#health issues driving me nuts

[thatzombiecat]

·· Commorragh moments ·· ♫: Jakob Ahlbom - Fracture

[keepingthepeaceinouterspace]

Psyched that I get to pay $278 for seeing a cardiologist because my PCP said there were something weird on my EKG only to go to the cardio and find out there was nothing wrong in the first place and for my PCP to say "oh no it wasn't because of the EKG, it was because of the placement of the numbness". Which was MADDENING because I'm not fucking experiencing numbness and literally nothing about my issue points to my heart. It points to a spine issue or a posture issue.

[teratosfavouritesnack]

~ Dirty Hobby ~

roommate!werewolf x afab!reader - roommates to lovers, sexual frustration, (slightly) dub-con, dry humping/frottage, thigh job, impact play, cum play, degradation kink if you squint

3,4k.

Writing stories is a lot of fun. It's a passion for you, something you enjoy doing in your spare time, but you also see it as a way to release emotions that would otherwise weigh on you. Typically, you prefer romance although your stories always end up being far spicier than anticipated. That may reveal something about you, specifically that you need a good fucking, but staying at home all the time and never socializing with anyone doesn't pair well with being sexually active. Last time you let a not-fictitious being fuck you must have been not less than 80 stories ago; 5k words each, mind you.

The only non-fictitious being you interact with on a daily basis is your roommate, Alexis, also known as the 'good boy'. You call him that on occasion simply because you love the way his long fluffy tail eagerly wiggles back and forth, in stark contrast to the grimace he always gives you in answer to your playful mocking. He's also a 'good boy' because he never caused you any trouble in the six months you've been sharing a flat. He is clean, not nosy or noisy, and rarely invites people over, which is a huge plus for you.

Another major benefit of having Alexis as a roommate is that you basically have a living, breathing prototype for the protagonists in your works of fiction. Perhaps it sounds weird, but you've used him as the base of the love interests in your romances more times than you probably should have... Does that imply that you're in love with him? No! Well, not exactly. You could say you are attracted to him. You enjoy his presence, his massive presence, as well as his grave but sweet voice, his kind eyes, his long snout that screams 'pat me! pat me!', his long muscular arms that could so effortlessly sweep you up and...

Anyway. You like the dude. As in, he's a good friend who also happens to be very good to look at. You've done your best to separate him from the dozens of characters he has inspired thus far, and you'd like to keep it that way. Separate. Luckily, he is unaware of your… recreational activity. And he'll never know about it.

However, while your mind has managed to make things feel acceptable and not as odd as they actually are, what your body does is a very different story. Writing erotica has an undeniable impact on the writer, especially if you're describing fantasies you've indulged in far too many times before. What that entails for you is that you're aroused on a regular basis. And the fact that the character from your stories is walking around the house, chatting with you and parading around the very assets you fawn over in your wildest dreams makes it even more difficult for your body to remain partial... Makes things all the more wet, to be precise. Yes. Sometimes it's so uncomfortable that you have to take care of it right away, cleaning up and changing your underwear before returning to your chores. Other times, you just get on with your day despite your damp panties. You're used to it by now, so it's not a major issue for you…

It's a major fucking problem for your roommate, though. You have absolutely no idea. You can't even begin to imagine how challenging it is for a werewolf like him to ignore the scent trail you leave behind wherever you move inside the house. It's actually maddening! A torture! If he didn't know you better, he'd assume you were doing it on purpose just to drive him nuts. He tried to remain unaffected, to suppress his urges, but weeks after weeks after weeks, your scent became all he could smell inside the house, inside his own bedroom; even the food tasted like you! He considered moving out, to avoid the risk of doing something he would definitely regret. He does not want to hurt you, of course. It could be a situation beyond your control or a health issue. What does he know? What he knows is that he can't handle it anymore! He can't focus on anything else but your sweet mouthwatering fragrance that makes him hard all the fucking time. He ought to do something about it. He needs to! Before he loses his mind completely.

He's oh so very close to losing it when he barges into your bedroom one evening while you're tapping away on your keyboard, as usual. The sudden bang of your door being forced open makes you jump on your seat, and your eyes instantly snap to him. They widen in shock at the sight of his disheveled state; his shirt is unbuttoned all the way down to his hips, his belt unfastened and the zip of his jeans is halfway down, making his enormous bulge stand out even more. You divert your gaze from it as soon as possible, locking eyes with his instead. But his gaze is no better. His pupils are dilated, and he stares at you as though you're a piece of raw meat. He has never looked so feral before.

“A-Alexis?”

He growls in response, his legs twitching as if he’s ready to pounce on you, but instead he moves his clawed hands to his head and runs them through his ruffled fur in a calming gesture, one you’ve seen him do before whenever he got a bit too fired up.

“I can’t take it anymore-” he rasps, taking a deep breath before fixing his piercing stare on you again. “Whatever it is, you need to take care of it. As soon as possible.”

His words don’t make any sense to you. What should you take care of? Did you forget to take out the trash today? What day is it? No, it’s a tuesday, it’s his turn-

“Did you hear me?”

His voice genuinely rattles you, you’ve never heard him sound so upset before. You must have really pissed him off somehow.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about-” 

He doesn’t seem to hear your answer though, for he starts to move his snout back and forth, from one side of your room to the other, sniffling as if something has suddenly caught his attention. A deep puzzled frown emerges on your face as you watch him step further inside your room, scoping his surroundings like a hound searching for a bone, until he comes to a halt in front of your wardrobe and slams it open without asking for permission.

“What are you doing?”

He ignores the hint of apprehension in your voice and starts to rummage through your clothes so carelessly that you fear he will tear them all to shreds. 

“Alexis! What the heck-!”

He growls in frustration, his clawed hands finding purchase on the cabinet door frame, causing the wood to creak under his grip. You can't see his face since he's still buried deep inside your wardrobe, but you can clearly hear his frantic sniff sniff sniff as he obstinately pursues the source of the smell that apparently irritates him so much he turns into a literal beast. 

You’re unsure whether to approach him in this state or just wait for him to put an end to whatever’s happening, but before you can come to a conclusion, Alexis crouches down with a satisfied huff and pulls back from the wardrobe with…

"My dirty laundry…?"

You give him an odd look as he drops the basket on the floor in front of you. Is this the source of the smell that bothered him? But there's no foul odor coming from it, at least not one that you can smell. There's not much inside after all, only a towel and...

Your eyes widen as Alexis reaches out with his hand and grabs a pair of dirty undies from the basket, instantly sending your face blushing with heat and your stomach flipping in embarrassment.

"Wha-! P-Put that back!" You stutter, clearly flustered, attempting to steal your underwear from his grasp, but he quickly moves them out of your reach, bringing them to his nose and taking a good sniff. Your face turns even more red at the sight.

"This." he growls, peering down at the fabric, his gaze fixated on the still damp patch sitting in the center. "This is the problem."

You're too mortified to argue with him about it, so you quickly blurt out, "I'm washing it right away, okay? Now give it back!" as you reach out again, only for him to jerk his arm away a second time.

"No. You do not understand. It's not just today," he says, clutching your underwear in his palm and piercing you with his golden eyes. “It’s everyday. Everywhere. I can only smell this.”

Oh.

Oh.

So… all this time… he could smell your…

Shock roots you to the spot. You’re left gaping at him, lips moving yet no sound comes out of your mouth. You had no idea. You didn’t even think about it. If you knew, maybe you could have refrained from writing so much, every damn day… You could have gone to a cafè instead of staying at home… Or you could have at least been a tad more careful-

"What's got you so worked up every fucking moment?" he asks, huffing in exasperation and looking around your room as if seeking the root of your problem, until his gaze settles on your desk. "You're always on your computer, tapping on that damned keyboard. I can hear you from my own room. You've got a long distance relationship or something?"

"I…I’m sorry. I d-didn’t mean to uhh… upset you?” You fumble over your words, struggling to find an appropriate response to this ridiculous and surreal circumstance, while simultaneously stepping back in front of the computer to hide it from his observant eye. "This won't happen again... Alright?"

His brow raises in interest, ears perking up and golden eyes peering into yours. You're sure he can tell how nervous you are. Gosh, you know now he must also be able to smell how shamefully aroused you are at the chance of being caught, your secret dirty hobby being exposed.

"Whatcha hiding, mh?" he taunts, taking a step closer, amusement and vexation mixing in a lethal combo. He cranes his neck to look behind you, but you're too close to the screen for him to catch a glimpse of it. "A secret lover? I'll grant you permission to let them come over. Maybe that will help you."

You're physically shaking with both dread and excitement, your wide eyes locked on his face, your hands reaching out to shove him back. Your stomach flips as you realize your palms have made contact with the fur on his chest and heat instantly pools in your abdomen when you spot the dilation of his pupils; they get so wide his golden irises almost disappear.

Before you have any chance to avoid it, he has you imprisoned against his body, his palm wrapped around the back of your neck, burying your face in his chest while he bends over to your computer. Your complaints are muffled by his fur, and your hands clutching at his sides are merely giving him a massage. There's nothing you can do against him. He is too big and strong... and warm, and soft, and he smells like fresh grass after rainfall. Oh, it’s even better than what you imagined…

You feel his muscles tense up around you just a moment before a loud bark of hearty laughter erupts from him, rumbling in his chest against your cheek and pulling you out of your reveries.

“Hunter’s Moon! That’s what you’ve been doing all along?” He pulls you back by tugging at your hair, his eyes full of mirth - and maybe a hint of mockery - as he stares down at you. “That’s what makes you so wet all the time that I can’t fucking breathe?”

“T-That’s not-!”

You're so ashamed that you'd rather combust into millions of particles and disappear right now. But there's also that wicked part of you that is pleased to hear you've had such a profound effect on him with your scent. The same side that relishes the way he's holding your hair, looking down at you, and laughing.

“You want a beast to fuck you?”

The way he spits out those words makes you shudder, and all you can do is stare up at him, astonished. His other hand moves to your face, grazing the outline of your cheek with the back of his clawed fingers, making your taut body shiver even more, your stomach doing somersaults. He can certainly feel it. He can see the desire wallowing in your wide shiny eyes. And it excites him. 

“Oh, sweetie. You could have just said so.”

And with that, he has your heart bursting downright out of your chest as he twists you around and bends you onto your desk, your fingers grasping the edge, your head almost colliding with your computer's screen. His hand pushes on the small of your back, causing your body to arch and your bottom to stick out. You feel his erection push against your jeans, directly against the crack of your ass, as he bends over you, his hot breath brushing the shell of your ear.

“Who would have thought you were so naughty…” he whispers slowly, voice laced with amusement. "Writing about werewolves ravishing you…" His free hand creeps over your hip and slides towards your belly. "Destroying your little human holes…" His fingers creasing and raising the thin fabric of your tee as they dig into the soft flesh of your abdomen, steadily crawling lower. He laughs again, blowing warm air into your skin when he notices you whimpering quietly and trembling under his touch. 

“Isn’t that what you write about, mh? Why don't you read it for me?"

Your eyes widen, and you meet his amused look with a shiver that runs down your spine and lands between your thighs. He gives you a wolfish grin before nudging your head with his snout and turning it towards the screen. "C'mon. Read it."

You can't think clearly, let alone focus on the text on the white screen. Your heart is racing and the heat in your lower abdomen is becoming unbearable. If only he moved his fingers lower to offer you just a little relief...

“Start from the line that says how the beast rips your pants apart… That sounds like fun.”

You’re panting so hard already and he’s barely touched you. You have to swallow a couple of times to clear your throat and moisten your dry mouth before you’re able to speak again. But even then your voice comes out shaky and subdued as you start reading your own wicked fantasies out loud.

“...he groped the round sphere of her ass, massaging her flesh as if to prepare her for what was about to come-”

You yelp as you feel both his palms land on your ass, groping you over the fabric of your pants.

“Keep going. Don’t leave me hanging…” he croons teasingly in your ear, giving your cheeks a squeeze as an incentive.

You take a shuddering breath and then exhale, hoping to calm your frenzied heartbeat - as if that’s possible in a situation like this - and resume reading from where you left off.

“...a loud gasp of shock escaped her lips when his hands pulled at her pants and ripped the fabric apart as if it was made of paper-”

And with that, your pants are gone too, leaving only a few bits of fabric hanging around your thighs. You don’t even care about your clothes right now, you just want him to take you. You need him. You want him so badly. 

His claws run along your panties, purposefully missing the wet spot sitting right at the center. Your legs weakly buckle in protest.

“What about these? What happens to her soaked panties?”

“Ripped apart as well.” you answer forthwith, pushing your ass back to seek more friction and thus sending him laughing at your eagerness.

His fingers coil around the fabric's edges, yanking at it as if ready to tore it, only to let go and snap the elastic band against your skin.

"Nah. I think I'll keep them on for now," he muses, his voice still cracking with amusement as if he's thoroughly enjoying torturing you and driving you insane.

Your indignant cry rapidly turns into a shocked gasp as you feel something long and hard shove against your panties-clad folds. When you look down, your jaw falls at the sight of his huge throbbing cock stroking against your cunt back and forth, its dark pink skin already glistening with your juices dropping through your drenched underwear.

"So wet…" he croons, nestling his face in the crook of your neck. His moist nose brushes against your boiling hot skin, giving you chills. "So wet for me."

He keeps moving against you, maddeningly slowly, making you quiver with both pleasure and desperation. Breathy whimpers and moans fall from your parted lips, mirroring the rhythm of his thrusts.

"A-Alexis… please…"

You’re begging him to fuck you. He knows that. It's so obvious. It pleases him greatly, yet he won't let your precious little cries deter him from his own plans. His movements almost come to a halt as his warm, wet tongue slides out of his mouth and licks the side of your neck.

“You’ve driven me mad for months.” he growls in your ear, frustration once more edging his tone. His hands eagerly reach for your thighs and push them together to squeeze his cock between your soft flesh. You moan in response, surprised and satisfied by the additional friction, although still frustrated by the emptiness you feel inside you, with your walls clenching desperately around nothing. 

“Now it’s my turn.”

A jolt of pleasure strikes your core as his arms wrap around your middle and he starts to buck his hips against your ass at a punishing pace, rocking your whole body with such force that you’d be slamming against the desk if he wasn’t holding onto you like a vice.

You whine and mewl ever louder, the knot in your lower belly tightening at an alarming rate. Your hands grasp onto his strong arms, fingers tangling in his fur, while your head bobs feverishly upon his shoulder.

“A-Alexis… I-I'm- I’m!”

His moist nose taps on your neck, tongue lapping at your skin, as his cock keeps on bullying your poor swollen folds. The fabric of your underwear is so wet at this point that it's almost as if it's not even there; you can feel him entirely, rubbing your small bundle of nerves with every thrust.

"Already?" His laughter vibrates through your writhing body, heightening the friction between your thighs.

