#it will not leave my room. there is no way to kill it because it is too high above me wherever it lands.

[beloveds-embrace]

Hello! Thank you for feeding us the angstier timeline of the dukedom au!! I live for angst

You don’t have to entertain this thought ofc, the angst and how good you write for my brain worms worming. I just can’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if König wasn’t there and instead the duchess had to suffer all on her own

(Or better yet, if he was there but ended up also leaving the duchess for someone else or was killed protecting the duchess)

Reader having to endure everything on her own which eventually leads her to falling terribly ill and in the olden times we all know how a simple cold could turn into more and yield deadly results

The stress combined with the overall lack of appetite (and the food not cooked well at times to add to that… more angst (: ) as well as other factors rendered the reader terribly ill

Maybe she fell into a body of water and had to save herself, or maybe she was caught up in a rainy storm on a walk with no one offering her warm clothing or a cover up until she eventually managed to get back that leads to pneumonia

Maybe she gets injured but hides it until the blood loss gets to her and infection sets in

Just so many options and flavours of angst

Anyway, thank you for sharing your writing with us! Agin, you don’t have to engage with this, so please don’t feel pressured!! I’m just having many thoughts and am currently going feral /pos

WAITTT WAIT I LOVE THIS

Because imagine clinging to König, to your one singular source of comfort in a manor that has no room for you, and in the end, he leaves as well.

You had been telling yourself that you had been simply more imaginative lately; König was simply busy, he wasn’t growing more and more distant! The way he looks at you now compard to before hasn’t changed. At all. His responses were in hums and nods, noncommittal but that’s okay, sometimes you did not feel like speaking- like existing- either.

Until he stands in your office, the light from the windows reflecting off his armour. You had been happy to see him, a smile on your lips to be in the company of the only one who didn’t seem to despise you.

When he tells you that he will not be doing this anymore, it feels, for a very split second, like your heart shatters into a thousand tiny pieces. You can feel the shattering of each, single piece.

Better place. He says, pity in his eyes but no regret. He pauses for a second. I wish… the best for you.

König leaves you like that; staring after his back in abject horror. Every step he takes echoes in your ears, until you are left alone in your office, hands trembling, and your ears ringing.

After that day, everything practically crumbled. You crumbled.

Without him, the weight of your isolation became unbearable. The disdain of the household grew sharper once it became known your only solace was no longer there, the whispers more cutting. Meals came cold, uneaten. Sleep eluded you, and the constant stress gnawed away at your strength.

One fateful day, you went outside in a desperate bid to escape the suffocation. The air was crisp, the sky gray with the promise of rain, and yet you still did not turn back. You wandered farther than you intended, your steps aimless even as the first drops began to fall.

The storm came quickly afterwards, drenching you to the bone. Your thin cloak offered little protection, and the chill seeped deep into your skin. By the time you returned, trembling and soaked, no one was waiting to help you. No fire had been lit in your chambers; no warm blanket was offered, and no company was given.

The fever began that very night, burning through you with a strength that left you bedridden. Days passed in a haze of pain and delirium. The wound you had hidden- an injury from your fall in the storm- festered, the infection spreading rapidly through your weakened body. You hadn’t the strength to call for help, nor the faith that anyone would come even if you did hoarse out your voice in your attempts.

Only when your condition worsened and you really, truly disappeared out of view, the household finally took notice. Whispers swirled, faint echoes beyond the fog of your fading consciousness, and everyone became alert of your absence, meals returned untouched and maids reporting it’s weeks since they’d helped you with anything.

John sat in his study, nursing a glass of whiskey as the fire crackled in the hearth. He told himself your absence didn’t matter- that you were retreating because you’d finally realized the truth. But when he closed his eyes, he saw your face as it had been on your wedding day- hopeful, trusting, and unaware of the coldness that would greet you.

Simon found himself pacing the halls around your room more often than usual. He would glance toward your chambers but never step inside, convincing himself it wasn’t his concern. And yet, something about the silence unsettled him.

Johnny had begun to notice the meals sent to your chambers were left untouched, the plates returned barely touched or sometimes not taken at all. He hadn’t cared at first, dismissing it as you sulking because no one was giving you attention. But now the thought lingered- had you even been eating at all?

Even Kyle, with his sharp tongue and sharper gaze, felt the unease creeping in. He found himself hesitating when passing your door, his usual indifference cracking as guilt gnawed at him.

In the end, it’s Kyle who couldn’t stand the silence anymore. He stepped into your room, telling himself it was simply to prove to himself that you were fine and just- sulking.

The sight stopped him cold.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn, and the air heavy with the faint, sour scent of illness. You lay motionless on the bed, your body shockingly frail, your skin damp with fever. Your hair clung to your forehead, and your breathing was shallow, each breath rattling in your chest.

You didn’t even notice him. Not even when he turned around and barked sharply for John, for a doctor now. You didn’t notice him at all. Not him, not John or Simon or Johnny when they appear while the maids run to get the doctor.

(Kyle will never tell anyone how utterly sick he felt upon seeing the dried tear-tracks on your face. The unfinished, rotten meals near the bed. The tear spots on your pillows. He will never, ever forget today. He doubts any of the others will be able to do so, either.)

[poguehearted77]

Imagine y’all just had the fight of your lives (maybe over his dumb gun or something equally Rafe), but later when you’re lying on opposite sides of the bed, he reaches out and pulls you close and says somthing cute or annoying idk And then, oh my GOD—it’s slow, emotional, and HOT because making up with Rafe would be next-level intense. please i NEEED😫😩

OH MY GOD YES. SOME SWEET RAFE AND EVEN SWEETER MAKE UP SEX AFTER A HUGE FIGHT. NEED IT.

#2 from my drabble game

smut: penetrative sex, some praise, I love you's, unprotected sex

Rafe is in deep shit.

You know that, he knows that-- hell, even your pet beagle, Poppy knew it. For once, she bolted away the moment the front door opened, and your oh-so-handsome, conniving and deceitful boyfriend walked in instead of running towards him.

Rafe is a dead man walking. How ironic would it be if he were to die at your hands with the very same gun he'd promised you he'd gotten rid of.

His body goes rigid when he sees the weapon in your palm. A nervous gulp falls down his throat as he does his best to stand tall. "Where did you get that?" That's what he asks you, he should've never opened his mouth.

You scoff immediately, carelessly angling it around as your upset mannerisms control your arms. "Get it? You mean where did I find it." He doesn't respond which is a wise choice.

"Mr. Montogommery called me earlier, he was looking for you--said you weren't answering your phone. He asked me to leave you a message," You're pacing now, and it made Rafe nervous. You're a little crazy, but so was he. It's why you went so well together.

"Like the good girlfriend I am, I opened your office drawer for a sticky note to leave on your desk, but what did I find? The same gun you told me would never be back in the house, Rafe are you serious?!" Your arms are flailing and he's half-certain he'll catch a stray by the end of the conversation.

He steps towards you with his hands up cautiously, "Baby, give me the gun, and we can talk about this." You snap, "No! Why should I? You don't trust me with it? Why because it's dangerous? Because it could kill you! You're right, Rafe. Why didn't I think of that sooner--oh wait, I did! And you fucking lied to me, Rafe."

Your voice is enraged and bouncing off the ivory-panelled walls of the house but it dies down to a shaky one as tears threaten to spill over the brims of your eyes. "Y/n-" He holds his hand out for you, but you give him the gun instead.

You execute a sharp pivot on the tips of your toes, ready to walk away from him but he finally speaks up and you stop--not turning around, standing still, anticipating. "I'm not getting rid of the gun." It's all he says.

Had you been in the mood, you would've turned around, lounged at him and strangled him, but no, you just kept walking.

Your bedroom is freezing that night, despite it being the middle of summer, and it only gets colder everytime you glance towards Rafe as he gets ready for the bed you begrudgingly shared.

Your expression remains sour, even in your sleep, no matter how far away from your boyfriend you are. There's enough room to fit a full-grown adult between you. The isolation was holding the production of your melatonin hostage, forcing you both to lay awake, backs facing each other but hearts reaching out.

Rafe flips onto his side, staring longingly at the back of your frame. He missed you and you were right in front of him. "Baby," His voice is soft, and the pet name lands on you gently, a testament that your anger has subsided a bit.

You turn over, choosing to lie on your back and face the ceiling. You deem that he's undeserving to see your face at the moment. "I've got another gun in my nightstand." You blamed your miscomprehension on the late hours of the night because surely he did not just say what you think he said.

Rafe can see the way your chest began to rise and fall at a much more shallow pace, he had about five seconds to start explaining before you turned on him. "I told you about my past. I've done some bad things. 'Burying the hatchet' doesn't exist for everyone, and I want to be prepared for anything. When I look at a gun now, it's not a weapon anymore, it's a tool. It's protection."

