#i feel so bad for not doing this on time but i felt SO depressed on his bday bcus of hypstage i just couldn't

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Thirteen: [Panic Room]

Summary: Jakes darkest fears come to fruition when surgery doesn’t go as planned and the months to come bring a new reality he never saw coming.

Warnings: MAIN CHARACTER DEATH Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Mentions of religion.

Word Count: 5.5k

Author Note: A big show of appreciation and love to @a-reader-and-a-writer (Vee) for constantly being ready and willing to help me with my writing. You have been the backbone I needed to get this done!

You guys will never know how much this series means to me. And in the same breath, you guys will never know how much your support truly means. Merry Christmas Eve Eve 2024 ya filthy animals.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Researchers say the average length of a dream is two to three minutes long. But many people experience their dreams as hours, days, or even years if they can remember them at all. 

The science of dreaming has been questioned for hundreds of years. Some hypothesise that dreams are our way of processing real events that occur when we’re awake. They also serve as an outlet for repressed hopes and desires. Neuroscientists introduce a new theory every few years. But honestly, no one knows why we dream. 

Or why we have nightmares. We just hope that after the dream, we wake up. 

“We’ve gone over all the risks, weighed up all the possible outcomes, dotted I’s and crossed T’s. Today is the day, Mrs. Seresin.” Doctor Morrison was hopeful in his consultation. The white coat-wearing man reassured you as he placed your chart back where it belonged. “How are you feeling?” 

The question went unanswered for a moment or two. You felt like you were in a state of shock. Unable to truly express how you felt just hours before going into what could be life-changing surgery. You were giving everyone in the room a thousand-yard stare. Mentally and physically, you had checked out. Like you’d been stuck in a nightmare that wouldn’t stop torturing you. 

“We had some bad news last night. A close friend passed away unexpectedly,” Jake answered on your behalf. “Is there any way–” 

“We need to do this now, Mr. Seresin, or we won’t be able to revisit this for a few months,” Dr. Morrison explained with an emphasis on the matter of now or never. “I understand personal circumstances may have changed. However, knowing everything you know about risk and recovery and survival rates after double mastectomies, I recommend we stick to the organised care plan.” 

“Can we have a moment alone?” Jake asked cautiously as his hand came to rest gently on your shoulder. You hadn’t moved from what could only be described as a catatonic-like state for the entire duration of the conversation. 

“Of course,” Dr. Morrison nodded. “I’ll come back after I’ve checked in on a few patients.” 

It didn’t take long at all for the oncology crew to exit the room. But the second they did, you felt like you could breathe again. 

“I can’t go through with this surgery Jake,” you begged. Fear of the unknown had taken over your entire being. “I can’t do this,” 

“You are the strongest person I know, honey, the kids and I really need you to do this.” Jake tried his best to comfort you as well as remind you why this surgery was so important. “We need you, yeah? We need you to stick around and this fucking cancer, this disease, is trying to cut that time short.” 

“But Jensen–” 

At the height of the Great Depression, Harvard scientists started tracking students in hopes of discovering the key to a long and happy life. They looked at participants’ mental and physical health over seventy-five years. It’s the longest study of happiness to date. Seventy-five years and all they did was confirm what we’ve known since the beginning of time. 

The most powerful predictor of health and happiness is the quality of our relationships. 

Strong relationships protect us. Loneliness on the other hand…can be deadly. 

“Would want you to keep fighting and have this surgery.” Jake could have said he thought Jensen was a coward. He could have said how angry he was at that fucker for leaving you alone in this world with no one to confide in who knew the struggle, who knew the feeling of being told you’re sick and need to get sicker in order to get better. 

Jake could have told you how he wished Jensen had survived so he could kill him himself. Jake could have responded with the fact Jensen was terminal and there was nothing on this earth that could have saved him from his illness. 

Jake could have told you that Jensen thought you hung the stars and the moon in the night sky every night just for him…but then Jake would also have to admit to himself and you that maybe, just maybe, you should have moved on. 

“What would he say right now if he was here?” Jake settled on that question just to keep himself sane. He didn’t want to open yet another can of worms right before your surgery. This was all one big giant nightmare already, he didn’t want to make it worse. If anything, Jake kept pinching himself in secret just hoping that maybe he’d wake up on the couch and this cancer saga would all be some sadistic subconscious dream of his. 

He’d always been deathly afraid of not being good enough for you. 

“He’d tell me to do it,” you sighed as you let your head rest against the upright bed. “He’d tell me to be strategic about the battle, the war is the endgame.” 

“Exactly, one battle at a time, step by step,” Jake agreed with a cheeky smile. That signature Seresin smile you so effortlessly loved. “You’re not gonna hand in the white flag before the battles even really begins, are you?” 

“Kinda want to if I’m being completely honest with you,” you responded knowing Jake would appreciate the honesty. “But I guess you and the kids really need me to stick around, huh?” 

“Oh, I can’t even begin to explain how much we need you to stick around, honeybee.” it was as honest and as sincere as Jake could be. He wore his heart on his sleeve for you. He exposed every nerve he had just so you could dance your feather-like fingers across the tender strings that made Jake, Jake. 

“I’m so scared of being alone in the operating room,” you admitted as Jake leaned in to leave a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I’m so scared they won’t see me as a person,” It was an explanation that broke Jake’s heart even though he believed his heart couldn’t be broken any more. “That they won’t remember I’m me, that I have a life and a family and people who will miss me.” 

Over the course of our lives, our relationships ebb and flow. We get together, break up, move away, or fall out of touch. It’s prolonged periods of loneliness and toxicity that wreak havoc on our health, our brain function, and our longevity. 

“You’re never alone,” Jake replied softly as tears threatened to spill over his waterline. “I’m always with you, the kids are always with you, Jensen, your mum, everyone will be with you during that surgery, we’re gonna be waiting on the other side.” 

“I love you so much, Jake Seresin,” you smiled brightly through a tight-lipped smile Jake wished he could save in his mind’s eye forever. “Let’s win this battle.” 

“And the war too,” Jake replied as he reached for your hand, gave it a soft squeeze, and brought your palm to his lips. “Let’s fucking do this, Y/n.” 

*************************************

Jake sat waiting by the vending machine as he picked at the small single service-sized packet of original Lays he’d nearly had to beg the machine to drop. His watch told him it was almost nearing the end of your surgery. He wasn't stressed, not when your surgeon had been so hopeful and calming. Jake had spent far too much of his time recently worrying about the what-ifs. He wanted to focus on the now. And that now was the fact you would have been nearing the end of your surgery. Which meant soon enough he’d get to see you again. 

The only thing that kept Jake on his toes was the ever-looming doubt that perhaps the treatment plan wouldn't be enough. He hoped that you had enough fight in you to make it through the journey. He needed you to have enough strength to fight. 

“She should be coming out of surgery soon–” Jake explained as he held his phone up to his ear and tried not to chew so loud. “The kids know that Rooster is picking them up to bring them home to Grandma Maz’s house?” 

“Yeah, Mum’s not too happy about it but she won't keal over about it,” Jasmine replied as she watched her brother's kids play with hers in the backyard she and Jake used to make mud pies in. “Rooster messaged about an hour ago saying he was close, he shouldn't be too far away now.” Jas continued in her own little world. Jake was used to not being able to get a word in with his youngest sister. “I can't believe Y/n has fucking cancer–does her side of the family have a history or…?” 

“Not that we know of, it's just really bad luck, Jas,” Jake sighed as he let his head fall back against the wall his chair was pressed up against. “But hopefully with this surgery and the chemo, she’ll be able to beat it.” 

“Well, you tell her that I’m pissed she gets a boob job before I do,” Jasmine tried her best to keep the situation as light-hearted as possible. “Make sure she gets a good rack, not too small or too big, like a good handful that's just right.” 

“I'll be sure to let her know,” Jake smiled, he really could count on his sister for that. “Oh, I gotta go, I see Y/n’s surgeon.” Jake sat up in anticipation as anxiety flooded his nervous system. “Tell the kids we love them for me.” 

“Have been every day,” Jasmine replied quickly knowing her brother probably had his phone down from his ear by now. “Bye.” 

Jake was quick to pocket his phone and wipe the crumbs from his shirt as he stood to greet your surgeon. However, something seemed off about the man who had seemed so confident before your surgery. 

“Mr. Seresin–” 

“How is she?” Jake asked. He didn't mean to interrupt, but he needed to know first and foremost before any medical mumbo jumbo. “My wife, how’d the surgery go?” 

There was a very telling pause that accompanied the sober look that Doctor Morrison wore, but Jake tried not to read into it all that much. He knew you would be fine. 

Right? 

“Mr Seresin, your wife's heart was weakened by the stress of her recent stroke,” Doctor Morrison began to explain as Jake stood there expecting good news. “She, unfortunately, went into a cardiac arrest–” the air around Jake disappeared. Almost instantly, he felt as if he were floating in space. “We tried to revive her for the better half of twenty minutes while she was on the table,” There was a pause. A telling moment where reality and fantasy were trying to battle it out. Who’s version of events would win? When Doctor Morrison saw Jake’s mind short-circling with an inability to process the magnitude of information, he felt as if he needed to continue explaining the severity of the situation. 

“It was catastrophic, and I'm afraid we've lost her.” Doctor Morrison had told far too many loved ones over the years that they had lost family members, but never in all his years had he ever seen such immediate denial written in the lines on someone's face. “Mr. Seresin, your wife has died.” The words Doctor Morrison was saying were not sinking in as Jake stood there completely blind to the reality happening around him. “I’m so sorry for your loss–” 

“Uh–” Jake frowned as the confusion kicked in. “I'm sorry, you must have mistaken me for someone else. My wife was fine before she went in for surgery, she was fine.” 

“Yes, yes, your wife was fine, yes–” Doctor Morrison tried to keep his composure, but even after all these years the losses still hurt. It made him feel human to experience the emotions alongside the family members, but in the first few seconds of watching Jake Seresin spiral into a hole of denial that you were, in fact, gone, Doctor Morrison, knew this particular loss would haunt him for the rest of his career. 

Speaking slowly, Doctor Morisson tried once more to explain what had happened in a way that Jake would understand. “The stress of the surgery along with her recent stroke…her body just couldn't handle the stress. Her heart experienced a cardiac episode and we unfortunately couldn’t revive her.” 

The immediate silence between the two men was all-consuming as it was telling. Jake’s heart was breaking in two. 