You try to hold back, a little offended by his derision, wanting to last a bit longer, but with a harsh yank of his hand, he pulls your panties to the side and finally seals your fate. Tendrils of pleasure ignite from your core, sending you spasming sharply in his grasp,your cunt gushing cum on his length.

He growls in your ear, tightening his hold and lifting you off the ground while chasing his own high. Feeling you contort in ecstasy and soak his cock has excited him viscerally, and it's only a matter of minutes until he follows you, shooting his sperm into your panties and mixing his juices with your own. You're both left panting, breathless, and light-headed, your bodies buzzing with the last shreds of bliss.

Alexis adjusts your underwear, cupping your cunt to ensure you feel his cum smear across your tender flesh. You whimper lazily in response, turning your head to glance up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. He meets your gaze with his own glazed look and smiles, that wolfish smile that inspired oh so many stories.

You need more. You want him. You want to feel him inside you. This was not enough. Not enough to satisfy months and months worthy of fantasies and soaking panties.

As if sensing the need within you, Alexis raises his hand to your hair and caresses it with newfound affection.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll give you plenty to write about..." he teases and grins at the way your eyes seem to lighten up at his words, only to see your face fall a second later as he adds: "In due time."

He gives you a playful smack on the ass and then walks out of your room, snickering.

"Whatcha having for dinner?

🪷. You can leave me a tip on ko-fi if you want to support me

[toomiieimagiines]

hihihi

uhm so am i allowed to request again (i don’t wanna spam) 😭😭🙏

and if i am can u pls do a rui x hopeless romantic best friend reader (i’m totally normal about best friends to lovers lmfao)

so like the reader is always yapping about hot guys and it’s a little angsty at first because rui is thinking to himself ‘why did i have to fall inlove with someone that won’t ever choose me’ and then one day a hot guy comes up to reader and asks her out, reader is about to say yes but then she realises that she barely knew him and there was someone (rui) who had been by her side since day one and she figures out who she really loves (RUIII) so she rejects him and when rui asks why she just hugs him and says ‘because your the one i really want’ mwah mwah i feel like such a genius (i really hope this made sense lmao be prepared for a million bestie-> lovers and angst-> fluff rui requests 😼)

thank youyoyoyoyoyuuu!!

hi guys! i’m so so incredibly sorry for how inactive i have been! unfortunately, the fanfic writer curse caught up to me, and i’ve had considerably bad things happen to me! ToT

i had developed a really bad addiction after a recent episode - which may be why i’ve loved to write my characters so miserable, but they get a happy ending in the end - and have recently relapsed after a couple months. i’ve also been struggling with a lot of things, like being bullied again, pressure from theater, classes, autism, parental issues, memory of past trauma, having no friends, things like that. i’ve just been having a really hard time, so writing has been super difficult for me. i’m currently having some of the worst mental health in my life, and am un-recovering from other things i’ve had in the past too, after seeing the results of my recovery. sorry if this triggered anybody, i just needed to get this off my chest, and felt also that i should explain where i have been. you all supporting me has kept me going, and i hope you enjoy this one too! LETS END THE PITY PARTY!!!

in other - not so depressing news - here you guys go!! sorry for OOCness, obviously this is a more dramatic approach to a story! happy ending, j tried to write the inner narration differently for how you two were feeling at the time.. and ty once again for such a great idea, mama ^3^

“I don’t think I could stand to be where you don’t see me.”

If he has to sit here and listen to this one more time, he thinks he’ll go insane.

Rui Kamishiro loves you. He truly does. You’re his best friend, his partner in crime, his-

Never mind.

Rui loves you, but he absolutely HATES your taste in guys, and it’s driving him nuts. Nodding and agreeing can only get him so far before he wants to rip his own hair out, and tonight is no exception.

“I give up! All boys are dumb, I don’t need them!” You lament, resting your chin in your hands. It’s the same song and dance over and over. You swear off boys, you get attention, you get sucked in, and he has to pick up the pieces when it inevitably fails. How many times has he thought about how much better he would treat you now? He doesn’t know. He’d be a classical lover, he’d never speak to you the way those stupid unprincipled high school boys do.

Gross. That’s his best friend, why’d he think that? And when did he start being so self confident? He really outta look at himself in the mirror. What an egomaniac he’s turning out to be.

He shakes his head.

“You do know I’m still a boy, right?” He prods, trying to cheer you up. He knows this situation well, and he knows exactly how to make you feel better. Again he’d pull you out of this, and again he’d watch you fall in love.

He wishes you could be happy. He wishes you weren’t in love with being in love. You’re too pure for true love, love is disgusting, depraved, and unkind. You’re not anything like that.

“I know, I know, but you’re the only good one!” You point, words self-assured. “I don’t need a boyfriend, you do everything boyfriendy for me anyway!”

Ouch. Thanks a lot, that’s exactly what he needed to hear right now. He’s not gonna dwell on that last bit for now, he’ll wait until he’s home. Then he can- he doesn’t know. Cry, or something juvenile like that.

“So I’m back-up-boyfriend?” He masks himself in jest, smiling teasingly at you.

“Eh, maybe,” you snicker, “you’d definitely be cute if you weren’t my friend.”

He turns to his school work sharply, trying to mask his complete and utter despair. Ugh, why does he have to be so dramatic? His own personality makes his skin crawl with disgust and hatred, and that only makes him cringe more. He could think about how obnoxious he is all day. Maybe he should use that go home and cry pass early. He pretends to check the time, as if that isn’t all he’s been doing.

“It’s getting late, after this problem I should get going.” He mutters, scribbling some random numbers into his notebook. You yawn in response, being broken out of absentmindedly scrolling through your phone.

“Ugh, I wish you didn’t have to go!” You drape an arm over his torso, trying to hold him in. He smiles fondly, wrestling to get you off of him.

“I’d have to walk home in the dark then, do you want that?” He knows you’d never let him, and he sees it immediately.

Your face looks knowing, and you let him go right away. It amuses him at first, but quickly fills him with overwhelming pity. You’re so kindhearted it makes him sick. You shouldn’t worry about someone like him, it’s bad for your health.

“Would you like me to walk home with you?!” You shoot up, the idea of him not being safe running through your head. Maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut. How emasculating! He’s not a helpless young girl! He’s just as manly as those boys who you long for, he’s not a puppy to be walked!

God, is jealously turning him into a bigot? He shakes his head once again, this time not just to clear his thoughts. He’s absolutely not letting you walk him home, it’d be mortifying. He takes your attention belly up, you should have a break. Maybe some time to yourself for a change? God, Rui, get a grip.

“I’m fine, I don’t want you out late by yourself either,” he assures, looking at you in haste.

“Ah. You have a point.”

“I always do.” He means more to that, and he wishes he could tell you. He wants you to see that even he knows what he’s talking about. He needs you to see him, just for once. Not as a best friend, or backup boyfriend, just as a regular one. As a lover who dances in the rain, or ties your shoes

He needs to stop. He shouldn’t think about you like that. It’s lecherous.

You two exchange goodbyes, giving him a long hug (much to his horror). He hates how feverish it is it hold you like this, it makes him feel guilty. His body gets hot, his cheeks flare up, his throat feels tight- it makes him feel like a pervert, even if his thoughts are the farthest thing from lewd.

He feels that everything he thinks about you is repulsive, though.

“Be safe”’s and “See you later”’s are passed between you two, and he walks down your front steps, now completely alone. His eyes scan the damp pavement, seeing the golden hues from the sky light the boring rock. That’s how he feels about you, he decides. You’re the sun, and he’s the pavement. He humors himself by thinking that your suitors are the clouds, stopping you from shining your light for him so he can grow weeds in the cracks of his soul. That’s what these feelings are. Weeds.

He wants to live life beautifully with you, he decides. He wants to tie your shoes, he wants to twirl you as you dance.

He wishes he could be the moon. Something of consequence- of importance, but he’s just the pavement. Not the earth, not the stars, not the clouds, or rain, he’s just a man made monster who destroys nature - you - and is walked over by people who do matter.

He should quit being this way, he grumbles, it doesn’t do anybody any good to be so flowery. He’s too girly- too weak. Maybe that’s why you don’t like him. If you’re willing to date anything that moves other than him, that must mean he’s on a completely new level, huh?

That’s what dreaming gets you, Rui. Crushed dreams and embarrassment.

He lets out a pitiful sigh, kicking a pebble with his shoe. He sees a worm in a lawn which reminds him of himself, he sees a couple shopping for a new game which reminds him of you, he sees a convenience store which reminds him that he’s hungry-

His life can be so mundane sometimes, what a drag.

He’s about to reach his front door, when he steps into a puddle. It feels like an appropriate representation of his life right now. A sense of disgraceful hilarity washes over him, and he begins to laugh. He laughs a while, he laughs as he takes his shoes off, he laughs as he peels his button up down, and he laughs as he lays in his bed. How dramatic he could be some times!

He falls asleep quickly. He has a dream about being on stage and forgetting his lines.

He wakes up with a thud, he fell out of bed. How embarrassing. He decides to check his phone.

Weirdo: RUII

Weirdo: wanna hang w me 2day?? u don’t have dance time right??

Weirdo: gonna kill you. WAKE UP

Me: I’m awake, sorry!

Weirdo: finally sleeping beauty

Weirdo: wanna get a snack? i’m simply starved…

Me: When?

Weirdo: an hr maybe…

Me: Okay :) I’ll tell you when I leave.

Weirdo: kay!!

He really doesn’t feel like being social today, but he’d never pass up an opportunity to see you. He’s an obscene degenerate when it comes to you, pouncing on your attention like a sick dog. It’s mortifyingly pathetic.

He gets dressed, throwing on a boring striped sweater. It’s getting colder outside recently, and he’s always ran cold anyway. His hands are shaky and nervous as he brushes his teeth, the anxiousness to see you making his body jittery. He considers breakfast, but quickly shuts the idea down. He doesn’t want to be stressed out - at least more than he already is - when he sees you. Twitchy hands lock his door, and he gets a few feet away before he double checks that he did, in fact, lock it. Pull yourself together, Rui! He screams at himself.

The walk is just as unexciting as he expected, albeit a bit chilly. He’s feeling thankful for the sweater. The breeze runs its hands through his hair, and he’s reminded that winter is coming. He always liked Autumn flowers the best, hibiscus flowers are pretty too, he supposes. It’s nice to have the warmth of the sun soothing his cold hands during summer, for sure.

He trips over a rock on the way, and his pants get wet on the knees. Khaki blends into an ugly brown, and he sighs. How unlucky, would anything go right for him today?

Turns out it will, you look really good today.

You great him at the door, practically buzzing with eagerness. It makes him smile, knowing that you do, in fact, want to see him. Or at least are acting like it. You’re a good friend to him, he’s lucky to have you.

“Rui!” You hug him as a greeting, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. His heart soothes, eyes closing in relaxation. Problems feel obscure and distant when you two are like this, despite his reluctance last night. He can forget about corrupt feelings - or misguided love- and he can just be your best friend. Despite his apprehension to be cared for, he is flattered that you, at least, seem to like him.

“Hey.” He breaths you in, his voice soft. He hopes you don’t notice, it’s embarrassing.

“Hey!” You reply, pulling away. “Big things planned, Rui!”

“What big things?” He asks, amused. “Big things” for you were junk food and shopping.

“Big things! It’s a surprise!” You put your shoes on, and he can’t help but feel jealous as he watches your hands tie them dutifully. He sighs, stretching. He decides to make it a challenge to act normal the whole day. No weird thoughts are going to beguile his mind, he promises himself.

You lock your front door, twisting the knob to make sure that it did, in fact, lock. This fills him with a child-like sense of delight, maybe you two really were similar.

Nah, not possible. You’re too pure - too perfect. Ugh, Rui, no more stupid thoughts.

He watches you check the time, make a face at a nearby bird, and cover your cheeks with your hands. You suddenly perk up, wrapping your arms around him.

“Warm me up, will ya?” You scowl at the cool air, grip tightening. He gulps. It’s weird he reacts like this, considering you two have done things like this all the time. It’s normal, so why does he have to be such a creep? His arms wrap around yours, running his hands up and down to create heat.

“Should’ve worn a jacket,” he chides, “wouldn’t be cold, y’know?” His voice is so casual, like everything is totally fine. It is fine. Fine, fine, fine.

“Gotta look good. I’m on the hunt, obviously,” you joke. It isn’t funny to him, but he lets out a laugh.

“You’re hopeless.”

You two stop at a convenience store first, and you all but sprint to the drinks. He had this ritual down to a science. You grab two different color slushies, and he grabs whatever odd snack catches your collective stomachs eye today. Today the two of you decide to split a cookie, and walk to the counter. The cashier gives you a smirk, and he averts his eyes.

“This it?” The boy cocks his head, and you get the memo. You immediately jump on the opportunity.

“Mhm!” You wink, resting your chin in your hands while leaning against the counter. In all honestly, he wasn’t even that cute. At least, that’s what Rui kept telling himself.

“Don’t worry about it, than. I got you guys,” he waves you off. Score! You think, but he adds. “If I can get your number.” Rui feels like falling into the floor, how awkward! You just scribble it onto a stray receipt, winking.

“Thank you! You’re the sweetest!!” You singsong, skipping along with Rui following suite. You immediately burst into laughter, throwing a fake punch at Rui. “What a weirdo! Like I’d call him over what, 1000 yen?! I don’t even know him, yuck!”

So you did have some sense, he feels like letting out a sigh of relief. You hold your hands out.

“Which one do you want? I got your favorite!!” You look so proud, and he wants to laugh. His “favorite” isn’t actually his favorite, but he’d never tell you that.

The lie started one day in middle school, when the two of you suddenly had a weird craving for slushies. When you picked them out, you had gotten a red one and a blue one, and asked him what he wanted. While he really didn’t like red, he knew you liked blue, so he said red. Now for the past four years, you’ve always ended up getting him a red one, thinking it was his favorite. He’ll deal with it for you. Seeing your blue tongue stick out with brain freeze is better than any sugary drink anyway.

“Red, duh.” He scoffs playfully, taking a sip of it. The taste doesn’t really bother him all that much anymore. It reminds him of you.

You always let him divide the snacks, thinking he gives himself the bigger half. He never does, but he eats slower so you think he did. You skip along, enjoying it.

“Y’know, this isn’t bad. Wish they had the brownie, though. That never does us wrong.” God, don’t make him think of the ‘crack brownies’ - as you two call them. Those are great, and he likes them, so you never miss an opportunity to shove them down his throat.

“Don’t complain. Remember the egg roll incident?” He points, laughing at the memory. You two steer clear of that section now, having gotten sick.

“Ugh, I haven’t thought about that in a while! I’m never eating an egg roll again after that day! Ugh,” you gag.

