#i'm so tired. i hate crying at night. i'm going to have more nightmares. if this shit happened at a different time it wouldn't be such

[fantabulisticity]

I was really pumped to go to a local concert that I thought was tomorrow, where a really good band is playing, and I found out AT THE TIME THE CONCERT STARTED that it's tonight and not tomorrow. I looked through concert tickets and shit and tried to find the length of the concert and band order for way too long and then finally decided to go and by the time I was ready, it was 45 minutes past start time and I would still have to drive across town and find parking. And not a single place online told me the band order. I HATE that shit. Idk where everyone finds that info bc i can fucking NEVER find it. So I didn't even know if I could still see them or not if I showed up late, and then it was so late that it's not even worth going. And the concert goes SUPER late and I work at 7 am and the tickets are $50 and I don't really have that right now. I am so sad and angry. I thought they were the headliner and I'd get to see them tomorrow. But I don't get to see them at all bc I've been so fucking busy and tired all the time that I didn't have the bandwidth to look for tickets until tonight. So now I'm going to bed without a shower even though I'm STICKY bc I spent the last HOUR trying to decide whether or not to try to go to this concert. I fucking HATE this shit. If I could have found this info earlier and more easily then I could have made it. But no. I don't get to go at all. And I don't know if this band will ever be in town again. I've seen them once and they were AMAZING, but that was years ago, and I was excited to see them as an adult. I had fucking PLANNED for this concert but my plans were wrong. And now I don't get to go at all. Bc this internationally recognized band is playing on a fucking THURSDAY NIGHT. Why the FUCK would I know they were put on a THURSDAY. And the websites are so impossible to navigate anyways, esp on Mobile. It is SO HARD to find the most basic info about this shit. And now I don't even get to go. Because it took me half an hour to find the info I needed in order to even make a decision, and that half hour started AT CONCERT START TIME. I'm so fucking sad and angry. I have had kind of a rough week, and I was really looking forward to this. The concert tomorrow doesn't have ANYONE I recognize bc I only know older musicians in this genre and I have NO IDEA who any of these people are. So I don't know if I even want to go to the one tomorrow. Because the one I wanted to go to was TONIGHT. A fucking THURSDAY. And I can't even just get my shit together and go anyways bc the concert will be halfway over and my bedtime is right fucking now. I'm so fucking sad. This event happens once per year and it changed dates a few years ago so I never fucking know when it is anymore, and now in the year when I DO know when it is and have a job where I can conceivably afford to go, and I fucking PUT IT IN MY CALENDAR AND TRIED TO BUY TICKETS, I actually can't go. The rug wasn't even pulled out from under me, I was trying to run over it and tripped on it and landed face-first on the ground. What the FUCK.

[devoutekuna]

An obsessive baby

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

A/N- Because I watch ultraman: rising <3

Sukuna-

Despite how many times he says he hates children, people alone. He'd never actually hated her, she was so clingy towards him, making it clear who she preferred out for you two. Leaving the house to get some food, left his daughter alone with you for only a few hours, yet they would be a nightmare, refusing to eat. Crying every second without a picture of her father or a comfort toy. "Daddy!" Running up to him with tears into her eyes, hands gripping onto his clothes in the hopes he'd hold her. "She missed you all day Ryo'" motioning towards your baby girl. "I can tell" picking up the girl to stop her cries, normally he wasn't the type to comfort someone, but when it came to his daughter, he'd do it anyday.

Nanami-

"Please don't leave me daddy" watching the man as he put on his shoes, she had hidden his tie in hopes that her father wouldn't go to work so that he could play with her, but he was always prepared, having an extra all the time. "I've got work sweetheart." Tying up his shoelace. "But you said you'd play with me!" The duo had been up all night playing with her ducks, he was exhausted and wanted to head back to sleep, yet he had work. "We played at breakfast". Stomping her feet on the ground. "How about you go play with mummy?" Pointing towards you in the kitchen, fortunately she looked away giving him the time to escape through the front door.

Geto-

Suguru's daughter adores her father more than anything, despite carrying her for 9 months, she pained no mind to you, always rushing towards her father whenever he was in eyeshot. Pools filling in her eyes as your husband walked towards the kitchen. He had just been with the little girl for the past 45 minutes, he was tired and wanted something to eat, yet his daughter was crawling towards him, desperately trying to grasp onto him. "I'm not far baby" kissing her forehead as she held onto him, trying to get herself into the midst of his layered clothes. "Can you hold her babe?" Pushing the girl off him and towards you. "She'll keep on crying Suguru" picking the baby up only for her to cry even more.

Gojo-

"Another game!" Hitting the man with the wooden baseball bat. "Another game!" Repeating the same two words towards his father, somehow he had exhausted his father with playing baseball, despite him only throwing the ball. "I've got to go do something!" Running Infront of the man. "No, come play with me!" He was about as stubborn and rebellious as him. "I've got work" he was Satoru Gojo for goodness sake, he could skip anyday of work. "You promised!" Hitting the man with the bat, unfortunately he was caught off guard and couldn't activate his infinity in time, hitting his slender legs, bound to cause a bruise. "Stay!" Holding onto the man's leg.

Toji-

Toji slept anywhere, he preferred sleeping on the rug despite the bed or sofa being right there. Somehow he found out that his daughter's rug would be the best to sleep on, resulting in the man in her bedroom, practically taking up the full floor, fortunately his daughter didn't mind, joining the man on the floor as she laid ontop of him, in the hopes to get into his embrace since he was too big to walk around. "No!" Kicking and screaming as you tried to pick her up to give her some space. Kicking the man. "Get up Toji" he was a light sleeper fortunately so he woke up almost immediately. "Put me down" "no because you should be in bed, not trying to sit on your father." Kissing your teeth at both of them, kicking the ,and again. "Ow! I'm up lady" rolling over to face you. "Daddy!" Pushing out of your embrace to get into her father's.

[libraryraccoon]

Leaving NRC hc

Okay, so, we all know that Yuu/MC have to fight, like, one time by month against Overblot of people.

And you can't tell me this haven't traumatized him.

And what if the MC is tired of that ? Overblot ? Being traumatized ? Crowley ? What if he leave ?

This is how i think Ace, Deuce, and Riddle will react if the MC leave without a word.

!!Male reader, he/him pronouns are used, headcanon, MC is Grim father figure (like in the canon)!!

MC was tired.

Not the "i'm tired, I need to sleep." But the "I'm tired I need to die."

He had traveled to another world, a world unknown to him. And no one told him what this world was, what it was like, he had to learn everything with the hard way.

And he hate this.

Hate that they didn't see that he's hurt.

Hate that he look his best even when he's not.

He hate that they all make attention at what he look like and not how he is mentally.

Hate having to live the overblot, only for some little problems.

They were traumatized, okay, but was it really a reason for traumatized him back ?!

Fuck ! He had all the reasons to overblot, to have a revenge, but he don't do it !

Twisted Wonderland was one of the worst thing that had happen to him.

Nobody give a fuck about what he live. And Crowley don't try to make him back home.

He was just tired.

Sometimes, MC was thinking about just.. leave.

Leave that place, or even leave that live. Not by killing himself, well, not always, but by making a new identity.

If Crowley don't help to find a way for his home, then MC will have to do his research.

And like that, MC and Grim (MC didn't want to abandon his child, he's a good father) had leave NRC without saying a word to anyone.

🂱𝔸𝕔𝕖 𝕋𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕝𝕒🂱

•What ? You just disapear without a word ?!

•He thought you were kidnapped until the black mirror said no, you just decided to leave.

•He tried to find out where the black mirror had sent you, but the black mirror didn't respond. He threatened to break it but it came to nothing.

•He's in the denial.

•Every morning, he go to Ramshakle, wishing to see you in here, but nothing. It's the same in class.

•He would try to find you, but he don't find you, so after he cry for the rest of the night.

•He become more silent and stop smiling.

•Riddle stop screaming at him, and stop with the "Off your head".

•Trey try to make him feel better, but it don't work.

•He's always angry when people say things like "I'm sure MC is dead" and when he saw Crowley.

•He had slap Crowley one day, two days after you left (you can't tell me otherwise).

•Grim and you left, leaving a hole in his heart.

☃︎𝔻𝕖𝕦𝕔𝕖 𝕊𝕡𝕒𝕕𝕖☃︎

•You left him ?

•No, he's dreaming, it's a nightmare, it's not possible.

•Denial #2

•He pray every night that you will come back.

•He hope to see you two in class a morning, and saying "All of that was a prank ! Got you !"

•Grim also left, and he was sad to see two of his friends leaving him without a word.

•Wasn't he good enough ?

•Tell him what's wrong with him, he would change it !

•He would do all if it mean you and Grim will come back.

•Even killing himself.

𖣔ℝ𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕝𝕖 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤𖣔

•Why ?

•He only want go know why.

•He know he wasn't a good person when you first meet, he know it.

•An Overblot wasn't the best thing for a meeting.

•But, you say it was okay ! You forgive him ! You even became friend with him after ! Was it all a lie ? Were you friend with him cause you were scare of what would happen if you say no ?

•Oh no ! Riddle is blaming himself now.

•He stay in his room, he don't want to leave it and hurt someone else.

•He stop all the "Off your head !"

•His dorm, especially Trey and Cater, are worry for him.

