#i want to stop being a worthless piece of shit who adds nothing to the world | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

freebooter4ever · 3 years ago

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Living in close quarters for months on end with a bunch of men his own age doesn't bother Snafu a bit. It's the one part of the Marines Corps he actually enjoys. Like living on an island full of eye candy. Snafu became mostly numb to the sheer number of naked butts by the end of his second day on Pavuvu. With the heat and the sun, the men need very little provocation to strip their clothing off. It was distracting for about an hour and then it became commonplace.

Later, after Gloucester, after living for three straight weeks in rain and misery, under the constant threat of violent death, and then returning once more to Pavuvu, Snafu becomes numb to everything....

He's never been one for carousing - a trait his peers in high school picked up on pretty quick. He's been compensating ever since. Packing on the innuendo and flirtation, and studying how other men act towards women and amplifying it in his own behavior.

So even before the numbness set in, Snafu isn't sure he ever actually felt anything like what others seem to describe. Even though Snafu admires his daily fill of half dressed fellow Marines wandering around camp, he does it in a detached sort of way that makes him feel more like an observer than participant. And it's good, because while there are whispers and rumors about certain guys who will take a man into the woods and show him a good time, Snafu doesn't need to get involved. He gets himself into enough trouble without adding a court martial onto it.

A few days after Gloucester an envelope arrives. There's no letter, simply a newspaper clipping slipped inside and stamped. The clipping is from his hometown newspaper and the article is about their hometown hero - brave Merriell Shelton - who shot up the enemy with his 'mortar gun'.

It's truly amazing how in a small town such as his, one can go from being the delinquent orphan son of impoverished half crazed parents easily forgotten by polite society, to being a hometown hero in the span of one battle.

Everyone in K company teases him about the article, especially about the 'mortar gun' bit. Snafu enjoys it immensely. He takes pride in his notoriety. It adds to his carefully cultivated mystique. No one wants to fuck with the fast talking, mean Merriell Shelton, war hero.

In actuality, Snafu is no hero. He fights for one reason, and that's the fifty dollars a month being sent home to his kid sister. He doesn't want her saddled with being a burden to her adopted family. Not like Snafu was with their own parents.

Overall, aside from the numbness, everything about Snafu's time in the Marine Corps is going well. He has respect, he has the looming potential of death and relief, and he has a steady diet of filling if questionable food. He thinks he's got a handle on things.

Till his downfall arrives a few days after the envelope.

Eugene Sledge looks like a fool from the minute he steps into Snafu's tent. Something about him irritates the hell out of Snafu. To try and figure out what about Sledge bothers him so much, Snafu goes out of his way to run into the guy. But no dice. Nothing works.

It doesn't click until Snafu accidentally runs into Sledge in the showers. Normally Snafu showers on off times to avoid any accidents. But after one particularly disgusting round of coconut duty, Snafu is stuck washing the gritty stickiness off in the middle of the day.

At first there's just him and Pops in the showers. A typical sight - Gunney Haney is obsessively clean. Snafu ignores him, and ignores the new Boots who join them halfway through. Snafu requires single minded focus to fish out all the coconut pieces that mysteriously found their way into his hair.

Once finished, Snafu turns around and bends his head back under the stream of water to rinse. He opens his eyes after the worst of the suds are gone, and spots Eugene Sledge in the group of new recruits. They are huddled around the shower heads in the opposite corner as far away from Snafu and Pops as they can get. Snafu smirks at them as a greeting.

It's kinda fun being intimidating.

Except they aren't paying attention to him. Sledge's eyes are transfixed on Haney as the man scrubs his dick.

Admittedly, for the uninitiated, seeing Haney shower is quite a sight. The man uses a bristly GI brush. The working theory is that he's been doing it so long and he's so old that his skin is pickled enough to be as thick and tough as leather. Everyone stares and winces in pain when they first witness Haney washing his junk.

However, Sledge is unusually engrossed. Snafu feels a strange prickle at the back of his neck and a spike of annoyance over this.

Jealousy - a word Snafu's never related to before.

Once he recognizes the feeling, though, he starts seeing it everywhere. Sledge is genuinely kind, and cares about everyone in a way that would stretch Snafu thin enough to break. Sledge is the best sharpshooter in the company, beating Snafu's considerable score by almost an entire point. Sledge takes every work duty thrown at him without complaint and with stubborn pride. Sledge takes everything thrown at him without complaint, including Snafu's own malice.

And all Snafu wants is for Sledge to just fucking look at him.

The tipping point comes after Sledge's little buddy Philips rotates home without warning. The despondency Sledge sinks into for a few days makes Snafu ache with frustration. Sledge starts disappearing whenever the replacements get an hour or two off. Snafu makes it his mission to find him.

He eventually does. Turns out Sledge is running off to a secluded beach, but he never goes in the water. Instead he sits crosslegged in the sand and stares at crabs. Snafu shimmies up a palm tree and scoots across the rough bark until he's nearly hanging over the oblivious Sledge.

In Sledge's lap is a dog-eared notebook, probably a moonlight requisition from the officer's tents. Sledge hunches over the page, his hand scribbling furiously and Snafu cranes his neck till he can see what Sledge is working on.

It's drawings of crabs. Countless pages of them. Snafu straddles the uncomfortable palm tree for almost an hour, watching in disbelief as Sledge makes study after study of crab anatomy.

Instead of killing the damn invasive creatures with a shovel and burying them in the sand, Sledge draws them.

If Snafu could draw, maybe he'd finally be free of this strange fascination that's taken hold of him. The image of Sledge that one afternoon - showering, naked and lean and glowing in the midafternoon sun - burned itself in Snafu's brain. He doesn't know how to purge himself of it. At the time, he didn't even realize he'd been looking that closely at Sledge while they were in the showers, but afterwards his brain pieced the scraps of memory together and gave him a picture more vivid than what he thought he saw.

And now he sees it whenever he looks at Sledge.

Even on Peleliu, after everything's gone to shit, but somehow they got off the beach and somehow they're not dead yet, his mind drifts to Sledge. The boy strips off his shoes in the midst of battle. Snafu stops him, shoving Sledge's boots back into his chest with force.

It's the first time he lays hands on Sledge and he doesn't even register it because he's too busy being worried about the damn idiot being caught with his pants down and shoes off.

Sledge is a distraction. That's all he is.

Until Sledge fucking picks Snafu up off the ground even when Snafu is pretty sure he's already dead. Sledge drags Snafu out of his shock and out of danger, and proves he can keep his cool during battle. Cooler even than Snafu, who still runs hot whenever Sledge gets too close.

Naive little Sledgehammer grew up quick, but unlike Snafu, he did not grow up mean - he still saves worthless things fallen helpless in the sand and dirt. From that minute on, Snafu makes it his personal mission to preserve Eugene's goodness.

He doesn't anticipate Sledgehammer accepting Snafu's newfound loyalty so readily.

Burgie calls Snafu out on it teasingly during their ship ride back to dreaded Pavuvu. A painful bout of seasickness causes Snafu to lose track of Sledgehammer for a few hours aboard ship, and Snafu spends the time wandering the decks in search of him.

"Since when did you appoint yourself as his shadow, Snaf?" Burgie retorts when Snafu asks if he's seen the 'Hammer'.

"Just need to collect on my bet about him smoking by the end of his first battle," Snafu shrugs.

"Every nonsmoker smokes by the end of their first battle, Snafu. You already knew that," Burgie says, "Leave him be."

"No way," Snafu argues, "Someone needs to teach that rich boy that he don't know everything."

"And of course you'd be the one to do it," Burgie sighs.

Ironically, Sledge is the one to find Snafu in a random ship compartment instead of the other way around. Snafu is lying prone, trying to keep his half digested meal from rolling around.

"Here," Sledge says, shoving a small box at Snafu as hard as Snafu shoved Eugene's boots.

"What is it?" Snafu asks, feigning disinterest.

"Crackers. They'll help with the stomach," Sledge replies, "C'mon, let's get you topside."

"How the hell'd you get crackers on a ship short of rations?" Snafu asks. He obediently follows Eugene through the ship to the deck. Like a damn shadow.

"I sweet talked one of the swabbies," Sledge explains casually.

That news roils Snafu's gut. Jealousy again. It's lucky they made it to the deck. He staggers to the rail and pukes overboard.

"The swabby liked my accent," Eugene says and leans beside Snafu, "Think he was from northern Alabama. I told him how us southern boys have the best aim in the Marines."

Snafu finishes vomiting up the last of his afternoon chow.

Sledge sighs and places his hand on Snafu's upper back.

Snafu's glad no one else is around on this part of the deck to see his shame. He hangs on the rail and feels miserable.

"Get it all out?" Sledge asks, and passes Snafu his canteen.

Snafu takes a sip, swishes it around his mouth, and spits into the sea. And then guzzles as much water as he thinks he can keep down. He sticks his tongue out at the disgusting aftertaste and hands the canteen back.

Sledge runs his hand down from Snafu's back to his arm. Before Snafu knows what's happening Eugene is gently taking Snafu's hand and leading him away from the rail. Sledge sits on the deck and leans against the ship's wall. He tugs on Snafu's hand for him to sit next to him.

"Better to go down to one of the cabins," Snafu resists.

"You don't want to know how bad it smells down there," Sledge warns, "Trust me. Fresh air is best."

Snafu gives in and collapses next to Eugene. He tilts his head back against the cold metal and closes his eyes.

Sledge takes the box of saltines from Snafu's hands and Snafu hears rustling as Sledge opens the package. Sledge then nudges Snafu's elbow with the box.

"Eat," Sledge says.

Snafu groans and leans his head on Sledgehammer's shoulder instead. He doesn't want any ill-gotten flirtation crackers. It's a lot easier to close his eyes and pretend to sleep.

Sledge seems to not mind Snafu sleeping on him. He doesn't move away, at least. So Snafu uses it as an excuse to shuffle closer. Which is when he realizes Eugene never let go of his hand. He's still holding on. Tight.

"Snafu?" Sledge prompts. He uses Snafu's nickname like they're best buds, though they've hardly ever spoken.

Snafu grunts.

"On that airfield…" Sledge says, "Don't you ever dare do that again, allright?"

"Whatever you say, Sledgehammer," Snafu drawls, "Don't even know what I did."

"You just...lay there," Sledge says quietly, "Like you were...."

"Waiting?" Snafu tries to remember his own state of mind in that moment.

"Gone," Sledge says sharply.

"Same damn thing," Snafu gives up on sleeping and lights a cigarette.

"If you're not around who'll tell me what I'm doing wrong?" Sledge asks.

"Shit, Sledge," Snafu drawls with a grin, "practically anybody who's not you could do that."

Sledge actually chuckles. That's the thing about Eugene. He's not stuck up or prissy like Snafu'd expect him to be. He's humble, and willing to laugh at his own inexpertise.

"I'd rather it be you," Eugene adds quietly with a small smile.

Snafu sucks on his bottom lip and refuses to respond to that.

"So no dying," Eugene finishes, as if such a conclusion were a choice.

Snafu does fall asleep and when he wakes up a few hours later, Sledge's head is tipped on top of Snafu's. Sledge's long nose is in Snafu's hair and he's snoring loud enough to wake the enemy a thousand miles away. Snafu can feel Eugene's snores blowing his hair around.

Despite these annoyances, Snafu tries to freeze in place and jostle Eugene as little as possible.

Their hands are still linked together. Sledge's hand is wrapped tight around Snafu's. Snafu lifts Sledge's hand to examine his delicate fingers - long and gentle, but not dainty. Eugene has the calluses of an expert marksman, and painfully short fingernails. Snafu picks at the boy's ring curiously.

Sledge shifts and turns farther in towards Snafu's body. He draws his arm away from Snafu's fiddling and instead places his hand on Snafu's soft belly. "Stop moving," he mumbles.

"You stop snoring," Snafu complains. He bumps his head intentionally into Sledge's big nose to make his point.

Sledge ignores him and slumps more of his weight onto Snafu's shoulder.

Snafu accepts his fate and reaches over Sledge's body to steal the saltines. He opens the cracker package and starts snacking.

"Must you, with the crunching?" Sledge snarls after a few minutes.

"Got hungry, Sledgehammer," Snafu, "If you're gonna be using me as a pillow, I'm gonna need to generate extra padding."

Sledge sighs and holds his hand out, "Give me one."

Snafu complies, "If you get crumbs in my hair, I'll kill ya."

"Wouldn't be the worst thing in your hair right now, Snafu," Sledge gripes.

"Yeah? What else is up there? Pick it out for me," Snafu grins.

"Smells like you took a nap in seawater," Sledge says, "Or smoke."

"Get your long nose out of my hair then," Snafu quips.

"Once you get past the brine smell it's not so bad," Sledge mutters and doesn't move

"Yeah, well your shoulder smells like…" Snafu starts, and then cuts off when he realizes Eugene's shoulder doesn't smell like anything Snafu finds unpleasant. "Did you change your shirt?"

"Traded it for the saltines," Sledge explains, "The swabby wanted a souvenir that saw battle. I gave it to him. Stole this one off a supply crate."

"Fuck, Eugene, I thought you flirted your way into the galley," Snafu grumbles.

"Who says taking off my shirt wasn't a part of that?"

Snafu can't see it with his head on Sledge's shoulder but he swears Gene is smirking at him. "Should have just given him your pin," Snafu argues.

"Can't," Eugene replies, "Sid says they're good luck."

Snafu rolls his eyes at the mention of stupid Sid and settles back comfortably to sleep.

Eugene hooks a thumb in between Snafu's button holes in his shirt to keep his hand on Snafu's stomach. His fingertips barely brush Snafu's bare skin, and suddenly Snafu is no longer interested in sleeping.

And then Eugene's wandering fingers hit Snafu's shrapnel wound.

His response is immediate and a little shocking, "What the fuck, Snafu?" Without asking Eugene starts popping open all of Snafu's shirt buttons.

"What the hell, Sledge?" Snafu tries to back away from him.

"My father's a physician, let me look at you," Eugene orders. He manhandles Snafu's hips forward away from the wall to stretch him out on the deck. Snafu's thin wound runs from right beside his belly button to right over his hip. "Jesus, Snaf, that could turn infected."

Snafu is still trying to process the feel of Eugene's long hands gripping his hips, there is no room in his brain for worrying about infections right now.

"You're gonna need to lie down," Eugene tells him, "Here…" Sledge takes off his shirt and folds it up so Snafu doesn't have to rest his head on the floor.

"Thanks," Snafu says blankly.

"I thought it didn't hit you, you idiot?" Eugene asks.

"Naw, it hit me," Snafu smiles, "just didn't kill me."

"Wait here, I need a kit," Sledge gets up and walks off, leaving Snafu on his own.

Snaf uncomfortably folds his open shirt closed and crosses his arms over his chest self-consciously. He hopes no one will accidentally walk past this part of the ship while Snafu is stuck laying here like a patient. It takes far too long for Sledge to return.

When Eugene does finally return, he's holding a big medic kit that definitely is going to be missed somewhere.

"What'd you have to take off to get that?" Snafu asks, his voice mean, "Your pants?"

"I'll return it when I'm done," Sledge tells him in a no nonsense tone. He sets the kit down and flips it open. "I'll need to open the waist of your pants though, do you mind?"

Snafu looks to the sky to avoid Sledge's concerned gaze. "Don't care," Snafu says as nonchalantly as he is able. He wets his lips and squeezes his eyes shut.

Sledge gently uncrosses Snafu's arms and moves them to the side. When Sledge unbuttons Snafu's pants, Snafu takes a deep breath. His stomach constricts, and he knows his bones are poking out embarrassingly far. Sledge's hands are warm and surprisingly soft. Cleaning everything, and putting a tiny amount of stitches near Snafu's waistband area doesn't take Sledge long at all. Before Snafu even gets to fully enjoy the feeling of Eugene's fingers sliding over his most sensitive area, Eugene is already buttoning Snafu's pants back up and smoothing his shirt down. Snafu flicks the shirt back off, deciding if he's already indecent he might as well continue that way.

Snafu moves to sit up, but Sledge puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Stay down for a bit," Sledge says, "I want my shirt back though. Here." He scoots next to the wall at Snafu's head and then helps Snafu lean forward enough that Sledge can reclaim his stolen shirt. Sledge throws the shirt on and then scoots closer again, beckoning Snafu to lay back down.

Having his head in Sledge's lap is about a thousand times more distracting than Eugene touching his skin. There was a medical excuse for that. There's no goddamn excuse for this.

As if reading Snafu's mind, Sledge decides to up the ante and he runs his hand along the clean skin beside Snafu's wound. Sledge's hand continues up to Snafu's chest and then stops. Sledge picks at a brown spot of dried mud below Snafu's sternum till it pops off and he can flick it away onto the deck. He then massages away the sting and leaves his hand resting there.

Snafu daringly rests his own hand on top of Sledge's. He doesn't breathe even once till they're both settled and Eugene doesn't pull away.

"You need a shower, Snafu," Sledge comments.

"You gonna give me one?" Snafu lolls his head so he can see Sledge's face.

"Only way to do that now would be to toss you off the ship," Sledge says seriously.

"That a no?" Snafu guesses.

Sledge glances down at Snafu with his signature 'I know better than you, but I am also amused' expression, and then stares blankly out towards the sea. He sighs, "Sleep off the seasickness. I promise I won't snore."

Snafu silently watches Eugene's profile for a while before he finally closes his eyes.

Sledge keeps his promise. He doesn't fall asleep once during the entire time Snafu is out. Sledge does, however, eventually remove his hand from atop Snafu's chest and that wakes Snafu up instantly.

Snafu stays perfectly still, and tries to breathe as even as possible. He doesn't want Sledge to notice he's awake and kick Snafu out of his lap.

Snafu carefully peeks one eye open, and sees two hands hovering above his head holding a book and pencil.

"Writing again?" Snafu accuses.

"Hmmm," Sledge says.

"What about?" Snafu asks.

"You," Sledge responds.

Snafu smiles. He knows Sledge is just being obtuse and not actually writing about him, but still, "Tell me."

"No," Sledge refuses.

Snafu eyes Sledge's hands and attempts to determine how much force it would take for him to grab the book away.

"If you take this bible from me, I'll never let you sleep on me again," Sledge warns.

"What makes you think that's a threat?" Snafu teases. He sits up and tries to lean over to read Sledge's writing.

"Because you slept like a baby during your nap," Sledge says. He angles the book away from Snafu's prying eyes.

"Plenty of other guys in the company more comfortable than you to sleep on, Sledgehammer," Snafu says.

Sledge looks Snafu straight in the eye and dares him, "Then why don't you go find them?"