Moments of silly memories like this make him feel like he’s known you forever. He can’t even remember a moment where he hasn’t loved you.

“Where’re we going now, commander?” He salutes, following the trail of sunshine you left behind.

“Where ever the wind blows us, kind sir!” You salute back, pushing him along. Your constant checks of your phone don’t go unnoticed by him, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“Who’re you texting? Don’t tell me it’s that guy.” He tries to sound casual, knocking his shoulder against yours playfully.

“‘M not a total idiot, I’ll have you know!” You huff, holding your phone to your chest. “It’s just somebody we went to school with a while back, ‘m seeing if I can pull the moves.”

“Do I know him?”

“Dunno, never saw you two talking, so maybe not. He was in my english class, remember, the only class we didn’t have together?”

“Ah.”

You two walk in silence, except for when he yanks you back from the collar so you don’t walk into oncoming traffic, which amuses you greatly. You two soon arrive at the small mall, and he tails you as you run with excitement. You two browse everything, constantly pointing out cute plushies, or interesting keychains.

“Rui, look! Look!” You shake him, pointing to the back of somebody’s head inconspicuously. “Wait don’t yet- Okay, now! He’s turning around! That’s the guy! What a coincidence we see him here, right? Do you recognize him?”

Ha. Yeah, he knows this guy. He definitely knows him. He’s the one who would trip him during passing periods, he’s the one who left flowers on his desk. They make eye contact, and it’s like all of his growth left his body. He’s just the same freak from middle school, he’s still thirteen.

He shudders at the guys smirk, sensing that he definitely knows that Rui knows him. He jogs over to the two of you, and Rui already knows what’s about to happen, due to the lopsided smile on your face.

Damnit, this is the first time he doesn’t think he can act like it’s okay.

“Oh wow, what a coincidence! Must be fate we run into each other like this, ehe…” You giggle awkwardly, a dumb expression gracing your face. It’s painful seeing you that way for anybody other than him, and he looks away awkwardly.

“Must be.” He answers, swaggering closer towards you. Rui thanks whatever God above because - despite his current situation - at least this asshole didn’t go to highschool with you guys.

He looks down at his shoes, and tries to shuffle away, knowing this jackass is about to say something. He’s quickly stopped.

“Who’s this, huh? Feel like a recognize him from somewhere…” He trails off, smirking through his nose as he turns his attention to him. “Have we met before?”

“This is Kamishiro Rui, he’s my friend! He went to middle school with us, remember?” You happily answer for him.

Ha, friend? What happened to back-up boyfriend? He’s a little hurt, to be honest.

He feels bitter, it’s unbecoming- God, he doesn’t care. He should feel bad for getting so angry over it, it’s not like you belong to him. He’s such a freak, getting attached to you like this.

He starts to pick at his fingers, then he plays with a loose string on his sweater. You two continue to chat like nothings wrong, and he keeps thinking. It’s something he’s gotten good at recently.

He stops feeling bad about himself for a second- a split second where he resents you, and wishes his pain upon you. Wants you to know what it’s like to be so disgustingly, guiltily, revoltingly obsessed with someone. In this split second, he can’t even find it in himself to feel guilty about it, which is unlike him. He wishes you felt love like this, that you were as psychotic about it.

But this doesn’t last long, because he remembers that he loves you more than anything. He’s lucky to be your friend. You’re a great friend, you’re an amazing person, you’re the sun, the sun, the sun.

He’s the pavement, he has to remember.

“I’m- I’ll leave you to it, y’know? Fabric store.” He stutters, choking on his voice. You don’t even notice, waving him off.

You do, however, remember to press his shoulder, uttering an absentminded “Okay, Rui, bye,” and he remembers again how perfect you are for doing it subconsciously. He lets himself feel the touch, long after he’s walked away. He deserves it after the trouble he’s reliving.

When he makes it to the fabric store - which he really didn’t need anything from, Nene had gotten some the other day - he can’t help himself from wishing he could just go home. Malls were always overwhelming already, and now his saving grace has the attention of another man. He walks through aisles, but realizes that he now has to buy something.

‘Least he knows that social cue, he laughs bitterly, running his hands across his face in frustration. He’s so ridiculous.

Meanwhile, you were chatting up a storm. It was your first time talking in person since middle school, after all! You feel giddy for a while, but it cuts abruptly. You feel a strange sense of urgency, something’s missing.

Oh, your best friend.

But where had he gone? You’re sure he was just here. You smile apologetically at the cute boy, putting on your best performance.

“Oh, I better go get my friend now. I don’t like walking home when it’s late. Was nice seein’ you, let’s hang out soon, ‘kay?” You singsong, stepping closer. You want to give yourself a pat on the back, you’re so cute.

He rolls his eyes, and you’re hit with a wave of uneasiness. That noise he made sounds strangely dismissive, he’s not the kind of guy to be a jerk though, you must be hearing things-

“Leave ‘im. Between you and me, he was a total freak in middle school. Probably is now, too. Probably likes you or somethin’, total nutcase.” His voice sounds so casual, like it’s not the douchiest thing you’ve heard all day.

You let other men walk all over you, sure. You let them cheat on you, lie, whatever. But you’re not about to stand here and insult Rui. He’s the only untouched thing in your life - the only person who isn’t cruel. He’s so gangly and awkward, but in the best way. You could live a million times and not be able to deserve him, at least you think so. He’s so unusual, and that’s what you love most about him. Little things like not liking loud lights, or liking the red slushies the best, make your heart buzzy with familiarity. He’s the one constant in your life.

You’ve been awfully worried about him recently, though. His particularly (as you like to call it) has gone to the an extreme, and it’s been a battle getting him to eat real food. You’re not blind, you see the way he’s been spacing out, or tapping a little too much. You just thought he’d been overwhelmed. He worries you to death sometimes, but despite all of his own struggles, he always seems to not care about it, deciding to always be there for you instead. Ah, he’s just such an amazing guy - no, not guy, he’s not anything like those other boys you talk to. He’d never insult someone like that. He’s not just a guy, he’s like your person.

Yeah, he’s definitely your person.

Your heart sputters at the thought, and you feel something you’ve never really felt before - save for hugs between the two of you that lasted just a second too long, or words a little too romantic. The feeling makes your mind fuzzy, and your heart hurt terribly with something you could only place as homesickness.

Oh.

“I,” you begin, backing away. “Yeah, I’m sorry but I’ll really be going now-“

“What? C’mon I was just messing with you, even though having guy friend’s kinda weird.” He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah whatever, I’ll call you back,” you say dismissively.

You’re totally lying, you laugh, you’re not calling him back.

He didn’t seem to like that.

“Damn, can’t even joke around with you people. Whatever, weirdo, sorry I insulted your little boyfriend.” The change in tone amuses you.

Yeah, good riddance, pal.

You turn away, walking through the mall with pace. It takes a while, but you spot him watching a pet stores aquarium.

He’s a funny one.

You wave your hands, trying to get his attention. He swallows, knowing that it’s probably to ask him if it’s cool to walk home by himself. Emotions are stupid, and ironically, you both think that at the same time.

“Rui! Rui! Hey c’mon, let’s go home, yeah?” You smile, face feeling warm. It’s a different feeling from when you usually talk to him. He looks at you, a little shocked. He had assumed you were smiling wide because you set up a date, so he turns his head.

“Where is he, huh?” He looks away, back to the fish tank. You shift in place, was he mad at you? You’re a little irritated at the mention of the guy, though, and huff.

“Don’t worry about that. Seems like I only attract douchebags, so I decided to go.” You explain, poking his shoulder. “Hey,” you start, “let’s just walk home, I wanna talk to you about something.” The idea makes you feel dizzy, but you’ll have to illustrate your feelings one day.

You can leave out the “I think I’m in love with you” part, you think.

The two of you walk in an excruciating silence, staring down at the reflection of the setting sun in the puddles. His heart tightens, remembering his earlier comparison. Even now, you’re so perfect. Even if he’s frustrated with you - despite you turning down the guy in the end (he doesn’t know why, he wanted to ask) - even if he’s ready to scream, and cry, and ask you what it is he did for you to be so turned off by him, he still thinks you’re the most heavenly, divine person to ever grace his view. He wants to be where you see him, he wants to be in your orbit.

“You’re like the sun-“ He blurts out, immediately regretting it. He didn’t mean to say that, God, he’s so fucking stupid. He sees you stop walking, smiling that same stupid, dopey, lopsided smile that he’s always so jealous of-

Oh. It’s for him.

He chokes, stopping to meet you eye-to-eye. You look up at him too, laughing giddily.

“What does that mean?”

He sputters, stepping away. “N-no it’s nothing- It was stupid anyway so-“

“No, tell me!” You urge, laughing a little harder. “What if it was something bad, ‘nd you were making fun of me? That’s not nice, Rui!”

“I- Hey-“ His voice goes a touch higher, a defensive tone rising. “That’s not-“

“Then tell me.”

“It’s just,” he breaths, trying to word it in the least creepy way possible. How does convey the fact that he sees you as a divine presence, that he sees himself as a worthless creature compared to you, without sounding like he’s hopelessly possessed by love for you? “I just- you’re so amazing,” he starts, “I thought of this stupid thing the other day when I was walking home - you know how I am - and well, I just thought of you when the sun reflected off the pavement - since it rained, y’know? - and well, it just- Sorry, it was dumb-“ He rambles, covering his face in anguish.

Nobody’s ever put that much thought into you. Sure, you’ve received a few ‘You’re so gorgeous’’s, where you’ve had to wonder where they learnt such a “big word”, but never something as poetic as that. The usual Rui-ratic explanation endeared you to him even more. You look at him, the smile never leaving. He’s just… so Rui. His stupid striped sweater, his half up hair - that you’d begged him to grow out - his eyes, whatever. Everything about him you treasure, and little do you know he cherished you even that more intensely.

“I think you’re the moon, Rui. Or maybe the earth, since I take care of you, hah!” You snicker, stepping closer to him. He takes a step back in return, and you grab his hands to make him stay put. His heart throbs, and he almost goes crashing down.

“I.. I don’t-“

You yank his hands, making him look back up at you. “Hey, Rui, I,” you look at him assuringly, “I wanna say something, and you can’t laugh okay?”

He holds his breath, so do you.

Fuck it, just tell him.

“I think I’m in love with you, Rui.” You gaze at him, the words shooting out faster than you can second guess them.

“I don’t-“ He breaks away, his fists balling up. You messed up, you think, you really, really messed up. “I’m not- I’m not going to- You can’t just say that because you got rejected. I- It wouldn’t be nice to- You don’t love me-“

“Rui,” you beg, grabbing his arm again, “holding hands on the way to school, cuddling while doing homework, knowing everything about eachother, these aren’t-“ You breath, “I’ve wanted somebody to love me for so long, Rui, and I was so blind to the fact that I was loved. But the love that I felt for you, - that I feel for you - Rui, isn’t the kind where I can be- where I can just be so- so normal about those things!” You monologue, saying whatever’s on your mind. You’re the rambling one now.

“I found myself comparing you to these piece-of-garbage dude’s I’m always with, wishing I could just date somebody like you instead! But now I realize that it is you-“

His heart falls into his gut, and he breaks free from you again. His hands move to his face, covering his eyes. His voice is broken and cracky as he begins to cry. “That was- you-“ He pulls you into a desperate embrace, arms holding you like you’ll disappear. “You shouldn’t, you’re wrong.” He sobs, “I’m- the way I love you is- You don’t understand, the way I feel isn’t normal I- My love is disgusting, and horrible, and depraved-“ He shakes, you rub his back. “You are so perfect compared to me, I’d never be able to- I love you so much, more than friends are supposed to, more than anyone’s supposed to at our age-“

“Rui, hey Rui please don’t cry.” You beg, smoothing out the ridges in his sweater. “I don’t- I don’t agree with that, and I can scream that at you, but I’m sure you won’t believe me. You’re not disgusting for feeling emotions different, Rui that’s what I love about you.”

“Stop- stop saying my name like that. It’s too hard to-“

“Rui, I love you. You don’t need to accept it, but I love you. More than being in love, more than being loved-“

“I love you, too,” his voice cracks, “that’s why I’m so scared. I don’t want to ruin a friendship that’s all I have, if this is just- I’m scared I’d lose you in any way, and I can’t live in a world where you don’t see me. I won’t. It’s sounds horrible but-“ He stops as you pull away from the hug, and wipes his face hastily. You put your pinky out, and his stomach drops again.

“C’mon, just like when we were kids. Pinky promise that no matter what, we’ll always see each other. That way you don’t need to worry anymore, y’know? I never break my kissy pinky promises, ever.”

Just like when you two were little.

He locks his with yours, just like you taught him all those years ago. He remembers your shared handshake for theater, he remembers your shared handshake for testing, and he remembers the song you two had to duet for choir - when you have forced him into it for a year. He holds everything of you so dear to his heart, you endear everything about him to you as well.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I see you.”

“I see you, too.”

You two kiss your hands, then bring them down, still interlinked. You stare at him, and he stares back at you. In a moment of profound sincerity, you lean forward, and kiss him. It’s slow and gentle, and you unlock your hands half way through to hold his face, which he mirrors. His heart settles for the first time. You see him. He’s your moon, your earth, you’re his sun, his stars.

He’s suddenly alarmed by a quick pushing off of him, gasping out a “Rui!”

“I-“ he pants, wiping his mouth. “Hm?”

“we’re in the middle of a park!”

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 5 | Whispers Of Madness

summary: ever since one unfortunate day, you havent felt the same mentally. The dark entity that now permanently stabled a special place in your mind, making you go more insane with each passing minute. Whenever you try to reach out for help to the one person you trust, being your best friend matthew he always argues that nothing is actually there and your brain is messing with you but you know more than youve lead onto. Are you going to finally shatter and possibly lead to murder, or maybe finally banish the evil living inside of you?

warnings: ANGST, demon possession, dark entity, murders, mental health issues, satanic language, dark topics, suicide, police involvement, heavy language, blood everywhere, choking, skin bruising, mysterious black goop, viewers advisory is supervised! Proceed continue reading caution!

authors note: somehow we’ve made it to day 5 of consistently posting fics wohoo !! This one took me a portion of my time and this week has been pretty busy for me so I’m surprised I got this far, hope yall enjoy this bc I surely did writing it

no nut november | masterlist | guestlist

Ever since that unfortunate night, I have never felt the same mentally nor physically. A constant demonic voice mocking my every move and slowly driving me towards insanity, flashes of a dark entity remain stuck and impossible to get out of my mind, making me want gouge my eyes out to escape through death. Sometimes i dont even recognize myself in the mirror, just noticing each and every one of the changes in my physical apperance as well as my behavior and I think if others noticed them too or do am I the old me to them? or have I never actually changed and my mind can somehow create physical forms of different versions of me on its own?

