus had gone with his father to one of his photoshoots. Typically, he kept the boy in his sights at all times but this time he allowed his director to turn his attention elsewhere for a better shot from a different angle. When the demon turned back to check on his child, Cyrus was nowhere to be seen and the Avatar of Greed panicked. It was only five minutes but he was gone. He hoped the little one had just gone off to use the bathroom and would be back shortly, but after a few minutes of nervous waiting, Cyrus never reappeared.

The whole set went into a frenzy searching for the child but he was nowhere to be found in the building. Mammon wanted to scream. How could he have let this happen? His child was taken. The white-haired demon couldn’t even finish the photoshoot as he dashed out the door searching- looking for any possible trail that would lead him to Cyrus, but there was nothing. Not even a scent trail to follow. He feels his heart break as horrible thoughts ran rampant through his head. That crushing weight from five years earlier was back.

With shaking hands, he pulled out his D.D.D. from his pocket and called his older brother. Told him everything that happened. How he let his child be abducted because he got careless, how he’s searched every conceivable place he could think of. After that, the entire family mobilized. Levi ordered his Navy to search for the boy, other smaller search parties were formed as well but nothing ever came of them. They even asked Solomon to search the mortal world and there were some leads but that too led to dead ends.

Mammon, Arella and the rest of the Avatars were left heartbroken by the loss. Not even with the birth of their twins were the parents able to find peace. Six months went by, then a year, then three- after five, the searches were called off. His body was never found, which left everyone with hope. It was hope that Mammon would hold onto until he was left with no other choice.

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Next

There’s one more part left: an epilogue stay tuned folks.

Find more on my masterlist

[kroerms]

Half-way (part three)

pairing: Akaashi Keiji x y/n (gender neutral)

genre: angstish at the beginning, happy ending!

warnings: bad coping mechanisms, almost depression like symptoms at the beginning. That's it I think, if I forgot something, please feel free to tell me.

a/n: this is part 3 out of 3 of this fic. I hope you all enjoyed the first two parts and I hope you will enjoy the last part as well. I love interactions so please feel free to tell me what you think about this fic :) reblogs are greatly appreciated. <3 love y'all!!

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“Come on y/n, ya need ta leave that bed. Please. If ya don’t want ta get up for yerself, then at least get up and take a quick shower for me? A can’t handle this any longer. Yer just a shadow of who ya once were and A am not going ta let ya bathe in self loathing any longer. If ya don’t get up by yerself, A am going ta drag ya under the shower and out of this house maself.” Even if Atsumu’s words are a bit harsh, his voice is still as soft and comforting as it was the last couple of weeks you have spent at his place.

Another week has passed since “the dining table incident” and you are yet to get back to work.

To your luck, your boss gave you some holidays on short notice and you took a few extra health days. So you haven’t had to leave Atsumu’s guest room in the last few weeks.

You really don’t want to leave the comforts of the warm blankets and the many pillows that are laid out all over the bed. But Atsumu is right. You really need to take a shower. And it sure wouldn’t hurt to see the sun again. Since Atsumu took you in that night you haven’t left your room once, unless you had to use the bathroom.

So you nod meekly and sit up on the bed. Atsumu’s eyes widen slightly at your sudden movement, but a warm smile quickly grows on his face.

“There ya go, beautiful. Now how ‘bout that shower, hm?” Atsumu reaches out for you and grabs your hand with his. In one motion, he pulls you out of bed and into a standing position. The quick movement makes your head a little dizzy and you hold onto Atsumu for support.

“Yeah alright, no need ta get all touchy with me, beautiful. A am not the right man for ya anyways,” he smirks and you jokingly punch him on his broad chest.

“Oh shut up. I’m going to take a shower.” You smile at Atsumu. The gratitude you feel towards your friend is endless. You couldn’t have wished for a better friend in a time like this and so you go into the bathroom, undress yourself and get into the warm shower just for his sake. You decide that he is right. Enough is enough. You love Keiji with all your heart but you can’t just not live your life anymore until he comes back to you. At least you hope he will come back to you. This thought alone is what makes you want to see the sunlight again.

After the shower you change into casual clothes and brush your teeth. While you look at yourself in the mirror you understand what Atsumu meant when he said you look like the shadow of who you once were. He is right, you think. The dark circles under your eyes and the swollen eyelids from crying almost all day every day are evidence of your self loathing and it has to stop. So you look at yourself and give yourself a little pep talk before leaving the bathroom.