Snafu holds his gaze for a few breaths. And then wordlessly puts his head back in Eugene's lap.

Sledge calmly sets down his pencil and book, and threads his hand into Snafu's hair instead. "You know what I miss?" Sledge idly scratches Snafu's head as he talks, "Having an inexhaustible supply of blank paper."

"I still don't understand how you've managed to hold onto that one pencil nub for so long," Snafu comments. If talking means Sledge will massage his head, Snafu will do anything to carry this conversation.

"Writing in my bible is well and good, but nothing compares to a fresh blank sheet," Sledge states, "I can't believe that in school I used to tear pages up, or throw them away if I made even one typewriter mistake."

"We should find you a new pencil," Snafu continues his own train of thought, "Or maybe a couple."

"What a waste," Sledge sighs over his stupid crumpled typewriter pages.

"I bet the officers' tent in camp has pencils," Snafu muses.

"You need to borrow a pencil?" Sledge asks, "Sorry, I wasn't listening for a minute. Here, take mine." He hands Snafu the tiny nubby remains.

"Thanks, Sledgehammer," Snafu says and sticks the pencil behind his ear to remind himself later.

The first thing Snafu does on Pavuvu is go scrounging for paper. The constant stream of people coming in and out of the officer's tents makes it particularly easy to search. Snafu gets five pencils on only one run. He doesn't dare take the brand new stacks of paper. It would be too obviously missed. Instead he hunts through trash bins around the camp, and pulls out anything that looks clean and innocuous.

Snafu figures any important classified documents are being shredded or burned immediately anyway. No chance of him accidentally picking up something he shouldn't.

It takes a few days, but finally Snafu hits the jackpot. An entire stack of half used blank sheet notebooks. They're spiral bound, and the edges are dirty, and the covers don't look particularly pretty. But the pages inside are clean. Snafu takes his stack behind the mess tent and scrubs off some of the dirt stains.

A few of the notebooks are too gross to be salvageable. For these he carefully cleans his knife, and cuts out the crisp pages individually.

When he's finished he leaves his collection on Sledge's cot with the pencils resting on top of everything. Satisfied, Snafu takes a step back and surveys his work. Then realizes he can't let it look like he is doing Gene any favors. He sticks his hands out and musses the papers completely so the stacks are no longer neat and the pages aren't ordered by type. But he leaves the pencils on top. He doesn't want them to get lost or sat on.

At first Sledge doesn't say anything about Snafu's gift. The next time Snafu stops by the empty tent, the paper and notebooks are neatly stacked on a high shelf to keep it out of the way of crabs and vermin. It warms Snafu to see how organized the messy pile he left became. Even the pencils are safe and snug wrapped in a little handmade pouch.

Snafu takes the warm feeling with him to chow that evening.

"Did you wake up on the right side of the bed for once, Snaf?" Burgie asks.

Snafu brushes his comments off with a smile and sarcastic look.

Sledge looks up the minute he realizes Snafu is sitting down. "Hey," he says eloquently.

"Hey," Snafu says back. He sets his tray down and pulls out his cigarettes.

"I swear you smoke more than you eat," Sledge observes. He eyes Snafu's still mostly full and cooling plate of food.

"I only put things in my mouth if it's worth the bother," Snafu tells him, smirking.

"Are you saying warm mush isn't worth it?" Bill jokes as he polishes off his own bowl heartily.

Snafu laughs at Bill's graceless eating, till he realizes Eugene is staring. Not at Bill, but at Snafu. And looking very mournful for some reason. Unable to stand seeing Eugene looking that way, Snafu anxiously extends his hand to touch Sledge's knuckles, and then offers him a smoke.

"No thanks, Snafu," Sledge says, very unfriendly and possibly looking to start a fight, "I prefer to eat my meals."

"Has anyone gotten any letters from home yet?" Burgie changes the subject brightly.

Bill shakes his head.

"Nothing but my mother's usual package," Sledge says. He notices Snafu staring at him with quiet interest and adds with a sigh, "Yes, Snafu, I saved you your favorite jar."

Snafu smiles, "See, always worth it to wait." He grabs his unused spoon off the table and slips it into his pants for later.

"Sid still hasn't written to tell me if he made it home okay," Sledge says with a worried frown.

"I'm sure he did," Burgie says kindly.

"What about you, Burg?" Snafu interrupts, "You hear anything from Florence lately?"

"She's written, yes," Burgie says and turns as red as the canned beets Sledge's mother mailed last week.

Snafu whistles, Leyden begs Burgie to read any exciting bits aloud, and Sledge politely asks who Florence is.

"Burgie's girl he met in Australia after Gloucester," Snafu explains.

"I knew she liked me because she was the only girl not flocking around Snaf," Burgie jokes.

"Like flies to shit?" Bill snaps, "Snafu being the shit 'n ass."

"Don't think he slept in the stadium bunks with the rest of us even once," Jay laughs.

"I had more worthwhile places to go," Snafu says and eyes Sledge to gauge his reaction. He lazily takes a drag on his cigarette.

"Think we'll be given liberty in Australia again sometime?" Sledge asks. He holds Snafu's gaze steady.

"Don't care," Snafu shrugs.

"Unfortunately no," Burgie says, "I suspect we'll be run ragged till this war is over."

"At least she writes you," Bill interjects, "You'll just have to skip over thataway and pick her up before going home at the end of all this."

"Not sure how I'll manage that," Burgie takes a deep breath, "But it's true, I think she felt as strongly as I did. She expresses it well in her letters."

Bill whines that Burgie is holding out on his buddies by not divulging the content of said letters. He and Burgie get into a heated discussion that mostly consists of Bill begging and wallowing in self pity over not having any sweethearts.

Snafu and Eugene ignore them. Once Sledge finishes his meal, Snafu offers his cigarette again, and Sledge accepts. They pass it back and forth as they watch the sunset over the beach in the distance. Snafu wallows in every single touch of their fingers during each exchange.

"Speaking of mail," Sledge starts, "Snafu, did you leave paper on my bunk?"

"Why would I leave paper on your bunk?" Snafu scoffs.

"I thought maybe you were writing a letter and forgot it, or something?" Sledge asks, as though he isn't smart enough to put two and two together. No one accidentally leaves a jumble of notebooks lying around. Not when they're such a hard commodity to find.

Bill barks a laugh "Snafu writing? Can you imagine...that'd be the day."

"The only paper I ever concern myself with is asswipe," Snafu taunts. He dangles his cigarette out of his mouth and smirks at Leyden. Snafu throws one cautious glance over to Sledge and immediately regrets it.

Instead of being grateful, Sledge is annoyed. He snatches the cigarette straight out of Snafu's mouth. Sledge's fingers press into Snafu's lips briefly before he steals the smoke away, almost like a gentle punch. The unexpected touch and Sledge's deadly serious glare turns Snafu hot down to his toes.

Sledge finishes the cigarette in dead silence, and rather than stub it into the ashtray, he takes the nub and sticks it back between Snafu's lips. Sledge abruptly stands, grabs his tray, and stalks off without another word.

Leyden awkwardly coughs and gives Snafu a sympathetic look.

"Did you dump a bunch of papers on Eugene's bed?" Burgie asks Snafu for clarification.

"Fuck no," Snafu lies. They know he's lying. He grinds the cigarette into dust on the ashtray.

"Maybe I should have mentioned the Australian guys were buzzing around you, too," Jay suggests to Snafu, "Except there were less of them thanks to the war."

"Don't think that would've helped, Jay," Burgie says.

"Yeah?" Snafu says. He climbs over the mess hut wall and walks off.

#Sledgefu #Pining #Demisexual snafu #Bad germs

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binniedeactivated · 4 years ago

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For the Time Being. || gyu💫

𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 <3 (i hope you don’t mind if I remixed it a bit)

╰─▸🖤❝ @[𝒃𝒖𝒈𝒔𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈.. ]

✎𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒃𝒆𝒐𝒎𝒈𝒚𝒖 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

✎ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆¡

✎ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕; 2k

[@𝒃𝒖𝒈𝒔𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒆] 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇𝒇..

-ˏˋ🍧 “𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒖𝒎--𝒇𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆. 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘? 𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒇𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆...”. ˎˊ-

“we have to hurry up choi beomgyu is playing tonight”, yara warns, smearing another coat of ruby red lipstick on her plump, weirdly attractive, heart shaped lips.

“don’t worry we’ll be on time, let me just do this mascara real quick”. rayne then says shortly after smoothing her sparkly gloss on her lips and twisting the metallic golden cap of her mascara specially made by kylie jenner. you always thought elongated lashes perfectly complimented her beautiful brown skin.

“right? we’re lucky we’re doing our makeup right now or else we’d never get a spot on the bleechers. yara is hella pressed for no reason”. sage quickly wits making you and rayne laugh in unison but only making yara scoff and look at her funny through the bathroom mirror.

you would apply some eyeshadow, eyeliner, hell even mascara but you weren’t really talented at that. last time you did your makeup the girls teased you for looking like you were heading straight into your casket. so you left those things alone and instead did something you worked best at which was fashion.

you wore a two piece pastel pink halter top with a tightly fitted skirt to match. you curled your hair as best you could and parted it to the side. you thought you looked pretty cute, especially with the soft pink half rhinestone/half fur chunky slides that you wore. you weren’t rich by any means, so you definitely tried your best to keep up with your friends whose makeup always outdid anything you wore.

“i’m not pressed, and honestly the most pressed one in this room right now is the pink panther over there glaring at herself in the mirror”. yara combats, popping her lips in the midst of rayne and sage’s laughter to make sure she had enough on.

“how am I pressed? you’re the one rushing us”. you reply trying to seem as unbothered as physically possible. it was harder to be unbothered when you actually were. you were bothered every single time, in fact. but that’s how everyone in your friend group interacted with one another, so you didn’t want to feel like the sensitive one.

“you wore all that just so beomgyu can notice you? you did the absolute most. imagine having to wear skin tight clothes to be noticed”. yara always had this playful demeanor whenever she said things like this, so you never knew when she was actually joking. making it even harder for you to know when to be properly angry.

“girl leave her alone. if she wants to walk around the game looking like she’s in a strip club then let her”. rayne defends. well, that’s how you interpreted it at least.

she was defending you right?

you laugh it off, “can you guys relax? it’s just an outfit”.

“yeah anyways--”. yara neverminds, sparking another fit of laughter out of rayne and sage. sage rubs your shoulder in a half assed apology, “girl you know we’re just playing with you”. she assures.

yeah, playing. except you were always waiting for the joke to start.

speaking of playing, the University’s varsity team was playing well. It was the biggest game of the year after all, so it was only right that they gave it their all. but up by 50 points during halftime? that was a guaranteed win.

“god look at him, he’s so sexy”. yara stared, referring to beomgyu who was currently taking a rest to drink some water from his bottle, his long wet black locks desperately clinging to his forehead, sweat glissading down the milky skin of his neck and his ear piercings shining under the beams of the basketball court.

“he looks sexy sweaty, I can only imagine him shirtless”. rayne adds, just as stargazed as yara.

you roll your eyes at them both. yeah he was cute, you thought. given, he’s the university’s most valuable player. but the way girls obsessed over him was utterly insane. you got the concept of a crush definitely, but you knew rayne and yara would downright stalk him if they ever got the chance.

“the thirst is real”. you scoff before standing up, adjusting the purse chain dangling off your shoulder. “I’m going to the snack bar. you guys coming?”.

“oh my god he’s about to come over here”. yara freaks, anxiously tapping rayne’s hand. “i’m going to talk to him”. she adds while shuffling through her purse trying to find her lipstick.

“calm down. he could be going to see his family”. you point out, not wanting her to get her hopes up only for them to be quickly shot down. rayne gave you this spiteful gaze before rolling her eyes. you knew she was going to crack another friendly joke.

“just because you can’t get a boyfriend to save your life doesn’t mean she can’t”. she sasses, leaving sage in utter shock. “damn rayne. that shit was kind of cold”.

“she’ll get over it she always does”. she dismisses before helping yara get ready. your heart sunk, you wanted to cry. you wanted to just run back to your dorm and stay there for the rest of your life. but again, you couldn’t be the sensitive one. you maintained yourself by rolling your eyes in a sassy manner and heading to the snack bar alone.

it was hard pushing through hoards of people who were stoked about the game. most of them damn near yelling about what team was going to make a comeback and how. you even almost ran into someone’s baby stroller, that’s how crowded the school gym was. all this, and all you wanted was a candy bar.

to be quite honest, you didn’t know if you wanted to take your candy bar and go back to your seat or take your candy bar and leave.

rayne knew that was something you were insecure about. yet she ridiculed you about it anyway.

you swallowed the knot in your throat. trying to push her words to the back of your mind.

“damn you alright? you look like you’re about to cry”.

you turn to the voice beside you, wanting to pinch yourself at the sighting of choi beomgyu. you quickly fix your composure.

“i’m fine. i’m just--anyway you’re playing well tonight. the university is definitely never going to stop talking about this”. you say with your heart fluttering. he nods in appreciation. he found it hard for his eyes to glare into yours so he fidgeted a lot. he was shy, but of course he was trying to play it off.

“thank you. you sure you’re okay?”.

“of course. why wouldn’t I be?”.

“well I may not be an expert when it comes to girls... but they can say the opposite of what they feel sometimes”.

“it’s really nothing beomgyu. you should get back to the court, the news is interviewing your teammates”. you say brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. not realizing that beomgyu was watching you closely-- wondering how in the hell someone could be so pretty.

feeling his eyes you turn to him and he diverts his gaze quickly to the cashier since you both were next in line. he wanted to slap himself for almost getting caught. he smiles softly at the guy, “hey can I have a hotdog please?”. he asks and pulls out his wallet. you admit you were kind of shocked at his manners.

shouldn’t star athletes be mean? cocky even?

“would you like anything?”. he questions and you shake your head quickly. “no it’s okay I got it”. you assure before paying for your snack minutes after. you were expecting him to get his food and quickly run off to the guys but he didn’t. he was sort of waiting for you.

no way was this happening right now.

you shyly stroll towards him so the both of you could continue your walk back to the bleechers.

alongside you, beomgyu took a breath, and decided to just go for it.

just say it, beomgyu. she won’t reject you.

“you know um--to be pretty you’re actually really timid”.

you stifle a blush from going to your cheeks. “well, when your self confidence is shot down by your friends everyday what else can you be”. you say sarcastically.

“that doesn’t sound like a friend to me”. he replies.

“yeah I guess that’s just how they bond with others? I don’t know. but it hurts even more when they do it for--worthless reasons”.

“like what?”.

“over a boy”.

“that’s pretty fucked up. they ruin your self esteem everyday over guys?”.

“pretty much but I should be used to it at this point. I don’t want to be too sensitive maybe I’m just rambling”.

“it’s not being sensitive if it really hurts your feelings. do you stand up for yourself?”.

“i try but it backfires”.

“revenge?”.

you roll your eyes, pulling the chain of your purse back onto your shoulder. “how the hell am I going to get revenge on all three of them? they look better than me anyways”. you mumble.

“well what guy is making them say all that?”.

you nervously bit the insides of your cheeks and sigh.

“you”. you mutter underneath your breath. “but I mean what would you care anyway? it’s not like that’s the first time you heard that someone liked you. several even. just go join your teammates beomgyu. don’t waste your time talking to me”. you quickly add.

“I care enough to make them jealous”.

“what?”.

“maybe we can um--fake date. you know? at least so they can get off your ass a little”.

your heart starts to pound in rates you never thought you’d reach. fake date? with choi beomgyu? is he joking?

“i can’t ask you to do that you have too much of a reputation on your shoulders”.

“you didn’t ask me I’m offering. and I’m willing to do it as long as it’s okay with you of course. just a favor as friends. I promise to end it once you’re satisfied with the damage done.”.

“w-well--”.

“and I’m pretty sure as many times as they made you feel bad about yourself this one thing could ruin them all”. he chuckles sweetly.

“it’s not that it’s just I’ve never even had a boyfriend before so how will I even act?”.

“well first--”. beomgyu pauses to place his soft, way larger might you add- hand into yours. he squeezes it for good measure. “we hold hands”.

oh god--he was only your hands and sparks of electricity shot through your veins.

“but don’t you think we’re moving too fast? i go to the snack bar once and now I come back with a boyfriend”. you laugh.

he chuckles, “don’t tell them we’re dating. look I’ll walk you back to your seat and do some flirtacious shit and you just follow my lead”.

you nod with your nerves burning holes through your stomach. you finally approach the spot where you were sitting and you could see the girls freak out until they noticed his hand intertwined with yours.

you diverted your gaze as beomgyu walked up the bleechers with you and led you to your seat. you cross your legs, trying to make things look as natural as possible.

“thank you gyu”. you daintily smile and he smiles back.

“no problem, don’t lose the number I gave you. I have to get back to the game”. you nod assuringly and wondered how the hell gyu was so good at this. you were practically torn on the inside.

“I won’t. play well!”. you shout after him. “always!”. he shouts back blowing a kiss at you while making his way to the court before halftime was over.

it was fake but, why were you smiling from ear to ear?

#choi beomgyu drabble #beomgyu #txt imagines #txt drabbles #beomgyu drabble #fake dating #fake dating trope #beomgyu x reader

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damn-stark · 4 years ago

Text

The Trouble ~ Jesse Imagine

(Not my gif)

Jesse x Fem!reader

Requested by @expecto-nox “Uh..Hi? I just saw that you take TLOU 2 requests and I just wanna request if you're okay with it,only if you're okay with it. It's a Jesse x reader fic and Reader almost got bitten by an Infected and Jesse was there to save her. Can you make it angsty then fluffy? If you wanna add anything it's totally cool. Thanks for taking the time to read this if you did.”

A/N- I kind of want to do a mini series off this imagine? Like follow their journey towards Seattle and then end it when the unfortunate event that shall not be mentioned happened. What do you guys think? Would yall like to see that??

Warning- Violence, Angst, swearing, fluff

———-

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around us traveling to Seattle.” You complained to your boyfriend.

Even if you were currently halfway to said destination. With no sign of turning back.

Jesse sighed and briefly looked over his shoulder to show you his look of disapproval. “I told you that you didn’t have to come.”

“And let you come alone?” You quirked your eyebrow and showed a smug smile, “no.”

Jesse let out a small chuckle as he looked forward, “just admit it you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?” You scoffed, “no I am not. Why should I be?”

“Because we’re going to Dina.”

“So?” You question as if clueless to what he was referring to. “We’re also going to Tommy and Ellie.”

“Okay.” He nodded with an amused smile, “well just so you know you have nothing worry about.”