•His dorm search you, they want they're strict dorm leader, not the sad one !

Okay, It was short, but I it was a try.

[star--anon]

a Minho who's not healed from WCKD

not in the fun, angsty way

in the way that he watches and learns and pretends to be healed

always a soldier. Ever calculating

Paradise's best psychologist works day and night with him to get him to say a single word

well, the less he talks, the more those idiot doctors chatter

and the more he understands the role he's meant to play

"We're chalking it up to stress."

"He's been done a number on by WCKD."

"Look at the burns on his back."

"Minho? It's me, Thomas. It's okay. You're safe now. I promise."

"A7. I am your assigned psychologist. You have been released from WCKD facility. You have returned to your civilian life, and I'm happy to return your name to you."

So he plays along and pretends to be confused

eats his pudding like a good patient and sometimes he pretends to go berserk and try stabbing his eyes out with the spoon

sometimes that scared little boy inside him tries to succeed. Thinks it'd be easier that way

he's gotten very good at beating him down

"I... I don't remember anything," he whispers. He chews his lower lip like he's trying to stop it from trembling

When Thomas keeps making visits to him, he goes quiet again

there's something too nervous, too worried, too caring about the boy to be normal.

Minho stays quiet and tries to pick up what Thomas wants him to act like

his abrupt return to silence worries the doctors, who immediately cut meetings with Thomas

after Minho plays up the part of fully healing, he's released from the hospital with grinning doctors and a relieved Thomas

"We really thought it'd take more than this," Jorge murmurs as he helps Thomas carry a fake-limping Minho back to Thomas' tent. "I guess even WCKD's best scientists can't break you."

Minho puts out a tired but cocky smile that he knows will reassure Jorge

Thomas is a nervous wreck their first few days living together

awkwardly inviting him to sleep in one bed

asking him if he still likes his coffee with milk

trying to tease him and crack jokes, and then falling quiet and shuffling away when Minho doesn't respond

Minho has to take it slowly, otherwise it'll look suspicious

so he acts up the part of slowly loosening his soldier shell

Yes, he would prefer to be alone right now. But Thomas can be the exception

Yes, he hates being touched on his back. But Thomas can touch his scars because Minho smiles softly when Thomas' hands are on him

Yes, he will flinch violently when Thomas moves his hands a little too quickly near his face. But he'll catch Thomas' hands in his with a reassuring smile, then quickly yank his hands away like he didn't notice his intimate motion

Minho trains himself to wake up at random periods of the night, and then jerks out of bed screaming so Thomas can catch him in his arms and press kisses against his cheeks

when they're invited to help Frypan in the kitchen, Minho dabs whipped cream on his nose so Thomas can teasingly kiss it off

Minho wears thin shirts because Thomas blushes at the sight of his massive arms

Minho stops frowning so much. Stops shutting down and going quiet when he's confused. Lets himself cry when the nightmares of WCKD's training program come back instead of steeling his face and screaming quietly inside. Seeks Thomas' attention. Craves Thomas' touch.

and one day, he realizes he doesn't want to study Thomas and wait for the perfect times to strike

he doesn't want to beat Thomas into a bloody pulp and hold whatever's left as a hostage

he wants to be the Minho that Thomas thinks he is

Minho, whose soldierly calculations aren't going towards researching Thomas' weak points. What scars still hurt. What fighting techniques he can no longer do after the injuries he sustained

instead, he's noting Thomas' favorite cookie

what kind of scented candle he likes

that he loves the sound of wind chimes

his passion for a warm cup of tea on a rainy day

his distaste for Minho's pretend drinking problem

his adoration for budding flowers and small dogs

his awkwardness as he tries to figure Minho out

his goofy, idiot smile when he spots Minho in a crowd

I'm poisoning myself.

You're poisoning me.

Minho wasn't trained in this.

Minho can remove a bullet from his abdomen with no pain killers. Minho can operate a handgun with five broken bones in each hand. Minho can plank for half an hour while withstanding hot iron brandings on his back.

Minho can take a mouthguard without spitting in a scientists' face, and Minho can have his brain electrocuted without crying.

Minho can't take whatever Thomas is.

"I don't remember the Glade." He says it so quietly because he's so terrified. He's never been terrified before.

Thomas doesn't catch it. "You don't what?" he mumbles as he sinks his teeth gently into the soft skin of Minho's left shoulder. Minho's entire collarbone is littered with his lovebites.

It's the first pain Minho's ever enjoyed. And willingly sought out

"I'm not a Glader."

Thomas pulls off him, and his shoulder feels cold without that heat. His waist feels could without Thomas' arms wrapped around him, his lap feels cold with Thomas' legs resting him them

"Minho," Thomas tries to say in a soft tone.

"We should go to the hospital."

"Why?" Thomas rakes his eyes over Minho's body, concerned.

"I need to speak to my psychiatrist."

"Have you had another one of your attacks?" Thomas asks, suddenly urgent. He puts a gentle hand on Minho's, ready to do anything Minho wants him to do.

It breaks Minho. Completely.

Thomas holds him so, so gently as he sobs into his chest.

"I'm sorry," he tries to say, but Thomas just shushes him and kisses him sweet.

[maarrgarr]

The Unknown Heir.

masterlist of the Unknown Heir.

Gojo Satoru x fem! reader.

Synopsis: The reader returns after being gone for two years and leaving her boyfriend, Satoru, without giving him a reason. But now she doesn't come back alone.

Warnings: English is not my first language, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes, some plot changes.

Satoru remembered once, when he was fifteen years old, someone in his family told him that he had to have children for the Gojo legacy to continue to exist, and so that the world would not be unprotected from curses.

At that moment he only responded by rolling his eyes. He was just a teenager who only thought about having a good time and maybe sleeping with different women. But the idea of starting a family did not appeal to him.

Until he accepted his feelings towards you and the two of them started a relationship.

Until he saw you playing with Megumi and Tsumiki. Until he saw you trying to learn how to cook something delicious for those children who weren't even yours, but you loved them as if they were. Until he saw you comforting them when they fell and hurt themselves or had a nightmare.

When he saw all those moments he thought that the idea of having a child was not so bad. But only if I had it with you.

Perhaps, and even if it was wrong, because of that idea that had unconsciously settled in his head, the last few times they had sex he didn't care much about using a condom or not.

But he was wrong about something, in not talking to you about it. Because if only he had told you his desire to have a child with you, if he had only been more open, you would not have left.

But he thought it was not necessary to tell you. He thought that with all the love that he showed you daily, you would trust him and if you ever got pregnant you would tell him and you would both be happy.

But that didn't happen.

You got pregnant, but you didn't tell him anything and you left.

And he couldn't understand why.

Smoking was a habit you had long since given up. You haven't done it since you were a teenager, specifically since you started dating Satoru, who hated smoking. He lived scolding every time he saw you take out a cigarette and a lighter, he said that, in addition to smelling bad, it was also harmful to your health, so over time you stopped doing it.

Until an hour ago.

You didn't come back to the room after the argument you had with Satoru. You texted Shoko asking her to put Ryusei to sleep and you didn't tell her anything else.

You had already stopped crying and now you just limited yourself to inhaling the cigarette smoke and looking at nothing.

You wouldn't blame Gojo if he decided to never speak to you again. You hated yourself for ruining everything nice that you and Satoru ever had.

You had no coherent excuse for what you had done, except that you were a coward who got scared and ran away.

You weren't so concerned about whether or not Satoru would take care of Ryusei, you knew deep inside that Gojo Satoru would be incapable of not accepting his heir.

Now what occupies your worries was how you were going to cope with your relationship with Satoru, how were they going to organize about Ryusei's upbringing? if they couldn't even hold a conversation without arguing.

By the time you realized it, it was already dawn and soon you would have to meet Gojo.

You went back to your room and saw how Ryusei was fast asleep. You woke him up and helped him change and then left him with Shoko. You noticed that your son was a little quieter than usual, "Everything alright, Ryu?" you asked him and he just nodded. You thought maybe he was just tired.

"You have to tell me what happened last night" Ieiri told you when you left Ryusei with her, "I'll tell you everything well later. Now I have to go meet Gojo and see what he says" you told her and she smiled at you trying to calm your nerves, "I'm sure Satoru adored Ryu, after all, he's his copy."

When you arrived at the training ground, you were surprised not to find the students, nor Gojo there. You were about to turn around and go ask Yaga where they were, but when you did you found yourself face to face with Satoru.

The nerves invaded you.

"They went on a mission" he told you. "Ah" was the only thing that came out of you.

You two were silent, until you broke it.

You took a breath before saying what you were thinking of telling him. "Gojo, I have no excuses to give you why I ran away and didn't tell you that I was pregnant. Fear won me, and I'm not making excuses, I just didn't know what to do and-" He cut you off, "You were a coward and I thought that I was not dating a coward." His words hurt you, but you just swallowed and nodded, after all he was right. "Yes, I was a coward. And I'm so sorry Satoru, seriously, I'm sorry" you were sincere with your words and he noticed it, but right now he didn't care about your forgiveness.

"I didn't come to listen to your regrets. I came to talk about my son" you never got used to Gojo's serious tone, because he practically never used it with you. "I want to see him." he told you, and you clenched your jaw, you still hadn't planned how to tell Ryusei that Gojo was his dad. "Now?" you asked him, "Yes, now" he replied firmly. You sighed, "Okay, I'm going to go find him, wait here".