Your breathing slowed, a little. He takes it as a good sign. "I can't lose you. If something happened to you when I could've prevented it, I'd never forgive myself, and I know you know that." He's right. You did know that. He dedicated his life to you, making sure that you knew that. "I shouldn't have lied about getting rid of it, and I'm sorry."

Your breathing returns to its normal pace. You lay on your side, now facing him. "Fine." Rafe scoots closer to you, a small grin working its way on his lips. "Fine?" You nod, "Yeah, fine. I forgive you, this time, but don't you ever pull some shit like this again or so help me god I will-" He quiets you with a sweet kiss.

Well, it started sweet at least.

Now you're both watching him slide in. Your warm cunt wrapped around his length delightfully. "You're fuckin' perfect, too good f'me." He groans into your ear. His muscular arms cage you in, and you've decided you'd be more than happy to die between them.

Your soft moans bounced off his brawny chest and right back in your face, "Feels so good, Rafe-" Yougaspedp as he picked up the pace, hips rolling into yours for a much deeper angle. Your back arches off the bed slightly as sweat rolls down your back and sticks to the sheets.

It wasn't long before you were both chasing your highs. Rafe always sounded so fucking hot when he was close, his deep groans pitching up to breathless whines when you purposefully clenched around him, threatening him to fill you up unrestrained. Once you came, he pulled out and finished on your heaving stomach, catching your breath.

He doesn't get off of you just yet. He balances himself on one forearm as the other hand comes up to gently move the strands of hair from your face, "I love you," he means it, his eyes say it when his mouth does. "I love you".

[kinzhae]

"Left Behind."

Gojo x Reader, angst with no comfort, reader and gojo drifts away as they enter jujutsu high, being left behind, reader sacrificing her life in order to keep gojo safe.

The first time Satoru left you behind, you brushed it off.

“Gojo Satoru is going to change the world,” you told yourself, smiling as you watched him walk off with Suguru Geto and Shoko Ieiri, his laughter echoing down the hall. His carefree attitude was infectious, and while you were happy for him, it hurt to know that you weren’t part of that laughter anymore.

It hadn’t always been this way. You and Satoru were inseparable once, bound by childhood promises and shared dreams. Back then, the world wasn’t complicated, and neither was he. The cocky smile he wore now was once reserved just for you.

But Jujutsu High changed everything.

---

You noticed the shift slowly. It started with missed conversations—whispers in the hallway you weren’t invited into, a glance over your shoulder to see him too far behind to call out to. Satoru didn’t mean to push you away. You knew that. But as his new friendships deepened, it became clear that your bond wasn’t the unbreakable connection you once thought it was.

Suguru was kind, brilliant, and calm—the perfect foil to Satoru’s chaotic energy. Shoko had a quiet wit that matched his sharp tongue. Together, the three of them felt untouchable, like the rest of the world could only stand by and watch as they carved their own path.

You were no longer part of that world. You tried to let go, you really did.

Even as the ache settled in your chest, you told yourself it was enough to simply watch him thrive. If Satoru was happy, wasn’t that all that mattered? You repeated those words like a mantra, trying to ignore the sting when he barely noticed you anymore.

It wasn’t his fault.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault.

But the cracks in your heart didn’t care for reason.

One day, everything changed. You were heading back to the dorms after a long day of training when you overheard the conversation.

Two voices in the shadows.

One familiar, one chillingly foreign.

“Gojo Satoru. The Six Eyes... He’s too dangerous to keep alive,” hissed the first voice—a higher-up whose name you didn’t dare utter. “The balance he disrupts, the power he wields... If he continues unchecked, no one will be able to control him.”

“And what do you propose?” growled the second voice, raspy and cold. It wasn’t human.

You froze, your blood running cold as you peeked around the corner.

“I want him gone. Do it cleanly. I’ll ensure you have what you need—resources, bodies, whatever it takes. Just make it happen.”

The curse smiled, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. “Consider it done.”

Your world tilted.

They were going to kill him.

Satoru.

The boy who laughed too loudly, who stood by you even when the world felt too heavy, who once promised you that you’d always be by his side.

You had already been left behind. But you wouldn’t lose him. Not like this.

That night, you sought out the curse.

Its presence was suffocating, the weight of its aura pressing down on you as it materialized in front of you.

“And what do you want, little sorcerer?” it sneered.

“My life,” you said, your voice steady despite the terror clawing at your throat. “Take my life, my powers—anything. Just leave Satoru alone.”

The curse’s laughter echoed around you, harsh and mocking. “Anything, you say? Bold. And what makes you think I’ll honor such a deal?”

“Because if you don’t,” you said, lifting your chin, “I’ll make sure you regret it.”

A lie, of course. You were no match for it. But the curse seemed amused enough to agree.

“Very well. Your life for his. But once the deal is struck, there’s no turning back.”

“I know.”

As the curse’s claws reached out, you closed your eyes, picturing Satoru’s smile one last time.

You disappeared that night.

No one saw you leave. No one even knew why. You left behind nothing but questions and an empty dorm room, your name slipping further from their lips as the days turned into weeks, then months.

Satoru didn’t notice at first. You hadn’t been close lately, after all. But as time passed, he started to feel the absence.

It was subtle at first—a glance around the training field, expecting to see you standing at the edge, watching with a small smile. Then came the ache, the nagging sense that something was missing. He asked Shoko, then Suguru. Neither had seen you.

When he went to your room, it was stripped bare, as if you had never existed.

Satoru wasn’t the sentimental type, but the emptiness you left behind gnawed at him. He tried to brush it off—he was Gojo Satoru, after all. He didn’t dwell on things. He didn’t need to.

But late at night, when the silence grew too loud, he found himself thinking of you. Of your smile. Of the way you used to scold him when he pushed himself too hard. Of the way you had always been there, steady and unshakable, even when the rest of the world felt like it was slipping out of control.

He searched. Of course he searched.

But you were gone.

---

Satoru never stopped looking. Not really. Even years later, long after the grief had settled into something dull and hollow, he still found himself scanning crowds, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.

He told himself it was guilt—guilt for letting you slip away, for not noticing how far apart you had grown. But deep down, he knew it was more than that.

He had left you behind.

And he would never forgive himself for it.

[zaine-m]

I like to think that Jayce and Viktor get a happy ending in the other universe too

Jayce feels awful that hextech took a life. Especially seeing powder (who is around the same age he was when him and his mom were saved by hextech) holding her dead sister's body

He says similar things as in the start of the trial but now fully meaning them and never mentions trying to create magic

Vander comes to Jayce's trial and stands up for him, saying he's just a stupid kid with a dream to help people who didn't know what he was doing

"Vi's with her mom now, let Jayce go home to his"

He does still sneak into his lab to attempt suicide but this time Viktor's "am I interrupting?" doesn't do anything, Jayce just turns back around and jumped, not being able to handle the guilt of accidentally taking a life while also realizing his life's work only caused harm

He survives the attempt and wakes up in a hospital bed, paralyzed from the waist down with his mother crying next to him

Viktor comes in a bit later while his mom is out making some food for him

His tone is completely too cold for the situation. Jayce is in complete despair and Viktor refuses to match the mood

He says most of the same stuff about how hextech can change people's lives but Jayce responds "yeah, well so far all it's done is a take the life of an innocent child"

"ehh, she was from the undercity. I grew up there, many children did not live to see adulthood"

"How does that make anything better?"

"Because this has the potential to change that. One explosion? There are toxic fumes and polluted waters slowly killing hundreds of children each year"

"Even if I wanted to I'm banned from the academy and ..." *waves at legs*

"pshh, you think trenchers are supposed to be at the academy and everything I did in my life I did while being disabled"

"Listen, I can't help you"

Viktor leaves Jayce's bracelet by his bed and heads towards the door. Jayce takes one look at it and throw it across the room in anger. "you probably shouldn't throw that", "GET OUT!"

A while later Vander comes to invite Jayce to Vi's memorial at the last drop

Jayce feels so guilty when he first comes into the last drop, everyone is staring at him

He sees Ekko, the kind little kid who had sold him such reasonably prices wares just days before his experiments accidentally killed his friend

Powder just starting going at him when she first sees him, her weak child-who-has-never-punched-before fists do very little damage especially because she's going so fast she doesn't fully pull her hands back

Jayce just lets her at it, crying and apologizing between the blows

Vander comes to pull Powder off of him, "it wasn't his fault, he didn't know how dangerous the materials were" she just looks back and screams at him before going back to her bedroom

Vander takes Jayce on a walk through the undercity to talk,

"Everyone in there knew what I did?"

"huh, no?"