You smile and even if you were never going to admit it, his comment was a reassurance to your overwhelming worry. It’s not that you didn’t trust him because you did. You trusted this man with your life, but the only reason why the thought of Dina and him bugged you so much was because they dated for a long time—Even if it was on and off again. It’s just if they got back together so much it was for a reason right?

And your relationship was still so new and you really cared for him. Maybe even loved him? And maybe it was because the both of you were traveling through different states, fighting and avoiding danger from both the dead and difficult people, but that’s how you really felt and if this trip was just going to end up with them getting back together then it was really going to break your heart and make this trip just disappointing—not worthless since you did come help your best friend Ellie.

“Watcha thinkin back there?” Jesse questioned, making you pull away from your thoughts.

“Nothing...just tired.”

“Once we’re past this path we’ll set up camp and rest, okay?”

Responding with a quiet “okay” you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head on his shoulder, avoiding looking ahead at the continued narrowed path or to the side and looking down at the steep ledges.

Even if you never liked to because you liked to keep guard while Jesse guided the horse, it was getting hard not to drift to sleep. The slow careful pace, the sweet smell of fresh rain and sound of nothing but each other’s calm breathing surely not helping your situation. But it was also a moment that didn’t last long as you began to hear rustling from the ledge above you, making you pick up your head and your ears to perk up.

“You hear that?” You pointed out.

Jesse looked up to where the noise came from, but didn’t stop the horse, seconds later shrugging off said sound. “It’s probably nothing but some animal. Don’t worry.”

The rustling continued and this time you slowly pulled out your pistol, trying to ignore the sound of your heart beat picking up in your chest and trying real hard to focus on the noise above you.

“It’s not—” Jesse’s words were abruptly cut off as someone came tumbling down the ledge and blocked the path before you. “What the hell?” The horse lets out a loud squeal before she rises up on its hind legs, causing you to hold on tightly to Jesse as to not fall back. “Wow, wow calm down girl.”

The horse gets back on its four legs and walks back, snorting and nodding her head. Just as you were going to ask what or who fell the figure lifts up and reveals its torn clothes, blood covered mouth, and clouded dead looking eyes, letting both Jesse and you come to the realization that it was no living person but a runner.

Quickly Jesse pulls his gun out and shoots the runner directly in the head, said monster dropping dead before he could run forward.

“Told you.” You breathed, right as he was going remark more growling was heard followed by tumbling down, same as the previous runner had. This time though there was more than one and they blocked the horse from both sides, not that the horse cared as it jumped up, knocking both Jesse and you off her back, seconds later barely managing to avoid being attacked and jumping over the dead to run away.

Jesse quickly helped you to your feet, the both of you standing back to back, ignoring the pain all over your bodies from the fall and facing the dead that surrounded you.

“I count five in front of me. All runners.” You inform Jesse through heavy breaths, “I only have four bullets.”

“I count four in front of me. Theirs a clicker in the group.” He responds and just as he was going to report how many bullets he had, you avoided a swing from one of the fast approaching runners, moments later following by kicking it back into another runner and making them fall on the ground.

The other two ran towards you, growling and snapping at you, but in a swift motion you took out your machete and hacked it into one of its head, that single runner dropping whilst you shot the one behind it in the chest and then in the head killing it completely.

You quickly then focused your pistol on the other two that had now stood up and were making a beeline directly towards you. Right as you were going to shoot one, you were roughly tackled from one unsuspected clicker that tumbled down, the force of the impact taking you both down to roll off the ledge, only Jesse’s distant exclaim heard while you did so. “No!”

You kept your hands on the clickers neck as you tumbled down, having to hold it back as it kept snapping at you in attempts to bite any part of you it could. “Shit, shit!” The pain only worsened as you landed on your back on the hard muddy floor, the cuts all over your body combining with your new pains and making the clicker increasingly more violent. The thought of Jesse’s well being replacing the thought and worry for yourself.

But you knew you had to focus on the fight you had, couldn’t worry about Jesse even if that’s all you could think about now. You had to and couldn’t let the clicker get you, and now having no weapon in your hand you had to tighten your grip around its throat, before kneeing it in what you think is it’s stomach, that action giving you the opportunity to throw it back.

Without hesitating you struggled to pick yourself up, grunting in the effort. Through heavy breaths and shooting pains you searching for any weapon, smiling to yourself as you saw your machete a couple feet away. Right as you took one step forward you were pulled down by the same clicker gripping onto your ankle.

“Get off!” You growled as you tried to stretch your hand towards your machete while using your other foot to kick the clickers ugly head. “Get off—” a sharp pain shot in your leg making you bellow out loudly, making your efforts to escape falter and for the clicker to gain the upper hand and climb on top of you. The ugly sounds of its teeth clicking sounding right in your ear as it tried to bite your neck.

Again and without any other way you tried to fight it off your back as best you could, using every piece of strength you could. Right before you were able to reach the handle of your machete the repetitive annoying sound of the clicker stopped and the weight of it was completely off you. Before you could react you were turned on your back, coming face to face with Jesse.

“You’re alive. You’re alive.” Jesse repeated under his breath before offering his hand to help you up. “Are you okay?”

You nodded in agreement, trying to calm your breathing before you could verbally confirm or ask about himself. Before you could even attempt, the sharp pain on your leg reminded you that you were definitely not okay and that you had something worse then just cuts to worry about.

Hesitating to look down you exhaled deeply, briefly closing your eyes before you looked at the pained area, only and disappointingly seeing it covered in mud and blood.

“Shit.” You cursed as you sat back down and groaned from the pain.

“What’s wrong?” Jesse stressed, his eyes following your hands as you tore the new rip on your jeans. “Are you okay? Y/N?”

You swallowed thickly and blinked to meet his worried gaze, following his movements as he crouched in front of you; “I don’t know. I-I” it pained you to even say the next words or to even think of them and think of the outcome of the big what if. “I..think it bit me.”

Jesse’s eyes widened, a hand running through his hair and a deep frown appearing on his features, a terrified look replacing the one of worry.

“No. No it didn’t.” Jesse shoved your hands off your leg and ripped the jean up wider, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes as he couldn’t immediately identify your wound because of what covered it. “You can’t be bit.” He mumbled as he shrugged the backpack strap off his shoulder and searched for something inside.

“Jesse.” You tried to catch his attention but he kept frantically searching, ignoring you or tuning you out with the thoughts running through his head. “Jesse!”

Said man finally looked to you, his lips partially open and eyes glossy with tears.

You reached to cup his cheek, showing him a small smile even through your own worry. “I just want to say that the time I’ve spent traveling with you has been more than amazing. I’ve got to see and explore more than I have ever had in my life, I got to know what’s it’s like to do that with someone I like and really care for and that’s all I could ask for. Jesse I know we haven’t been dating long but the time we have—and maybe it’s because I’ve liked you before we actually dated, but regardless Jesse, I—”

“Don’t.” He cut you off, the tears you never knew he would shed or let you see rolling down his cheek, “don’t say it. Not like this, not when we don’t know if you’re bit or not. I can’t hear it if you are.”

Jesse pulled his face away from your hand and focused back on the contents inside his backpack, causing your own tears to roll down your cheeks. Only lifting his head moments later when he pulled out a half full water bottle, choosing to remain silent as he twisted off the lid and poured water on your wound, in a gentle motion rubbing the grime off it, the both of you hoping it wasn’t what you thought it was.

A soft wince escaped your lips as he did what he did, that making him let out a quiet apology as he continued with a fast beating heart. The anticipation of if you were, or if you weren’t bit making you turn your head away and focus on anything else beside the fact. Jesse feeling the same as his hand covered the awaited answer, a deep shaky exhale heard coming out his nose as he slowly pulled his hand away.

“Shit,” Jesse cursed as he fully sat down, rubbing his face with his hands and calming his fast breaths.

Not receiving the answer you wanted you peeked at your wound, a grin breaking through your lips as you saw nothing but a deep cut caused by the fall.

“It’s okay,” you shared as you threw your head back and lay on the ground, the fear you had moments ago slowly fading away. “I’m okay, I’m not bit.”

Jesse shifted around to lay next to you, the tears that once pooled his eyes no longer visible and instead replaced with content, a smile replacing his deep frown.

“You can say what you were planning to say before.” He grinned.

Turning your head to face him you matched his grin but shook your head. “You ruined the moment, I can’t say it anymore.”

“Come on say it.” Jesse urged, “it will help me feel better after the scare you gave me.”

“You did great back there, fighting those runners,” You shared. Words you knew he didn’t want to hear. “I’m proud.” You lifted your hand to ask for a high five, a action he glared at but did so anyway, to later interlace his fingers with yours and pull your hands down to the your sides.

“I’m just going to ignore you said that because you didn’t even see me fight them off.”

You shrugged and showed a cocky smile, “I still know you did great.” With your other hand you moved it to cup his cheek, moving in to give him a soft kiss, a gesture he easily returned and pulled you closer to deepen the kiss.

Later pulling away but keeping you close to stroke your cheek and express what he wanted to say before. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

You smiled and pulled him in for another kiss before pulling away and standing up—“the horse shouldn’t be far off we should find her. Seattle is still far off.”

“What about your leg? Let me stitch up your wound.”

You shook your head and began to walk, “after we find your horse.”

“Y/n.”

“Jesse.” You turn and face him, quirking your eyebrow, that letting him know that you weren’t going to accept any other suggestion.

Jesse sighs and moves past you to walk ahead just in case anymore surprises happened, choosing to stay silent and not wanting to add or question your previous conversation.

But that making it the perfect opportunity for you to bring it up. “Jesse?”

“Hmm.”

“I love you.”

Said man stops in his tracks, hiding the warm smile he had on his lips by having his back turned to you. Not failing to add a witty remark, and quoting you from before right before he could continue forward.

“You ruined the moment I can’t say it anymore.”

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kurisus · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 88-2 thoughts

I’m writing this at 6 AM because I CAN’T SLEEP WOO. As mentioned in my snaps, I first read this chapter while in a work call so I’m rereading it now to be able to focus a bit better. Buckle up, this will be long. Spoilers as always.

So Yukine was not necessarily snuggling with the wolves. He was asking them to eat him. I think in all the other bad stuff happening this chapter this detail got overlooked slightly but it’s bad!!!!

Who was the shadow we saw approaching him when he was with the wolves?? Was it trash dad after all? I think it has to be.

really don’t appreciate the Suzuha mention in THE YEAR OF OUR LORD TWO THOUSAND AND TWENTY

Yukine was such a caring brother it makes my heart hurt. Yukine in general makes my heart hurt. How did it end up happening that his mom just left him behind??

so if Fujisaki is telling the truth, we now know the context of Yukine’s death. And somehow, I think this is the most unpleasant revelation to come out of this chapter. Big statement, I know, but it explains...a lot.

Yukine was writing letters to his sister in secret for probably years, and as soon as his dad found out...well, we know the rest. I remember speculating (and a few others did too) why Yukine was barefoot and not struggling in that panel a couple chapters back that showed his final moments. So if he was already beaten enough to warrant hospitalization, that would explain why he wasn’t reacting the way he should have been.

At this point, if trash dad WAS telling the truth, I’d be fine if they didn’t show the actual scene of his death and just left it at that. Which means...we now know everything about Yukine’s time when he was alive. And of course there’s a lot we can say to fill out the gaps, but we have all the most important details. Finding out exactly how he died was the last piece in the puzzle. Aside from his full first name, that is.

Yukine yelling at trash dad to shut up and him continuing on anyway :) we really needed to know his final thoughts were “why?” :) I hate it here :)

I really hate even talking about this, this shit is FUCKED

okay so as far as trash dad is aware, Yukine’s body was still in the fridge. Meaning he had no idea that Yato went to dig it up all those months ago. Meaning Nora never breathed a word about it to him. I don’t really know how to express my feelings on this but thank you Nora. we owe you one. I have a feeling trash dad’s intent was not to give him a proper burial (since he’s all about false shows of kindness), though as to what it was, I cannot say.

I think at this point it’s pretty clear that Yato is the one who gave him a proper burial. When the panel of the empty refrigerator dropped a few months back, the fact that the body was missing struck me as just odd, and I thought maybe Yukine’s dad dug it back up for some sort of weird ritual, but judging by what we know now, that doesn’t seem likely. As soon as people started saying Yato buried him I was smacking my face like “of COURSE that’s what happened duh”

so trash dad is confirmed to drop his body in a very similar way to Hiyori, and we also confirmed that the version of him in the black robe is his spirit form. Nora mentioned his “body” a while back but now we finally got to see it. Is he a half ayakashi?? Is this just something he can do because he’s possessing Fujisaki’s body??? gah Adachitoka I want ANSWERS

Hagusa’s vessel name is just a double whammy. It’s like a horrible inversion of the fact that Yato named Kazuma Kazune. “Kazune” has the double meaning of referring to their time limit as well as being the “Kazu” Yato was already familiar with. With Hagusa, that name refers to a type of grain that looks like rice...in other words, something that appears valuable but is worthless. And now we see the vessel name is Yuuki? Adachitoka galaxy brained to punch me in the face.

SO THE REASON YUKINE DOESN’T HAVE A CELL PHONE IS BECAUSE HE DIED BEFORE THEY WERE INVENTED???? I always thought it was because he didn’t need one since Yato, Hiyori, Kazuma, and Kofuku were really the only people he needed to communicate with. but he seemed really excited to use trash dad’s. I’m in pain.

I’m thinking back to when Hiyori almost asked Yukine how he died way back in the beginning of the manga and trash dad now telling Yukine “Hiyori never wanted to know? I bet she did, since humans always want to pry into other people’s business” you shut your mouth

Speaking of Hiyori all we got of her this chapter was her looking pissed off. When she arrives to the fight I just want her to fuck shit up. She may not have her half ayakashi form but she can still snap trash dad’s neck in half.

Perhaps the reason Yukine didn’t find any news articles about himself was because “Haru” was just a nickname. I find it hard to believe that there was nothing about him going missing, especially since his dad made a fuss with putting up missing person flyers everywhere. There’s no way the police wouldn’t have gotten involved, right?

Either way it doesn’t really matter--his dad never got charged with anything even if he was a suspect, and no one else cared enough to look either.

this is so many levels of fucked

“So even now my father is still killing me” this line. THIS LINE. THIS FUCKING LINE. It’s such a succinct and excellent summary of Yukine as a character--as much as we love our son, the fact remains that he is dead. And he is dead because of his father’s abuse and society’s neglect. So no matter however much he grows and changes in the afterlife, it cannot change that his life was cut short far too soon, and everything good that happens to him is overshadowed by the fact that it’s indirectly because of his nasty father. And he got away with it. I can’t.

Before this chapter came out I speculated we’d want to strangle Yukine’s dad even more than we already did. and I was right. but holy shit this line was a kick in the gut while I’m still recovering from “that boy loved people”

Yukine loved people too....he loved people and they turned their backs on him BUT HE NEVER GAVE UP ON LOVING!!! IT JUST TOOK A DIFFERENT SHAPE. FUCK.

So Father knows someone visited the fridge. I wonder if he’s figured out that it was Hiyori yet. I just want her to snap him like a twig. it’s what he deserves.

Father also doesn’t care about Yukine, like, at all (we been knew), to the point he couldn’t even realize the only blond character in this fucking manga now has black hair. MAN. that just says a lot about him, huh.

Are we going to find out whether one of his parents was foreign?? He and Yuka are both noticeably light-haired and it hasn’t been addressed aside from Yukine’s hair color changing.

The hair color change was the only spoiler I saw before the chapter came out and it’s been haunting me ever since. I thought initially Yukine dyed his hair while trash dad was out, but now I wonder if the dark hair is his vessel form? Fujisaki summoned him before leaving, so I don’t know. He does look like his bird ayakashi form with having clawed hands as well.

I remember seeing speculation that trash dad generally tells the truth. well as of this chapter we know he’s a fucking liar. Hiyori left that flower, and I think it will end up being important in the long run when Yukine realizes that she’s the only human who truly cares about him.

Whether trash dad has been telling the truth about other things remains to be seen. We still don’t know how he got out of Yomi, if that’s really what happened to make him immortal. But this lie about the flower seems to be a white lie. He could have just said he didn’t know. If he so readily lied about this, who’s to say he hasn’t been lying about other things too, you know?

Yukine destroying the fridge would normally make me be like good for her.jpeg but since the context is him with trash dad I actually hate it

Since Yukine is now so eager to meet his dad I can’t shake the feeling that he’s dead. It would be the perfect gut-punch for him to demand why his father killed him, only to find out that he’s dead (and maybe even that YATO did it...which would only add more fuel to the fire....fuck) and never get to resolve his turmoil.

I’ve been on the fence about whether Yukine’s dad is still alive but based on this chapter I’m putting my bets on “he’s dead and Yato killed him back in the early manga because that would cause the most suffering at present and that generally seems to be the route Adachitoka takes.”

Like, yeah, if Yato did it it was to protect Yukine, but that doesn’t matter when he’s already so pissed off at Yato.

Yato only fired on trash dad because he didn’t know that it was Yukine with him. And Yukine is again thinking that Yato is trying to hurt him. This chapter is also a horrible inversion of...was it 83-2? where Yato tried to kill trash dad and Yukine stopped him? Except now this time it’s not because Yukine wants answers, it’s because he’s pissed at Yato and loyal to trash dad.

Yato was also a fool for thinking sniping trash dad from afar would work, especially when it didn’t even work the first time.

So now the thing I’ve been working up to talking about throughout these many, many words: Hagusa’s vessel form is...himself. He is the weapon. This is such a wonderful (and terrible) narrative choice I’m delighted by where it will take us physically and metaphorically, but obviously it hurts. A lot.

Yuuki being himself the weapon that trash dad fights Yato with for what may be their final showdown is such a fitting culmination to his character arc in this section of the story. (when trash dad said he would turn him into a weapon I DIDN’T REALIZE IT WAS LITERAL)

This is also a good choice art-wise because it means even more pain with seeing Yukine physically fighting Yato rather than Yato and trash dad fighting with swords or something.

So Yato met with Yuka before (it was a flashback, as many people pointed out to me after I goofed last month lmao) but whether that was earlier today or further in the past remains to be seen. I hope he told her to get out because it seems like trash dad is heading into her house while Yato and Yukine face off.

well. “face off” is maybe an exaggeration. Yato will not be able to fight Yukine at all and I’m anticipating he gets the shit kicked out of him, again, while he tries to make him see reason. bro. I hate this. I really, really hate this. This final fight is going all the ways I knew it would, but hoped it wouldn’t.

Hiyori and Nora come help please

July can’t come soon enough

I’m pretty sure this is my longest thoughts post ever. so much happened and I have so many feelings about all of it.

