#it just gets exhausting to fight. i struggle every day to do normal shit like work and interact w other people. i don't even like being in

[gentlethorns]

sigh. i love being chronically ill and not really knowing the root cause. like yeah i have pcos, inflammatory arthritis, degenerative disc disease, but i personally have an opinion that these things are all linked by something that is not diagnosed yet. there are other symptoms and shit i experience that don't have diagnoses yet that i also feel are connected. but even if i had a diagnosis it wouldn't change that i always feel like shit anyway. literally it's always something whether it's that i feel nauseous or have a debilitating headache or my neck is so tense i can't turn my head or my back is stiff and painful or the nerves in my spine are compressed and causing pain or my hormones are fucked up and making me miserable or etc etc etc. i think back to three or four years ago when i was able to be active and social and engage in hobbies bc i was healthy and not in constant moderate to severe pain and that person from back then is someone i don't even recognize anymore. i don't know if she's who i am and current me is the stranger or if the person i am now is who i'll be for the rest of my life.

[risuola]

INFINITY — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

When was the last time you slept? You couldn't tell, but Satoru was determined to get you to rest.

cw: slightly angsty if you squint, just idiots in love unable to communicate properly, death mentioned (the usual jjk content) — 1,3k words

a/n: i'm going through my wips, finishing them finally and posting, don't mind me ❥

“When was the last time you slept?”

Satoru’s soft voice entered your mind and brought it back to reality. You were exhausted, having no sleep for few days already. Your eyes felt heavy, your mind was foggy and as you tried to push through the fatigue, you struggled to concentrate on even the simplest tasks. Everything felt like it’s taking twice as much effort as usual and more and more often you were catching yourself at making silly mistakes that you wouldn’t normally do. It was probably the fact you were standing at the little kitchen unit in the hotel room you share with Gojo for the mission, and the cup you were trying to fill with water overflown already.

“Shit,” you cussed quietly, putting down the kettle and grabbing the roll of paper towels, knocking a bottle while you reached next to it. Of course it was open and another portion of liquid spilled all over the counter and the floor.

“Hey, whoa, I’ll deal with it,” the strongest was quick to take everything from your hands, smiling in amusement at the soft groan that escaped your mouth. “So? When did you sleep last time?”

“I don’t remember,” you grumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose. The job you had been assigned was taking everything from you and it wasn’t because it was hard. It really wasn’t much above the ordinary and your partner turns every task into a child’s play, but it was the unpredictability of the curses you were targeting that made you go without sleep for a week already. You had at most four hours of rest, broken into short naps when you just passed out and now, you were awake for 43 hours straight. It was taking a toll on your mind and body, the fatigue was like a weight on your shoulders, making your movements sluggish and your thoughts slow.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes aggressively, a desperate attempt to wipe away the foggy haze from your sight. It’s been some time since you don’t see clearly anymore, your brain was pulling tricks on you and though you couldn’t blame it for that, you also wished it to keep up for just a little longer

“Go to sleep,” Gojo told you, wiping away the water that you spilled all over the kitchen area. “I’ll deal with anything that might pop up,” he reassured, though his tone was everything but caring. He was teasing you, his playful nature and smugness fronting in his behavior as always. He wasn’t bothered by the mission, he was doing his job flawlessly and frankly, you were sent with him only to make sure people around are safe because Satoru has a habit of not caring too much about casualties.

“You know I can’t do that,” a groan from you only made the man chuckle. You were in the middle of war – it felt like it, at least – there was a plague of curses, most of them reaching first grade, day after day appearing in bigger quantities and it was straight up way too dangerous to let yourself to drift away. Last time you managed to close your eyes for a little longer than an hour, one of the demons broke into the hotel you were staying in and nearly killed you. It seemed like they were just waiting for the right moment to attack, when your guard is down and you’re vulnerable and you knew that once you fall asleep, you’re not going to wake up on time. Even if Gojo was volunteering to fight, you were convinced the moment he’d step away from you, you’d be dead. And that was the last position on your wishlist.

“I told you I’ll take care of the curses while you’re sleeping, don’t be so dense,” the strongest just shrugged, seemingly unbothered but the grin was ghosting over his lips, making you wish you could wipe it off his stupid handsome face. While you were suffering, Satoru was sleeping just fine, not caring about a thing because he didn’t need to care about being in danger when he always had a nice, protective layer of damn infinity around himself. The world could be burning and not a single spark would reach his sleeping form. Rest was a luxury he was able to afford during this mission and sadly, you couldn’t because once you’re not awake and ready to protect yourself, you’ll be swiped off the board.

“Why would you even bother, huh?” You snapped, not sparing him a look while you approached the window. The streets seemed oddly calm, now as dark as the sky above them, and you wished it would stay normal for the next hours so you would have one less thing to deal with during the night time.

Truth is, the very fact of sharing a job with Gojo is a curse in itself, one impossible to exorcise and it was taking every bit of professionalism that you had in you to just push through it. Your relation with the honored one is difficult. It’s complicated and straight up unpleasant, it seemed like you were stuck in an endless cycle of bickering. Every conversation seemed to turn into an argument, and every disagreement seemed to escalate into a full-blown fight. It was exhausting, emotionally and mentally, it was straining but no matter how many times you tried, you couldn’t manage to break the pattern and instead, you just kept going around in circles. The words you spoke to each other were getting increasingly cutting and the anger was growing with each passing day. Even when you did manage to reach a solution, it was always a matter of time before another conflict would arise and you’d be back to square one. It was as if you were trapped in a maze, with no clear path to a peaceful co-existence and that was enough reason for you to be convinced that Gojo would be the last person on earth worrying about your well-being.

“I don’t want you to die on me because of the lack of sleep, come one,” he shrugged, throwing away the wet paper towels and joining you near the window. “Rest, I’ll stay awake.”

“I’ll get myself a coffee,” you said, not convinced at all. Truth is, only few times you allowed yourself to pass out was when Satoru was awake, because you wouldn’t dare to close your eyes when he was sleeping himself, but you couldn’t trust him. And you’d feel horrible if you made him stay awake just so you can sleep.

“No, seriously, no coffee for you,” he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled towards the bed.

“Gojo, do you not understand—”

“Shhh,” he hushed, manhandling you onto the mattress, forcing your shoes off and gathering the covers to tuck you in as if you were a child.

“I hate you…” Was all you could mumble. It was a torture. The soft pillows underneath your head and warm comforter were so perfect, so inviting for you to just let yourself drift off. You wished to let the heavy eyelids down, to give your eyes the rest they need and allow your brain to reset and clear. You felt like your body was betraying you, the exhaustion was seeping into your bones, making it impossible to move.

“Yeah, yeah,” to your surprise, Gojo pushed his own boots off as well and in a moment he was in bed with you, sharing sheets and pulling you towards himself. “Now, here. You are now inside my infinity. You’re safe, sleep.”

Infinity. It felt safe, suddenly, but was it because of infinity or the man that now had his arms wrapped around you? You couldn’t tell and frankly, you couldn’t speak either, so you just hummed something in response as the sleep has taken you away.

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

My thing with writing König is trying to find the sweet spot balance point of like 3-4 different angles that are integral to the characterization I want to put out there.

I want him absolutely riddled with the kind of dangerous loser vibes that start the first day of kindergarten as almost an leprotic aura of Contaminated: Do Not Touch that everyone he comes into contact with wordlessly picks up on and carries for his entire life.

Just borderline violent othering that he struggles to fight, embrace, and figure out without ever getting a clear answer or mitigation method. He gets older and becomes a problem, a human toxic waste dump, and the avoidance is tinged with alarm. He figured out how to cover it, though, like he’s pulling on a patchwork person suit.

I’m a real boy, I’m like everyone else, nevermind the seams. Yeah, they’ll split the longer you’re around, but maybe this time—this time—I will have become an endeared thing and I will be understood instead of left.

Skin-splitting horniness, which is ha-ha on the surface, but Jesus Christ, it’s starvation, straight-up. Man is a fucking alien, he doesn’t get people, his veneer of normality is quick to shatter, and he just wants-wants-wants to be wanted. To be needed is a pipe dream. He’s like a dog taken away from mom and litter mates too soon—the need for closeness is set at so high a threshold it’ll never be met, never be fixed.

Fucking is a quick fix for this desperation. Bandaid over a bullet hole, finger in a cracked dam. Gets sharper teeth and longer claws the lower the fuel gauge is, and he’s been running on fumes for years. He’ll eat any scraps given to him at any table. Any even mildly kind word, any mote of attention, approval, or acceptance.

Even in his worst mind, he knows he’s not owed, he is not dying because he is not getting fucked or loved or befriended, but god fucking dammit, what he wouldn’t give for company to cut the bleakness, to not be fucking flinched at or eye-rolled. He wants to eat someone piecemeal as they eat him piecemeal, and the brutal symbolism of cannibalism is the best way he can understand the depth of this fragile-skinned desire.

A level of jaundiced, yellow-eyed sweatiness that pervades every aspect of his life. This is more difficult to describe. It’s literal sweat—from flop or exertion, it doesn’t matter—it’s also a state of being. It’s having not a flicker of volume control—indoor yelling or outdoor muttering. It’s being exhausted and anxious to the point of hysterical cry-laughing at hallucinations after 3-4 days sleepless. It’s saying the wrong fucking thing at the wrong fucking time and chasing yet another person off and wanting to kill himself for it.

It’s surviving on 4 hours of sleep and cigarettes and any kind of caffeine and below-board military amphetamines he can get his hands on for the last ten years because he feels like he’s wasting time. It’s getting smacked because his monstrosity of a body fucking hurts and being borderline greened-out makes it easier to go grocery shopping or to the gym or outside. It’s showering and then cutting his hair over the sink and not giving a fuck what it looks like as long as it’s not getting caught in his collars.

He doesn’t blink, he doesn’t sleep, he’s constantly spilling hyena-pitched stupid nervous laughter, and he bites when he’s overdone, and his teeth aren’t dull. He’s never threatened violence that he can’t overpay out on. He pulls on his face and his scars and that might as well be the same thing, gets sick to his stomach that they’re still numb and he can’t push into the pain he remembers from them. Sometimes he just moans and groans, shoves a hand up under his mask to cover his mouth like he’s going to hold back the tide of bile. He does this shit in front of people, and wants to die when he figures it out.

He likes killing people, he likes feeling powerful, he likes being seen when he’s the executioner, he likes being a scary nightmare. He doesn’t even know if he’d rather fight than fuck, but at least he’s good at it, and there’s undeniable imagery in driving a knife in between ribs over and over and over. He’s never not throbbing hard at exfil, and he’s never not sick to death with himself and his fantasies after he beats off the second he gets privacy.

Anyway I love him, he’s a sad sack.

[hismercytomyjustice]

Have I mentioned lately how much I fucking hate having OCD???

Christ, it has made me feel straight up crazy lately.

I just want to yeet it into the sun.

I am just so fucking tired. God I hope this med change works. I am so sick of struggling to do the bare minimum in terms of functioning and just being a-fucking-live lately.