“Is there someone I can call for you?” Doctor Morrison tried to be as empathetic as he could be, this part of the job was never easy. The part where he was tasked with telling loved ones that the people they loved had passed on his table. They were few and far between, but the people he did lose would forever haunt him. He could name every single one and their family’s name too. Jake Seresin would be a name Doctor Morrison would remember for the rest of his life and into the next. 

“Are you out of your mind?” Jake pushed back almost immediately as he tried to wrap his head around what he was being told. This didn’t make any sense, you were just here. You were fine. 

“No, Mr. Seresin I–” Doctor Morrison tried to explain again, but it was to no avail.

“I–Okay, I think you must be mistaken,” Jake wiped his hand on his jeans as he stepped back. “I just need to ge–”

“Mr. Seresin, please.” Doctor Morrison tried to stop Jake from leaving the waiting area, but Jake just stepped further back with a frown of disgust and grief. He was still holding his packet of Lays. 

“No, no can you just, can you back up?” Jake nearly growled. “Can you leave me alone?” Jake looked around as he tried to remember how to breathe. People were staring at him like he was in a zoo. A caged and cornered animal begging to be left alone. “Can somebody get this person to just give me some space please?” It was as heartbreaking as it was cruel to watch Jake walk down the hall towards where he knew your hospital room was. 

“Y/n?” He called out hoping you'd be back by now. “You won’t believe this guy, honey. He just–” The moment Jake rounded the corner and saw your hospital room empty with no sign of you, he stood still. All the air had been sucked right from his lungs as his eyes scanned the room. Your Christmas lights weren’t flashing, your bed wasn't made, and your laptop sat open with a black screen, but just where you’d left it. You weren't back. 

“Y/n?” Jake whispered under his breath as his eyes continued to scan the empty hospital room just waiting for you to appear from out of the bathroom or sneak up behind him. But Jake knew you weren't about to appear even though he wished for nothing more. 

“Oh–” One step, two steps, three steps, four. Jake didn't know where he was but he was on the move. He couldn't stay here looking at an empty room. He had to find where you were. “Oh god, no, no no no no no, please no don’t take her away from me.” 

“Jake!” The woman's voice Jake had come to know over the last few days broke through the fog that was clouding Jake's mind. He continued to stumble blindly down the ward. “I just heard,” Lydia explained as she rushed up to the man who she had come to know as your husband. “I'm so sorry, I wasn't expecting this to happen. I thought–” Lydia quickly reacted when Jake's knees buckled underneath him. 

“Woah! I need a little help over here!” Doctor Morrison was quick on the draw as he made his way over to where Jake now kneeled on the floor unable to breathe. 

“My wife–” Jake tried to talk as he hyperventilated. “Y/n!” he cried out for all to hear. “Y/N!” 

“She's gone.” Doctor Morrison had to make sure the fact was sinking in. 

“Oh Jake, I’m so sorry–” Lydia tried to console the six-foot-something man who had crumbled to his knees. “Your wife was an amazing woman.” 

Jake still couldn't believe it, he didn't believe it, and he wouldn't. The pain he felt inside his chest, the burning hot sensation was excruciating. He’d never felt such a feeling of grief mixed with denial and so much love. You couldn’t be gone. He was having a nightmare, wasn’t he? This wasn't real. He was dreaming. This was all one big dream. It had to be. It had to be a nightmare his subconscious had concocted. A nightmare where Jake lost it all. His biggest fears were realised. 

“I need my wife, I need Y/n,” Jake sobbed as Lydia kneeled on the ground in front of him just assessing his current state of shock. “I can't, she can't–no no no she's fine, please tell me she's fine.” 

“I'm so sorry, Jake,” Lydia confirmed what Jake wished so desperately wasn’t true. “She’s gone,” Lydia’s voice became distorted as she held the broken man in her arms. “You need to wake up before it's too late.” 

************************

Bradley Bradshaw was accustomed to losing the people he loved the most in this world. He’d lost his father, his mother, and his grandparents. For a while there he’d lost the only man who had ever slightly filled the shoes his dad left behind. But the loss of someone who was still there was something he’d never had to handle before. 

“Nat, he hasn’t gotten out of bed in days,” Bradley groaned as he cleaned up the kitchen. “The kids already lost their mother,” Bradley tried his best to keep his voice down, but the way little Lennox clocked Bradley from where he was sitting at the dining table made him realise he wasn’t one to talk on the quiet side. “They don’t need to lose their dad too.”

Jake stood just outside of Bradley’s eyeline, but he could hear everything the giant overgrown bird was saying. He couldn’t hear what Phoenix was saying but there was enough back and forth on Bradley’s behalf to easily fill in the gaps. 

“No. No, he hasn’t been down since the funeral.” Jake forgot how to exhale at the mere mention of your funeral as he hid in the hall. He couldn’t remember ever getting ready or speaking at your wake. He couldn’t remember who drove them or if the kids cried. He couldn’t remember hugging your mother or shaking your brother’s hand. Jake couldn’t remember any details about the flowers he’d organised or the people who were there. 

The anti-depressants weren’t helping. Nothing was. Nothing would. 

Until today, Jake couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. Without you, there was no point. He was begrudgingly okay with living a life in a world where you were still in it. But living in a world where you were no longer present wasn’t something Jake was willing to do. The kids would be fine with their grandparents. They’d be fine with Uncle Rooster. Lennox and Lucy and little Sammy didn’t need him. How was he supposed to look into their eyes and know he could never see the twinkle in yours ever again? 

“I’m really worried about him, Nat,” Rooster sighed as he held his phone up to his ear with his shoulder. He was working on making little Samy some banana pancakes. “As much as I want to, I can’t stay here forever, but he needs someone.” 

“No one is asking you to babysit me, Bradshaw,” Jake replied to the statement Bradley wasn’t expecting an answer to. “You can leave, trust me, I can drop the kids off with my mum.” 

Bradley stood stunned into silence as he watched Jake round the corner and into vision. He reluctantly reached for his phone and hung up as Phoenix questioned what was going on. 

“Hey man,” Rooster finally broke the silence as he watched Jake walk closer and closer to where Sammy sat in his high chair. “How you feeling today?” 

“Well, my wife’s still dead, so that’s something,” Jake replied with a sigh as he picked up Sammy and placed him on his lap. Lennox could see the look of pure admiration in his younger brother’s eyes as Jake hugged the smallest of the Seresin kids. “Seriously, you’ve done enough for us, I got it from here.” It was the biggest lie Jake had ever tried to tell not only himself but his best friend. 

“Uh,” Bradley wasn’t convinced. “Are you sure? I mean–I wanna stay as long as you need man,” Bradley tried to plead his case as Jake went about his business with Sammy. The business being nothing. Jake stood somewhat dazed and lost in the middle of the clean-ish kitchen. A kitchen he knew where nothing was. It wasn’t his. It was yours. 

“I think the kids should come back to North Island with me,” Jake opted to ignore what Bradley was saying. Instead, he decided to continue with a vague plan for what the future holds. A future he didn’t want to have with you. A future he didn’t care about. 

“You want the kids to uproot everything they know?” Rooster frowned as he looked over to where Lenny sat watching on. The kids were down, to say the least. Bradley could recognise himself in the permanent pout that had taken shape across Lennox’s face. The puffy eyes and saddened expression really tied the whole look of mourning together. They were just kids, they didn’t deserve any of this. “I don’t think you should be thinking about coming back to work anything soon either.” 

“I don’t need you micromanaging me,” Jake hissed as he held onto his youngest son, all the while his eldest watched on with concern for his dad. “I need you to go home, Rooster, we’ve got it from here.” 

“You don’t got anything, Seresin. Are you kidding me right now?” Bradley didn’t mean to come across as so defensive. But he’d seen Jake in this grief-fueled spiral long enough to know that his destructive and depressive mindset would end up causing more distress for the kids than intended. Jake was a good dad, that had never been questioned. Until now… Bradley wasn’t sure if his best friend could handle parenting three small children without a village to back him up. “The kids haven’t seen you in days–” 

“Would you rather them see me at my worst or not see me at all?” Jake’s grief was eating away at him. So much so that Jake began to wish each time he closed his eyes he’d get to stay with the version of you his mind had envisioned. “I’m fine, I’ve got it from here,” Jake sighed as he hugged little Sammy with all the strength that he had. “I wasn’t, but I’m fine now and I just wanna spend time with the kids.” 

“I don’t believe a word you’re saying right now man,” Bradley replied as he caught sight of Lucy coming down the hall. She’d been sleeping much like her father was. Great, all three Seresin children were present for their father’s impending breakdown. 

“Get the fuck out of my house, Bradshaw.” This hadn’t been the first confrontation Jake and Bradley had gotten into while Bradley had been staying in Rhode Island as the Seresin kid’s personal live-in nanny. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was becoming an almost everyday occurrence. The only difference this time was the kids were here to witness it. “I don’t need you here–”

“You aren’t thinking straight, just–how about the kids and I go for a walk or something and you sort yourself out? Have a shower? Shave? Drink something other than alcohol for–” Before Rooster could finish his sentence, Jake was placing Sam on the kitchen floor with a haste that didn’t sit right with Rooster. Lennox was the first to move from his chair. He was the spitting image of his father. 

“I don’t fucking care, Rooster!” Jake shouted at the top of his lungs. So loud and with such rage that the veins in his neck were popping as his skin turned a nice shade of ruby red. He took fast strides across the kitchen until Jake was standing toe to toe with his best friend. The very friend who’d been taking care of his children since before your passing. “I have to live the rest of my fucking live without the woman I love, so, cut me some godman slack before I knock your smug ass head from your shoulders.” 

Bradley didn’t move. He didn’t retaliate. He watched over Jake’s shoulder how his three children all cowered on the kitchen floor, scared of how their father yelled. Jake was oblivious to his surroundings. He couldn’t see the kids were struggling too. 

“Jake?” Bradley sighed as he placed his hands on either side of Jake’s face. “When the fuck are you gonna get through all this?” Braley asked softly as he remained calm. “When are you gonna wake up?” 

“Wake up?” Jake repeated as he pulled his face from his best friend's grip. “Wake up? Bradshaw, I died with my wife! There is no waking up from any of this!” 

“Maybe–” Bradley shrugged as he walked over to where the kids had been huddled together. It was only as Jake followed Bradley’s trajectory that he realised how much he’d scared his children. Something he never wanted to do. “There's always hope though.” 

“Kids,” Jake sighed as his tears began to fall. He dropped to his knees right then and there in the kitchen he wasn't familiar with. In a house that was now cold and dark without your constant radiating light to keep it warm and bright. “Guys, I'm sorry, huh–Dad didn't mean to raise his voice, he’s just–” Before Jake could finish his sentence, little Lennox was finishing his father’s sentence for him. 