You started walking towards the infirmary, and meanwhile, you thought about how to explain the whole situation to your son.

It was time for Satoru and Ryusei to formally meet.

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I'm really sorry for taking so long to upload this chapter and on top of that I accidentally posted it twice. I had a week full of exams and that's why I couldn't publish, plus I didn't have many ideas on how to follow the story either.

But here is chapter 19, I don't like it very much, but I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you very much for understanding and for all the support this story receives <3.

[xadored]

you and osamu as the feared champions of all you can eat restaurants

reader is in college and gender neutral | slight timeskip osamu and atsumu spoilers | you, a broke university student with a part time job and osamu working a crap job apprenticing under a fancy Tokyo chef who he hates. every day you and him bust your asses studying, working, and collapse into bed tired. but once a week, you'll abandon your assignments and osamu will be victorious off another dinner rush, and you and your boyfriend will dine like absolute kings at your favorite all you can eat sushi spot. flat fee, three hour time limit, no limitations on ordering, and of course, extra charge for any food uneaten. (Osamu likes the pressure to clear his plate) no water, no alcohol, not even the miso soup, just to maximize capacity Osamu's work in the kitchen means he knows what costs the most on the menu, so he always orders the best, and you and him will eat thrice your body weight in fish and still lie to the waiter and tell him it's osamu's birthday for the free dessert. (after the 15th time the restaurant starts ID-ing birthdays) each bite of food takes you one more step away from the grind of another hard week, and when you go out the two of you are just a happy couple with no cares in the world. no piles of homework, no exams, no bosses to yell at you, no rent to pay, you and osamu pretend you have absolutely no problems other than running this restaurant into the ground. afterwards, you and osamu cuddle up on your couch and promptly pass out while an episode of Kitchen Nightmares plays in the background and you and your boyfriend would've kept doing your weekly dates until the end of time, if it weren't for atsumu. he crashes your date night, drunk, after a bad loss couples with another failed situationship ("how do they not want me? I'm a pro athlete, and look at my hair!") in need of a win, atsumu challenges osamu to see who can eat more. this results in loud bickering, some crying from atsumu, osamu cheating, atsumu refusing to listen to you and trying to pull the free birthday desert, two broken plates, and a lot of fish eaten. at one point atsumu gets too full and leaves the restaurant to "take a digestion lap" and jogs around the block before coming back to eat. on the way home, atsumu leans too much body weight on his brother, causing them both to go crashing to the ground. A ring box tumbles out of osamu's jacket pocket, which he immediately scrambles to hide. (he'll later tell you he was carrying it around because there was no good place to hide it in your tiny apartment) You pretend not to have seen anything and fuss over helping atsumu back up, but the whole way home you can't stop smiling.

anyways, you, osamu and atsumu are officially banned from the restaurant by the head chef due to suffering too many damages in food expenditures. atsumu promises to use his fancy pro athlete money to pay for all the food and drinks at your wedding, and to pay for your anniversary dinner at a Michelin star restaurant for the next 5 years.

== hii omg i just rly wanted to try writing fanfic, i been like a ghost reader on here for a million years now! would love to chit chat if ur down! :^)

[heartfullofleeches]

I need to see Selene having a sweet morning w her neighbor(wife) so bad. She's so cute?? I just wanna see her be happy and making breakfast for/with them while the vibes are good and sleepy. Let this woman get to sleep in and cuddle her lovely neighbor after brutally murdering her husband just the other night

Selene always wanted of a spring wedding.

Beyond being a child of the season, in her eyes it was to be the most romantic - symbolic of the growth between young lovers to lifelong partners. Furthermore, both mother and grandmother had spring weddings - passing their knowledge and the gift of their wedding gown onto the next generation. Its soft emerald hue matched her eyes and the season 0beautifully. She dreamed of walking down the aisle surrounded by love, the cool spring air, and blooming roses.

So why was she here now - cold and without an ounce of love to her name. The artifical bouquet in her hands scratched at the delicate parts of her skin and hair, autumn winds biting her exposed neck and arms. Spring was too much of an inconvenience for her soon to be husband. He hated the outdoors and insects that roamed freely, and so their wedding was set for October in the confines of an old church.

Selene told herself she could be happy. This was meant to be the happiest day of her life and the start of her days as a doting, loving wife, but as she entered the chapel she'd find someone else taking her place. A beautiful soul with a smile that encapsulated everything she loved about spring. Warm and inviting - impossible to forget or ever let go. Dressed in her best, she could never dream be to as angelic as the creature standing up there with her lover. She falls to her knees, begging to be taken instead. To be loved by that angel. To be chains to that demon so he can never hurt them like he's broken her.

"Selene......"

She screams. Take me instead. Take me....

"Ms. Selene!"

Her eyes flutter open. No longer is she crying on the church floor. A gentle hand rubbing her back draws her from slumber, and the remaining tears from her eyes. The stiffness in her spine reminds her of the most uncomfortably comfort night she's had on someone else's couch.

"Ms. Selene, are you okay? You were crying in your sleep when I came to check on you."

Color darkens her pale face as she sits up, deepened by the hand that aids her. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I.... I'm normally not one to dream, and I believe that was the first nightmare I've had in... years.. "

"It's alright, Ms. Selene. You've had a rough night."

Recollection of the night prior barrel through her like a speeding train as she looks up at the face of her savior. She bawled her eyes out at your doorstep, pleading to stay just one night and be gone before down. Her husband had allegedly changed the locks before leaving town and it was too late for her to call anyone else. You offered your home and bed to her as any would do, but she settled for the couch not wanting to be more of a burden than she was.

You give her hand an affirming squeeze - unknowingly kickstarting the beat of her heart. "You have nothing to be sorry for, and you can stay here as long as you need. We'll call a locksmith later so you can get some of your belongings."

It's hard to believe someone that was a stranger only a few short months ago had shown her more kindness than her husband had in all of their years together. Your arm returns to her shoulder as more tears leak from her tired eyes, pulling her into embrace that wash decades of self loathing off her mind. All that lingers in its wake is how she'd kill to spend every morning in your arms - just like this. Even she had to relieve the pain of her past everyday, it would all be worth it to have you.

"Thank you, Y/n. I know we don't know each other well, but words can not describe how luck I am to have you. Without you I don't know where I'd be right now.."

"Ah, don't worry about it. I know you'd do the same for me. Are you hungry?"

She places a hand to her stomach, unsure when the last time she'd eaten. "Seems. Maybe i should make something for us. You've done enough for me already."

"Nah, don't think like that, we can do it together. I have some pancake mix and some fruit in the fridg if that sounds good."

Selene smiles. "That sounds wonderful, dear."

"Cool." Sporting a smile of your own, you lead Selene into the kitchen. You grab a cutting board and knife, placing both on the table as you digging around for the produce in your fridge. Cutting the fruit, Selene has never known more bliss from slicing anything than her husband's throat.

This truly was her new happiest day.

[luneemeritus]

“Held”

Erik/Christine | One-shot | AKA Erik experiencing The Horrors™ and being comforted by Christine

TW for (past) child neglect, Erik-typical outburst + panic attack

That child was the curse of her life. A punishment for sins she didn't remember committing. Joane gave birth to Death incarnate, the Death responsible for her husband's abandonment and for the nightmares that followed her, nightmares about that deformed face. The face of Death. When she found out she was pregnant, she dreamed of a beautiful, healthy family, full of life and hope, but all she got was a horrible child devoid of humanity. Her dream was killed, murdered by the face of Death... she confessed these words before the priest several times, hoping that someone — God? — would solve her problem, heal her wound, transform the child that came out of her womb or, at the very least, get rid of him. But no. Nothing, and no one, took Death out of her life. Her entire life dedicating herself to the church, hoping to have eternal life, was all in vain. Because she gave birth to the one who was her own ruin.

The baby has been crying for over 20 minutes. He screams, shouts, cries, sobs, begs for his mother. Joane just breastfed him — she has already felt his morbid and horrifying touch on her breast — and she doesn't want to see him again. “I'm already keeping you alive when you least deserve it,” she whispered to herself, curled up in her own bed, “what more do you want? Why don't you leave me alone? Why don't you shut…” she felt her hot tears running down her face “the fuck… up!”

Joane clutched her head tightly, covering her ears and keeping her eyes tightly closed. She doesn't want to hear those sounds, she doesn't want to touch him again. She doesn't want to look at that morbid face anymore. That's enough for today. That's enough for that night. She just wants to sleep, and go back to dreaming about the life that was taken from her. He was alone, locked in his room, a clammy, dark room, and he hated it there. He felt so cold. Not just on his skin, but also in his heart. He begs for his mother, begs for the minimal amount of affection. His sickly yellow skin slowly reddens from crying, crying out of agony and lamentation. His tears were so intense that he felt his face melt. He cried some more, screamed louder, but it was all useless. She wouldn't come. She doesn't want anything to do with him, she won’t listen.

The small creature, even in agony and cold, fell silent. Too tired to keep crying, without the strength to yell, he fell asleep from so much exhaustion. Suffering overcame him, once again. Joane, who had been shaking and hugging her body tightly, softened and took a deep breath. She could sleep in peace. Finally…

(...)