Feel like I’ve been on battery saving mode for like a year now and it doesn’t feel like it’s getting any better. I’m just really tired of putting in all this work only to feel like I’m making absolutely no progress.

I just want to be able to do normal everyday shit like keep up with the laundry and dishes, shower, not feel like deciding what to eat every meal is an agonizing fucking chore, not constantly run my mounting to do list over and over in my head until I want to fucking scream.

I’m just so fucking tired.

I just need to see some progress. To feel like I’m getting fucking somewhere. Instead of just doing an ant death spiral.

Fucking hell.

Lol can’t decide if I want to fucking scream or cry or just walk into the woods and start a new life as a goddamn rock or something.

Being a rock could be peaceful, I think. No obligations, no feeling like you’re constantly letting yourself and everyone else down, just sitting still and vibing. Just to get a break from the never-ending turmoil in my head. Even if it’s just for a few fucking minutes.

Idk. I’m just tired of fighting my OCD. I’m tired of making an effort to get better that feels like one step forward five steps back every single day. I don’t want to be fighting the good fight right now. I just want to sit for a minute and feel fucking miserable because I am fucking miserable and it sucks and I’m tired of it. I want to throw a tantrum and yell up to the sky that it isn’t fucking fair. That it’s not fair that I’ve been trying so fucking hard for the past year and don’t feel like I’m doing any better.

My therapist has straight up told me she wishes her other clients were as motivated as I was to get better. I’ve been seeing her weekly for almost a year now. I’ve gotten a psychiatrist to help me with my meds. I’m on meds for my ADHD. I have tried to outsource everyday tasks that I don’t have the bandwidth for right now. I’ve read up on OCD. I’ve met with an autism consultant. I’ve tried taking it easy. I’ve tried pushing myself.

I know it’s going to be okay eventually. I just really wish eventually was now. Or that I at least had a solid understanding of how much longer it’s going to take. Fuck, I really hope I’m not still feeling this way in the middle of the year or later while we spend months figuring out what meds will actually work.

Like, my spirit is willing. I just need something to quiet my OCD down enough so I can finally make some actual progress with it and with life in general. So I don’t feel like I’m constantly in survival mode. So I don’t feel incessantly exhausted. So completing even the most mundane five second task doesn’t feel like a fucking battle.

Ugh. Pretty sure I’m getting a migraine too, which would explain this piss poor mood I’m in. Idk why but sometimes my anxiety and/or depression and all ramp up hardcore in the early migraine phases.

Which, good news, means I’ll feel less fucking awful once it’s finally over. Which is kind of a relief. At least I won’t feel as emotionally at the bottom of the barrel, but the rest of it all still stands.

I’m pretty sure my therapist would say this is me exercising self-compassion even if it feels more like just throwing a tantrum or screaming into the void.

I just really wish I had the bandwidth right now to be there for myself and the everyone in my life. But like, I can’t even take care of myself right now. And I’m so sick of this stasis I feel trapped in. And I know if I’m sick of it, then my family and friends absolutely are too. Not in a mean way. Just in a “fuck, why can’t you get better” way.

Like everyone has been incredibly supportive throughout all of this. But at the same time I just feel like there’s only so many times I can say “I’m still struggling and am not really any better” and not sound like a broken fucking record.

Like, to the point I’m probably bottling it up to a degree because I’m tired of talking about it, so I’m sure they’re tired of listening to it. I feel like I’m just constantly trying to put on a cheerier and more energetic facade while feeling worse and worse and I’m not fooling anyone.

Uuuuugh. Hope my therapist is ready for all of this on Wednesday. *gestures broadly at their entire self*

My therapist is amazing, but she has a tendency to get teary eyed when I tell her how hard of a time I’m having and I don’t want it to sound like I don’t appreciate how much she’s helped me. Lol once again I’m viscerally reminded of why she suggested partial hospitalization a few months ago. Or what sounds like the equivalent of OCD/mental health boot camp lol.

I just feel like if I could get to a point where I can take the edge off, everything else will fall into place. I just need something to tip me that last little bit over the edge. And I really, really hope the right meds can do that for me. Just like, shrink the hurdles I have to clear even by just an inch. Just anything to make it all not feel so fucking insurmountable.

Ugh. Lol. I just need to take my migraine meds and lie down for a bit until the existential dread/crisis drops to a more manageable level.

[audhdnight]

Btw, if a disabled or mentally ill person (or honestly just anyone who’s really burnt out and exhausted with life, such as caregivers) tells you that they have to use disposables to clean and function in their day to day life, and your response is anything remotely like “well you’re a horrible person because that plastic you just used is killing the planet” I need you to know that you are ableist, classist, and just a shitty person, and I hate you.

Yes, I know that using paper towels and Clorox wipes is not as sustainable or healthy for the ecosystem as just using regular towels and rags. However, I am fucking exhausted all the time, and if I use regular rags, I will not have the energy to clean them. They will sit in my kitchen and get moldy and have to be thrown away anyway. And then my family is living in unsafe conditions because we’re breathing mold spores.

Additionally, we are fucking poor. We don’t have a washer and dryer. If I want to do laundry I have to load it all up in my car, drive across town to the only laundromat, spend most of my day switching things over and waiting for machines to open up, spend about thirty bucks (probably more, because the dryers are shit and never actually dry things on the first cycle), load everything back into the car, drive back home, and then sort and fold and put away everything I just washed.

That is not feasible most of the time, because I am disabled, I don’t have that money to spend, and I am the primary caregiver for our baby who has extreme sensitivities to changes in our routine. I can’t just take him to the laundromat with me, and I don’t have anyone to watch him while I go. Most days I’m not physically capable of carrying baskets of laundry to and from my vehicle. And again, we can not afford the laundromat. Anything that I can do to reduce the amount of laundry we need to wash in a month, I’m going to do.

All of this to say, please for the love of god consider that there are literally thousands of reasons someone might not be doing “clean living” or choosing the most eco-friendly option all the time. We can’t all cut out disposables. I already feel guilty enough that I can’t just function like a normal person, you do not need to butt in and make it worse.

If your activism for the environment and the earth goes so far as to make you apathetic to the struggles and needs of the real actual people around you, you need to reconsider where your morals lie.

(It’s also worth noting that every regular person on the planet together does not generate ANYWHERE NEAR the amount of plastic and toxic waste in a year that mega corporations do in a matter of weeks or months. I’m not saying that the average man doesn’t need to make as many good and healthy choices as they are able, but seriously, most of us are not the real issue here. Go fight the logging and fracking companies killing the ecosystem. Go attack the capitalist mega-corps like Walmart and Amazon and Disney and Apple that discard so much plastic they are almost single-handedly killing the oceans themselves.)

[andiebomb]

Totally different than my regular posts but fuck u

(TW/ suicidal tendencies, chronic illness, vent)

No one understands type1 diabetes unless you actually have it, I was in the hospital (one time of many) for intentionally putting myself into DKA so that I could lose weight and then die (I’d look so hot in my casket) so the hospital called the crisis guy like how they normally would for an attempt,

but because it was a matter of me just giving up on having to CONSTANTLY monitor and be hyper vigilant of my body (WHICH REGULAR PEOPLE DONT HAVE TO DO) they were kinda clueless on how to effectively help me.

Normally when someone “gives up” it’s on their basic needs like eating, self care and shit like that but for me it was just stopping putting needles in myself, doing math to be able to eat and stabbing the tips of my fingers 20 times a day

I was exhausted, my life is basically being a 24 hour nurse for myself.

Plus I’m fat so having diabetes just means everyone blames my illness on myself, which isn’t how type 1 diabetes works! I didn’t do anything, I never drank soda, I rarely ate sugar but that’s how the general public thinks how people get diabetes! When actually my pancreas is just a little BITCH WHO CANT FIGHT BACK AT MY AMMUNE SYSTEM!

This crisis guy came into my hospital room and started giving a lecture on TYPE 2 DIABETES! I AM TYPE 1 THEY ARE VERY DIFFERENT! And even his lecture on type 2 was bullshit!

His man looks me in my eyes and says “if you wanna be happy lose weight by eating healthy and exercising. Your never going to be normal so stop acting like you are.”

…I am also autistic so I’ve struggled with feeling like a foreign creature, unhuman my whole life.

This man just reinforced every. Single. Reason. Why I wanted to kill myself.

And honestly after he said that I started sobbing. He left the room without guilt and said I was free to discharge.

Hearing that I fully started to laugh my ass off at the absurdity of the situation, this man WHOS JOB IS TO STOP ME FROM KILLING MYSELF just signed my death certificate.

I didn’t end up killing myself purely because… FUCK THAT GUY IM GONNA BE FAT AND HATE MYSELF AND BE THE MOST NORMAL PERSON EVER! HE CAN GO EAT A DICK!

Anywayyyyy hideduo is so cute!

[gon-and-killuas-mother]

so frustrated with my dad. he tells me, in a loving father voice, that if i want to change my life and do more and see the world, i just need to change my mindset

i'll give him that yeah, i could use a few adjustments to my "mindset", i have this helplessness about me that isn't always warranted. i know i have the ability to choose to go to bed sooner so i can wake up earlier. i know i can choose to make all sorts of changes that could bring me a lot of relief and stability.

but i just want to scream "changing my mindset won't cure my fibromyalgia, or give me the ability to eat freely without fear of pain, or fix my POTS and pain induced fatigue."

the problem is. that's the mindset he wants me to change. he thinks i can do whatever i want regardless of my limitations, and i should set higher goals so i can see the world and do impossible things because i can.

what's so infuriating is that i so desperately want the things he wants for me. i want to climb mountains, travel the world, swim with whales. i want to learn kendo and roller skating and modern dances. i want to go on road trips with my friends for no other reason than to enjoy the journey.

and i feel so robbed of it. i'm missing out on so much life has to offer because of how terrified i am of being caught in an IBS episode and having to use a public restroom, because of how much pain and exhaustion driving or even just riding in cars for long periods makes me.

i've physically improved in the few months since moving in with my dad just bc i have to use the stairs multiple times a day and walk further distances to get from my room to the kitchen. i can walk up a short hill now with only a little pain! but walking still hurts. basic chores are a little easier but still take more spoons than a normal person.

my dad means well. he wants to see me happy and it bothers him to watch me drift through existence. he's a man of action, and he can't comprehend why i'm so hesitant to "participate in life".

but he's never been disabled, outside of sports injuries. he's a physically fit, athletic middle aged man defying norms by leading boxing workouts with guys half his age, by climbing 14,000 ft mountains, by being a well known soccer referee when most refs are, at minimum, fifteen years younger. his idea of a vacation is a long, hard hike on challenging paths. "rest" is not something he's familiar with.

how the fuck am i supposed to explain to this man that i'm fighting against my body every single day just to accomplish the barest minimum? how do i explain that self discipline means jack shit when brain fog dominates my existence?

i know i can do better. i know i can be healthier, happier, and able to rely on myself.

it's just. it feels like a slap in the face when he sees this struggle and thinks i'm choosing this life. when he told me i shouldn't lower the goalpost, that i should aim high and ignore my limitations, it felt like he dismissed my disabilities as things to "overcome". as though i haven't been wading through waist high pain and depression just to survive.

that fucking hurts. he believes he's being helpful, and there's probably some gain in challenging me bc some part of me wants to take up that challenge. but i really fucking wish he would stop treating me like an able-bodied person.

sigh. anyway. i'm so tired of this.