“You’re just sick, dad.” 

“What?” Jake frowned as the kids made their way over to where Jake was kneeling on the tiles. 

“I said you’re just sad, Dad,” Lennox replied once more as he gave his dad a hug. “We’ll take care of you.” 

************************

December 31st 

Jake Seresin tried his best to hide the wet tears that fell down his cheeks as he sat with his kids on the lounge of the home that he had tried his best to keep as tidy as he could. There was a lot of uncertainty, a lot of frustration, a lot of fear and unbelievable sadness that surrounded Jake and your three small children. The unknown was truly tragic, terrifying and treacherous, but Jake wasn’t about to let his kids see the way he so desperately wanted to cry. 

Things had changed since Jake fell mind, body and soul into an unimaginably deep hole of depression. So much so that days had become to feel like one long dream. A paradox of grief and manic love. Your mother had told Jake to feel every ounce of emotion he had locked away. Maz had told him that grief was just someone’s residual love with nowhere else to go. 

Once Jake was able to understand that the pain of losing you was his love for you, he understood why it hurt so deeply on a cellular level. He understood why it hurt to look at the children he’d created with you. He understood why the kids had wanted to sit and open the small, still-wrapped Christmas present Lenny had found in Jake’s bag when he was looking for his dad’s wallet. 

Because it was one of the last things you ever gifted someone. It was one of your last acts on earth. 

“What did Mum get you for Christmas, Daddy?” Jake held the small present in the palm of his hand, the present he had yet to open. The present he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It felt like something he’d held before, the weight felt all too familiar. It haunted him the more he carried it around, held it in the palm of his hand and contemplated the inevitable. 

“I dunno buddy, you reckon I should open it?” Jake asked as he kissed his son's head. “S’not Christmas anymore.” The Naval Aviator had recently shaved his head, it had been the closest to a number one he’d ever had. It was in solidarity, union. A decision he made in the blink of an eye but one he did not regent or ever would. 

“We haven’t taken the tree down yet,” Lucy added her two cents into the conversation as she laid her head on her father’s thigh. “Mum would be upset if you didn’t open it, Dad.” Jake knew that much was true, you probably would be pretty bent out of shape if he never opened it. 

“Alright, I’d better open it then huh?” Jake shook the small perfectly wrapped box he could hold in the palm of his hand. He heard what sounded like a rock rattle inside. His heart nearly exploded inside his chest. 

Fuck….Jake knew what it was and he really didn’t want to open it. 

“Hey, Dad?” Lucy’s voice sounded completely different to anything Jake had ever heard before. She was looking right at him yet her eyes were trained on something one hundred miles away. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Jake replied just as he was about to open the present you’d given him before his life was turned upside down. 

“You need to wake up now,” Lucy’s voice sounded familiar, but it wasn’t her own. “You’ve had enough time here,” 

“What are you talking about Lu?” Jake frowned as he looked at his daughter. An extension of himself and you. “Lucy? Are you feeling okay?” 

“You’ll be a good dad soon,” Lucy smiled as she unwrapped the small ring box in Jake’s hand. The ring box that held what Jake assumed to be your engagement ring. But as little Lucy opened the wrapping, a blinding light burst through the cracks. A light so bright it forced Jake to squint. 

“Please wake up, honey,” Jake heard your voice clear as day as Lucy opened the ring box to send a piercing white light into the living room. Jake was completely captured by the light around him. So much so the entire room was drowned in a light so pure it was crystal clear. He couldn’t see a single thing beyond the all-encompassing white. 

“Please wake up for us,” again your voice was the only thing Jake could hear in the void he found himself in. 

“Y/n?” Jake called out into the void around him. He could feel his ribcage breaking like he couldn't breathe. Every breath he took was agony. “Hello?” Yet he could hear your voice. A voice he longed for. A voice he had to get back to. Jake had to get to you. 

“I’m here, you’re alright,” Jake once again heard your angelic siren song. His head began to throb. The feeling was agonising. Like there was no more room for swelling. 

“Where are you?” Jake called out as he stumbled in the light. The smell of burning flesh mixed with jet fuel overcame Jake’s senses. His need to get to you was more powerful than the deep bone ache he could feel in his legs. There was nothing on earth or beyond that would stop Jake from getting to wherever the hell you were calling him from. His entire body ached with a pain so unimaginable it sent him to his knees. Crawling, Jake cried out for you just one more time. 

“Y/n!?” Jake called out once more in a desperate attempt to find you in the void. “Kids?” 

“Here he comes,” Bradley’s voice echoed out as Jake looked up towards where he assumed the sky would be. The glare was too much. Jake placed his forearms over his forehead to soften the brightness. “Come on Hangman, don't leave us out to dry.” 

Some people spend their whole lives trying to make a dream come true. They set a goal and make a plan on how to achieve it. It works for some people. But for others, it’s not so easy. As hard as they work toward the dream, it can feel like the whole world has plotted against them. 

As someone gets further and further away from the dream, people begin to cling to any sign of hope. And the longer it takes and the more it costs…you start to consider whether you should give up. Do you find a new dream? Or do you stick to the one that started you on this journey in the first place? 

For Jake, things weren’t as black and white. 

As Jake closed his eyes and took one painful last breath in, he felt as if he’d fallen from cloud nine. When he opened his eyes, the light was still there….But he wasn’t.

Jake’s eyelids fluttered, the faintest hint of light creeping through the haze of his mind. He tried to move, but his body felt foreign as if it wasn’t entirely his own. The weight of unconsciousness clung to him, reluctant to release its hold. Slowly, he became aware of the sounds around him—

“Jake, It’s me, can you hear me?”

**********************

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[ririabeam]

𝗕𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗗𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

—

I drew this to cope with my birthday depression.

Took 5 months. I also wanted to beat my old manhwa from 5 years ago.

-- Long post ahead! It's my WIPS and thought process. --

Junko is my comfort character as she's the only character I know who hates her birthday.

(Screenshot from Ultimate Talent Development Plan)

I know she’s a villain who has done a lot of bad things, but finding comfort and liking her doesn’t mean I excuse her actions.

A lot of painful feelings went into this, even in Mukuro's perspective so please respect it 🙏🏻

—

- WIPS & Thought Process -

—

Story Script Writing:

A lot of thoughts and feelings went into my script.

-I removed sentences like “For giving me cake!” as I wanted to do more showing than telling.

-“Why do you seem so happy Mukuro?” is changed to “Why are you smiling like that, Mukuro?” as I wanted the sentence to focus more on the thing Ryoko noticed. Mukuro would definitely be happy celebrating Ryoko’s birthday, and the new sentence would help to understand how Ryoko interpreted that Mukuro was more happy than usual.

-“good day” is changed to “great day” for greater emphasis of Ryoko’s happiness.

-A pun is done on “live”, I wanted this sentence to convey the complicated feelings of Junko. She doesn’t want to “live” a “fabricated happy lie” as it goes against her honesty moral. But there’s also a part of her that doesn’t want to kill Ryoko, as she doesn’t want to “leave” this “fabricated happy lie”. She wants to be happy as Ryoko, even if it’s a lie.

This part is a big reference and a reply to Danganronpa Zero.

The background texts are quotes from Danganronpa Zero.

Junko saying “What the hell? Hope?” is a reference to Danganronpa Zero’s ending:

Reading Danganronpa Zero feels like it’s saying something to me: “We are trapped in a loop of despair and hope.” and I’m replying with this part as a “Yes, I agree.”

Junko being confined in her mind is another thing I like about her too. 

I feel the moment we are born, we are trapped, that’s why I ended this comic with “I wish I wasn’t born.”

The moment I’m born, I’m unwanted and worthless, a monster.

I’m trapped in my mind, in other people’s judgements and expectations, and there’s no way out.

I can’t just turn invisible and there’s always something for people to judge and hate. And that hurts when it’s something important to you or you can’t change about yourself.

But even with all the pain, I think of hope to carry on and it’s a loop to fight to live.

I think I make progress with healing but then I’d think wth I’m made to work on this. Cause my life is already scripted from the moment I was born— I’m scripted to have this trauma, this story made my personality and character so in the end I’m still trapped.

So that’s another reason why I find Junko a comforting character and why I feel birthday depression.

I thought of the story first before I thought of the characters who would play it, so I had to make sure it’s in character. 

Things like if Mukuro would say “AU” or “Alternate Universe”. I felt since she spent a lot of time with Junko who knows a lot about these things, she would have heard of this and know the short form term for it. Especially since she had to be Junko at some point.

Since it’s a story about Birthday Depression, my thoughts instantly went to Junko then to Mukuro. It was the perfect story theme to write for them especially cause they are the despair sisters. 

Plus, they are two characters I can feel their struggles and feelings deeply for, so I can write and draw deeply for this story.

Birthdays tend to be happy, and I felt the only kinda right time I can talk about my birthday depression would be on their day.

I felt suffocated and lost myself over the past few years, as I felt I needed to be happy no matter what. When I opened up about sadness and my struggles, people would hate and invalidate me for it. I feel my art reflects that, I don’t like looking back at my old art. It lacked my true feelings, but I feel I’m finding myself again in my Mirai Nikki and Danganronpa art.

For the past few years I tried to celebrate my birthday to try to make myself happy about it but in the long run it didn’t work. I appreciate everyone who celebrated with me all these years still, but now I’m trying to overcome it in another way— facing despair instead of trying to cover it with hope.

I think I’ve learnt a lot about myself and understood myself better through this comic’s process.

Layout Plan:

You can see that things were changed in the final from my layout plan X’D haha

In page 2, Mukuro’s 1st panel is changed so composition is better.

In page 3, after seeing Ryoko as Junko, Mukuro is reaching out her hand instead of placing it on her chest. I wanted it to feel like Mukuro wants to reach out to Ryoko at that moment, like trying to get a wish she knows isn’t real.

In page 5, binary code is replaced with texts from Danganronpa Zero’s story so it reinforces the idea of “a life already fully planned out”.

Lining Process:

I struggled with this part the most as anatomy and poses is not my strong point.

I asked my friend, Setsuya, for help with my poses and redrew the same pose many times for this comic. I really wanted to convey the feelings for this comic right especially since it’s very personal to me. Big thanks to her for helping me so much, I feel I improved a lot from this! 🥺 <3

1st panel of 1st page is the hardest to draw, I’m laughing at my first try of Mukuro who looks like she’s forced to be there 😂:

With suggestions from my friend of how to improve, I tried to improve everyone’s poses:

^ 

Mukuro’s pose was changed to look more fondly at Ryoko, happy to be there and relaxed haha.

