#i left feeling horrible and worthless

[giveme-allofthat-ultraviolence]

I was thinking about killing myself again last night and I was gonna go on this whole ass vent trauma dump thing but I was like oh I’m being a bitch again I’ll just try and suck it up and sleep it off

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Fuck Me Like You Hate Me

“That’s right. Cry, you fucking whore. That’s what I want to see,” his voice is guttural and unforgiving as he drives the vibrator harder against my clit.

I stare up at him, eyes glassy and mind dazed as he forces unrelenting pleasure over my body. It’s been hours and countless orgasms since he’d tied me down and pressed the vibrator to me. I didn’t even realize I was crying until he mentioned it. I’m too far gone to even protest or struggle.

I feel another orgasm start to build and a high, keening whine breaks free from me as the pain-tinged pleasure makes more tears fall from my eyes. “Good fucking whore, give me another one,” he smirks at me, sliding two fingers into my sopping cunt and curling them just right.

I tremble as the orgasm washes over me, my pussy clenching desperately around his fingers and my clit burning with painful overstimulation.

“You deserve this, don’t you? This is what you get for being a worthless whore who’s only good for cumming, isn’t that right?” He mocks me as his fingers continue to slam into me, the sound of my dripping, brutalized pussy barely audible over the sound of the vibrator.

I’m wordless at this point, I’d given up begging several orgasms ago when it became clear that he didn’t care about my sensitivity. My eyes are unseeing as he continues to work my body into a broken shell.

“You’re nothing more than a worthless whore, cumming your brains out for me. Not a single thought left in that pretty head of yours. Come on, whore, I want to see you break,” he clicks up the vibrator, pulling his fingers out of my cunt to pull back my clit hood to force the torturous stimulation to ravage my clit with no mercy.

My eyes roll up into my head as my next orgasm slams into me, my pussy squirting my release all over the bed beneath us. The stimulation doesn’t stop and he laughs cruelly as he watches my body and mind struggle to cope with the pleasure he’s putting me through.

I can’t get enough air into my lungs as the vibrator continues to decimate the most sensitive part of my body. His fingers keep me splayed open, leaving my clit with no protection from the bulb of the vibrator.

“We’re not stopping until you pass out today. And maybe even then, I’ll keep pulling orgasm after orgasm out from your worthless little body just so you know who you belong to,” his eyes are alight with a maniacal gleam as he continues to force the horrible pleasure onto me.

Before my last orgasm fully faded, another rose up inside of me, the feeling overwhelming every single sense and rushing at me. I feel every muscle tense and the pleasure rips through me, so hard I can feel it in my bones.

It broke me as the world around me faded to black, my mind cracking under the assault of pleasure and pain.

—

I wake up to the feeling of a warm towel pressed against my sensitive core. I whimper softly, shifting slightly, registering that I’m unbound now. His shushes me softly as I peer up at him with bleary eyes. “I���ve got you, sweetie, it’s okay,” his voice is soft and reassuring as he finishes wiping me down and kisses the top of my head. I smile up at him and watch as he sets the towel down before crawling into bed with me, pulling me close and surrounding me with his scent and warmth. I close my eyes and feel myself drift away, safe and sound.

[sonotpattismith]

savior complex

pairing: satoru gojo x reader word count: 9.6k content: manga spoilers, fluff in the beginning, angst, if gojo had survived, depression, feelings of worthlessness, hurt w/ comfort, smut, 18+ inspired by: would you fall in love with me again from epic the musical (my SHAYLAAA)

Gojo wasn’t sure that he’d had to try so hard at anything in his life— not as hard as he tried for you. 

It took weeks after that first day that you’d transferred into Jujutsu High during his third year to even get you to look at him. And sure, he knew that his flirting was rusty given the fact that he’d… never done it, but he also knew he was a handsome guy, paired with his untouchable strength as a sorcerer (pun intended), and of course his sizable wealth didn’t hurt either— he figured he was a catch. 

Then you came along, with your fierce personality and your killer smile and your tendency to completely walk past him each time he tried to get your attention. It was embarrassing— the amount of times he had been left in your dust, a cocky grin slowly falling from his face as he dropped whichever technique it was that he was trying to impress you with that day, his friends barely holding back their laughter at the peacock type display Gojo seemed so confident in. 

He was clueless as to what he was doing wrong. Did he stink? You didn’t seem as… uninclined to interact when it was Suguru asking you how you were adjusting to a new school. Trying as hard as he could not to look as similar to a perturbed toddler as he certainly felt, he even tried inserting himself into your conversations sometimes. It often ended horribly awkward for him, your sentence usually trailing off and your eyes giving him a tentative once over before you would continue your story— definitely not as enthused as you had been prior to his interruption though. 

“Do I smell?” Satoru asked with an expression of stone cold seriousness one afternoon to an exasperated Suguru, who had already had a long day as it was without his best friend’s nonsense adding onto it. The black-haired man swiveled his head around to gaze tiredly at him, allowing his face to speak for him. “No, I’m serious. Sniff me, tell me— please.” 

“Get off of me.” Suguru grunted as he shoved at the boy who was currently damn near straddling his waist while shoving his exposed armpit into his friend’s face. “Why am I nose deep in your pits right now, Satoru?”

“Because I don’t know what else is wrong with me.” 

“I could think of a few—”

“It’s like I don’t even exist!” Gojo pointedly interrupted that jab before tossing himself back on Geto’s bed. “I’ve done everything. I’ve taken over missions for her, I bought her that weird ass keychain she was looking at when we all went to Kyoto— I even tried doing that thing where I blocked the rain with my infinity. She pulled out an umbrella, Suguru. If I wasn’t so embarrassed I would’ve laughed my ass off.”

“Satoru—”

“I’m talking perfect comedic timing. I thought she couldn’t get hotter and now she’s funny—”

“Have you tried getting your head out of your ass?” Suguru finally raised his voice to cut through his incessant rambling.

 The six eyes blinked at him a few times from behind his rounded glasses, an expression of petulance slowly overtaking his features. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looked defiantly in the other direction.

“You didn’t have to yell—”

But he was once again cut off, this time not by his aggravated friend, but the heavy thud and clatter from the next room over. Both boys’ heads snapped to look at one another with wide eyes. It was silent for a moment. 

“Isn’t that…” Gojo’s question trailed off when the boy beside him nodded affirmatively with an equally concerned expression— your dorm. 

In an instant, both boys were flying out of their lazed spots on the bed, fighting to squeeze through the door at the same time. It was Satoru who first pounded his fist on your door.

“Are you okay?” He shouted as Suguru finally stumbled behind him. After a moment of silence, he tried sliding the door open, but, as expected, it was locked. Pounding his fist three more times against it, he began yelling. “Hey! I’m coming in!”

He probably could have used his technique for a less… destructive route, however your lack of response was making his mind muddle with horrendous possibilities. Leaning back, one swift kick had the offending door crashing in, and both boys were quickly hopping through. You were laying in a heap on the rugged floor by your desk, a handful of your supplies strewn around you.

“Get Shoko.” Satoru commanded blindly, sliding to his knees before you to check if you were still breathing. Just as his fingers brushed against your neck though, and Suguru was halfway out the door, you stirred from your sudden coma-like state. 

Your brows furrowed, and your eyes were bleary when they opened as you slowly moved to sit up. At once, the boy in front of you was pushing you back down by the shoulders. 

“Don’t move until Shoko comes to see you.” 

“Shoko? No, no, I’m fine.” You sluggishly brushed off his hands before carefully standing up. A sigh of irritation left you as he shot his arms out to steady you should you fall. Sure, you knew he was only trying to help, but he wasn’t exactly your favorite person, and you were slightly (severely) embarrassed that he’d found you in such a state. 

“Fine?” He laughed dryly with a shake of his head. “Sweetheart, you and I have two very different definitions of fine.”

Biting back a scowl at the pet name, you bent down to begin picking up the things you’d dropped on your way to the ground. Scoffing in disbelief, he placed his hands on your shoulders to push you down to sit at your desk chair. 

“Will you sit down? You just passed out—”

“I said I’m fine. You’re not my father, and you’re not my boyfriend. So you can cut the savior crap with me.” You snapped, and the regret was almost instant the second the last syllable fell from your lips. 

It was hard not to get irritated with him though. Satoru and his perfect life and untouchable powers and abundance of wealth that he seemed so sure everyone would drop to their knees for. After having fought tooth and nail to prove to your family that exploring your cursed technique would be worthwhile, it felt like a slap in the face for him to be constantly boasting about how easily everything came to him. 

“Yeah? Thank god for that. I’ll make sure to call your father or your boyfriend next time you decide to collapse instead of showing any sort of concern myself like a decent fucking person.”

You weren’t sure you had ever seen him actually riled up, always with a bright (albeit obnoxious) smile on his face as he tried so desperately to get everyone else as giddy as he constantly seemed to be. A pang of guilt struck you for having been the reason Gojo finally frowned. Mentally cursing yourself, you tucked your legs against your chest, chin resting on your knees as you chewed pensively on your bottom lip. He didn’t storm out as you were sure he would have, but his back was turned to you now as he stared at the door awaiting Shoko’s arrival.

“I just… I forget to eat sometimes when I’ve got alot going on.” You explained quietly, eyes cast down to your desk. From your peripheral, you saw him turn around to face you once again. “And I won’t remember until I pass out.” 

It was silent for an uncomfortable minute before a strangled laugh threatened to escape the boy’s mouth. Your head shot up to glare at him in question, exasperated at his hot and cold behavior. Upon noting your irritation, he covered his mouth with his hands as if it would stop you from hearing the cackles that shook his frame. 

“You know what— fuck you, Gojo.” 

“No! No, I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you— I swear!” Though he was barely able to get his frantic explanation out due to his continuous giggles. He desperately tried to get himself together as you turned away from him with burning cheeks. “I-I’m laughing because… Suguru is pulling Shoko out of class as we speak to check on you, and I broke your door down, and you… just needed a burger.”

Satoru cursed himself to sleep that night as the scene replayed in his mind of you finally having opened up to him, and he pathetically wasted the opportunity by… laughing at you. Slamming his head repeatedly against his pillow, he thought perhaps you were just out of his league at this point, as he couldn’t for the life of him seem to get anything right with you. 

He tried desperately to catch you alone the next week or so, but it seemed something else always had your attention. Whether it be your being sent on a mission, or spending time with Shoko (who knew Satoru had been begging to have a minute alone with you), or holed up in your room, headphones pressed snuggly over your ears as you hunched over your desk. 

After the collapsing fiasco, you had been leaving your door slightly ajar for fear that it may be broken down again should you have another episode. The white-haired man couldn’t count how many times he’d strolled by the door under the guise of seeing Suguru who was just one room over. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could play that one off, because his friend was beginning to grow impatient with the way he’d slide into his room multiple times a day with nothing to say, standing there for a few minutes with his hands in his pockets so it seemed like he’d actually had some business there. 

“Will you please just talk to her? You’re driving me insane.” Geto groaned out, just having been woken up from a nap by one of Satoru’s unexpected drop ins. “This is getting pathetic, Satoru.”

“I would if she didn’t look so busy all the damn time.” He grumbled, his forehead knocking against the door in aggravation. 

His own words played back in his head, and they had him quickly straightening his posture, an unreadable expression on his face. Had Suguru been more conscious at the moment, perhaps he would have questioned his sudden mood shift. The black-haired boy was already slipping back into his leaden slumber though, allowing Gojo to quickly slip back out of the room without a second glance.

It was an embarrassing amount of time later when he returned to that hallway, though he wouldn’t know the difference because he’d never had to make an utter mess of the kitchen just to make himself— or anyone for that matter— lunch. Still, oblivious to just how unnecessarily chaotic he had been in the process, Satoru was standing beside your desk expectantly until you caught his imposing form in your peripheral. Pulling down your headphones, you looked up at him with confusion etched all over your tired face. 

“Eat something.” Was the only explanation he gave, shoving a plate of… interestingly shaped onigiri toward you. You blinked down at the messy plate, your eyes trailing up to the hand attached to it that still had remnants of rice sticking to their fingers. Satoru pursed his lips at your silence, undoubtedly taking it as the same refusal you’d been giving his time and attention for months. “You’ve been in here all day studying. Eat something before you pass out again.”

But your silence wasn’t born out of the usual annoyance the white-haired man typically sparked in you. Instead, it was a stunned type of speechlessness, too touched and taken aback by what you thought was uncharacteristic thoughtfulness from the boy you were sure only thought about himself. 

Gulping down the gentle lump in your throat, you slowly accepted the plate from him, eyes fixed on the lumps of rice staring back at you. From your peripheral, you watched him nod before resignatingly turning around to leave and let you eat in peace. 

“Gojo?” He swiveled around frantically at the hesitant call of his name. There was a shy smile on your face as you looked up from the plate at him, tugging the headphones from your neck. “Aren’t you gonna stay?”  

It was clear in the way he shifted his weight antsily between his feet and stopped the widening of his already unnaturally large eyes that he was trying with everything in him not to look too excited. Pretending to check the time on a watch that wasn’t present on his wrist, he nodded with feigned nonchalance. 

“Uh… yeah, I can sit with you for a minute.”

“Just a minute?” You quipped with a raised brow.

“Or longer— no rush, y’know?” He quickly corrected as he yanked desperately at the bean bag in the corner of your room to sit beside you. The plush cushion was dragged so close to your desk chair that you wouldn’t be able to roll it away from him if you tried. 

You smiled knowingly at him, holding out the plate for him to take one of the rice balls.

“Those are for you.” Satoru shook his head, pushing the plate back toward you. 