- The night of the incident

I slowly stirr awake in the middle of the night due to strange noises my ears keep picking up, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand I glance out the window to see nothing but pitch-black ahead of me. The soft moonlight being the only available source of light pouring into the room, my eyes scan the dark room for a possible source behind the strange noises. Its almost like whispering but not human whispers in particular, almost like a demonic voice... yeah no, demons dont exist so there no such possibility. Just to be sure Im not going completely insane I do a double check but now looking harder into the dark to try and justify the source of the noise is nothing harmless.

Thats until I see something dark looming in the corner of my room.

It appears to be a shadow but with a dark and demonic energy radiating off it, my eyes scan the whole silhouette and get stuck on a pair of brigh red eyes staring down at me becomes imprinted in my mind permanently which sends a cold chill down my whole body, making me rise in awareness and fear, my body immediately waking and becoming completely stiff, my abilty to move vanishing from my grasp of control. The dark shadow figure starts to step closer to me and my instincts kick in, subconsciously backing away from the proximity of the red-eyed creature as it stands at the foot of it. "W-who are you?" I shakingly breath out, my mind becoming consumed with fear and theories that this could possibly be the end of my life.

The red-eyed figure doesnt make a sound or a single move, my breathing now labored and heavy as it continues to stare down at my shaking form. Feeling completely vulnarble and defendless, it’s like theres no escape and I've been trapped, even cornered in the dark depths of my mind. "Agite... Tenebrae... Abyssi..." I hear a faint demonic whisper, identical to the ones I've heard before and realize where its coming from. Suddenly I get a shock down my whole body, almost as if a feeling of being possesed or something possibly entering my soul and attaching itself to it.

I convince my overthinking mind its nothing and Im just imagining things now, this is not real. Demons dont exist and they surely can't possess you, right? it cant be real, its not. Shaking my head to throw away any possible negative thoughts left behind and lay my head back down on my pillow, attempting to sleep of the demonic energy I still feel coursing through my veins. My mind manages to slowly drift off to sleep, my eye lids falling heavy as I slip into unconsciousness but the demonic whispers still remaining surrounding the shell of my ears.

- A month after the incident - Present day

A sudden snap of Matt’s fingers in front of my face kicks me out of the negative energy in my mind, him giving me an unamused expression and sighing. “You seriously weren’t paying attention again?” He annoyingly huffs, his lips becoming a thin line as his arms cross over his chest. “I’m sorry, I was just-“ while I am in the middle of my sentence and want to explain myself, the demonic whispers cut me off and start whispering in my ear until I look around and see him. The red-eyes creature. No matter how hard I want to take my eyes away from him, they just refuse to move alongside with my body. Just becoming frozen all of a sudden, “What? Are you good?” He stammered visibly shadowed with concern, his eyes darting around the room to find the spot my eyes are stuck on but is met with a simple empty room.

“What are you staring at?” He pondered, still in desperate search to find something I could possibly be staring at with such horror contouring my features. My breath starts to become more deep and shaky, the same feeling I felt coursing through my veins every time it appears, it’s almost like it’s making its appearance known before hand. Matt finally snaps me back to reality, jerking one of my shoulders to give him a response to his worried questions, when I look at Matt’s face and back where it was standing. It’s gone. It’s not there anymore. “Where did it go?” I mumbled with a trembling bottom lip, becoming tense and more aware of my surroundings. “What do you mean by ‘where did it go’ ? You’re fucking freaking me out Eli.” He inquired, still anxiously looking around before moving closer to me. Immediately noticing me tense up for some reason he doesn’t have the knowledge of and I just wouldn’t speak about it.

“It’s fucking not there anymore! It’s gone, again!” I clutch Matt’s arm into my chest, seeking any comfort and safeness I could get a grasp on. The whispers start again, this time approaching me closer until I feel a faint icy breath breathe down my neck which makes me flinch. “ǨḐlēʃ-tū yǫur crēāṭōr, ǝLizaʊƃth…” my hands immediately go to cover my ears, the satanic words echoing in my head and bouncing off every wall, almost delivering me a headache. Under my breath I keep begging it to stop, to release me from the hellish cage it’s trapped me in against my will just to torment and demolish all that’s left of my soul that it hasn’t destroyed yet. My mental health wasnt the best before and it just got worse after, I reached out for help to everyone I could but they either called me schizophrenic or ‘completely gone off the rockers’ by professionals, refusing to help me and ignore the actual issue.

“Is it this again? Seriously Eli, you have to stop scaring me like that!” He argues, becoming slightly annoyed. No matter how much I tell him about this mister lurking in the shadows, he just says ‘you need to get some professional help or go to a psychiatrist’ but when I tell him the stories regarding the ‘getting professional help’ that they ignore me and don’t believe demons actually have a possibility of existing. “You didn’t believe in this demon shit and always denied it, why do you suddenly act like you got possessed by a damn demon or something?” In that moment it hits me, the realization and theory of being actually possessed by a demon hits my head and if we’re an object I would possibly get a concussion.

“I’m not! It’s just that… oh, forget it. It’s gone now so it doesn’t matter.” I state, taking a deep breath to wash away all of the emotions I’ve been feeling at once in a single moment. It’s shocking how much my body can take and has taken ever since it appeared in my life, or does it? Maybe my mind likes to think and make it seem like I’m doing good but in reality I’m loosing my mind completely? When is it going to end? How do I make it end? Questions rise in my head as I start to overthink and get my anxiety to an impossible level. “Eli, what the fuck has been happening with you? You seem completely psychotic like those possessed girls in horror movies.”

“I-I don’t know what I am at this point, please just go home and stay safe. I’ve scared you enough already I don’t want to give you a heart attack” I breathe out, gesturing for him to go away as I my ears perk up with the demonic soft whispers coming back, the dark figure standing right in front of me. I immediately cover my ears as the whispers get louder and louder, suddenly I feel a pair of cold hands wrap around my neck and pure force starting to pull me upwards into the air. I become short on breath as Matt freaks out and quickly runs over to my body in the air, now being face to face with the black figure. My arms immediately attempt to remove the arms off my neck for more air but it only tightens its grip, Matt pulls at my feet but it’s not much affective. The red gloomy eyes staring into my soul and twisting my insides with the dark energy possessing my body.

The world around me becomes silent and I can’t hear whats happening around me. “Ǩo ǃàdêr ȯf Ḑoom, ʔou Ƀhall kjømbāť ʔo ʃiln Ǫne ȯf ḏhe ʔeḥples ȯf Ꮑȯvær lǟv or ʔe ťæpt ǝn ḟi ʃhyād ǷārtǤ, ȯy ʗhǯice ElizǞbeth. ȶime Ƀ is spiraling ȯut…” the sentence constantly keeps being repeated until my ears start to bleed but I don’t feel blood coming out of my ears, some kind of cold black goop starts to escape through my ears as I finally get released. Falling back onto the ground with a loud thud and coughing hysterically, the pain and bruises spreading across my body as well as deep purple marks saturate my neck. I feel this sudden urge, something driving me up to my breaking point, willing to do anything to escape this hell.

Matthew quickly runs over to me, examining my body and the bruises left as horror and concern fill his features. “A-are you okay? Are you bleeding anywhere?- oh fuck!” He stammered, noticing the mysterious black goop coming out of my ears. His eyes were so focused on my body he didn’t notice it at first, seeking as if he couldn’t handle all of this happening at once and neither was I but he was scared out of his mind when I was left with no emotions in my face. My mind backtracks to the demonic words spoken to me and somehow I feel I know what to do, I don’t feel like myself anymore. It’s like I’m some kind of puppet in a show being controlled on how I’m supposed to act, I pick myself up and walk towards the kitchen while ignoring the concerned questions falling from Matt’s mouth.

I can’t believe I’m actually doing this but I can’t live like this anymore, he follows behind me and into the kitchen. My body starts to almost move on its own as if someone else had full control over it, reaching into the drawer where all of my knifes are kept and pick up the sharpest blade I own. Rising it into the air and turning to face Matthew, his anxiety immediately spikes to ungodly levels as he puts his now trembling hands. “What are you doing with that? Elizabeth, put it down!” Desperate demands leave his mouth in attempt to make me out down the possible weapon in my possession but I don’t listen, as much as I don’t want to do it, I might be my only way of escaping.

I charge at Matthew and stab him in the chest multiple times as hysteric cries leave my mouth while he screams bloody. His blood squirts all over my clothes and stain them, he falls to the ground and quickly I jump on top of him to weight him down and deliver a stab to immobile his arms, more blood covers our clothes, faces and the floor all together as I continue to cry out apologizes and explanations. “I’m sorry… I have to do this, I’m so sorry, Matt I’m sorry but I have to…” I cry out as blood and tears run my cheeks, to end the miserable pain he is experiencing I swing high into the air, gripping the handle of the bloody knife with both of my hands before apologizing for the last time and plunge the knife through his head which kills him in an instant.

My hands finally detach from the knife and immediately go up to my face, wiping off the blood and pouring tears from my face. Loud sobs fall from my mouth at what I have done, I just killed my best friend. Out of pure cold blood I killed my best friend, I-I’m a monster, a psychopath and everything fucked up. I am the demon… the demonic figure whispers another sentence in the weird language it has been using ever since trying to communicate to me but now it sounds more evil, like curses stuck to my name by the black shadow and following me around anywhere I go. “Ǫne lǻst stȅp ǵhǵn ɓe dǿne, ȵaM Ƀǿ̃e ȅt Ƀe ǵhǵe ȶǿ Ƿȯrld ȩfree, hāv ǵʍоḏ tɼȯ ḏon sǿlf ɴǿw. Ḕdǿn ḥesīṭȅte, ȅLīzǝbeth.”

The same feeling of knowledge runs down my spine, realizing what I’ll have to do next in order to be set free. My hands go back and take the knife out of Matthew’s dead body and line the sharp tip with where my heart lies, I close my eyes shut and with one swing I plunge the cold bloody knife into my heart. My body falling down next to Matthew’s already dead one, hearing the faint sirens of police in the distance as I slip into unconsciousness but by the time they make it to the kitchen, my body disappeared and only with the bloody knife left on the ground. It was evident two people have been killed in the process regarding the blood bath that was created but no matter how long or how hard they searched for my body, it was just gone. Almost as if a dark entity dragged it down with them to the deepest pits of hell…

Guestlist!

| - @sturnioloblues - @sturnsxplr-25 - @strnzzvsp - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @luvvs4chriss - @pussypie456 - @choclatestarfishwithahat - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknot - @strnilolover - @marrykisskilled - @phone4pills - @emely9274 - @cupiidk1lls - @lily-strnlo - @nicksgirlfriend - |

[danggirlronpa]

🔥 for worst girl junko enoshima?

NON-DESPAIR JUNKO WOULD ACT NOTHING LIKE CANON JUNKO. This drives me NUTS. The whole overarching theme of the Tragedy is that it is a huge extreme representation of emotional self harm, because Junko is depressed!! She can't Feel Anything unless she is actively hurting herself emotionally! And the nightmare cocktail of her mental health is such that she entertains so many levels of delusion as to believe it gives her a moral high ground!! The Tragedy occurs because the world failed Junko by not recognizing her issues or the help she needed.

Of course I love haha evil girl, it's fun and Danganronpa makes fun of itself all the time. But if you're really sitting down and considering a world where Junko isn't mired in despair, you HAVE to be considering a world where Junko is getting treatment. A hope!Junko is a Junko who probably takes a handful of meds every day and talks to a therapist twice a week. A hope!Junko is someone who is actively struggling to discard everything about who she has always been. In the same way Junko in despair is just an incredibly extreme metaphor for teenagers with mental health issues that lash out, a Junko with hope HAS to be a metaphor for the struggles of recovery. You simply cannot just copy and paste her as a zany little freak. She has to be a DIFFEFENT kind of zany little freak.

[welcomehomeincorrectquotes]

My version of the Rainbow Factory AU:

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

As a big fan of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic and the original Rainbow Factory songs and Grimdark fanfiction, I am intrigued with the concept of the Rainbow Factory!Wally AU.

The only issue I have is that I can't find any content for RF!Wally that has a story were Wally Darling feels like Wally Darling and where a Rainbow Factory would makes sense in the world of Welcome Home.

So I'm going to try doing it myself! Wish me luck...

This AU is subject to change with the more we learn about Welcome Home!

The AU starts off fairly normally, with the popular show Welcome Home getting cancelled for unknown reasons: this causes the neighbourhood to become vulnerable, and is attacked by the Void, which latches onto Home like a parasite, leeching off their lifeforce, causing the neighbourhood to decay and lose it's colour.

Due to his status as Home's resident and the main character of the show, Wally is the only other resident still conscious after the upheaval.

Home, now calling themself "Factory", tells Wally if he wants to save his friends and home, he will need invite ❄︎♒︎♏︎ ✌︎◆︎♎︎♓︎♏︎■︎♍︎♏︎ over to the neighbourhood and make them into "sacrifices". Wally doesn't understand what is going on or what the word "sacrifices" means, but trusts Home and follows their instructions.

He knows what "Sacrifices" means now.

Regardless, it works, and the Factory creates a beautiful rainbow that brings life and colour back into the neighbourhood.

Wally's beloved neighbours are a bit dazed, but otherwise completely fine. They don't even realise anything terrible happened.

Factory tells him that, unfortunately, this won't last forever; Wally must keep bringing in more sacrifices, keep making rainbows, otherwise the Neighbourhood will die.

Notes:

The Neighbours are blissfully unaware about what happens inside the Rainbow Factory, beyond that it makes rainbows (which drives Frank nuts because SCIENCE but whatever).

Working at the Factory has taken a monstrous toll on Wally's mental and physical health. He tries to act normal for his friends, but they've all noticed. They are all very worried him, especially Barnaby.

Factory is the Void, not Home.

Factory acts very manipulative and emotionally abusive towards Wally; peppering him with praise when following orders and cutting him off at the knees when he questions them.

Wally is psychically connected with Home, which lets Factory directly control the puppet at times.

What do you think? I'm open to any questions, suggestions and/or critiques and will make more if you're interested... eep...

[bright-and-burning]

extremely complicated breakup in the friend group and i just found out abt it a Week Later but omg i have to tell SOMEONE abt this bc it’s insane

like. S and J dated our sophomore and junior years when J and K were roommates. they were super codependent and never spent time w anyone else or alone, then bad breakup, mental health crisis involving hospital time, etc.

K and S start dating our senior year. J is deeply upset bc K and him were besties, roommates, like K witnessed everything go down, and he’s still going for S.