Atsumu is already waiting at the door for you, jacket in one hand and car keys in the other.

“Come on beautiful, let’s get ya out of here and back into the world. How ‘bout we get something ta eat? ” He says, while opening the front door. You agree and so the both of you leave his house.

Little do you know that you are not going to get something to eat right now, since Atsumu has a different plan in mind.

You don’t really notice where Atsumu is driving you until you reach your destination. It’s the park where Keiji asked you to be his almost 6 years ago.

“What are we doing here, I thought we are going to get something to eat?” You ask, your heart rate already picking up as you see the way Atsumu looks at you. Almost a little guilty he answers: “A am sorry, but A had ta promise ta make it a surprise. Please don’t be mad at me. Just get out of the car. If ya need me, A am picking ya up again, just give me a call, alright beautiful?”

He reaches over to the door and opens it for you. Your knees feel like jelly as you get out of Atsumu’s car and start to walk to the big oak tree up on the little hill at the back of the park. Your heart skips like every other beat as you near your destination. It’s not like Atsumu told you to go to that tree, you just know this is where you need to go because it is Keiji’s and your favorite spot in the entire park. As you get near the tree you see little lights in the branches and under it lies your favorite picnic blanket.

Keiji is sitting on the blanket patiently waiting for you to reach him. He doesn’t look like it but his heart is racing so fast, he feels like he just ran a marathon.

Soon enough you stand before him, a little awkward you tiptoe from one foot to the other and you fiddle with your fingers.

“Hi…”, you say, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Hey.” Keiji looks at you with warm, sad eyes. He now stands up as well, although keeping his distance out of fear that you would reject his advances to take your hand or to hug you.

“What is all of this?” you ask while gesturing to the lights above your head. You just now realize that besides all the little lights, there are lots and lots of little origami hearts on nylon thread.

“You can open them...you’ll understand once you do that.” Keiji answers.

You slowly make your way to the first heart and free it from the thread. You start to unfold it. On the back of the paper stands ‘because you are the most beautiful human being on this planet’. You look at Keiji dumbfounded. He just shrugs with his shoulders and says “open another one”.

You open the next and it says ‘because time spent without you is only worth half as much as time spent with you’.

“I don’t understand. What is all of this?”

“It’s all of the reasons why I am undeniably in love with you. It’s all the reasons why I want to be with you. It’s me not giving up halfway. It’s me telling you how sorry I am for hurting you like I did.” He looks at you with so much love and adoration in his gaze. Just like he used to.

Your eyes fill with tears and you wipe them with the sleeve of your hoodie before opening up the next heart. ‘because your smile still gives me butterflies’.

Another one. ‘because nothing feels better than listening to you reading your book out loud to me’.

Another. ‘because having you by my side is the best part of my life’.

You open up at least ten other hearts until you can’t read what they say anymore because your eyes are now filled to the brim with tears, clouding your vision. You turn to look at Keiji whose eyes are filled with tears as well.

“I love you so so much. And I can’t even begin to describe how sorry I am for not seeing it for a while. I am truly sorry that I hurt you like this and I will spend the rest of my life proving to you how much I love you, if you let me that is. Please be mine again.” Keiji looks at you, hands shaking in fear of what you are going to say.

“Keiji…”, you begin. But you have to take a break from speaking because your voice breaks. After a couple of seconds you try again.

“Did you read the letter I left you?” you ask.

“Yes. Over and over again to be honest”, he answers quietly.

“Then you already know my answer. I told you I would be here with open arms. The past couple of weeks were hell. I am not denying that I was hurt very badly. But I love you with all of my heart and that never changed. I missed you so so much, my love. And I am so glad that you found your way back to me again.” You reach for his hand and he lets you pull him into you, his own arms slinging around your shoulders while yours hold him around his waist. His head lays on top of yours while the both of you bask in each other's love.

After a moment you pull away, much to Keiji’s dismay. A pout forming on his lips. You look him in the eyes and whisper: “I love you so much.”

“And I love you. Today, tomorrow and for the rest of my life if you let me.” he whispers, before bending down slightly so that his lips can reach yours.

Keiji and you know that love exists. You can see it in each other’s eyes when you look at one another. You can feel it in the air around you as you lay on the picnic blanket under the oak tree. And you both know that love, real love - YOUR love lasts a lifetime. And the both of you couldn’t be happier that you are only half-way to the end of that road and that there will be many years to come for the love of you to grow stronger every second of every day.