Erik screamed as he felt the ebony porcelain being ripped from his face, revealing the cadaverous skin he tried to hide for so long. He covered his face with both hands, but not fast enough to prevent Christine from seeing him, and he noticed. Of course he noticed, the look of horror in Christine's cobalt eyes was already expected. She dropped the mask as quickly as she took it off, unsure if what scared her more was the face she saw or the scream she heard — a scream of rage and fear that seemed to tear Erik's lungs in an agonizing symphony. She took a few steps back, but lost her balance as soon as Erik got up from the chair. Falling to the floor, Christine tries to get away from the man who is now scratching his own face with the same strength and intensity he used to play the magnificent and macabre Don Juan Triumphant.

“E-Erik, I can…”

“I warned you!” he shouted, approaching Christine threateningly. “I warned you not to touch my mask, I warned you that you couldn't! And you…” his voice cracked with the tears he was trying to suppress “you didn’t listen to me, you don’t listen. You never listen!”

When Christine quickly stood up and tried to run, Erik grabbed her by the arms and forced her to face him. She had never been so scared before, those eyes of terror were nothing new to Erik, and that infuriated him even more. Nothing was new, being forcibly unmasked, the fear and revulsion at the sight of him... always the same thing.

“Look! Now look!” Erik cried hoarsely. “You wanted so badly to see beneath the mask! Now look! Feast your eyes on my accursed ugliness!” He squeezed her arms very tightly and shook her. Christine didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do, and only a few weak sounds of pain and fear came out of her mouth. Everything became even more confusing when she saw tears streaming from the cadaverous eyes, the golden eyes of Death.

Let her go.

“Erik?” she whispers weakly, as she felt his touch ease and, slowly, his fingers loosen.

You monster. Let go of her.

Erik takes a few steps back. Now he was the one speechless, feeling his tears falling to the ground and his heart beating very, very fast. No, no, no. Not again, not… not now. Not with her. 

Erik's vision blurred, his heart wouldn't stop beating, he could hear it loudly, like a giant stomping in his ear. He didn't even realize he was losing his balance until he felt the impact of his body on the ground. Dizzy, he tried to crawl away from the woman.

"Christine... I'm sorry" his voice was barely understandable, it was so weak. "I-I'm sorry, I..." I can't breathe. I can't breathe.

Erik closed his eyes tightly and hugged his own body, getting into the fetal position and begging internally for all of this to end. He wanted to ask for help, but he couldn't. His voice barely came out. His body no longer obeyed his commands. He felt suffocated by his own organs, his body got absurdly cold even though he was fully dressed. It wasn't the first time this had happened, but he never got used to it. Even more so in front of her. This time, he was sure he would die like this… suffocated by his own mind, after hurting the only person who mattered to him. No other death would be more appropriate than this… dying as a monster in the eyes of everyone who has passed through his life.

Suddenly, Erik felt two small, delicate hands on his shoulder. The hands pulled his shoulders down and cupped his cheeks. He was sighing very loudly, as if his throat was being scratched. “Erik?!” the sweet, angelic voice called him, still muffled to his ears. “Erik, I’m here. Breathe, please! It’s going to be okay!” now, clearer, the voice began to calm him down. Erik managed to open his eyes, still soaked in tears, and stared at the blonde woman touching him. His vision was still blurry, but the more she called his name, the better he could see her. Erik felt his body ease, his aching muscles loosen, and his breathing back to normal. “Erik? Are you with me?” she asked in a pleading tone.

“...Christine…” he moaned weakly. Daaé moved her hands to Erik’s torso and rested her head on his chest, feeling his heart slow down. She remained like that for a while, until she felt long, cold fingers massaging her blond hair. He said nothing, just remained still on the floor as his body returned to normal. Erik felt the fresh air enter his nostrils, as if he had been rescued from drowning. The sensation of having Christine lying on his chest was heavenly, like deep wounds slowly being closed. But when Erik moves his head down and sees nail marks on both her arms, his chest tightens in shock and guilt. He didn’t just scare her, he hurt her. He showed her his worst side, showed her not only his face, but also the violent outburst that always accompanies him. No, he didn’t deserve that…

Erik forces her off his lap. “What’s wrong?” Christine asked, her voice as sweet and gentle as ever. “Are you okay?”

“I am, now. Everything is fine.” He answered in a harsh tone. It wasn’t what he meant, but what did his intentions matter if he couldn’t control his own mind or body. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, I… I can’t.”

“You can’t what?”

“You have to go.” Erik’s eyes met Christine’s confused expression. “Go away. You’re not safe here, with me. I want you to leave.”

“What? Why?” she expressed indignation.

“Look what I did to you!” he pointed to her arms. “I’m a monster. I can’t… I can’t touch you, it’s not… it’s not right. You have to stay away from me.” Erik turned away, but as he tried to hide in his room, his arm was grabbed by Christine.

“Stop!” she demanded firmly. “Listen to me for once!” Christine took a deep breath. “I don’t want to leave. I forgive you!”

“But I don’t.” Erik retorts, releasing his arm from her grasp. “And I'll never forgive myself for that. Never… I can only destroy, I can't take care of anything or anyone. This affection… wasn't made for me.”

Christine surprises him with a hug from behind, her thin arms surrounding his chest, her golden hair sliding down his back. “That’s not true! I'm sorry for taking off your mask, but I promise you can trust me. If there’s anything bothering you, you can tell me. I'm here for you, just like you were there for me.”

Astonished, Erik turns around and returns Christine's hug, laying his head in the crook of her neck. He couldn't hold back his tears anymore; but now they weren't of sadness or guilt, but of relief. He'd never received a hug before, not even from his own mother. Although he hadn't imagined that his first hug would happen in this situation, he still thanked everything that was sacred to him. He needed it. Erik sobbed with emotion and tightened his grip, feeling Christine’s delicate fingers massaging his back. “I’m so sorry…”

“Ssh, it’s okay, Erik. I’m here.”

Yes. She heard him, she came, and she was there for him…

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

It's been six months since Pete and Vegas started living together, and while many things are amazing ( i.e. the many and mutual orgasms)  sometimes Vegas is really…off…

Yes, he is still dealing with the effects of being shot and helping Porsche run the minor family; because Porsche still doesnt know what the fuck he is doing most of the time, but there's something else going on  

Something more.

Something deeper than just the trauma of being shot, or losing his father.

He sees it sometimes when they are having sex, or when it's late at night and Vegas gets quiet and has a far away look on his face. He feels it sometimes when the younger man flinches away from his soft touches, when he doesn't exactly apologize, but says he's just distracted and tired. 

He hears it when Vegas is sleeping and cries out, eyes shifting quickly behind closed lids, quiet moans and protests leaving his lips as his body trembles next to Pete in their shared bed. 

Pete tries to ask him about the nightmares  about the looks, about the times he feels like he's disappearing, but is met with resistance and repeated I’m fine's. 

It doesn't matter, though. 

Vegas doesn't have to admit anything. 

Pete starts piecing things together little by little on his own.  

***

They don't talk about Khun Gun. 

But he’s with them all the same. 

In those first fragile weeks after, when his thoughts and feelings were a festering open wound as raw and real as the ones maring his chest, Vegas would scream, and sometimes he would cry.

Never in front of Macau. 

Never in front of the doctor or nurses. 

Never in front of anyone but Pete. 

Because Pete had stayed. And he knows that means something to Vegas. 

He knows because of the way Vegas holds him and squeezes his hand in the dark hospital room and lets out a bitter angry sound before hissing. “I'm glad he's dead. I fucking hate him.” 

Pete hums in agreement. He's glad the bastard is dead too.  

“I hate what he did…what he made me into, made me do….but a part of me still ….it still loves him….wants to have made him proud.  Fucking ridiculous. I'm so fucking pathetic.” 

The words are heavy, weighted in a strange way that Pete can't quite place. 

He tries to comfort him anyway. “You're not pathetic. He was your father, Vegas. It makes sense that a piece of you will always be a little boy that loves him and hates that he never gave you validation.”

Vegas gives him an unreadable look before muttering, “If you say so.” 

It isn't exactly him accepting Pete’s words, but he takes it as a win. 

Vegas has always liked to play rough. It's one of the things Pete fucking loves about him. He knows just how to get Pete to that distance floaty place where Pete the bodyguard nee-boyfriend ends and Pete the pet begins. He knows just how much and where to hurt him. Vegas loves to tie him up, belt him, flog him, use all the right toys and clamps to make Pete squirm. To make him scream. 

But there is always one thing that he doesn't do that always surprises him. Even that first time, when he was still technically Vegas’ prisoner, even now when they're role-playing and Pete asks to be fucked raw and without any prep….

Vegas's idea of no prep is obviously different than Pete's. 

Because no matter how or what they are doing, Vegas always makes sure he's wet. If not with lube, with copious amounts of spit. Even now, when Pete is practically begging him to shove his fingers inside of him dry, it's like he physically can't do it. He's already shoving his fingers into Pete's mouth to make sure they're coated. A quick don't want you to tear, baby whispered in his ear. 

Pete grunts in disappointment, he wants it to hurt dammit, but he knows this is not something he wants to fight right now when he's so close to having a mind blowing orgasm. 

Instead, he just files his observation away to look closer at it another day. 

***

When Vegas was in the hospital they'd had a lot of time to talk, and while Vegas refused to discuss certain topics in length, (his father's death) he was more than willing to answer Pete's questions. Especially those regarding Porsche. 