S has a job lined up in college town for after graduation, signs a lease and everything. K has a job lined up here in boston. S finds a job, breaks her lease and quits the old job, moves in with K (AND N AND R. two of our other friends from college). K and S are super codependent (i think i’ve seen this one beforeeee) but even worse bc they live together. every minute they aren’t at their respective jobs they are together. they do the same rec league sports, they cook together, they do all their hobbies together, and then at the end of the night they get in bed together. and when i say All Their Hobbies i mean ALL. and this i know for a fact bc i slept on their couch for three weeks.

they (K and S and N and R) just signed a lease renewal Last Month. just found out from a friend who doesn’t live with them (D) that K and S broke up bc “K doesn’t see a future with her” (oh Lordt)

now K is sleeping on people’s couches while S figures out if she wants to move back in w her parents or What. AND K is trying to get in on housing w Literally All of Our Friends

like. D (guy) and A (girl) live together rn (everyone assumes they’re dating bc of it it’s kind of funny), and bc we all got jobs at separate times everyone else lives alone which is Expensive. so D, A, C, and M had this plan to find a place closer to the city/on a transit line (so i can actually visit them!!!), only now K AND MAYBE N ALSO WANT TO GET IN ON THIS. D does NOT want to live with K bc he’s got a reputation from college (idk how much he’s changed) of being a hella messy roommate while also being a control freak (ok the need to be in charge is still true. i can confirm that).

this is. messy. and literally last week i was like i could never live like S and K i would commit arson after a month it would drive me nuts. and D was like we called it lowkey bc every time marriage was brought up in a group convo (there’s a running joke that M refuses to be the first to get married, there’s like three long term couples in our friend group so when couples come to visit it comes up as a half joke half serious thing yk) K’d like . freeze up and go blank like no “oh that’s a ways down the road” or “haha yeah someday” or whatever, just like straight up panic. which is odd for him cuz he’s always got jokes yk?

so. yeah holy fuck bruh. this is the second time an S break up has had reverberating impact on our friend group 😭😭😭 J only JUST managed to be in the same room as her THIS YEAR (and HE LIVES LIKE FIFTEEN HOURS AWAY so it wasn’t that big of an issue after we graduated !!!) but now we have This and we all live in the same city!!!! to say nothing about. LEASES!!!

[mazzystar24]

hi its birthmark anon! weird lore from me i guess i dont mean to trauma dump because my dad is fine lmfao but i HATED that scene because of the “your dad is still alive” line. my dad had heart issues when i was a kid to the point he needed open heart surgery and i remember so clearly my aunt saying something similar to my mom in front of us when he was hospitalized. my mom said she couldnt make thanksgiving dinner because my dad was in the hospital and she had to take care of me and my 3 siblings who were all pretty young kids (i was 11 i think and my younger brother was 9. i remember thinking my dad was gonna die) and my aunt was like “at least you have a family”. we didnt see her for like 5 years after that lmfao

also the “you guys need your own hospital wing” line also frustrated me because i had my own health problems as a kid (im alright now) and people ALWAYS made those sorts of comments to me. i didnt even register the daddy shit until later and that only made the scene worse because while it felt like buck was trying to lighten the mood and make it something they have in common but tommy dismissed it AGAIN. like its not even about sexual jokes to me its about him being an asshole in every scene he’s in 😭

anyway thanks for the birthmark clownery i doubt kim will return but we had fun 🫶 this whole discourse is dumb because the scene just sucked. if they wanted me to believe tommy gave a single fuck they shouldve had him come to the hospital abd they should also address the role he played in the gerrard shit for hen and chimney because they HAVENT and it drives me NUTS

anyway love you bye

Hi birthmark anon!!

Dw Im always down for a good trauma dump like one of my friends and I legit never spoke to eachother before despite being in the same class for a year but only became friends because a cancelled class led to us trauma dumping to eachother for our first proper conversation for like 2 hrs

Omg can’t believe your aunt said that that’s actually so iffy, but yess exactly the “your dad is still alive” line was just so so bad and I hated it sm like idk if you saw my replies on my other post or not cos I put it in much more in depth way there but like I too am a traumatised girlie and if someone said that shit about my bio dad I would literally lose it cos it’s one of those things that get said so much to traumatised people and it’s honestly a big no from me

Like sure SOME traumatised people MAY regret not fixing it but also it might not be fixable and you don’t know the situation and also maybe they won’t either way that’s their prerogative

and sometimes what’s right for them at the time isn’t what’s right for them long term and all these things are fine

Like me personally if my dad dropped dead right now I would genuinely celebrate and feel not a single ounce of regret and that’s fine and id deck anyone who said it’s not

Like if Tommy has his own trauma and feelings about his dad and their relationship then that’s fine but this sort of imposed rhetoric on another traumatised person is just a no from me

The hospital wing line is another thing that I didn’t see mentioned but bucks face DID flip but that’s a whole other debate yeah

See that’s the thing like I know I have Tommy loving followers but I personally dislike him cos they haven’t gave him (imo) substance or like enough other than sardonic comments and shit

Rip our fun with the Kim and buck parallels you’ll always be famous🫡

But yeah like even if people liked Tommy and bucktommy I feel like they can blame the writing or execution or context but like overall not liking that scene it’s not just about hating Tommy or bucktommy imo

YES THEY COULDVE PLAYED IT SO DIFFERENTLY IF THEY WANTED TO DEVELOP TOMMY AND BUCKTOMMY AND IT DEEPLY CONFUSES ME WHY THEY HAVENT IF THEYRE CARRYING IT INTO S8

Anyways also love ya byee🫶🫶🫶🫶

[cookiesupplier]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns - Part Thirty-Seven

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc x Chris 'Motionless' Cerulli

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, online bullying, panic attacks, stalking, mental health issues.

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. For everyone involved.

author’s note: Unbeta'd, readers beware as always lol.

To read from the beginning, check out the Masterlist Here!

tags: @tearfallpixie @cncohshit @jordynyingling0219 @faceless-mirror @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @wild-child-7747 @witchyweeb34 @black-damask1999 @jilliemiw86 @ilovesamkiszka @lyschko666 @lacktoesandtoddlerants @bngurngheart @collapsedglasshouses @laurpartyprogram @sunsshinesunny @malerieee @talialovesmiw @shilohrosechicken @thatchickwiththecamera @tamtam-elizabeth

Tag List is Open, please let me know if you would like to be added to it or in general.

Chris had ended up having to leave his friend a message on his machine as he was out that morning, he hated doing that as it felt so impersonal, and never wanted to give details on those things. But, it was over really, he knew that he couldn’t always be in the office. The soulmate tattoo science division was a very difficult line of research to keep funded. Most of the people in the field he’d managed to make contact with, even if just marginally over the last few years, all said the same thing. They usually either were extremely lucky with multiple grants, had side jobs, alternate research, or their research into the soul connection was the alternate study. There were some on the outside that sat the soulmate research as a hobby, but he knew they were all so very passionate about it. Sadly, none of them could dedicate all of their time to it, as it just didn’t pay the bills.

That was something Chris could understand completely. He remembered the early years in the band, working what was essentially a day job just to make ends meet. Needing it to make sure he could pay rent, buy food, have the funds for equipment, getting to and from gigs, basically everything the band could possibly need. So yes, he knew what it was like to have a passion project that was worth an absolute pittance. Unfortunately for most of the scientists he’d talked to over the years, their projects in the soulmate research, wasn’t likely to suddenly boom anything nearly as massive as the band. Not with the known track record so far. Besides, he was reminded science wasn’t just about making money though, it was about the discovery and search of knowledge.

He was in need of some of that knowledge right now, and not just him, but also Ricky, and Talia. Living like this, was driving all of them a little nuts, he could tell they were all on edge. Poor Talia, that panic attack she’d had, she had spiralled so bad just at the thought of having to face those doctors again that had treated her so badly. If Chris had his way, he’d shut that whole place down, who the hell treated people that way. What harm, what proof, had her family presented, that could have suggested that any of that was remotely necessary, even then, the doctors should have evaluated her themselves. He couldn’t personally understand how Talia could have met the criteria. 

Just the same, once Chris had made the call, now it was just the waiting game, and checking the message board, cringing at the different takes of what others had of the illnesses that could be wrong with him. Oh yes, the imaginations of these people, they were coming up with everything under the sun that could be wrong with him, and somehow every single person, assumed he was dying. He supposed that happened when you were brought to that particular area of the message boards, it involved death to start with, so assuming death was involved, could be taken to heart. Chris would like to think he wasn’t dying though, he didn’t feel sick, no matter how much of a panic this was whirling around in him right now though, let's not think about that. 

It was about lunchtime that he was finally able to hear back from his friend, right when he was in the middle of making himself something to eat no less, isn’t that how it always goes? When you have been absolutely dying for someone to call you back about a vital topic, you wait around forever expecting their call, but it doesn’t come. When you finally give up and get up to do something else, boom, you are right in the middle of what you are doing, and they call. So he was in the middle of making himself a sandwich when his phone started ringing, and he had to drop everything, he wasn’t going to risk missing this call, not this of all things.

“Micah, hey, man, how are you going? How’s the wife? The kids?”

While Chris had never met Micah in person, they had had some very long and in-depth philosophical conversations about the soulmate bonds between people. Even about the bond stemming between Micah and his wife and how their relationship had been affected by it. Micah had met his wife long before they knew they were soulmates, much like Talia’s friends Kyle and Jordan. Chris had enjoyed hearing about such a bond evolving differently somewhere else to, how the tattoos were different and worked differently for everywhere. It was amazing how that happened. 

“They are doing well, and you, Chris, how is your work going?”

Chris never spoke openly about his work on the phone, not this number anyway, this was the office number. While there were other scientists that Chris knew on a strictly surface level, Micah he’d actually gotten to know a little more personally because the man had understood to some degree what Chris went through. He had switched to soulmate research when his brother had lost his soulmate while he was still a teenager, and the toll it had taken on him had been immense. Chris felt for those that lost so much hope at such a young age.

“It’s going well, on some downtime, which is even better. Though I’ve actually had some curious thoughts lately, one of my friends has been talking to me a lot about soulmate tattoos. I mean, we were talking about the different crazy theories and hypothetical situations out there.”

Chris knew it was a little unfair that he was telling his friend a bit of a white lie, but this wasn’t just about him, this was about Ricky and Talia too. He wasn’t going to put them in a position when they had to deal with a bunch of doctors if they didn’t want to. Ricky had said straight out yesterday, no tests, and Chris did not blame him, especially with how they were all connected, if just one of them got poked and prodded, who knows if they’d all feel it.

As expected, Chris heard a rustling of papers on the desk of the other end of the phone followed by a low chuckle, assuming that Micah was getting himself comfortable for this conversation now.

“Alright, Chris, you’ve got my attention, hit me with them.”

Bingo, he knew how to get Micah, he always liked to hear the latest theories that came about. Hearing them from people was always more interesting than trolling the message boards as Micah told him after all.

“Okay, now, I know that some of these just really got my head spinning, like there is apparently one that is about how the tattoos are actually random and work on hypnotic suggestion once they come in proximity to each other. There is another, that was taking about soulmate tattoos can sometimes change colour after a soulmate passes away, and become a whole new tattoo, which is completely ridiculous. Oh hell, then there was another one, oh, oh, get this Micah, oh you’ll get a kick out of this-”

Chris had a couple more insane ideas in his head to throw at him if need be, including tid bits of the way the soulmate bond that was affecting Talia and Ricky. The idea had been, was to see if he could see if that sparked more from Micah as he went. The fact that he seemed to be stopping his jumbled rant already, it would seem he wouldn’t need that after all.

“Wait a second, what was that theory?”

Chris paused, as if thinking,

“The hypnotic suggestion? Don’t tell me someone is actually researching that, are you kidding-”

“No Chris- I-”

“Because I swear if my friend finds out that he could eventually hypnotise his girlfriend-”

“Chris, that’s not what I-”

Chris was just barrelling forward, he knew this was probably a bit much, but his nerves about the entire ordeal during the night had gone into overdrive. Remembering how it had felt holding Talia as she cried, had him convinced that he needed to protect her from any doctor involved. Even his friend. Ricky and him, they were connected yes, and sure, he didn’t want either of them hurt either, but seeing her curled up against Ricky’s chest sobbing, and the thought of her broken like that again? Never. This was why he was driving Micah around in circles, and maybe one day he’d tell him, maybe one day he’d forgive him.

“Chris!”

“Shit! Sorry, Crap, Micah, you scared me.. What..”

“I wasn’t meaning about the hypnotic suggestion theory. What, what was the other theory you, you and your, friend, were, talking about?”

Here we go, time for the other foot to drop.

“Oh, um, was it, the uh, colour-blind tattoo soulmate theory one? About being the reason they are all only black or white?”

Chris didn’t know if he was frustrating Micah now, but he seemed to just let out a decent puff of air for a long moment then, taking in a slow breath.

“You mean the one about the tattoo changing, after the soulmate died? Like.. something anyway, sounds really stupid, right?”

Snorting derisively into the phone, as if he would have thought this entire thing was utterly ridiculous, and honestly, if it were happening to anyone else, he would.

The silence on the other end of the phone was deafening. 

When Micah started talking again, something in his voice had changed, even if it was just from him adjusting his posture at his desk, Chris didn’t know, but something had changed, and instantly it made the man wary.

“So your friend, was this his theory Chris, or yours?”

“We were just shooting the breeze and talking about random things we heard about in passing, they weren’t either of our own theories, Micah, why, what does it matter, why so serious all of a sudden man?”

It was making him very worried about the fact that Micah was getting so serious about this, especially since Ricky had said the remark about testing. Thinking about it now, sent a chill down his spine. What the hell was happening, Micah had never gotten like this before, never, he’d always been so easy going, even when their discussions had become extremely intense.

“No, no, Chris, not serious, or anything like that, I just, I’m curious. How the subject of tattoos changing like that came up exactly. Is this, something that, either of you have heard about from someone in person, or, just a random joke about in the moment.”

He was fishing, Chris knew he was fishing, and it was making him nervous. He pushed himself to laughed slightly.

“Why, is there something to worry about Micah? Don’t tell me, tattoos are changing left right and centre and the government is keeping it covered up, big conspiracy they don’t want anyone to know about?”

That Chris threw out there with a real-ass loud laugh, the thought that random tattoos could be changing and no one in the world would be talking about it would be laughable to him. The things he’d heard all over the message boards about the soulmate tattoos there was no way another person tattoo could have changed, and he wouldn’t have heard about it, no, no way. Surely not… right?

“Chris…”

“Yea?”

Trying to sound as nonchalant as humanly possible considering how completely unhinged he was feeling with the turn this conversation had taken.

“Has your tattoo changed?”

Micah knew his soulmate was dead, and Chris was kicking himself now for including that in the first place, about the tattoo changing after a soulmate passing away. Shit, maybe he wouldn’t be asking about Chris’ tattoo specifically if he hadn’t. What the fuck was he supposed to say, he had to say something, the longer he said nothing, Micah would know he was stalling.. The fact he’d paused, even for a second, he was going to know something was amiss.