"they were looking at me like I was a monster"

"yeah, that's cause you're dressed like a piltie"

"ohh, ha... I'm so sorry about what happened to Vi"

"It's a shame, but she's with her parents now"

*Jayce looks down, only feeling worse finding out the girl he killed was an orphan*

"You want to know how her parents died?" *they arrive at the bridge* "I thought I could help the undercity, create a better world by fighting for sovereignty. I led us across this bridge and lost so many people in the process, the undercity is still recovering"

"I'm so sorry"

"I was like you, I was young and ambitious and I wanted to help people. But you know what I learned. You don't need to make giant leaps to help the people around you"

On the way back Vander points out all the ways he's helped different people in the undercity, helping them make a business plan, caring for their kids when they were sick, helping them find a community at the last drop

He also points out all the things that could be helped like roofs with holes in them and cliffs that should have railings

"You don't need hextech to help the world, Jayce"

Jayce spends his time between his family's forge doing hammer work and around the undercity working as a handyman, building what he can to help people

Eventually he tracks down Viktor, hoping to find ways to make a more systemic change for things like the dirty water and polluted air

Viktor works on studies surveying the living conditions of those in the undercity and seeing what affects it has on expected lifespan and the likelihood of developing different diseases to present to the council

That along with the more pro-Zaun push that's been happening since Vi's death he gets quite a bit of work done

While he's doing this Jayce does what he can to start implementing changes by making water filters and distributing masks to those in the slump levels

After a few years Jayce petitions to be let back into the academy to help Viktor with his work on a formal level and with outstanding testimonials from many people in the undercity he's let back in

When their work making the undercity safer is done they move onto studying how to treat the various illnesses people in the undercity have suffered from living there

first starting with Viktor's various physical health issues and finding that a lot of his issues come from it never being studied how to use mobility aids and how improper use can put a strain on other parts of your body so he switched to a forearm crutch to help his back

I'm gonna say in this universe Viktor just has severe asthma which they're able to find medicines to treat so he still has issues breathing in a lot of the undercity, he just wears a mask most of the time and keeps his medication with him

Viktor and Jayce end up dating but it happens to slowly that it's hard to realize, they just spend all their time together working on their research and then they get an apartment together because they were both looking for roommates

Jayce stopped looking for people to date after the accident because he was going through a big life change and never got back in the game and Viktor always rejected anyone, saying he was too busy with his studies

Jayce is just physically affectionate in a way where hugging Viktor a lot turns into Viktor sitting on his lap whenever his leg is sore turns into Jayce playing with Viktor's hair when he's bored turns into them cuddling on the couch turns into them cuddling in bed turns into kisses on the forehead when one of them is sick turns into kisses when they're not sick

They're at the last drop one day and Viktor gets up off Jayce's lap to use with washroom and Vander asks Jayce, "so you think you'll propose soon" Jayce almost spits out his food, "what, what do you mean?"

"I mean you've been dating for like what 5 years now. You gotta pop the question sooner or later"

"umm... yeah" wait fuck are we dating, have we been dating for 5 years, what

In bed that night: "Viktor, I... I think I might like you... like romantically. I guess I never thought about it but I was talking to Vander and... and you've been the most important person in my life for the past like 6 years"

"Jayce, I thought we were dating? How are you only realizing this now"

"ohh"

"I called you my partner"

"I thought you meant like research partner"

"we kissed a lot"

"I thought those were like just for comfort... between friends"

*Viktor kisses him passionately but not the most passionately they've kissed before*

"Does that seem like it would be between friends?"

"heh, now that you mention it I guess not"

[auroras-zenith]

what doesn't kill you // part 5

you had your whole life planned out for you; start an agency with your best friend, scale the charts and make japan your bitch. but when a tragic accident leaves you incapacitated and out of a job, you find you just need to start fresh. you cut ties–and for two years, you've all but disappeared. until they need you again and come knocking at your door.

bakugo x retiredpro!reader

prologue ✧ previous ✧ next

"Where are you going?"

You stilled. Your instincts were alert as ever, and yet, you couldn't whip around the way you might've had you not been in this stupid wheelchair.

"I can't tell you that." You said quietly, ears trained on who you knew to be Jirou behind you.

But turning would give her the impression that this was up for debate–and it wasn't, so you kept your head facing strictly forward.

"You won't get far."

The scoff that escaped you was angry at the surface, but mostly just hurt below that. "Who'll stop me? They don't want me anymore, Jirou."

You refused to cave, but your shoulders wilted inward slightly at the admission. "My own partner can't look at me anymore."

Her footsteps were quiet as she moved to your desk, picking up a picture frame containing an old photo of you and Bakugo.

"He's just–"

"Processing? Yeah. Shoto said the same thing. And Izuku. And Kirishima. Along with pretty much everyone else we know." You mumbled scornfully. "But you want to know what Katsuki said?"

"Nothing. He's said nothing."

She sighed, staring at your happy faces. She set the photo down.

"Fine." Moving to the door, you assumed that she was leaving.

You returned to packing, a new weight on your shoulders as you did so. "How'd you find me?" You had to know before she left.

"The same way he'll find you, the minute he comes to his senses." She shrugged, making her way to your kitchen. "I'm going to have Chamomile! You want some?" She called.

She wasn't leaving? "Wha- no?" You mumbled, confused.

The clothes in your hands were set down and forgotten once more as you hurried to make your way to her–cussing as the bulky wheelchair refused to move the way your legs used to.

"How's that? And how did you get in?" The wheels turned clumsily as you entered the room, finding her sitting on your counter next to a boiling kettle.

Purple eyes followed you, unreadable as they seemed to analyze your every move.

"You were the fourth ranked hero of Japan, L/n. You think the hero commission doesn't know where you live? I'm the nineteenth ranked hero. You think I can't get a key made?"

That... was a fair point that you had not thought of before.

Would he really change his mind?

Not that that was the point. The point was of course that you now had a new problem to consider.

"But I'm not fourth anymore. I'm just a crippled civilian, as far as the commission is concerned. As far as anyone is concerned. Once I move, their information will be outdated." You challenged with a frown.

The kettle began to whistle loudly. "I can't tell if you really believe that." She said with a shake of her head as she poured her water. "Just because you're out now doesn't mean they'll stop keeping tags on you. The only people they don't have their little hooks sunken into are the people who fought to have them removed."

Hooks of your own were being shot straight into her back–except they were more like daggers because she was so doing this on purpose.

"Dude, if you know how I can get my info wiped, just tell me."

A white cup was in her hand as she turned back around. You fought the urge to flinch.

That was his cup.

The one only he was allowed to drink out of. The one that he had gotten you a couple years ago as a gift to himself. The one that he left here for all the late nights and early mornings the two of you would need a warm glass of tea to stay awake together.

You shoved the thought away, fighting to stay present. Deal with the more important issue.

"You can't." She looked apologetic.

"Wait- what?"

"You can't." She repeated, turning back around and adding her sweetener and milk to the tea. "It... it takes rank."

Oh. Right. Rank. Rank that bestowed authority. Rank like being the fourth prohero of Japan. Rank you no longer held.

You cleared your throat, taking a deep breath. The world was making it very hard for you to run away.

You were both silent for a moment.

"You have plenty of money."

The words were quiet. Tentative. Testing the waters and offering another option.

"You don't need to work another day in your life. You have no need for hero work anyway."

Your head was shaking no before you were conscious of it. "I can't stay here Jirou." Voice shaky, it was your turn to turn away.

A loud sigh echoed through the room.

The silence that followed it was louder.

"I know."

The ceramic cup made a quiet clink as it was set on the table. Next thing you knew, warm arms enveloped you as she kneeled before you.

This time, the silence was not so abrasive. Rather, soothing.

"I'm going to get you out of here." She whispered gently in your ear, not breaking the embrace. "I'm so sorry this is happening to you. And I really, really wish that you could stay. Wish that we could've gotten to know each other better."

When she finally pulled away, the warmth she'd brought stayed with you. Her hands continued to rest on your arms as she backed away just far enough to look you in the eye.

"But I'm here to help you. You just have to trust me, okay?"

Could you really do that? In your current state? When you had just lost the person you had trusted most in the world and the scars were still so fresh?

You stared at her, searching for any sign of dishonesty or reason for mistrust in her eyes.

"Okay." You decided when you found none. You could.

a/n: sorry i missed the update yesterday 😭 ily all 🥺

taglist: @floverisland @biancatomlinson @rosaryia @highlandhyena @sarashu @rednicotine @emmaiscool22 @your-mum3000 @whoreforfictionalmen18 @sikuthealien @thefirst-ofus @harryzcherry

permanent tags: @phtmmsqrde @pikachuzhc @stabbygabyy @frosted-flakes @didibanini

[mullermilkshake]

Heeey, I few days ago i found your blog and I'm absolutely obsessed with your Yakuza!AU, and I was wondering if we can get more of Yakuza Suguru <3

Love your posts btw💞

Thanks so much!!! That's so kind of you to say, I'm literally so obsessed with the AU and there will be TONS of content to come over the next year.