#Noragami #Noragami manga #Noragami spoilers #chapter 88.2 #AND NOW WITH THAT I will try to get some more sleep.#live update

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shadow--link · 3 years ago

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List of things that I don't get because Ganon sucked as a 'parent' and I hate humans but the list gets more concerning the more you read it

uh tw this is kinda a vent

1: People liking 'toe beans' What is so cool about an animal's feet grippers. and like, I saw them on a fersona and they had human hands..that is very imprracticall..just..why

2: Calling things cute. it fucking makes me sick. I hear it so much I wanna burn something. Like people calling a shirt cute and the shirt is one piece of a cloth that barly covers their breasts. No. It's not cute, it's gross.

3: Sticking your tongue out trying to be cute/sexy The amount of rage that boils inside me when I see someone stick out their tongue is insane. I feel so fucking pissed and I don't know why. I wanna punch them in the face and rip out their tongue then burn it.

4: People that I look up to liking something I know shit about I feel bad that I don't know this thing you really like and I wanna relate with you but if all you talk about is this thing I know nothing about I feel dumb and stupid like I wanna cry and why am I your friend when we have nothing in common..I just feel bad and I hate it and I don't know why.

5: Not knowing 100% of a hyperfixation Like I kinda enjoy the DreamSMP but there's things in it that I don't know..it took me weeks to figure out what o7 meant (it's a salute) and like EVERYONE knew what it was and I didn't and I felt like a fake fan cause I don't know what this thing is and it's CLEARLY IMPORTANT but I don't know what it is cause I joined the fandom late and now I'm the stupid one

6: any word that ends in 'isum' Like... "oh nooo the people that have more meletonin then me are evil" the fuck. Why is that even a thing. "Oh no, person have boobie and coochie. Person stupid. I have penis. I smart." why. Y'all are all Hylians. Just..fucking GAH stAHP with it. It makes no sense. What's so bad about someone being a different colour then you? IT'S A FUCKING COLOUR GUHHHHHH also "oh no man kissed another man the world is gonna end." Why. THey're just kissing. I don't..H

7: I can't remember shit for shit Why is forgetting things a thing. I hate it. SOmetimes I can't remember what my favorite "insert noun here" is! Like someone will ask me "Hey what's your favorite food??" And I don't fucking know! WHY DON'T I FUCKING KNOW?? IT'S mY FAVORITE FOOD! I SHOULD KNOW THESE THINGS! But I don't.. like, I think it's sushi.. but now that I think about it, sushi is kinda gross. So it could be pizza.. but.. ok there's nothing bad about pizza, but..I sound like a dumb little kid saying that..

8: I'm close to being an adult Ganon forced me to grow up from a young age. I don't remember my childhood..probably because I didn't have one. Man, this thouht hurts the most.. I've been forced to mature far before I'm ready..I'm still 15..I'm still a kid...but no, I'm almost 16 and at 16 I HAVE to get a job or I'll just be sitting around the castle like a worthless sack of fleash... and well, I am in a batter situation now, I'm living in the castle with Link and his family.. no longer with abusive Ganon.. but Link's Dad is still scary when he yells...and he expects me to work when I'm 16 and to stop mooching off of him in my mid 20's...but... I don't feel like I'm ready.. I can't function on my own... I really can't...and..I finally worked up the courage to tell Zelda that.. but Link's Dad heard me say that, and he said "So I've failed you? It's my job to prepare you for the outside world!"..or something like that.. it made me feel so upset.. I ran out of the room and fled to my bed to cry, and wanting to die.. I'm not suicidal. I'm scared of death. But in that moment..I really wanted to die.

9: Talking about feelings I never vent. This is like the 3rd time I've vented. Besides in Among Us. hheh, sorry. I couldn't help myself..humor is how I cope with stuff. Guess I now understand why the 'funny friend' in memes is portrayed as sad when alone..cause at the end of the day, that's what I am. Alone. with no one to talk too. Guess that's why I went back to this blog to vent.. Link might see this and talk to me, though. And I know Vio will be talking through him. Just hope he doesn't scold me about putting this on Tumbler lol........what was I saying.. oh right.. talking about feelings is hard for me. When I was young, before Ganon stole me from my homeland, I was always an outcast. The one time I went to school, everyone hated me. Now that I look back, it's probaly cause I have autism and ADHD. Well, I might have them. Not diagnosed yet. But Me and Zelda have done the reasurch. A tone of it. And there's no way I'm nerotypical. But anyway. No one wanted to be my friend when I was a child. Probably why Ganon took me away. I wouldn't be missed. And I wasn't. Only a few remembered who I was when I returned to Lorole after breaking the mirror. I spelled that wrong but don't care. And the friends I made as a kid...I couldn't find them..and any friends I did make...man..I was such an asshole towards. I.. was transphobic towards this one friend...I feel so bad about it. I hate how I used to act. I hate it. I fucking hate it so much I just wanna- no. that's not me anymore. No more killing.

10: The medical system Why do ya gotta wait years to get diagnosed for mental disorders. WHy do you gotta be an adult to get trans uh helping surgery. Why do ya gotta wait till 16 to get on hormone blockers. THEY AIN'T GONNA BLOCK SHIT NO MORE, I ALREADY WENT THROUGH PUBORTY AND IT ENDED AT LIKE 14 FOR ME!... at least my chest is small. I am so greatful that my chest is small and can be hidden in a bif shirt. "bUt ShAdOw LiNk, YoU'rE a BoY" well I'm glad you think that, asshole. SOmetimes, when a Lohian/shadow/shade is born, they're the oppaside of Hylians, right? Well, sometimes the gender is reversed as well..so...Link is male, I was born a female. Hada stupid ass name that sounds like raw-vio lmao. But I didn't like that. So I changed..I.. wanted to be Link, but different.. so I called myself Lync, cause that looks cool. But Ganon was like "No, that sounds like Link, and he's an asshole. Don't call yourself Lync." So he called me Shadow Link.. and well, that's the only thing Ganon has done to me that I don't hate...but now that I think about it, I kinda relate to the Lohian god Loki and wanna call myself that instead. But anyway..when I failed at anything, Ganon would call me by my deadname. I hated it.. when I would win, he would call me Shadow Link. And I started to hate my deadname...now I hate it cause it's too girly. Reminds me of the old old me. I think I got off track. oh well.

this had been a list of shit that pisses me off. There might be more to add to this but I'm sad, it's late, and I don't want Link yelling at me. Goodnight.

#shadow link #tw #vent #tw vent #vent tw #yelling tw #tw suicide mention #no I'm not self projecting at all what do you mean #ok maybe I am #but like i never vent and shit has been building up inside me and i don't know any other way to let it out #so i let it out through shadow link #that's how i let out all my anger #by pretending to be someone im not #......guess i really am them #heh

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anonymous0writer · 4 years ago

Text

Saving You III JJ Maybank

Part Two: Toeing the Line

Author: @anonymous0writer

Summary: You and JJ had been best friends for as long as you lived. But the feelings that would change your status haven’t been said. Will the words ever be said?

Warnings: Parental abuse/abuse, (more in detail..) swearing.. Going into detail about emotions? I don’t know...

A/N: This one is really long bc I went back to edit and added a shit tom of detail and angst ig. Also, I tried to edit it the best I could.. Anyway, I really like this series, and I’m gonna be so sad when its done even though I’m on the second part, lol.

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There was something in the air. Maybe it was the tang of rain just before it hit. Or maybe it was the way the clouds looked a little darker than the hour before. Whatever it was, it was there. Twisting and churning feeling that sat in his gut, making his face twist in sickness. It was like stepping off a plane, the indescribable feeling of you not begin right. Like you were meant to be in the air, pressure against your ears and flying in the sky, not dropped to the ground, heavy and lost. But no matter it was, the foreboding was there. Settled into his stomach like a lithe creature, ready to strike when the moment came.

He didn’t know what it was, but it was like the calm before the storm. The crispness of the air, the sharp tang of rain about to fall, and then it hits. The consuming, hoard of dark clouds, rolling over the sky in a furious march. Clouds that left the bone quivering, earth shaking booms of thunder and the wicked crack of lightening that light up the world for a second, before plummeting it into darkness.

The storm that brought destruction and havoc and sorrow. But so elegant in the way it destroyed you didn’t even think about it until you were left with the pieces of its aftermath.

It was like a hurricane. Blowing and whipping furiously, making it way to you, eating up the miles in its path, determined to destroy everything. It was hurtling toward you, and you were powerless to stop it, only able to hunker down and let it happen.

Whatever it was it was going to bad, and it made him sick. It was a knot in his stomach that tightened and made him sicker. He leaned forward, eyebrows pressed together in worry. What the hell was going to happen today?

---------

Y/N batted her friends grabby hands away, laughing at the same time. JJ smirked, able to get a loose fry with his agile fingers. Y/N squawked, her lips tugging into a frown as she watched the boy munch on the food happily.

“JJ!” She called, her agitation masking the way she melted and loved that he felt so comfortable to do the simple act of stealing a fry.

The boy smirked. “I’ll let you beat me to a wave today,” The boy winked, trying to make it up to her.

Y/N hide her smile as she moved her head so her long hair slid off her shoulder, dropping in front of her face. However JJ feared that he had actually made the girl mad at him, and leaned forward, fingers subconsciously brushing her hair back, tucking the loose stands back in place.

“Are you mad at me?”

Y/N gasped softly at the feeling of the edges of JJ’s fingertips ghosting her cheek and tucking her hair behind her ear. Her throat bobbed, and her eyes flickered to meet JJ’s. But Y/N was good at recovering fast, and she giggled, pushing the boy away again,

“JJ, stop!” Her lips split, revealing a full smile that lit up her face and made the edges of her eyes wrinkle. JJ loved that smile with everything he got, and always hated the way it disappeared. So, trying to get the smile back, his fingers reached out to attack her sides in tickles.

Soon enough, Y/N was laughing madly, head thrown back and hair in her face, as she tried to take a much needed breath, her hands pushing away the relentless ones of her best friend. JJ grinned, blue eyes shining as he continued his playful assault, coaxing gasps and squeals from his best friend.

“Alright, alright! J!” Y/N gasped, and the blonde let up, allowing her to catch a breath.

Across from the best friends sat the rest of their group. Pope was staring with eyebrows raised, and John B. was smirking at the pair, while Kie was cleaning up their mess so her father wouldn’t get mad.

“You two are on crack, I swear.” John B. muttered, popping a fry in his mouth as he leaned back in his chair, tipping it slightly.

“Shut up, John B!” Y/N yelled, a mischievous smirk plastered on her sunlit face. She reached into her basket of quickly diminishing fries and hurtled one at the tall boy across from her.

A thud sounded as John B.’s chair dropped and he retaliated with a fry in Y/N’s face. The revenge blew into a full on fry fight, and the friends were laughing and ducking from the onslaught of fries headed their way.

As JJ chucked a ketchup soaked fry toward Pope, he felt so happy. His eyes wandered to see Kie and Y/N huddled together, battling away the fries raining down on them with loud rounds of laughter. He took a split second break to admire his best friend since he was eight. She was beautiful, with her laugh that made everyone join in, with her kind words and big heart and her smile that had every person that met her falling in love.

But the fun was ended by Mr. Carrera and his sharp yell through the empty restaurant.

“Hey, knock it off.” He frowned, eyes landing on his daughter. “I thought I told you not to waste my food.” He grumbled, soon focusing on cleaning a spot on the counter.

“Sorry dad.” Kie winced, and smacked Pope’s hand with a glare as he tried to pick up a fry. “It’s getting late,” She comments, looking out the window of the Wreck, watching the sun sink lower into the horizon. “If we want to catch some waves,”

“We gotta go now.” Y/N finishes for her, hands scrambling to clean up the table now littered with grease soaked fries and splotches of ketchup and mustard. “John B, come on!” She chided as the boy waited a second too long to join in the collective work to clean up.

He jumped in, but JJ held back, struck frozen by the sinking feeling in his gut. His stomach knotted, giving him the feeling he woke up with this morning.

The calm before the storm.

“JJ?” Y/N prodded, eyes finding his as her eyebrows pushed together. She stood, brushing off her cutoffs with harsh wipes of her hands. Her eyes fixated on her friend, confusing pulling her eyebrows together. “Hey, J?” Her voice cooed, calling out to the blonde.

“Shit,” The surfer muttered, taking his hat off to run a hand through his messy hair. His blue eye seemed distant, but they were wide, like a child who forgot to do a chore and their parent was soon to catch them. “Fuck, you guys I gotta dip.”

“What? Where are you-” Kie started, but the boy was already off, spiriting through the Wreck’s door. His figure jumped on his bike, and soon he sped away, gravel spewing and the blue shirt he wore fading into a small speck until it was gone from sight.

Kie sputtered, eyebrows pulling down as her lips curved into a soft frown. “What the hell was that?”

Y/N takes a second before pulling her eyes away from where JJ ran off. Worry churned in her gut, as she finally lets her eyes tear away from the scene.

“I don’t know.” She breaths, trying to quell the bad feeling.

But she knows it hopeless. She’s always had a sixth sense when JJ was in trouble. Yet this time, that horrid feeling is coupled with another. It feels like her fear of something bad happening, but you have no control of it.

To Y/N, it felt exactly like the calm before a storm.

--------

“You worthless piece of shit!” The screams curl into JJ’s face, stale beer and bad breath hitting him in a wave. The boy presses himself back farther, the untamed wood digging into his back. His face scrunches up, and he tries desperately to block out the words.

The words crest and break in the blonde’s ear, settling deep into his brain, and joining the other nasty words thrown at him by his father. The words shook him to the core, bone quaking, eyes swimming and blood sizzling. His anger built higher and higher, growing rapidly, morphing into a beast. Anger at his father, for the shitty life handed to him and the only thing in the refrigerator was a week old beer his father downed every day. Anger at the world, for turning its back on him, shutting him out and letting him suffer. Suffer at the hands of his father. Who couldn’t stay sober for his life. And couldn’t ease the anger towards his son either. It all came to a 360, didn’t it?

But another feeling roared in him, unable to be put out like a simple fire. This feeling was almost as powerful at his anger, close, but not quite. This feeling wasn’t powerful in the ascend. Only in the descend. The emotion, the feeling that ran through his veins, running with the anger and doubling its strength was helpless pain. It was like being too close to the edge, where you looked down, breath catching, eyes watering at the wind, heart speeding. Where even though you tried to calm yourself with ragged breaths, your heart sped up into a gallop, beating wildly in your chest cavity, palms slick with sweat and ragged breaths pulling your chest in and out. It was when your hands shook, and your eyes burned and you were so angry that it took over every sense. When the anger was the only thing. Anger at nothing and everything. Anger burning in your chest as your hands lost control, and your mind reeled. Anger that clouded your brain like a disease, so fast and quick you didn’t even realize. The feeling that brought you to your knees when it rose to its height. Where your thoughts streamed so fast you could process everything and nothing. Where your bones stopped, and you sagged, the fight escaping you like a soul to a body. The fight, the survival instinct, the anger, it all faded, leaving you to break down, mind still reeling, hands still shaking, breaths still ragged. It was that feeling. The feeling of everything in you giving up to a break down. Where your thoughts broke on you, turning against you and watching you fall apart.

“Shut up!” JJ screams back, face contorting as he tries to handle the emotions raging in his chest. They were too much. He didn’t handle emotions well, not when they were like this. Not when they exploded and raged and screamed like this. He couldn’t handle the wailing symphony of his fathers words and the feelings of pain and anger rose to a crescendo in his ears. “Just shut up!”

He was yelling. Trying to block out the orchestra in his ears. To stop the emotions beating in his chest like they were alive. To stop his fathers lying, withering words from taking root in his mind and growing like a weed. He was trying to shut everything out. Because he couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t handle the way his fathers hands never failed to hurt, and his father words never failed to sting, and the way eyes never failed to pity as they landed on the bruises that seemed like permanent markings on his skin.

Luke’s fist slams into his son’s cheek, filed by rage and the abundance of alcohol. The hit sent JJ sideways, knees slamming into the floor with a hard thud as pain split across his face like a rapid spiderweb. It worked it’s way into every fiber of his face, searing and never ending. His jaw clenches, sending another wave of pain through his body, making his brain go fuzzy as his vision danced. His mind was slipping, trying to process the amount of pain, but failing to do so.

But magically, it cleared. The fog dispersed and gave way to sharp images, sending the boy back into reality, where his fathers fists were too real and the pain was too clear. But the haze only cleared to let another emotion peek through as he heard it. Heard the sound of gravel crunching under tires and brakes squeaking as the engine rumbled, dying. Pain slithered away into the corners of his brain to give way to a more powerful emotion. Fear. Fear because he knew exactly whose there’s that care belonged to. Knew exactly the way the gravel surrendered under the weight of a certain tire. Of a certain car. The car belonged to her. Y/N.

She was here, knowing something was terribly wrong the second the boy stopped reveling in the childish food fight. Because she always did. Her gut always twisted a certain way, giving her a bad feeling that never faded until she investigated. She always seemed to know when he was in trouble and came running, eager to ease the feeling and help. She’d gotten that sense the moment the boys eyes landed on her all those years back. It was a gift. A gift, a connection between two people who’s love ran deeper than blood and deeper than words itself. But in most cases, the gift was a curse. Because every time her gut twisted that way, or she’d frown because she felt undeniably wrong, JJ was hurt, beaten bloody by his own father. Most of the time she showed up when Luke was passed out drunk on the couch, chest rising in falling in a drunken slumber, JJ visiting a world of pain on the floor or gripping his head like it was going to burst as he sat, door locked in his bedroom. But now she’d shown up when Luke was towering over the blonde, words bellowing out of his heaving chest.

“No,” JJ whispers, fear spiking in his chest, hitting a certain place in his heart. Everything- the anger, the helplessness, the crescendo of wails and words screamed by his father- died. Faded into the background to bow to the new comer. Fear. Not fear of his father. Not fear that his father would go too far and actually kill him. Not it wasn’t fear for him. This fear was for his best friend. His bright eyed, smiling friend who he’d fallen in love with,

His fear was for Y/N. Fear that she’d get hurt. And if she got hurt- JJ wouldn’t even allow the thought to fully develop or form into a real sentence. He couldn’t- wouldn’t go there. The thought brought too many already present emotions and more to the front.

As the surfer tried to scramble away, the pads of his fingers digging into the fought grain of the wooden floor, he was grabbed. Luke flipped JJ over, hands rough, and words hitting JJ’s ear, making the boy flinch. Fists started raining down on his face, head smashed into the worn floorboards of the house. The blondes eyes fluttered shut, his brain threatening to stop. JJ was in too much pain, his mind clouded and vision swimming to hear the porch door and the main door smack open. It was too late. Too late to get up, shove his dad off and beg Y/N to leave, let his father run his course. But pain was a powerful thing, leaving JJ prone on the floor as the door to the house of pain opened to reveal Y/N.