“What would I do without you?” You teased, though there was a poorly concealed sincerity behind your fond eyes that had his heart beating out of his chest. With an amused smile, you shook your head at him. “Gojo, look, I appreciate the sentiment, but you made these the size of baseballs. Take one.”

A furious blush overtook his features at your words. It was admittedly quite refreshing to see the typically haughty sorcerer actually embarrassed, and it made him seem more human to you despite the lightyears of differences that seemed to separate you two. Sinking into his seat, his knees were nearly touching his chest thanks to the combination of the low seat and his freakishly long legs. 

“I’ve never really made anything before.” He confessed through a sheepish murmur as he finally picked up one of his messy creations. “Guess cooking isn’t one of my countless innate talents.”

“Are you telling me the strongest sorcerer has a flaw?” You gasped dramatically, revelling in the way he narrowed his striking eyes at you from behind his glasses in feigned offense. They had slipped down his nose, revealing those long, white lashes that would have any woman green with envy. 

“Can’t have it all, can I?” That infuriatingly charming smirk of his attempted to catch you off guard, but you fought past the urge to melt for him just as everyone else did so willingly. It was taking all of his own willpower to not squirm in anticipation under your gaze, what with the way you seemed to study him so closely. 

“Well, that would imply you’ve got everything else.” 

“Don’t I?”

“How about some shame? Humility? Social aware—”

“Would you please just eat?”

Though Satoru’s damn near shameful attempt at onigiri wasn’t exactly gonna win him any culinary awards anytime soon, it certainly won him something even better— your long-awaited attention. That next day in class, he had all but walked past you and Shoko, who were huddled beside each other discussing the reversed curse technique that you had been desperately trying to learn more about. 

He figured, as you always had in the past, that you didn’t want him budding into your conversations. You caught his towering figure in your peripheral, that stark, white hair traceable in even the largest of crowds. It made your words trail mid-sentence, and you smiled apologetically at your friend before shifting around to call out to him. The typically cool-demeanored boy nearly tripped over his own feet when you asked him to join you two to give his opinion on the matter. 

Shoko’s eyes rolled, a poorly concealed smirk of amusement poking up around her lit cigarette as he raced over, pushing his friend not-so-subtly aside with his shoulder in order to take the spot next to you. 

It seemed as though he knew that each time you graced him with your attention, he had to make sure he made it worth your while, and he began spouting off on a shockingly eloquent rant about the subject at hand. You hadn’t been aware that he was actually… quite intelligent under all that bravado and foolishness. In fact, you were quickly learning, as you watched him turn red in the face from the speed at which he was info-dumping, that Satoru was kind of a giant nerd.

This newfound side of him that you’d been a fool not to allow him the chance to show to you, made you actually start to understand why everyone seemed to be so fond of him. Aside from his boyish charm and knockout face, he was an avid intellectual— a trait he always seemed to be bursting at the seams to share with anyone who would listen to him. 

The two of you traded books and tips, and he tried to reel back his innate cockiness each time he was able to teach you something you didn’t know, though you were quickly beginning to understand that haughtiness was simply part of the Satoru Gojo package. Alongside his surprising thoughtfulness and undeniable ability to make you crack a smile even in your lowest of moods, you decided that you could let his occasional arrogance slide. 

Despite all your best attempts to maintain your nonchalance at the man who wore the title of the strongest like the boldest of tattoos across his forehead, no levels of his infuriating infinity could even keep you away from falling right into Satoru’s orbit. Even the heavens above knew that nothing would keep him from pulling you right in either. 

That was why even all these years later, no one in this world could have convinced you that the same boy who fought tooth and nail for your affection as a mere teenager would have abandoned you so carelessly now. 

“Would you please just eat?” 

Those painstakingly familiar words were now falling from the lips of Megumi Fushiguro, who, alongside his fellow students, seemed to be the only evidence of the white-haired man you had had contact with in the days following your fiance’s battle with the King of Curses. The ring on your left hand only served to mock you the longer this charade went on. 

You looked up from the glimmering stone to glare haphazardly up at the raven-haired boy before you. He was clutching a tray of somen noodles within his scarred hands, his face firm with exasperation despite the disheartened glint in his dark eyes. Ignoring the furious growls in your stomach at the sight of the dish, you glanced to the side. 

“It’s been three days, Megumi.” You stated monotonously, but the tears that brimmed in your waterline betrayed you. “If he died, then just tell me. I can handle—”

“He doesn’t want to see you. He left.” The boy repeated for what must have been the tenth time since breaking the news to you. 

Itadori and Kugisaki trailed just outside the entrance of the common area where you had taken up residence in protest of Gojo’s sudden disappearance. Fushiguro had always been closer to you than the others had, what with your having been there when his benefactor took him in. The other two student’s weren’t sure they could handle that broken look in your eyes as well as their aloof counterpart could. 

“He wouldn’t have left like this.” You insisted through gritted teeth, swiping furiously at the traitorous tears that raced down your sunken cheeks. “Tell him if he wants to leave me that he can come say it to my face. Until then, take your food and go come up with a better excuse.” 

The shadow-user sighed desolately at your continued refusal. He only wished he could tell you that he wanted nothing more than for his mentor to man up and come face you himself. It was killing him to see you waste away like this with the hopes that it would draw Gojo out from wherever it was he was hiding. You had refused to leave that stiff couch, refused to eat, refused to accept the lies your fiance had told them to give you to explain his absence. 

While it infuriated him to no end, Megumi could also, for once, understand the white-haired man’s ever-confusing decisions. Despite that part of him that felt he would have likely done the same thing, the boy knew deep down that you would be able to handle this situation far better than what Gojo was giving you credit for.

Setting the tray down on the table in front of you, Megumi nodded to his friends to leave you be once again. It was now his turn to report back to the man of the hour, hoping that something would get through to him if he heard how long it had been since you’d moved an inch. 

Your form of protest was skillfully thought out, because you were right— it was killing Satoru to know that you were wasting away by yourself in that desolate common room. After all these years, it would have been foolish of him to assume that you wouldn’t know the best ways to get under his skin. Perhaps he should have had them tell you he was dead, though he was selfishly worried about the permanent consequences that lie would have. That, and he had a feeling that somehow you two were far too soul-tied for you to not be able to tell if he’d truly left this earth or not.

The supposed strongest was trying desperately to stay resolute in his decision, because if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that he no longer deserved you. After everything he’d done, everything he hadn’t been strong enough to do, Satoru couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping beside you each night knowing what he was once capable of, now that he was no longer. 

What would you think of him? Even if you did accept him as he was now, would it only be out of pitiful obligation? He wasn’t sure he could stomach the idea of you shifting your life to accommodate him— not when he had made it his life’s mission since you two were teenagers to assure you never had to lift a finger if it wasn’t what you truly wanted to do. 

Satoru would hardly be able to blame you. When he got down on one knee, you had agreed to marry a version of him that no longer existed— one that was an unstoppable force, that could protect and please you without so much as breaking a sweat. This version of himself that he was now being forced to come to terms with was worthless, only a shell of his former self that you had fallen in love with. 

The stubbornness that he had grown to love since you first turned your cheek to him all those years ago was only infuriating him now. It was making it that much harder to leave you behind as he knew was best for you when you were reminding him with each passing day how well you knew him, and he wasn’t sure anyone had ever understood him on such a level— and no one ever would again. 

After nearly a week of this back and forth, with your only leaving your post to shower and barely accepting food, Satoru wasn’t sure if he’d be able to wait out your stubborn protest as he thought would be his only option. Each day, he’d tell himself that you’d cave eventually— you’d give up and go back home. You would move on and live your life until you forgot about him, safe from the burden of who he’d become. Each day though, you proved him wrong. 

The lights of the common room had already dimmed for the night, the only illumination coming from the gentle rays of the moon’s glow as it creeped in through the windows. Winter was taking its toll on the campus, especially the room you’d stubbornly decided to stay put in for the past week or so. At least if you had been at home, the comfort of your heater promised protection from the building cold. 

Despite how much your body trembled under the solace of the blanket Megumi had brought for you, you knew that home wouldn’t be nearly as comforting as the trick of nostalgia was telling you— not without Satoru there to share that warmth. 

Curling in on yourself, you stared blankly at the low table in front of you where another tray of food had been left untouched. Truthfully, a part of you wondered how much longer you could keep this protest up, only the occasional pack of soda crackers fortifying you as you waited out Satoru’s absence. The more stubborn side of you said you’d wither away here on this unforgiving couch if it meant you at least went down trying. 

The soft patter of snow falling against the windows lulled your stinging eyes shut. Even your dreams had been desperately trying to make sense of your fiance’s uncharacteristic abandonment. Nightmares plagued you most nights, Satoru being at the forefront of each one; they all ended in his horrendous death— because death was the only logical explanation you could conjure up for him leaving you behind so mercilessly. 

Tonight’s cinematic retelling of the endless possibilities of his final fate had you awakening with a start. No matter how many nights now that you had spent reliving the same grief over and over again, no amount of repitition could stop the way the tears that should have run out by now would pour from your eyes first thing each morning. 

The moon was still watching over you when you decided to pull yourself from your latest nightmare. Panting out through strained sobs, the blanket slipped down your shoulders upon your abrupt descent into a sitting position. It didn’t take you long to realize that you weren’t alone tonight, despite the criminally early hour it must have been. 

Your wide, burning eyes blinked a few times at the man standing before you as though he might vanish back into the depths of your imagination should you clear your bleary eyes enough. He remained firmly in his place, silent as death as you processed the scene you had woken up to. 

He figured you might yell at him, hit him with all the force of a scorned woman, tell him off for having disappeared, but you only assessed him quietly. With narrowed eyes, you took in the way his hair had grown out slightly past his normal length, covering his forehead in a manner that almost seemed intentional. His dark-rimmed glasses covered up the eyes that you had been longing to see for so long, almost mocking you as your own reflection stared back at you through the lenses. 

Satoru— he was standing right before you, shoulders rising and falling, but silent, and uncharacteristically so. You’d be able to pick him out of a crowd, you were sure of it, but there was something so different about him now as he stared down at you. The tendrils of cursed energy that were typically flowing out of him in overwhelming waves no longer filled the air around you. They once blanketed you in their demanding presence, but now the air surrounding you was lighter, his energy a stark difference to the one you had grown used to.

Slowly, you stood from the couch, the frigid touch of the wood floors permeating the thick layer of your socks and sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes never left his concealed ones as you rose to stand just a hair’s breadth away from him. His Adam's apple bobbed at your sudden proximity, and it was taking all of his already frail energy to not wrap you in his arms to chase away the cold that dared to bite at your frame. 

 The man flinched back notably as your hand reached up for his glasses, but it didn’t deter you from carefully pulling them off of his face. He closed his eyes though, desperately resolute in his attempt to conceal the truth from you. 

“Look at me.” 

Your simple demand nearly broke his resolve after so long of longing to hear that melodic voice of yours again. Clenching his jaw, he slowly allowed his eyes to open, unsure of why he thought you wouldn’t be able to tell that something was different about him.

And different it was.

Satoru’s once other-worldly, glittering eyes that shone with the promise of his earth-shattering abilities were now dulled— still that breathtaking blue that you had come to love, however the absence of the trait he prided himself so devoutly on was evident, even in the dim moonlight. 

You watched as he tried to keep his face neutral, but that fierce insecurity that was so rare to see on him was breaking through his changed eyes. There was no explanation needed— you understood now with stunning clarity why he had tried to stay away. 

He must have taken your silence for horror, his lips pulling into a firm line as he leaned down to grab the tray of food he had come here with the intention of delivering to you himself. The carefully prepared meal was shoved forward.

“Eat.” 

His firm order shook you from your trance, and you were now beginning to notice the countless scars lining his face and arms that hadn’t been there when you kissed him goodbye that dreaded morning before the battle. Blinking back the mist in your eyes, you sniffled and shook your head at him, squaring your shoulders in a fierce display of determination.

“I want to eat at home.” You explained through calculated eye contact. “Take me home, Satoru.” 

It was becoming increasingly difficult to conceal the pain it was igniting in him to refuse you. Painting a scowl onto his features, he pressed the tray against your chest.

“I didn’t change my mind.” He insisted unyieldingly, hoping the contempt he was feigning was convincing. “I’m leaving, I don’t want to be with you anymore. Now— eat.” 

His words were undoubtedly a slap in the face, evident in the way you flinched back subtly. Gulping down the lump in your throat, your eyes trailed down his visibly tired frame once again. His arms were trembling ever so slightly with the weight of the tray in his hands, and you were now noticing the matching scars circling both his arms. 

“You don’t want to be with me anymore?” You repeated, though your question came out more like a statement, and it took him a moment before he reminded himself to offer a solid nod in confirmation.

 With a solemn nod of your own, you took the tray from him to place it back on the table before tugging the engagement ring off of your finger. His face contorted gut-wrenchingly at the sight, barely able to register what you were doing as you lifted his hand to place the ring in the center of it. Your expression remained fiercely neutral as you held out your own palm to him. He only blinked down at you, a misty haze clouding his gaze. 

“Give me your ring.” You demanded simply. 

It had been glaring at you since you first opened your eyes and saw him, glimmering under the faint glow of the moon. The promise ring you had given him in exchange for the one he gifted you on your third anniversary together— it was still sat proudly on his left-hand’s ring finger, awaiting to be replaced by a wedding band just as he’d replaced yours with an engagement ring only a few months ago. 

He swallowed thickly at your request, but you only shook your outstretched palm at him in expectation. Looking down at his left hand, his thumb absentmindedly rolled over the silver band, feeling the indents of you two’s initials carved into the metal under his fingertip. Despite his best efforts to control his expression, his bottom lip trembled at the implications of what he was about to do. Your heart cracked as you watched the tears pool in his eyes. Dropping his head, he allowed his hair to curtain over his eyes as the salty streams began pouring down his cheeks. 