[rosecreates]

Temptation of Death

On a night where Nimue's trance is particularly fitful, she finds herself face to face with Astarion.

Word Count: 1,620

Pairing(s): Vague Dark Urge/Astarion pre-relationship

Characters: Nimue (My Dark Urge), Astarion, Shadowheart mentions, Lae'zel mention

Warnings: Spoilers for Act 1 Astarion stuff. Rewrite of the bite scene to be more fitting for Nimue. Dark Urge-typical violent themes. Kind of borderline self-harm to even suicidal themes since Nimue almost lets herself die. Proofread.

A/N: Not much to say other than Nimue is a teensy bit deranged but that's to be expected. Astarion gets his first sign of her being a little bit insane here haha.

Her trances are never peaceful. She learned that quickly after only a few days since escaping the Nautiloid with Lae'zel and Shadowheart.

Every night, she saw a hazy memory of her past, that both felt and didn't feel like hers.

Every night, regardless if she got the full four hours she needed or not, she awoke with a headache and bile rising in her throat, the urges mercilessly screaming to spill the blood of the nearest person.

Sometimes it abated within a few minutes, and other times she had to go to Shadowheart for something to ease the headache. If not for the silent agreement the two had to respect each other's secrets, Nimue is certain the cleric would've asked by now why she came to her every few days, always for something to ease her headache. Shadowheart just started giving it to her without Nimue asking, because she rarely came to her for anything else.

And yet despite all of this, despite enduring countless trances filled with nothing but vague and more often than not violent memories of the past Nimue could never make sense of...this trance was one of the most fitful she'd faced thus far. So bad she kept fading in and out of it.

Some say that tonight her being restless was a blessing, because as she slowly opened her eyes, she found herself face-to-face with the crimson eyes of a certain pale elf.

Astarion. Who was bearing his fangs. And looking ready to...bite her?

"...Shit."

He quickly backed away as Nimue stared at him blankly with a mixture of shock and confusion, standing up herself as she processed what was going on.

"No no, it's not what it looks like, I swear! I wasn't going to hurt you, I just needed- well, blood."

He's a vampire. Of course he is. That explains his appearance. And all the exsanguinated boars. But considering he had been walking around in the sunlight and across rivers...how? The sorceress sighs, and gods her head is pounding, her hand raising to hold it as she takes all of this in.

This is not how she expected her night to go.

The anticipation must be killing Astarion, she realizes after a few moments, as she soon looks at him with a gaze of not the hostility he might've expected, but simply...bewilderment. And exhaustion from her awful trance.

"...I'm not angry, Astarion. And I'm not going to attack you for what you are," As much as her urges were already trying to get her to do so, "But I'd like an explanation for...this, and for how you haven't burnt to cinders at this point."

As she finished, it seemed she'd somehow rendered the rogue speechless, because he seemed to struggle to piece together a response for a moment, before finally finding a way to answer.

He must've expected to be attacked on sight, didn't he? The thought elicits...some sort of feeling in Nimue. She isn't sure what.

"I- I've not been able to be sure on what's letting me walk around in sunlight without burning, quite frankly. My only theory at this point is the tadpole being responsible," So that's why he said he wanted to control it when they first met, not get rid of it, "And as for this...normally, I feed on animals. Boars, deer, kobolds- whatever I can get. But I'm just too slow right now. Too weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please."

Nimue crosses her arms. "You could've just asked to start with. If all you needed was a little blood to be able to fight better, I would've said yes." He's taken aback, before scoffing.

"I wasn't going to push my luck and risk ending up with myself killed, darling. I needed you to trust me before I could even hope to try anything without getting a stake through my heart."

She raises an eyebrow at that. "I don't think trying to bite someone in their sleep is a good way of earning trust."

"I didn't think it through, alright? I'm not a details person. I needed blood beyond just those animals I feed on, and you seemed least likely to kill me if things went wrong, so..."

Nimue sighs once more, before she sits down on her bedroll, and motions for him to sit down in front of her. "Well, I already said I'm willing to give you the blood you need. So, go ahead and sit, and take what you need."

He hesitates only for a moment, before quickly taking her up on her offer, sitting down before her. She tucks her hair behind her ear and tilts her head to the right, to allow him better access to her neck. Her light pink eyes simply stare at him. Her face is completely stoic. She's offering herself to him, just like that.

As unsettling as it likely was, Astarion moved forward anyway, briefly glancing at her, and when he found her gaze hadn't changed in its calmness, he bit down. The sharp pain was only momentary, slowly fading into numbness as Nimue felt the way blood was being drained from her, slowly but surely. She was still, hands resting at her sides, though her breathing had quickened somewhat.

For once, her urges were absolutely silent. She doesn't think her mind has ever been so quiet. She can't even feel the tadpole behind her eye moving around like it usually does. Though her head may still be aching, it was a pain she could endure. At this moment, she's relishing in her mind being quiet, in her urges being sated by her own blood being spilled.

Perhaps too much, as she lets Astarion drink more than he probably should be, her beginning to grow quite woozy after about a minute. But both of them couldn't help themselves. Astarion couldn't help but drink all that he was being allowed to, lost to his bloodlust. And Nimue was...quite frankly excited to allow herself to be drained of blood. To the point she was considering letting herself drift away.

It was tempting, to let herself be free of all of this. Her blood nourishing Astarion, and her getting to be released of the burden of everything, of her urges, of protecting everyone, of the tadpole. To be embraced by the cold stillness of death is such an enticing prospect. So alluring.

...But the more sensible part of her knows she can't allow it.

If she died here, she knows well the great consequences there would be.

And so, begrudgingly, she speaks up.

"Astarion, that's more than enough. You need to stop." She states, clearly and decently loudly to make sure she gets through to his blood-drunk state.

"Mm-?" As he realizes the situation, he quickly pulls away, and Nimue feels...disappointment wash over her, as her urges begin to creep up again. They wanted death, whether hers or Astarion's, they don't care. And since she didn't let herself die, now they want her to pick up a stake, stab it through Astarion's heart, and admire his pretty corpse up close. Oh, how they want to cut him open, to see whether his organs are any different from a normal person's. Vampires are undead, last she remembered; she wonders thus how different their bodies are-

Enough.

No one is dying tonight.

Astarion soon stands, and Nimue moves to follow, but also falls as she tries to, if not for him catching her, helping her steady herself.

"Sorry, I maybe took...a little more than I should've." He nervously laughs, and Nimue shakes her head.

"No, it's my fault. I should've stopped you." She takes a few deep breaths, before looking at him. "Do you feel better now?"

He nods, his face a wide smile now. The most genuine smile Nimue has seen from him thus far. "I feel...strong. Happy. And your blood was absolutely delectable."

She even makes a tiny smile when she hears that. Thanks to her, he's happy. Her disappointment from not letting him kill her gets pushed back, a much warmer feeling taking over her.

Fulfillment.

"Good. That's good. Hm..." She catches sight of some blood leaking from his mouth to his chin. Her lips purse, before she grabs him by the chin, and without thinking, leans forward and licks the blood clean. The metallic taste of her own blood feels almost...familiar somehow.

It only takes her a moment to clean it all, and as she leans back, she catches sight of...Astarion's now faintly red cheeks.

Huh. Was it thanks to her blood he could blush now?

"Wh- why in the hells did you do that-?!"

She tilts her head. "You missed a spot."

"And so you licked it clean?!"

"Was I not supposed to?"

"You-"

He sighs exasperatedly, before he backs away, his eyes averted, and cheeks now just a pink color. A similar pink to her eyes, when she thinks about it.

"Never mind that. As invigorating as you were, I need to go find something more filling now."

She nods. "Goodnight then, Astarion."

He waves, his characteristic grin plastered back onto his face. "Goodnight, darling."

As he walks off, more confident than he was priorly, he suddenly pauses, just as Nimue had sat back down on her bedroll, preparing to try to trance once more. "...Before I go..." He glances back at her, as does she. "This is a gift, you know. I won't forget it."

She watches him as he goes off to hunt, before she makes a small smile once again.

Her trance in the following hours was peaceful for once, a happy memory of her companions bantering around the fire during dinner filling her mind.

[cheriecelestial]

Jacob Black’s Self Saving System Pt.II

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ crack. swearing. not proofread.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ So here’s part 2. I’m aware it’s a bit more than overdue but FCKING FINALLY. literally so proud for completing it cuz like take that depression. Also it’s kinda short so sorry abt that. Anyways Comment, Reblog and Like（╹◡╹）♡

part 1

Jacob was abruptly pulled from the gentle embrace of sleep by the simultaneous blaring of his alarm and the persistent ringing of the system. It was an unmistakable sign that the day was about to begin, whether he was ready for it or not—a day full of promise, or so it seemed.

“Just five more minutes,” he grumbled to the system, burying his head deeper into the pillows, not remembering the fact that the system’s voice was inside his head. Covering his ears wouldn’t do anything to muffle the annoying mechanical sound.

[Congratulations ! You have unlocked a beginner’s quest.]

[ ➤ 「Accept」]

[ 「Reject」]

The message hovered in him, waiting for his response, completely indifferent to his desire for a few more minutes of peace.

Jacob’s ears perked up the moment he caught the word “quest.” His curiosity piqued; he peeked out from under his pillow at the blue window that had materialized before him. “What kind of quest ?” he questioned. Huh, this is more user-friendly than I expected, he thought.

[Further details will be provided upon accepting the quest.]

A beginner’s quest was usually something straightforward and low risk. Besides, Twilight was generally a safe story to be transmigrated into—Stephanie Meyer hadn’t exactly shown much nerve in killing off characters, unless they were villains. And it wasn't like he was diving headfirst into some cutthroat world where danger lurked around every corner. Thank the heavens he wasn’t a Hunger Games hater.

Jacob weighed his options, his finger hovering over the “Accept” button. A beginner's quest in seemed like the perfect way to ease into this new reality. But then reading about it was one thing but actually experiencing it was another. Jacob still had lot of learning to do regarding his surroundings. After all, it was still too early and the thought of getting involved in anything, even if it was “low risk” felt exhausting.

“Nah, I’ll pass,” he muttered, reaching out to reject the quest.

[This option is unavailable. Your user level too low.]

“Then why even offer that option ?!” Jacob hissed at the system. A blank screen appeared as if the system was about to respond, but Jacob cut it off, “That was rhetorical. Keep that shit to yourself. Does this thing have a Google review rating system ? Because I’ve got a few things to say.”

The system remained silent, apparently taking his words too literally. In all fairness, based on his experiences with the system so far, it felt almost too generous for it to acknowledge his rejection without a fight. Even while clicking, he half-expected some resistance from the system, maybe a guilt-trip message or a reminder that beginner’s quests were important for progress.