“Stop!” Her screams ran through the air, snapping her best friend out of his haze of misery. “What are you doing?” Her voice wavered, breaking as it gave away to fear and distress. Worry seeped into the words, making her cries desperate.

The boy on the floor groans, heat splitting in pain as he moves, picking himself up. He stumbles, knees threatening to give way, and face bruised and bloody. His lips are cracked and parted, blood leaking from an open wound, thick and dark. His cheek is swollen, red and puffy with purple blooming across it like a wildfire. It was like the purple of the fading sunset, elegant and soft for such an alarming, pain filled color. A cut mars his right eyebrow, breaking up the symmetry of his abuse. His eyes are sad, the azure color dulled and faded, weak without the light of his usual smile or carefree laugh. His lips don’t tug into a flirty smirk, but frown in a soft, giving up manner.

When he opens his mouth, he finds his might too dry and throat too clogged to speak. So he tried again, voice hoarse and broken. “Get out of here!” He begs, fear and desperation thick in his rough voice. His pleas reach his friend, sounding harsher than he intended. Subconsciously, the JJ places himself in front of Y/N and his seething father. His hands are still shaking, weak and bruised as he holds them up, trying to keep his fathers hands of misery away from the perfect light of his best friend.

“What is she doing her?” Luke barks, his voice rapsy with the gruffness of a man with only anger and cheap alcohol in his blood can obtain.

“I’m gonna get her out dad. Alright? We’re gonna leave.” JJ’s hands shake more as he plays mediator, eyes beseeching his unforgiving father. He swallows the lump in his throat, trying to quell the soreness. He’s begging. Begging with his father to let them go- or at least Y/N. And begging with his best friend to leave, leave so his father can keep his reign of terror focused on the blonde and not her.

“You’re not leaving!” Luke thundered, brows glaring down as he surveyed the two kids. His stained tank top lifted at uneven intervals as his chest heaved, ragged breaths pulling in and out of his frowning mouth. His lips were screwed into a disgust filled sneer.

But Y/N wasn’t having it. JJ’s cerulean eyes flickered to meet hers, seeing them spark with fire and sadness. A combination her best friend knew too well. So, with a rare surge of bravery, fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins at the best of her thundering heart, she stepped forward. Her feet groaned against the wood as she went forward, short, quiet gasps falling from her dry lips. She was now exposed to Luke’s fury. JJ was no longer in front of her, protecting her. And it was her own doing.

“Stop it! He doesn’t deserve it.” Y/N’s voice was ragged, seeping with desperation as she begged with the inconsolable man in front of her.

JJ’s heart twisted at the words, squeezing painfully as it hammered against his bruised ribs. Breath caught, he stopped, but he was too late. He wasn’t in front of her in time, wasn’t meditating like he was begging for life. He was too late. Luke’s hand was already flying, and the loud sound of skin hitting skin filled the room. The sound was enough to make JJ flinch, a smack and cry sounding. The cry ripping from a familiar throat, provoked by the shock and pain. Y/N fell, the power of the slap sending her to her knees. She hit the floor, ground thundering as her hands flew to her cheek. Her fingers were gentle, exploring the source of pain now stinging across her face.

JJ was positive that he could hear his heart crack. Positive that the sound of it was breaking wasn’t only in his ears, adding to the decrescendo of wails and words in his ears. The boy was sure, if you looked hard enough, you could see the soft, yet strong webbing of his heart break and fall into tiny, sharp pieces, lost in his rib cage.

“Dad!” He screamed, shock forcing the words from his constricted throat. His ocean eyes brimming with tears and clouding his vision as he watched you gasp, red blooming fast on your cheek from where his father hit you. His father. Leaving his own abuse mark. On you. On the one person JJ cared about more than himself. On the one person he wouldn’t think twice about giving his life for. On the one person he promised nothing would happen to. On the one person he loved with every bit of his fucked up self.

He broke his gaze on your to look at his father. Despite his mind still trying to process everything- everything from the downhill spiral of his roaring emotions and the increased climb of his pain- he thought fast. Quicksilver. Turning to his father, he put his hands- now less shaky- up in surrender. His cerulean eyes were back to begging. “Alright.. We’re leaving. I’m getting her out of here, alright?”

Luke’s lips curled into a sneer, and he spit on the floor, eyes hard and filled with disgust and to JJ’s relief, disinterest. His father turned away, searching for a beer like a lost man at sea for land. Once he was sure, his fathers mind was only on the cheap alcohol littering the house, JJ spun, eyes zoning in on his best friend. His blue eyes locked on your figure.

Breathing her name in a ragged whisper, JJ dropped to his knees next to her, ignoring the pain exploding like rouge fireworks in every part of his body. The wince didn’t hide the pain, but the boy was used to hiding. He ignored his pain, lips pressed together in a thin, determined line. Because the bruised ribs and face that were throbbing and screaming were nothing compared to the way his heart broke and seized at seeing you fall victim to his fathers vicious hands.

“Hey,” He whispered, voice barely audible as he called out to his friend. His fingers reached, touching the soft underside of her jaw as his hands cupped Y/N’s cheeks like they were glass.

Y/N’s heart ached at the way JJ cupped her face. Like she was so fragile and could break with the slightest pressure. Like he didn’t want to hurt her, and only craved to protect her. Alike he was sorry, and he couldn’t convey it in words, so he tried in touch. Like he was heartbroken over seeing her like this.

JJ’s eyes swam with unshed tears as they pooled. His attentive eyes saw the familiar welt form on your cheek bloom like a flower in spring. The welt was big and angry, making the boy clench his jaw tightly. His nostrils flared as his ears registered the gasp falling from your parted lips and the hurt look in your eyes.

And he realized. The bad feeling this morning. The creature settling in his gut, waiting to strike. The feeling that reminded JJ of the times a hurricane would be broadcasted on the TV screen, the brightness of the pictures blaring and the detached voices of newscasters loud. This, this right here- his best friend sitting on the floor, bruising cheek cradled in his rough hands, both of them victims of his father- was the foreboding in his gut in the early morning.

Before- that was the calm before the storm.

And this- this was worse. This was the crashing of the waves after cresting to a scary height. This was the raging wind, coupled with the stabbing rain. This was the crescendo of the deafening music where you covered your ears with your hands, eyes squeezed shut. This was the sharp crack of lighting exploding across the night cry. This was the moment where all the fight left your body, leaving you empty and hollow, a husk of your emotions. This was the silent scream of mind tearing pain. This was the rising panic in your chest. This was the feeling of seeing Y/N and her abuse. This was the feeling of helplessness as you looked up, neck craning back as your eyes tracked the rising wave, fear heavy in your chest as your realized your fate and there was nothing you could do about it.

This was the storm.

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evolsinner · 3 years ago

Text

⊱┊28

i’m out of breath, but due to the propinquity of isaac killian standing right there in front of me, i’m catching my breath a lot faster.

he’s glaring, two vertical creases forming in between his thick eyebrows. those analytical lime green eyes survey me: my smudged mascara in the trail of tears, my black teardrops hanging off the ends of my jawline, my messy hair in a heap over my forehead is proof enough…

i hug myself in the growing cold, the denim spaghetti strap dress being the only material on my body. with its drawstrings loose on my back, i struggle to keep my boobs out of view. both of the men stare at me and i’ve never, in my life, felt more humiliated.

isaac pupils restrict incredibly fast and then dilutes even faster. the lime green becomes destructive and his sclera turns a deadly shade of red. it’s amazing how a person can seem so calm yet have fiery storms raging within their eyes.

they. are. merciless.

not only am i scared of the person behind, but the person in front of me…

strangely, slowly, isaac comes in for a hug. it’s almost as if he knows i’m all broken and taped together with just masking tape. i flinch as soon as he touches me, shake even. then i realise he’s doing up the drawstrings behind my dress via a hug.

once done, he cups my face softly with both hands and words sternly, “get behind me,” with a jaw so sharp, i could slit my finger on it.

“sir, fancy seeing you here,” theo says. “guess the deal is broken then, amirite?”

deal? what deal?

“theo jameson,” isaac steps forward. “apologise,” he clenches his jaw, stern as ever, “to her now.”

“excuse me?” theo laughs out. “you want me to apologise to her?” he points at himself, then at me. “when it should be that bitch begging me for an apology!”

sir blinks hard at the b~word. he tilts his head to the side, trying to keep his cool, however, the thick veins running up his arms screams otherwise. “don’t make me say it again because i won’t.” he takes another step forward. “do as i say or it won’t end well for you.” it’s like sir is talking to a toddler, each word he utters is said so sternly and clearly.

i clutch his arm, “c’mon, let’s just go,” tugging him away. “it’s not worth it.”

“neither for you!” theo rebuts, his cockiness right up there. “once i inform the school board of what you two have been up to, the cops will be all over your smug asses! thought you were better than this, rosé!”

i just feel dirtier the more he stares.

mr killian steps in front of me so that i’m out of theo’s view. “do not test me or else~”

“‘or else’ what, sir?! hm? or, else, what?”

“or else, i will,

rip

you

apart.”

“is that a threat?” theo scoffs.

“a ‘threat’?” mr killian chuckles, but there’s absolutely nothing in that chuckle that i recognise. “nah, i don’t make threats, jameson,” he shakes his head. “i make promises.”

“oh really? what you gonna do, sir?” theo pushes him by the shoulder. “hit me?”

i literally feel isaac’s whole arm tense up in my hold, and each time he tries to move it, i hug it tighter. i get that he wants give his knuckles a cause, but he’ll wreck theo. he looks at his shoulder, revolted at the fact that theo had the nerve to touch him, even if it was a slight push, a slight provoking move.

��theo, just fuck off.” i’m giving him a warning, a chance.

“rosé, is this the guy who you’ve been fucking?” theo raises his eyebrows, amused for some reason. “tell me, is he worth it? actually, no, tell me this, do your parents know?”

“you are a worthless piece of white fucking trash,” i seethe.

theo licks his lips, “mm, feisty!”

yeah nah, that’s it. i loosen my grip on isaac’s arm.

“let’s face it, sir,” theo daringly faces him. “you, can’t, do, shit, to me. because if you did, that’s another offense added to your~”

isaac wastes not another second of knocking his loudmouth out. theo stumbles back from the overwhelming force. he presses his fingers to his nose and looks at the bright red blood smudged over his fingertips. he doesn’t like shame, never did, and retaliates immediately.

and now there’s a full~blown out fistfight between two boys, on the lawn, in the middle of a dead silent night. what are the fuck, man?!!

18 is no match for a 38, not at all. theo only gets like 2 good blows in before isaac gets right on top of him and takes ferocious swings at his face. blood splatters everywhere, bruises form all over theo’s ‘perfect’ features. he should know better than to smirk, but he doesn’t, which only pisses isaac off more.

a few door lamps flip on from down the street.

“stop!” i grab onto isaac’s arm mid~air. “please! that’s enough!”

he groans in vexation, not wanting to halt, but takes my word over his own ferocity. getting up, he points at theo, “if you so much as touch a single hair on her head again, i will break your fucking neck! got that?”

theo rolls onto his side, coughing up blood and still having the balls to grin through it. “you know…sir..i just wanted to let you know...i did get in there..”

i close my eyelids, theo, mate, you’ve just granted yourself an actual death wish.

what comes after is deafening when all i hear is silence. isaac becomes a roman statue. i glance up at him. he’s staring straight ahead. that jaw of his is bound to break if clenches it any harder.

“you enjoyed it, rosé,” theo adds. “i know you did.”

in milliseconds, the shell crumbles down isaac’s body. he lets go of me, spins around and walks straight back to theo. he gets right on top of him and slams his knuckles into theo’s forehead again and again like it’s a piece of cake. sure as hell a red velvet cake, that is.

“isaac, stop!” i scream.

theo is becoming unconscious…

“stop it, isaac! you’re killing him!”

sir is mad; i’m talking jon snow destroying ramsay bolton after the battle of the bastards mad. i literally have no idea what to do other than to yell out ‘stop’ which is obviously going over his enraged head.

“I LOVE YOU.”

isaac freezes, his fist mid~air.

“i fucking love you, okay?” i lay my hand on his shoulder. “so,” i sniffle, “can we please just get the fuck out of here? please.”

he places his hand on mine, squeezes a little, then…then…then finally gets up.

thank god.

#love #student #teacher #teacher x student #romance #words #thoughts #fiction #poem #poems #poetry #friends #aesthetic #story #short story

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thewhizzyhead · 4 years ago

Note

you very much Should Keep going (if you’d like) I’m reading your tags like 👀👀👀 I wanna know More!!!

dude believe me i only just thought up 90% 9f this while doing my math homework last night so yea this is very barebones and this is very very new have very little to offer but um imma try to explain a bit more fjdjdc SO ANYWAYS GRADE 11

Warning: this is very long and I am very sorry aaAAAA also i only just thought of this last night and a while ago while attending class so um yea it's chaotic.

the songs i've mentioned so far in the tag ramble aren't um consecutive so yeah there are a lot of blank spaces in between fjsjsj and yea I haven't figured out the other leads and their arcs yet (probably 5-6 leads). for now um the planned songs feature 3 of the leads:

Kate - basically answers the question of What If Eva Sanchez Was The Protagonist and What If Eva Sanchez Saw The Hell That Is Don't Even (in this show, this song is called "Anakpota?" or "The Fuck?"); she's a transferee and is having a bit of a hard time adjusting to the new school environment; her reasons for transferring run a bit deeper than just "humanities is a lot more interesting than stem or business shits"; i guess her main character themes are burnout, the want for childlike wonder again and overcoming the fear that comes with chasing what you really want and no i am definitely not self projecting what are you guys talking about smh rhhdhs /hj (altho i admit that this is loosely based on my own experience with deciding to transfer schools) and yea she's a very closeted lesbian that slowly starts to comes out to others and to herself more throughout the course of the show. and also she gets a girlfriend YAY

Noel - rn i don't have that much planned out for him cause u know barebones plot but so far um i guess he's the chill dude, overall good guy, rantaro amami from danganronpa v3 vibes, and he's initially framed as the "love interest" for Kate esp in the song "Ikaw Ba Ay..." or "Are You..." (i wanted that to be a play on the typical Filipino Teen Hetero Romance CAUSE THAT SHIT IS IN EVERYWHERE JFJSJD I AM GONNA MAKE A WHOLEASS RANT ON THAT SOON AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME) but surprise motherfucker BOTH OF THEM ARE GAY AND BOTH BOND OVER IT AND BECOME BEST FRIENDS YAY WOOOO i kinda want him to be like the typical "Filipino Teen Heartthrob" star student with the twist being that he's gay and not make that a throwaway joke cause um yea that's a throwaway joke here that someone who is real catch for the heteros but is actually gay is "sayang" or "worthless" here.

Ella - ngl she is probably gonna end up as the main lead here fjdjd i'd say she has riley+chess vibes aka The School's Hotshot Achiever and Student Leader That Is Very Intimidating But Is Actually Really Freaking Kind and i guess with a dash of Kate Dalton-ish snark. Like i said the plot is barebones rn so i dunno anything but i do imagine them being the one that drives the plot forward due to her outspokenness. I also imagine her to be the one (along with Noel) that makes Kate a lil bit more comfortable with her sexuality and yup you guessed it Ella is gay too (bi to be specific oh and she uses she/they pronouns) and altho still a bit closeted, they're a bit more comfy with it. also they become Kate's gf yay!

those are the leads that i have kinda planned out so far but yea i still gotta expound kna lot of atuff and make up more leads for this but then again i just started conceptualizing this last night so ANYWAYS HERE ARE THE OTHERS SONGS THAT I LITERALLY JUST THOUGHT UP LAST NIGHT (aside from the ones already mentioned)

+ "Nakakapanibago" or "Well This Is New" - Ella and Kate work together on a school project aaand gay panic ensues. both of them take turns in addressing the audience and panicking over each other in um er an "Oh My God She's Very Fucking Cute What The Fuck" way. it kinda has What Is This Feeling from Wicked vibes if you remove the aggression and antagonization jdjsd and i kinda emphasize on how overwhelmed they are cause for Kate, everything - from the school to the subjects to the people - is new and her attraction to Ella is like a cherry bomb on top of a chaos cake while for Ella, who has studied in the school since kindergarten which is why nothing about the school fazes her anymore, Kate is a literal breath of fresh air and the spontaneity scares them and excites them at the same time. The number is comedic (and is chance for me to add a shit ton of wordplay cause yAY WORDPLAY) but i guess also hints at their fears which will definitely come into play later.