“Don’t do this to me.” He whispered desolately with a shake of his head. A heavy sigh fell from your lips, drooping your shoulders in the process.

“Then put that ring back on my finger and take me home, Toru.”

“And then what?” Satoru exclaimed, finally looking up at you through the blur of his frustrated tears. The abrupt motion shifted his rustled hair, revealing a sliver of the thick scar running across his forehead. “I’m not the same man you agreed to marry.”

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

“Look at me!” His furious command had you flinching back ever-so-slightly. “I can barely stand on my own two feet without running out of breath. I’m weak— I lost damn near everything, and I’m not the same Satoru anymore, okay?”

“Then I will walk with you every fucking day until you get better. I never loved you because you were strong, so I don’t give a shit if you’re weak now, Satoru. And don’t you dare stand there and tell me you lost everything because I am still here, and no amount of scars are going to make me leave.” 

An agonized sob shook his frame, and he was quickly stumbling forward to sink onto the couch with a wince. Tears of your own began slipping down your face as you moved to sit beside him. He buried his face into his hands, your engagement ring still hanging on the tip of his pinky finger. 

“I don’t have anything left to give you.” His pained whisper struck you in the chest. 

Leaning forward, you carefully wrapped your arm around his bicep. There was an attempted subtly in the way you ran your fingertips delicately over the new scar circling the muscle, and you tried not to cry out as your mind put two and two together of what could have possibly happened to warrant such symmetrical marks across his body. As you tucked your chin onto his shoulder, he finally peered over at you. You offered him a wistful smile even through your tears.

“When have I ever asked anything more of you than to stay with me?” 

Just like all those years ago in your dorm room, Satoru couldn’t bear to deny you— not when you asked him so sweetly with those wide, hopeful eyes of yours. He slipped your ring back onto its rightful place and pressed a lingering kiss to the stone. The wetness of his tears dripped onto your hand, but you couldn’t possibly think of a better feeling after having gone so long without him. 

It wasn’t until you two finally made it back to your shared home that night that he realized that in the haste of his giving into you once again, he had all but forgotten about why it was so important to him that he stay away. 

“Why don’t you take a hot shower? You’re still shaking, you wimp.” Satoru tried to sound lightheaded, poking fun at you like was once so common for him, but nothing about this new arrangement would ever be common again. 

You glanced over your shoulder from the sink, where you had busied yourself cleaning the bowls you two had just eaten from. It admittedly took longer than you had expected to finish eating, as your fiancé kept pushing more food onto your plate to make up for the hunger strike he was still grumbling about that you went on. 

Turning back to place the final dish on the drying rack, you smiled fondly. 

“That depends, are you gonna come help warm me up?” 

Your teasing offer made the smile slowly slip from his face, though you wouldn’t see it with your back turned to him. He looked down at himself— the scars that now littered his body and how difficult even the most mundane of tasks had become for him in his gruelling recovery. The gentle hum of question that escaped you at his sudden silence reminded him that you were still expecting a response. 

“Well, I—”

“C’mon, I’ll meet you there.” Your airy invitation cut off whatever excuse he was about to make, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you knew exactly what he was thinking as you made your way to your shared bedroom, ruffling at his already tousled hair on the way. He remained idly at the table, staring down at himself hesitantly as the soft patters of the running shower reached his ears. 

It had been quite some time since you two were last intimate— what with his being sealed and the immediate need for his services following his release. Sex had never been an area of insecurity for Satoru. After all, he was strong and confident, and he never once had to doubt your attraction toward him. Now though, his stamina wasn’t the same, and his body sure as hell didn’t look as aesthetically pleasing as it had the last time he’d bared himself to you.

Carefully standing from his seat, he stretched out his stiff muscles before practically dragging his feet toward the room he once couldn’t wait to get you alone in. The bathroom had already steamed up considerably from the scorching water you always liked boiling yourself in. The apprehensive man hovered in the doorway, lips parting at the sight of your heavenly silhouette through the fogged, glass shower door. 

“Toru?” You called out upon hearing the door creak open a bit further.

 Cracking the shower open, you poked your head through with an anticipatory smile, but it quickly fell upon seeing the sullen expression on his face and the way his fingers twisted in uncertainty into the hem of his shirt. 

“It’s just me, babe.” You offered gently, and he responded with a barely noticeable nod. 

“Yeah, just… give me a minute. I’ll be right there.”

He was grateful that you were gracious enough to recognize his need for your patience as you nodded in understanding and slipped back into the shower. Glancing up at the ceiling in hopes that he wouldn’t catch his own reflection in the mirror, he carefully lifted his shirt over his head, wincing faintly at the stretch. His bottoms were soon joining the discarded top on the marble floor. The mirror in his peripheral taunted him, and he kept his gaze cast down as he slowly made his way to the shower. 

You smiled upon hearing the door slide open behind you, biting your cheek in anticipation of his warm hands sliding around your middle— because Lord knows your fiance was never known for his ability to keep his hands to himself. Those wandering hands never came though, and you gradually peered over your shoulder. 

He was standing just outside the shower stream, arms hovering hesitantly at his sides. The expression on his face appeared angry— not at you though, almost as though there was a self-inflicted war waging in his mind as he awaited your reaction. You blinked the continuously running water from your eyes as you turned fully around to face him. After a moment of careful, reassuring eye contact, you allowed your eyes to drift down over his tense frame.

There were a myriad of the tiniest slashes running across nearly every inch of him. Even more striking though, was the thick, jagged scar circling the entire circumference of his waist. The lump in the back of your throat made it nearly impossible to swallow down the tears threatening to spill out. Still, you did so for his sake, because the cautionary glint in his eyes told you he was waiting for your disapproval. 

The tips of your fingers reached out to graze the area carefully, knowing that despite how much the RCT must have sped along the healing process, it likely still felt fresh. He shivered under the featherlight touch of your fingertips. Your glistening body drew closer to him, and he wasn’t sure whether his insecurity would be stronger than his lust for you as your breasts grazed his chest. 

With a fond hum, your hands drifted up his chest to circle around his neck. He tried to conceal his grunt of effort as he leaned down to your level in order to kiss you properly. Nearly slipping as you lifted yourself on your tiptoes to help him, his hands immediately shot forward to steady you shakily. 

With all the doubts running through his mind, he expected you to huff in frustration, to pull away from him as he certainly wouldn’t blame you for doing. You only smiled witsfully against his dewy lips though, the bridge of your nose brushing against his as you whispered sincerely. 

“I missed you.” 

Still, Satoru wasn’t sure that his long awaited presence would ever be enough. 

After some time, you agreed to go back to work at the school, especially since Gojo was nowhere near prepared to get back into the swing of things. Though no one dared speak it into existence, everyone had already silently accepted the fact that he’d likely never be able to take on missions like he once did. More hands off teaching— sure, though it felt like a slap in the face compared to what he once was capable of. 

It wasn’t as though this was something new you were needing to jump into now. No, you had begun working as soon as you graduated just as he had. The difference was, you worked with the understanding that you really didn’t need to be doing it, and your partner always made sure you knew that you could quit at any time under the safety of his sizable wealth. Now though, there was a significant need for more help with the students in Gojo’s absence, and it was eating him alive that you now felt responsible for picking up that slack despite your insistence that you wanted to help.

Satoru had no clue anymore just what it was that he was providing you in this relationship. 

“Baby, they’ll be fine.” He pleaded for the upteenth time, unable to bear the thought of you breaking your own back while he stays at home— utterly useless. “They can wait a little longer until I come back.”

You smiled with a shake of your head, slathering on some of that lotion you always wore before bed that never failed to drive him crazy. 

“I’ve been home for the past week. You’re not sick of seeing me?” 

He scoffed as though personally offended by your accusation. Shifting forward to replace your hands with his own, he kissed your shoulder as his hands continued to work the cream into your thighs from behind. The tiniest sparks of hope ignited in him when you sighed quietly under your breath, your head gently falling back against his bare chest at the sensation of the devastatingly familiar ridges on his fingertips against your skin. 

Being intimate with you again was something he was pointedly avoiding— too ashamed of his own body to feel remotely confident enough to engage in it, and far too worried the new stress on this body would make for a comparably disappointing experience than what you were used to. Even so, he could see it on your face and feel it in your wanton sighs just how much you had missed him, and it was becoming harder and harder for him to act as though he didn’t miss it too. 

“I’ll never get sick of you.” Satoru breathed sincerely against your cheek, his thumbs digging desolately into the fat of your inner thighs. They parted in anticipation at his languid motions, allowing his hand to slip up the loose leg of your silken sleep shorts. 

“Promise?” You teased breathlessly, fisting the fabric of his sweatpants as his fingers creeped up your fluttering core. 

“With everything in me.” Though he wasn’t sure just how much that entailed anymore. 

Maybe, he thought as he dipped two fingers into your awaiting heat, if he could at least make love to you he wouldn’t feel like a complete waste of space— like there was still something he could give you even if it meant pushing the limits of his already fragile body. His arm began to ache in tandem with his steady rhythm, but you were whimpering so sweetly into his ear as though he still deserved to hear it. 

Leaning down, Satoru captured your lips in a frenzied attempt to swallow up all the pent up energy spilling from your plush lips. In his lust-clouded mind, he thought maybe it would heal him, breathe life back into his sore muscles and tingling nerve endings that taunted him with every curl of his fingers against your sweet walls. Your mouth parted involuntarily against his in a blissed cry, and it was enough to convince him that— maybe he did still have it in him. 

Offering a forlorn moan of his own, your fiancé frantically parted from you to push you back down against the mattress, each scarred over stitch across his torso screaming in protest, but he had something to prove now as he allowed his sweatpants to fall to the floor. 

Your half lidded eyes drank him in greedily, relieved to see that despite his carefully calculated restraint throughout the past few days, he still wanted you just as much as you had been craving him. Slipping your shorts down easily, neither of you seemed patient enough to waste anymore time after so long without one another. 

Satoru climbed back onto the bed, hoping you didn’t notice his wince of effort on the way. It seemed he was in the clear though, and your graceful fingers slipped up his nape and tangled into his freshly cut hair. Though he wasn’t too keen on the idea of going to a barbershop just yet— what with the peculiar scar running across his forehead, he had agreed to sit on the closed toilet lid just a few nights prior as you stood between his spread legs and carefully trimmed the wisps of white hair that had grown past his wide eyes. 

You were so grateful that you did, because now your view of those messianic eyes was unobstructed and knocking the air straight from your lungs as they always had the unique power of doing. With a heart that felt as though it was turning to mush under his zealous gaze, your impatient hands circled his hips carefully to pull his already lined up length into you. 

“God— I missed you so much.” He gasped, though he could barely get his words out through the desperate kisses he was pressing against any inch of you he could reach. You moaned in relief, tears threatening to pool in your eyes at the intensity of the long-awaited connection. “I’ll never leave you again— I swear. I’m sorry, I love you. Fuck, you feel—”

You cut him off with a sloppily aimed kiss, a fond smile breaking through your lips as you realized that of course, if his near death was going to leave him with one thing, it was going to be his rapid-fire tongue. Satoru only whined against your mouth, forgoing his previous caution and shifting his hips forward to roll into you. His stamina was already dwindling by the second, emphasized by the growing tenderness in his torso, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t see you through your much deserved climax. 

“You okay, Toru?” You panted against his lips, taking note of the way his fist trembled against the sheets beside your head. 

“‘M perfect— don’t worry about me.” He lied, dipping down to nip at your collarbone in hopes of distracting you from the clear discomfort racing through his bones. “You’re perfect, keep making those pretty noises for me, yeah?”

It was enough to placate you for just a second longer, unable to deny him as the pitched moans continued flowing from your lips. Your pliancy spurred him on, making him feel far more confident than he should have in his current state as he ran a heated hand down your body to hook it behind your thigh. It wasn’t until he lifted it over his shoulder to snap his hips up in that way he was so used to making you melt, that a strangled curse fell through his gritted teeth. 

“Satoru—”

“I’m fine, please.” Your fiance quickly implored even through the pained scrunch of his striking features. His hand fell from your thigh to cup your face, squishing your cheeks between his frenzied fingers as it was clear the once blissed expression on your face was falling in place of frantic concern. 

“You’re not—”

“I am. C’mon, let me take care of you—”

“Satoru, get off.” 

The continued plea that was preparing to escape him got caught unceremoniously in his throat at your command. Gulping down the bile that threatened to rise up his throat, his blown out eyes searched your face while he slowly inched away from you. Shuffling up onto your elbows, you carefully pushed him onto his back, falling safely against the mountain of feathery pillows. 

His face remained solemn as you crawled over him, and though he had never been one to deny the sight of you on top of him, with the silken skin of your thighs glistening in the moonlight that flowed in through the windows and the flimsy sleeves of your tank top slid halfway down your arm— the fact still remained that it was because he couldn’t do it. The very body hindering him betrayed him as his jaw dropped at the bittersweet feeling of you sinking down onto him. 

It shouldn’t have mattered. Your face still mirrored the very bliss it reflected when he had you beneath him, but every roll of your supple hips that inched him closer to his release felt like a slash to his already mutilated chest. How could you still look at him with such admiration, and who the fuck was he if not the strongest anymore?

That night, you slept soundly beside him, curled carefully into his side with all the peace of someone who’d just made love to a partner they’d long believed dead. It drew a smooth tranquility over each crease and furrow that once dared to disturb your delicate face, your lips parted crookedly due to your cheek’s positioning against his chest. 