Unlike those rare morning people who leap out of bed fresh and ready to conquer the day with a smile, Jacob, like any normal person, rolled out of bed with a groan and a string of unintelligible curses. And by “rolled out of bed”, it meant he literally tumbled off the mattress, hitting the floor with a thud, tangled in his sheets and struggling to get up.

This was his usual morning routine, occasionally accompanied by sobbing into his pillow about how he can’t do this anymore. But, oh well, a quest is a quest.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, confirming that he was still Jacob and that this was all very real. Jason had never had long hair, nor had he ever tried to grow it out, but Jacob’s long locks were starting to give him ideas. He picked up a comb from the vanity, parted his hair down the middle and then grabbed an umbrella leaning against the side.

“Fate is not to be taken lightly, Cloud,” he declared, flourishing the umbrella as if it were the mighty Masamune itself, his tone grand and serious—completely unaware that his father was watching from the hallway.

“Son are you planning to duel the weather or is this just a new morning routine ?” his father finally asked, breaking the silence trying his hardest to hold back his laughter at his son channeling his inner swordsman.

Jacob froze, the illusion shattering as he realized he wasn’t alone. He slowly turned to face his dad, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Uh, just… practicing,” Jacob stammered, lowering the umbrella. His father chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, brush your teeth and come down for breakfast. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, even for master swordsman. And maybe next time, close the door.”

[Mild OOC]

“Go fuck yourself.”

Jacob sighed as his father wheeled his wheelchair away, leaving the door slightly ajar. He set the umbrella back in its place and stared at his reflection once more.

“You are a fucking dumbass,” he muttered to himself, gripping the sides of the vanity and jabbing a finger at his reflection. Positive self-talks were necessary for good mental health. Jacob for one never missed it a day of his life, though his choice of words always stayed limited.

He picked up his toothbrush and started brushing. “And what about the quest ?” he asked through a mouthful of toothpaste.

[Further details will be provided in due time.]

Jacob rolled his eyes at the system’s vague response. “Of course they will,” he muttered, spitting into the sink and rinsing his mouth. For something that was supposed to be mechanical and emotionless, the system sure seemed to have a vendetta against him.

As he stepped out of the bathroom, the aroma of breakfast wafted up the stairs, reminding him of the real world outside his head. Jacob headed downstairs, the wooden floor creaking beneath his feet. His father was already at the table, engrossed in the morning paper with a cup of coffee by his side.

“Morning,” Jacob said as he sat down, reaching for the toast acting all Jacob Black rugged werewolf alpha-to-be stud-y.

His father glanced up with a small smile. “Morning. Planning any more sword-fighting today?”

Jacob gave an awkward smile as he spread butter on his toast, a crack appearing in his facade, “Not unless I get ambushed in the living room.”

His father chuckled softly before returning to his paper. Jacob took a bite of his toast, trying to focus on the routine of breakfast, but his mind kept drifting back to the mysterious quest. The system had promised more details, but the anticipation of what was to come was already making him anxious.

“So, son, you might remember that Bella’s coming to town tomorrow—” his father began, folding his newspaper and setting it aside. As he spoke, a blue exclamation mark appeared above his head. Jacob internally rolled his eyes. “Seriously? You turned my dad into a quest-giving NPC? That’s foul, even for you.”

[Initializing quest]

“So, I thought you could fix up the old truck as a welcome gift for her,” his father concluded.

[Quest Accepted: Welcome to Forks!]

[Objective: Prepare a welcome present for Bella Swan.]

[Reward: Unlocking Skill Interface and +20 B points]

“So, my mission is to fix a truck for the female lead ? What, am I her servant now?” Jacob scoffed at the task.

[Correction: Jacob Black is a male lead of the novel.]

Jacob didn’t answer back. Everything seemed so in place that he had forgotten that he’d momentarily forgotten his role—the second male lead in a romance novel, whose sole purpose was to worship the ground the female lead walked on. His life wasn’t truly his own; it was meant to revolve around her, with no room for his own desires. His existence was defined by what he could do for the female lead, a reality that left a bitter taste in his mouth. He knew it wasn’t Bella’s fault—she hadn’t asked for this, just as he hadn’t. There was only one person he could blame for it all.

“Stephanie when I catch you Stephanie,” He cursed silently, but he knew he had no choice but to accept the quest. Forcing a smile, he looked at his dad and said, “Consider it done.” His dad smiled at him,

His father smiled, clearly pleased with Jacob’s response. “That’s the spirit. Bella will appreciate it,” he said, pushing back from the table and wheeling himself toward the door. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Jacob nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. As soon as his father was out of sight, the fake smile dropped from his face. He headed out to the garage, where the old red truck was parked. The sight of it made him sigh. Fixing the truck wasn’t really the problem—it was what it represented. This wasn’t just a mechanical job; it was the beginning of his role in the story, the part where he’d be sucked deeper into a plot he had no control over.

The system chimed again in his head as he approached the truck.

[Reminder: Completing quests will increase your chances of survival in this world.]

“You do realize I don’t know shit about fixing machines, right ?” Jacob muttered under his breath, staring at the set of tools with resentment bubbling inside him. With a resigned sigh, he picked up a wrench, though he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it. “Great,” he muttered, “just another thing I’ve got to figure out on my own.”

In his previous world, he had graduated from college, but with a degree in chemical engineering, not mechanical and didn't know the first thing about machines. He popped the truck’s hood and surveyed the engine, trying to remember anything he’d ever seen or heard about fixing cars. It wasn’t much, but he knew he had to start somewhere. His hands moved hesitantly, testing bolts and wires, half-expecting the system to chime in with a snarky comment or some overly complex instructions.

But the system remained silent, leaving him to muddle through on his own. Jacob tightened a few bolts, poked around in the engine, and fiddled with whatever parts looked like they might need adjusting. It was slow, frustrating work, and he doubted he was doing much good.

[New Feature Unlocked: Easy Mode.]

Jacob blinked in surprise as the notification appeared in his mind. "Easy Mode ? Now you decide to help ?" he muttered, half-annoyed and half-relieved.

[Easy Mode : Guided assistance will now be provided.]

[Activation requires : 10 B-points]

[ ➤ 「Accept」]

[ 「Reject」]

“Ugh, fuck it. Accept.” Almost instantly, a series of holographic arrows and instructions appeared, overlaying the truck’s engine. The system highlighted specific parts, showing Jacob exactly where to place the wrench, which bolts to tighten, and which wires needed reconnecting. Each step was broken down into simple, manageable tasks.

[-10 B points ↓ ↓ ↓] 

Following the holographic instructions, he carefully placed the wrench on the first bolt the system highlighted. “Okay, I can do this,” Jacob muttered to himself, tightening the bolt as directed. He moved on to the next step, reconnecting a loose wire that the system had pointed out. The process was much smoother now, and with each completed task, the truck started to look less like a hopeless wreck and more like a functioning vehicle. At least with Easy Mode activated, the overwhelming sense of helplessness was gone. The minutes ticked by, and before he knew it, he was tightening the last bolt the system had highlighted.

[Progress: 100% complete. The truck is now operational.]

Jacob stepped back, looking at the truck with a mixture of pride and disbelief. “I actually did it,” he murmured, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. Even though the system had done most of the heavy lifting with its guided assistance, he had still been the one to follow through. 

 “What’s is the skill interface ?” He asked out of curiosity. As Jacob's question hung in the air, the system responded with a chime, and a new window popped up in front of him, displaying the contents of the survival kit.

[ Quest completed. processing rewards.]

[Entering skill interface]

[ 「Shapeshifting」]

[ 「Superhuman strength」]

[ 「Superhuman speed」]

[ 「Accelerated healing」]

[ 「Combat Skills」]

[ 「Mechanical Knowledge」]

[ 「Memories of “Jacob Black”」]

Jacob chose [Mechanical Knowledge] first, eager to see how it might assist him with future tasks. The moment he selected the option, a torrent of information surged into his mind—detailed schematics, repair techniques, and a newfound intuitive grasp of machinery. The influx was almost overwhelming, giving him a throbbing headache.

“Alright, that’s definitely useful,” he said, rubbing his forehead. He felt more confident about handling mechanical tasks going forward. The other skills on the list remained greyed out, indicating they were locked and would likely unlock at later stages.

Curious about the remaining options, Jacob hesitantly tapped [Memories of “Jacob Black”]. Instantly, he was hit with a wave of pain as fragmented memories and experiences from the character he was supposed to embody flooded his mind. The memories were disjointed and confusing, offering glimpses into Jacob Black’s motivations and actions.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about this change—was it a relief or a burden ? He couldn’t tell. A part of him had always feared embracing the identity of Jacob Black, worried that doing so would mean losing himself entirely. Yet, another, louder voice in his mind scoffed at the idea. What was there to lose ? Jason had never been someone worth remembering. His life had been marked by mediocrity, at best. For years, he tried to deny it, but eventually, the truth became undeniable. In every aspect—looks, athletics, personality, academics—he had always fallen short. He was nothing more than a background character, one who could vanish without anyone noticing.

From being bullied and ostracized in school to facing isolation in college and work, the pattern remained the same. His peers—whether classmates, batchmates or neighbors—seemed to move forward effortlessly, while he remained stuck, perpetually left behind. Eventually, he gave up trying to keep pace. Why bother, when it was clear he never stood a chance ?

Jacob Black, on the other hand, was everything Jason had always dreamed of being—smart, good-looking, charismatic. It made it easier to slip into the character’s persona, to hide from his inadequacies. Despite the flawed story Jacob Black came from, he was someone—someone with a real chance at life. And that was something Jason had never felt he could be. And so, in a strange and twisted way, he found solace in becoming someone else, even if it meant surrendering pieces of himself in the process. It wasn’t that he wanted to forget who he was, but clinging to Jason’s identity only brought him pain—memories of failures, insecurities and a life that felt perpetually out of reach. Jacob Black, by contrast, offered an escape, a new narrative where he wasn’t invisible, where he could matter.

Still, as comforting as that illusion was, it came with a heavy cost. The more he embraced Jacob Black, the harder it became to distinguish where Jason ended and Jacob began. Yet, a nagging thought echoed in his mind: Did it even matter? If being Jason meant a life of irrelevance and emptiness, maybe losing himself wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

“Heard you guys coming all the way down the road”, Charlie chuckled, greeting Billy with a grin before fist-bumping Jacob—a gesture he insisted on using to "keep up with the younger folks”. Jacob gave a polite nod but kept glancing between the door and Charlie, mentally counting down. Any moment now, he thought, waiting for Bella’s entrance. He wasn’t exactly a fan of Bella Swan as a character—mostly due to the way the story was written—but from what he could gather from Jacob Black’s memories, she seemed pretty chill. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to befriend her. 