It wasn't a…fun…conversation, but since Pete was aware that Vegas was behind his best friend being drugged, he felt like he needed to know how far Vegas had been willing to take it. He'd needed to know if he'd planned to assault him. 

Vegas hadn't shied away from the question. He'd held eye contact and insisted that it had never been his intention to sleep with Porsche. He'd only wanted to leave a few marks to make Kinn think someone had. 

His face had gone a bit tight, his mouth a bit pinched, when he'd added that he didn't Like having unwilling partners and that he had even told Porsche that when he'd left the hickey on his neck. (Porsche  later confirms that he remembered  muffled words being muttered in his ear) 

Pete believes him. 

Mostly because of their own fucked up beginnings. 

Because despite the neck licking, and the wandering hand brushing close to his cock, Vegas hadn't actually done anything explicitly sexual to Pete when he'd caught him. 

It was simply torture, and it had been expected. Sure, It had turned Vegas on, and he'd made a couple lewd remarks, but he hadn't forced himself on Pete. It wasn't until Pete himself kissed him in the safehouse that it became purely sexual. 

And now when they play, when they do scenes, they have safewords and check ins and Vegas always makes sure Pete is good and that he's not too far gone or in too much pain. He gets off on hurting Pete, but he also likes taking care of him afterwards. He's strangely attentive and somewhat tender. 

So he is fairly confident that while Vegas is a sadistic, manipulative asshole most of the time, he actually cares about the consent of his sexual partners. 

Which should be the norm, if you asked Pete  but he knows it isn't. Especially in their line of work. Even Khun Kinn had….

Well….that's beside the point. 

The point is that this is another piece of the puzzle that makes up Vegas and his past that Pete is trying to put together. 

***

Vegas doesn't bottom….

Or he doesn't usually bottom. 

And that's fine with Pete. He is more than happy to be the one getting his back blown out. Prostate orgasms are great, thank you very much. 

But Pete had made a post coital comment about how sexy Vegas's body was and how hot it would be to watch him riding Pete’s cock, and Vegas had said he wouldn't be opposed to that as long as he was on top. 

So they tried it. 

And fuck. Pete had been right.

It was the hottest thing he's ever seen. 

But when he'd moved, lifting Vegas up to flip them over and pin him to the bed, his boyfriend had gone completely rigid and dislodged himself from Pete, moving to the other side of the room  with a deep frown and a quiet I told you, l need to be on top. 

Pete had apologized profusely and suggested that Vegas just tie him up so he wouldn't get any stupid ideas like that again. After a few minutes he'd nodded and done just that and they'd ended the night fully satisfied. 

But Pete couldn't forget the look of fear on his face when he'd flipped them. 

There was a reason why Vegas didn't bottom. 

Why he wanted consent. 

Why he wanted at least a little prep.

Why he didn't want his partners to tear.   

It reminds him...

There had been rumors at the Main family compound….that the Minor family heir sometimes sweetened arms deals with his charm….with his body. 

Pete had scoffed at them in the past. Just because Khun Vegas liked having sex and blatantly collected Kinns throwaways like trading cards, didn't mean he was sleeping with the family's business partners for better deals. 

But now? Pete is starting to believe that maybe there is some truth to those rumors.

[angelstate]

“Devotion And Death”

Genre: Angst. No comfort.

Pairing: Simon Riley x Sargeant!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warning: Suicidal ideation, Mention of Death, Religious symbolism. (is not used in regards to dictate reader's or character's religion in the story but with the intent of a more dramatic and poetic narration)

Synopsis: “Devotion to loving causes souls to grieve, even the one's who haven't died yet. Devotion and Death walk side by side in the heart of those who have been hurt by lost.”

disclaimer: this is not the finished product, I'm attempting to finish it soon but i thought it would be nice share what I've written so far! xx

“Death catches up to everyone.”

Simon could feel your stare on him, hear your tears hit the floor, breaking the silence of the ambient in a heart wrecking way that made his entire soul twist in pain.

He took a deep breath at this, it was the middle of the battlefield, it was the middle of a horrible war and there you were. Crying silently, the now wet soil in front of your feet being the only other proof that your tears were falling.

Simon couldn't move, couldn't breath, couldn't grip his rifle any tighter than he already was. It was like he was stucked in time, not being able to react to the sight infront of him.

he saw the way your hands shook in each side of your tired body, the way you couldn't stop blinking repeatedly to try and get rid of the wet liquid falling from your eyes like an open faucet.

Oh, how he hated the sight before him...

You looked so unbelievably lost, like a child searching for it's parents on the amusement park, so many things that were beautiful becoming terrifying before your eyes. The night sky feeling like monster ready to creep up on you and swallow you whole.

You were as conflicted as he was, as dumbfounded, as tired, as wrecked...as lost.

It felt like a betrayal to be in the middle of this place, bullets decorating the floor, perforations on the few standing walls around you made by said discarded bullets.

It was nothing like home and yet, the only person you needed to feel like at home seemed to be...not anything close to a safe place.

"Are you alright, Sarg?" Simon asked with his usual cold tone, not being able to put an ounce of emotion for your so obvious need of comfort

You nodded once but then stood there, like a kid who had a nightmare, waiting to be noticed, to be called, to be coddled, cuddled, to be lulled to sleep.

Sometimes you wished you had never become a soldier, that you had stayed in college, made friends, got a normal job...got a life where the closest you were to war was what you saw on TV...Too far away to go into the battlefield, too safe to ever see a gun.

You shuffled in your place, not facing him anymore, your side profile only visible for him in the darkness drowning your bodies, the wetness of your cheeks noticeable by the moonlight shinning on your face.

Simon didn't knew how to comfort you, didn't knew how to dry your tears, feed your soul, ease your mind, put you to sleep..he didn't knew anything at all and it was as traumatizing as reliving the inflicted wounds of his childhood. He felt as if he was hurting his younger self in you, how much you resembled that poor boy...he saw himself on you.

He saw the purity of your soul being ripped away from your chest the same way his had been ripped away from him.

Your hand moved to rest on your gun hostler, the cold metal icing your warm skin and suddenly, the palpable opportunity to...to do something about the misery felt tempting and yet so out of touch.

Complicated, conflicted, lost.

Simon noticed the weapon now at your reach, and for the first time since you met years ago as rookies, he didn't trust you with a gun...

Such a different reason now on his mind, the scenarios running through his head, sending chills down his spine as he took one unstable step closer to you before stopping...

"Resting is important for a successful mission" he began to speak, his tone nonchalant but his feelings felt heavy on his chest. Like something was wrong.

“Death catches up to your loved ones.”

Nothing felt right after that night, nothing felt right after seeing you so close to the end.

Nothing felt right after seeing how you were ready to do it infront of him

Simon felt broken, like a partner grieving their lover's death, staring at an empty casket because their body were not to be moved from where it fell that cold winter night.

It would be a crime to touch your cold body, to move you from where you were finally put to rest.

It would be a crime to grieve anywhere else than where you decided to go.

It would be a crime to wipe the dry blood from the floor, it would be a crime to use a old cloth to wipe away remains of his lover.

Simon could smell the rotten meat, the fresh blood. Feel your heartbeat fade in his arms, your skin grow cold. See your soul leave your body, the light on your doe eyes dimming till it disappeared.

Simon could only grip tighter your deceased body, smearing himself with the red liquid that leaked from you, painting the soil in which you rested.

Simon had never wished more to be buried alive once again beside a rotting body.

He had never craved more to hear your voice ringing in his ear, feel the heat of your skin in the middle of a summer night.

He had never craved more to be in an argument with you, alive and kicking. Blood flowing inside your body and not out of you to the wet soil.

Feeding the roots hiding under the first layer of dirt, providing the trees with nutrients to blossom in the spring in all their glory.

Simon wanted your screams, your complains, your warmth, your touch....He wanted you alive.

Why was it so hard for the people he loved to stay alive?

He wondered if peace was an option, if leaving the military was the remedy for the grief. If using the same gun that took your life, a ticket to paradise. If drowning in the scent you left on the bed a solution for the night terrors.

He wondered if there was anything in this world, anything he could do...to forget about the pain, to Emancipate the grieve from his chest.

Simon felt like a haunted house, full of the ghosts of his loved ones, each one of them crowding one room on his heart till it burned in pain.

Was it pain all he had left?

Maybe he was overthinking, maybe he was just running laps around the terrifying idea of ever losing you. Would he ever lose you? Would he allow himself to live after losing you?

Grief was a weird feeling, specially when the person being grieved wasn't dead.

“Death catches up to You.”

"You looked different after that night" Simon thought everytime his eyes fell on you, his heart becoming a desperate void, craving to be filled with your love one more time

You looked tired after that night, at times light flashed through you, dying before anyone could set the fire alive again.

Simon smelled the cigarettes, the alcohol, the sadness, the death in you.

He saw how you were tearing yourself apart, he saw the bruises. He saw the cigarette burns in your arms.

And it hurt him, he saw himself in you, he saw the life being ripped away from you, he saw the tiredness he hid behind stoicism and rudeness showing on full display on you.

It was as if he was looking at the inside of his bruised self in you.

It was heart wrecking to feel grief and love towards a dead soul, trapped in a living body.

He noticed the way your trays full of food were thrown into the garbage, the way you repelled warmth, conversations, connection.