Dawn creeped closer and closer with the looming threat of what he’d soon be forced to accept while sleep drifted farther from his reach. His eyes burned as they stared down at your slumbering figure for hours on end, willing himself to be able to see every atom that worked in angelic harmony to make up his love the way his six eyes once allowed him the privilege of. He only grew more restless as the mundanity of his pupils only graced him with the surface level of your fathomless allure. 

Blinking away the haze that had glazed over his tired eyes, Satoru looked away from you for the first time in hours to glance at the time on the clock. It wouldn’t be long before your wretched alarm would be waking you to get ready and shoulder the burden that was once his alone. With a huff of vexation, he carefully maneuvered himself out from under you, replacing himself with the body pillow you always used in his absence. 

A strained wince escaped him as he stood quietly from the bed, yet no amount of stretching seemed to soothe what he feared would be an everpresent ache. Willing himself through it, he used his foot to scoop his discarded sweatpants up in order to avoid bending down and reminding himself of his deficits.

The lights of the kitchen nearly blinded his sleepless irises when he flicked them on, and he groaned while attempting to adjust to the sudden onslaught. His shoulders fell slowly as he looked around the kitchen in uncertainty, opening up various cabinets until he found the small collection of bento boxes the two of you had accumulated over the years. 

Gojo chewed at his bottom lip in concentration, rummaging through nearly every utensil drawer and refrigerator shelf in his pursuit. It was actually a damn miracle he didn’t wake you up in his chaotic gathering of tools and ingredients— what with each grunt of effort as he squatted and reached above his head in search of a specific pot or seasoning. 

Despite his best efforts to take it easy, his mounting frustration only grew with each tremor of his hand as he attempted to cut up the leftover salmon you two had eatent the night before into tiny chunks. With a shake of his head, he tightened his grip around the base of the knife in determination, praying to whichever god had forsaken him that he could just do this one thing for you. 

In typical Gojo fashion, there was a trail of chaos being left in his wake— bonito flakes spilled about the counter and used utensils strewn all around him by the time he was finally finishing up what would have been a simple project if at the hands of anyone else. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of your alarm going off in the next room, and it had him speeding up his movements in a frantic attempt to get everything organized before you stepped out. 

“Toru?” Your voice was still laced with sleep by the time your gentle footsteps were making their way out into the kitchen. 

Washing off the remaining bits of sticky rice clinging to his fingers, he swiveled around to face you. Your eyes widened a bit upon seeing the flush of effort still staining his face, but he smiled tiredly at you nonetheless, a subtle timidness behind his eyes that you hadn’t seen on him in so long. Stepping forward slowly, you eyed him carefully as he wiped his trembling hands on his already stained sweatpants. 

“You sleep okay?” He mumbled into the crown of your head as he pulled you into his chest, careful not to mess up the style you had placed it in for work. 

“Yeah,” You answered hesitantly, pressing a kiss to his chest before pulling away from him and adjusting your bag over your shoulder. “What are you doing up so early?”

Averting his gaze from you bashfully, he turned around to grab the neatly folded bag to present to you, weighed down by the brim-stuffed bento box he had placed in it. Staring down at it to avoid looking in your eyes, he pursed his lips awkwardly as though embarrassed by his attempt at packing you a lunch. 

“They’ll probably be up your ass all day since they’ve been short.” Satoru began, his fingers drumming quietly against the bag with a small shrug of his shoulders. “Don’t need you passing out on me.”

His attempted chuckle at his half-hearted joke came out hesitantly as he watched you blink owlishly down at the bag outstretched to you in offering. You slowly took the bag from him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your glossed lips. He reached up to scratch at the nape of his neck in uncertainty. 

“It’s just some rice balls, but I can probably go out today and get some—”

You cut him off, reaching up onto your tip-toes to press an appreciative kiss to his jaw. 

“What would I do without you?” Your love-sick smile caught him by surprise, a dumb-struck expression falling onto his flushed face. 

Before he could stammer out a response (not that his short-circuiting mind would be capable of coherent speech right now), you pressed one more, longing kiss to his lips before promising to see him later that night and rushing out the door. 

Satoru stared absently at the door that had just closed behind you as a gradual understanding flooded his consciousness. Perhaps it was just because it had been so long since he felt the need to fight for your approval, or maybe it was that he simply never learned his lesson, no matter how much you had worked to engrain it into him over all these years. It was hardly fair to blame him though, given that all the love he’d ever been shown had those six eyes of his trailing not too far behind. 

But you— you had never batted an eye at his status, or his money, and certainly not his powers. All those years ago it had only taken some horribly disfigured rice balls for you to fall for him, stubbornly never too impressed by his technique or silver tongue. 

It was a few, lovingly crafted onigiri that helped you recognize his place in your life, and it was the very thing that, even all these years later, was helping him recognize it as well.

a/n: inner theater kid effectively placated thank u

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

[daughter-of-sapph0]

I said it before in a previous rant, but I feel like this story needs repeating for no particular reason whatsoever.

my middle school was very small. there was only one class of 18 kids in the entire 6th grade. we had to deal with each other every single day. I only started this school in 6th grade, but some of these kids have known each other since pre-k. so when I joined, I was a stranger, an outcast, someone different. and having undiagnosed autism did not help at all.

one of my classmates was named Jacob. he was the only kid shorter than me. but he was an aggressive bully. every day, he'd grab me, slap me, pull my hair. he'd torment me physically, call me names, the whole shebang. typical bully stuff. there was never a reason for this, other than I was a new kid. I was a faggot. I was a downey. I was a retard. I was a sissy. I was a pussy. I was "the other". I think Jacob somehow knew I was trans and queer about five years before I did, and treated me as you'd expect.

every single day, I'd complain to my teachers and the principal. "Jacob is bullying me. he's hitting me, calling me names, harassing me, even after I tell him to leave me alone". and the responses I got did not help.

"just leave. walk away" gee, thanks. I'd love to. unfortunately I'm stuck in a classroom with him all day. unless you're gonna let me go home early, your advice is worthless.

"stop being a tattletale" and just let him continue to bully me? wow, thanks for being a supportive adult figure in my life...

and I'll never forget what my hardcore conservative catholic principal said to me. "if you don't want him to call you a faggot, then stop being a faggot".

in all of these situations of begging for help, not once did Jacob ever face consequences for his actions. even when I showed them the bruises and horrible notes he gave me. even when the harassment happened right in front of the teachers. the most he would ever receive is "hey, both of you, stop fighting!" even though it was always one sided and I never fought back.

until one day on the bus. he was in the seat behind me, poking my head, slapping me, trying to get my attention. I was already pissed that day, and Jacob was only making things worse. I told him to stop. repeatedly. to just leave me alone. but he didn't.

without thinking about it, I tried to swat away his hands. but I ended up brushing my hand against his face. he interpreted this as a slap. he immediately got off the bus at his stop and ran home crying.

that afternoon, my mom got a phone call saying that I was at risk of being expelled. apparently, Jacob had told his parents that I had beat him up, and his parents called the school.

in the end, because of my accidental unintentional "slap" that I had only done because I was angry and wanted to be left alone and stop being bullied, I was suspended for a week, forced to write a handwritten apology note to Jacob, and fell behind in my classes.

Jacob was never punished. he never faced consequences for his actions. he was always seen as the victim by adults. I was the aggressor since I was mad and complained about being bullied.

soon after this, I attempted suicide. I backed out, thankfully. but I can't stop thinking about how my life almost ended because no one cared about the harassment I faced.

being harassed, and having no one do anything about it, which causes you to get angry until you act a tiny bit irrational and upset, and suddenly you're punished much harder than your attackers ever were and ever will be.

I'm saying this for no reason at all. it totally doesn't apply to any real life situations happening right now on tumblr.

[shawtylex09]

⋆˙⟡Panic Attack. Izuku Midoriya x Fem!Reader.⟡⋆˙

A fic with maybe a tiny bit of angst and reverse comfort.

Masterlist

🥀🌸

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

Izuku woke up with a smile. You'd invited him to go roller skating after school today! You. His crush. He sat up and stretched, his muscles a bit achy from training and working out the previous day.

A yawn left his lips as he began to think about the day. He stood from his bed and rubbed the remaining fatigue from his eyes. Izuku started to his bathroom.

Izuku's thoughts began to wander as he himself wandered to his bathroom. He smiled as he began to think of you. Your pretty hair, gentle eyes and your laugh. He really thought you were amazing.

He had such a large crush on you, after all, you were amazing! You were intelligent, strong, determined- you never gave up no matter what the world threw at you. You were so confident, and nothing like him.

Oh..

Right..

He frowned as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Izuku sighed. You were so beautiful, and he'd been getting so excited about this 1 on 1 hang out session, that he totally forgot.

You were just being friendly.

There was no way around it. He couldn't honestly believe you liked him. There was no way. You were so effortlessly cool and wicked smart with cool talents and hobbies..

..why would you bat an eye at a worthless no one like him?

Izuku felt his thoughts start to spiral, feeling his heart starting to crack in his chest. He took a deep breath and turned on the faucet in his bathroom, cupping his hands under the stream of water and splashing his face with the cool water.

However, the water couldn't pull him from the insecurity and growing doubt bubbling in him. He looked at his reflection, his hands tightly gripping the sink as he stared. Izuku had wild and messy hair, his stupid freckles he was embarrassed of, the slight dark circles under his eyes from late night studying and his whack sleep scheduel.

As he stewed on his appearance, he began to think back to his personality. He was a nerd, definitely, and had some obsessions. Surely, NO ONE would bat an eye at such a-

"Creep!"

"weirdo..."

"Deku!"

"Quirkless freak."

"Defenseless!"

"Wannabe"

Suddenly, Izuku wasn't in the bathroom of his UA dorm, he was right back in the damned middle school classroom. All alone. Just like he deserved.

Izuku's breaths picked up as he backed away from the mirror, his back hitting the wall. His eyes welled up with tears as he started to re-remember the horrible things that had been said about him/to him.

He felt himself begin to cry, but couldn't hear it. He felt dizzy, he felt sick. Izuku slowly melted to the floor, panting and beginning to sob as he grabbed at his throat, trying to breath.

Air didn't fill his lungs.

He felt so scared..

So alone..

so..hopeless..

Meanwhile .~*

You, Uraraka, and Iida, had been waiting to walk to school with Izuku like usual. You checked the time on your phone and hummed, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear in thought. "Hey guys? Freckles doesn't usually take this long to get ready in the morning, does he?"

Uraraka hummed and rubbed her chin, also glancing at the time on the clock on the wall. "Yeah, you've got a point..is Deku not feeling well?"

Iida glanced at the both of you, before taking a step towards the boys' hall. "I'll go check on hi-"

Uraraka giggled and stepped in front of Iida "Hey Y/n~ you should go check on Deku!" She said with a mischievous smile, typical Uraraka.

You blushed and rubbed the back of your neck, sighing and looking away with a bashful expression "Don't say it like that, I know exactly what you're getting at- it's not like that."

The girls had noticed your not so little crush on Izuku, and pounced on you. Hagakure and Mina were the worst about the teasing, while Jiro and Yao-momo tried to encourage you to act on your feelings.

Uraraka groaned, her shoulders sagging as she dramatically expressed her dismay with your insistence on the platonic nature of your feelings for Izuku.

You stared at her before offering her a heavy sigh. "Fine, I'll go check on Midoriya, you two go on ahead today." You relented with a roll of your eyes at Uraraka's visible happiness.

After some parting words, you started your journey to the elevator, using a brisk pace to ensure you'd get to his room and to school, on time.

After a quick elevator ride, and walk to Izuku's dorm, you knocked on his door.

...

Nothing.

You sighed and smiled, figuring he'd slept in, he had been up late training.

"Hey, Freckles, you up?" You question as you knocked a little bit louder on his door. As you wait, you start to feel anxious. Izuku wasn't a terribly deep sleeper, but sometimes he could get in a pretty thick sleep.

You frowned at the nerves growing in your stomach. You sighed and knocked louder this time, wanting to make sure he was alright. "Midoriya? Are you awake?"

After hearing nothing for the third time, you grab the handle "I'm coming in." You called through the door with obvious concern in your voice.

You twisted the handle and opened the door, that's when you heard it-

-crying.

You stiffen at the sound of Izuku's sobs. Instantly you bolt inside of his dorm and dash to his bathroom.

You found him on his knees, gripping onto his chest and hyperventilating while sobbing.

"Hey! Midoriya!" You slide to your knees and gently wrapped your arms around him, pulling the distraught boy to rest his head on your chest, his tears and heavy breaths littering your senses.

Inside, you're panicking yourself. Why was he crying? What was going on? You shake off your worries and let out a shaky breath, before gingerly combing your fingers through his hair.

Izuku looked up at you with hazy eyes, his breaths shallow, quick and uneven. "Izuku, hey.." You tenderly palmed his freckled cheek, gently running your thumb over his soft skin.

"Breathe with me," You softly encouraged, tenderly speaking in a quiet and soft tone.

Izuku's breathing began to slightly slow as you gently ebbed away the panic and insecurity that had spiraled into a full blown panic attack.

It didn't take too long before your soft words and careful movements turned him into a whimpering and hiccupping mess. Izuku hated how pathetic he seemed. He hated how vulnerable he was with you. He must've looked so weak- so fragile.

You must've thought he was so annoying.

"I-I'm s-orry-" he managed to choke out, his voice small and shaky.

You looked down at him with a soft gaze. "Zuku" the nickname made his heart flutter in his chest and a small blush gently dust his cheeks. "You dont have to apologize."

Your soft words made his tears return. All of the pent up emotion and stress just- bubbled up.

he sucked in a deep breath and choked out a sob, "I-I know- i just..I-I dont wanna feel weak and I-I j-just think you're s-so amazing a-and you're so pretty a-and I d-don't know wh-why you'd want t-to h-hang out with a g-guy like me. I-I just like y-you s-so much and-"

₊˚⊹♡Chu♡⊹˚₊

Time seemed to stand still for Izuku as he felt a very soft pair of lips meet his. His eyes widened as he looked at your face.