The door creaked open, and there she was—Isabella Marie Swan, the illustrious female lead of Twilight. Bella fit the mold perfectly: the quintessential plain brunette lead that romance novels loved to idealize. The archetype was crafted to be highly relatable—an "average" girl with nothing striking about her outwardly. Yet despite that description, Bella was undeniably attractive by conventional beauty standards. Her features weren’t particularly distinctive—the kind you might find on an aspiring young model—but they gave her a soft, doe-like appeal, also a common trait in romance novel female leads.

It was this very trope that irked Jacob: the unrealistic fantasy of an ordinary girl, doing little to alter her circumstances, who is inexplicably "discovered" and elevated by an idealized partner. It reinforced a passive role, one where the protagonist didn’t have to work for change or growth—everything simply happened to her.

Jacob suppressed an eye roll as he watched Bella quietly step inside, glancing around with that reserved, slightly awkward demeanor he remembered from the story. Yep, classic plain-brunette-lead energy, he thought. There was nothing inherently wrong with Bella—she wasn’t annoying or overly dramatic—but it was the way the narrative framed her as the ultimate object of desire without much effort on her part that bugged him. Everyone, from Edward to Jacob Black, seemed drawn to her like moths to a flame, while she just... existed.

“Bella, you remember Billy Black,” Charlie said, breaking the silence. Bella responded with a polite smile, “Wow, you’re looking good.” Billy chuckled warmly. “Well, I’m still dancin’.” Though he wasn’t fond of the wheelchair, Jacob had come to understand that humor was Billy’s way of dealing with his condition. “I'm glad you're finally here,” Billy added with a grin. “Charlie here hasn't shut up about it since you told him you were coming.” He shot Charlie a knowing look, who, clearly embarrassed, averted his gaze and rolled his eyes—prompting a round of laughter from everyone at his expense.

“All right, keep exaggerating. I'll roll you into the mud,” Charlie shot back with a smirk. He wasn’t the type to openly show affection, but his quiet protectiveness and demeanor made it clear how much he cared for Bella in his own gruff way. "After I ram you into the ankles !" illy shot back, wheeling toward him with a mischievous glint in his eye. Charlie, grinning, raised his fists like a boxer ready for a playful showdown. Bella shook her head, half amused, half exasperated by her father’s shenanigans.

“Hi, I'm Jacob,” Jacob said, giving her a friendly grin. His voice was casual, familiar, like they’d been friends all along. He didn’t need to overdo it; Jacob Black’s charm came naturally, after all. Bella gave him a small smile in return, looking a bit surprised but pleased by the warm greeting.

“Hey,” Bella said, her voice soft but steady.

“We uh— used to make mudpies when we were little.” he recalled, trying to break the ice. “Right. No, I remember,” Bella nodded, and he laughed lightly, and for a brief moment, Jacob found himself wondering if maybe he’d been too harsh in judging her earlier. “Are they always like this ?”She asked and Jacob rolled his eyes and let out a tired and dramatic sigh, “It’s getting worse with old age.” Before they could continue, Charlie gave the truck a solid pat, rejoining the conversation with a grin. “So, what do you think?”

“Think of what?”

“Your homecoming present,” he said, a proud smile spreading across his face. “Just bought it off Billy here.”

“I totally rebuilt the engine for you,” Jacob chirped, eager to take some credit.

Bella took a step closer to the old red truck, inspecting its weathered exterior. The paint was faded, with a few dents here and there, but somehow, it had character—like it had been through a lot and still held its ground. She ran a hand over the cool metal, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Oh my gosh,” she exclaimed, glancing at Charlie, who was watching her expectantly. Charlie’s chest puffed up slightly with pride. “Thought you’d like it. It’s reliable, sturdy, and got a lot of miles left in it.”

“Are you kidding me ? This is perfect !” 

Jacob leaned casually against the side of the truck, grinning. “Yeah, and if you ever break down, you know who to call.” Bella gave him a faux skeptical look as she retorted, “You sure I won’t end up stranded on some back road ?”

“Hey, have a little faith. It’s practically indestructible now.” 

Billy laughed, wheeling himself forward slightly. “Kid’s been tinkering with engines since he could hold a wrench. You’re in good hands.”

As the conversation carried on, Bella opened the truck’s door and climbed in, running her hands over the steering wheel. The scent of old leather and oil greeted her, and despite its worn state, it felt right—like it belonged. Starting the engine, she was pleasantly surprised when it roared to life without hesitation.

“See? Told you it was solid,” Jacob said smugly, leaning against the window. Bella laughed softly, shaking her head. For a moment, things felt simple, easy—like the beginning of something new.

Still, Jacob had a plan. He wasn’t here to criticize the story—at least not openly to avoid triggering the system. He was here to observe, maybe stir the pot a little, and most importantly, enjoy the chaos as it unfolded. Making friends with Bella could be useful, especially since she was at the center of all the supernatural madness to come. Plus, from what he remembered, it seemed like they had gotten along pretty well before things got complicated with the whole love triangle nonsense.

[Quest Completed: Welcome to Forks!]

[+20 B points  ↑ ↑ ↑] 

Jacob stared down at the slab of steak on his plate, its surface glistening with a thin sheen of butter. The rich aroma filled the kitchen, mingling with the faint scent of charred edges. Anyone else would have been salivating by now, but not him. He picked up his fork and knife reluctantly, cutting a piece off with mechanical precision. The knife slid through cleanly enough, but that didn’t stop the unease building in his stomach.

It’s just food. You need it. Get it over with, he told himself, spearing the piece and raising it to his mouth. As soon as he bit down, that dreaded texture hit him—chewy, dense, and greasy. He hated how it clung to his teeth, how it seemed to fight back every time he tried to chew.

Steak wasn’t about the taste; the flavor was fine, even decent. It was the texture that made his skin crawl. The way it demanded to be chewed thoroughly, the way every bite felt like more of an effort than it should’ve been—turning a meal into a chore.

Still, he didn’t have much of a choice. His body needed the protein, especially with the increased appetite and metabolism that came with being... what he was. Skipping meals wasn’t an option. His muscles burned through calories too fast, and no amount of vegetables or carbs would cut it. Something he learned after transmigration. Fuck Jacob's werewolf genes man, this shit's nasty. 

He forced himself to swallow the bite, chasing it down with water before it could sit too long on his tongue. The cool liquid was a relief, washing away the lingering sensation.

Across the table, Billy watched him with an amused expression. “Not a fan of steak, huh?” Jacob shot him a tired look, cutting another piece. “Not really. It’s... the texture.”

Billy chuckled, wheeling himself back a bit. “Never thought I’d see a kid who can put away half a fridge of food complain about a steak.” Jacob didn’t respond. He just kept eating, each bite an exercise in patience and necessity. It wasn’t about enjoying the meal—it was about fueling the machine his body had become. And whether he liked it or not, he’d have to learn to live with it.

While chewing, Jacob had what he proudly considered the most brilliant idea of his life—like a metaphorical light bulb flickering on above his head.

[OOC warning!]

Oh, shut up, I haven’t even said anything yet ! he mentally grumbled at the system, only to be met with an ominous silence. Since he had already prepared a welcome gift for the female lead, it only seemed fair to do the same for the male lead. And since Edward’s Volvo didn’t exactly need repairs, the next best idea that came to mind was… cue the drumroll… steak. Maybe if Edward had some, he wouldn’t look quite so anemic. It wasn’t like offering food would be a huge deal, right?

[OOC warning! OOC warning! OOC warning! OOC warning!]

“What now?” he snapped at the system, clearly annoyed.

[OOC! Do not give raw steak to Edward.]

“Can’t you mind your own damn business for once?” Jacob snapped internally, his irritation flaring and patience running thin.

[Edward Cullen is your enemy.]

[Edward Cullen doesn’t consume meat.]

The system’s monotonous voice rang in his head, pushing him closer to the edge. He groaned in frustration. “Fine, he can have the blood, then.”

But despite his snark, the warning made him think twice. Showing up unannounced with a random gift, especially steak, probably wasn’t the smartest move. Edward barely knew him, and it wasn’t like they were on friendly terms. He had lucked out last time, but relying on luck again was risky. Plus, knowing vampires, the smell alone might irritate Edward—and that wasn’t a situation Jacob wanted to deal with.

With a resigned sigh, he realized he needed a different approach. Something smarter. Something that wouldn’t backfire spectacularly. For now, it was best to put the idea on hold and figure out a more... vampire-friendly approach. But for now, he had to get some fresh steak first. 

“Give me the bloodiest steak you’ve got. Like, completely soaked in blood,” Jacob requested, glancing at the lady behind the counter. She frowned slightly at the odd request but didn’t question him—after all, he was a regular.

“The bloodier, the better,” he added, thinking it would provide more… sustenance for Edward. That had to count as a good thing, right? Noticing the lady’s wary expression, he let out a nervous chuckle. “Uh, it helps with the flavor.” He hoped the offhand remark would diffuse any suspicion, but she merely shrugged, uninterested, and continued wrapping the steak without a word.

Edward stood in the clearing, utterly flabbergasted as he stared at the bizarre sight before him—a piece of raw, bloody steak dangling from a tree branch, tied with a bright red ribbon as if someone had packed it like a school lunch.

He approached cautiously, his sharp senses on high alert, as though expecting this to be some kind of trap. But no danger presented itself—just the absurdity of the situation hanging in front of him, literally. The blood on the steak was fresh, but it didn’t appeal to him in the slightest. If anything, it annoyed him thanks to the wolf smell. 

Why ? Just why ?

His mind immediately began narrowing down the possibilities, and his mind drifted back to the boy he saw that evening. He didn’t have proof, but something about the sheer ridiculousness of this gesture reminded Edward of him. But he didn't have a name nor motivation for said crime.

Edward sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of course this had to happen to me,” he muttered under his breath, his tone somewhere between irritation and reluctant amusement. It wasn’t exactly a peace offering, but it felt like… something. A weird, clumsy attempt to get his attention—or maybe just to mess with him, he couldn't tell. 

Another glance at the steak, the bright red ribbon swaying slightly in the breeze. Whether it was meant as a joke, a message, or simply an oddball's antics, Edward wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he wasn’t touching it.

With a resigned sigh, he turned and walked away, leaving the steak to hang there like some twisted forest decoration. Whatever this was, he figured he’d get his answer soon enough. After all, whosoever left this here wasn’t exactly subtle.

a/n - And special thanks to that one commenter who said they believed in me. Thanks man. Wouldn’t have done it without you.

tags - @duckysprouts @awesomeartfound @crimechor @the-bizzare-catnon @spookyfishoperalamp @faitrash @sleeping-willows @interdimensionaltravelerposts @porcelana-r0ta @theabsoluteweirdo @mileamintuemalarky @flamingoreo @verypersonadazzel @breyito @fandommenagerie @re4l-life-npc @frebbybirb @2lbballpeenhammer @lasswithaquill @overtherose @tataruz @phoenix-kite @fistfuloflightning @fagflint @starrii-blue @mintyfrogpluto @zgirlly @rareavian @sco-ot

[tinamaetales]

Lights, camera, bitch SMILE! (even when you wanna die)

“'Cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit. They said, "Babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and I did…… I'm so depressed, I act like it's my birthday every day” - Taylor Swift, I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

“You’re in a good mood today!” My friend from work told me after I greeted her with a simple “good morning” the moment I arrived at our office. Little does she know that contrary to the cheerful greeting matched with a smile, I am actually breaking apart inside. The thing is, I have become so good at faking it that it looks genuine. Now, I am pondering how I managed to do this for years while life just goes on for everyone else. Crazy how one’s smile or tone of voice can hide so much. I guess Taylor Swift’s right when she said, “You know you’re good when you can even do it with a broken heart”

Fighting the stigma of mental health, especially in a country like the Philippines, is a long shot. While there has been progress in this matter, it is pretty obvious that the battle is far from over. In this country, opening up about your mental health struggles means you will be facing more backlash (pessimism instead of support) which I find ironic since this is also the same country who loves to yell about its “Christianity” When you open up about your mental health struggles, the common response is either they will question your faith or they will be dismissive of your pain. Oh, there really is no hate like Christian love.