What sort of spell you were trapped in? He didn't knew, was it God punishing you from past lives? He wished it wasn't. Was it suicidal ideations? He prayed not.

He hated the sight of guns in your hands since that night, your finger pressed on the trigger pulling ropes after ropes of panic out of his wrecked heart.

Your eyes lingered in the guns for longer, your finger pressed with more pressure than supposed to on the trigger whenever the barrel was facing you, as if you put to much pressure and shoot yourself would be seen as a mistake.

The team knew you better than that, you were sure of it, they had been your family for years, they had hugged, cried, smiled, laughed along side with you.

They must have noticed the recklessness you used now. Simon had noticed.

Simon had loved you for long enough to notice when you stood differently, when your scent changed with the seasons, when your body language changed with illness.

He knew...he knew.

“Don't do anything reckless” Simon said, tugging your vest down, not trying to adjust it but shaking your body into consciousness again.

He wanted you alive.

Another mission, another chance to die.

You nodded at his words, tired eyes falling on him for just a second before you looked away, hands grabbing your rifle with uneasiness.

Death was a louring creature, and Simon could see it creeping up from behind you like in that night. taking a peek at your tired body, seeing your clock of life ticking more slowly

The night sky of that horrifying night had given clues, had screamed in your faces that it was near.

Death was near

Screams that fell into deaf ears, Devotion never allows death to speak, fearing it's bad news, fearing a loved one was the next to be buried.

“I like you alive, Sargeant” Simon finished speaking with this phrase, his tone cold yet a familiar fondness dripping from the words.

You nodded again, a tired smile on your lips that dissolved like an ice on boiling water.

Getting into the helicopter, getting off from it, scurrying like sewer rats around enemy territory, into the battlefield once again.

This time not with him by your side.

Simon didn't trust you with your life.

You moved around, the sun hitting your skin, overheating your body as you walked slowly, fearing to be heard by enemies.

All you had to do was enter a building, gather Intel and leave.

It was easy, it had been done multiple times by everyone....but something felt off.

You walked alongside your teammates, guiding each other with security, with confidence, you could smell the gunpowder on the alley you were slowly walking through

every step you took made your heart clench, heartbeats loud and quick on your chest, accelerated by adrenaline and anxiety.

getting closer to the building, your team separated for better ground coverage, leaving you crawling your way into the building, gun tucked into your vest.

It was now time to act, to do your job the way you were supposed to because you had to come home, you had to crawl your way back into Simon's arms.

It was an obligation at this point, to make it back alive even when you were supposed to die.

It was devotion to love him in the bed death made for you to lay in...

You had always found interesting how Simon could love you so much and yet persistently run away from feelings.

How he could cradle your face in his hands when you fell asleep in the mess hall while you were in the middle of eating after a mission. Too tired to swallow, too tired to guide yourself to bed.

How he wouldn't wake you up, but wait until the two of you were the only ones left to grab you into his arms and slowly guiding your sleeping body to your bed.

But how in the next morning he would disappear from your sight, becoming the Ghost he was in the battlefield, sneaking around the base without leaving a trace or hint or where he was for days. Until somehow he reappeared, acting like nothing happened.

Simon, always so interestingly mysterious and undeniably hard to understand. He struck your life in a way no one had before, left a mark in all the right corners of your heart that no matter, you couldn't escape him.

He was the definition of a sadistical love, tauntingly painful yet extremely addicting to the receiving end, you. The only one sallowing the pain, your tears and blood being drank by him like it was heaven liquified for his consumption.

the overwhelming feeling of anxiety sat heavily on your chest, maybe it was your instincts telling you something was wrong, begging you to turn around and abandon the mission, it didn't matter to the high moral compass that guided your steps silently across the room.

was it better to die in sacrifice for the betterment of your peers than to do so by your own hand? was it the enemy's merciless weaponry kinder than your own gun?

if Simon was by your side he would have the answer, he would mutter a set of words in such a threatening tone that the worry behind them could not be perceived, he would push you through the mission with a bruising grasp and force you to live to tell the tale of another horrible mission for the hope of a better future you doubt would be even achieved before you perished.

But, Simon wasn't here.

so your knees didn't quit being an unstable support for your weight, the ticking clock that marked your death slowing down as your heartbeat began to accelerate like an uncontrollable force.

with fear clawing at walls of your soul you began to move slowly towards the door, boots softly tapping against the wooden floor, every screech sending waves of panic, the thought of being heard by one of the enemies enough to have blood flowing through your brain in a way that made you dizzy.

but you pushed through the feelings of sheer panic, moving swiftly around the room. opening the door slowly and observing the empty hallway, no sign of people around nor any sort of weapon.

it looked unsettlingly normal in between the chaos of scattered bullets and debris of destroyed buildings on the street.

"please" you muttered quietly a plea of forgiveness, hoping that God would absolve every wrong doing, every death under your belt, every mumbled put curse and every bain use of his name.

you exhaled after a few seconds of holding in your breath, walking outside of the room into the corridor, the wooden floor creaking under your boots but that didn't stop you from moving.

mind somehow clear of the fear, moral driven by the need to complete your duty motivating your limbs to push through the dread stuck in between the creases of your body.

unaware of the danger, unconscious of death knocking on the door the led to your soul and heartbeat.

May God forgive you for your sins, may the angels guide your soul into heaven, may holy mary pray for your the redemption of your hollow devotion.

May every deity able to destine a good afterlife be in your favor.

Because mercy is one way street not many people are allowed to walk on.

[hymnserendipity]

Sugawara koushi, angst. (First time writing in english!)

Bi Sugawara, Word count: 1k

 

You and Sugawara have been dating for six months now, you support him when he's tired after training, when he's stressed about school and he does the same with you too. He often takes you on cute picnic dates, but lately he has begun to talk nonstop about Kiyoko.

"She is so talented—the best manager! She seems the kind who can handle everything by herself, and she does it with that pretty smile too."

You are not actually listening; every time you try to say something, he listens and then starts all over again talking about the volleyball team or her. At this point, you are almost reaching the break point.

"See, the thing about her is that she's always been good at everything, and she likes our team so much. Now we have a second manager, Yachi, and they are already best friends!" He keeps saying this without actually looking at you while he walks with you to school.

"She's quite a capable woman and has a very natural beauty about her." 

Then you stop him. You couldn't take it anymore.

"Ok, but now stop it, Koushi. I mean, you keep talking about her every day, and I'm starting to feel jealous," you finally admit. 

He finally looked at you.

"Why should it matter if I talk about her? We're all in the volleyball club, and Kiyoko is the manager, one of us. It's inevitable that people will talk about her so much, being such an amazing and beautiful girl. You're acting different, Y/N. What's the point of getting so worked up over this?"

You look at him as if he were a different person. Yes, last night he studied late, so he had had a rough night, but you had never seen your boyfriend like that. 

"The point is that I am your s/o, and you've always been talking only about her!" You accidentally raise your voice.

"Why should I care that you're my s/o? It's not like you're that great of a person anyway! All you do is cling to me and whine about every little thing. You're just too much of a kid. I think you could learn a lot more from Kiyoko, and I can learn more from her than from you too, so what if I talk about her constantly? You're actually nothing compared to her—not in skill, not in beauty, not in anything! Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic and immature here?"

You freeze and try to hide the tears that are forming in your eyes.

"I guess you are right, Suga." You can barely look at his face as the tears obscure your vision, and you turn away.

Sugawara freezes as realize the words that came out of his mouth, his angry look and how it must have hurt you. 

"Y/N, I'm sorry; I shouldn't have said that. I don't really feel that way, you know i adore you... i don't know what came over me, but i didn't mean it... please, i'm sorry, forgive me. "

"Shut up, Suga. " You mumbled.

"No, please y/n, don't be so angry. Can we talk about this? I didn't mean a word of it, you know me, you know that's not how I feel... I just said it because I thought you wouldn't be so hurt by it because it's so ridiculous."

"Please, just shut up. You can go to her for what i care." 

He tries to reach you, but you are already walking away.

"Please calm down and stop crying; I'll take it back; just don't be so upset. If you can't forgive me, then... then you can leave me, but please don't hate me, y/n!" He ran toward you, but you gave him a staring glance, and he stopped.

"I won't mention her again, I promise. Just please...." He whispered to himself.

For the rest of the day, you avoid him like the plague, crying in the bathroom during breaks. 

Sugawara starts feeling awful seeing you cry. It was all a stupid mistake. Why did he say such a hurtful thing? What was he thinking? Before volley practice, he sits down by the tree trunk, feeling hopeless and desperate.

"It's all a nightmare; wake up, wake up. It will be alright; y/n will forgive me. I'll just have to apologize." He mumbled.

He feels tears starting to come down his usually cheerful face. Why did he have to let it all go to waste like that? He is devastated. How did everything go wrong so suddenly? Did he really just ruin their relationship that harshly? 

He tries his best not to seem so upset during practice; however, in reality, he's devastated. His usual cheerful and positive demeanor is gone and has been replaced by a deep sadness. His teammates can tell something is wrong, but he just ignores it, trying to focus on the practice itself to forget about his mistake and the outcome. After practice, once all is over, he decides he has to talk to you, even if it's not easy. He found you at the exit of your photography club.

"Y/N, please, can we talk?" You look at him with tired eyes and sigh.