I love Yakuza!Suguru so much it hurts XD

Enjoy some fluffy stuff <3

A gold band

Yakuza!Suguru x Wife!reader Tags: Yakuza AU, Wife reader, Fem reader, twin children, daughters, fluff, guilt, established relationship.

Suguru fiddled with the gold wedding band on his ring finger as the car pulled up to the house outside of Shinkuju. He was running far more than late than he anticipated, by now he was sure the girls were tucked into bed and you were waiting up for him fuming for missing dinner.

How on earth was he going to make up for this?

"Anything else you need before I go, sir?"

"No, that'll be all for tonight Miguel. Be sure to pick me up in the morning to visit the Nanami office though, you know how he likes punctuality."

Suguru opened the car door by himself and slipped out, eyeing the dingy night sky behind a torrent of dark stormed clouds just waiting to unleash its pressure over Tokyo.

Miguel leaned over and wound the window down. "Of course, should I bring breakfast?"

"No, I think I'll have breakfast with my girls in the morning, so just get what you want and head over after. Thanks for everything tonight."

"Sure thing, goodnight."

As the car drove away, Suguru drew in an anxious breath and adjusted the cuffs of his suit. By the time on his watch he had neglected to read on purpose as it would only make things worse, the time read way past the appropriate time to eat.

The depressive point being that by now, Suguru wasn't even hungry any more.

She's going to kill me for this, isn't she? Maybe. But that wouldn't be all that bad, because then he wouldn't have to deal with all this drama currently within the Ryomen clan to his name.

It couldn't be so bad to have his neck squeezed he supposed.

When he approached the front door, it was already unlocked. That wasn't ever a good sign. The lights were off besides the low table lamp in the living area, amber in the corner with warmth, and there you were sitting on the sofa with Mimiko and Nanako resting their sleeping heads on your lap.

"They wanted to wait for you to get back. Nanako threw an absolute fit because you weren't there to read them a story, so I compromised that they could wait."

"I'm sorry, dear. I never intended to be this late."

He knelt down in front of you and took your hand, feeling the same gold band on the same finger. Your body warmed it through, practically burning away at his guilt for leaving you sitting there in an empty room for dinner.

"It's alright, Miguel is quite the charmer when he wants to be," your smile was devious, more likely enough to show that Suguru wasn't in the dog house.

Thank goodness.

"I bet he can, I told him as much to tell you in person that I would be late. I'm counting on that he got his fill of dinner while he was here?"

You nodded slowly, watching the girls sleep. "He spent a little time with he girls before he was called away to the club."

The club was something he didn't need reminding of. The break in, the calculated theft and all round fuckery with Ryomen Sukuna's expectations.

Not tonight.

"So he was fooling around when he should have been working? I'll have him reprimanded immediately."

You stifled your laughter at his sarcasm, pressing your finger to his lips. "Leave the poor man alone."

The fact was Miguel loved the girls. Mimiko and Nanako adored him just as much and by this point in Suguru's life, Miguel was far more than just a fellow Yakuza.

He was true family.

"Daddy?" Nanako rubbed her little eyes and yawed, shifting her head from your lap to sit up and dangle her legs over the edge of the sofa.

"Hello Princess," He opened out his arms and pulled her into an embrace as she leant forward into him. "I heard you gave Mama a hard time when you had to sleep."

Her sleepy little head drooped suddenly as she fought to stay awake. "You were far away... and you promised to read us our book."

"I did, didn't I? I'm sorry I couldn't be there."

"So I ate your cake."

"My cake?"

Scooping Mimiko up who was long since passed out in her heavy dreamed sleep, you watched Suguru stand with such a nurturing smile. "I made cheesecake. The girls demolished it and almost nipped Miguels fingers off. He was lucky to even get a slice."

"I missed cheesecake?"

He missed your matcha cheesecake for that travesty at the club? Your special cheesecake that was his absolute favourite?

Nanako stretched sleepily and clung to his neck. "Uh huh..."

Maybe it was time for Suguru to leave his Yakuza life behind and just beg you to open up a sweet shop so he could taste your baking every day. It was a hell of a lot safer. Though one shop wouldn't pay for this house or the best of everything for his girls.

A pipe dream was better than nothing.

Suguru led the way to the stairs and took each step with you following close behind him. "How about this then? I'll make sure I'm home really early tomorrow and we'll go to the children's park."

"I love the park..." Mimiko's eyes rolled open, she clutched her little doll and snuggled into the crook of your neck.

"I know you do sweetheart, if you two sleep well then maybe you can do that with Daddy tomorrow. But only if you both go back to sleep and be good," you nuzzled back into her and brought your lips to her hair for sweet consecutive pecks.

"We are good... Mama," Nanako's words began to slur.

And by the time you and Suguru reached the girls bedroom, they were out in dreamland once more. They clung to their blankets and toys sprawled across their covers and balled up close with delicate snores and breaths.

Suguru could have watched them all night snoozing away innocently, totally unaware of the horrors and disgusting shit out in the Shinjuku district.

All the unspeakable things their own Father had done.

"Don't do that."

"Hmm?" Suguru turned to see you leaving the bedroom.

"That thing you do when you feel guilty about what you do for a living. Whenever the time comes and they find out, they'll still love you. Just like I do."

"I know you do, just like you always have. I just can't help but wonder what we'll be like in fifteen years."

Will the Yakuza still be the height it had been for the last decade, or would it shift completely? Suguru had two twin girls to think about.

That wasn't to say he didn't enjoy his lifestyle. He did. He grew up alongside his sworn brother and became a man in a way that was respectful. He evolved with you right there next to him.

Still, this wasn't the life he wanted for his girls.

And it was obvious to him that you knew that too. "We'll still be a family, Suguru. That's all that matters, right?"

He only nodded and closed the gap between you to hold you close to him. "I'm sorry I was late, Dear. You and the girls are what matter most to me."

"I know, and there's still some of the night left," you pulled away just a fraction to look up at him. "I managed to sneak a slice of cheesecake away from the girls when they weren't looking."

"You know the way to my heart, don't you?"

"That's one way to your heart for sure. I just so happen to know to you like the back of my hand."

Suguru leant in and pressed his lips to yours, so short and sweet it would have melted the very foundations of the house. "I can't deny that. You're best at reading me like a book when no one else can."

"Besides Satoru I suppose."

You often joked that Satoru was a third member in this marriage. Just the thought made Suguru hide his chuckle into your shoulder as he leant down.

"Yeah, Besides Satoru."

On a night like this, Suguru knew that whatever happened, things would be alright.

Because he had his family.

[mayonaisalspray]

I’ve been thinking a lot about the Ace Attorney anime recently. I know a LOT of people like to shit on it, and while I can theoretically see why (and it does definitely have problems), I don’t understand why some of its more interesting elements go entirely unnoticed. For example, the scene where Maya finally decides to trust Phoenix is PHENOMENAL and I want to talk about it.

Maya has made it very clear that there are two reasons she doesn’t want Phoenix to be her lawyer. 1: he literally won his first case like 2 days ago. He doesn’t have any experience. And 2: she doesn’t think Phoenix truly believes in her. Maya remembers how Phoenix looked at her like she was a murderer, and she doubts him because of it.

Phoenix never says outright if he did or didn’t think she killed Mia (I’m of the mind that he didn’t personally but I don’t think there’s evidence to prove either way) but Maya is the chief’s little sister, and he has to try and protect her now that she’s gone. He bikes around town in the pouring rain trying to find someone who will take her case. He doesn’t want to leave her alone when she’s at her lowest, because he knows how that feels

We go back to the visitor’s center. Phoenix is soaked, his hair is messed up, and he has petals he hasn’t bothered to remove all over him. But he has a massive list of defense attorneys that he’s narrowed down to two that will listen to Maya’s case. He shows her the drenched notebook with their names, and we see a frantic scribbled and crossed out mess of a list.

We then see a short shot of petals falling into a puddle. I didn’t get why they put this in at first. But then I remembered “oh yeah spring is like THE metaphor for change!” And it all made sense! It represents a few things. Maya’s changing mind (she realizes just how determined Phoenix is to help her and that he does believe in her now), hope after everything that happened (it’s a few small petals in a big puddle, which isn’t much but it’s a signal that things can get better), and new beginnings (the start of Phoenix and Maya’s blossoming friendship).