Scoffing slightly after that second,

“No, stuff, the same, as always, still.. White.. Still… dead.”

Swallowing, yep, his soulmate was still very much dead, everything was exactly the way it was the last time they spoke, Micah. 

As much as he’d called for answers, the cryptic way Micah was being, Chris wasn’t sure he wanted answers from him any more, something was amiss and he was nervous.

Silence met him again from the other end of the line, and just when Chris went to say something himself, Micah spoke abruptly.

“Chris, whatever you do, don’t call this number again, I’ll be in touch.”

And the line went dead.

What the hell was happening?!?

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[terresdebrume]

38, 39, 41, and 42 for Lieb ship of your choice!

[From this ask game]

Thanks for the ask :D You're starting to know me, Lieb and Web are inseparable in my head, so we're going to go with that :P

38: Who is more sexually experimental? Who's more vanilla?

So I've read a bunch of fics where Web is the one with the surprising kinks and now it's kind of embedded in my head tbh x)

But also I don't think Web would necessarily be super out there in terms of kinkiness, I think it's more that Joe has all these ideas about what a guy can and should want and kinda subconsciously doesn't really let himself think of sexy stuff to do besides the 'classics' so to speak.

I do think he's very entertained by what he perceives to be his weirdo of a boyfriend though.

39: Who would rescue an injured animal and nurse it back to health? What would the other think?

I think most of their friends assume Web would be the one to do the puppy eyes and Joe does the actual nursing work, but depending on the severity of things I think it'd be the other way around.

I think after the war, Joe can't stand to watch animals in pain, every time he tries to do something that makes it uncomfortable it makes him sad angry and snappy and saying they should mercy kill the thing while being secretly heartbroken about it.

So what actually happens is that Web changes the bandages, force-feeds the medicine, occasionally drains infected wounds or looks for parasites in the feces, and he's the one who takes the animal to the vet to be put down/deals with the body when it's necessary.

Meanwhile, Joe goes to the shops to get the litter/food/meds, and when the animal is healthy again, if they decide to keep it, Web is very happy to leave most of the daily maintenance (filling the food and water bowl, cleaning cages, giving the baths, what have you) to Joe, who grumbles a lot but also doesn't actually try that hard to get Web to do his part.

41: Which one would take their jacket it off and drape over the other one because they were visibly shivering?

Oh, Joe. 100%. Web is more the 'let's get you a coat' type, which doesn't work with Lieb because

He's fundamentally incapable of just admitting when he needs something, and

David had zero issue buying a 500 dollars coat on the spot which drives Joe absolutely nuts and immediately sends him into enough of a rant to stop David in his tracks.

(On the other hand, Web is a big sucker for having his man loan him a jacket and has 'forgotten' to grab his on more than one occasion.)

42: What's their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? (getting snowed in together, watching thunderstorms, etc.)

I don't think Joe ever enjoys the cold again after Bastogne (don't think any of the guys do tbh) but when he is forced to endure it he definitely plasters himself to David for the duration.

In terms of what they actually enjoy, I think Web probably enjoys thunderstorms (or at least, feels like he's supposed to enjoy them as a writer, because of the Romantic aspects and whatnot) but actually likes a nap in the afternoon best, especially if he can get Joe to join him and they lounge around in the sunlight like cats.

For Joe, I think he likes early summer mornings, when there's still some dew on the grass and things aren't too hot yet, and he manages to drag Web out of bed for a quiet breakfast outside.

[impala1967dwinchester]

Sam Winchester- Health Nut

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pov: Sam Winchester

Warnings: Healthy, Physical Health, good eating, improving habits, flirting, kissing, exercise.

Summary: Sam notices that Y/n is having a hard time with her health.

A/n- This is a request; I thank Firefly-graphics for dividers.

WC- 1.1k

Sam W. Master List // Requests Master List // Main Master List

She’s is reading through her phone. Her back up against the headboard of the bed at the motel room. She had been with us for forever, it seemed that meeting us wasn’t accidentally, but regardless of that Y/n is the most comfortable person we’ve been around for years now.

Her brows furrow downward, as she bites her lower lip like she’s getting upset by something she’s reading. Dean and I sit at the wobbly motel table in the small kitchenette. Deans not looking at her not that when she first starting coming and staying around he wasn’t eye fucking her on the daily.

Her face changes again. Sadness wipes over her expression, and then she slams down her phone on the scratchy comforter. She stand quickly snatching her phone and slamming the bathroom door.

Dean looks up and towards the door. “What’s up her ass?” Long ago when Y/n wasn’t responding to Dean's flirting and constant harassment Dean learned to just treat her as a sister. A much younger sister who always had an attitude or issue with something. “I’m not sure De, but she seems pretty upset.” Dean looks over the edge of his computer screen looking at me like I’m a dumbass. “Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” He rolls his eyes, “why don’t you go figure it out.” He mutters, probably to himself but I follow his orders.

I get up walking towards the motel bathroom door. My footsteps were heavy against the shag carpet. The bathroom door swings open, and Y/n exists her face red. She wipes underneath her eyes and pushes past me. "Y/n, are you alright?" I try to ask as she pushes past me and walks towards the motel's door. Dean hasn't looked up from the computer screen. "Yeah, I'm just fucking fine Sam." Y/n outbursts don't surprise Dean. I stand there shock written across my face. "Give her some space Sammy."

I give her space so much that I don't talk to her until we're on the road back to the bunker. Dean had given me the keys when we started our drive back to the bunker. "Fix whatever is going on with Y/n, I'm gonna get some shut-eye." He mumbled while slapping the keys into my hand. Dean had crawled into the back, stretching out and causing Y/n to come to sit in the passenger seat.

"Y/n, how are you doing?" I ask, I could be talking about anything, I could be referring to the nasty punch she got on the side of her eye, or I could be referring to the way she had acted nearly three days ago. "Yeah, Sammy I'm doing okay." She answered gleaming looking outwards towards the passing trees, and the white strip on the side of the road that I had watched so many times as a kid, a young adult, and even now.

The sound of the road passes on, and that keeps the conversation at bay. That is until Y/n turns and starts up a conversation with me. "Sammy, do you think I need to eat better?" I sincerely don't know how to answer her question. I slowly brake at the next stoplight and wait for traffic. "What do you mean Y/n?" I ask her, trying to gather more information before answering her rather bland question.

"I'm just asking a simple question Sam, do you think I need to lose weight? Because according to the fucking internet and every single link on Google says that for my weight and height that I'm… I'm just too fat." Y/n goes on and on. Her eyes start to tear up and just as I try to touch her hand softly the horn of the car behind goes off.

I hit the gas and get through the now green light. The conversation lulls, and Y/n out of the corner of my eye is fidgeting with her nails and trying to keep the tears are bay. I pull over the side of the road not giving a shit how Dean in the back seat mumbles about something.

"Y/n, look at me will ya." She doesn't like she can't bare to have someone who cares about her look at her. "Sweetheart, please. I think you just need to not worry about what the internet says. You need to worry about how you feel." She starts to look over at me. Her bottom lip was stuck in between teeth. Keeping the tears at bay. "Sammy" She mutters underneath her crushing breathe.

"Sweetheart, I think that you're beautiful and if you want we can start working out, and eating better foods together… if that's what's concerning you." I reach over and grab her sweaty palm. Kissing her knuckles, "Together?" She questions, I nod my head. "Together Y/n."

It takes a few weeks before Y/n is up to the idea fully. After that night Y/n did a shit ton of research. Wanting to know more about food and how when combined with the proper exercise it's absolutely perfect for your body. After two long weeks, Y/n came into the library with a huge binder. Slamming it down on to the table in front of me. "What's this?" I asked as I set down the current book I was reading through. Y/n takes a seat down next to me, "This is a book of receipes and other artcles that talk about good excerises and food comobination you can use." Y/n is beaming. Beaming with excitement and it's such a contrast compared to what I had only just seen a few weeks ago.

"Alright, do you have something you want to start with or can I offer a few things?" I ask, taking the binder ans sliding in front of me, she's right the first twenty pages are just pages of healthy recipes, better food portions and less greasy food like Dean eats. "there's a few pages in the back where you can write down your thoughts." Y/n says as her hands brushes up agasint mine.

Y/n had never been fat, or chubby. She was perfect, perfect just the way she looked. But if she wanted to get into something that I did every morning like a run or some yoga I would love nothing more then helping her along the road.

I write down a few things. Things i had learned from eating 'rabbit food'. "We can do one of these recipes tonight, portiong control is as good as a place to start as any Y/n." I said closing the book after hooking out the recipe. "Okay Sammy," We sat in silence for a few moments, before the sound of my chair scratching the ground echoced through the bunker.

"Sammy, wait…" I turned and looked down at Y/n, She looked happy and sad at the same time. An expression I wasn't too sure about. "I just wanted to… to um say that I was sorry for how I acted on that hunt a few weeks ago… I know that you were just…" "Sweetheart, You don't have to apologize to me. I fully understand, now how about we get to cooking together. Y/n gets up and kisses my cheek. "Okay Sammy."

Completed on: 05/22/2023

Posted on: 05/22/2023

Stanford Tag List: @kazsrm67 @dilfloverr @wonderfulworldofwinchester @band--psycho @ijustlearnedtolove-beep-bop-boop @flamencodiva @stoneyggirl2 @samsgirl93

[kirisaki-daichi-scenarios]

kiridai + haizaki if they were dog owners attending a puppy class

Hanamiya Makoto

Bought a breed that needs good socialisation (I’m thinking a serious police lines Dutch Shepherd cause he’d want something with brains and drive but also something not “normie” as a Malinois) so puppy class it is to get the dog amiable around others.

The dog acts like it’s perfectly trained half the time: just a couple months old and already has perfect focus, and obviously Hanamiya goes above and beyond with training in his spare time, so the dog responds to cues perfectly, and Hanamiya has perfect timing with marking and rewarding behaviours because he’s just that sort of person

The other half of the time, the dog is kicking off because another puppy looked at them. 

And the trainer’s telling Hanamiya just to relax, shorten up his leash a bit, take a deep breath, but they can see his eyes just glazing over with fury every time the barking starts up again.

It hurts having to alternate between “Hanamiya, can you and [dog] demonstrate this behaviour because [dog] does it perfectly” and “right, someone will go get a barrier to calm [dog] down a bit” but Hanamiya’s going to have to get used to it, because that’s what you buy with an police lines import. 

The dog is always going to be a bit nuts, just like his owner ;) 

(Don’t choose a serious dog breed for clout as a first time owner, how about that Makoto?)

Seto Kentaro 

For Seto, I’m thinking he buys a small lapdog type terrier, maybe an English toy terrier, or maybe an English bulldog (although obviously I don’t recommend buying a breed with as many health issues as the English bulldog, and I’m pretty sure Seto would at least do the research on that sort of thing) 

Anyway, Seto’s the biggest guy with the smallest dog

Like when the puppy takes its mid-class snooze, he curls up on Seto’s shoe and he’s half the size of his owner’s foot. 

The main issue that they need to work on is separation anxiety; because Seto never really goes anywhere, the poor dog’s expects his owner to be with him all the time. So if Seto needs to go to the toilet and hands someone the leash, the poor puppy is just stood there whining sadly Seto’s back. He’s just too used to having his 6ft4 guardian with him at all times. 

Anyhow, Seto’s a weird one to teach because he’s not the world’s best dog trainer - he tends to be quite casual about everything, and he’s not hugely strict so in turn the dog’s quite 50/50 about actually following commands. (Think Seto saying “down”, puppy just staring at him while wagging his tail like mad and not making any move to lie down, until Seto’s like, “fuck it, you’re too cute for your own good” and gives him the treat anyway)

But the thing is, despite this half-hearted attitude to training, Seto knows the theory like it’s no one’s business. The trainer will offer him some advice and  Seto’s like “oh, so just using the Premack Principle?” or “so just conditioning more cut-off signals while they’re still sub-threshold?” 

Like, yes but how do you know those words? Spend less time reading and more time working your dog please

(And please join me in imagining the trainer telling Seto to call his dog away with kissy sounds or a high-pitched voice, rather than pulling on the leash, and the sheer awkwardness on Seto’s face as he attempts his best baby voice.)

Yamazaki Hiroshi

Thought he wanted a proper working lines dog (some sort of spaniel breed probably) because he read on the internet that they’re healthier and “perfect for [his] active lifestyle” but he didn’t realise how much work a working line dog needs and now he’s come to the puppy class in desperate need of help. 

Dark circles under his eyes and his hands are permanently covered in cuts and scars from those sharp little puppy teeth

But despite the wounds, he adores his little dog and his little dog adores him 

(Shame they express it by trying to chomp on his poor skin) 

Yamazaki’s the guy who’s always absent-mindedly petting his dog even when the trainer tells him not to while working on a certain behaviour

Yamazaki’s also that guy who’s always taking notes after class, always asking questions (comes back every week like “about the biting...”), and he always does his homework, so his dog shows the most improvement by the end of the course

He gets the little graduation certificate and he’s trying to bite back the happy/proud tears (meanwhile the dog’s trying its damnedest to get a hold of the certificate and rip it to shreds)

Furuhashi Kojiro

He’s just a good conscientious owner who did all the research before he bought his puppy, and has been training them from the beginning and figured a puppy class was the right thing to do just in case

(N.B. I have absolutely no idea what kind of dog Furu would want cause, in my mind, he’s normally a cat person. But I’m assuming that a rare and quiet breed that’s not the most clingy would be right up Furu’s alley, so Kishu Ken it is.)  

Honestly Furu rocks up to the puppy class and both his and the puppy’s minds are a bit blown: Furuhashi’s because he didn’t realise how little everyone else had trained their puppies, and the puppy’s because it’s gone from being used to life with its quiet owner in a quiet house going on quiet walks to a classroom surrounded by lots of other very excited dogs

But the puppy soon settles, as does Furuhashi, and for the most part, their time at the puppy classes goes quite smoothly 

(As it often does if people just do their homework between classes)

The only time they have any issues is in any exercise where Furuhashi has to be a bit more animate

Like an exercise where you make your voice and body language all excited to get the dog riled up so they can learn to calm down as soon as you calm down: Furuhashi’s idea of “getting excited” is one small awkward and a monotone “good puppy”

Meanwhile the puppy’s staring at him like “he’s a bit boring, but he’s my bit boring”

(And on a separate note, Furuhashi definitely ends up bringing his sister to some of classes. She’s still staying with their parents, who won’t let her get a dog, so she’s living vicariously through Furu’s dog ownership. And, Furu being the good big brother that he is, only encourages her interests. So if she wants to be around puppies more, he takes her to the classes. And if she’s getting bored, he hands her his puppy’s leash so that she can do the exercises and get the trainer’s guidance instead of him.)