Ryoko’s pose was changed to look more delighted and happy about the cake (Which helps to convey the line I removed from my script, “For giving me cake!”)

Matsuda’s pose was changed to look a bit more annoyed about still cares for Ryoko (shown by him still looking at her from the corner of his eyes even though his head is turned away)

And haha I forgot Ryoko’s legs can be seen due to the table frills being transparent, so I had to go back and draw her legs X’D

For this panel, a lot of thoughts went into what things I should place, how they are placed, and what kind of items it should be e.g.

I wanted it to tell the story of what happened before all the characters gathered here, what their feelings are towards each other, and how they are like as individual characters :3

I was thinking Mukuro and Matsuda love Ryoko so much they spoil her by buying a giant cake haha X’D So that’s why there’s a plastic knife instead of a real knife— to show that the cake was bought.

I think they decided not to cook as they would fight about it… (idk if they know how to cook tbh)

I chose strawberry shortcake cause white = purity and red strawberries = blood X’D Kinda like Ryoko-

I was about to draw neatly cut and placed cakes but I think... Ryoko is bad at cutting… X’D so the cakes are lying flat with the cream a bit splattered on their plates.

The table cloth, spoons and plates are all elegant and neat cause Mukuro prepared it for Ryoko :3 I don’t think Matsuda would be able to do that since he seems to not be a tidy person X’D but I do think he probably decided these items and arrangement with Mukuro :3

Here’s a random joke Matsuda + My roughly drawn Promised Neverland manga cover before I squeezed it on to his book haha:

I was going to make Matsuda read Megaman at first like in canon, but I felt making him read “Promised Neverland” was fitting as it helped me bring some foreboding to my happy setting. Like the promise never landed cause I’m going to break my happy promise/premise X’D 

I felt it was fitting too as Matsuda wasn’t met with a good fate like the Promised Neverland children.

Plus I feel Matsuda would like a genre like that, or perhaps he wouldn’t mind anything as he is a laid back character.

This pose was changed so Ryoko would look more reserved and have less of a romantic vibe? Cause the intertwined fingers felt a bit more romantic and off to me, as it wasn’t the vibe I was going for.

Feat. The paper sketch is my friend helping me with anatomy X’)

While writing sentences and drawing for Mukuro’s scenes, I was thinking of experiences I’ve gone through before and the feelings I felt then. 

The way I wished things could be different. I kept having dreams of happy endings I wanted to happen but then I would wake up to the tragic reality and cry.

The way I was suffering on the inside but still held on to this thing I perceived as “Hope” even though it was killing me and could be seen as “Despair” in another POV/or I already knew it was bad for me but it was also my only hope.

Symbolisms for this panel:

Carrying a candle-> holding on to hope/a wish.

Candle not blown out -> Mukuro's wish didn't come true (blowing out a candle means bringing your wish on smoke to the good spirits above to grant your wish) , her hoping leading to despair.

My pose was changed here as it is more natural for the hands to be like that, plus the other hand holding on to the arm greater empathise how Mukuro is holding on strongly to this candle.

The candle is melting and the wax is getting on her hand, burning her. Still, she refuses to let go which empathises how much she needs to hold on to this. Even as she grabs her own hand causing more pain from bleeding, she still needs this “hope.” 

Some colour tests for this panel:

I was considering blue fire because blue fire is stronger than red.... but then if it is a wish of hope, I was considering yellow too... but maybe it would be too happy? 

Mukuro is feeling sad and wishful in this panel. 

I ended up going for blue fire which gives off yellow light for a purposeful contradictory colouring— to show that what is perceived as despair can also be perceived as hope.

^ Some exploration for the poses here so I can figure out which conveys what I wanted to convey the best. I like the poses where Mukuro is reserved happy, Ryoko is more playful(?), Matsuda is more relaxed.

^ Exploration for the Junko slash pose. Ended up just going back to the original pose I had planned for the layout.

I found this super hard to draw as I’m not good at anatomy, drew it quite a few times and deleted as I couldn’t draw it right. In the end, my friend drew that pose reference which helped me get it right in final!

Reasons why I chose the original layout pose in the end:

Strangle pose-> I don't want to strangle Ryoko, not because it’s too violent or graphic or that she's 🥺uwu and I can’t kill her-

I just feel Junko doesn’t completely hate Ryoko... a part of her wants to live a happy life after all

But she can’t, that's why the words "A fabricated happy lie, I don’t want to live this!"

It's a lie and it's against her value (honesty).

Sword slashing pose-> Junko is directly jumping towards and has no hesitation slashing Ryoko. This feels off cause it’s too violent which doesn’t convey the message I want.

Sword is also stronger than knife, which would hurt more.

When I see the knife and how the body is twisted a bit away in the original layout pose, it works better as I can see some control to the slash so it's not full on hatred and anger towards Ryoko.

Random full drawing of this Junko before I cut it off for composition.

I find it easier to get the anatomy right if I draw the full thing and draw through everything.

^ I’m super sad at my failure for this :,) I didn’t intend it to be like that 😭 

It’s too hard for me to draw, so my friend helped me again and I chose a pose and studied her pose and drew the whole pose again:

I chose the 1st pose because the angle of the faces there best shows both character’s facial expressions and the emotions are the most important for this scene.

Plus 3/4 angle is better than the flat side view one as it helps make this scene more dramatic!

My friend helped me with the position of Junko’s tie:

reached max images for this post so,

WIPS continued in another post

[oimitocat]

SKZ REACTION TO….

….you taking a bullet for them

CHAN…. absolutely hates himself. he blames himself for everything. hates himself more than the company. if he’s already suffering from insomnia then let me tell you he fully cannot sleep. every time he closes his eyes he sees you bleeding out. he cannot and will not sleep until you’re recovered enough to come home and sleep with him in his bed. he’d still be too scared to sleep, clinging to you as you’re deep in your sleep, and if he somehow falls asleep he’d wake up immediately with sobs and making sure you’re alive next to him.

MINHO… cannot be away from you. his form of guilt is to make it up to you despite you telling him you’re fine and you did it to protect him. he won’t stop coddling but you knew he had mistaken love with guilt at some point. he already only shows acts of service as a love language but you felt like he was overdoing it. you hadn’t meant to start an argument about it but you did and he ends up crying saying he just wants to make sure you’re okay because seeing you walk and talk to him is better than seeing you on the floor bleeding out. he’s just suffering and having you close to him is how he’s handling it.

CHANGBIN… self isolates. he wouldn’t do that but he can’t bear to see you. he thinks you hate him until you finally leave the hospital and show up and kiss him better. he’s a big crier, so he sobs into your chest for a good while saying he’s sorry and saying you didn’t deserve that. dealing with the press was a nightmare and he didn’t want you to hate him for not seeing you in the hospital. silently hates himself until you find out and you ease him up again.

HYUNJIN…. won’t stop crying for DAYS. even when you’re out of the hospital. he’d self loathe even when you think he’s fine. he enters a depressive episode for a while, maybe one day smiling at you and the next self isolating from you. you’d wonder what’s wrong and at some point neither of you see each other but you can’t be without him and neither can he. he just wants to be assured that it will never happen again.

JISUNG… ah poor baby, his anxiety spikes and he gets absolutely paranoid. cannot go into the public eye for WEEKS because he’d think you’d get hurt again. you two end up going into a hiatus for a while and jisung jumps even when food delivery comes by. he cries at every single thing and begs you to not hate him for being so weak. your fragile baby, you assure him every moment and soon you two feel a lot better to go back out to the public eye.

FELIX…. also won’t stop crying for days. too scared to be away from you. his hate is towards his company because how dare they let this happen. always cries himself to sleep and you thought sleeping with him would help but he still cries in his sleep and wakes you up from his nightmares. he literally needs a lot of coaxing from you, doesn’t leave your sight. his attachment towards you gets extreme but you know it’s not for long. it hurts you to see him so paranoid and worried but thankfully it gets better.

SEUNGMIN… does not want to see you. he self isolates so bad, hates everything and everyone. he doesn’t know how to handle his emotions so he ends up being tense and lashing out at everyone. when you come back he accidentally lashes out on you but you never say anything- ending up with him crying his eyes out because he couldn’t do anything but be weak and hide in his room. you coax him into knowing you’re fine as long as he’s fine. i think after that he’d start to show physical affection a lot more.

JEONGIN… will not stop crying and hyperventilating. extremely paranoid and will not leave your side. he’d just stare at you for a while and end up crying. genuinely so fragile, you panic and worry a lot. he’d always say he’d sorry and you’d have to remind him it’s not his fault. does not want to enter the public eye for a good while and you don’t either. definitely enter a hiatus with you and won’t leave your sight either. he doesn’t get better until a lot later, but he still feels bad.

[blueteller]

Out of all the bad people in the story, i dislike Director Ma the most. Reading about krs sitting quietly in his chair trying to get a day off to see cjs & lsh hurt alot. Why do you think krs didnt do anything to get revenge on Ma?

Oh, I absolutely agree. Director Ma is THE WORST. The kind of emotional manipulation this man did to KRS? Disgusting. Utterly repulsive.

I was honestly so glad that it was OG Cale in the side-story and not KRS who heard him say... that, but unfortunately, the fact that Director Ma DARED to try guilt-trip OG Cale!KRS for taking a VACATION of all things, to his face, when we all know that OG KRS was a workaholic who rarely ever took days off? It means this sort of thing wasn't new. For all we know, this could have been a regular occurrence in the office. Not this line specifically, but this… general dismissal of KRS's feelings, while simultaneously taking advantage of his emotions and sense of responsibility. It's the "He's not even crying during a funeral" all over again. Those freaking monsters at the Company, how freaking dare they. Just thinking about it makes me angry.

Now, about your question. Why do you think KRS didn't do anything to get revenge on Director Ma?

I actually considered it in the past. We know Cale is someone perfectly capable of taking revenge and getting even. So why would he let this jerk get away with such behavior when clearly he had enough power in the Company to make a difference?

Here are some of my theories.

One, it could be that Director Ma was useful. You might remember, during the Sealed God's Test arc, Cale mentioned knowing the leaders of the shelters and remembering how he was used to asking them for help and cooperation in the past, with much struggle. Director Ma might have been one of many, many individuals that KRS tolerated "for the greater good". As long as he was only a jerk to KRS as a Team Leader and left his teammates alone, I imagine KRS did not think much about his own hurt. He was too practical. If Director Ma was evil like, let's say, Adin, and was planning harm to other people, Cale certainly would never let it go. But a common… jerk, for the lack of a better word? He could have shrugged it off easily.