+ "Mabuting Laban" or "Good Fight" - a group number led by Ella, this is the first song in the musical that isn't mostly comedic. like um the musical so far (before this song) is mostly somewhat of a parody-just-for-laughs-don't-take-this-seriously piece but with this, the show finally hints to something a lot more serious and insightful. so basically ella tells kate (this scene comes right after the Nakakapanibago sequence) that they have noticed that the latter is um very very shocked at the blatant show of LGBTQ+ stuff. Kate mentions that altho many students have since then spoke up for LGBTQ+ acceptance, things were a lot more conservative back in her former school (once again wooo definitely not self projection /hj) so like seeing all this is very new to her. Ella then mentions that things weren't always like that - a lot of fighting had to be done in order to get to that point. and because most of the students already were branded with a rebellious reputation (for a lot of delinquent behavior), they really didn't give a fuck anymore if they were being controversial or not. What mattered was that they would make the school environment a lot more welcoming for themselves and for others. That sentiment is also shared by other leads singing along as they go out of their way to ensure a much better environment for everyone (in terms of lgbtq+ rights, undoing the stigmatization of mental health matters, student activism yadda yadda)

(oh and also this kinda serves as something that bridges the prejudices between the two schools since Ella's school is famous for a lot of student delinquency while Kate's former school is famous for being known as the "Best School In The Region With The Best Students" (which is why Ella understands why the students in Kate's school are a bit more hesitant to speak up because Kate's former schoolmates got way too much to lose) and the rivalry those schools have with each other cause students from ella's school think those from kate's school are pompous little shits while those from kate's school think that ella's schoolmates are delinquents and yes this is commentary on the dynamic my former school'scstudents and my current school's students share) (i should probably give this its own song)

+ "Ayoko" or " I Don't Want It" - (this does not come right after Mabuting Laban fjsjd i honestly dunno where to put this) this comes right after a conversation regarding her reputation in her former school and yea this is Kate poking fun at the "I Want" song musical trope. Like um she addresses the audience saying something along the lines of "oooohh wow complicated backstory exposition! you are probably expecting a song rn ala "How Far I'll Go" from Moana but guess what bitches fuck you all cause i'm gonna sing a song about the things I don't want just to fucking annoy you." it starts off as incredibly satirical and um Kate Dalton-vibes all throughout the scene with lots of pettiness which will then gradually transition to her singing about how she threw all the opportunities presented to her by the former school just because she really didn't want to do them and was tired of saying "yes" just to be enough for them. She then starts singing about her taking control of her own narrative by finally leaving the school. She still laments about those lost opportunities and admits that she still kinda wants to pursue those, but if she has to sacrifice rest for greatness, then she doesn't want it. The song ends with a verse akin to most I Want songs as she finally admits what she really wants the most: rest and wonder.

also here's a verse i made up just a while ago

Diyos ko, sabihin mo, ano pa ang kailangan kong gawin/upang mabawi ang mga ninakaw sa akin/upang maibalik ang pag-asang nawala/upang sa wakas ako'y makakapagpahinga/sapagkat hindi na ako nagnanais ng kadakilaan/ang hinihingi ko lamang ay ang aking kabataan

translation (i'll try my best to make it rhyme): My God, tell me, what else do i have to do/so I can take back all that they have taken from me/so that I can bring back the hope I've long so been deprived of/so that for once in my life, I'll be able to breathe/ cause I no longer want all the greatness that you say I could've had/ I only want to wonder, I only want my childhood back

+ "Halos Lagi Nalang"or "Almost Always The Same" - if this sounds familiar yes i rambled about this before gjdjdjd I started conceptualizing this song even before i even started conceptualizing the musical. So yea this is in Act 2 the song starts with mentioning the exhaustion that comes with being an LGBTQ+ teen in the philippines cause yup same old conservative religious bullshit same old same old shit and despite many a lot of people advocating for LGBTQ+ rights, nothing ever changes around here because well conservative religious bullshit. so yea this is kind of an extension of "Good Fight" but make it more about the burnout felt by a lot of teens that want something better than whatever we have right now. Then it will also apply to the other causes that the leads fight for (activism,destigmatization of mental health stuffs, etc). I'd say it's a combination of Before the Breakdown + Move On musically speaking (yea PMA has influenced me by a LOT). eventually this becomes one of the star numbers fo the show cause yea all the leads will do a shit ton of singing and harmonizing (but for here i'd say Noel and Kate have a tiny bit more of the spotlight since for now they are the ones with the very LGBTQ+ based plotlines). I really REEAAALLY want this song to work aaaa i've been playing around with the melody a lot recently and if i can't write the whole musical, then i'll be content with at the very least writing this song

+ "Try Lang Natin" or "Let's Try It Out" - this is a very barebones sequence atm but basically it's a scene where both Kate and Ella come to terms with their fears related to uncertainty and go "fuck it we don't know jackshit about the future anyway so why not ondulge a bit and ejoy what we have today" and decide to start going out with each other YAYYYYY and also this is like one of the few scenes here were Ella is much more visibly nervous compared to everyone else in the scene so yay for helping each other come to terms with their own vulnerabilities WOOOOO (also paige i remember you saying once that kate and eva could've had a Forever reprise duet right? And correct me if i'm wrong but i think u said it could be about eva assuring kate that she won't go anywhere? WELP I'M STEALING THAT JFJSJJDF /lh /hj AND YUP KATE AND ELLA ARE BASICALLY UM KINDA KATEVA IF YOU SQUINT SO THANK YOU PAIGE FOR THAT IDEAAAA)

AND THAT'S IT SO FAR WOO THIS TOOK ME 5 HOURS TO TYPE IT ALL OUT FJDJSJFF i'm kinda impressed with this ngl considering that i literally started making this up last night and i hope that i can make something out of it woo

And if you guys somehow reached the end of the post and have read every single thing, I'm sending you a lot of hugs and a lot of milkshakes

#paige i am so so sorry it took a long time and i am so sorry that the response is VERY VERY LONG DJXJS #but i hope you liked it!#the ask cheered me up btw fjsjx like i wasnt expecting anyone to be interested but then u sent the ask and YAY KRKDJ #if anyone has any questions or comments or anythjng then um feel free to um hit me up with them YAYYYYY #okay to rb btw if you wanna express ur opinions in the tags #i like hearing other people's opinions on my rambles so feel free to do so if you wanna #thanks for the ask paigeee #paige! (literally riley)#ask me stuff #hmm i should make a tag for this #Izzy's rambles and shit #yea that

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crow-writes-stuff · 4 years ago

Text

Death Sentence

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dazai Osamu & Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), possible Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs) Characters: Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Mori Ougai (Bungou Stray Dogs) Additional Tags: Whumptober 2020, broken trust, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mori Ougai Being An Asshole (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakahara Chuuya Is So Done (Bungou Stray Dogs), Chuuya leaves the Port Mafia, Chuuya potentially joins the ADA, Caring Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), no one dies, just wanted to make that clear considering the title Series: Part 4 of Soukoku Whumptober 2020 Summary:

Chuuya receives his own death sentence in form of a mission. He goes to the only person he can think of.

Ao3

"Well done, Akutagawa." Chuuya always makes sure to congratulate the younger on a successful mission. Ever since Dazai has left, Akutagawa has been even more desperate to prove himself. Chuuya knows he can't replace Dazai in Akutagawa's mind. But that doesn't mean he can't show him a little kindness. He likes to think that both Akutagawa siblings have warmed up to him over the years. They even train with him from time to time.

Now though, in the company of others, Akutagawa brushes him off. Chuuya doesn't take it to heart. He heads to his office with a smile.

Despite Dazai being the one that recruited Akutagawa in the first place, Mori has an excellent grasp on him nowadays. Of course, the boss knows how to use all of the more prolific Port Mafia members to his advantage. It's a skill Chuuya has admired from day one.

The way to his office is uninterrupted. Chuuya enters and closes the door behind him. No one is going to bother him for a while. There is a little pile of neatly stacked paperwork on his desk. More interesting, however, is the envelope lying in the middle. A new mission?

Chuuya sits down and opens the envelope. He glances over it quickly. It is indeed a mission, directly signed by the boss as well. Chuuya reads the outlined mission. Then he rereads it. And again.

A loud crack rings through his office. Chuuya only now notices that he has been gripping onto the armrest of his chair. It has splintered apart. There is a ringing in his ears, and his head suddenly feels like it's enclosed by cotton. He has to blink to clear the fog from his eyes.

He reads the mission one last time. He checks the signature. There is no doubt that this was written by the boss himself.

This is his death sentence. Written like any regular mission. Use Corruption. Black on white.

For a long while, Chuuya does nothing but stare at the paper in his hand. Okay. He takes a deep breath. Okay. So this is how it is.

Chuuya puts the mission down on his desk. Then he takes a pen and some paper and starts writing. He writes three letters; one for Kouyou, one for the Akutagawa siblings and one for Hirotsu. Chuuya seals the letters and places them on his desk. He knows that Ane-san is going to check by his office in two hours. No one else should appear before then.

His phone rings. He takes a quick look at the caller id and picks up. "Yes, boss?" His voice is calm, but it sounds hollow to his ears. "Ah, Chuuya, I trust that you have received your newest mission?" Mori's voice sounds deceptively cheerful. "Yes, boss." "There will be no problems with it, I'm sure." Chuuya swallows silently. "Of course not." "Splendid! Enjoy the rest of your day then."

The line goes dead, but Chuuya keeps staring at the phone for a while longer. There wasn't a single hint of regret or doubt in Mori's voice. He believes that Chuuya's loyalty reaches deep enough for this mission. Under different circumstances, he might be flattered by this.

Chuuya takes one last look at the three letters. Then, he grabs the mission and heads out of his office.

He's glad not to encounter anyone that would want to strike up a conversation on his way out. He's not sure he could keep up appearances otherwise. With not an inconsiderable amount of regret, Chuuya decides against taking his car with him. Instead, he walks through the city.

It feels like only seconds have passed when he stops in front of his destination. Logically, he knows that can't be the case. But he can barely remember the path he took.

Without waiting any longer, he heads inside and up the stairs. When he stands in front of the last door, he hesitates for the first time. This is final. If he enters, there is no going back.

Chuuya opens the door.

He ignores the general alarm and outrage his appearance causes and heads straight for a particular desk. Dazai looks up, some smart-ass quip certainly on his lips when he stops short. Chuuya wordlessly hands him the mission letter. Usually, he would have taken pleasure in the fact that Dazai is actually affected by what he reads. His face turns pale, and he clearly reads the instructions twice. Chuuya can't bring himself to feel anything.

Finally, Dazai looks up at him again. "You want me to come with you?" "No." Dazai stands up, brows furrowed. "Chuuya, I'm not letting you walk into certain death. This is-" Chuuya cuts him off, raising his hand. "I want out."

Dazai's mouth falls open. Then, he starts smiling. "Okay."

Chuuya takes shuddering breath. It's like an overstretched spring suddenly releases inside him. All the emotions he hasn't allowed himself to feel suddenly wash over him. He blinks, unable to articulate his thoughts.

Dazai gently takes him by the elbow, and moments later, he finds himself in a separate room. Dazai is the only other person here. They sit down on a small couch, side by side. Chuuya leans forward and puts his face in his hands. Dazai thankfully keeps silent for him to gather his thoughts.

"I'm," Chuuya finally looks up, "so pissed off." Dazai laughs. "I'm not surprised by that." More sombre, he adds: "I'm angry on your behalf, and I already knew Mori was a piece of shit." Chuuya scoffs. "Just this morning I was thinking, that he has a good grasp on what we all need to do to help the Port Mafia. Looks like he's run out of uses for me." "Do you know who your targets would have been?" Chuuya hums. "They're an up and coming rival organisation. They've been encroaching on our territory for a while now. Their main quarters are far enough off, though, that the boss," he frowns, "that Mori thinks I can destroy the place without coming too close to Yokohama." "While killing yourself in the process." "Exactly."

They stay silent for a while. Dazai is the first to break the silence: "I think Mori miscalculated." Chuuya looks at him. "No shit. I'm not dying any time soon." "No, that's not what I mean. Mori probably thought that you'd tell me. But he believed your loyalty to the Port Mafia would outweigh his betrayal. And that I'd be forced to help you out, which would start to pull me back in." Chuuya frowns at him. "So, either way, I'm just a worthless pawn." Dazai puts a placating arm around his shoulders. Chuuya could shrug him off. He doesn't.

"Well, don't worry about it. I'm sure we'll find something worthwhile for you to do." "We?" Chuuya questions, looking at Dazai's suspiciously cheerful face. "Why, of course! Now, that you're no longer part of the Port Mafia, I'm sure the Armed Detective Agency won't have anything against you joining us."

Chuuya is on his feet immediately. "That", he seethes, "is not why I came here." Dazai shrugs him off with a smile. "But it is your best bet." "I'm not leaving one organisation, just to get used by another," he spits. "Not again."

Dazai lets his smile fall as he stands up as well. His posture is open, trying to appear non-threatening. Chuuya has to force himself not to back away.

"I can assure you that the Agency won't just let you stick around because you might be useful." Chuuya narrows his eyes at him. Liar. Dazai seems to realise his mistake immediately. "What I mean is, that no one is going to force you to do anything that you don't want to do. The Agency doesn't work like that." Chuuya only relaxes a smidgen. Dazai takes another step towards him. "Chuuya, I swear that I won't let anyone treat you like a pawn again."

Chuuya sighs. "Except for yourself, I presume?" Dazai shrugs. He puts his arms around Chuuya and pulls him into a hug. Chuuya lets him. "Possibly," Dazai hums and Chuuya finally relaxes. He feels like he's been drained of energy ever since he read that mission.

"You'll be fine," Dazai murmurs above him. "I won't let anything happen to you, partner." And for once, Chuuya really wants to believe him.

#whumptober2020 #no.12 #Broken Trust #Bungou Stray Dogs #fic #soukoku #bsd #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Text

Personal Demon (Indruck)

@pantstacular requested: 58 Is such my entire jam I’d pretty much die if you did it with Indruck. “I’m a demon, you’re a witch, we’re enemies but when I show up to kill you, you’re crying and I really don’t know what to do now.” SFW

A talented, young warlock will employ the most complex, innovative, and powerful wards on their home.

A seasoned warlock who was never that excited about all this in the first place will employ straightforward but deeply aggravating wards on their home.

Indrid’s nemesis is in that second category. His wards are never fancy, but they’re durable and reliable, an utter pain in his tail to break down. Some cannot be broken by spells at all, and even a demon of his skill could burn through all his power trying to destroy them.

Which is why Indrid simply pays a passing human twenty dollars to kick a gap in the salt barrier, grits his teeth passing through the Rowan trees while his skin feels like he’s getting a full-body tattoo, and uses an oven mitt to open the iron door knob (the door is lined with iron, so he cannot slip as a shadow beneath it), hissing in pain all the while.

“Duck Newton…” He lilts, certain the warlock will be terrified to hear his voice in his strong hold, “it is time to end things once and for all, dearest enemy.”

He keeps his eyes on the present, not wanting to spoil the fun for himself by peeking at the futures. He glides into the human’s bedroom, plants his feet on the floor, “your worthless soul is mine.”

“Ughhhh” a muffled sound, Indrid flicking on the lights to find the human face-down on his bed, “are you fuckin serious? Now?”

“Yes, Duck Newton, now” dark energy crackles in his fingertips.

Thwump

“Ack!” He shakes his head, Duck now sitting up, preparing to throw another pillow at him.

“Get out.” Duck glowers, voice flat.

“You dare to order me-”

Thwump

“Get!” Duck’s eyes are wet, red-rimmed, and Indrid notices he’s in sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt that’s damp in patches.

“Have you been crying?”

Thwump and his glasses are knocked askew.

“How many of those blasted things do you have?”

Two hovering pillows turn to four and all collide with him at once.

“Clearly you are, ow, in no mindset to, ow, duel me as I, ack, see fit. I shall return!”

He dissolves into shadow and speeds out the door, materializing on the sidewalk and paying a passerby ten dollars to fix the salt ring.

Not willing to let a plan go to waste, he repeats this process the next night. This time, Duck is laying in the darkened living room.

“Now, my greatest adversary, it is time to meet your end--why are you still crying?” He cocks his head as Duck magics the light on.

“Because I’m in my own fuckin’ house and can do whatever I want.”

“But you seem upset.”

“No fuckin shit, sherlock.” Duck raises a throw pillow and Indrid covers his face far faster than he’d ever admit in public.

“I merely mean that, ah, perhaps a duel would be a welcome change of pace?”

“I look like I’m in the headspace to duel to you?”

“Not at the moment, but that could change, yes? I do wish to destroy you, is that sufficient motivation to shake off this fog of misery that’s hanging about your soul like stale cologne?”

Duck groans, but straightens, reaching over the far arm of the couch. Indrid perks up, approaches at a safe distance, certain he will see a familiar sword or spell in a moment.

What he gets is misted with holy water.

He hisses, wiping his face in a hurry. His power is so great that the diluted mixture doesn’t harm him, but it’s as if someone is squirting him in the face with lemon juice.

“I banished you worse ways than this, demon, but I’m fuckin tired and you ain’t worth the goddamn energy and you don’t wanna end up straight back below. So get.” He raises the spray bottle, spritzes him again and Indrid backs away, spluttering and hissing.

“You, you think you can threaten me, shoo me out like OW some common ghost GAh that was in my nose that time fine, fine I am going.” He stumbles over the threshold, falling on his ass on the pavement as Duck slams the door.

Perhaps a new plan is in order.

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

“You wanna know Ducks’ what?” Aubrey taps her spoon on the edge of the potion she’s mixing.

“His favorite food. I wish to cheer him up. Unless of course, you wish to simply tell me what is troubling him.” Indrid grins at the witch.

“You know the rules, Cold; I don’t trade information between sides. And, like, even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you what’s going on with him. It’s...personal, okay?”

Indrid sighs. He expected that answer. Aubrey is the child of a witch of the light and a witch of the shadows, giving her a rare balance of powers. It also means entities of all moral alignments will come to her for aid. Her rules are simple; no fighting in her house and no getting her in the middle of major conflicts.

For all that, Indrid still has never told her his true name. She calls him ‘Cold,’ as everyone does.

“French Onion Soup. That’s his favorite thing, from the Wolfe Grill downtown.”

“He likes that coffee fudge too, the one Barclay makes” Dani, Aubrey’s wife, adds from her spot spinning fur off a massive angora rabbit.

Barclay is a kitchen witch, one with whom Indrid has a shaky truce (he egged on a fight in the restaurant, needing some quick points with the higher demons. It’s not his fault one of the humans knocked over a candle). He can probably manage to buy fudge without being scolded.

Duck’s added more fortifications since yesterday, and Indrid only needs a few moments anyway. He finds a sliver in a plane that lets him slip into Duck’s mirror, knowing the human is getting ready for bed.

The human senses him, looks up from the sink, toothbrush still in his mouth. He blinks once, to tired to even count as annoyance.

“ ‘wat ‘ow?”

“I have brought you food.” Indrid waits until Duck spits into the sink to pass the two bags out of the mirror.

“Why-”

“It will cheer you up. It is your favorite. Then you will have your fight back, and be ready to face me.”

Duck takes the bags, then several steps back, “y’know, most demons would see this is a chance to get me while I’m down.”

“Well” Indrid sniffs haughtily, “I am not most demons. Besides, what good is claiming your soul if it was like stepping on an ant?”

The warlock looks at the food, then at Indrid, “I ain’t gonna eat this.”

“Bu-wha-I got it specifically to please you!”

“And it could be poisoned or cursed or some shit.”

Indrid growls in frustration, “fine, wallow in your misery.” Then he’s out on the street again, ready to cause some evil. Or to go back to the bakery and drown his aggravation in a caramel eggnog latte.

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

Duck stares at the bags, still sitting on his kitchen counter. If he’s not going to bed any time soon, he should at least eat something. Not that though. Even if it’s his favorite. How the fuck did the demon know that?

Cold has never quite been like other demons Duck’s run across. When he’d yanked him out of Boyd (because Ned decided to read the inscription on a new artifact for the Cryptonomica), he hadn’t taken it personally, but proceeded to try and tempt Duck for two days solid with everything he could think of. Then he decided he liked Kepler and could do plenty of demonic work in it, which had Duck worried. The demon is powerful, he can feel it when they fight. But, while he still worries, Cold sticks to being a mid-level threat at best even if he keeps promising to destroy him.

God that soup smells good.

He picks up a piece of amethyst, runs it over and over the air around the bag. No trace of anything dangerous.