Hara Kazuya

The dog is Hara’s partner’s/friend’s, but Hara comes along for moral support and to play with the other puppies before the class starts

Actually, you know what, we’ll say this is an older characters AU where Yamazaki and Hara are roommates and he’s come with Zaki and his lunatic spaniel

Hara takes the “class” in “puppy class” seriously, and by that I mean he acts like a class clown as if he’s still in school - he views a successful class as a class where he makes the trainer laugh at least once, and flirts with one of the assistants at least once

Zaki’s probably wondering why he asked Hara to come because now, every time a puppy starts barking, Hara’s whispering in their ear “Hanamiya when someone tells him to be nice”; or a puppy pees all over the floor and then it’s “you after a night out”

Having said that, Hara’s also a great training tool cause puppies love him and he always gets them very over-excited 

So, when the homework was working on your puppies not jumping up on people, the trainer gets Hara to be the guinea pig, cause he’s the ultimate test

Haizaki Shougo 

Probably only attending the classes because he was court ordered to be there or something after his dog’s already showing dangerous behaviour - Haizaki’s the kind of owner who could screw up a puppy, but he’s also the kind who buys a puppy who’s probably genetically screwed up

He falls for those horrid guard breed puppy ads online (you know the ones - with the pictures of barking dogs Photoshopped into flames or whatever and with the caption like “UNREAL DRIVE!! CRAZY STRUCTURE!! SUPER PROTECTIVE!! buy your bundle of joy from us today, perfect for a first time owner <3)

(In case you don’t know what I mean, think something like this)

Anyway so Haizaki gets a Presa Canario, maybe a bully, or maybe a Tosa Inu cause he’s in Japan and, if anyone in KNB is interested in dog fighting, it’s Haizaki because he’s just not a great person

Haizaki rocks up to classes very reluctantly and could not care less about them

He keeps letting the leash get too long so his puppy keeps getting in the other dog’s faces and upsetting them; he’s on his phone half the time; and he just doesn’t take on board any advice

For example the trainer talks to him about loose leash walking and Haizaki just zones out - cause in his mind, there’s no point putting the effort in to train them when he’s a big guy who can easily hold back even a 40kg dog

So the trainer thinks Haizaki’s pretty much a lost cause, poor dog, etc

But then, one fateful day, when the dog’s barking their head off for the thousandth time, the trainer gives Haizaki a tip and it works! 

And something clicks in Haizaki’s brain and he realises he doesn’t have to put up with his dog being a ‘nuisance’ - he can just put some effort in and train them and make life happier for the both of them

After that things are much smoother sailing and Haizaki actually starts engaging with the class and asking the trainer for advice on the (many) other issues the dog has

It takes a while for Haizaki and the puppy to graduate out of the class, just because of all the damage that needs undoing, but the fact that Haizaki sticks around, even after his court-ordered time is up, is already good news 

The dog will never be 100% in certain environments but at least they walk nicely for the most part and knows some commands

And it’s safe to say that, when Haizaki spots the dog trainer a few months later, they’re the first teacher that Haizaki’s ever stopped to say hello to

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Introspection

Summary: Moon Knight Comic universe. A study of the Interpersonal relationships between Marc, Jake, Steven, Mr. Knight, and Moon Knight.

They don't always get along. Sometimes they have no choice but to hold things together while one of them seems determined to take them apart.

Pairings: Gen fic, Brief mentions of Greer and Marc.

Warnings: Dissociation

Word Count: 4715

A personal note: I started this as something else and then had a small mental health event and continued to work on this. So it didn't go where I had planned on going. But here it is for whatever it's worth. I hope it's worth something.

----

MARC

Sometimes I remember life one way and sometimes I remember it another. It’s hard to pin it all down. If you asked me what I did this morning I’d be hard pressed to tell you the fine details but I can guess the usual. 

Each awakening starts the same. I listen to just about every joint in my body pop and creak as I crawl out of bed and wait for sensation to return to my body. I imagine it much like watching someone claw their way out of a shallow grave. When I am sure that the body is mine, I chug the coffee that by now must be two days old and reheated so many times the burnt smell only makes me think it’s stronger than it is. 

It does nothing for my headache but at least the double vision blurs into one and I can do more than make further zombie sounds. This does little for the popular notion that I am a dead man that has returned from the grave so many times that I sometimes catch myself glancing in the mirror at the symbole on my forehead. Is it still a moon? Am I sure? Is it the crest of a god or the word of another? Perhaps it is the truth. 

I try not to think about it if I don’t want to spend the next hour fading in and out of that dangerous void. 

Today is a bad day. I can’t stay out of the past. It happens. The past is a long dark tunnel or a glimpse of a street light I once stood too long under. 

I can feel the annoyance as I fade and cling at the same time. He calls me a pain as I dig my heels in. I’ve been told that I have a nasty tendency to dig my grubby mitts in so hard that it takes a considerable fight to knock me out of place. He says I have control issues. 

I don’t do it on purpose. I frankly wouldn’t know how to stay if I wanted to. I tend to come and go like a nasty habit you just can’t get rid of. Every time you think you’ve kicked it, it comes crawling back. 

Sure, I can give it up for them when we talk. When we talk. I remember the silence. Confusion and blanks written off with a shrug. Then I remember the yelling. There used to be so much yelling. Like siblings yelling from one room to the other over a barrier of invisible walls and doors that rattled on old hinges. 

We don’t yell anymore. Mostly. He calls me short sighted. The other one calls me a Schlimazel. He thinks he’s funny. I snapped and called him a Meshuggeneh once and he laughed about it for two weeks straight. He takes a special delight when I speak in that tongue. 

I think there is a popular opinion that we act like a big family full of love. Just a bunch of brothers that look out for one another. Bullshit. We are not brothers. Brothers in our situation would have probably killed each other years ago. The truth is that we are three grown men all trying to drive the same car and decide on where it’s going all at the same time. 

Sometimes we want to go to the living room and end up on the fucking roof. And it’s always anyone’s guess on how we got up there. When was the last time we ate? Did the other one go nuts on eggs again or did I have the reins and forget to eat for three days because I’m an idiot? It’s anyone’s guess. 

It has taken us a very very long time to figure out how to function. How to work as a team. How to care about one another. We certainly didn’t come into this wanting to help the other guy stop crying. It was just annoying listening to him cry all the time. We wanted him to stop. I wanted him to stop. I wanted to stop. He wanted me to stop. We were just kids. Just kids learning to share and… 

Here I go again, floating into the void and I think we’ve been staring at the same spot on the wall for ten minutes. He’s fucking yelling at me to get my shit together. 

I know what would really piss him off. I don’t want to piss him off. But I do. I piss him off by existing sometimes. He used to wish I would go away. He could put up with the other one but me? I was unacceptable. I used to wish I would go away too. I hated how much I was present. Always there. Always waiting to be angry. Waiting to punch something. Waiting to find a reason. 

They both tell me I need to stop. I needed to learn how to exist. I existed enough. It’s how we got into this mess. I existed. My name was put on a paper: Here Elias begat Marc and all the trouble that came with. 

I’m the trauma. I’m the reason. I’m the one that ran. I’m the one that made the decisions. I’m the one that lost… 

Now here’s the territory that he won’t let me near. Says I get too close and hurt myself too much. As if I can’t help but shout out “Here I am”. 

And as I sit and stare into the fire of my trauma, he finally pulls me and it feels like a relief as even the body lets out a sigh. 

STEVEN

It takes a minute. It doesn’t always. When he cooperates it’s like lightning. That’s the problem though, isn’t it? Marc Spector cooperating? The very notion of it makes me smile. 

Like the notion that Marc might actually take the moment to be more aware. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so pissed off. 

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not pissed at him. Not really. It’s hard to be pissed at him these days. Back at the start, though? All you had to do was imply his presence and I was pissed at the man. 

I think he still strives for that. He wants us to be angry at him. Give the man a stick and find him in the woods poking a bear for kicks. 

I’m pissed because I have to do this. I’m pissed because this is something that we still have to do. What brought it about this time? That’s always the part I hate the most. Trying to figure out why Marc had to be pulled. 

We know our places now. It wasn’t easy to figure out. There was a certain level of trust we had to reach to figure it out. When Marc was needed, we knew it was going to hurt. We hardly ever asked for his help. It was pride not to. 

Me? Needing his help? When I could just avoid the situation all together, why would I need his help? 

My denial was deep enough to drown us. My pride, the anchor that brought us down. 

Marc thinks I’d have been the perfect son. I was better. I was the one you introduced to your friends. And in this corner you see Steven Grant, poised and perfect. Just don’t ask him where his family is from. A nod and a wink and we can pretend he’s something else, right? 

Marc forgets how outright obnoxious I used to be. Forget the bruised knees and black eye. That was someone else. My creases were all pressed and my shirts were the whitest. “Yes teacher or course teacher right away teacher”. With grades and posture, I could look down my nose at the world. 

So why wasn’t I the perfect son? Because that was someone else. The real mensch. Yeah, he came a little late, but that’s the nature of him, isn’t it? While Marc and I circled the drain, he sat back with the plug yucking it up with the locals. He doesn’t know our trauma. Our pain. He shifts in and out like it’s nothing. That’s his job. 

Now I’m beyond annoyed. That spot on the wall still hasn’t moved and I’m stuck playing put the lid back on everything Marc opened up. 

I don’t tell him. He has enough to beat himself up over. I don’t tell him how it all carries over. I don’t tell him how his tears sting a little bit more when I’m the one shedding them. I don’t tell him that my hands shake just a little bit as I flush out our wounds. 

There’s a new bruise and I swear it lines up with someone’s fist perfectly. The night was long and now here we sit with ice and a fog that I can’t make go away. Images of our father float in and out and I hear something that I don’t know the words to. 

The fact that Marc does makes me angry. Angry at myself. 

Marc will never know how much he reminds me of our father. Not because he is like the man. No, they couldn’t be further from night and day. But Marc, full of vengeance and fire and bloody fists… No one worships like he does. Only our father, a Rabbi, could have more faith. 

I’d never tell him this, though. He wouldn’t understand. 

The wounds are clean and the bandages applied. My job is done and there is still so much more work to do. I do what I can. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. 

The mensch wants to know what’s going on. He doesn’t pay attention. He doesn’t have to. It’s my turn to be the stubborn ass and it isn’t till I feel the warm comfort of his embrace that I realize there’s more needed than a desperate need to make amends. 

JAKE

Bubbeleh, take a rest, eh? 

What’s going on up here? Why are we so worked up? I step out for a second and look at this mess. Stomach sounds like a grinder and I feel like we did ten rounds with that gorilla at the zoo. 

Steven makes a jab at my choice in food. What part of our life has been Kosher? Why start now? I think we’ll be forgiven if we break a few rules. Ah, there’s the issue, isn’t it? 

Memories. 

I can sit back and watch them. They play like an old flickering television with a bent antenna. 

No guess on who let these out of the box. He sulks in the back and I can feel his pain radiating across the whole void. 

Marc… If it was ever possible for someone to embody the word Schlep it would be Marc. I sit back quietly for a bit, letting the food soothe the body first. That quiets Steven down. Always worried about the body. The body relaxes and so does Steven. 

Steven settled, now comes the hard part. 

I do remember. I see the boy struggling and I see the other one rebelling in his own way. I remember stepping in more times than they know. I remember what it was to wrap ourselves in a large warm blanket and cry ourselves to sleep. 

The mustache goes on. Steven hates it. Hates what the adhesive does to our skin. I tell him to grow it out naturally; but then you’d have two problems instead of one. I’m a problem fixer. My problem can be fixed with adhesive and a hat.  

I pull my sweater closer and adjust my hat. Marc would riot if I wore the other hat. It was easier to dip into older traditions. It feels right. It feels like it holds us down and gives me the silhouette I know is right. 

Steven thinks I don’t know. I know more than he does sometimes. I never settled on denial. I just settled on acceptance. 

I whisper the right words. The ones that finish the song Steven forgot. They say there is a prayer for everything. Meditate on it long enough and there is a blessing for every situation. 

Sometimes a simple blessing is one that simply soothes the soul. It doesn’t have to make sense or even be appropriate. Just a notion that you do belong and that the good you do is truth enough to exist. 

“May it be your will that I lie down in peace and rise up in peace.” It isn’t the whole prayer. I don’t even remember the whole thing, but the whole thing isn’t what is needed now. Words are like that. Like a lullabye or a magic spell, we settle in peace. We know the truth to those words. 

And we do rise. We always rise up, but never in peace. But for now… At least we can lie down in a sort of peace. 

Cat naps, really. I close our eyes in the reclined seat of the cab as the sounds of the city soothe us into a slumber that keeps the dreams away. 

A yawn and a blinker later, we tour the city. This is my peace. Chit chat with the locals, a tip here and there from the underground. I smile to the fare and impart knowledge on the tourists. We were all dazzled by the city at one point or another. 

By the time my tour is over, we feel rested and refreshed. As much as is capable for us to feel anyways. I think if we ever really did rest we might not ever get back up again. 

Steven is quiet and back in place where he can pretend that maybe this time Marc might behave. I wish I lived in that bloke’s world. At least I know he won’t spiral for a bit. He likes to at least space out his breakdowns a bit. Adds flavor for when they really do build up. 

And a look up at the rising night sky assures me that Marc is also quiet, resting and pretending that he won’t be needed again. I don’t know how to tell him that he’ll always be needed. That he’s wanted. That I wouldn’t trust anyone else to watch my back. 

But now another bloke is stirring and asking questions. 

Yeah buddy, we got this. Just a hiccup or two. The usual. 

He relaxes and I let him stretch. He’s the shy one of the group, which is ironic considering just how flashy he is. 

You want denial, just ask him who lives under that mask. 

I relax back. He does better when we aren’t watching. Maybe someday he’ll feel confident enough to etch out his own place. It’s really enough to make me want to come up with a new prayer just for him. I was never a wordsmith though. Blessings were more of Marc’s territory anyways. 

MOON KNIGHT 

He gives us the information we need. He asks if we want to know about the day. We don’t. We appreciate the offer. He has a lot to share, but these things don’t mean anything to us. He has a lot of strength to offer and we appreciate him for it… But sometimes we enjoy just sitting in silence as we feel the moon and city and justice. 

We don’t know what we did today. We don’t know how the body is doing. We don’t know how they are doing. That isn’t really our business. Our business is up here under the sky under the mask. We can feel the bandages and know the fussy one has taken care of us. We feel energy and relaxed and know the chatty one has done his part. We also feel the anger and need to punch something and know our companion is ready. 

He isn’t always there. Sometimes it’s just me and I feel like a ghost, sliding through the moonbeams and haunting the streets. I don’t know how I feel about these times. 