And then we’re back in the interrogation room. Phoenix has turned away from Maya so that he can continue looking for someone to help her. Maya has tears in her eyes as she’s realizing everything that Phoenix is doing for her. Maya approaches the glass, and Phoenix has a sudden change of mind and turns back towards her. And at the same time, Phoenix asks to defend her, and Maya asks him to defend him.

And then they both bonk their heads on the glass trying to thank the other

It’s SUCH a FANTASTIC scene! It’s a beautiful little moment between one of my favorite duos in all of fiction and I’m not going to lie I did tear up when I watched it for the first time

[ang3lc]

hey yall mind if i practice my angst? no? well don't mind if i do....

simon riley x gn!reader, angst, i wrote this while listening to fireside by arctic monkeys, so listen to that

The rain hammered against the windows of your flat, drowning out the sound of your footsteps pacing the small living room. Simon stood by the door, soaked through, his black hoodie clinging to his broad frame, water pooling at his boots. His hair, dirty blonde and darkened by the rain, fell messily over his forehead, dripping onto the floor. He looked at you with that same unreadable expression he always wore—a mask, even now.

“You shouldn’t have come,” you said, voice tight, arms crossed over your chest as if it might shield you from what was coming.

“Had to,” he said simply, his voice low, rough. It wasn’t an excuse; it was just a fact, like the rain outside or the way he always had to have the last word.

You shook your head, biting back the lump rising in your throat. “Why, Simon? What could you possibly need from me that you don’t already have?”

He took a step forward, his boots squelching against the floor. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words got caught somewhere between his throat and his pride.

“You don’t get to do this,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. “You don’t get to show up here, looking like that, saying nothing, and expect me to just… what? Fall apart for you? Again?”

Simon’s jaw clenched, his shoulders rising slightly like he was bracing for impact. He always did that—closed himself off just enough to make you feel the distance. And yet, here he was.

“I don’ know how t'do this,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do what, Simon?” you asked, stepping closer, your frustration boiling over. “Be honest? Let someone in? Or is it just me you can’t handle?”

He flinched at that, but his eyes never left yours. Those eyes—dark, stormy, always hiding more than they showed—locked onto yours with an intensity that made your chest ache.

“'M here, aren’t I?” he said, his voice rough, almost defensive.

“Barely,” you shot back. “You’re here, but you’re not. You’re in my life, but never really. You’ve lived in my heart so long, I don’t even know what it feels like to be without you, and it’s killing me.”

His shoulders sagged, and for a moment, you thought you saw something break in him—some piece of the armor he always wore. “'Never wanted t'hurt you,” he said, quieter now.

“But you do,” you whispered. “Every time you leave, every time you shut me out, you hurt me. And I let you. Because I keep thinking maybe this time, it’ll be different.”

The silence between you was deafening, broken only by the rain and the soft sound of your unsteady breaths. He looked down at the floor, his hands flexing at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Maybe I should go,” he said finally, the words like a knife to your chest.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice trembling. “Maybe you should.”

He turned to leave, but then he stopped, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He didn’t look back when he said, “I wish I could be better f'you.”

You laughed bitterly, wiping at your eyes. “No, Simon. You just wish I didn’t want more than this. But I do. I deserve more.”

He nodded once, his shoulders stiff, and then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

You stood there, staring at the door, the weight of his absence settling over you like a heavy blanket. You hated him in that moment—for his silence, for his distance, for the way he always left before you could even begin to put yourself back together.

The rain lingered long after Simon left, clinging to the air, clinging to you. You stayed by the door, staring at the spot where he had stood, the faint smell of cedarwood and cigarette smoke still lingering like a ghost in the room. It felt cruel how the world didn’t stop, how life kept moving while you stood frozen in the aftermath of him.

Simon Riley. He had been a hurricane in your life—silent, destructive, and devastatingly brief. Every time he walked away, he left pieces of himself behind, and you hated that you were the one who had to pick them up, to carry the weight he refused to bear.

The flat felt colder now, emptier, as if he had taken the warmth with him. You crossed the room, your fingers ghosting over the armrest of the couch where he used to sit, his legs spread wide, his head tilted back as if he could find peace in your living room when he couldn’t find it anywhere else.

There were nights when Simon spoke in his sleep. He never realized it, but you’d stay awake just to listen to the pieces he let slip—names, places, apologies that never made sense. It was the only time he ever truly let you in, and even then, it felt like stealing.

You sat on the couch now, wrapping your arms around yourself, staring at the coffee table where he used to rest his boots, always muttering something about how your flat was “too clean to feel like a real home.” His words had been teasing, but there was an ache in them too—a longing for something he couldn’t name.

The thing was, you knew he cared. In his own quiet, fractured way, Simon cared. It was in the way he lingered by your door like he didn’t want to leave but couldn’t stay. It was in the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, just for a second, before he caught himself. It was in the way he always came back, even though he knew it would hurt both of you.

But caring wasn’t enough. Not when his silence felt like a wall you couldn’t climb. Not when he held you at arm’s length even while standing close enough to touch.

You leaned back, your head hitting the cushion, and closed your eyes, willing yourself not to cry. But the tears came anyway, hot and bitter, slipping down your cheeks and pooling in the hollow of your throat.

Somewhere, Simon was probably walking in the rain, his hood pulled up, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He’d tell himself it was better this way, that leaving was the kindest thing he could do. He’d convince himself that you’d move on, that you’d be happier without him.

But he’d be wrong. Because he wasn’t just a part of your life. He was the center of it, the axis everything else revolved around. And now that he was gone, you didn’t know how to spin without him.

In the quiet of your flat, you thought about calling him, about saying all the things you never could when he was standing in front of you. But what would you even say? Come back? Stay? Love me the way I love you?

He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. And you were tired of breaking yourself trying to fix him.

Instead, you picked up your phone and deleted his number. It wasn’t enough to erase him from your life, but it was a start. Because if Simon Riley couldn’t choose you, then you had to choose yourself.

And yet, as you sat there, staring at the empty screen, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was out there thinking of you too, if he felt the same ache, the same hollow emptiness you felt.

But you’d never know. Because Simon Riley was a ghost. And ghosts always disappeared.

mlist

[unfriendlies]

garam couldn't help but scoff, there was no way he believed that darius was actually worried about him. why would he be? their only connection was angel, so why would darius care about his safety? it just didn't make sense to garam. his eyes diverted, head turning to look away from both angel and darius. maybe he cared because angel cared and darius cared for angel, so if angel was worried, then of course darius would worry, too. he'd worry about anything that worries angel simply for the fact that he didn't want angel feeling bad. this guy must have liked angel with the way he was acting towards the both of them. garam was hesitant when angel asked him to come eat, having lost his appetite at this point. but he still stood up and walked over to the table to sit next to angel. he was quiet, only cutting a piece of the egg off with his fork, but he made no effort to pick it up to eat it. "you don't have to yell at him." he stated, putting his elbow up on top of the table and resting his chin in his palm. "he's right. i was right there, in the other room, and i had no idea what he was doing to you. i could have stopped him if i hadn't drank so much," he wasn't even incredibly drunk at the time but he had drank enough to make his head spin so he needed to lay down. "if only i had listened to you from the start, this wouldn't have happened." he stabbed at the egg again, breaking the little bit of yolk that hadn't cooked so it started to bleed over the whites. "this really is my fault." he sighed softly before looking up to angel. "that's why i have to make sure you're always safe. you're the most important person in my life, i'd let him kill me before he ever lays hands on you again." he didn't let any time pass before speaking again, not wanting to give angel the opportunity to deny garam's role in their situation. "you know, he's going to be at work. i don't really need you guys to help me bring stuff over." if there was one thing his ex cared about most, it would have been his career. sure, it was just some boring office job but he was good at what he did and made good money with little effort. there was no way he was going to take unnecessary time off of work, garam was convinced of this since he was told numerous times that his ex just couldn't take a single day off to spend more time with him or to go on a mini vacation. so there was no way the man was lying when he sent off the text saying he was going to work. "it wouldn't be that much stuff i bring over, either. i could fit my work stuff in a tote and i'll just bring some clothes, shower stuff, and whatever other personal things i need in a duffle bag." he looked over to darius and offered a small downturned smile. "and you two can hang out here for a while, or whatever. i feel bad that you had to leave last night because of me. so if you want more time with him, i'd just have to be out of my place before five..."