Fuck it.

Twenty minutes later his belly is full, he actually feels kinda sorta almost borderline happy, and he hasn’t turned into a frog or been transported to the underworld.

When Cold inevitably shows up again a few days later, Duck doesn’t even look up from the model ship he’s working on .

“Thanks for, uh, for dinner.”

“How did you know I was here?” The silver-haired man steps out of the hall, red eyes glowing behind redder glasses.

“I may not be able to sense auras or souls or shit, but you and I been dancin around each other for long enough that I can tell when the hair on my neck is standin up thanks to you.”

“Then you are prepared to fight?”

“No. Look, I dunno now how it is for demons, but takes more than nice food to make a fella get over somethin serious.”

“I see…” Cold looks around the room, “are you certain you are not interested in even a small bit of conflict?”

“Nope. Busy.”

“Well I am not!”

“Can’t you just go find another warlock to bother?””

“No! Well, yes, but I do not wish to. You are my adversary, the one I devote most of my time to tormenting.”

“That’s kinda an exaggeration. And it don’t change that I’m workin on this.” He points to the model, “so I’m just gonna ignore you until you leave.”

There’s a huff, followed by the fluttering of his mail as the demon knocks it onto the floor. He glances up and notices that Cold’s tail is now visible and twitching with agitation. When Duck does nothing else, he knocks the remaining mail on the ground.

“That ain’t changin my mind.”

A roll of glass on tile, Cold pushing a water glass towards the edge of the counter with his finger.

“Y’won’t like what happens if you do that.”

The glass tips over. As water spills onto the floor, Duck summons a towel with one hand and a dish of salt with the other. Before the demon can stop him, he draws a salt circle, trapping him in a small spot by the table.

“Erase that this instant.”

“Nope. You been poppin in and out the last two weeks and not leavin when I ask nicely, so now you’re gonna stay right here until I decide you can leave.”

The demon drops down onto the floor, arms crossed and tail thrashing, “I just do not see what is so severe it makes you uninterested in anything but work, sleep, and making ships that cannot go anywhere.”

“Don’t expect you to understand.”

“Yes, but you also will not tell me so how can you know if-” a future flickers into vision, “your romantic partner left you.”

“That’s cheatin’.”

“That is what has upset you so?”

“Yeah, because we were together for six fuckin years, and she watched me grow up since I was eighteen and was my mentor and it feels like a big constant in my life is just fuckin gone.” He leaves out the part where he'd felt it going for awhile, where part of him knew it needed to but the rest wanted things to stay as they were.

The demon cocks his head in that way of his, smirks but says nothing.

“Nevermind. You’re a demon, love ain’t somethin you got a concept of.” He stands, retrieving another bottle of adhesive from the too-empty living room.

As he picks up the next piece, Cold murmurs, “It is not so foreign a concept as you might think.”

Duck shoots him an incredulous look.

“I was a creature of the divine once, beings capable of great love, even if many of them do not utilize that capacity. Even if I was not supposed to in my role. But more than the memory of that feeling, I have moments in which I suspect I can feel it still.”

“Like when you see someone do somethin real wicked?”

The demon doesn’t rise to the paltry bait, “When I go sit in a park, or those woods you like, and draw and watch people coming and going in a thousand little moments of mundanity, I feel something more than mere tranquility. Sometimes I will go to movies or to concerts, to feel the swell of joy and excitement, and it almost seems as if I love those around me.”

It’s the last thing Duck expects him to say, and so all he can do is stare at him a moment before returning to his work. The demon, content with the silence, watches cross-legged. When Duck grabs a packet of cookies from the kitchen he pauses, then hands one to Cold.

The demon sniffs it, proceeds to nibble on the edge before making a delighted sound and shoving the whole thing in his mouth.

“You never had Girl Scout cookies before?”

“No. I do not need to eat, and often only do so when temptation requires it. Or when Barclay makes something with eggnog in it. Which is a pity; I really enjoy human food, you come up with such interesting things. Now it is my turn for a question. Why are you making those?”

Duck looks at the near-complete model, “I dunno. Helps me relax, nice to just be able to focus on one thing rather than worryin’ about work or warlock stuff or dyin’ alone or if you’re gonna randomly turn up in my goddamn bedroom without warnin’.”

“Knocking is not exactly demonic.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, the smile on his face oddly honest, that Duck cracks up. Giggles spill out of him as he rests his face in his hands. His elbows slip on the shiny tabletop, collapsing him forward, laughing loud enough to startle the cat from her hiding place.

“Yeah” he sniffs, finally sitting up while wiping away tears and still chuckling, “guess it ain’t.”

The demon is smiling again, softer than his usual grin that glints like a knife in the dark.

“Will you show me more of your ships?”

“You ain’t gettin outta that circle that easy.”

“I am aware. But you could bring them where I could see.” He seems genuinely excited at the idea.

Duck stands, hands him the packet of Thin Mints, “I could do that, yeah. Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

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

Duck picks up to the two reusable grocery bags, locking doors and throwing up extra wards behind him as he walks to his car.

He slides into the drivers seat, sets the bags in back behind him. Turns around and finds the passenger seat occupied.

“Venturing forth at last, I see.”

“I ventured forth plenty.”

“That was only for work. You have been the picture of a hermit since you were dumped, Duck Newton.” Cold adjusts his glasses in the rear-view mirror.

“Have not. And it was mutual.”

“Shall we get out of the car so I can destroy you?”

“We could do that. Or…” he points at the bags, the demon peering into them curiously, “we could take these two bags of snacks to a concert in the park.”

Cold bites his lip. Duck holds his breath, already gearing up his spells in case the demon says no.

A seatbelt clicks, “very well.”

They find a spot under some trees, far back from the crowd. Cold is in his human disguise, but Duck would rather not risk being seen if his tail or horns make an appearance. The concert is all movie soundtracks that Duck doesn’t pay attention to. He’s too busy watching the demon gleefully explore the food he brought (he chose the weirdest desserts and snacks he could find, wanting to give him a taste of things he’d never had) and talking with him about more or less everything.

As they’re getting into the car under the light of the half moon, Cold sighs happily, “we should do this again sometime.”

“Yeah, we could. Just uh, don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

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

Duck is up to his elbows in the pieces of an IKEA dresser when Cold’s voice comes through the mirror.

“I need to be let in right now please and thank you.”

He sounds pained, so Duck hurries out to the front yard and opens the circle, allowing the demon to pass through. He’s hunched at an odd angle, clutching at his back. Once they’re inside he strips off his coat, revealing a splinter at the base of his neck.

“Shit, what happened?”

“I materialized in the house of a well-prepared witch and was immediately backed into a Hawthorne bush. Lucky I am not a vampire, but gracious it stings.”

“Why come to me?” Duck is already guiding him to the couch.

“I thought you might be able to help. Also it is movie night.”

Duck examines the injury; it’s a small splinter, but the skin is already looking sickly.

“Should be an easy fix. Lemme get my tools and I can get to work.”

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

Indrid waits patiently for Duck to return, tries not to hiss at him too loudly when he pulls the splinter free. The human works quickly, and soon a tingling salve coats the sore spot.

Rather than pull away, Duck smooths his hands down Indrid’s back, “damn, you’re all knotted up.”

“I was trying not to move too much and aggravate it.”

Duck’s thumbs rub small circles along his back, “here, I can fix that real easy.”

Indrid foresees where his fingers will touch next and let’s his desire overtake his caution. When Ducks hands come down again, he whimpers and wiggles happily.

“Uhhhhh”

“It is my wings. In a way. They exist on another plane when not manifested here, and where you are touching is the place where it feels as you are stroking them.”

“That a good thing?”

“Yes, but you do not need to continue if you do not waAAhnnnt” he gasps as Duck slowly, steadily, runs his fingers over the spot again and again.

The human leans forward, giggling, and whispers in his ear, “you’re purrin’.”

“I am awarerrrrrrrr.” His tail and horns appear, seeming to understand there is no need to hide here. One of Duck’s hands skates up to his head, petting his hair and stroking his horns.

He whines, pushes his head into Duck’s hand for more.

“Is this-”

“No Duck Newton, it is not sexual. It can be, but at the moment it simply feels comforting and pleasurable.” He purrs louder as Duck rubs the base of one horn.

“That’s a good, uh, good demon? Bein’ so patient while I patch him up.” Duck coos.

“Yes.” Indrid whimpers.

“Lookit you, goin all mushy on me, so goddamn cute. Who knew you had it in you.”

“Duck.” Something is coiling through his veins, warm and ecstatic, as the human keeps up his stream of praise.

“Right here, demon of mine, just relax, lemme tend to you, there we go, you’re bein so good, such a charmin demon.”

Tears prick his eyes; he can’t, he can’t handle Duck speaking this way but speaking as if Indrid could be changed out for any one of his kind. He wants to know he means those words for him, he must, the feelings flooding him are incomplete without it and if they remain so he will wither away.

“Indrid, please, call me that.”

“Indrid.” It sounds joyous in that drawl as Duck adds a hint of pressure to his touches, “Indrid, you oughta stop gettin into trouble, oughta just stay here and put your head in my lap.” The human is getting carried away, the fantasies becoming more elaborate, interspersed with his name, until the name itself becomes the litany.

Indrid cries out, the energy in his veins enveloping him utterly for a moment, wings of absolute darkness flashing into view for an instant

He collapses forward, shaking, hoping the thanks pouring from his mouth are intelligible.

“You, uh, you doin’ okay--Oh FUCK!”

Indrid whirls, finds Duck staring at his arm. There are glowing markings on it, blue and black light fading into a facsimile of ink on his skin.

“What did you do?”

“What did I do? What makes you think this has anything to do with me?”

“Because this wasn’t there a minute ago! And you got one too!”

“I…” Indrid gapes at his forearm, where a matching symbol is setting in his skin. “Oh dear.”

“What?”

“It is, ah, well, it is a soul bond.”

“How in the everlovin’ fuck did that happen--wait, fuck, is Indrid your true name?”

“Yes.”

“Shit! I thought you gave me another false one, or I never woulda kept saying it. I ain’t that kind of warlock, I don’t want a personal demon.”

“I am not exactly thrilled either. I cannot return to the underworld, and for the first few days of the bond I will need to stay very close to you. All the same, that was rash of me and I am sorry.”

Duck rubs his forehead, takes a deep breath, “we’ll deal with it tomorrow. Right now, all I wanna do is sleep.”

“I as well. I suspect that took a lot of energy from both of us.”

The human stands, heading off towards the bedroom. As soon as he’s out of sight, pangs pulse through Indrid’s chest.

“Ah, Duck?”

A groan, “yeah, I feel it too. Get in here.”

Indrid hurries to the bed, finds Duck down to his boxers as he turns over the covers.

“I, ah, I can sleep on the floor, or get a blanket for that chair, or lay by your feet.”

Duck pats the bed, “sleepin next to you ain’t nothin’ compared to bein’ soul bonded. Bed feels too big anyway. And none of that by my feet talk; you’re my equal, not my fuckin pet, even if you are a pain in my ass sometimes.”

Indrid crawls in beside him, lays stiffly on his back as the lights go out. After so much contact, his body aches to touch Duck again.

A hand rests in the space between them, and Indrid takes it.

“Duck? I, ah, I am glad that if this had to happen to me, it was you who it happened with. I cannot think of another warlock I would actually enjoy being linked too.”

“Feelin’s mutual.” Duck squeezes his hand, voice gentle.

Indrid rolls to face him, and in the dark he can just make out the slight smile on the warlock’s face.

“Goodnight, Duck.”

A yawn, then, “sleep tight, Indrid.”

#indrid cold/duck newton #Indruck #duck x indrid #meet ugly #demon au

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xxunicorncaitxx · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter one- Childhood memories

This is going to be a fanfiction with many warnings which I will add at the beginning of each chapter. This will also be posted on my wattpad account!!

All the credits go to @sammie-cant-write

Ialsogottheirpermissionsoyoudonthavetoworryaboutthat-

—

Warnings: Abuse and Language

—

Race's pov-

Nov. 1, 1993-

My life all started on the first of November, the year of 1993. Everything seemed perfect and happy. I was a healthy kid, which was a good thing, of course, but that didn't seem to last long.

"Anthony"

My mother said, smiling down at her one and only child in her arms. She was so happy, but my father on the other hand? He wasn't happy at all.

Nov. 10, 1993-

My parents have been fighting for 8 days now. It somehow turned into a physical argument.. every... single.. time.

"That worthless piece of shit!"

"Useless!"

"Just as ugly as you are!"

"He'll do this world no good"

"He'll grow to be a useless nobody.."

And I guess he was right. Maybe I am a worthless and ugly nobody. Maybe I didn't do this world any good.

It wasn't too long after one of the worst fights where he decided to leave. And for good.

Dec. 24, 1996-

"Ma?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Is Pop coming home for Christmas dis year?"

Those words brought a strange look onto my mother's face. I was confused as to why she looked so upset. Did I do something wrong? All I wanted was answers.

"No, he's not.. maybe next year."

"But Ma-"

"Anthony, I don't want to talk about it. Go to bed."

I did what I was told. Laying down in bed, I covered myself with the blanket and just cried until I was finally able to fall asleep.

April 16, 1997-

My mother's wedding to my step-father. To this day, I still don't know where they met or why she chose him as a husband.

I stood there and watched them get married, smiling, thinking that everything was going to be fine after that. Of course, I was wrong. Wasn't I always wrong?

Bruised and beaten and tired. Was it ever going to end?

Every day was a fresh start of being tormented. New bruises and cuts all over my body. Guilt and regret filled me as I already wanted to end my suffering. I was only so young and I didn't know what I did to deserve this.

Soon I start school. Great right? I will have to go in on my first day looking like a complete mess. That smile will always be fake no matter what, and I will feel so bad for those who are my friends.. if I even make any that is. They'll have to put up with a friend who is fake and nobody likes fake people. That's what I was told anyway.

Jan. 3, 2000-

I felt completely numb. Doctors and nurses rushed in and out of the room. They did everything they could to save her. No matter what they tried or how many times they did, nothing worked. Hours upon hours of sitting there with a blank expression on my face, a doctor said "I'm sorry" as they proceeded to take off their gloves. I stared at them for the longest time, not knowing what to say. Angry and upset, I ran home, tears streaming down my face.

Dinner was different without Ma. It was complete silence half the time. I didn't want to eat but I did anyway so I didn't make my step-father upset.

"How was your mother?" He asked, putting some of the food in his mouth

"Fine, I guess..."

"You lyin'?"

I set the fork down slowly and stared right into his dark brown eyes. That was a way of saying 'yes'

"Are you serious? I thought I told you not to lie"

"Y-You did, sir..." (I called him 'sir' because why the fuck would I call him dad?)

"Then why are you?"

"I-I don't know.," I muttered.

"Tell me the truth boy. Go on"

"She... She's gone.."

"What do you mean by ‘She's gone’?!”

"SHE'S DEAD!" I raised my voice out of nowhere. Getting up, I try to walk away but I didn't get too far. He grabbed the back of my shirt and beat the shit outta me. As he did, the tears escaped from my eyes but I stayed silent, scared, and hopeless.

Jan. 4, 2000-

After yesterday, I finally got the chance to call for help. I was done being hurt by this man both physically and mentally. Soon, I'll feel safe and will be taken to a better place.

Jan. 15, 2000-

Brooklyn, New York. That's where I ended up. I moved schools and I got to say... I love it here! I made a friend by the name of Spot Conlon. He was pretty chill and had such a good reputation, which I admired so much. Every day, we'd go out and get some ice cream, feed the ducks, sit at the docks, swim; and for once in my life, I felt happy.

Jan. 18, 2000-

Today was the day of my mother's funeral. I put on nice clothes and went back to Manhattan with some older kid. No idea who he was but he was pretty friendly.

Standing there listening to what everyone had to say struck me. She didn't deserve the pain and all I could think of was that it was my fault. Maybe if I were a better son, she would still be here. This was going to be the last time I was going to see her so I said goodbye and apologized before heading back across the bridge to Brooklyn.

They wouldn't let me see her get buried. However, they gave me the location of the burial site.

May 29, 2001-

It's been a year since my mother has passed and a few weeks since my step-father's death as well. My biological father was long gone so they just considered me as an orphan. Packing up my things, Spot stood at the doorway with a small smirk on his face.

"You sure you want to go back to 'hattan?”

"Of course.."

"Well, where are you going to go? You got nobody"

"I'll find a place to stay. I'll get myself a job and I'll be fine"

"Anthony, you make it sound so simple when really, it's not. You can't just go back, ask someone for a job, and expect yourself to get accepted right on the spot. It'll take some time-"

"Just stop.. Please..."

"I'm just saying. You can't just-"

"I SAID STOP! Just leave me alone, OKAY?"

Rage filled my body as Spot went silent. He glared then walked off. There was no way he'd be my friend now!

I grabbed my belongings and left that evening without saying goodbye to anyone. Not even Spot.

June 5, 2001-

I got a job and met the love of my life: Albert DaSilva. He was perfect! I know I was still pretty young to get these feelings but... I couldn't help but love him.

March 31, 2006-

I got a hold of cigars and started gambling. Probably another good choice I've made. The cigars calmed me down, and ever since I got one, I haven't snapped at anyone or got so anxious. I earned some cash while gambling too which was amazing.

November 1, 2007-

After a few years of talking, Albert asked me to be his boyfriend; and on my birthday!! I accepted, of course, and realized that he was the only one who actually cared about me! Hopefully, it lasts.

The racetracks closed for the winter and I was quite bummed out, although I'll definitely go next year!

November 8, 2007-

I received the nickname "Racetrack" from the other boys who work with me. They said they'll call me "Race" instead because I loved watching the horse races. Ever since the track closed for the rest of the year, I wouldn't stop bothering them about it so here I am with "Racetrack" as a nickname

December 25th, 2007-

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

There was music, drinks, food, and presents everywhere. Us orphans stayed at a home in Manhattan and there weren't many of us so it was easier to get things done (if that makes sense.)

Albert got me a present that even I can't afford. A promise ring? I looked at him, letting a small smile take over. Not knowing what to say, I put it on and held his hand. This was one of the best days of my life! I couldn't be more grateful than this...