Our companion helps us. We help him. He pretends to be us and we let him. He can pretend that he doesn’t exist and we are blended until his needs are ours and our actions are his. 

Sometimes he bleeds through. Sometimes the mask becomes heavy on his skin and we have to assert ourselves. We act on behalf of the system. We act because it’s what he needs. When his needs hurt, we let the others take him away. 

We aren’t sure when we became me. When I became individual. We prefer him to be there. We remember a time when we were one. Now we aren’t sure who or what we are. The fussy one prods at us sometimes. Questions us and tries to find out what we know. He asks us a lot of questions. Right now he dismisses us as essential to our companion and lets it go. The chatty one spends a lot of time trying to talk with us. He does not care for the mask and often sits back and just talks. I think he thinks we are a good way to see how our Companion is doing. 

Our companion sometimes resents us. We are the job. We are the work. We are the way for him to let off steam. We are the action to what needs to be done. 

But we are only here when the sky is dark and when justice is needed. When we slip away, it is just him and that is when the mask becomes too heavy. 

That is when we aren’t sure…  There is another we. 

Mr. Knight

I am not Marc Spector. This much I know. Marc doesn’t know this. It’s a recent development. Steven calls it ‘failure to trauma process’. Marc hides behind us. It is difficult to know when he is he and I am me. He is the man under the mask that does not wish to be there. I am the mask. 

The problem was that he would not take off the mask. We became new. 

I’m not sure what I think of things. Only Marc wears the mask. Jake doesn’t care to wear us. Our style doesn’t really match his, but he’s still supportive. Steven was exasperated by us at first but now he finds a useful transfer of information through us. The actual Knight? We’re a team. Sometimes we talk. Perhaps we have the most in common. We have jobs. Our job? We protect Marc. 

The Knight is difficult to speak with sometimes. He’s a bright white light in the dark and sometimes formless. I honestly can’t tell if he is one person or many pretending to be one. Maybe he’s all of us? Maybe I’m really just Marc pretending to be someone else. 

Steven tells me I’m too self aware for that. I asked Steven about the Knight once and Steven didn’t have an answer. 

Sometimes I am Marc. When his blood boils and he walks the street in search of something to hit I very much am Marc. I’m a thin shield over him, much like gauze over a wound. I don’t have fists. I am just the gloves that soak up the grime. 

I become myself when Marc checks out. He still loses time. He won’t admit it. Staring at the far wall while he sits in his chair or waters his plants. My plants. We keep things tidy. Perhaps that is why Steven likes us. 

I keep up appearances. How would it look to find ‘Mr. Knight’ standing in the corner staring at the dust on the leaves for the past twenty minutes? 

I think the others notice. The vampire? She knows. Once she met Steven she caught on real quick. Jake and Steven? Easy. Those two idiots couldn’t ever pretend to be someone else. They fought too long and hard to be independent. She isn’t sure about the Knight. It’s hard to tell with him. Perhaps she sees him as something else completely. Maybe he is. 

Me? She watches me carefully. Jake calls me ‘auto pilot’. When Marc goes ‘space case’ someone has to drive. I think the vampire avoids me when she doesn’t sense Marc there. Maybe I am an auto pilot. A way for him to watch the world without having to take off the mask. I’m okay with that.

The Tiger has noticed me but doesn’t say anything. She’s more familiar with Steven and Jake. Jake chats up anyone and everyone. Steven likes communication. Any way for him to ‘settle the system’ he takes it. The moment the Tiger officially became a part of the picture, Steven and Jake got involved. They like her. She is on edge around the Knight. Perhaps she senses something different about them. It’s hard not to. With me? She asks me to step back. She got Marc to take the mask off the other day. It was nice to step back. I’m not sure what will happen to me if Marc stops wearing the mask all the time. Maybe we become ‘Just Marc’ again. 

 I’m here as long as he needs me. 

Right now he needs me. We’re having a rough day. I say we because when Marc has a bad day, we ALL have a bad day. 

Marc is having a panic attack. 

His mask is off and he has locked himself in his room. The first line of defense steps up. 

We can all feel him assess the body. Marc digs in hard. In his worst moments it would take an act of sheer force to pry the body away from him. 

Steven is cool and collected as he looks the situation over. He talks to Marc and we all watch. It gets crowded up in the front during these times and Jake hangs back. He likes to show his support but also make sure no one else gets in the way. 

We had an incident a month back where we all tried to have opinions. Talk about loud chaos. 

Marc starts to yell and Steven shakes his head, not wanting to force it but not wanting to let it continue. 

The Knight simply watches, formless and bright. They don’t understand these things. They do understand that it can affect how they function though. 

Jake saunters in, hands in pockets as he talks to Marc and Steven. They all have history. 

Marc reaches for me. He wants to hide. I soak up the tears and cover the scars. 

Steven sighs and I can feel his pull as we wordlessly talk. I am auto pilot as Marc fades back and the body carries on. We feel tired. The information travels up the ranks and we all decide what to do with it. 

The Knight shares in his own strange way the memories of a full night. Jake shares memories of a full day. I sit in the chair and watch as the mission moves around us. 

Steven gives orders. Sleep. Short and sweet. 

Convincing Marc to sleep is a chore for the others, but not for me. 

When Marc thinks he is me, I can simply stand and move us to the sarcophagus. Climbing in, Marc settles back and we all feel the body sink in. 

We aren’t perfect, but we are a team. We have to be. 

Tomorrow Marc will wake up again. Tomorrow we will all find our places and tomorrow there might be more of us or less of us. Just gotta roll with the punches. 

Marc

Here we go again. Alarm. Awake. Headache. Confusion. Fight through. 

Fight through. 

Pain and aches and old blood and this deep fog that mutes all light and sound and color and feeling. I live here. I live in the blur. I work best in the blur. 

Muffled and soft. It lets me breathe. In and out. I can’t hear my own pounding blood rushing in my head. I can’t feel the cracks and pops as my legs bend and snap into place to lift this shell. 

I move past the room filled with plants I don’t remember buying. Past the decorations I don’t remember setting up. Hand tracing the ever breathing and changing walls of the living mission. 

I pause. 

“Good morning.” We understand one another. A haunted shell. Walls that hold nothing and too much. 

The walls breathe and I wait. I breathe with them, meditative and peaceful. A moment for me. Only for me. This is how I ground. I connect with the ghost in the walls until I too can inhabit my home. 

Good morning.

Coffee. Chatter. Energy. Noise. Movement. I’ve surrounded myself with movement. I remember a time when my life was non-stop movement. 

Come and go. Through the door as Steven, out the door as Jake, in the sky as Marc and… I try not to think too hard about that part. That time in my life is hard for me to pin down. I wasn’t the one driving most of the time. Then when I was, it was filled with pain. 

Now I’m sitting here and they move around me and I am waiting. The movement has slowed down. When I do go, it isn’t the constant shifting, changing, and rushing that it was. 

It feels… Languid. 

I gaze out the window. It’s a quiet night. I don’t trust the quiet ones. They drift slow and I’m left pacing like a caged tiger. 

“Marc. Sit.” Speaking of caged tiger… She watches me and gestures for me to join her. Calm and peaceful and domestic. 

I hesitate. Domestic was not something I could do. Domestic was his. 

They say cats can sense the switch. Maybe it’s chemical. Maybe it’s just sensing the mood. 

I try not to. I try domestic. I don’t deserve domestic. Domestic and Marc Spector do not belong together. 

It’s just sitting. 

Mr. Domestic chimes in. Of course he would. I stop and she watches. The mask hides the fade. I wonder if she can sense it because her tail starts to twitch. 

I’m grounded. I have no reason to give in. There is no danger. I have no reason to stay. All that stands before me now is the one thing Marc Spector has never been able to handle: Happiness. 

She isn’t gonna be happy if you don’t put your butt in that chair.

The other guy. Mr. Charm. As if he were a professional at making people happy. 

Take off the mask. 

We should patrol. 

Let’s go out and have a drink. 

We need to take a day off. 

The people need to see us. 

I’m so tired.

Needless to say we all have opinions. More than I would think there would be. Some that come softly and others that rock through us like a megaphone to the brain. 

I sit with her. She rolls up the mask just enough to touch the face. Our face. My face. 

Slowly. Like peeling back layers of grime and sand and blood and pain and trauma I let her take the mask away. She places it just in reach of me. As if she knows something I don’t. Something that makes my fingers twitch towards it, longing to touch it. To press it to my heart and keep it safe like a gentle friend. 

I take a breath. Let the air fill my lungs. Let the fog fade. Let the world settle. Let the Me I am becoming fight the Me I have been back and into submissive silence. 

There will be days. Days where that me wins. Days where I do not sit with her. Days where I flinch away and pull the mask back down. Days where the past pierces through me and I am lost again. 

“It’s quiet.” I close my eyes and lean back. 

“Quiet?” She gently curls into me. Warm and soft and heavy at my side. 

“For now.” I relax and feel my foundation shift, letting these old walls settle as they continue to hold it all up. The body sighs and I look at her. Me and him and the other and they and them and us. “Here I am.” 

We rise in peace. 

I let us be at peace. 

[patibato]

hello!!! i just wanted to say, thank you so much for your translations!! we’re so grateful for them <3 also, don’t rush to do them, make sure to take breaks and also keep your health in check!

btw, im so curious, who’s your fav in every group and whose your fav out of all the characters?

Thank you for your kind words! I've been making sure to pace myself and take breaks (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

It's kinda hard to be sure who my favs are so early on, particularly when I haven't read all of the novels yet, but as of right now (also sorted in order of fav groups, not much detail bc spoilers -.-):

Day2: it's all VERY close, but Right Now I'd rank them Ushio > Muneuji > Akuta > Kiroku=Nanaki. The issue with trying to rank them Definitively is that I'm very much into them As A Group rather than individually, so it just kinda… feels wrong to list one without the others lol. But at the minute, my overall fav is Ushio

Ev3ns: Tao! His lore drives me nuts to think about, but I am also weak to the Just Some Guy appeal. He was actually my number 1 when I did the oshi quiz pre-release!

L4mps: Netaro, because he's fun and I'm really looking forward to how Certain Things shake out (…so it's partly because of my Day2 bias. Iykyk. But not ENTIRELY.) Expecting big things from Yodaka too… nothing in particular bc there's very little to go off, but that makes things exciting, y'know?

R1ze: depends if we're rating on lore or personality, I guess? Not that those are unrelated of course, but… for lore it's Renga (also drives me nuts), personality it's Kafka (silly guy)!

[spaceorphan18]

Have you read the latest script of K&J's podcast about the Michael episode? I'm very interested in hearing your thoughts. They were talking about Jenna acting out and being forced to take time off. And they mentioned being upset because other people were acting out and getting storylines or being given time off to do other things. The later one is def about D since he went to do the musical but I can't believe he would act out for that, it's like totally OOC.

Same anon as before as I was just finishing to read the script. They did indeed talk about Darren being written off and I'm debating if I should listen this time because the way it's written they seem very jealous of him. I'm getting upset by just reading this. So I'm still very curious about your thoughts about it if and when you have the chance to read/listen to it.

I actually figured you guys were all tired of my opinions, lol.

Yes, I did kind of skim the transcript this morning because I saw people talking about it and was curious. And, I have a lot of complicated feelings about the whole thing.

First of all, though, I say this with love to all the Blaine and Darren fans out there -- Kevin and Jenna are never going to be able to be objective when doing this podcast. I keep thinking about all the other rewatch podcasts I listen to, and how all of them - even when discussing things that were hard to go through and/or things that weren't that great with the show - have a level of decorum that Kevin and Jenna just do not have. I do not know why they began this podcast, but digging into the show on a media analysis level just is not where their talents lie.

(Also, I don't think they love Glee the way those other podcasters genuinely love their show and that just colors how they see things. I'll get more into this in a moment...)

And I get that it's frustrating. Believe me, I do. There are plenty of Kurt things they do not talk about that drive me nuts. But at the same time, I feel like the 'recaps' have boiled down to praising Naya, Amber, and themselves; commentating on whatever BTS stuff comes up, and discussing shit on TikTok. I'm not sure why they're even bothering with the 'recaps', tbh.

But guys - if this podcast is upsetting you, if you're finding yourself this anxious or mad or whatever -- it's time to stop. They're not going to change how they do things, and at this point, I'm not entirely sure what you're waiting for from them? Maybe it's time to stop hate listening <3 <3

***

As for the acting out -- I think a lot of the cast probably did. I'm sure Lea was a terror to work with at times. I'm sure Mark probably wasn't easy either. I know Naya spoke up on a lot of things -- though the producers didn't take as much issue with her until the Season 5 drama. Chris was pretty vocal about choices with his character. I can imagine Amber being just as frustrated with Mercedes' lack of anything to do. Didn't Heather say she kept it all inward? And what about Diana who really seems to not ever want to talk about Glee again?

So - who knows what acting out means, tbh.

Keeping all of this in context -- this cast was very tired by the time Season 3 came around. There were too many characters to service, they keep adding ones in, and they were all very young. (And for those of you who are experiencing your early 20s right now? I hate to say this to you -- but you are all still very young.) Added on the fact that the producers clearly did not understand their mental health needs (as evident about how apologetic Ryan Murphy seems to be about all of it) you get a lot of young people expressing their frustration in a lot of different ways over a lot of different things.

I think that Jenna has some very, very complicated feelings about the show -- and in particular about this era because this is where she had a rather big break down. You know what, I do feel for her, because I can see where she's coming from. I can't imagine - feeling like you're tied to a job where everyone around you seems to be getting a better deal than you, and you're trying to be the nice one, and eventually, holding all of that inwardly will make you crack. I'm glad she went to therapy. I kinda hope she's still going to therapy because it seems as though a lot of this is still bothering her.

And I don't really think that Darren, specifically, is ultimately what led to Jenna's breakdown. I think it was a lot of things compounding on each other and Darren on Broadway might have been the last straw that caused her to crack.

I will say (again with all the love to Darren, I adore the guy) there was underground talk that when Darren first got there - he didn't exactly handle his newfound fame in the most eloquent of ways -- in that he was a little on the pompous side. But again, that was age, and by the time Season 4 came around, by all accounts that I came across, he was friends with everyone.

That said - none of this is Darren's fault. It's not Darren's fault that Ryan Murphy handled his young cast and their mental health very badly. It's not Darren's fault that he jumped on opportunities when they arose. It's not Darren's fault that through his natural talents Blaine became a way more popular character than half the original cast. And it's not Darren's fault that Jenna has her own shit to deal with.

***

So, yeah...

I guess those are my thoughts.

And I'm still here enjoying Kurt, Blaine, Chris, and Darren -- and believe it or not, a lot of the show in general. And I don't really listen to Kevin and Jenna's podcast anymore because they just don't care about the things I do -- and that's fine.