Depression is not a choice. If there is something I can offer to the universe in exchange for a healed version of myself, I would have done that a long time ago. The thing is, people often judge you when you tell them that you have been struggling with depression. Some would even say this generation uses their mental health as scapegoat for “this and that” but they are wrong. I never chose to be depressed. I never chose to be filled with anxiety every single day. What people don’t realize is that for people who are living with depression, it takes everything in them just to show up each day. It takes everything in me just to get out of bed and show up at work. I don’t have a choice but to work because I am the breadwinner. If I don’t work, we will starve. And while I just silently accept the judgment of people around me because I cannot do much or I cannot contribute more at work, I just have to keep on wearing the mask of normalcy and pretend that everything in my life is under control. But damn, I just want to run away and scream at the sky. I am so tired of the kind of life I am living. I hate being depressed but this is the kind of illness that does not easily go away. Depression is not like a fever that would go away after 3 to 4 days of drinking medicine. Depression, for the majority of its sufferers, is a lifelong battle and sometimes, there is no guarantee of healing from it. For more than a decade now, I have been fighting this silent battle that, to be honest, I feel like I would soon lose. I am already exhausted despite learning how to live with it. But everytime I try to end my life, something will always snap me back and stop me from doing it. So, now I realized that I might actually be a strong person because I live life with a broken heart.

There have been numerous instances in my life when I thought I cannot handle it but I ended up doing it anyway because I simply do not have a choice. One of the most recent is when I still show up to work and continue doing my tasks acting as if I did not just cry my heart out the night before because I found out that my grandfather died. Crazy how I was weeping at home the moment my relatives from the province told us the news via phone call and I was still crying while at the shower and then the moment I stepped out the house the tears stopped and my face was back to its normal look. I arrived at work looking normal. I was doing my tasks while my heart was in deep pain. Every time my workmates strike a conversation with me, I just talk to them casually. No one suspected a thing. Nobody had the slightest clue that I was breaking inside. Hell, I was so good at this pretend game that sometimes it makes me feel like I am one of the fakest people on earth. But my everyday life is a greater example of “doing it with a broken heart” Every single day I face people with a smile acting as if everything is okay with me. And I guess that’s where my problem starts. My family, friends, and colleagues are all so used to seeing me always smiling and laughing that news of my struggle with depression seems to be so surprising. My own family does not believe me. My friends, some of them, are skeptical of my depression. In the end, you will always be alone in your struggle.

For someone who recently “came home” to God, I gotta admit that I felt embarrassed opening up about my mental health struggles. Usually, people’s assumption is you do not get depressed when you have faith. But, is it really a lack of faith on my part? I have faith in God, no doubt but acknowledging my own pain and wanting to seek professional help does not immediately mean that my faith is weak. Even God acknowledges our pain (prophet Elijah) Even Jesus, during his earthly ministry, knows what heartbreak is (John 11:35 - Jesus wept). My main conflict right now is how to have a stronger hold on my faith in God while facing the storm of depression. The rest of the world may judge me, including my family and friends, but one thing’s for certain, God will always embrace me despite being broken. I know that God acknowledges my pain and understands where I am coming from. Every time I feel like losing it again, I just keep on reading this verse from the Bible that has been the source of my strength these days: Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest Matthew 11:28.

Every time I look in the mirror, I truly cannot recognize myself. Am I a tough kid who can handle anything and survive everything? Or am I a masked person whose real identity is hidden from the world so that nobody suspects a thing about what is really happening in my life? Right now, I am trying my best to survive each day. I continue to smile at people even though deep inside there is a pain that is killing me. I continue to pray to God and ask for mercy even though there are times when I feel like I am not worthy to even talk to Him. I am navigating through life with a broken heart. Let me end this blog post with the outro lyrics from the same song I mentioned above, “'Cause I'm miserable And nobody even knows”

X,

TinaMae

[angelicalbones]

realizing that i was being punished for trying to have healthier habits has been insane. he slept like shit and it took a toll on him mentally and physically where as I was fighting tooth and nail to try and have a more regulated sleep schedule bc I was working out of the house.

He would take his aderall at like fucking 8 pm at night and stay on call with his friends till 4 am, never ate well, hardly ever drank enough water, barely ever moved from his chair unless he was in a running fixation, and was fucking confused and upset why he never slept more than 2-4 hours a night and would get mad at me for sleeping.

not even including the fact that I am autistic and chronically ill so not only was I just trying to have a normal sleep schedule I would also constantly be fucking fatigued and could easily sleep 16+ hours if given the choice. which just made him even more fucking upset when I would sleep in on the few days I was able to do so.

like I had a fucking choice in how exhausted my body would get when constantly overstimulated and on edge of a meltdown 24 fucking 7 with my heart rate boomaranging between 85 and fucking 140 bpm every hour while im sitting at my desk and struggling to even get a full breath in.

I was punished for being sick but I was also punished for trying to get gbetter.

I was never going to fucking win. No matter what I fucking did he would treat me like shit. I was fighting a losing battle with everything I had and he kept kneecapping me. Why. Why would he want that? I wanted us both to improve and be happy and healthy together.

[artemismoorea03]

(Since you asked so nicely and I had ideas~ :3 @simplestoryteller)

WARNING: SEMI-GRAPHIC MENTIONS/DESCRIPTIONS OF TORTURE AND ABUSE, KIDNAPPING, THREATS PLANS OF MEDICAL TORTURE, VIOLENCE, FIGHTING, BLOOD!!

Danny had been doing everything he could to keep his head low after everything that had happened, which was easier said than done. His parents finding out his secret identity and helping the G.I.W sure as sugar didn't help anything though. As a result of his secret coming out he'd been hurt badly. He didn't know how long he was in that hell, but it was long enough and bad enough that Clockwork let Dan out to help.

As it turned out Dan hated the G.I.W. more than he ever hated Danny and Clockwork had explained this as Dan's 'Second Chance' and that if Dan helped protect Danny then things would be 'as they should be'. More cryptic Clockwork non-sense that Danny didn't have the give-a-damns to care about in his condition at the time but regretted listening to now.

The situation sucked, getting taken from Amity Park and hiding in Gotham City of all places, especially without his friends by his side but until Sam and Tucker graduated High School they had to stay away. Mostly to avoid the G.I.W. from using them to get to Danny. So, to recap.

Danny had been kidnapped, tortured, abused, saved by a once-evil-maybe-still-evil version of himself, then taken to Gotham by the once-evil-maybe-possible-probably-not-still-evil version, Jazz and Elle to Gotham City and was no just expected to pretend to be a 'normal kid' again? That was hard enough, then throw in a cryptic message about a 'test' from Clockwork, the big idea to open a soup kitchen from Dan, and being registered against his will into Gotham Academy by Jazz he was having a BadTime™.

It was exhausting but was also... nice?

While Danny was recovering Jazz was thriving at college and having fun. Apparently Psychology wasn't a big or popular course in Gotham City but the few people in her class seemed to have their heads on straight.

While Danny was struggling to regain enough strength to walk from one class to another at school, Elle was having fun learning despite the bad grades she always came home with. All of them were just happy that she was doing her best and she was having a great time making friends.

Then Dan - or Dante as he called himself - was making friends while Danny was studying for this 'test' and trying to ignore the fact that every Ghost in Gotham had apparently decided that he was 'healed enough' to help them with all of their problems like some kind of Medium.

Even if he was suffering his family was having fun and that was important to him.

"As much as you talk about this 'Jason' guy, I'm starting to think you both have a crush on him." Danny said at dinner one night a few months after they had finally settled in. He was recovered physically but mentally the smell of hand sanitizer or some kinds of laundry soap sent him into a panic attack, then the shit his science teacher pulled a few days earlier had left him particularly on edge. So, he defaulted to jokes in hopes to lighten the mood.

Jazz and Dan both blushed from the other side of the table as Elle chuckled.

"If you guys marry him then does that mean that we have to change our last names again?"

"Nobody's marrying anybody." Jazz said, her cheeks red as she shoveled another scoop of mashed potatoes on Dan's plate when he had finished his first place. "All we know about him is what Tucker has managed to find out and send us as well as the whispers o the dead. We haven't actually learned anything about him, from him."

"That's your concern?" Dan asked, "What about the fact that you're a minor and he's one of the vigilante's we're hiding from?"

"I-I was getting there!" Jazz said as Dan smirked, taking a bite of his potatoes.

Dan and Danny still had a tense relationship but Jazz had forgiven Dan for what he'd done in the past and as a result Dan genuinely showed her a lot of love. Jazz and Elle were both clearly Dan's favorites and he had never so much as yelled at either of them. Danny completely trusted Dan with their safety and despite the nightmares he still had about Dan he didn't fear for a second that he'd hurt their sisters.

"Speaking of which, that wanna-be Lawyer still giving you shit about your age?" Dan asked Jazz.

"Nah, he's finally backed off. I think he realized that he hated being psychoanalyzed every time he tried to pick a fight with me. That and when he saw you the other day when you picked me up I think he might have actually peed his pants."

"Jazz, you're 17 say pissed." Dan sighed.

Danny smirked, "Do it Jazz, say pissed."

"No! I won't be peer pressured into using inappropriate language." Jazz said then looked at Elle who had a Cheshire like smile.

"Say he pissed his pants, Jazz." She pushed as Jazz flicked a pea and bounced it off of Elle's forehead.

"You see what you've done, you've tainted Elle."

"I'm literally the child of Danny and his 40 year old stalker. I was born tainted." Elle joked as Danny shuddered.

"Can you not bring up that fact all the time? People will take that out of context." Danny said, "I love you, no matter how you came to be and that won't change, but people will think Vlad had done wildly inappropriate things to me if you phrase it like that."

"You mean he hasn't kidnapped, tortured or cloned you?" Dan pointed out, "Cuz last I checked those were considered 'wildly inappropriate things' to normal people."

"Well we're not normal people. Now, change the subject before I hurl." Danny said, standing up from the table as he went to the sink to rinse off his plate.

"Oh, that reminds me. You left your thermos in the kitchen again." Dan said, looking back at him. "I kicked it under the counter but you need to get it."