Two, maybe it was because Director Ma was a senior. Cale is actually really, really Korean in that aspect. Multiple times in the story Cale had a habit of considering how he should treat his seniors. He even remarked about the White Star that "I don't care if he is a total senior, that guy is a crazy bastard from now on". So, the simple cultural habit of respecting his seniors could be at play here. Yes, Director Ma was way out of line with his words, but those were the words of a senior. So even if Cale understood that it wasn't fair to be treated like this, he might have felt obligated to accept it because of the traditional Korean values of social hierarchy.

Three, maybe it was a sense of helplessness. One of the moments that struck me really hard in the flashback when LSH & CJS died, was the fact that "no one told KRS to wipe his nosebleed". Once KRS lost all his friend, he felt isolated. Without anyone to defend him. Director Ma wasn't the only a**hole he had to deal with on a regular basis in the Company. Perhaps, due to his depression, KRS simply grew used to such disrespectful treatment until he accepted it as a norm. Which is really freaking sad, but I could see it happening. I really do think that transmigration snapped Cale out of a 10-year-long streak of depression and workaholism. …Well, maybe not the second part, heh.

Four, there could be complexities to his relationship with Director Ma. KRS worked over a decade in the Company, after all. Perhaps there was something in their history that made KRS unable to act against him. Blackmail, for example? I don't know what kind of blackmail would work on KRS of all people, but. Perhaps it was simply emotional blackmail. Maybe KRS felt guilty over being Team Leader, because the spot was meant to be inherited by CJS. Maybe Director Ma helped him in the past and KRS felt like he owed him. Who knows? 10 years is a long time.

Here, there's my answer. None of those reasons make Director Ma's treatment of KRS justifiable, of course. But it would explain how such a dumb person avoided getting utterly annihilated... Because we all know Cale could have done it with ease. But relationships between co-workers can be complicated, so.

...Let's all be glad OG Cale got to avenge KRS by simply being himself 😂

[joffyworld]

FURTHERMORE,

PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD,

IGNORE THE NUMBERS

They mean nothing.

One thing I forgot to mention is that there's this expectation some people I've spoken to have that if their post doesn't do its usual numbers of notes or comments or likes, whatever the platform you're on uses, then it wasn't "worthwhile" or people "didn't like it".

Dude. Bro. Girly. They. It.

Whatever notes you get, whether it's 10k or 1 is a genuine life touched. People don't come on here and reblog or share or like without having felt something. Okay, yeah, sure, maybe you didn't explode and reach 50 thousand people and they didn't all simultaneously explode from excitement.

BUT THAT'S OKAY.

Social media platforms are designed around algorithms to push content they assume people want to see. Quite frankly, however, these algorithms suck balls. Tumblr might be one of the better in terms of posts reaching audiences and old posts gaining recognition for a long time after they were posted, but it's still just a computer throwing shit on a screen.

I see, and talk to, a lot of artists that feel they can't OC post or that they have failed because "my usual audience size didn't all see the post I made" when there's a dozen things beyond their control that affect whether or not people even know they've uploaded. Here's a short list of shit that can affect whether or not your post is seen by the average joe:

Tags

Notes

Fandom or OC

Followers

Time of Day

The weather outside

The Algorithm™

Luck

Hype around a fandom at a given time

Trends

A total of ONE of these you can control, being the tags. You have literally no say whether your post does well or not, at it SHOULDN'T MATTER. As discussed in the original post, do art for you! These numbers are genuine people behind a screen that have felt touched by what you have made. It doesn't matter whether that's one person ever, or a million people at once. People were altered even in the smallest ways by your creation, whether it was a smile or a happy cry, and that's beautiful. That's what art is, an expression of self that others can find comfort in when shared. But the key words are "EXPRESSION OF SELF." Not what the audience wants, not what God wants, but what you want.

Let me put it this way:

If you open a hospital, and are used to treating a million people a day but then suddenly have a day where only 5 people show up in need of help, is that a bad day? Or is it just good that people didn't need help? One day they might and you'll still be there because hospital equipment doesn't just vanish into thin air one day.

Audiences will see your work when they need to, and when they don't they won't. There's no two ways about it, you're fighting impossible odds if you try to make it any other way. So just let it be, do art for you and fuck everyone else. Because ultimately, the only person you're fucking by doing otherwise is yourself, and the world does plenty of that for us by default.

So go ahead, OC post! Create porn! Create the most angst-riddled depressing shit you possibly can! Don't worry about whether or not it'll do numbers and blow up big, because it doesn't matter! All that matters is that you had fun, and every life you touch with your work is a genuine human connection made over impossible distances that otherwise would've never occurred. Even posting this I'm speaking to people all the way from China to Mexico.

Will they see it? Who knows! But it doesn't matter, as long as one person sees it then that's a good thing. If nobody sees it that's great too! It means nobody needed to, so the world didn't need more lecturing on how to be happy.

Live life folks. No matter who you are, someone loves you, whether they know it yet or not, whether you know it yet or not.

Thank you for coming to my inane rant, have a good day! :D

From,

Jofferson

DO ART FOR YOU! 🫵

FUCK EVERYONE ELSE!!!

Seriously.

I'm so sick and weary of logging on here and seeing creators I adore, and people I don't even know alike, apologising for not uploading or basically begging for a break like they're not a human with needs.

You're literally a human being, with thoughts, feelings and emotions. You're not an art factory, you're not some positivity pump, you're nothing other than a genuine human being living a genuine life experience.

SO GO LIVE IT!!!

YOU OWE THE INTERNET NOTHING!!!!

There should be, and realistically is, no shame in just fucking leaving if you want to. There's no contract you signed, there's no permit you bought or lease you hold. You're a person who decided to share their art with the world, FOR FREE, and garnered an audience of faceless people behind screens who enjoy that art because YOU wanted to make it and share it.

Let me be frank as best I can. You owe the internet nothing, you owe the world nothing and you owe yourself EVERYTHING. You are the only person who can live your life, you are the only person who can create the things you create and you are the only motherfucker that should matter to you when you create those things.

Art is supposed to be a wondrous joy that inspires the mind and indulges ideas that other creatures can't even comprehend. It's supposed to be a magical and fun fantasy land where anything is possible because you make it possible. It's not a 9-5 unless you make it one, so stop making your hobby a 9-5 unless you're getting paid for it, and even then put in limits because no job that you choose to do should end in you burnt out and wishing you'd never started in the first place.

Remember when we were all kids? When we all drew and wrote for fun simply because we could? We'd show people are shit and be like "Mama look!" and she'd clap her hands all proud. But she wasn't why you picked up that crayon, you just did it for you because you wanted to make some shit.

That's how it should be. That's how it is unless you let those fake ass numbers on a screen rule your life. It's all meaningless, the praise may be genuine but that doesn't mean you should spend your whole life running in circles and performing for an audience.

Be a human being! Be an artist! Fuck everyone else!

Just be yourself <3

[thelonelyshore-if]

Since its Christmas 🎄. It can be naughty if you want it to be 😜How would the Ro's spend it with Mc? Also what would they like as a present 🎁 and what would they give Mc?

Oooooh I love these!! Very festive haha. Answers under the cut because, as is typical of me, this got long. 🎄🎄🎄

Beck: doesn't personally celebrate Christmas, but their family does. Would prefer spending Christmas Eve with MC--getting drunk on eggnog, going sledding or skating, baking cookies and trying to frost them before they cool, staying up late and falling asleep after sloppily making out on the couch. Christmas day they'd probably pop in to see their family--at least long enough to give their nephew a gift--but would want to get out ASAP.

When it comes to presents they receive, they like cool clothes and anything 'exciting'. Make of that what you will. When it comes to giving, they're a very impulsive gifter. They tend to grab whatever reminds them most of MC and hope for the best. That, and they'd probably make MC their favorite desert c:

Croft: much like...every other holiday, Christmas depresses the hell out of Croft. They miss their family. Especially their mom. Still, if MC felt strongly about celebrating, they'd do their best. They are fond of bad, Hallmark-y Christmas movies, so they'd want to do a marathon with cocoa and candy canes. Something simple, that allows them to get away from their emotions for a little bit.

For gifts they receive, Croft is quite picky. They like accessories and anything to do with the occult, but they don't feel like they need anything. Whatever they want, they buy for themself, so they don't really enjoy receiving gifts. Also, they will readily accept presents for Bones as presents for themself lmao. Give that cat a sweater and Croft will be thrilled.

They're a very thoughtful gift-giver. It's their love language. They get frustrated that they can't splurge on MC the way they would in the 'real world', but would still pick out the exact thing they think MC wants, and wouldn't hesitate to spend a ton of money on them.

Jay: oh, they'd want to go the whole nine yards. They love Christmas and any other holiday that lets them spend time with family. They also grew up Catholic, and while they're neutral on religion these days, Christmas mass is kind of a big one. So they'd want to spend Christmas Eve solo--just MC and them--doing romantic stuff. Exchanging gifts, hot cocoa, Christmas music, maybe go ice skating? And then Christmas morning they'd go to mass with their mom and sister (MC is invited, but Jay would 100% not expect them to come, or feel bad if they didn't). Christmas day would be a big celebration with their family and MC (and, I guess, Willow would be invited eventually lmao).

For presents, if you got them a dog they'd be the happiest person in the world lol. They also like anything 'practical'--a new pocket knife, a winter prep kit for their car, etc. They're kind of boring. That being said, new mystery novels or audio books would be great! Jay isn't as obsessive over finding the perfect gift as Croft is, but they're pretty observant. I think they'd spend a good amount of time listening to MC and trying to figure out something that they'd really want.

Perri: Christmas would be a hard one for them, for different reasons than Croft. Honestly they'd prefer to keep it kind of quiet. Making dinner together on Christmas Eve, exchanging gifts, just spending quality time together. They do really enjoy Christmas lights, so I think they'd like to also drive around town and just look at all the pretty lights. Christmas day they'd feel obligated to pop in and spend some time with their grandmother. It would be terse and short and awkward. But, that night, they would do a 'Christmas Ghost Story Spectacular' on their radio show, and they'd love MC to be a part of that!

Perri is pretty easy to shop for, because they're content with lots of different stuff. They like fun accessories and clothes, books and movies, comics, gadgets/toys, music ofc, even funny gag sort of gifts tbh. Anything that makes them smile. When it comes to giving, Perri would make MC the most carefully curated mixed tape imaginable. And also would probably buy them something small and sweet and thoughtful.