Sugawara stands in front of you with a sad expression.

"What do you want?" You say while looking at the ground.

"I want to apologize. What I said earlier, the way I was speaking about Kiyoko, I swear I didn't mean it. I don't know why I did; I guess I was just so mad at myself for making you feel bad that I wanted to hurt you back, which was so stupid and wrong of me. What I really want to know is: are you going to forgive me? Are we going to be okay?"

His voice sounds desperate as he pleads for your forgiveness. But... how could you forgive him?

"I don't think I can forgive you. I know she's better than me, more beautiful, and everything. I just don't know how I could look at you the same way now." you confess.

"No, you're wrong. Kiyoko may be beautiful and a talented manager, but she isn't nearly as funny, energetic, or positive as you are. Her beauty is just a fraction of what I feel when I look at you. I love you, and no one can take your place in my heart. Even if I was stupid for being so rude and mean, I don't want to lose you because of it. Please, y/n, give me another chance."

Sugawara looks at you pleadingly, with tears running down his face and his normal smile nowhere to be seen. Instead, he only shows you all his pain and grief over the hurt he has caused.

"I'll do anything you want; just please give me another chance. I won't even look at Kiyoko anymore; I'll do anything to prove that to you. I just don't want to lose you because of a stupid mistake I made. Please, y/n, forgive me." You couldn't say no to this. To his teary eyes. "I forgive you, Koushi," you say.

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

Sugawara's reading list:

[miguelmeiai]

Life is Strange - What if Esteban hadn't died? - Part IV

Esteban and his sons are by the fire. They are eating marshmallows. The wind blows gently. The atmosphere around them is soothing. The sound of the crickets, the water, and the leaves can be heard. ─ Dad, why did my mom run away after she gave birth to me? Was it because of me? Daniel's eyes become watery. ─ No, Daniel, that's not it. It's just… she was unhappy with her life. It's not your fault, Daniel. Maybe I, as her husband, could have done more to… ─ Dad, it's not your fault that that selfish woman decided to abandon us for no reason. ─ I know, Sean, but I was her husband, I shoulda… Sean looks at Daniel. ─ Promise to me we won't talk about this ever again! ─ Come on, Sean! ─ You two, please, don't get into a fight! We came here to relax a bit.

─ Dad, I deserve to know about my mom! Why does Sean forbids me to ever ask about her? ─ I do that to protect you, Daniel, but you're so heard-headed. ─ Okay, Sean, enough. He is only nine years old. ─ This is so unfair. Why do we need to care about her and pity her? Dad, I remember all those nights you stayed up and crying because of her when she left us. Don't you remember how much you suffered because of her? ─ Case closed, Sean! God teaches us to always forgive people, regardless of what they have done. It was hard for me to accept the truth about what happened, I even doubted many times if I could handle all that, plus take care of you and Daniel. Daniel yawns. ─ I think I'm going to sleep. I'm so tired from all that walking. ─ I imagine so, son ─ Esteban laughs. ─ But I kinda have to pee before I sleep. ─ Hm, you can pee behind a tree. But please don't go very far, or else you'll get lost. ─ Okay, dad. Daniel gets up and search for a place to pee. Esteban looks at Sean. ─ Sean, we need to talk. You have been acting so immaturely and aggressively with Daniel. What's happening? ─ Dad, you only stay by Daniel's side. And the lame excuses are all the same. Esteban sighs. ─ I know teenager years aren't the easiest. I know you might be stressed out. I get you. Daniel has been complaining about you. ─ Complaining about me for what? ─ He wants your attention. All you've been doing was pushing him away when he needed you the most. He almost got hit at school and he tried telling you, but you didn't listen. ─ I'm sorry about that, really. ─ I know you hate to babysit him, but listen, Sean: having a brother is one of the most amazing gifts God can give us. ─ But dad, I do love Daniel. It's just… he is annoying sometimes. ─ You were annoying too sometimes when you were younger. Yet I didn't push you away. Sean sighs. ─ I get it, that. I promise I will try to get closer to him. ─ You know your behavior directly influences his. You are his role model. ─ I know, dad, I know. You have been saying this to me like every day. Daniel comes back. ─ Woah, Daniel, you really took a long time to come back. ─ I got distracted by some cute dogs. Esteban laughs. ─ Great, little boy who never runs out of energy. Now it's time to sleep. Daniel lies down on the floor and shortly after falls asleep. Esteban looks at the stars and Sean looks at his phone. As he is about to text his friend Lyla, it runs out of battery. ─ Fuck, my phone ran out of battery! ─ Take it as a positive thing. It feels good to be disconnected from everything and just seize the moment sometimes. That's why we came here, right? ─ Yeah… They both lie on the grass and look at the clear sky filled with stars and a crescent moon. ─ Another thing I enjoy about the wild is that we can see way more stars. Sean looks at his dad and notices he already fell asleep. ─ Dad… you must have been tired as well. He yawns. ─ I think I'm gonna sleep too. Sean closes his eyes and begins having a nightmare about him and his brother at the front of their house and that same police officer from the previous day. Dad comes, and the police officer shots at him, instantly killing him in front of them. Anxious and highly emotive, Daniel accidentally activates his telekinesis powers and ends up killing the cop. Sean and his brother run away from the city as fast as they can, afraid of the police.

[escapadeist]

palm tree 🌴

nutmeg

ivy

and chia 🩵🩷🩵🩷🩷

get to answering lol

Ayee there's my fren...

palm tree ⇢ do you have a fictional villain you shouldn’t like but love regardless?

Damn, ik they're morally gray characters n very popular or infamous choices for such questions, but Snape n Draco, i don't usually like characters that act out the way they do because of whatever negative experiences they've been through, because you always have a choice to not bleed on those who haven't hurt you, but anyhow, i think that their backstories and everything that they do based on them, doesn't make me love em exactly but appreciate them a lil more than others ig. Also, just a blanket answer will be all those side characters in movies or TV shows, that are not exactly villains but are villainized by others on the show or they and their struggles are hidden from the spotlight because they aren't as quirky or likeable as the main character's problems, just makes me love them even more! Also, might be a bias cause i identify as a side character..

nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?

My room, oh the tragedy, i wanted it to be a subtle dull-ish green, or teal kinda maybe, but it turned out this bonkers paint that i hate now, but anyway, i try to work with it. There's no theme, because i didn't have a room of my own until i was way older and then the prospect of me leaving my parents' home made me think, why even bother decorating.. but yes, as of now, it's just a place i occassionally occupy n has my pride n joy, my bookshelf n my canvases on it and i am a neat freak so i like to organize stuff but ever since my seemingly never ending exams have started n my life decided to go to shit simultaneously, i haven't gotten the chance to clean n organize, but soon i will n it will feel better. (It being me, n also, a bit, the room ig? haha)

ivy ⇢ what are your ‘tells’ for your emotions and moods? how can someone tell you’re happy, annoyed, upset or tired?

Ukw, funnily enough, i don't have a lot of 'tells' especially when I'm sad because i self-isolate, (ik toxic trait, but i feel like i don't wanna burden people with my sadness) so yeah that... But i am quiet mostly when sad n when i feel joyous, i think i hum n sing quite a lot, n take interest in my hobbies again n dance somewhat, but hey that could also be because I'm depressed but I wanna distract myself or procrastinate dealing with it so I just do the happy stuff, fake it till u make it or die amirite? For anger tho, i recently found out, i can't express it healthily, *pause for gasp* n end up screaming, crying (which i hate!!!! Crying when you're angry is horrible!!!!) n actually have very bad symptoms like a racing heartbeat n shortness of breath n have thrown up too, God, I'm oversharing! But yeah, might as well drag the cat that's outta the bag now... (Sorry, no, i still love cats, LIKE A LOT!, Please apologise to your cats, i didn't mean any harm to them)

chia ⇢ what’s an inside joke you have with someone else?

Ok so this is actually a very geographical joke (The Office reference, the kind of jokes u have to "be there for" hehe) so as i said i have my exams going on rn, n in this one subject we had to study about what makes an entrepreneur... And idk if it was a typo in the notes that we were provided with or what, although i wouldn't put my uni past that, but apparently one of the reasons one can be held back from being an entrepreneur is "not being able to have dreams", now ik they must've meant dreams as in a vision or high ambitions or something... But when me n my friend read it, we just imagined this one person going to sleep every night n waking up disappointed like "Dammit! I was so tired, i straight up went to sleep n i didn't even have a dream! This is why mom was right, i will never amount to anything because i don't see any dreams.." now they didn't even bother to specify what kinda dreams, so it can range from nightmares to fantasies or wet dreams for all we care, but ever since then, whenever there's a problem n we can't find a solution, me n my friend say to each other, "Oh well, this is because we never have dreams man! We can never think outside the box for creative solutions to anything, because we sleep too soundly n dreamlessly"

Ik it's a very, very stupidly silly joke but it gets us cracking each time so ig it works out for us atleast lol..

Wow, these were fun to answer!

Would love more asks people!

N if u reblog the OG post I'd love to fill up your ask box too...

Also, love ya n thank u sooo much for sending this love ❤️✨

[the-incapable-hero]

Ayo it's a vent post baby!

I'm putting a read more to protect my followers and my future self from direct exposure to whatever this is about to be.

Aight. I live in a dorm. With roommates. Two, in fact. And you know what? They're lovely people. There are nightmare roommates out there, and these people are not that.