"Ah shit, alright I'll do that now before I forget."

"You better, you leave it there again and I'm sticking it up your ass."

"Dan. Language." Jazz scolded.

"Ass." Dan, Danny and Elle said together as Jazz threw her hands up in defeat.

Danny chuckled, walking to the door that lead out of their apartment and down to the soup kitchen. He closed the door shut behind him, giving his eyes a second to adjust to the dark before he walked down the stairs.

Overhead lights had freaked Danny out since he was rescued. The buzz they made, how bright they were, and the general anxiety they brought to him were just not things he liked to deal with. So, despite the confusion it caused the others he tended to just use his night vision when he could. Sure, it meant that to anybody outside of the group who didn't know his secret were freaked out by the glowing green eyes walking around in the Second Chance but at least it limited the amount of break ins.

Danny turned the corner and stepped into the soup kitchen before turning towards the actual kitchen. He had just about reached it when he saw movement from the corner of his eyes near the door. Inwardly he perked up, wondering if it was a stray cat he'd been feeding (he would get that cat to love him and he would have his first ever pet, fuck what Dan said) but his hopes were immediately dashed when he saw a familiar blue glow.

His stomach dropped, his heart raced and his fight-or-flight kicked in. Unfortunately it was still on the fritz because he froze and all he could do was shout.

---

Danny vaguely remembered fighting, though it didn't last long and when he woke back up it was to pain. He was in his human form with new bruises littering his battered body and he was strapped down to a table.

Big surprise there.

Danny struggled against the restraints holding his wrists above his head as he growled against the muzzle. They had learned after last time that his wail wasn't anything to mess with which was frustrating not to mention painful. Muzzles bit at his skin and drove him crazy.

"Oh good, it's awake. Here I was hoping we wouldn't get the chance to do a basic exam before we transported it to Metropolis."

The voice hurt his soul as much as it scared him. He turned to look to the right, his stomach knotted up as his mother - or rather Maddie Fenton - walked over to the table with two GIW agents.

Danny struggled, growling and glaring at Maddie who simply ignored him.

"Scissors." She said, holding out her hand as an agent handed them over, allowing Maddie to start cutting away his t-shirt. The cold air nipped at his skin, covering him in goosebumps from fear alone. She stopped at the bottom and hummed. "New signs of ecto-echo on its body in the shape of the scars from previous experiments. Suggests that even the echos that make up a ghost can be affected by changes. Perhaps something to note when considering searching for a Ghost Core."

Ghost Core.

They had mentioned it last time, and talked about trying to find his but it had been offhandedly mentioned before brushed off due to 'how much they had to learn' still. For her to already mention it was far from a good sign.

Danny tugged at the restraints again as his pants were cut away, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut. He had to remember to breathe. Had to keep his head on straight.

If he was captured like this then did that mean they had Dan and Elle? Did they have Jazz? No... if they had any of them then Danny would be hearing an absolute rampage. Danny's Protection Core prevented him from hurting or killing anybody, no matter what they did to him but Dan had a Family Core. Even if Danny and Dan didn't get along Dan would destroy anybody who got in his way to get to Danny.

Which probably meant that they were safe but that Dan needed to take are of Elle and Jazz. Were they hurt? Were they okay? Would they be coming to save him again? Ancients part of him hoped so but the other part of him begged for them to stay away and stay safe.

"Marker." Maddie's voice snapped him out of his thoughts as she traded the scissors for a black sharpie which she then began to drag across his skin. "We'll need to Vivisect it again, but after last time it's clear that we need to work faster or at least make it so it can't escape even with help. So I purpose a solution." She then made his stomach sink as she drew new marks on his shins and upper arms. "Since we now know that Phantom's echo can be scarred then this should provide a solution in at least prevent its 'powered down' or 'disguised' self from escaping and its 'powered up' form will also hopefully be affected."

One agent took notes while the other nodded in agreement with her choice.

Danny whimpered, shaking his head pleadingly as tears filled his eyes.

"Alright, let's draw some ectoplasm." Maddie held out her hand for a syringe and vial but before the agent could pass one over there was a very clear sound of a gunshot and not an ectoblaster shot. Maddie jumped, "What the fu-"

"ATTENTION ALL AGENTS, WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!" A voice boomed over the speakers, "ALL HANDS ON DECK! TAKE DOWN WHO ANY APPOSE YOU FOR THEY ARE TO BE CONSIDERED TRAITORS OF THE UNITED STATES AND ALLIES TO THE ECTO-SCUM!"

"Tsk, come on. This thing can wait." Maddie said, jogging out of the room with the agents as the door slammed shut and locked behind them with a loud clank.

Was Jazz, Dan and Elle here?

Did that mean they weren't hurt?

Where did they get a gun?!

No wait that didn't make sense.

Guns, there to help, sending the GIW into a panic.

Danny's eyes widened with realization.

The GIW had a bat problem.

Danny struggled against the restraints again, scrunching his nose with pain as the metal cut into the flesh around his wrist. Since his last capture he'd learned a few things from the internet. For starters, if a person could deal with some pain then breaking or dislocating ones thumb could help them slip out of restraints!

No better time to test it.

He pulled and pulled, ignoring as blood began to drip down his skin as there was a pop followed by a new wave of pain. He let out a pained scream behind his muzzle as his hand slipped free and he pulled it to his chest, trying not to cry.

It was fine.

He was fine.

With a deep breath and a bloody hand he reached up, pulling at the ecto-lined muzzle before surrendering to the fact that he couldn't get it off. Thankfully, luck wasn't entirely off his side though, because the agents had left the scissors on the table.

Rookie mistake.

Danny grabbed the scissors then brought it up to the second restraint, digging one of the ends into the lock and twisting it around. He had no idea how to pick a lock, but he had learned that if he destroyed the lock enough that sometimes they would pop open. Something that worked!

Two for Danny, he'd take it.

Once his second hand was free he sat up and destroyed the locks the same way, properly freeing himself as he got off of the table, and stumbled.

'If only I could get this damn muzzle off." He thought with a frown, but unfortunately the lock was different for the muzzle. Not something he could mess with until it popped off. So he was stuck with it.

For now.

Danny walked unsteadily to the door, trying to push it open with a scowl. Locked from the outside. Proof they were desperate to keep him in but also didn't give a shit for anybody else who got trapped during emergency situations. Annoying, but it was fine.

He looked at the scissors then around the room as his eyes landed on a vent in the wall. He smirked under the muzzle, limping over as he used the bent and rough looking scissors to unscrew the four screws holding the vent, then popped it off.

'This lab looks temporary, probably something they put here to hold me for transport. But how did they plan to move a building?' He thought curiously, holding the scissors in his good hand as he started to army crawl through the vent. 'Whatever their plan, they should think about welding the vent into place next time.'

He made it to the other end of the short vent, mentally kicking himself for not going in feet first before he put the scissors down and slammed his hands against the vent as hard as he could.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Finally the fourth caused it to pop off, the broken screws flying in different directions.

Relieved he grabbed the scissors again and crawled out the rest of the way. His legs were shaking from fear and pain, though as dizzy as he felt it almost felt like he had taken some kind of sleepy medicine. Which didn't make sense, drugs didn't work on him... right?

He was probably just tired from the fight. The fact that he didn't remember the fight and felt off didn't mean anything.

He looked around, the sounds of fighting and gunshots continuing through the building(?). Now that he looked at it, it didn't really look like a building. More like a weirdly shaped massive room with boxes lining one of the walls, small temporary cells and another temporary lab.

Weird.

He shook his head, mentally kicking himself for not being able to focus as he started looking for some kind of escape route. A fire exit, more vents, a window, maybe even the front door. Eventually, he found some stairs, which was better than nothing.

Danny started marching up the stairs, making it up about seven steps before movement at the top startled him into looking up.

Jack.

Specifically Jack wearing the Ghost Gauntlets and wielding an ectoblaster.

"Not so fast, Ghost Scum!" Jack shouted, aiming and firing the weapon at Danny.

Jack, had always been a terrible shot. But, being a terrible shot also meant that sometimes he managed to hit something important accidentally. In this case he hit the wall next to Danny's head, causing him to stumble backwards, getting off balance. Jack was quick to take advantage of Danny's stumble as he rushed at Danny, swinging his fist and clocking Danny right across the jaw.

Pain exploded through his head as he was thrown over the edge of the stairs, dropping down to the ground bellow with a thump as the scissors landed a few feet from him. Danny gasped and wheezed as he tried to regain his breath, curling onto one side as he sucked desperate breaths through his nose.

'Get up! Get up! You have to move, damn it!' Danny thought, pushing himself up to his hands and knees as his ringing ears started to focus a bit more on the approaching foot steps. 'MOVE!'

He scrambled to his feet, trying to run from the movement but was too slow as Jack grabbed his good wrist, spinning and slamming him against a nearby wall, stunning him further.

Danny held up his hands to protect his head, but thankfully it didn't come to that as a blur of red and green suddenly swung in from who-knows where, kicking Jack in the shoulder and throwing him away from him before landing on his feet in a fighting position.

Robin.

The boy glanced at him, then glared at Jack as he pulled out a sword. Danny whimpered, grabbing Robin's hand anxiously as he shook his head.

"What?"

Danny looked at Jack who was getting back up before he shook his head again.

"Seriously? He was going to kill you, and you expect me not to kill him?"

Danny gave him the best pleading look he could as Robin sighed.

"Fine. I will not kill him, assistance is on the way, hide or get out of here."

Danny was relieved as he tried to relax, moving out of Robin's way. He couldn't physically fight his parents and he couldn't let them get killed, but he was far too weak to care if Robin hurt them just a little bit. With a shaky breath he turned to go back towards the stairs when a Fenton Lasso wrapped around his torso and suddenly yanked him away from Robin again.

Maddie. Again.

"Release the control you have on the Gotham Vigilantes immediately!" She demanded.

'SERIOUSLY!?' He thought, kicking his legs forward to startle Maddie who instinctively dropped the lasso, allowing him to get free as he ran from her. 'What are they going to pin on me next?'

Maddie slid in front of him, blocking his exit as she used a Fenton Ecto-Staff, swinging it at his head. Danny ducked out of the way to dodge the first attack before he grabbed her wrist and spun her to the best of his ability. He felt bad about it but twisted her wrist in order to make her drop the weapon before he pushed her away from him to give him space.

It didn't hurt her and it bought her the time to try and escape again.

But, as was fitting for his mother, she didn't give up and her next attack was even more surprising. With a shout of pure rage she threw herself at him. In that moment Maddie Fenton wasn't the cold calculating scientist but instead was an emotional ball of fury wielding a scissors.

Maddie tackled him to the ground, sitting on his hips as she tried to bring the scissors down into Danny's chest. He caught her hand, shouting behind the muzzle as the scissors cut sliced through his hand. His eyes widened, tears dripping down his face as pain ripped through his arm while his body trembled.

"How dare you have my baby boys face." She said, "How dare you try to trick us for months then trick my daughter into trusting you! You mimic is voice, you wore his clothes, you stole his name, you pretended to be my baby! But you're a fake, and I know for a fact that my real son would want me to take him out of his misery if he ever became something like you."