Ravi: would need to be reminded that Christmas is even coming, the man doesn't pay attention to holidays for the most part. That being said, he'd enjoy spending time with MC! He likes an excuse to get cozy and to keep MC all to himself, without any expectations to leave the house lmao. Probably would want to make dinner together on Christmas day--something over the top, especially just for the two of them. Would hang mistletoe to give him an excuse to keep stealing kisses. It would be quiet and romantic, if he had it his way.

Ravi hates presents, and doesn't ever want anything. He's a giant pain to shop for because of this. He'd appreciate something homemade--he'd find it thoughtful--but would be the type to say that spending time with MC is gift enough. You might be able to get him a puzzle or some yarn, though, and he'd be appreciative. He also, to be honest, kind of sucks at buying presents. He panics. So he'd straight-up ask MC what they wanted and buy that exact thing, or maybe knit them a scarf.

Yasmin: absolutely 100% throws a big Christmas Eve party at her house. The woman loves a party, and has a lot of friends who would rather be together than either a) alone or b) with their families. So she'd want MC there with her, to co-host and also just to be together. Get drunk, play some Christmas-y games, get a little silly with it. She'd kick everyone out eventually, though, so that she could have MC all to herself. Christmas day she'd want to spend one on one, enjoying one another's company--maybe with movies, definitely with Christmas music.

When it comes to gifts, she's pretty relaxed! There's lots of stuff she enjoys, and as long as it's clear that MC put some thought into it, she'll be happy. She likes candles and jewelry and books. As for giving gifts, Yasmin buys everyone books. Every year. She tailors said book to the person, of course--a cookbook, a guide to a hobby you've been talking about picking up, the newest novel by your favorite author--but you're getting a book. She might splurge a little bit for MC, though, since they're her partner ;)

[badomensgoodomens]

BAD DECISIONS

CHAPTER FIVE

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Merry christmas!!!! haven't touched bad decisions in a while because ive been hella busy, but wanted to get this out before christmas. enjoy!!

taglist at the bottom

Sunlight poured through the cracks of the floral and fading curtains, illuminating Noah's sleeping form on the bed. The room was nostalgic, filled with memorabilia from his teen years, and even his first guitar. Across the hall was Nicholas’s old bedroom, the two seeking refuge here during every work break. As the town gradually transitioned into winter, the apple trees in Nicholas’s parents backyard began to lose their leaves. Christmas was approaching rapidly. 

Christmas was a particularly hard time for Noah, his strained relationship with his family being the cause of that. Sherene welcomed him with open arms during Christmas, always buying him gifts. Her kindness was very apparent in Nicholas as he grew older,   mother like son. She made a mean mint hot chocolate, and always made it a mission to bring Noah and Nicholas one every morning. 

For Y/N, Christmas was the absolute worst time of the year. No matter how hard Nevada and Dawn tried to make December enjoyable, the memories of growing up in a dysfunctional household had left a mark that couldn’t be easily erased. The holiday, meant to bring joy and warmth, only served as a bitter reminder of everything Y/N wished they could forget.

She poured her feelings into journals – a common christmas present for her. Even when life felt right, it still was such a melancholic period of her life. Her mornings were spent sitting on the windowsill, watching the snow fall. 

Sitting beside her was a pile of letters, a series of festive cards from distant relatives. Almost all of them asked ‘how are your parents?’ It seems as though her parents couldn’t acknowledge the fact they abandoned their children, much less let the rest of the family know. Tired hands scribbled relentless harsh poetry into a leather-bound book, words poured out as tears streamed down her face. 

Most Christmases ended like this, and birthdays too. 

Christmas eve she spent sitting in bed, staring at the wall. The boys gave her time off work for Christmas, mainly so they could spend it with their own family. Instead of putting up decorations, or wrapping presents or making cookies, she soaked her pillows with tears. 

It wasn’t like she necessarily had a reason to cry, seasonal depression was a real bitch. Therapy wasn’t helping anymore, the ‘urges’ were still there, it was like a hole in the heart that could not be fixed. The city was still, for the first time in a long time. 

The clock read 12:00 am. 

The ringing of her phone made her jump out of her skin, eyes wide, once full of tears. Glancing down at the phone number, immediate recognition filled her body. She could recognise that number anywhere, the same number that used to call her every evening, asking her to come over. 

She fumbled with her phone, shaking fingers struggling to unlock it. Her body froze, contradicted between accepting or declining. It disappeared just as quickly as it came, her breathing slowed down. With shaky hands she pulled up her chats with him, sobs wracking her cold body. 

Merry Christmas, please don’t call. 

Read 12:02 am. 

NOAHS POV 

Fuck. that was a complete accident i didn’t mean to call her. 

I’d almost forgotten about her, completely wrapped up in my own life. It was dark, I was tired, and her name was right next to Jolly’s contact. The soft sound of rain echoed through my childhood bedroom, the window cracked ajar. I would most likely catch a cold considering it was the peak of winter, but the freshness kept my anxiety at bay. It was roughly the 3rd night I'd spent, staying up until midnight doing nothing. What's one to do without someone to hold close? 

Matt had found this really cute girl who works at a record shop, nicholas was still head over heels for ivy, nick was all over his neighbour, and jolly liked some redhead. It was almost like I was falling behind, I mean I'd always considered poppy an option, but that girl gets into too much controversy for my liking. With a sigh, I pulled up my notes app. The screen brightness was blinding, but I typed out some 2025 new year's resolutions. 

Get over this train wreck 

Find a new girl to cry over

I fell asleep quickly after that, not even bothering to plug my phone in, just letting whatever depressing song that was playing drown out the ridiculous thoughts flooding my mind. 

The next morning I woke up to Nicholas pounding on my bedroom door, rousing me from my slumber. I fumbled to turn the music off, smooth my hair over and open the door. “Hey man, you look like shit. C'mon we need to head into town.” I shut the door with a groan, heading towards the ensuite. Turning the shower on, hot steam filled up the room, fogging up the mirror. A random sleep token playlist on shuffle echoed through the green tiled bathroom, accompanied by soft humming as I shampooed my long hair.

The smell of citrus lingered in the confined space, long after I had gotten out of the shower, mixing with the scent of my cologne. I sat on top of the bathroom counter, tying my shoes when Nicholas walked in, mumbling about buying Ivy the perfect present. Downstairs you could hear the clatter of Sherene’s utensils as she prepared for this evening's Christmas dinner. The familiarity of it was soothing, but as I got older Christmas started to lose all meaning. 

NEUTRAL POV 

The two of them cruised into the small, snow ridden town. It was rather busy for Christmas morning, small families bundled up in winter coats, rosy cheeks and presents in hand. It was bitter sweet, remnants of noah’s broken family threatened to still linger, but noah brushed them off. It took Nicholas approximately two fucking hours to pick a present for ivy, why he didn’t buy one earlier was beyond noah, especially considering ivy would be arriving THIS EVENING. He blames it on how long TDOPOM to produce, but we finished it a month ago, and it was on its way to be released. 

Eventually Y/N returned to work, needing the money more than anything, the atmosphere was sluggish and quiet, winter still being in full effect. She sat at her desk, replying to some angry emails from suppliers and whatnot, occasionally glancing outside at the snow fall. Soft music echoed through the intricately decorated office as she drew up some plans for the new album, her tongue sticking out slightly as she focused. Vessel, who unbeknownst to y/n, had been leaning against the doorway, cleared his throat. She yelped, turning around to face him, “what?!” “will you be able to work on feb the 25th?” he asked, stepping further into the room. “Uhh, hold that thought,” she replied, flicking through her phone. “Yeah i’m free, why?” He pulled out the chair next to her, sinking down into it. “Me and the boys got invited to Bad Omens release party for their new album. I'd bring you as a plus one, but we don’t have any extra staff to run the place other than you.” he explained, resting his hands on the back of his head. “No thanks, don’t like that band,” she waved him off, turning back to her drawing pad. 

“How come?” Vessel asked, straightening up. The air in the office was seemingly thick, awkward silence filling the air. “I don’t fuck with the main dude,” she responded vaguely. He quirked a brow, “come on, spit it out.”

…

“Quite the story if i do say so myself,” Vessel laughed, standing up from his spot. “Have fun though!” she called out as the door clicked shut. She turned back to her computer with a grumble, pulling up facetime and calling her sister. 

“Who the FUCK is natasha??” Her hurried typing fills the room, accompanied by her sister. “Wait wait wait have you seen the drummer hes really cute,” “who?” “his names nick folio” “okay i’m searching him up now” 

“OH MY GOD NEVADA IVE MET HIM BEFORE” 

“OH EM GEE WHERE?!?!” 

“AT WORK!!!”

“OH MY GOD SURELY HE’LL COME BACK AND I CAN GET HIS NUMBER AND-”

“WHO THE FUCK IS NATASHA???!!!!”

hi cuties!! How is everyone??

taglist @emluvsuxo @lacy1986 @lilcrazy011 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @briefpersonenemy @niicolelynn @looney-goose @sister-sebastian @dominuslunae @supersquirrel1996 @jilliemiw86 @amelia-acero @littlebear423

[yourstrulyrika]

authors note: it may be reaally rusty sorry about that !! it’s christmas and i spend it alone, so i wanted to write something, and whats better than leon fic? it’s quite short, sorryy

included in fic: fem!reader x leon, piv, cunninglingus, really sweet, re4 leon, you’re in a relationship with leon ♡ small angst at the beginning, not much talking in this one

Leon never really celebrated Christmas. why would he, when he didn’t have anyone? he actually felt more depressed around that time.

that is, until he met you.

you’re his sweet girl, his everything. when you two started dating, Leon was so hesitant about everything. what if you think he’s too depressing to be around? what if you’re with him out of pity? but, you showed him that maybe it’s not so bad to let your beloved in. maybe it’s okay to rely on someone.

and leon is grateful. so, so grateful.

you make it all better for him.

and finally, he has enough energy to give you the love you gave him back. it’s not your first time, but it’s the first time Leon isn’t tired. he loves you and he likes making love to you, but he struggled to give you what you deserve for such a long time. he finished too fast for his standards at least, because he didn’t feel well mentally. you never forced him, always reassured him, but it was still lingering in his mind. he wasn’t doing enough in his head. and it really bugged him.

so this Christmas — this special day, he goes all out. he prepared everything. the lights, the atmosphere, the temperature to make sure it’s not too cold for you. the whole day, he’s been on his knees. literally, because he can’t pull away from your sweet pussy. he’s addicted. he’s so dedicated to you that you can’t think properly anymore, yet he’s not stopping.

he started with gentle licks, then sucks, switching from fast pace to slow pace, studying your body to see what’s getting you going the most. his tongue circles your clit, fingers teasing your entrance. he’s rock hard, but he’s so obsessed and pussydrunk that he does not give a damn. all he thinks about is having you creaming his tongue. he sets up a steady peace until you’re coming all over his face, until his face is covered in your nectar. you want to return the gesture, to stroke his cock till he’s coming all over your hand, but he gently moves your hand away.