Angel stood by the bedroom door and pulled it open. He stood holding the handle for a moment letting out a sigh, “Garam I wasn’t disgusted. I could never be disgusted by you” he whispered to his best friend. He glanced over at him before exiting the room. Strolling down the hallway, he thought about what he would say to Darius. He couldn’t believe how rude he was. As he approached the corner of the hallway, he saw Darius pacing the kitchen. His face had a scowl as he chewed on his lips. Angel groaned as he moved into the kitchen and went to the stove. Knowing that look all too well the other man was thinking and upset. Angel was becoming exhausted navigating everyone’s feelings but not being able to express his own. Darius immediately began apologizing and begging Angel to let him stay and allow him to help. “You need to respect him, Darius. No more side comments. Don’t ask me about him anymore. My best friend for the first time is questioning me. I can’t handle any more bullshit.” He quipped as he finished making their breakfast. Being from a Latin household hold he made his comfort foods. Fried eggs, mashed plantains, and sausage. He made each of their plates as Darius and he rambled on about their job. Angel was an artist but to make some extra cash they both worked at a club doing odd jobs. As they spoke and sat down to wait for Garam, Angel realized how long his best friend was taking. As he stood up to go check on him he heard the shower turn off which gave him pause. He lowered back in his seat and gave Darius a shrug as they both shared a concerned look. “Angel, after we help your friend can we grab dinner? I want to take you out.” Angel raised an eyebrow as he picked at the skin around his fingers. He felt safe around the man but he also made him nervous. Ever since confessing his feelings Darius had been bolder about asking him out. Angel made it clear he had feelings for someone which Darius figured out pretty quickly was Garam. But the other didn’t seem to care and was persistent. “Why do you want to date someone who has feelings for someone else? That’s a disaster waiting to happen” Angel had a humorless laugh as he nervously moved his index finger over the glass of water in front of him. Before the man could answer they both turned hearing his bedroom door creak open and the soft sound of steps approaching. The two men were quiet as Garam came out quietly sitting on the couch. The two at the table shared a look before Angel opened his mouth but stopped as Garam spoke. “I’m not here to judge you. I’m worried about the both of you. I’m not questioning whether or not he is your best friend. You say that but weren’t you just in the other room that night? And had no idea what happened?” Angel’s body stiffened again and he clenched his jaw. “Darius, enough! Eat your fucking food and don’t say another word” Angel spat out through gritted teeth. “No more of this shit. This is pointless. Garam please come try and eat. We will head over to your place. Darius, you will keep watch outside the apartment.” The raven-haired man glared at Darius from across the table who sat looking like a wounded puppy as he picked over his food avoiding his eyes. Angel’s gaze softened as he looked back to Garam extending his arm to the man on the couch, “Please come eat”

[xxlady-lunaxx]

ik i was gonna write the shinazugawa’s realizing the other actually cares but. what about their first meeting after their mother dies?

by now, both of them are demon slayers. sanemi’s a hashira, his mood a constant low. he gets a mission of sorts, just to save a bunch of mizunotos who’ve gotten themselves in trouble with a lowermoon. he arrives and, per usual, tracks down the demon immediately. it’s a relatively weak one, being lower four, and he’s quick to kill it. he does a surveillance around the place, checking to make sure there aren’t any other demons before beginning to make his leave. the kakushi would be dealing with the injured and the dead.

as he starts to make his way out, ending up having to cut through a group of younger slayers, his gaze catches onto a familiar face. most of the mizunotos are cowering, a bit afraid of him, but his attention is on a boy in the back who hasn’t yet noticed his presence. genya.

almost like the name had been spoken, genya’s head lifts. sanemi freezes, his mind short circuiting before he can formulate the thought that he should leave. but it’s too late by the time he’s registered his own panic because genya has recognized him, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly agape. noticing the silent interaction, some of the other slayers look from genya to sanemi in confusion. one of them, who was in the process of handing genya a roll of bandages, pauses and glances at sanemi.

“do you know him?” he asks. it’s his question that brings them both from their stupor.

genya’s mid-nod before sanemi interjects, his voice harsh and loud, cutting straight through the white-noise bustling around them. he’s overdone it with his volume, but he doesn’t care, even as eyes begin to watch.

“i don’t. i’d mistaken him for someone else, i don’t know him,” he says firmly. it’s a bit too forced to seem true, but nobody pushes it.

except genya, who flinches at his words, looking like a wounded puppy. he pushes through the group of slayers as sanemi hurries to leave. he’s too slow, unable to catch up with sanemi’s suddenly quick pace. but he makes do with his voice, shouting, “aniki, wait-!”

without thinking, sanemi snaps back, “you’re not my brother! i don’t fucking know you!”

though he doesn’t turn around, he can tell genya’s stopped chasing after him. there’s a sort of quiet around them, although it’s not truly silent. as if every sound was dimmed. sanemi doesn’t know why he said that. but he’s already gone by the time his own words catch up to him. he hadn’t meant them. yes, he refused to let genya talk to him, even now, but… that? he hadn’t meant it.

before he knew it, he was back at home. despite having just returned from a mission, he’s quick to get to the training room, grabbing what he needs and starting without warming up. he’s angry at himself, it seems. for running away like a coward. but also, genya had been in uniform. the demon slayer uniform, to be exact. this isn’t how it was supposed to go. it infuriates him that he let it happen. that he didn’t find out until now, didn’t find out until genya had already passed final selection and gone and gotten his own katana and uniform. and then—even once he’d found own, he’d done absolutely nothing. what the fuck.

[furiousgoldfish]

I want to talk about a situation that happened when I was a kid, and even though this particular instance did not traumatize me (that I know of), it still deals with traumatic themes, such as physical abuse, attempted murder and severe neglect, so be careful if you're reading on! I'll explain at the end why I'm talking about it, and also psychoanalyze what I think was going on.

When I was about 6-9 years old, I had a strong conviction that my father was going to kill me. He would lock me into the basement and hurt me, and even though the injuries weren't lethal, I could feel the intent, he was out of control, not watching where he was hitting, if he was going to break my bones or not, it was erratic, terrifying. I love how I prefaced this with 'oh this didn't traumatize me' and then I started with that, but it's just the context to the actual story. That first part did probably traumatize me, I remember little of it.

Since I felt that my life was in peril, I decided, logically, that I needed to kill him before he kills me. It was justified I would defend my life with all I had. So I sneaked into the basement room, and searched for something that I could use for a weapon, next time he shuts me in there. I found one, memorized where it was, and then I was ready.

It came soon after, the event of me being alone with him in the basement, him out of control, attacking me, and again, I felt like I was about to be killed. So I grabbed a metal pole hidden next to the fireplace, used my full strength and hit him on the head with it. He fell down, and stopped moving.

I panicked then. He looked dead. I let myself out of the basement (I knew where the key was) and yelled for mother, telling her that I killed him, but I had to, because he was going to kill me. When we got back to where he was lying down, blood was trickling out of his nose. But my mother wasn't panicking like I was, she could probably see him breathing. Then he sat up.

I was even more scared then, because if he wasn't dead, then he knew I just tried to kill him, and would come after me even worse. But he didn't. He didn't even look at me. He wiped his nose, seeming completely calm, rage from before completely gone, talking only to the other family members, who seemed concerned about him.

I was told, that it's good for me that I didn't kill him, because had I done that, I would have been imprisoned for murder for the rest of my life. And other than that, everyone ignored me. Nobody talked to me, or had anything to say about the entire event. Father ignored me as well. I was not punished. Nobody was even mad at me. Nothing else was done.

The 'you'll go to prison forever if you kill him' line worked on me, because I didn't know the law, I didn't know that we don't incarcerate little kids; I was underage. They lied to me. So next time when he got me close to that feeling of 'I'm about to be murdered', I had no way to defend myself. If I killed him I would go to prison. I had no choice but to just let him do whatever and not retalliate in any significant way. Sad and painful.

Thinking back later on this event, it was bewildering to me that I was not punished whatsoever for a murder attempt, despite getting punished for bullshit like 'talking back' or 'having an unpleasant face expression'. This was common; I could be severely punished for leaving a door open, but when I did something big, like hurt a sibling, or threaten someone, or hit my father with a metal pole in the head, there was no consequences whatsoever, nobody would have even talked to me about it. I wondered if this was just because they loved that shit, they loved watching me grow into the same violent, brutal and sadistic person they all were, because then they could go 'you're no different than us', and be right. But, unlike them, once I knew something I did hurt another person, I wouldn't do it again; I did horrible things just because I was a kid, and all adults around me were horrible, and I mimicked them, as kids do. They wouldn't punish me for mimicking their awful behaviour because they approved of that, and they didn't care if my siblings were hurt because they loved hurting children anyway.

This also reinforces the theory that punishment is just an excuse to hurt a child, because these were the legitimate reasons to invoke consequences, but they never did, punishments were dished out when they felt like torturing someone and at that point, any face expression could have been an excuse enough. They didn't care about raising a kid or teaching them right and wrong, it was all just self-serving acts of sadistic pleasure.