[eddiemunsonwoofty]

Fix Me - Part Three

Summary: You reach out to the local "freak"/drug dealer for some kind of escape after your mom dies. Turns out he's the escape you needed.

Caution: drug use, talks of death, sex talk.

📝: not much of a note but I've just been inspired. I hope you've liked parts 1&2 so far.

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"Eddie!" I screamed, "You scared me! And stop calling me princess, Geez!"

"Why? It suits you." He said with a toothy smile. "Suits me?" I questioned. "Look at me, do I look like the princess of the school anymore?" You look down at yourself. You are somewhat disgusted by how you look now, compared to just 7 or 8 months ago.

You had really let yourself go. No semblance of a fashion sense. Your hair a wreck, and you kind of smelled. You pause to think of the last time you showered properly. Like full blown good shower. Not the half ass shower you take when dad yells at you for being like this all week. Those showers are tap in, scrub some shit, tap out.

You come back out of your thoughts, still seeing Eddie up against the tree, staring. "What. Munson?" You shouted. "Haven't you ever seen a depressed person in your life?" Eddie stops gawking at you. His toothy smile turns to a frown. "So is that why you hit me up?" He asked. "Yes, Eddie, I'm sad." I plopped myself back on the bench of the table. Eddie came and sat beside me and put his metal lunch box in between us. "I heard about your mom," he said softly, "I'm really sorry about that, y/n."

"So let's spark this baby!" All of a sudden Eddie flings open his lunch box. Sacks upon sacks of pot lay inside. His enthusiasm definitely snapped me back, but then I just wondered how he could fit all that in there. He dug around in his "drug box" for a few moments only to pull out a joint. "Wait a minute," I said to pause him from lighting that thing, "I thought...you know, you were just gonna sell me some and I'd go off and smoke myself."

"Are you kidding me, princess?" He grinned. "This is our first sale, I gotta know if you like my shit first!" "Plus, if you get high with me you can't bust me!" He exclaimed rocking his head back and forth to taunt me. I laughed as he teased me about it. I hadn't laughed in a long time.

How was he making me laugh? No one else ever could. Was it because we weren't close, so what he said didn't matter? What is going on here? Eddie "the freak" Munson and I were getting along?

"Come on, princess...I mean y/n." He said sarcastically, "Take a couple hits, and you'll be fine." He lit the joint, puffed it a couple times, then passed it my way. "Uh...honestly Eddie," I state the obvious, but I am DEFINITELY embarrassed, "I really don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

"Oh, so your a virgin princess?" Eddie cheesed at me. "Oh my God, Eddie!" I rolled my eyes, but answered him. "Yes, I'm a drug virgin. Now tell me what to do!"

"Uh, well....you just...suck it." He said as his cheeks turned red, realizing what he just said. I ignored what he said, but listened to what he said at the same time. I sucked in...too much! I began to cough uncontrollably. "What the fuck!" I exclaim in between bouts of my coughs. "I forgot to mention, suck...softly..." Eddie bust out in full laughter. He slaps the top of the table. Literally about to hemorrhage from laughter at my expense.

I give him back the joint, "maybe this isn't for me." "No, thats my bad," he says. "I should have went easier on you then just letting you go straight in." He takes the joint, and says "Lean towards me. I'll help you out." He puts the joint to his lips and inhales, and holds it. While still holding in the smoke he says, "Open your mouth."

Huh? Open my mouth? I was so confused, but I did as he said. I leaned in and opened my mouth, a little. He grabbed my chin softly and leaned towards me. I closed my eyes, because what the fuck is going on! I suddenly feel his lips on my lips. Holy shit! Then came the smoke, it filled my mouth and started rolling out of it at the same time. Eddie paused, "breathe in." I did, and he finished. "Hold onto it for a sec or two, princess."

I held the smoke as long as I could, then exhaled. *cough, cough* That time it wasn't so bad. But this guy just planted one on me...didn't he? "Did you just kiss me, munson?" I ask shyly. "Ah, don't flatter yourself, princess, its called a shotgun." He explained, "Its easier to take, huh?" "Um...yeah." I said quietly, I was so embarrassed of how clueless I was.

He hands me the joint back. "Ok, try again, but this time go easy." I did as he said, and it was smoother. We smoked there in silence together after that. The whole thing.