You pulled back and smiled softly at the flabbergasted boy. His face was beet red and his mouth moved up and down, words trying to string together comprehensively.

"Y-you j-just- you- my- you k-kissed-" Izuku stuttered dumbly, his freckled face bright red and his eyes as wide as saucers.

You simply laughed and cupped his cheeks "You said you liked me, right?" you said softly, affection undeniably flooding your gaze. He could only nod as he gaped at you.

"I like you too, okay? I just thought that you'd never like someone like me." You said with a simple shrug.

Izuku dissolved into small tears again, his bottom lip wobbly "You..like me..? Wh-Why me..?"

You almost laughed out loud, but instead gave him a small, shy smile "why you? Why not you? You're cute and funny and you're so smart. You have such a pure heart and you bust your ass to get what you want. You're amazing and so sweet, not to mention you're very pretty."

Your words, so heartfelt and shy in nature, made Izuku blush, and his eyes drip with the small tears. "I-...I dont know what to say" he whimpered "Thank you" Was all Izuku could manage as he pressed his face into your chest, trembling slightly from the adrenaline of his panic attack.

"You're welcome, Izuku." You mumbled as you placed a small kiss on top of his head. He felt a weight lift off of his chest, and smiled softly, closing his eyes as he relished in your embrace, before pulling away.

"W-we have to get ready for class.." He mumbled, his eyes still a bit red from crying, and his nose a bit stuffy. You gasped and chuckled "Yeah! You're right-" You grinned down at him and cupped his cheek "I'll let you change, Iida and Ochaco already left for school, so we can walk together."

Izuku blushed as you cupped his cheek, leaning into your touch with a shy smile "Okay..then lets do that" He said with a soft tone. You nodded and leaned down, gently pressing another quick kiss to his lips, before pulling back and smiling.

He flushed bright red and watched as you stood, offering your hand. Izuku smiled a little and took it, pulling himself up with your assistance. "Get dressed, I'll be waiting for you" You said with a goofy grin.

Izuku nodded as you turned. He suddenly grabbed you, his cheeks bright red as he gently took your hand in his, making you turn. He closed his eyes tightly and leaned in, pressing a shy kiss to your cheek "I-I'll be ready soon"

Your eyes widened, and cheeks melted into a rosy red color. You nodded and put a hand on your cheek "yeah..okay.." you mumbled as you spun around, walking out of Izukus room.

You leaned against Izukus dorm door and sighed, a huge smile pulling at your lips as you touched your cheek.

Izuku covered his face with his hands and smiled into his palms, a bright blush on his cheeks.

They're both so whipped.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

WHOOOOO im so tired frfr. its 11:13pm for me and ive been away from my house since 3:00pm. im gonna take a nice hot shower and go tf to sleep. if anyone has any suggestions/requests, just comment :)

[peachesnplums95]

💜🍑Shadowpeach: Lessons Of The HeArt💜🍑

MINORS/KIDS DO NOT INTERACT!

MINORS/KIDS DO NOT INTERACT!

MINORS/KIDS DO NOT INTERACT!

Had a Shadowpeach fanfiction idea, please do not steal this idea and use it as your own. I am going to write it on my own. Anyways I just wanted to share the concept with y'all before I started writing chapters.

Set After S5 Finale

-Lessons Of The HeArt-

At twilight, on a relatively peaceful day on Flower Fruit Mountain, Sun Wukong visits one of the many summits on the island. This is no usual visit, for today marks the day of the gravest mistake in his immortal life. Today is the tragic anniversary of when he murdered his former best friend the Six-Eared Macaque in cold blood.

Although Macaque had somehow miraculously come back from the dead, and while they weren't on a collision course to shatter each other out of the sky anymore, and even though things aren't as tense between them- it's still hard to stand besides one another without old wounds being reopened somehow.

Missing days long since gone by, Wukong goes to the one place he feels he can be close to Macaque without having to suffer through the ice-cold chill that surrounds his shadow.

Only for Wukong to find out, much to his agony and white-hot fury that someone has vandalized the boulder he and Macaque had painted on centuries ago.

When Wukong finds out that some heartless bastard has defiled the image of Macaque on the rock, it's positively drenched, dripping and splattered in paint, and there's a X marked over it-

He decides to follow the only clue left behind by the culprit. Readying to reap sweet and swift revenge down on whoever did this, Wukong tracks the trail of paint to a cave he didn't know existed on Flower Fruit Mountain.

There he finds some of his monkeys, who are also covered in speckles of paint, and there's paint on their tails and paws, but he doesn't think for a moment they did that. He suspects that they have caught the one, who defaced the painted portrait of his former best friend and have been keeping guard outside the cave, so they don't escape.

Wukong thanks them and tells them to stand back and that he'll handle it from here. However, as he moves forward, his little monkey subjects start acting odd, crooning and chattering with distress.

He can't understand what they're saying, there's too many of them talking at once, so he tries calming them down with reassurances.

He leaps into the cave-

Only to come face to face with his dark mirror.

And feel utterly horrible for thinking what he thought, because when he sees who it is that actually "vandalized" the painting-

He realizes that's not the case at all, and he's been thinking horrible, horrible things about this certain person all while he followed the paint trail back to the cave.

It's Macaque.

Macaque is curled in on himself in a makeshift nest, he's covered in paint stains, and a paint brush is held haphazardly in his tail tip. There's an assorted sea of alcohol bottles all over the cave floor, and the shadow is shaking in his nest.

Macaque is drunk off of his sorry tail, and he's weeping.

As it turns out, Macaque got it into his drunken-head to try and do some restoration on the rock painting, but he fucked it all up and spilled paint everywhere and it blotched out his painted picture on the rock.

So, in drunk distress he X'd himself out and retreated to his cave to wallow in his woe. After Macaque tells Wukong what he tried to do, and how he fucked it up because he's worthless and not good for nothing and nobody-

Wukong can't just leave him like that.

So, he takes his weepy-eyed warrior to get cleaned up and calmed down.

And one thing leads to another, and somehow Wukong convinces Macaque to take painting lessons with him, so when the times comes, they can restore the rock painting together!

Surely this won't backfire in ways Wukong never imagined, right?

Or could it really be considered backfiring when it makes Sun Wukong feel like he has his best friend (and maybe something more than he bargained for) back?

_

_

_

MINORS/KIDS DO NOT INTERACT!

MINORS/KIDS DO NOT INTERACT!

MINORS/KIDS DO NOT INTERACT!

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim AU: Mermay Special

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: mer/vampire whumper, mer/vampire whumpee, whumper-turned-whumpee, dehydration, claustrophobia, starvation, torture, brief death wish, recovery, caretaking

have something special for mermay :) inspired by this fanart my friend lostie drew 2 years ago!!

-

It hadn’t rained in a week, Jim’s freshwater had run out the day before, and he was going to die.

He knew he was going to die. Kane would come back to feed, and his body wouldn’t be able to hold up anymore, and he would die. Either with Kane’s jaws clamped around him, or later, alone in the damp cold sand.

He wasn’t thirsty enough to be desperate yet, not desperate enough to drink the abundant saltwater taunting him from his prison’s little beach. He knew it would only make him die faster. It was poison.

It hardly mattered at this point. Months with no rescue likely meant no rescue at all, and this was hardly a life. Still, something cried out in him, wanting to live.

Jim scrambled against the rock as he saw that telltale fin start to poke out of the water, more and more until the vampire revealed himself in full, the head and torso of a man and the tail-end of a shark. Not that there was anywhere for Jim to use his worthless legs to run to.

“Food.” Kane slung half a seal onto the surface, raw yet unbloodied.

Jim cautiously crept forward. “I need water.”

Kane raised an eyebrow at him, then splashed him, leaving him soaked.

“Fresh water,” he pressed, pointing up to the clear sky. “Rainwater. I need it or I’ll die. Please, just take me back to the beach, any beach where there’s humans. I won’t be any use to you dead. You’re not some animal, you know this isn’t right, please!”

“Human mine,” Kane dismissed firmly.

Jim sobbed drily. “I can’t. I can’t. You’re going to kill me.”

“Eat.” Kane shoved the meat toward him, making him flinch back. “Then I eat.”

Jim looked to the sky, Kane’s hungry eyes never leaving him as he devoured the vampire’s leftovers. If it didn’t rain tomorrow, he wouldn’t make it another day.

“Human.” Kane gestured him forward as soon as he finished.

“No, no, I don’t want to!” Jim backed up to the rock again, even knowing it was useless.

Kane huffed, climbing up onto the sand. “Food,” he called him now, a warning tone to his voice, piercing red eyes growing angry.

“Stop,” Jim insisted, squeezing his eyes shut. “No!”

A clawed hand grabbed his leg, any attempt to kick him away futile. He couldn’t match a vampire’s strength on his best day, and this was not his best day.

He cried out as sharp teeth dug into flesh once again, feeling much like the seal in his stomach.

-

Kane whined softly, squirming against the glass.

The fishers had put him in a smaller tank again. He couldn’t be sure–though he learned more of their language every awful day, there were still gaps–but he was near-certain it was a game to them, at this point, how small of a space they could force him to live in. He didn’t need to know their language to see their smirks.

He hadn’t even meant to break the last one. He had been trying so hard this time, and he’d been asleep when it happened. Even so, the fishers left him gasping on the floor in a pile of broken glass for hours. Even the tiny tank was better than none at all. How far he’d fallen, that he could consider this lucky.

Kane wished he could go back to complaining about not having room to swim. He would do anything to go back to the first tank. This one hardly afforded him room to move, to breathe. No matter how he tried to position himself, he always ended up touching the walls, his tail bunched up uncomfortably.

The water was too salty, burning his gills with every breath. He didn’t dare complain about that again. Last time, they left him in that horrible freshwater humans love so much until he screamed and bled to the point where any other fish would die.

But he was a vampire, and there was no driftwood here.

Every time a fisher walked past, Kane tensed. Some carried cruel metal tools, meant for fish already dead, though he’d already known their sting far more than he’d like. Some carried cruel metal tools and looked at him, making him wish he had anywhere to hide.

“Comfy?” a fisher mocked, tapping the glass with the end of his fishing stick, the unavoidable vibrations reverberating wherever he touched it.

Kane shook his head, hoping the answer was acceptable.

“Good. �̴̢̛̙̃̎̀̏͌�̶͙̪̉̃̐͋̈̈́̉͝�̵̛̹̪̳̾́̏̂̏̊͊�̴̤̬͖͖̬̹̣̏�̴̧̹͓͒̋͝�̸͎̝̂̅͋�̴̧͚͍̼̠͌�̵̤̜̻̦̬̄͒̏̃ little display case, leech. �̸͖̞̩̳̒̿͐̚͝ͅ�̴̢̫̺̟̺̬̯͔̋̄�̶̧̺̯͚̳͎͉̆͆̀̉̍�̵͚͈͛̌̑̚�̷̰͝͝�̴̢̡̯̗̖̥̈́̑̄̅̃̀̎̕ feed you this week.”

He perked up at the mention of food, whining louder this time.

The fisher laughed, flicking one of those foul little ash-and-paper cylinders into his tank. “Eat it.”

It would make him sick, but far worse would come of disobeying orders. Maybe the fisher would allow him some food if he obeyed. Kane wriggled until he could position himself enough to reach the bottom of the tank, scooped it up, and swallowed it down.

Another fisher joined him, saying something he couldn’t understand and nodding at his tank before approaching.

Nothing good ever happened when he was taken from his tank.

“No, no, no!” he wailed as his head breached the surface, his salt-lined gills burning all the more against unforgiving air.

-

Jim didn’t go to the beach anymore.

After months stranded and years after living in fear, he never thought he’d get even ten miles near a coastline. Not even twenty. Yet here he was, getting within two, just to see the damn vampire. Just to confirm it’s him.

The scars on his arms and legs floated the vague line between hurt and not, leaving him unsure if it was in his head.

The smell of distant saltwater made him want to vomit.

Jim greeted the fishers in a daze, letting them lead him to the vampire that might be his.

And there he was.

Kane looked worse for wear. He was littered with more scars than Jim was, trapped in a tank barely wider than his body, and even his body looked near-emaciated. His wide eyes locked onto Jim with sudden, harsh terror, and he squirmed as if to try to get away.

“Why’s he… in there?” he asked dumbly.

“Gotta keep a vampire reeeal secure, you of all people know you can’t trust the fuckers. Give ‘em an inch and they’ll take a mile. Can’t move around, don’t have the energy to fight, knows it’s got hurt coming if it tries, that’s the safe way to keep ‘em,” the fisher explained.

Jim couldn’t look him in the eyes after that, so he looked at the tank instead.

“Kane?”

Kane whimpered, pressed against the back of the tank, though that only left him what looked like a couple inches away from the front of it. Jim felt claustrophobic just looking at it.

“So?” the fisher prompted.

“This is him.” Jim took a step forward, hesitantly pressing a hand to the glass. He was really here, powerless to hurt him again.

But Kane was hurt, and terrified, and trapped somewhere small and uncomfortable. There was no way he could leave him here.

“Do you think… I could take him?”

-

Every day, humans came to the aquarium in droves. As an unending mercy, Kane’s tank here was large, with ample places to hide. He never came out while the humans were visiting.

No one hurt him at the aquarium. He always had enough to eat at the aquarium. The workers always smiled at him when he surfaced for his meals. Not the malicious smiles of the fishers, but real ones, like they were friends. They talked to him like he was a person, and he was getting better at talking back, and they didn’t even get mad at him when he wouldn’t come out for the guests. Bellamy slipped him an extra fish and told him he deserved it for being a trooper. He didn’t know what a trooper was, but it sounded good when he said it.