But to let a murder attempt fly? I thought about it more today, and realized that maybe, they were shocked I did that. Maybe it was an unpleasant surprise to find out, that under severe stress, I would make an attempt at their lives. Maybe finding out that I just tried to kill one of them, made them not want to immediately try and do more violence to me. Maybe they were concerned that I injured their family member, and were more preoccupied with that. Maybe the logistics of 'this child just attempted to kill someone' made them slightly less secure in their 'beating children is normal and good' culture, maybe it signaled to them that beating children could be, in fact, a little dangerous. Of course this didn't make them not wanna do it, they just needed to persuade the child to take it and not retalliate, thus 'you'll go to prison if you do that', and afterwards they felt comfortable again, sure that justice is on their side. To make things more sinister, beating children was not even illegal in my country during that time, so what they were doing to me wasn't punishable by law. But if I retalliated, I was a criminal, according to them.

Hitting children did become illegal by the time I was 9, but conveniently nobody bothered informing  me, and I would live many more years in belief that violence towards me was normal, necessary and completely legal, hell I believed that even killing me was legal, because everyone was acting like it very much was and were threatening it left and right.

So the reason I'm thinking about this event, is that I just got some great news. My father has colon cancer. He's currently hospitalized about it. I don't know what stage it is, but the mortality rate for it is high. He might die. He might die.

I am overjoyed. I am hopeful, I am thrilled, I could not be more happy about this. What I started with that pole in the basement, might get finished. If he dies I am free. If he dies, my version of what happened is the only one to exist. I would be safe.

I think my reaction is interesting. Because I know other victims of abuse feel some sort of grief, some sort of pain and guilt for their sick or dying abusers, especially when they're parents, because of the parental bond, and trauma bonding, and victims generally having a lot of empathy and humanity towards abusers. Not me! Apparently my father managed to never even develop the basic parent-child bond with me, and I was ready to kill him by the time I was 6. What kind of shitbag human do you have to be so that your small child tries to kill you with a metal pole and when they hear you're dying, it's the best news of their life? That's such inhumane stuff that all my basic child instincts of attaching to my caretakers got overwritten by the necessity of protecting my life. You did it so badly you messed with human DNA there! Biological instincts voted against your parenthood! Self defense murder was invoked against you. You are ruled out as a bad parent and a life threat by my tiny child instincts.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Idk if it’s just me but this is how I see Yandere Mark with batsib.

Batsib who had a neglectful parent and needs to be obsessively loved

Mark Grayson who’s obsessively in love with them.

I also feel like batsib is also adopted but could be blood related to Damian. Oh I also feel like batsib and Mark were close friends before they started dating. I just like the premise of Mark and batsib being friends before dating because that’ll mean they batsib trusts him.

Also I feel like mark isn’t that bad of a boyfriend it’s just his obsessive tendencies and possessiveness. I feel like Mark would def take batsib out on dates and make sure there well taken care of. Idk I’m desperate

This is so late but I def agree. My last post was purely a joke post.

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely am a fiend for evil boy Mark. Evil Mark has my heart idc idc idc.

Mark is such a good boy he loves every single girl he's been with so much. Like he's such a family boy. ;-; his mama raised him right. He love Batsis more than anything and would do whatever makes her happy.

I think Mark would love being able to be an obsessive partner with batsis. Like you said it wouldn't even be in a bad way, he gets to be extremely over protective and keep you safe without ever worrying about being too much. If he ever did push a boundary he is so apologetic, he's so cuteee.

Even when he has to be away for a while doing hero stuff, he comes back and is treating you like you're the only girl in the world. How nice it'd be when he takes you on late night flights to where you wanna go. All the kisses and attention. He's great on sending you updates, you literally are all that matters.

Dates are great. Perfect teenage/young adults dream. You're always going on adventures together. I think his mom would love you and wouldn't care if you was constantly over. Like you can have that spare room.

There's tons of lazy days where Mark is holding you in his bed for hours while you guys eat junk and be bliss. He just never wants to be away from you.

Even when his dad is talking nonsense, he could never in a million years think about killing you. He doesn't care if he'll outlive you and still be young when you're old. To him, you're the only one that could ever fill that void within him. It's not years wasted to him, if it's spent with you. He'd love you as much as you need for the rest of your life..

but ughhh after Norman started being weird, can you just imagine how protective Mark would get. He's never leaving your side. He doesn't trust anyone or thing. You're his baby, he's willing to take any beating from his dad if that means you will be safe. He'll bounce back but you are so fragile...he cannot risk it. He's never abandoning you, not after you parents.

it would be funny though for him to have beef with some of the batsiblings tho, even if it's friendly. I think it'd just make sense, especially if the batsis are yanderes with too. Like come on Bruce would at least def hate him and Norman. Mark didn't even do anything wrong but he's still a threat.

[fanfictionstuff]

Amaimon and The Exorcist 4

So, I'm going to write two versions of a Lewin x reader fic, one a bit more sensual but SFW, and the other more comical. They should be out by Monday. - If you have any Blue Exorcist requests, feel free to send them my way. Male character x fem reader.

“He’s becoming attached to you. You need to nip it in the bud now.” Seti warns, jumping onto your bed. You turn your back to him, annoyed. “I’m exhausted; I know you are too. Let’s just sleep. It can wait until tomorrow.” You complain, moving to the side of the bed to leave the fox a bit of space. It’s too early to fall asleep, but you're exhausted after being woken so early. You don’t want to wait another few hours.

“Every minute you take brushing it off, he’ll grow more attached. Call Mephisto.”

“You’re exaggerating; I’ll call him tomorrow.”

“_____.” Seti warns, but you’re too exhausted. “Come on, Seti, let’s just go to sleep. I promise it’ll be fine until tomorrow.”

You’re jolted awake the next day by a knock at the door. Checking the time, you see it’s just before seven. With a groan, you drag yourself out of bed. Though you’ve managed to get twelve hours of sleep, you still feel utterly exhausted. As you enter the living room to answer the door, something interesting catches your eye on the sofa. You take a couple of steps back. “Hey, hot Seti is back," you remark. Seti snarls at you in response. “Shut up, idiot.” Your fox familiar is perched on the sofa, appearing as a man with tanned skin and shaggy blond hair that matches the large fox ears atop his head. You know there’s a fluffy fox tail behind him as well. He’s dressed in an old t-shirt and your oversized basketball shorts. “Are those my clothes?”

“Would you rather I walk around naked?”

“Why are you even like this?” You motion to his form.

“You’re about to see—it’s your boyfriend at the door.” Just then, there’s another knock as Seti speaks. You nod and open the door. “Amaimon, could you please wait until at least nine before coming over?” You stifle a yawn.

Amaimon doesn’t even respond to you; his attention is instantly on the fox sitting on your sofa. A terrifying snarl appears on his face at the sight of Seti. “Amaimon?” You question nervously.

Seti rolls his eyes at the king’s reaction. “I told you, idiot.” Your gaze shifts from Amaimon to Seti; Seti remains relaxed on the sofa despite the angry Earth King. “Kill me, and you’ll never have a chance with her,” he comments casually, scrolling through various movie options on the TV. “He’s too attached _____.”

“Uh, Amaimon, please calm down. Seti is like my brother.”

“I feel more like a parent since I always have to look after you. You behave like an annoying teenager who won’t listen.” You frown at the fox. “I’m not a teenager.”

“Then stop acting like one. Amaimon, _____ is weak; she isn’t worth the trouble. Just leave and find someone who is worth your time.” He glanced back at Amaimon over his shoulder. “I promise you, she’s not worth it.”

As you begin to speak, a piercing glare from Seti silences you. I can’t believe he said that. While he isn’t wrong—compared to Amaimon, you’re extremely weak. You can’t even dream of being on his level, as that would be pointless. But did he really have to express it that way?

Amaimon pauses, his anger fading as he turns to meet you with a strangely blank stare. “You’re weak?” you frown and nod. “Compared to you? Absolutely.”

He tilts his head, appearing to contemplate the situation, and you brace yourself for his departure, thinking that a demon king like him wouldn’t be interested in someone so much weaker. You suppress the sting of disappointment—not because you’re necessarily falling for him, but because the notion that someone might discard you for lacking power is genuinely painful.

Seti turns on the sofa, propping his head on his hand against the backrest, prepared to watch the demon king depart.

Both of you wait calmly, though you feel a slight worry that he might decide to kill you just for being weak.

He speaks in an emotionless tone. “You’re weak, so you need someone to protect you.”

“...Huh?"

Seti narrows his eyes. "That’s what I’m here for, King of Earth.”

Amaimon blinks, his face remaining expressionless. "But I’m her boyfriend, so it should be my responsibility to protect her, right?”

Your head snaps to Seti, but he appears just as shocked as you. He recovers more quickly than you do.  He glares at you. “This is what happens when you ignore me, idiot.” He then snaps something in his long-forgotten native language. Although you can't understand his words, you are sure he's saying something regarding how stupid you are. Possibly worse going off his expression.