It seemed like no time passed but Eddie suddenly flung that lunch box open again and started searching around. "What are you doing, munson?" I ask. He said, "Well, we've been sitting her for like, an hour, so that shit worked on you." "I'm getting you more." "Uh. I don't think I need anymore. I feel like goo on this picnic table." I state, slowly and in a monotone voice. "Yeah. I know, druggie." He giggled. "This is for tomorrow and the next day, then you can come see me again." He hands me another joint. "Only half a day, doctors orders." He says looking into his lunch box. "How much do i owe you?" "This ones on me. You need it." He starts packing his stuff back in his lunch box. "Let's get you home, princess." He holds out his hand so I can get up. He probably thinks I'm going to collapse to the ground. Honestly, so did I. "I'm okay, Eddie." I slur out. "I can make it home on my own."

"Ha, yeah, okay. I'm gonna take you home." He demands. "You're in no shape over there, ya pot head." Teeth coming straight through that smile again.

We walk out of the woods to the parking lot where he helps me into his old rusty van. "Such a gentleman!" I say sarcastically. He just smiles and shuts the door and walks to the drivers side and gets in. "I live over on rox..." he cuts me off. "I know where you live, don't worry princess, just relax." Seriously. What is with the princess thing. I would've been lying to myself, to say that it wasn't growing on me though. I liked how he said it. It was...kind of hot. Wait a second, how did he know where I lived? I was too high to ask or even think about it more, so I just sat back and enjoyed the ride.

The ride back to my place was silent. As we got closer, I noticed both my brother and father were home. Dad works until six? What fucking time was it? I look at my watch. 5:15. Hmmm, why is dad home? "Can you drop me at the corner, eddie?" I asked still completely high. I couldn't have Steve or dad see me with Munson. They'd lose their shit. "Sure thing." He says and pulls to the corner down from my house. "Thanks for the afternoon, Munson." I smile at him. "Anytime, princess." He winks at me and smiles as I shut the door and watch him pull away. I walk the rest of the way home. As I walk inside I see my dad and Steve standing there both with stern looks on their faces and they're arms crossed.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, Y/N!" my dad shouts.

"Fuck...!"

[7soulstars]

*bursts into your room with flowers and chocolate*: YOU CAN NEVER DISSAPPOINT ME ..MY SWEET SWEET ANGEL 💗✨ MY MOST PRECIOUS JEWEL ..MY..

*also remembering loki's knife*: Ahem .. sorry bout that .im just going to quietly leave an ask now hehehe..

how would thranduil and bucky react if you dyed your hair pink .. or blue ..or different crazy colors * i really wanna do mine but my family would be mad so..*

Darling!! *tackles you in a hug*❤😍 (p.s The boys are banned from hugs for threatening you *glares at Loki and Bucky who just sit silently pouting*)

Anyways! The Ask!! I have always wanted to dye my hair and my parents are like well you can do what you want once you're iNdEpEnDeNt and out of our house🤡. So now I am just sticking with those washable spray hair colours. BUT. If I did dye my hair this is probably how our boys would react.

My Incorrect Universe Headcannons

Thranduil

He just freezes and looks MORTIFIED

Don't worry, it's just because the concept of hair dyeing doesn't exist in Middle Earth

Thranduil *absolutely worried, now clinging onto me*: Y-your hair!? My darling did a sorcerer curse you!? Are you dying! Please don't leave me!

Me *feeling really bad for my husband*: Darling no! I just dyed my hair ! I went to visit Earth! I dyed it there!

Thranduil *his face now looking like the confused Pikachu meme*: Dye? Like how we dye our clothes??

Me: Yes

Thranduil: .........so you are not dying?

Me: No darling....

Thranduil: ₒₕ

Me: .......

Thranduil: .........

Me: ..........

Thranduil*blushing out of embarrassment*: Then I must say you do look quite beautiful....

Me*also blushing*: ₒₕ

--Meanwhile,at Rivendell--

*a high pitched scream echoing through the halls*

Lindir,stomping through, red faced, tips of his hair dyed blonde : RUMIL AND PRINCE LEGOLAS COME BACK HERE! YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!

Elrond, watching the scene unfold as he whispers under his breath: It actually suits him.....

Bucky

Nope, just like nope

But I'm a bad bitch so idc

Partially because back in the days hair dying was considered for punks

Bucky *whining even before I begin applying the colour*: But WHY ??

Me*Bad Bitch™* : to cope with my ✨depression✨

Bucky*being a kinky lil shit due to Loki's influence*: but there are OtHeR wAyS to cope with that.

Me*sighing because I'm dating an over 100 year old child*: babe! Stop! It's not a big deal! It's temporary! It'll fade in a few months!