Maybe he would start showing himself, one day, just to make them happy. Maybe if it ever stopped being scary.

As it stood, there was only one guest Kane would leave his hidey-hole for. Thankfully, they allowed him to come just after closing, away from the crowds.

“Hey,” Jim greeted. “Just came to, uh, check up on you. Make sure you’re still doing alright.”

Kane couldn’t speak underwater, and Jim was nowhere close to the top of the roomy tank, so he nodded. He looked at his hand, trying to remember the sign for a second, before making a ‘thumbs-up’.

“You’re okay? You’re happy? No one’s hurting you? They’re feeding you good? Helping you with medical stuff?” Jim asked.

Kane nodded again, smiling this time. He tried not to show his teeth.

Jim sat by the tank. “That’s good. I’m happy for you, man. You know how long ‘til the doc clears you to go home?”

It wouldn’t be long, now. He was gaining the weight back, his injuries had healed, and the exercises he’d been given were helping him learn to swim normally again. Soon, he would be able to survive in the ocean, just like before any of this nightmare had ever happened.

Bellamy said they could do a program together, if he wanted, where guests would come to learn about vampires and ask him questions. He said Kane didn’t have to if he didn’t want to, but winked and promised him some of his blood if he gave it a try.

No fisher could catch him again if he stayed at the aquarium. People would protect him at the aquarium.

Kane shrugged, not sure he would ever leave.

-

sorry all i can write are AUs lol <3 they're warming me up for the main series i prommy

taglist in reblogs!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for threatening to become a girl's step dad to troll her into blocking me and stop dragging me in a group chat ? Jenny (23F) blew up because I (24NB) said she'd be a shitty social worker bc of her specific autism symptoms + class bg. My gf (45F) said it was warranted because of how  overwhelmed i got by the wall of text with triggering details of my abuse. I never told my GF that the fight started because Jenny called me a gold digger. I also never mentioned that I ended it an hour later by posting pics of Jenny's mom in the chat, ignoring her ranting and discussing the vacancy left by her dead dad*, and how i could fill said vacancy. 😬😬😬 Might of gone too far with this one.

Backstory: I lived with Jenny when I was houseless indefinitely. She only let me stay for two weeks because it would be too "distracting" to her studies. Jenny was incredibly rich, didn't work, and her parents paid her rent for a 2 bedroom. She admitted she got rejected from every grad school she applied to except for the one her mom was in charge of. Her mom bought her a condo in the city the school was in. She kept asking me how she should decorate it, completely ignorant to how uncomfortable this made me and my other friends. Jenny was oblivious constantly to how she made others feel. She was actually the most incompetent person I've ever met in terms of comforting other, always tone deaf and completely absorbed with her own, single traumatic event. She made constant jokes about the abuser I was fleeing and even compared this stalked to a /serial killer/ documentary she watched, but never EVER showed any signs of internalizing how I almost lost my life to another person, how that might affect me or even just bum me out. Seriously, I've never met someone else who was so incapable of even being sensitive to issues that were /EXTREMELY SERIOUS/. Forget comforting, the stuff she routinely said to me and my other friends to try to cheer us up was beyond degrading. It was wearing on me a lot.

Jenny herself was neurodivergent. She often said her autism prevented her from understanding the feelings others had, reading their expressions, and tolerating crying or loud noise-- she forbid her musician roommate from doing both. None of those mean shes a worthless person, but all of those things would make someone a horrible therapist or social worker. Oh my God, literally every time I talked about my recent trauma, she would talk about herself and then blame her autism when I told her it just wasn't helping.

The final piece of this was I had a nervous breakdown and screamed at her over discord that she was a shit friend and needed to give up on social work, for like an hour. NOT MY PROUDEST, but I ALMOST DIED. I was living with her because SOMEONE WAS STALKING ME. and I would have liked to not have my abuse JOKED about. HOW DID JENNY RESPOND!? She began dragging me, through the mud, in the group chat, for, dating, an, older, woman, who, paid, for, my, air bnb, because, !!!she!!! wouldn't let me live with her for more than a week. I was HOMELESS. It became all about "OP you are such a b*tch, you are with a woman twice your age and she pays for everything now but you are still a miserable and angry person. You are so blah blah blah you are an ableist, you said I can't become a social worker bc of autism blah blah blah you have major major issues, Go back your rich granny and leech off of her you useless, fucked up little gold digger."

U_U Then, she started graphically describing how I deserved my abuse, so I shrimply began to troll. And yes, I pulled out my magnum oppus like fucking playing blue eyes white dragon, oh yeah I slipped her a pristine Jenny's mom facebook photo and said "Hey you never said your mom was so cute. Maybe, I could leech off her next and become your new dad." Yes, her dad died.* She blocked me immediately. Its OK. It was knives out for Jenny as soon as my GF gifted me a pair of $700 Isabel Marant shoes** , the most EXPENSIVE thing ive ever owned in my whole life, and Jenny saw me excited and called her mom to buy her a pair. It's, absolutely OK, if I am the asshole. I wear my crown of thorns, judas that I am, but I really, really think Jenny was being cruel. *he died 18 years ago ** the shoes are no more because i fell into my gf's rich friend's koi pond

[binsito]

tired

pairing: lee felix x fem reader

genre: bff!felix, pining, angst

word count: 2.4k

rating: mature, includes: unprotected sex, mentions of fingering and f receiving oral, it's pretty vanilla just kinda angsty, petnames like "baby", "pretty boy", and "princess" are used, felix is ur bff that's in love with you and you have horrible dating experiences with shitty people

felix was tired of having to wipe your tears.

was tired of having to listen to you talk in extensive detail over how shitty the guys you've dated have been.

how they hurt you, how they toss you aside and make you feel little.

was tired of having to pick up the pieces of your broken heart, patching them back into place only for you to go and get it torn right out of your chest all over again.

he was absolutely sick of it.

but most of all he was sick of you telling him how your lovers always fell short.

how the sex was mediocre, how they left you high and dry, chasing their own pleasure and leaving you hanging - utterly unfulfilled and upset.

he was sick of you telling him how many orgasms you've faked, how many times you've lied about how big their cock was in hopes that maybe that would push them to fuck you harder.

how they never knew where your clit was, always rubbing the skin next to it painfully hard or rubbing your folds - never where you needed them the most.

felix would never do you like that.

he wouldn't dream of giving you frustrating, god awful, pathetic sex.

felix wanted nothing more than to pull orgasm after orgasm from you, lapping your sweet cream with his tongue, dying to taste you, to have you shake under him.

he wanted to let you use him, he wanted to be a toy for you, for you to mount him and get off on him. he wanted to be good for you, to take whatever you gave him, to have you cum around his cock while he looked up at you with bleary eyes.

was that too much to ask for?

it was all he ever wanted..

he would never hurt you, would never leave you, would never make you feel worthless.

he wanted you to be his princess, he wanted you to only look at him and not those lazy excuses of a partner.

but he was just your best friend.

and you would never look at him that way.

"thank you for picking me up lix.." you said softly, breaking him out of his thoughts

you had called him to come pick you up from some guy's house, felix already knew that the guy had disappointed you in one way or another but he didn't say anything.

this was routine.

"i-i'm sorry for calling you so late.. he just didn't seem like he wanted me to stay the night so.. i felt weird asking if i could.." he just nodded, not wanting to say anything for fear of saying something brash.

"is it.. alright if you just take me back to yours? i would feel so bad if you drove all the way back to my apartment.." "s'fine yeah? you know i'd never say no to you.." he mumbled

and that was true.

he was physically incapable of telling you no, no matter how hard he tried. you could ask him to wrestle a bear for you and he would do it, no questions asked.

the rest of the ride back to his place was quiet, he didn't even bother turning the radio on. he just wanted to lay in bed, hoping you would spare him the details of your encounter because he feared he would go ballistic, could potentially show up at that guys place and fuck him up if he had done anything to you.

you took the right side of the bed, that was your spot. felix was very particular about what side was whose, you always thought it was funny. you didn't care much for sides, especially if you were drunk or super exhausted, any side was a good side.

he laid there, back towards you while you stared up at the ceiling. he could tell you were going to have trouble sleeping tonight. you barely slept if you had a mind full of racing thoughts. normally he would curl up into your sides or have you fall asleep on his chest but he was also spent.

tired.

tired of the constant back and forth. of always being the one waiting for you at the end of the tunnel.

tired of having to be strong for you, so you had someone to lean on when things went to shit.

"i-is there.. something wrong with me?"

oh god.

he could hear the tears in your voice.

shit.

"what? no, fuck no." he's quick to answer. "why would there be anything wrong with you?.." "then why does this always happen?.."

"because shitty guys tend to take advantage of sweet and beautiful girls like you.."

"i-im not-" "yes, you are.. you're the prettiest girl i know and trust me, i fucking hate seeing you like this.." his voice was soft yet stern, hoping the words would stick with you.

you were pretty.

prettier than any flower he's every picked, prettier than any sunset he's ever seen, prettier than any star he's ever counted.

and he's counted a lot.

trying hard to find you in a galaxy far away but never coming close.

always just too out of reach.

maybe he'd be a little more lucky in a different lifetime.

"i-i'm sorry lix.. i must be so annoying.. always asking you for help whenever i do something stupid.." "i love you.. that's what i'm here for.." he loved you.

his body was screaming for you to realize the weight of his words.

i love you, i love you, i love you!

"i love you too lix.."

but not in the way i love you, right?

of course not.

you both fall quiet but the room felt so loud, so unbearably loud. like the walls were laughing at you both, pointing and mocking.

felix shut his eyes, not wanting to feel anything anymore and hoping to fall asleep right away.

he was hoping you'd follow suit, that you would just go to bed after this and you two could carry on like you always did.

"i just wish i could find someone like you.. i wish i could just date you instead of wasting my time over and over again.."

felix wished you never said that.

that you had just let this go and had just gone to bed.

and part of him was so angry because couldn't you see how hard he tried for you? how incredibly lovesick he was?

"you should just go to bed." he spoke, not meaning to sound so cold. you obviously picked up on his tone.

"lix i'm sorry that was weird right?-"

"no, but it pissed me off because yeah.. wouldn't it have saved you all the trouble if you just dated me?" "lixie i didn't mean to-" "didn't mean to upset me, i get it. but i'm gonna be upset regardless because i've been going through this with you for far too long and i am just so.. fucking.. tired.

when i say i love you, i'm not just saying it because i feel like it or because you're my best friend.. i'm saying it because i fucking love you and i'm dying for you to just pick me for once.."

you felt so little at this moment.

so, so stupid.

the crazy thing was, you knew how he felt but you always just pushed it aside as nothing. that maybe you were reading into the way he liked holding your hand too much. that you were crazy to ever think your best friend could feel something more for you than just platonic friendship.

you opened your mouth to speak but ultimately fell silent.

how would you even answer? what could you even possibly say?

he figured he fucked up, about to turn away again and pretend he didn't just say the craziest shit ever. god, he wished he could just vanish.

"lix.. please don't be mad at me.. i-i'm sorry.."

if there was something you hated more than the guys you've slept with, it's feeling like you hurt felix.

"just stop apologizing please-"

"no.. you can't just say you love me and then try pushing me away.." you spoke, trying to keep your voice from faltering or sounding weak.

"i don't want to complicate things.."

"but you already did, felix."

he decided it would be best if he just slept on the couch tonight, sitting up and scooting towards the edge of the bed. your hand quickly coming over to grab his arm

"felix, please. don't leave.. we both need to stop being reckless.. you can't keep hiding your feelings and i can't keep making bad choices.. it's so bad for us." you spoke softly, your touch burning through him.

he couldn't resist you, he always sought out your warmth and soft skin.

"wouldn't dating your best friend be a bad choice?"

you couldn't help but let out a soft laugh at that.

"no.. because i know you're a good person.. you've been patient with me and i know that this might be the only good choice i'll ever make."

now he was the one trying to find words and failing to come up with a response.

but there didn't need to be any more words exchanged, you tugged him towards you and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

both of your hearts thumping nervously in your chest. it felt different but right. it was like learning to swim, you were afraid of drowning but felix was there to hold you up, kissing you back once he realized he didn't give a fuck anymore.

he loved you and he wasn't going to miss an opportunity to show you that he could love you just as you deserved.

--

it felt like the whole world was fast asleep while the two of you hastily took your clothes off. all of it strewn on the floor, bodies bare, radiating heat and harboring so many new feelings.

felix lived alone so there was no need for you to be as quiet as you were but it almost felt better this way.

you couldn't quite remember how it had escalated to this point.

maybe it was when felix let out a needy whimper against your lips or when you pulled him in close by his hair. he was so pliant, so ready to give.

you both knew you wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight anyways, so once it had gotten to this point, you both welcomed it.

"lix it's okay.." you whispered, you could see him contemplating going any further, like he was guilty about doing this.

you cupped his face and kissed his forehead softly

"i trust you..it's okay lixie.."

you trust him.

his heart felt like it could burst.

you trust him.

you trust him enough to let him have you like this, to make you feel good, to treat you well.

he wasn't going to disappoint.

he didn't care if he got to finish after this or not, his one goal in mind is to finally do all the things he'd dreamt of doing to you.

he was more worried about making sure you'd cum and were left satisfied. he let you know in advanced that he wasn't one to get embarrassed if you guided his hand or told him how to touch. he wanted to know, was eager to learn what made your toes curl.

two fingers deep inside you while his pretty lips worked diligently on your clit. your breathy moans would be engraved in his memory after this.

"oh god.. lixie.. just like that baby.." hands tangled in his long hair.

baby.

it's like you knew exactly what to say to make him crazy.