Seti stands up and quickly makes his way toward the front door. “Uh, Seti, where are you going?”

“He hasn’t even been here five minutes, and I’ve already got a headache.” He then addresses Amaimon. “You want to be the weak human’s boyfriend? Be my guest.” Then the asshole walks out the open door.

In disbelief, you shift your gaze from the door Seti exited to Amaimon, then back again. That asshole. How could he insult you like that and then abandon you alone with the demon king?

“______, kiss me.”

“At least take me on a date first, damn.”

“…okay. Where?”

“…I don’t know.”

“So, you can kiss me until you think of something?”

“You know what? Sure. Let me go brush my teeth and change my clothes.”

You quickly step into the bathroom to brush your teeth and make yourself look a bit more put together. You wash your face, brush your hair, and take care of a couple of other tasks to feel more presentable. Finishing up in the bathroom, you head to your bedroom to get something comfortable.

Amaimon waits patiently for you in the living room. As you enter, he steps closer, but you raise your hand to push him back gently. “I’ve thought of something," you say. Amaimon frowns. "I want a kiss," Sensing that the demon king might become a bit of an asshole if he doesn’t get his way, you quickly press your lips against his cheek. “There you go,” you say, and as you pull away, your eyes widen. Gently, you lift your hand to brush against his left cheek. “Even a kiss on the cheek, huh?” A faint blush spreads across his face once again.  “I’m surprised by how sensitive your vessel is. How old is it?” Amaimon glances to the side like he’s trying to remember. “Nineteen or twenty, I think.” Your eyes widen at this new information, but then it makes sense. His body is essentially an eighteen-year-old virgin. “That’s why you’re so sensitive; you’ve never been touched in this vessel.” You share with him since he seems confused by the reaction.

“Does that mean you’ve never been touched?”

“Huh?”

A clawed finger pokes your cheek. “You are blushing, too.”

Seti was right when he said he’s more like a parent than a brother to you. When you first came to True Cross, you were initially excited about the freedom it offered. However, you quickly realized there was no freedom to be had; Seti was much stricter than your parents. You rarely had time to spend with friends, let alone a boyfriend. It wasn’t until the last couple of years that he eased up enough for you to have a social life. Unfortunately, thanks to him, you became too socially awkward to start being social. So yes, you’re in the same boat as Amaimon’s vessel.

“No, I’m not.” You deny; if you can’t see it, you can easily deny it.

“Really?”

You nod.

Amaimon steps forward and presses his lips against yours, reminiscent of last night. He kisses you with curiosity and intensity, his warm lips exploring yours. It's not a passionate kiss; instead, it feels like an investigation, as if he's trying to gauge your reactions through this simple act. As he pulls away, a rush of conflicting emotions washes over you. His touch lingers on your cheek for a moment before he steps back. 

"You're lying," Amaimon's tone is blunt. "Your body doesn't lie, _____." 

You try to keep your composure, crossing your arms defensively. "I'm not... affected by your kisses at all." 

Amaimon raises a brow. “We should test it."

He leans in closer, his lips almost touching yours once again. This time, the kiss lingers, a gentle pressure that sends a delightful shiver down your spine. His touch is light as a feather against your skin, prompting you to close your eyes, unable to resist the overwhelming sensation. When he pulls back slightly, his gaze remains locked on you, searching for any sign of your reaction.

"You're enjoying this," Amaimon bluntly states. 

You groan, pushing him away. “It would be weird if I didn’t enjoy kisses from my boyfriend.” 

Amaimon nods. “Yes. That’s true.” 

As he steps forward to draw you into another kiss, you extend your hand, halting him. “I thought I told you to at least take me on a date.”

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

“Did you tell that damned earth king he can have ______?” Seti snarls, stepping into Mephisto’s office. 

The King of Time lifts his head, slightly surprised to see the humid fox. “Of course not. I simply instructed him to leave her alone after she finishes introducing him to the customs of Assiah during this time period, primarily in Japan. Much has changed since his last visit.” 

“So, tell me why he’s claimed her as his.”  

“He what?”  

“Amaimon bluntly stated, ‘_____ is my girlfriend,’ and added, ‘Big Brother said I can have you.’”  

“Well, as long as Miss ____ turned him down, it shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“She didn’t.”  

Mephisto’s eyes widened. “Oh dear, and why wouldn’t Miss ____ turn him down? It’s odd she accepted; you didn’t warn her otherwise?” 

“Someone told her Amaimon has a short attention span and that he’ll move on within a few days.” 

Mephisto lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I didn’t instruct Miss _____ to agree to any requests he might make beyond learning about Assiah. My only request was for her to introduce him to the modern world. Knowing Amaimon, he will most likely get bored and move on within a month.” 

“You can’t be certain of that.” 

"Indeed, regrettably, Miss _____ has restricted herself to only two potential outcomes concerning her relationship with Amaimon. While we hope for the best, should he develop an obsession with her, we can only wish that she reciprocates his feelings. If not, this could lead to a toxic yandere dynamic."

Seti’s face twisted in disgust. "Must you use such ridiculous terms when discussing something so important?” 

Mephisto smirks. "Alright, let’s hope Amaimon doesn’t become a clingy, delusional, and manipulative sadist.”

[crumblingsugarcookie]

The wild thing is that Azula is most similar to Sozin! Both of them were constantly compared to their sibling, with them being the stronger bender but not good enough to be a decent firelord (although Azula's weakness was her belief that domination was the only way to rule).

At the same time, because they were the stronger bender, they were favored by their father and pushed to be "perfect". Being perfect meant being ruthless.

That ruthlessness extended to their loved ones. We have them both caring about their friend(s), yet being willing to abandon them for their vision of the future. Especially once they realize that their friends were capable of stopping them. The love and care did not disappear. But there was no room for disappointment The only difference is that Azula didn't leave Mai and Ty Lee to die (or try to kill them).

I think is where Ursa's side kicks in, which means Roku. Azula is strong in her beliefs and her ideas of what the world needs, which pushes her to be firm and force people to submit to her. Roku could've killed Sozin, but instead let him go with a warning because of their relationship. Azula could've killed Zuko, Mai, and Ty Lee for their betrayal. But chose not to.

Azula would run around saying she was going to become an only child, but now it sounds more like when Arthur told D. W. that she would "be a lonely child" once he sold her. She would never kill him. But she would capture and take him in if it meant sticking to her beliefs and dreams for the world.

Even when she hit Zuko with lightning, she knew he wouldn't die. Although she was definitely going to maim Katara. PLUS, how she treats the gang is something to be considered. Like, my girl definitely could've killed them.

She was definitely focused more on capturing them. If Azula was like Azulon or Ozai, then Zuko, Mai, Ty Lee, and the gang would've been dead 10x over. It's so interesting. Because everyone kept seeing Roku in Zuko and kept pushing the idea of getting to choose your bloodline.

But Azula was written off because she showed the more ruthless and firm sides of both Sozin and Roku. It's clear that Roku's traits shine through. No one cared enough to look because she was Ozai's favorite. Like, fuck Iroh lowkey. Imagine being a war criminal, who was favored by his bloodthirsty and callous father because of Iroh's bloodthirsty nature. And then looking at young girl, who is essentially just like you, and writing her off as evil.

All in all, I don't think Azula is like Ozai or Ursa at all. She's not bloodthirsty or ruthless enough, has principles, and cares about others and how they view her (why she was struggling on Ember Island). Unlike Ozai, she doesn't believe herself to deserve the best because it's her right. She believes she deserves the best because she works to be the best.

She's not soft or sly enough, selfish, or jaded. Unlike Ursa, she's rough and approaches dislikes and confrontation head on. Azula speaks and takes action, rather than being resigned to her "fate". Unlike Ursa, Azula can live with tough decisions and the terrible things she does. Azula doesn't hide behind her hard life. She knows she's doing fucked up shit and stands 10 toes down because those are her PRINCIPLES.

Ruthless. Caring. Overly conscious of her position and who she is as a person. In many ways, Azula is the perfect combination of Sozin and Roku. Although Sozin and Roku ended as enemies, they were friends because they were similar. Their visions for the world were the only thing that drove them apart.

Imagine what Azula could have been if she was given a fraction of the empathy Zuko received (from other characters). I could see her being a great addition to Zuko's administration.

people keeping arguing about if azula is more similar to ozai or ursa but I don’t think we’re considering the potential of azula being most similar to azulon

[puppyeared]

Atla live action 😐

[crossbackpoke-check]

yOu'Re gOiNg fOr a LiTeR? | "Habs react to Quebec Maple facts", 10.22.24