Bucky*sliding down from the couch onto the floor like jello*: noooooo!!

--later--

Bucky*ignoring me for the entire day*

Sam*to me*: Woah! I like the hair! It's cool!

Bucky*offended*: SAM YOU BETRAYING PIECE OF SHIT! I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FRIEND!?

Sam: ??

Me*sighing dramatically*: I brought plums , I guess I'll give them to Shuri since no one wants them

Bucky*all of a sudden hugging me with the largest puppy dog eyes*: ᴵ ʷᵃⁿ ᵖˡᵘᵐ , ᴵ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵃᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵘʳ ʰᵃⁱʳ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵉᵐᵖᵒʳᵃʳʸ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵒʷ ᵖˡᵘᵐ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ 🥺

Yeah..... That's how I imagine it goes. *gets distracted and dreams about it*.

Anyways! I LOVE YOU! I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKED THIS! Also for some reason Loki has written you a seven paged written apology because he wants cuddles. Also kisses from me!! 😘😘

~Love, Hri

[janeaudron]

Update: Electric Boogaloo 2 - Health and Other Updates

Sorry silly title, but need to cheer myself up. Putting a “read more” since this may be long.

For those concerned only about dice, just highlight “ Dice Time ” (minus quotes) and you should be in that section.

Also for the  tl;dr folks - Health really sucks right now and is disabling me from living/doing just about everything.

So it’s been a rough for months to year(s) for me. I’m doing better from getting really sick a few months ago and then the sudden kidney infections a few weeks after getting better. But my main health issue right now is everything related to my back and the muscles associated with and around it. Kinda feel like it’s getting worse but that may be me letting it get to me...

I usually try not to bring up my health issues too much but this one is affecting just about everything I’m doing to a great degree and it’s been driving me nuts. Why I just have long breaks of inactivity now. Also family issues(MORE HEALTH) but I want to keep that private.

Don’t know what is wrong but something constantly has my left side tight and also sometimes my hips and rib cage get tight. Right around my left shoulder blade down to my mid back/lower ribcabe is constantly hurting, but mostly feels sore. So with this constant pain it makes it just about impossible for me to do things for short or long periods of time. Also it makes sleeping a pain. It’s just a pain that eats at you mentally and physically.

Oh added bonus, whatever is wrecking my back also wrecks my digestive track! I am just a ball of health issues right now.

I’m glad my job has been understanding and has allowed me to reduce my hours, but I feel like I’m still struggling to meet the reduced hours with how bad some days can get where I just can’t operate.

This pain is also holding me back from doing any art as I just can’t sit or stand comfortably to work for a few hours. It’s been disheartening to say the least. Depressing really as I’ve got a folder of wips I want to finish and my board game idea is just staring at me. Done more writing/mechanics progress to a point with that but no true art due to pain killing all motivation.

Which is extra annoying since I thought I was going to finally have time to get my Ko-Fi/Patreon going for the board game development and other stuff. But if I can’t produce art and other content at a decent pace, I don’t feel comfortable having those up. Just finished finalizing all the details and tiers too. >:(

Currently working with my doctors to try and figure out what is going on, but no luck so far. Back adjustments help but are so temporary it’s frustrating. I’m doing all sorts of stretches and especially try not to undo the adjustments but they barely last a week before the pain is back and occasionally it’s worse. Also trying to adjust how I currently work and that’s had little to mild results. May try to get a split keyboard sometime in the future.

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Fan Blog

Yeah chapter updates and other content will be on hold for awhile. Have mild bouts were I can do some writing but still not a lot of writing.

I may have a few solo fics I may be posting soon-ish.

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Dice Time - Rather short update here.

So dice production stopped when I got really sick a few months ago, but it’s back up and running. Though running slow when you take in account of all the info above about my health. For the tl;dr folks - Health really sucks and is disabling me from living/doing stuff.

Have some unfinished sets(matte and shiny) that I need to sand to a finished state but that’s going to take awhile.

If y’all don’t mind me posting raws for sale for some time just let me know. 

Also have a bunch of unfinished misfits(fine just no full sets) and then mishaps/flawed dice that I need to figure out how I want to sell. Thinking of doing it mystery box or bag style for those.

And have to remake a few molds when I can get some more silicone(it will be awhile with everything going on.) Had some numbers tear and then some surfaces got a bit weird. Don’t know what happened to cause some weird surface textures. Funs of moldmaking.