"shit.. lixie.. can't anymore.. gotta have you.." you sighed out, eyes shut tightly, your stomach coiling at the arising orgasm he was pulling from you. he pulled back and looked down at your cunt, it was basically screaming his name, fluttering around nothing, begging him to just finally breach your hole and make it his.

you wanted to cum on him, wanted to have him inside and hold him close.

he knew he was a dead man as soon as he lined up and pressed in, holding your hands gently and letting out a relieved exhale. it felt so much better than he had ever imagined, sucking him in like your cunt was made for him.

"g-god i'm not sure i'll last very long.." he chuckled

you smiled up at him and he kissed you just as he started to move gently, pacing himself in hopes of drawing this out as long as he could but in all honesty, he was dying to rut into you with all the force he could muster.

your arms wrapping around him as his forehead pressed against yours.

it was perfect.

he was perfect.

gentle and sweet, asking you if you were alright, telling you how much he loved you, how good you were taking his cock.

you could get used to this.

making love with felix.

you hated yourself for how long it took you to get here, how many heartaches and horrible exes you went through only to fall back into felix's arms time and time again.

this time you hoped to stay.

"i'm close lixie.. right there.." you whimpered, legs coming around his hips to cage him in.

he kept hitting your spot, pushing you to your peak, intensity bubbling in your tummy until it was just too much - snapping within you, your orgasm taking over all your senses.

felix cooed and sweet talked you through it, helping you ride it out as he let himself go as well, filling you with his own cum.

post nut clarity hitting him because he was so fucking worried this would ruin everything he's ever known.

he'd rather throw himself into ongoing traffic than to lose you, his best friend.

"lix.." you grabbed his face

"pretty boy.. you need to stop worrying so much.." pecking his lips gently to bring his attention back towards you.

"i promise i wanna try this with you.. i really do.. i want us to both be happy together.." he nodded and laid down on your chest, holding you close and shutting his eyes.

"i'll make you happy.. i won't let you cry anymore. i waited so long for you, princess.."

you smiled softly to yourself, playing with his hair and massaging his scalp.

you knew things would be alright for a change.

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito

[yannaryartside]

This is still all about Donna

The cyclical aspect of abuse ft Chef David

So, I wanted to add to the discussion why Carmy pursued the star so intensely, to the point of inflicting self-punishment and isolation. Why would he focus his whole identity on the evil chef after all those other beautiful experiences he also got to live?

I am going to talk on broad terms because I don’t have any studies in psychology, so you can take it all with a grain of salt; I am talking just from personal experience/instrospection. I am also not saying this applies to all victims of abuse or all types of abuse. I am talking mainly about domestic/psychological abuse.

WHY IT ALL STARTED

On the opening night, a particular set of chemicals created an explosion in Carmy's mind. He saw a man who resembled the chef who tortured him psychologically and abused him. So he goes back and starts a fight with Syd. She calms him down, but he feels lost and needs a pause, so he goes to the freezer but finds himself trapped. Then, the turmoil of flashbacks comes in of Donna and Chef David, while he thinks he failed his team and confirms the belief that he is indeed worthless, no good, and a waste of space. Donna installed this belief in Carmy, and Chef David revived it.

So he blames Claire, a relationship that (regardless of not being particularly deep or healthy) was bringing him happiness, and he decides to commit to the lie that he needs to sacrifice things that make him happy to be good (chef). At this point, Carmy has equated his worth as a human with his ability to produce a certain quality of work as a chef.

THE CYCLE

Maybe the most vile thing about abuse is its cyclical nature. If you have been abused, particularly since childhood, even if you manage to leave the environment where the abuse took place, there is a high chance you will end up in another abusive relationship/situation.

Abuse breaks your perception of self and the world around you; because of that, every relationship you have, or situation you establish will be defined by that broken perception.

Carmy grew up in an abusive household, believing there was something wrong with him that made his mother reject him and prefer his older brother. From what we can gather, none of Carmy's interests and personality traits were appreciated or encouraged in that house (besides cooking), so he was a child "terrified of speaking." He didn't have friends who could help him understand or accept himself; he missed that in very formative years. Michael (the brother he compared himself to) ended up being the real parental figure in his life (Michael divides himself between teasing him and encouraging him).

Carmy learns to love cooking because of his connection with Michael. Then Michael makes him feel rejected by casting him out. Carmy goes abroad and has really amazing experiences that allow him to know and accept himself. He gets to feel like a child again, finding and cultivating the things that he loves.

Then he finds a chef boss who is also abusive. Donna comes to life in the face of Chef David, and Carmy (who has become almost the best at this point and could have just left this place) accepts the abuse because he is afraid that both Donna and David are right, that there is something fundamentally wrong with him no matter how hard he tries.

So he goes into this season in freeze response, screaming at others because he can hear the evil chef in his head telling him how much of a waste of space he is; he needs to fight it, so he screams at everyone to have the same standard he has to obey or get killed. He is acting entirely out of fear that they are going to get him killed because they are “not perfect” or “too slow.” Because he can still feel the threat of the ghost of Chef David saying horrible things to him as he cooks. This is about self-preservation.

Also, isolation is a form of self-punishment, and he believes he needs to resolve this on his own.

THE CLAIRE PART-SELF PUNISHMENT

He tells himself that he cannot be with Claire because that is who he is and that he doesn't deserve such a good thing if it endangers the only thing that brings him value, cooking. He doesn't deserve this love that, for the first time, doesn't seem to require a big amount of sacrifice on his part. He spent most of the season reminiscent of that affection. He said she brought her peace, but I think he just meant she didn't feel worthless for once. It looks like not having girlfriends or friends (lack of meaningful connections that accept him for who he is) is a big source of insecurity for him.

The relationship was empty and superficial but was the best he had ever felt; Claire made him feel like there was nothing wrong with him, (to the point of being an enabler, yes), but it was still better for him than feeling rejected most of his life.

His most significant relationships (Mickey and Donna and sometimes Nat and Richie) were based on a push-and-pull mechanic that created an emotional distance, and he has spent most of his life trying to earn his mother's love, while he felt he didn't have to make an effort to earn Claire's love, even the most basic emotional responsibility (never apologize). The show even showed you that the relationship between Claire and Carmel would have happened if she hadn't done most of the work, emotional or otherwise.

Case in point: Sydney, a person with whom he has a lot in common, an unspoken telepathy, and a bond that can get him out of panic attacks (his previous unhealthy beliefs), is the person with whom he has the most trouble establishing a relationship because of the plot (based on his mental health), even after three seasons.

That was a lot, thank you for reading.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Why not me?

Visiting the new PIDW canon altered Bingge's brain chemistry.

It haunted Luo Bingge for weeks - that version of Shen Qingqiu, that kind, loving smile, his soft, fond eyes, his tender touch, the plush of his lips and that indignant but pliant way in which he submitted to Luo Bingge's aggressive kiss...

It haunted him every moment of every day, even more so at night, ever since it happened - and neither of his many wives managed to entice him or distract him, their presence suddenly irritating him to the point that he forbade any of them to visit him, including his otherwise esteemed wife.

Seeing these women felt at best empty, at worst, repulsive. He couldn't bear anybody's touch on his skin, not after having felt the way that Shen Qingqiu had held and touched him. Not after having realized that it was only when he felt those loving hands on his body that he had ever felt any semblance of comfort.

How?

How had the cruel, abusive man that Luo Bingge had suffered much pain and humiliatin at the hands of, turned into someone so kind and sweet? What happened? What changed?

And what about himself then? That version of himself, that pathetic, glass-hearted creature, how had he not become like Luo Bingge at all? He had surely shared the same fate, Bingge could tell, his version of Shen Qingqiu threw him into the Abyss as well! So why was he not vengeful? Had he not wanted to seek retribution, revenge for his suffering?!

But above all of that, the question that plagued Luo Bingge more than anything was... why not me?

Why did I not get the kind version of shizun?

Why wasn't I treated kindly?

Why couldn't I have that?

Why did I not deserve that?

Sometimes, he replayed that kiss in his head - the simmering passion he had felt in Shen Qingqiu's lips, the way he melted against Luo Bingge as if he was someone he loved - that love and desire between them that Bingge could have had no problem pretending was his and not the other version's.

It made him feel something that no woman in his harem ever had, not even the one he had chosen as his wife.

It made him realize something that made him feel sick.

He had always loved Shen Qingqiu. He had all but screamed to him - love me, love me, why won't you love me? So many seem to find it so easy to love me, why not you? Why not me?! - but all he got in exchange was hatred and vitriol, anger and humiliation.

It hadn't been the abuse, the pain or even the Abyss that turned Luo Bingge dark - no. It had been something far simpler, far more pathetic than he wanted to admit it.

Heartbreak.

And though he thought he had avenged himself, with Shen Qingqiu rotting in the basement of his palace with nothing but his venomous tongue left, meeting that gentle version of his shizun had broken Luo Bingge's heart once again, perhaps even more than it had ever been before.

--

"Why not me?"

Shen Qingqiu glared at his former disciple, scoffing. He did not feel like replying, and did not care to find out what Bingge was on about either.

"Why were you never kind to me?"

Shen Qingqiu scoffed again. "Kind? To a beast?"

Bingge's fists clenched, veins popping on the back of his fists. A beast? Had that other version of himself not been a beast too? He was loved, why wasn't Bingge?

"There is no world in which I would have seen you as anything but worthless and repulsive!"

"There is." Bingge replies, eerily calm, even doning a small, derisive, knowing smile. "There is a world in which you're not a monster. And I am not either."

Shen Qingqiu nearly laughed, that bitter, horrible laugh of his. "As if you'd deserve a world like that."

Luo Bingge had grown used to this, to his former shizun's harsh tongue, to the words Bingge responded to with causing him so much pain that his screams echoed off the palace.

But somehow, it hurt more that day. Because out of all the filth and the insults Shen Qingqiu had hurled his way along the years, to hear those words had been the most painful to hear.

Because it was true. It was true, and Bingge knew it - even that kind, loving version of shizun wouldn't have loved him. He had known it even when he asked that Shen Qingqiu to come with him to his world.

He wouldn't have.

Bingge thought back to that other version of himself. The way he protected his shizun, the fierceness in his eyes as he stared at Bingge and the love in them every time he looked at his Shen Qingqiu, the enormity of his love that bordered obsession. Worship.

It was something Bingge understood without even needing proof - that version of himself loved Shen Qingqiu beyond understanding, beyond limit.

Perhaps even beyond death.

The Shen Qingqiu now staring at Bingge would not have known what to do with such a love.

"You wouldn't deserve it either."

I had it. Shen Qingqiu thought to himself, bitterly, but he didn't pursue the thought further.

[madwomansapologist]

gift exchange with baldur's gate 3 companions

Navigation | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: As the end of the year approaches, the group united by worms decides over starting a tradition: exchanging gifts!

warnings: i don't think there is any...? this can be seen as tavrem or just platonic. ASTARION FLIRTS. i use tav as a nickname for reader, so... i made the sortition on a site so this is really random. i swear. like y'all wont't believe me, but it's random. also, i love those weirdos. just thought i should said that. happy rest of 2023 for all of us!

After losing a bet, Gale was responsible for starting what soon will be a tradition among the almost honorable group.

Gale stood up from his place near the fire, an unopened package floating beside his body, making a little flourish. "When I found out who companion I would gift, an immense honor took over my chest. My virtuosic―"

"Chk," Lae'zel crossed her arms. The look on her face was clear: she was daring Gale to dare her. "Humanoid, use fewer words."

Gale breathe in, so close to losing it. One things is to be disrespected, an that he can bear, but to be interrupted? He prepared jokes, and it would even rhyme. Decided not to be the one that would ruin the night, he ignored her.

"To sum up," he smiled at Lae'zel. "What a honor to put a face to the name, Blade of Frontiers."

Wyll hugged Gale, patting his shoulder affectionately. "The honor is all mine to meet such a renowned wizarding prodig."

Gale handed over the package, and then sat back down by the fire. The wine goblet returned to the wizard's hand.

Wyll's smile gradually died. From the packaging, he took out a book. "General Theory of Contracts and Unilateral Acts?" He glared at Gale. "What should this mean?"

"I'm just helping my friend," Gale took a sip. "So in the future you won't sign any appealing contract."

Facing the book that soon will be burned, Wyll regret getting into debt with Tav just so he could buy the perfect gift.

Wyll picked up the bag left on the log, and ignored Shadowheart's giggles.

"In this year full of surprises, good ones and horrible ones, but meeting this person..." Wyll breathed. "Gale, you worthless cunt. Astarion, I hope you like this."

Astarion took the gift with his fingertips, excited to have guessed who had drawn him. He told Karlach that Wyll was acting strange lately. He didn't thanked Wyll, that is something he'll only do if his gift is good.

When he touched what was inside the bag, he knew that the fabric was of quality. And upon seeing the details of the black ensemble, Astarion's smile became real.

"Oh, darling," he purred. "You spoil me."

With a smug smile and a hesitation to provoke his companions, Astarion continued.

"To show that I am capable of doing the right thing from time to time," Astarion licked his fangs. "I spent arduous weeks collecting what I would need for tonight's best gift."

Everyone booed him.

Rolling his eyes, Astarion took the chest from his tent. "I smell the scent of jealousy coming from all of you," said Astarion. He stopped talking, just to play with everyone's feelings. "That one is to my sweet leader."

You cheered as you stood up. If there's one thing no one can say about Astarion, it's that he doesn't have good taste. After all, there is a reason for why he chose to bite you.

"Thank you, darling," you mirrored the way he talks to you. "That won't make me mad, will it?"