“let me focus on you, yeah? it’s all about you. your pleasure is mine, too.”

words are not a strong suit of Leon’s. quite the opposite. but he always tries to show you that he means what he says. and today, it’s by making sure you see starts.

he wants your eyes on him and him only, and that’s why he puts you on your back, pressing a small kiss to your forehead. as always, his hand is on yours, just to reassure himself you’re real. it’s a comfort for him. he makes sure you’re not overstimulated before he teasingly taps the tip of his cock against your clit. sliding in, he lets out a quiet groan, squeezing your hand tight. you’re just so warm and you feel so good, it makes his head spin.

his movements are slow but deep, hitting all the right places while he keeps eye contact with you. he’s so deep inside you, it’s almost overwhelming, but he’s got you. giving you kisses all over your face, but never stopping his thrusts. he’s observing you and your reactions, trying to see if you’re overstimulated or not. but you seem to love how he’s moving inside you, so he smiles. he aims for that special spot that makes you arch your back so sweetly for him, and when he finds it, he’s blessed with the sight of you in so much pleasure. it’s all he ever wanted really.

your pussy is making him see stars, too. the way you’re squeezing him, desperately trying to keep him inside. he’s not pulling out, he wants to make sure your mind is absolutely blank before he finishes. his hands go to your thighs, pushing them up so he can get deeper into you. your eyes roll back, pussy gushing around him, and he plays with your clit until your thighs shake. you’re so close, and he’s all there for it. he’s pushing his pace a bit faster just to give you everything he can, until you come around him. and even then, he keeps going, helping you come down your orgasm. when you’re satisfied, he pulls out of you. he made you cum so many times before he actually slid in, so he gives you the best aftercare he can. he doesn’t want you to be sore in the morning.

he gives you a warm bath, washing your back and covering your face with kisses. he’ll give you his gift tomorrow, when you wake up. for now, he’ll let you sleep, but not before he whispers a quiet “I love you”.

merry christmas everyone !! i wrote this and it kinda sucks but i tried to write something to ‘relearn’.

love u !

[billysgirllol]

“you’d do that for me?” what a kind gesture when she was just trying to tame the knots in her hair because she felt embarrassed for them, it’s enchanting when one person can notice something without even sayin’ a thing— especially when it’s a tic of hers because she does care about her appearance and she’s self consciously always trying to tame her hair. she just really despises the way her mind has to go straight to jumping to paranoid conclusions, what if he tries drowning her? all these nice acts.. just to lead her to a horrible death like that. she can feel the suffocation of water caving in on her just thinking about it as the paranoia caves in. and then, all at the same time, battling a conflicting and contrasting feeling of being defeated at these soft touches of his hand against her back. the kind-touch deprived version of herself, giving all in and wanting to believe the kindness is real, feeling deeply vulnerable in the way she has never clawed after this feeling like she has now wanting to become an emotional storm just because of a back rub and wanting to be babied so much when usually it’s her who does the babying for everyone else. that makes her feel like she really is dying, when all she resorts to now is crying and wanting to be babied more than anything. “thank you. i sure would like an’ appreciate that.” lucy gray answers, keeping her eyes rested. holding off on the stew sounds better, for sure. maybe a bite of bread could work for now to maybe settle some of the nausea. “i could go find a few sticks? maybe, to use as a brush.” to get some tangles out of her hair before it gets so bad off the only choice she’d have is to cut it and that’d be even more detrimental when she really values her hair despite this depressed state of mind saying otherwise.

body rummages under blanket before coming to the surface, gently pushing the blanket off her face but staying in her cocoon shoulder to toe. his hand cold from being outside creating a bunch of shivers to scatter through her bones as shoulders tensed when his palm touches her forehead. skin temp diagnosing no fever, other than the warmth caused by all the blankets she’s had herself nestled in. “good. i slept good. i guess so good, i don’t want to come out.” giving a sleepy smile despite feeling like that’s mostly what it is, her mind doesn’t want to move. feels like it’s holding a ton of sad weight that doesn’t want to lift, the mind is what kills the body first after all. wishing she did feel like sunshine, wishing she felt that way more than anything. trying to brush back her curls, self consciously trying to look preventable, despite her finger tips getting stuck in matted hair. “you made food?” melodic voice more quiet and groggy as she speaks up after a long sleep. not that it sounds appealing to her stomach right now. but it’s the gesture she’s shocked about. “alright, yeah.” no, but she doesn’t have the heart to just say no after he did all the effort. “i might not go eatin’ right away, but you can leave it to cool… i haven’t woken all the way up yet.” as embarrassing as it might sound since he’s already spun circles around her, her healing wound causing her leg to feel sore, hating that too. the songbird nestles back into her nest, lying on her side under all the warmth, self soothing the soreness and her nausea by rubbing her cheek against her pillow and resting her eyes again.

[slum-eater03]

A DRUNKEN KING |radioapple|

genre: angst + fluff, angst with happy ending

dynamic: drunkard mess x sober sadist

summary: lucifer finds himself getting drunk at the hotels bar till late at night with angel and husk. only for alastor to find him and wish for blackmail on the drunk king. but it ends up being a more deep, flutter induced conversation rather than blackmail material.

word count: 2.6k

word count for actual fanfic: 2.5k

warnings: heavy cussing, major alcohol abuse, abandoned lover, mentions of depression, not reread (sorry for mistakes ) slight ooc, and mentions of sex.

[this is also posted on AO3 + tumblr under the same title]

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A DRUNKEN KING |radioapple|

one drink turns to two, two turns to five, five turns ten, ten turns to twenty, then the drinks stop counting. the drinks continue flowing, never ending. the drinks numb the pain, the drink cancel his feelings, the drinks help.

even though it took twenty-three drinks for him to finally feel a little dazed. it took many drinks for him to start slurring, took even more for him to start hiccuping and being all giggly.

and of course, only at that moment, do the sinners that occupy the seats near him feel relaxed enough to talk.

“you ever sleep with a man, handsome?” the spider demon slurred just a little, a little tipsy himself.

the king leaned his head up from his crossed arms on the bar counter, “sleep with a man? why would i do that when i have a wife to do so?”

“oh shit! you’re married?” the pink demon said with eyes wide.

lucifer stayed staring at the demon before slowly looking in front of him, “yeah, maybe, i don’t fucking know.”

“that sounds complicated,” the bartender muttered with his rough tone.

lucifer nodded his head to the side, humming in agreement, “you’re preaching to the choir, cat man.”

after the many drinks shared, husk has gotten used to the drunken nickname.

“how the fuck do you not know who’re your married to, toots?” the spider demon leaned near lucifer.

lucifer shrugged in a lazy, drunk way, “i haven’t seen her in, well, i don’t fucking know,” he chuckles but no humor occupied it.

“she.. left you?” angel said with a quirk of a brow.

lucifer gave a drunk sneer, “as if we were never a thing, like we didn’t *hic* have a fffffucking kid together!” as lucifer spoke the more he sat up, a sad grin toying his mouth. his sharp teeth showing in a proud way.

“shit man, why’d she leave?” angel felt bad for the fallen angel, but at the same time was curious. i mean, who leaves the king of hell and lives to tell the story?

“hey man, when you find out, could you tell me?” lucifer asked as he peered over at the demon before taking another swig of his drink, “i just know i woke up and she was gone..” he muttered. he leaned his head down, “i waited so long for her.. so fucking pathetic.”

suddenly, angel didn’t feel so tipsy. he looked over at the short demon, whom also made eye contact with the pink demon, before the two went back to looking at the king. angel sat straighter and husk stood awkwardly, he could barely cheer up angel, who is a low ranked nobody, no way he could do the same with the king of hell.

“ey, uh, sorry sweets, must be hard,” angel muttered, understanding the seriousness of the situation at hand.

“why are you sorry? you didn’t fucking leave me,” lucifer muttered, “ah shit, *hic*, i miss her so much, so ffffuckinnggg much.”

“who do you miss?” both husk and angel jumped in surprise at the newly arrived voice, yet lucifer stayed still, stuck in his mind filled with memories of the beautiful woman he loved.

lucifer’s face slowly went back down to his arms, resting his face and snuggling into his white clothing further.

“uh, he’s a little tipsy right now, cutie pie,” even though his sentence looks like his normal tone, angel sounds more down, more sullen, weary for the king himself.

“ahh, that did not answer my question!” alastor says with a cheery voice, static breaking through it multiple times.

husk rolled his eyes as he cleaned one of the many glass cups the king drank from, “he’s talkin’ bout his failing marriage.”

“i see! what a common drunken confession!” alastor went quiet and his red eyed stare traveled to the drooped over king whom had slumped shoulders and a still body.

“yeah, i think failing isn’t the right word, kitty,” angel taunted as he leaned back in his seat, crossing his long leg over the other, “the marriage is over, no savin it, toots,” angel added.

“shove it in my down my fucking throat why don’t chu? *hic*” the king of hell muttered, though it was muffled as his face was tucked into his arms.

angel rolled his eyes slightly, “i don’t need ta, you already know it, handsome.”

“ffuckkkkk youuuuu,” the king slurred slightly as he leaned up and gave angel a pointed finger. lucifer poked angel in his chest twice before his angry face fell into a more sullen, sadden one, “but you’re, *hic*, right. it is.. over between me and her..”

“as if, you’re practically a kicked puppy, abandoned by its owner on the side of the road,” angel rolled his eyes and soon moved his attention to the bartender. he leaned against it, “when you’re done with this, wanna hang around my room for a bit? i’ve got a fun game we could play,” angel winked.

husk grumbled and rolled his eyes before turning around and placing the stacked glass cups he had cleaned and dried into their rightful places.

“that doesn’t sound like a no, kitty,” angel added, leaning closer towards husk.