But.

I feel like I'm going to lose my mind. There's noise, there's people, and no matter how badly I want to just turn off my brain and relax, there is always a risk of having to socialize. I'm so tired. I don't want to talk with them hours into the night.

Again, they're lovely people, and it's really no fault of theirs that I'm so riled up. I just want to be alone. I don't want to walk on eggshells every single time I come back to sleep.

This is supposed to be a place I can feel safe! I should be able to relax and breathe a sigh of relief when I get back to the dorm! But no.

My schedule revolves around my roommates. I can't go to sleep too late or I'll wake them up. I can't sleep too early or they'll keep me up. I can't wake up too early because, again, I'll wake them up. I can't wake up too late or I'll be late for my own commitments. If I wake up at the same time as them, then not only can I not use the toilet, but I have to brush my teeth in the kitchen where other people, who I don't talk to by the way, might be making breakfast.

Lights can't be on, curfew is annoying, RAs can just waltz in whenever they want. I can't do my laundry when I want to. I can't take a shower when I want to. I can't cook, use the restroom, clean, sleep, have online calls, wake up, eat, work, or just chill when or where I want. I have to be ready to hear them vent to me about their day, every day, unless they're asleep. And we've established why I shouldn't do that.

I hate that my laundry days don't have a schedule anymore. I had to do my laundry in the bathtub for crying out loud. I hate that I can't choose when I wake up or go to sleep. I hate that I can't deep clean the room whenever I want. I hate that there's always a mess that I didn't make and I'm expected to clean it or I get cited.

I hate that I have to be ready to socialize no matter what. I hate that I have to be so quiet all the time. I hate that I can't work at my desk. I hate that I had to start doing work in the worlds most uncomfortable chair because I can't work when my roommate is sleeping.

I hate that I could get dragged out any moment, I hate how she never listens to me, I hate how she forgets everything I tell her, I hate how she pretends like I have no clue what I'm saying when I've done EXACTLY what she needs help with.

Why is my advice not good enough? Do I seem so unreliable that you're not willing to change ONE SETTING on a camera because the only pictures I've ever taken were for crime scenes? I don't like how frustrated I am, but I don't think I know what else to do.

I know my roommates aren't at fault. But I think if I hear one more explanation of drama I don't care about, a story I already heard six times, or an explanation of something elementary that I have years of experience in, I'm going to break something.

There's only so much overreacting I can take. Why do they ask me questions when they're just going to ask them again, like I didn't say anything literally thirty seconds ago?

I'm so tired of performing constantly. I'm so, so tired. I want out. I've had enough. It doesn't matter where I go or what I do, all day, every day, 24/7, I will never be less than 10 feet away from another person. I'm sick of it. I'm SO. SICK.

I want to hit something so badly. I want to scream and cry and yell and slam the door closed and shut off the lights so everything can just STOP. STOP HAPPENING. I DON'T CARE I DON'T CARE I DON'T CARE.

I just want control over SOMETHING. Please, I'm begging. I hate being here. I hate living like this.

I know I sound so privileged. Oh boo hoo I have a roof over my head and a way to cook food that I have and a way to clean myself. Woe is me, I have decent roommates.

I don't even know anymore. I just want to have a routine. One that I have a say in. I want to have the option of eating in my dorm. I don't want people staring at my back while I work. I don't want to have to tiptoe around just so I can keep them from seeing media they don't like.

I'm surprised I haven't broken down yet. Genuinely. I'm not a violent person. Far from it. But wow, I've never wanted to break something more than I have for the past few months.

I'm so excited to graduate. I don't care what happens, where I go, so long as it's not here. So long as I can use the bathroom whenever I want and set my alarm as whatever I want to.

I can only pray that I don't say or do something I'll regret by the end of the semester.

[waltswhatever]

as much as i hated him, sometimes i really miss my dad on nights like these

for such a long time it felt like he was the only person i could cry in front of and not feel horrible for doing so

my mother doesn't know how to handle me when i'm upset, she kind of just tries to change the subject in an attempt to cheer me up, and i feel so shameful being vulnerable to my boyfriend, i feel like i can't cry in front of him, that i just. shouldn't, that im not allowed to be upset because of how i've hurt him before even if that's not true

i miss you, dad, i'm sorry i spent your final months so angry with you, even if you deserved it

i just want a hug from someone stronger than me again who will lie and tell me it's gonna be okay and that i am pretty and that i'm loved and that i can stay there as long as i need to and that they don't care if im getting their shirt wet

i wish i knew how to have that with mom, i wish i knew how to help her, her coworker feels like her son more than i do, do i get my emotional estrangement from her? why is it so much easier to bond with strangers?

i miss you dad, i miss you, so much

wherever you are i hope you're learning from everything you may and may not have done, and i'm sorry to say i've made some of the same mistakes, but god, i kind of understand now how someone gets to that point - i never told mom, but she found out on her own

how you work on something for years and years and years and you're just not as happy as you make them and you feel like giving up

how your body stops working right all too soon and nothing feels good and your partner tries, but it just isn't enough, and you are so fucking unhappy all the time and it feels like it's all your fault

take me with you, i'm so tired, i wanna go back to my family dammit, i know mom loves me but it's different, we're like ghosts sharing an apartment

i miss my dad so much. i shouldn't but i do, i'm 20 fucking years old, it's been almost 8 years since you died, why does the pain only get worse? anticipatory grief?

where will i go? will i see you, and will we both be suffering if that's where you ended up? would it be worth it to finally see some kind of comfort again after so long, still suffering, but finally with a sense of familiarity and instinctive comfort, or will it just be like looking at a bloated corpse in a wooden box and a funeral that i barely remember all over again?

i'm so tired dad, i'm so tired, please tell me it's going to be okay, somehow, i'm so tired

you said before if someone wants to kill themself, you let them - were you speaking from your experience? would you have said the same if you knew i was suicidal? i don't know if mom ever really talked to you about the cutting, im sorry

you'd be ashamed of me now, i think, i'm nothing like what you expected - not your baby girl, not even a girl, not skinny, not pretty, or traditional at all

please, god, if you somehow saw aunt liz, tell her i miss her and that she always did a great job when i was a kid, that she was so kind to take us in after the fire on such short notice, that she was always so sweet and patient with me, even when i was a brat- i wish covid hadn't robbed me of my goodbye to her

the more i look back on the past the more i realized how much i dealt with so young and why im this damaged - a kid didn't need to go through all of that

i know you guys didn't intend for that, but god, that house was a nightmare

a flea bitten 11 year old kid just running around willy nilly in filth, trying their best to live a normal life, but never really being able to share too much about what's going on at home, being taught that i can't have people over because of the state of the house

it was awful and yet i miss it

a dirty mattress was somehow so comfortable, i wasn't in nearly as much pain as i am these days, i still cried, but eventually i got to fall asleep, at least

i still eat beefaroni straight from the can when i don't want to cook, or just plain cheese - how was scavenging in the filth better than this?

i have so much now and the more i think about it the more it feels like i've just lost everything over time

please, take me with you, i'm so tired, or at least somehow, please, tell me, let me see you again, tell me that it's going to be okay, tell me what to do, you and mom were never the life lesson type but i could really use that right now dad

you were supposed to always be there for me, i know you might not've actually wanted to make me, but everyone said you were a loving father- i still believed it in some ways, even if you weren't always nice to me for my mistakes

i just am so exhausted, you were 63 - how did you manage 3x this amount of life without giving up sooner? did you give up, was it just a really slow death?

i'd rather make it fast than do that, i'm old enough to purchase the means to my end

it'd be so easy to just put one through my head - i bet i could still figure out the safety mechanism without reading the instructions, from what you taught me

i never thought i'd miss the fact that one of my parents tried that hard to bond with me and be somewhat present in my interests

even if it was sick

i'm so pathetic, i'm 20 fucking years old crying about a man nearly a decade dead, it feels like grief never ends

please just give me a sign dad, please

[searous]

The Girl in the Mirror #06 - Nightmare

| October 27st, 2023

The girl, um, Kinsey, showed up in my nightmare last night. It was the same until I opened the closet. She was standing there instead of that thing. She flipped the breaker back on saying "Don't worry Amy, I got this one for you". What the hell is going on with me, am I really starting to dream about her? I guess I did just make her up, so I guess that makes since.

Managed to move back with my parents. They're just as bad as I remember. Yelling, demanding, threatening, the like. At least its no rent so I guess that's how I pay. I pay in all the tears I soak my pillow with everynight before bed.

THe nightmares are so much worse its almost every night. More vivid too. I can feel that thing's claws in my back for hours after I wake up. All I can think about is how much I want to cry, I'm so tired of all of this.

I'm starting to get thoughts of cutting myself again. I thought I was past this, I haven't since highschool. I hope I don't, I really hope I don't, I have enough scars from the back then already.

Still looking for a job, but nothing. My parents keep pestering me about and reminding me that "this is only temparary" and "we can't let you stay here forever you know". I hate them so much. I'm trying, i'm trying so hard. Harder than most. At this point it's almost al i cn do to get out of bedd in the morning. I wish i could jus wake up as someone else, a new life, withouta ll this going on without all the pain without all the everything. i hate it, i hate myself, i hate verything. I'm sor tired. I just want this to be over. Someone please help me