"Oh, Tav, you know me" your nickname flowed from his lips like honey. "I only play with your feelings when we have privacy."

When he handed you the trunk, you even stumbled under its weight. You placed it on one of the fallen trees. Opening it, a smile appeared on your face.

Potions. Lots of potions. Of all kinds. Speed, invisibility, healing. Poisons, coatings. From the most basic to the rarest.

Looking at Astarion, you pouted. "Thank you," you whispered.

Excited, you runned to your tent to take the hidden gift. Something on you told you the problems you got yourself into just to able to get that would be worth it.

"Oh gods," Gale murmured. Sarcams dripped from his tongue. "What is that? Can anyone tell?"

"On my defense," you pointed at him. No words made to your brain, so you breathed in. "How else would I pack an trident?"

"Not like that," said Shadowheart.

You chose not to discuss with them only because you knew that just wrapping it with red silk and a pink knot was a bad idea, but it still hurted to know that it was the best you could do. How can wrapping things be so difficult? Why no one told you that it would be so difficult?

"The person I gonna gift deserve the whole world, and one day I will sure that they get's it," you started. Surprised that Lae'zel didn't stopped you already, you continued. "I really wasn't expecting to like that person, but she won my heart so easily."

"Heart," Lae'zel murmured. "Is it Karlach?"

Karlach jumped from her place. "IS IT ME?!"

You showed your tongue to Lae'zel, then turned to Karlach. "Yes, it is!"

In a matter of seconds you were too far from the ground. Only when your breathing had already become a problem did Karlach carefully place you on the ground again.

Karlach tore open the wrapping, the trident glinting in her hands. She was already thanking you so happily. The only reason why she didn't hugged you again was because she didn't want to hurt you.

"This pretty girl in your hands is Nyrulna," you started. "Because of an spell, it'll return to your hand when thrown. Plus, no one can force you to drop it. It also creates an explosion. But the best part is that I found a way to make it red!"

Wyll sighed, and threw his book on the fire.

"Hey!" Gale yelled.

After a little dance to celebrate, Karlach tried to control her beaming smile. She didn't knew most of her companions felt their hearts getting warmer, but if she did it would have just worried her.

Karlach held onto the box she protected with her life to ensure no one would tamper with the gift. "This person deserves a fucking break and I―"

"Shadowheart," you yelled. "Is it Shadowheart?"

"You're fucking right!" Karlach pointed at the cleric. "Is it you, my girl! You're the one that deserve a break!"

"Well," Shadowheart forced a little smile. "Thank you. I guess."

Karlach handed over the small package, and without delay she pulled Shadowheart into a hug. The brunette had no option but to accept it. Carefully, Shadowheart opened the package and found a book with leather cover.

She threw the package on the floor to open it. "What is it about?" Shadowheart asked, flipping through the book.

"It's a collection of erotic stories," said Karlach.

Halsin took a sip from his goblet. Finally someone with taste.

Shadowheart ignored whatever wit comment Astarion made and took a deep breath. "Of course it is."

Shadowheart wasn't recovered from her gift, but the tiredness that overtook her members was also caused by the irony of what was about to happen.

"Lady of Sorrow guides us," Shadowheart whispered to herself. Instead of trying to make people guess who she's about to gift, Shadowheart just threw the box onto Lae'zel's lap. "There is no reason for me to delay this torture even more."

"Chk. Oh. This seems like it's you fate to deal with me." Lae'zel opened the box with one of her daggers. "Let's see if I will thank you, follower of Shar."

Inside the box, Lae'zel found several instruments for improving weapons. How she hated liking the gift. Lae'zel would like to do like Wyll and burn everything just to embarrass Shadowheart, but she couldn't damage such well-made instruments.

"Well done, cleric," Lae'zel hissed.

Lae'zel knew that her gift was the best, but there was a possibility that she did not thought about: maybe she had got the gift she would like to receive. Either way, it would be worth it.

"I share the cleric's interest for no unecessary fuss," Lae'zel was quickly to say. "Bear, I hope you enjoy this."

She handed over the box and walked away before Halsin could think about hugging her. Halsin undid the knot that kept the box closed, and everyone gasped at the sight of his gift.

You looked at Lae'zel. "How did you... Did you keep it all this time? How did you preserve it?"

In the glass above Halsin's hands was Minthara's head.

"You truly are..." Halsin sighed. He didn't knew what to say. "Civilized."

Before Halsin could recover, Gale approached the druid.

Unable to say anything, Halsin handed him the package. Gale didn't care, he just wanted to know what he had won. His smile didn't last a lot.

"Boots, Halsin?" He yelled. "Very mature of you. Very mature."

Wyll laughed at last.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[angelmichelangelo]

i feel like we don’t talk about how horrendous the wasteland arc of 2012 was. like, yeah the designs for the future turtles were a lil goofy but think about it. donnie’s body obliterated he’s left with a brain damaged raphael who can’t remember anything, unwillingly burdening him with not only looking after him but keep on the memory of their brothers alive. and at some point after the mutagen bomb went off, after probably endlessly searching for leo and mikey they left new york. donnie probably had to make that decision with the heaviest heart. leo, out of his mind from his second mutation probably fled the city whenever he came to, lost and confused, unsure if he was the only survivor, if there was anything left of the old leo in his mind imagine the guilt he carried when he thought his sacrifice had been worthless. mikey who probably was still sound of mind probably crawled out of that wreckage and realised for the first time in his life was alone. those brothers, usually inseparable had to at some point just accept fate that their brothers were dead/not coming back for them and move on with their lives. wasteland arc is horrible. it’s great, but it’s horrible.

[queer-scots-geordie-dyke]

Here’s the thing - I have struggled with a life long battle with my sense of self worth, almost certainly caused by incessant childhood bullying - I was made to feel worthless and stupid almost every day, and like I had nothing worthwhile to contribute, never picked for group projects, laughed at and whispered about, and then my older sister treated me like crap at home. My sister left home when I was 11 and I left school over 20 years ago, but it’s the kind of thing that lingers and I’m not sure I will ever fully conquer it.

But it is a battle I’m winning, beyond fleeting thoughts of “do people in my life really value me and my company or are they just humouring me,” and “why on earth do people care what I have to say,” and thankfully, those don’t come all that often anymore. I know I’m winning because over the past year, there’s been incredibly hateful and horrible things said to me and about me on here and I’ve felt… not much really, beyond an eye roll and thoughts of how sad and pathetic they are. A few years ago, it would have floored me and sent me into a spiral and likely sent me off tumblr altogether. But not today.

I know my worth, I know there is value in what I have to say and contribute to life, even if there are some who don’t see it. I see it, finally.

[victorie552]

I headcannon that after 3rd Kinslaying, and especially after Elrond and Elros left them in whatever fashion, Maedhros was a total dick to Maglor.

You know how sometimes old or sick people are nice to neighbours/nurses/strangers, but are horrible to their primal caretakers? That's them.

People aren't dicks to their caretakers just to be dicks - it's because they are often frustrated with themselves or their situation and don't know how else to deal with it or they can't deal with it the usual way. It also happens because, paradoxally, they feel safe around their caretakers - you can be a dick because you know they won't leave just because of that.

And boy, did Maglor cast himself in a role of caretaker (let's not kid ourselves, he wasn't qualified, and with his own problems to boot), and BOY, did Maedhros resent him for it. He did not NEED help, he did not DESERVE help, he's not another kidnapped child MAGLOR, I'M the older brother, I should take care of YOU YOU WRECK, WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO BABYSIT YOU GROW UP ALREADY and leave me Nothing is EVER your fault, even when you left me to Angband as you should Why would you care now, it amounted to NOTHING before, it's WORTHLESS

And about half the time Maglor just takes it, actually likes it even. Mostly because of his guilt complex about how he deserves it, but also because Maedhros is only like this with him - he's trying his best to pretend to be fine and be a leader to few followers they have left, because they deserve better and that's the only thing he can give them now, and their brothers are all dead and would always be Too Little to act like that around them anyway. Maedhros would behave himself even around Fingon, to make him think rescuing him was worth something. So by being a dick to Maglor, Meadhros sees him as an equal, a safe haven. Maglor basks in that.

But obviously no one could just take such abuse like it's nothing, and Maglor is a Feanorian too, is prideful and stubborn, with his own laundry list of complains about Maedhros, and also unwell, and also thought of a new insult while lying awake at night and just wants to yell too. So half the time Maglor yells back and their yelling matches would bring orcs to tears, with hate and blame dripping from every word. I don't have enough imagination to picture it realistically, and actually I don't want to, it's too heartbreaking.

And sometimes, one or the other just starts crying. They don't talk about these times.

After some time, their arguments and insults are just a noise, something to repeat endlessly to the point of boredom.

By then, what actually hurts are the words that were not meant to harm.

Example 1:

Maedhros: 'did an all-night inspection of their stores cause he couldn't sleep' I found a herb you always liked to wash your hair with.

Maglor: 'doesn't remember last time he washed his hair, no less scented them'

Maglor: 'choked up' Appreciated.

Example 2:

Maedhros: 'feels like he's dragging Maglor to damnation with him' You could go with the twins, you know.

Maglor: 'doesn't want to upset Maedhros today so decides to pretend as if that was actually an option' Vanyar would probably like my singing but you know they would get mad at you for having better battle plans than them.

Maedhros: 'now KNOWS he's dragging Maglor to damnation with him'

Maedhros: 'dying inside' Of course they would.

When love hurts, it's easier to be a dick.

[juniperhillpatient]

This conversation between Shauna & Jeff in Digestif is SO interesting as a precursor to season 3. I wanted to rewatch some season 2 episodes because I said season 3 totally reframed season 2’s writing in a positive way for me & gosh I really do stand by that.

Shauna’s worst fear truly is being boring! And it ALL boils back down to that tragic unresolved tension between her & Jackie. Jackie made Shauna feel small. Jackie had charisma. Jackie was a natural leader. And it made Shauna feel so worthless - forever afraid of her feelings for Jackie & intimidated by her & jealous of her. Shauna loved Jackie but she also wanted to be her & she also hated her for the way she made her feel.

I unfortunately can’t find any screenshots of Shauna bagging the packaged meat containing human remains in her dream interaction with ghost Jackie while she’s sleeping outside Melissa’s house (god there really will never be another show like this.) But it’s such an interesting scene because Shauna is horrified that “this” is her life. She’s bagging groceries. It’s human meat but it’s packaged, it’s put away. She did all those horrific things for nothing. Just to have this basic life & the worst part of it all is that Jackie is STILL mocking her.

The real Jackie loved Shauna. She could be a little bitchy, but it was never intentionally malicious. That insecurity that Shauna feels deep in her bones is just like the unwell ness that Lottie talks about. I want to write a whole meta on the girls who can’t go home sometime but for now let’s focus on Shaunas insecurity. She projects it on everyone around her because SHE can’t be allowed to be boring.

I’ve seen it said that the thesis of Jackie & Shaunas relationship is “why didn’t you ever say anything?” And I would agree! To an extent! I do think that Shauna’s insecurity ran so deep that the relationship had a high potential to be toxic even if they both opened up. But I also think that if there’s NO version where the story has a happy ending then there’s no tragedy & also that there genuinely IS a world where these two could’ve healed if the circumstances were a little different. If it’s true that there were slumber party make outs before that makes it even more likely. They’re halfway there. They just needed to admit that it was real & talk about it & reaffirm what they meant to each other!

I was put off at first by the talk of “two realities” in season 3. I didn’t want another Lost. but I think I understand where it’s going now.

There was a tiny chance at a happy ending & positive growth somewhere for Shauna, in another life. But it crashed & burned with the plane. She destroyed it & consumed it along with Jackie’s flesh & her entire identity. And then there was Melissa!

I don’t want this to get any more excessively long then it already has but the entire reason I started talking about Shauna’s fear of being boring is her suicidal ideation in the finale.

The wilderness has twisted Shaunas perception of everything including normalcy vs “boring.” Way back in the pilot she “just wanted to win” hence her standing back & letting the plan to injure Allie go through. So yes, she was always a little twisted. But now? She’s lost Jackie. She held her dead baby in her arms. She butchered her pseudo little brother after everyone left him to die including her because they were starving to death. At this point, she doesn’t know how to exist except in chaos. That’s what trauma does. Shauna CANT deal with things being safe & normal.

Shauna would rather DIE than have Melissa be “boring” because she’s projecting her own insecurities onto Melissa. Shauna tried to play the role she PERCEIVED Jackie to have in her life by emotionally manipulating & degrading Melissa to the last. And Shauna has been making impossible choices & doing horrible things for months. For Melissa to make the merciful choice when Shauna never did? That’s worse to Shauna than Melissa killing her.

Shauna has always sought excitement & risk. Cheating with Jeff is the first glimpse we get of it. Cheating on Jeff with Adam is the first biggie in the adult timeline. She can’t sit still & that’s amplified in the wilderness.

Shauna is homicidal but she’s also suicidal. She seeks risk like it’s an addiction. Adult Melissa accuses Shauna of wanting to blow up her life & she’s not wrong. (Of course Melisa ALSO specifically sought out her ex who once shot a gun inches from her & made her piss herself publicly then smirked about it & jumped Shaunas bones when Shauna held a knife to her throat & later after she & Shauna crippled a man together sooo… okay this is already too long we don’t have time to do an in depth on this crazy bitch too)

Anyway in conclusion Shauna will NEVER be satisfied. The most excited she ever was by Melissa was when Melissa almost killed her & she was disappointed when that failed. Then she turned her rage about it into sadism with Mari. Anyway never forget that Shauna Shipman might be destructive to everyone else around her but she is also destructive to herself & completely broken & twisted inside & THAT is why she is my poor little pookie meow meow forever. Thank you for coming to my TED talk 🫡