So I stared into his eyes and finally said

“I love you”

#newsies #fanfiction #ralbert #angst

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mourningsexxx · 4 years ago

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Like twenty yrs later

lately, the idea of tumblr has been, for me, synonymous with cringey, performative woke posts I see being mocked on other social media platforms. It's so indicative of where I was in life that I felt screaming into the anime cum 90s aesthetic void was an appropriate place to air my grievances about myself. That negativity about myself was my shtick is a painful reminder: thinking I was beneath others and beyond redemption was basically my kink. I would grovel at the feet of the people who sang to my illness: like I really was this piece of shit, a chorus of people and lovers singing that music into me over and over again. Writing this is a full circle moment for me. I reset my password to take everything on here down, because I couldn't bear to read it and relieve the sick and stagnant energies I let into my life, that I basked in, and that I thought was tenderness. That I felt grateful for 🤦🏻‍♀️

Instead I find myself writing this as a way to almost right a wrong, to add a bit of balance and sanity to my page. I'll leave this up, for now, as a sort of time capsule that is visible to myself and a handful of strangers. I want to reach behind these old shitty, edgy posts and just hug myself. I remember showing this page to my late partner when I was in early recovery. I guess I had forgotten what I had written and what I had lived. He read a few posts and seemed almost sad when he asked me if this was how I truly felt. I nodded vigorously, still not remembering/realizing (and still so early in my recovery that I had so many sick mindsets and beliefs left over) how fucked up it all was. It is true, what they say, about how we accept the love we think we deserve. Childhood abuse, trauma and mental illness led me to believe I deserved absolutely nothing; needless to say the "love" I accepted for nearly 27 years is something that still really saddens me.

I've been heroin free for six years. After constant and current hard work and therapy Ive finally stopped calling myself stupid or worthless or a fucking ugly loser any time I drop something. As the semesters go by in nursing school, my confidence grows and I'm reminded of what an intelligent, witty and kind soul I am. I know my worth. It's a slow process but I'm healing, growing, healing, growing. Maybe these words will speak to someone and inspire them to want better or to at least know it's possible.

TLDR 1. Recovery from heroin addiction is possible 2. Your trauma is not your fault, stop accepting partners and friends that reinforce those sick beliefs 3. We weren't born to loathe ourselves and hurt ourselves. You deserve love and respect. 4. Self care is important 5. I think I'm officially too old to be on tumblr

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ziracona · 5 years ago

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How many people were tested just for others anyway? Gordon's wife and daughter, Daniel (the wiki says it was also for shoplifting but he was 16 so I call bs), literally everyone except Lynn and her husband in Saw III, and my memory past 3 is fuzzy but that one lying author's wife comes straight to mind. They weren't being tested for whatever John pretended his survival of the fittest policy was they were terrorized tortured and/or killed for basically nothing but the pain of the target.

Anon you’re so valid TuT

ITS TRUE AND WE SHOULD ALL SAY IT!!! Also, I wrote this little part last, bc I just wanted to give fair warning that I went blind into a rage and wrote threethousand words about how much I hate John Kramer, full of very terrible language and spoilers for Saw 1-6, because I go that fucking feral at the sound of his name, and I can’t make everyone scroll past that so I’m putting most of it under the cut, but even if you decide you justifiably fear that rant and don’t read it, just know you are incredibly valid, and John can eat shit and die. Rant start:

John did that bullshit constantly! He would over and over put 1 (one) man he personally wanted to watch suffer on trial and sacrifice /scores/ of people for no reason. No trap, no way to escape, at someone else’s mercy completely or maybe with 0 chance even there bc JOHN KRAMER IS A SACK OF SHIT.

He kills a house full of drug addicts in two, mostly just bc his wife worked w drug addicts and John hates drug addicts, and even though Amanda was in their literal exact same position she does jack shit to stop him and just watches people slowly have their organs deteriorate and start coughing up blood around her!! Including fucking Daniel! Who got an antidote but like, at the 11th hour. Do y’all even understand how biology works John and CO??? If you neutralize a poison after it has deteriorated parts of organs it might save your life but itS NOT A FUCKING HEALTH POTION. Poor Daniel Matthews probably will only live to be like forty tops if he’s super lucky because of that. And he did NOTHING!!! He had shoplifted bc he was going through a teen phase but he’s like sixteen! Everyone was dumb as shit as a teenager, and most people shoplift at some point in their life! It does not earn you slow deterioration of your organs! Poor kid not only watched a man burned to death in an oven, dude have his brains blown out, girl die of prolonged organ failure, and more shit, he himself /killed/ a man as a sixteen year old child to save Amanda Young because he’s got a good heart and is a good person, and that shit is awful! It’s traumatic to kill someone at any age, but as a teenager? And then he got knocked out by her and thrown in a tiny locked safe, tied up and gagged, and kept alive by an oxygen tank in an enclosed space after that massive trauma for or AT LEAST 24 HOURS ! He did NOTHING. It was all just a long-con sacrifice to get Eric Matthews to a specific location. Eric did some real shit, but god, even after everything Daniel did for Amanda and all John’s talk of innocents, neither of them ever even tell Eric he lived! Amanda just locks him up, fights, beats him to she thinks death, and then John keeps him locked up and isolated in a cell for months, only to make him choke himself slowly in a test he doesn’t actually get to participate in to keep a friend from being electrocuted. It’s all kinds of fucked.

Even Jeff did nothing worse than be depressed and obsessive and unavailable to his kid, all Lynn did was have a boyfriend after she and he separated (and tbh the only reason John took her was bc he wanted a doctor and hated her for being one of the docs who told him he had cancer bc John is a pettyass hypocritical stupid sack of shit!) I’m VIBRATING with hatred. Lynn was just a pawn in Amanda’s test! It never mattered if she kept John alive! It only mattered if Amanda decided to fucking shoot her!!! She did her task and died and JOHN KNEW THERE WAS A HIGH PROBABILITY AMANDA WOULD KILL HER AND DID NOTHING TO STOP IT BC JOHN CARES ABOUT NO ONE BUT HIMSELF THE FUCKING WORTHLESS LITTLE WORM.

And the other victims in 3 are a poor college student who ran over someone on accident and feels massive guilt already and served jail time for it who gets his fucking limbs and then head all twisted off while begging for his life because JOHN KRAMER IS A PIECE OF SHIT AND SO IS JEFF TBH. BUT NOT AS BIG OF ONE. The poor girl who is stung up naked in a freezer and sprayed repeatedly with water till she is encased in ice and dead literally just saw the hit and run and ran away bc she was scared!!! Not to mention Jeff’s other kid who gets kidnapped and locked up as collateral! Even if she’s not hurt that’s FUCKING TRAUMATIZING FOR A YOUNG CHILD. And Allison Kerry did nothing wrong! Amanda kills her in the Angel trap literally just bc she’s investigating them! When he targets a detective John’s always like “Ho ho he, I am putting you on trial bc you are obsessed with your work” LIKE, BITCH NO SHE FUCKIN AINT SHE DOIN HER GODDAMN JOB AND U DON”T WANT TO GET CAUGHT YOU STUPID FUCKING WHORE I FUCKING HATE YOU SO MUCH THAT JUST LOOKING AT YOUR FACE CAUSES ME TO PRODUCE SO MUCH EXCESS EPINEPHRINE I COULD BOTTLE IT AND SAVE IT FOR LATER. I swear to god, if I had a grenade and I was in the room trapped with a still breathing John Kramer, I would kill pull the pin and take us both! FUCK I would pull the pin and then french kiss the grenade as thanks for letting me see that sack of shit go right to hell!

I don’t remember all of four bc it was really terrible, so I don’t have a lot of thoughts there except woof, but there was a lot of bullshit. Like John’s lawyer who did nothing but try to talk to him about finances enough it pissed John off got kidnapped, won his first game, and then got kidnapped again BC THAT SHIT HEAD SURE NEVER KEEPS EVEN HIS OWN GODDAMNED WORD and was made pawn in the game and then shot bc he didn’t have a chance to save himsefl!!!

In Saw one, also, again, Adam was never being tested. He was just a pawn too. It was Gordon who got to decide to kill him or not, and ADAM LIVED TO SIX OR WHENEVER THE FUCK THE TIME WAS AND JOHN STILL LEFT HIM TO DIE BECAUSE HE”S A HYPOCRITICAL PIECE OF SHIT!!!! And he’s not interesting enough for Johns MASSIVE brainshlong that obviously is so full of right ideas and enlightenment you MICROPENISEDtrulyIDIOTIC self-centered human garbage! He only took Adam at all bc he was there! He said the reason was Adam was pathetic! ADAM WAS DOING HIS BEST YOU CRUSTY ASS RED ROBED TURTLE LOOKIN MOTHERFUCKER. He was a freelance photographer in New Jersey in his early 20s during an economic collapse, and still nice enough to be taking care of stray cats you FUCKING sack of dogshit!

And Gordon? All he did was tell John he had cancer! He was cheating on his wife too, but like, the reason John picked him was that!!! HE THOUGHT!! GORDON SOUNDED TOO COLD WHEN HE TOLD HIM HE HAD CANCER I FUCKING HATE JOHN KRAMER SO MUCH. John Kramer really will see someone smile not as big a smile as he thought they should have given him and be like: “Yo, is anyone going to corkscrew their eyeballs off?” and not even wait for an answer. I fuuuuukning hate him. And that little shitface thought it was somehow chill to order someone else to kill Gordon’s wife and eight year old child who had done JACK SHIT wrong ever if Gordon wasn’t willing to brutally murder a kid in his early 20s who had done nothing wrong????! WHAT THE FUCK. Mr. KRamer.. QUICK QUESTION. WHAT. THE. FUCK. You self-righteous, self-centered, pretentious, pettyass, sadistic motherfucking goddamn worthless excuse for anything!

In five he’s finally dead so I can : ) once. BUT HE STILL FUCKS UP SHIT FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE. SO I’m STILL MAD. All the people Hoffman kills are ppl John told him to, so HE STILL MOTHERFUKIN RESPONSIBLE. In 5 it’s a bunch of people responsible kind of for deaths of people in a low-income neighborhood. One guy was paid to torch an abandoned building, and eight people died in the fire, but he didn’t know anyone was there and feels terrible. He thought it was vacant, it was just arson. Another is a journalist who found out about the arson, and didn’t break the story bc guy 1’s father bribed him. There’s a fire inspector who learned the truth and was bribed by the guy’s dad not to tell too. A city planner who was bribed into selling permits for the land. And Brit, who was the girl who paid for the arson, bc she wanted to make an apartment complex, and maybe actually knew about the 8 people and might have deserved some real payback–it’s unclear???? Regardless. I want to add that the cops had been investigating, had a strong case, and were about to arrest them and hold these people accountable in a legal manner, which John knew bc HOFFMAN WAS IN HIS POCKET, and John so hated the idea of them facing justice justice, he kidnapped them. The fire inspector got dragged into saw blades by her throat and torn apart, the journalist died to a nail bomb, and the city planner got electrocuted in a bathtub. The two who made it had their arms split down the middle up to the elbow to let enough blood out to save them. I cannot. Just.

Anyway. In six, again at DEAD JOHN WHO WON”T QUIT FUCKING EVERYTHING UP’s request, a ‘game’ is played and William Easton (one of my fave protagonists bc he’s a piece of shit but damn if he didn’t have a real glow up in forty-five minutes) is thrown into a hell circuit.

And so, undeservingly, is like, EVERYONE he fucking knows! His janitor Hank is first up. Target for…what was it? OHhhhhh right. He smokes. That was why. That makes so much sense john I’m sorry I doubted you PSYCH I CAN"T EVEN SAY IT AS A JOKE I JUST THREW UP A LITTLE IN MY MOUTH JOHN QUICK Q? WHAT THE FUCK? oh wait it’s because your an ABSOLUTE BASTARD. You would think I would get desensitized but no. It just. It’s fuel on the flame of my rage.

William Easton and the janitor, Hank, are hooked into something that slowly tightens and crushes their ribs any time they take a breath, and whoever doesn’t die first gets to live, and poor goddamn Hank smoked so ofc he can’t outlast a healthy dude in his 30s and John crushes his ribs just to make William watch someone die. Then he makes William pick which of two people to save in trial 2. MEANING HE GODDAMN STRAIGHT UP KIDNAPPED THESE TWO TOTALLY FINE WITH EITHER DYING, IN FACT WITH THE SOUL PURPOSE BEING TO DIE bc who cares about them right John? You fucking pretentious self-righteous creep! I have a year of the Pig teddy bear I named after Peter Strahm JUST for the FUCKING satisfaction of knowing John would hate that bc he was so into year of the motherfucking pig. ANyway. Plot again. Poor file clerk at Williams firm and the poor secretary are the two targets, and literally they did jack shit!!! They work for shitty lawyers but all they do is clock in to a 9-5 and file shit!! They are literally just there to rub it in William’s face that insurance policies aren’t fair bc according to them, one of the humans is worth more than the other bc health and age, but uuuuh oohhh William the older one with health issues is p hard to kill face to face bc you know her and she has kids and the young healthy man in his early 20s family is dead and he doesn’t have friends which means according to John he is worth less bc JOHN DOES THINK YOU CAN CHOOSE BETWEEN LIVES and all of this is here just bc John somehow thought it would be fun to fucking WIN A GODDAMN “I’M RIGHT” ARGUMENT WITH A LAWYER at the expense of brutally hanging a human being with barbed wire!!!

Sidebar–if John Kramer was a real human being, I would go yearly on a fucking pilgrimage to his grave just to SPIT on his stupid corpse. I HATE HIM SO MUCH.

K so young man dies. Then test 3 his attorney dies too, I don’t know much about her, except she is just there to make William feel like shit and they were into each other, and she tries to kill William after he gets hurt trying to save her bc he has the key to her trap in his stomach or chest idr, but she doesn’t get the key in time and dies, and then test 4 he finds his associates strapped to a carousel with a shotgun that picks one at random and blows off their head, and has to let all but two of them get gunned down and choose which two not to kill. And again, they’re kind of shittyass lawyers, but uh. Yeah. To save two, he has to let this huge piece of metal rip through his hand, but William does it and destroys his hand to save the two he can, and suffers picking while they all beg him to pick them bc John wanted to see him suffer picking between human lives again because he’s a goddam self-centered stuck up jerk who vales human life less then admiring his ugly ass dick in the mirror every day and pretending he’s a member of Mensa, the evil utterly irredeemable sack of shit. Anyway, at the end, William has never had a chance to live or die at all! And John was literally just torturing him for fun and killed /all/ those people not even for a test for William but /solely/ to make him suffer bc human lives DON"T MATTER ONE FUCKING IOTA to JOHN SHITASS KRAMER. WHO JUST WANTED TO WIN. AN INTELLECTUAL ARGUMENT. POST-MORTEM. BECAUSE he’s THAT kind of shittyass, pretentious, sanctimonious, better than thou, always right, incapable of wrong, smartest fucking asshole in the room man!!! I bet he doesn’t ever wash his hands when he takes a piss! I KNOW IT! FUCK John Kramer!

ANd OH! William gets killed by a kid who hates him bc he turned down their father’s insurance policy fraudulently, knowing he would die of an illness without the money. BC William was terrible. Which is /so/ great for that fucking teenager! Killing someone horribly with acid while you watch them die and their body be melted! And they beg you not to do it and apologize on the other side of bars, already beat to shit, and plead for forgiveness, and your mom begs you not to, and the dude’s sister sobs and begs you not to!!! SO GOOD! Way to go john you FUCKING CUNT, they definitely value their lives now you goddamn motherfucking souless sack of shit!

I-I don’t even have the energy to do the other Saw movies or go back over the other victims in Saw one WHO DID NOTHING WRONG. John just hated them!!! BC HIS WIFE KNEW THEM! In most cases! John just fucking hates drug addicts! OK u know what here’s the short version even if I can’t do them justice rn bc I’m pissed!!! One guy got sliced to death on razor wire for cutting when he was depressed bc John is a piece of shit, one got burned to death after walking on glass for hours bc John doesn’t believe in invisible illnesses and if you’re walking you must be healthy, oh yeah! And the fucking dude Amanda killed in her first trial was just a drug addict! Going to a recovery clinic! He never had a chance to live on his own bc the only choice was if Amanda would cut open his intestines and sift through him for a key while he was awake but too drugged to move or not, and she did! Didn’t even get to plead for his life! ANyway!!!! Fucking as far as I can tell all Zep did was work at the goddamn hospital! He WENT OUT OF HIS WAY TO BE NICE TO JOHN and told other people he was a cool dude!!! He was just a janitor!!! WHAT THE FUCK???

I just. God. I hate everything about John Kramer. The way he talks makes me so LIVID I change color like a goddamned chameleon. He is so ready to argue his stupid shitty fucking ethics with anyone who breathes in a ten mile radius. Shithead John over here will strap you to a table and make you listen to him talk about how it’s not his fault he poisoned two people and gave them one antidote and a bunch of knives and one of them came out dead, and his hands are clean and people don’t value their lives so they should die while he watches eating fucking cereal I am just–I am so glad John has cancer? Like, the idea of Saw sans John having cancer is unbearable, because I am so afraid the writers would never let him die and we would never be free of the human cancer that is John. The only human being on the planet that has ever been able to make me root for the cancer. But boy in that one and only regard, John is special.

I hate him so much it is unbelievable. Like. I can’t even put it into words. THe pure, unbridled fury I feel when I hear John say, “D’oh ho ho, but I, with these two little handies of mine, hath never pulled the gun’s trigger! Got you there! Where is your science! Where is your god! I am no murderer! I heal people! By sawing off their faces! You just do not understand, oh poor unenlightened human that you are. May you be strapped to a machete car and blessed with my wisdom 😔” I absolutely lose control of 90% of normal human functionality, and all that I have left is righteous justice and bloodlust. It’s unbelievable.

Whichever one of you god-mode-brain peeps made that post saying Eric Matthews had the hardest test in the whole Saw franchise because he had to sit and listen to John Kramer talk for two hours was a GODDAMNED HERO and if you contact me and prove the tumblr account is yours I will paypal you ten dollars and a personalized note thanking you for the joy that gave me because I just really hate John Kramer that FUCKING MUCH. I would cut off my own toes to be able to have something to shove down John Kramer’s throat to make him stop. talking.

There are a lot of things in this world I hate bc I hate things that are unjust, but I hate absolutely nothing more in the universe than a villain who is a self-righteous, hypocritical asshole who won’t even admit that what they are doing is wrong and parades as the tragic genius hero despite knowing GODDAMN well that they are a petty, shitty, hypocritical, absolute fucking MONSTER with no redeemable qualities or capacity for love. And John Kramer is at least my second least favorite character in the history of ANYTHING. Maybe my first. I’m not even sure anymore! Nasty-ass, evil, pretentious, self-righteous, shortsighted, selfish, sadistic, voyeuristic, willfully ignorant, crusty ass useless soulless garbage little SHIT.

#ask #anonymous #John Kramer #Jigsaw #long post #Saw #Saw II #Saw III #Saw IV #Saw V #Saw VI

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