“shut up, or else it will be,” husk looked over his shoulder and threw a mean glare at angel before turning around and finishing his job.

angel barked out a laugh, “my lips are sealed, toots.”

husk rolled his eyes, and somehow angel sensed it.

but while the two were stuck paying only each other attention, the other two guys were doing their own thing.

lucifer looked down at the counter, his arms now hanging at his side. he missed his wife. he missed her so much that it hurt physically. he could still see her. he closed his eyes softly and he saw her there. just in arms reach.

she gave him a soft smile, her eyes dazed with love and warmth as she stared at him. he looked down at himself, he was holding a baby. his baby. his little charlie. the little baby giggled and toyed with a fallen piece of blond hair from his head and he felt a smile form warmly on his face.

he peered back up and he looked at his wife again. he took in her image, her beauty, her love. the way she stood with her sleep clothes still on, a baggy shirt lucifer had stolen to wear multiple times, a pair of shorts the king was sure was his own, and socks that gripped her feet in a soft way.

her hair was messy, strands fell to her face and he felt the need to go to her, to tuck them back into place, to place his own soft kisses on her cheek and forehead and tell her good morning and how much he loves her.

but then his eyes open. she’s gone. he looks at his arms, the little bundle of giggles and warmth is gone. he’s alone. he stares at the cold counter before sighing.

the alcohol was getting to him, he’d never be like this in front of people, much less alastor. but he hasn’t really noticed alastor. i mean, the deer demon hadn’t shown himself to the king, how should lucifer know he’s there?

but then alastor does show himself.

“penny for your thoughts, your majesty?” the way he said your majesty, it wasn’t sarcastic, but it wasn’t dripped with adoration or loyalty, just a nickname. alastor said it as if he had said luci or lou.

lucifer turns his head to the demon that now occupies the seat next to him. the king has to crane his neck up a bit in order to actually see the antlered demon.

“what?” lucifer slurred, not really understanding what alastor had said.

“i’m asking you what you’re thinking of, especially in your drunken state,” alastor rephrased.

“i- i don’t know, man,” lucifer said in a sluggish way as he turned his head back to the counter.

“come on, spill it, your majesty. i don’t think i’ve ever seen you drunk, i guess there is a first time for everything,” alastor shrugged, wanting to abuse this moment, wishing lucifer would talk and spill stuff for alastor to use as black mail.

“i’m not duckin drunk,” lucifer growled a little, he wasn’t drunk, he couldn’t be drunk.

“well, you did just say ‘duckin’ instead of the other word, lucifer.”

“common mistake, you deer headed sinner,” lucifer muttered.

alastor sighed, “i see, you are definitely not drunk and is definitely in the right mind space,” alastor rolled his deep red eyes.

a grin formed on the kings mouth, his pointy white teeth showing proudly in a giddy way, and he sits up, leaning backwards just enough where he doesn’t fall on the small stool.

“right, see you learn *hic* pretty quickly, uh, what’s your name?”

alastor gave him a blank look, “we’ve been working together for a little bit, i don’t know if i should be offended or not, sire,” this time when he said the nickname, a sort of venom spilled into his tone.

lucifer rolled his eyes, “fine fine gregory, anyways, you got a bed i can get to? this seat is hurting my ass.”

“what a royal pain the ass you are, your majesty,” alastor grinned, but in a sarcastic, blank way.

“uh, yeah yeah, sure, *hic* anyways, you got a bed george?”

“i do, just not one you are allowed to sleep in,” alastor said in a tone of obvious.

“for someone, *hic*, calling me ‘sire’ and ‘your majesty’, you seem to suck, *hic*, at being a servant,” lucifer leaned close to alastor, making alastor lean back to keep a good distance.

“that’s cause i’m no servant,” alastor brought his red ripped hand up and pressed his pointer finger into the kings chest, causing the fallen angel to move back in a very easy, very sluggish way.

“i’m just a simple, ‘commoner’, who resides in your, ‘kingdom’.”

“same fucking thing, you loser,” lucifer said as he titled his head to the side and stared up at the much taller being.

“it actually isn’t, your majesty, anyways, this talk has gotten no where, i am going to return to my room,” yet the way he said it was a more joking, showing off style.

alastor was teasing the drunken, confused king.

“room? can’t i just take yours for tonight, gilda?”

alastor sighed as he stood from his seat, “call me my name, and i’ll let you take my bed,” though alastor wasn’t going to give up his bed either way.

“whaaaaat? why does a king like, *hic*, i have to remember a servants name like yours?”

“so you can get my bed, of course,” alastor tilted his head, his smile widening and eyes crinkling at the corners.

“huh, you are, *hic*, definitely not a good servant, harrison.”

“wrong! that is not my name, your majesty, guess you don’t get my bed,” alastor taunted, he wanted a good reaction, a reaction that will make him not regret ever going to the bar where he knew the king would be.

“uh, lucile? you look, *hic*, like a lucile with that haircut,” lucifer spoke as he leaned to the side so he could see alastor’s hair cut all the way.

“is that good or bad?”

lucifer paused, staring at his even hair, then his eyes dragged to the long, pointy ears that could play off as hair on the top of alastor’s head.

a soft smile forms on lucifer’s mouth as his eyes drag to meet alastor’s.

“i knew a lucile.. in heaven, very sweet, nice, her hair was always pretty. it’s,” he pauses and looks at alastor’s hair once more before meeting his eyes again, “you have pretty hair, alastor, it’s a good thing, like a, uh, *hic*, compliment of sorts.”

alastor paused as he stared at lucifer. alastor felt warmth form in his cheeks and he felt his ears slightly twitch and his fluffy, deer tail wag just got a second.

after a few seconds, his tail wagged again, and again, and alastor’s lips start to tremble while trying to maintain its evil grinning form.

“you, uh, i see you remembered my name!” alastor pointed out, trying his hardest to hide the warm blush on his cheeks and the wags his fluffy tail keeps creating.

“oh, alastor? you can’t be alastor,” lucifer spoke up as he leaned against the counter in a sort of sluggish way.

alastor’s tail paused the wagging and his eye brow quirked, “why not?”

lucifer looked him up and down, “you’re way to ugly to be him, i mean, your whole body is, *hic*, practically blurring together, alastor is very pretty, he has a nice smile.”

and the tail went back to wagging.

“what do you mean pretty? and nice smile? i don’t think alastor is going for nice smile, your majesty,” alastor muttered, his lips shaking just the slightest as his face heated further.

“i don’t think he tries to do anything, that’s why he’s so great, and.. he’s nice with my baby.”

“what?”

“charlie, my daughter, *hic*, he, he makes her happy… the way i couldn’t.”

“i don’t think you see the way your daughter looks at you.” alastor spoke in a soft tone as he stared down the king.

the king lets out a soft chuckle, “that’s what her little girlfriend said, same as the spider guy.. now you charles? what, what am i missing? i mean, i’ve got eyes! i-i see her alright, i see her everyday.. i don’t know what makes me and everyone else different. i have perfect eye sight, she… she looks at me more like a boss, like im the big evil over lord who controls everything.. im not her dad anymore, im just father.”

alastor stared at the king as he hangs his head and holds it in his palms. this is what alastor wanted. he wanted the king to break, to spill his inner thoughts. he wanted black mail.

yet alastor knew that this was never coming out of his mouth. the words that the king is speaking, will never see the light of day until said man speaks about it once more.

“i miss her, like a lot,” the kings voice broke as he looked up and met alastor’s eyes, yet no tears brimmed the fallen angels eyes for alastor to know that lucifer was in pain, “i messed us up, i messed, her and me, and i can’t go back… agh, fuck, i really can’t tell you how much i miss her, peter.”

something told alastor that it wasn’t just charlie the king was talking about.

it went quiet, just the two staring at each other, one with the eyes of a broken man, and the other with the eyes of a predator.

alastor broke the silence first, “i believe you have a room to occupy, sire,” static was faint over alastor’s voice as he watched the king.

the king looked up at him, a small “hic” noise left his mouth before a childish grin formed on his face, “i guess you are a good servant, dan.”

alastor sighed, “i guess so, your majesty.”

[pansyfemme]

i have been a ball of depression lately as well as my physical health worsening pretty severly this past week due to stress and so my friends have been. trying so hard to get me to get out and do things and its very sweet but i feel bad because the whole time i’m just a total mess

[spaghett-onaplate]

depression is really weird actually wdym i spent 2.5 years of my life in bed

[pleasantmsp]

I love Beauyasha so much. I miss them so much.

The reunion gave me so much joy and now I'm in this weird happy but melancholy state. I love the Nein so much and I want more of them. And I especially want more of Beau and Yasha. If we get a Fjorester wedding one shot, I will be stoked. But then also give me the Beauyasha wedding too!

I'm really just hoping they keep doing these little reunions cause I love the Mighty Nein so much and seeing them makes me so happy.

[icewindandboringhorror]

There's always a slight yearning in the back of my mind wishing I had been born in the right place, time, family situation, income level, etc. to have just lived in one single house for my entire life. Imagine being born in a place that still suits you, even through all of your personal evolutions and etc. The idea of deep familiarity with an area because you've lived and explored it for 40+ years, being encased in a web of memories and connections. Being able to clean out your old childhood bedroom and find personal artifacts, to dig in the yard and remember. I know those lives can still be plenty imperfect, but there's just something so seemingly solid and stable and Grounding about it that I sometimes wish I could have.. (At least from my outside perspective as someone who's moved around a bit geographically and even within the same area, never lives in the same house/ apartment /etc. for more than a few years usually.) Like... having a place that is printed upon, fully your own, rather than chronically a visitor, every thought of a space always tempered with the notion that one day soon you'll have to pack it all up again, etc. There's something peaceful about the permanence.

[serainechor]

.

[mad-hunts]

you know, even though barton is pretty consistently active in gotham's underground, there have been two times in particular throughout the years that he just seemed to disappear into thin air for like a month or so. like no one could contact him, and his kids seemed to have nothing to say about the subject + shooed people away if they showed up to his clinic expecting to get medical care when it's actually been closed for an extended period of time. and i still think people have no idea what happened, BUT that's because barton's kids are honestly such real ones sometimes because they kept everything that was happening very private.

the reality of the situation is that he was suffering so deeply from depression that he was not eating or drinking anything and didn't speak / say anything to anyone for a time... so, to say that his depression was really bad would definitely not be an exaggeration. but yeahhh, i was just saying this because i know i made a post about how barton's depression can make it so that he physically can not get out of bed in arkham, but it's also something that plagues him outside of it as well + he has had major depressive episodes where he experienced mutism as i was talking about before and thus, i feel like not only does barton try to check in on his kids (whenever he's not being an arsehole that is jsjsj) but they also check up on him to make sure thing's are okay with him mentally