Tears dripped down his face, wishing he could talk to her, that he could explain to her or get through to her. But, the fact was there was no getting through to her. She didn't want to hear the truth.

That her science was wrong.

That her science killed her son and brought him back to life.

That she had failed.

Danny pushed back against her, ignoring the pain ripping through his limbs as he heard Jack and Robin still fighting near by. He didn't have strength to transform, he couldn't use his powers he was too exhausted, and he couldn't hurt his mom.

Suddenly the shadows seemed to come alive above Maddie as somebody grabbed her by her suit, yanking her off of him and throwing her to the side to show none other than Batman standing above him, a heavy glare on his face.

"Enough." He said, throwing a smoke pellet near Maddie's feet. The color drained from her face as she suddenly crumbled, causing Danny to gasp in shock. The surprise was nothing compared to the fear when Batman looked at him. "It's just knockout gas, she'll sleep for a few hours but she's not hurt." He promise, walking over as Danny pushed up into a sitting position, curling up slightly. "Hey, hey... you're safe, chum. You're safe. How about I get that muzzle off, huh?"

Chum?

Did he just call him Sharkbait?

Whatever, Danny was too tired to care.

Hesitantly, Danny nodded, letting Batman closer as he pulled something out of his belt and stuck it into the side of the muzzle. After a moment there was a click and the muzzle fell away allowing him to suck in a full breath through his mouth. A breath that immediately came back out as a sob.

Batman frowned, carefully moving forward again as he took Danny's hand, wraping bandages around the wound and the scissors, clearly hesitant to remove it without medical help. Once it was bandaged he looked at his other wrist.

"I'm going to get you out of here. Can I pick you up?"

Danny hiccuped, then nodded with a soft sniffle while Batman scooped his arm under his knees and another around his back to pick him up bridal style.

"The large male is down." Robin reported, jogging over.

Danny looked passed him to where Jack was also unconscious on the ground, but thankfully not hurt other than bruises and destroyed equipment laying all around him. Danny sniffled, curling up slightly in Batman's arms as Batman carried him up the stairs with Robin leading the way, looking for any more signs of danger.

As they reached the top and exited a doorway at the top he realized why everything was so weirdly shaped and different from what he felt they should have been. He wasn't in a building he was in a boat that was parked at a pier. A pier that had a lot of tied up or unconscious GIW agents while vigilantes, police and medical personal ran around the area like ants.

"M-my brother and sisters-" Danny began.

"They're safe at home, Danny. Your sisters had minor injuries so we had them stay back. They're waiting for you at the Second Chance."

The Second Chance.

Home.

Danny sniffled, "I can't... n-no doctors."

Batman nodded, "We'll treat you back at your house and come up with a plan with your family on what to do next. Robin, go update the others."

Robin nodded, jogging off towards where the other vigilantes were while Batman carried Danny to the Batmobile, the top opening when he approached before he placed Danny in the back.

He was terrified still. He didn't know if he could trust the heroes but given his choices were the GIW and Batman he would take the second option. Once Danny was in the back seat her curled up, cradling his injured hands to his chest. He wasn't entirely sure what was happening or what was going to happen, but for now he was just thankful to be alive.

A new family has moved to Gotham. A strange new family. They appear normal from the outside. The older brother runs a soup kitchen, while the younger siblings attend college, high school, and middle school respectively. All perfectly normal things when you don't take into account the abnormal things they've been sighted doing.

[notchesandbullets]

Pure Affections Wrapped Up in a Dark Green Bow (Husband!Pro-Hero!Bakugou x Wife!Reader)

Art credit: @/gaysony on Instagram

Warnings: suggestive themes (there’s one steamy kiss and innuendoes sprinkled throughout), nudity (not sexual), fluff, cursing, injuries, hurt/comfort, soft!domestic!Bakugou and heartwarming present. 

Synopsis: You had been married to Bakugou for a couple years now and you had a special present for him. But when he gets home, it’s clear that he hasn’t had the best day. You’re there, steady and strong for him to lean on for support and he does until he’s capable of standing on his own again. This is what love looks like.

Words: 6k

The door to your flat slammed closed, signaling that your husband was home, and you wiped your grimy hands on your dirt-streaked cargo pants. You grabbed something and jumped on the counter, shoving it in a cabinet before closing it. Double checking to make sure you couldn’t see it, you leaped down, quelling your excitement as you sped out of the kitchen.

But your rapid footsteps faltered when Bakugou came into sight, looking absolutely drained. 

He dropped his duffle bag on the floor without a care and kicked off his shoes, never looking up once. 

“Katsuki?” 

Your soft voice brought him back down to reality and he sighed heavily, gripping the roots of his ash-blond hair in frustration. When he finally glanced up, his garnet eyes were laced with exhaustion. 

But everything melted away the instant he saw you.

Engine oil smudged on your cheeks, Bakugou refrained from snorting at the sight of your muddied cargo pants and stained, white tank top. You sure were a sight for sore eyes even when tinkering with your support items commissioned for big-time heroes like him.

“Hi.” You giggled as he dumped the rest of his stuff to the ground, closing the distance in between you two in three large strides.

You frowned as you noticed a slight limp in his gait but you didn’t get a chance to question it. Bakugou didn’t waste any time, trapping you in his arms and crushing your form to his chest.

He grunted his hello, but his eyes were soft and his smile was fond as he drew back slightly. He might’ve grown since his hot-headed days in high school as you helped him express his emotions but that didn’t mean all his ticks went away.

You just held him as his head plopped on your shoulder, sensing where his distress and aggravation was stemming from.

“Bad day?” You asked sympathetically, looping your arms around his neck so that you could card your fingers through his spiky hair.

He snorted but his fingers tightened from where they were gripping your waist. “Like you wouldn’t fucking believe.”

It was awful. He had gotten called away on a mission only to find out that his people mixed up who he was going up against and had given him skewed intelligence. He would’ve fucked them up for a mistake like that if it wasn’t for that column that landed on his leg and trapped it. He was fortunate that Recovery Girl had made a special trip to see him or else he would still be in the hospital. 

You smiled sympathetically at the bite in his tone and pressed a kiss to his temple in an effort to calm him. “You want to talk about it?”

Bakugou shook his head no. All that could come later, right now, he just wanted to to hold you in his arms. Because when he did, it was like all was right with the world.

You didn’t press the issue. Instead, after coaxing him to stand on his own two feet so that you weren’t dragging his weight around the complex, you led him to your shared bedroom.

“C’mon, bathtime.” You encouraged softly.

Bakugou didn’t fight you as you guided him into the simplistic yet modern bathroom and he lifted his arms up as you tapped his wrists to indicate what you wanted him to do so that you could take his shirt off. 

You turned around so he could strip the rest of the way and started to run the bath. You left the lights off on purpose so that the harshness of it wouldn’t hurt his eyes. Instead, the window provided natural light. 

Adding a couple bath salts and essential oils (even though he claimed he hated the way it smelled) to aid in his relaxation, you adjusted the temperature of the water to chanced a glance back at the man draped over you. Your brow furrowed and a frown pinched the edge of your mouth as he leaned against you more than usual. He was more hurt than he was letting on.

Slinging his heavy arm around your shoulder, you supported him and helped him into the tub. He had already undressed the rest of the way but your brow furrowed as he struggled to lift his left leg. Eventually, you were able to lower him without a problem and you grinned triumphantly at the feat accomplished but it went unnoticed by your husband.

Bakugou frowned tiredly when you didn’t follow him in. 

“Come here.” He rasped, his voice heavy and laced with a burden he didn’t want to voice.

Your expression softened but you shook your head. You were so dirty from working in your workshop. If anything, you needed a shower. He could soak by himself and then come eat dinner when he was ready and up for it.

But Bakugou tugged on your hand, insisting. 

“I don’t give a shit.” He growled lowly. “Get in here, dumbass.”

Shaking your head at his crude language, you squeaked when he yanked you towards him. Your breath caught in your throat as he was now an inch away from your face, his hot exhales mingling with your gasp of surprise. 

“You’re not asking, are you?” You sighed dramatically but smiled to let him know that you were just kidding. “Alright, give me a second.”

As soon as you took your clothes off, you clambered in the bath with him, facing him because you didn’t trust him not to try anything in this state where you were both nude. 

He wrinkled his nose, giving away his displeasure as you stayed an arm’s length away from him but you didn’t care and urged him to scoot forward so that you could start to clean him. 

Bakugou hissed as your nails dragged against his scalp. “Taking a damn bath is fucking dirty.”

“The water gets so fucking disgusting.” He scowled, huffing scornfully when he saw how brown the water was turning already.

You shrugged, focusing on a patch of particularly rough sediment clinging to his chest. 

Bakugou took this moment of peace in time to observe the way your brow furrowed in concentration, how your nose flared and your lips pursed. 

You hardly ever let him watch you at work in the shop, giving him a shitty excuse that he distracted you or some shit.

Fucking lame. 

You were a vision when you were working on things that you were passionate on. He could watch you for hours and never get tired. He actually had, on several occasions, had gotten in trouble with his PR team more than once because he skipped or forgotten about a press conference meant to boost his publicity.

Not that he really needed more. If anything, as a top ten hero, he needed less.

All he wanted was to lay in bed and fall asleep with you in his arms. Was it too much to ask for that of the world? To give him an uneventful night of peace where he wasn’t called away to work, to be able to wake up with you in the morning when the sun rose above the skyline and greet you with breakfast in bed instead of a scrawled note that told you how much he loved and missed you since he couldn’t stick around. 

You never minded. You never complained about the hardships once.

You knew that when you agreed to marry him you knew exactly what you were signing up for. And you never regretted it.

Sure, the days were hard. You had work and friends to keep you more than occupied but at the end of the day, it boiled down to commitment and how much you loved him. That wasn’t to say that waiting was easy, not at all.

Because everyday you had to worry about whether or not he would make it home that night. Whether he was eating properly and getting enough rest. How every time you turned on the news you held your breath as you flicked through the channels, hoping and praying that your husband wouldn’t be on the front of those stories that broadcasted the death of a hero for the whole nation to see. 

But he was worth it. He was worth your unconditional love for him and every single moment of waiting. You would always wait for him because there was no one else you’d rather be with.

Bakugou almost fell asleep in the tub as you bathed him without being prompted. Normally, he's have some kind of irritation flashing through him as he was forced to endure your loving touch that he absolutely did not need. Or treasure.

Or was the only thing he was able to think of when you tended to him with the utmost care.

Fuck.

He had learned fairly early on in your marriage that being vulnerable didn't not constitute the same as being weak in his definition. But it got easier as time passed and he saw that you would be the last person on earth to judge him or think less of him because of his limitations. 

It had taken a while but eventually you broke down those high walls of his, embracing him in the midst of the maze he had built up around his heart to protect himself and kissed the top of his head as he leaned down. 

You got him. All of him. 

There was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be than by your side. 

Bakugou’s head lolled back against the backsplash as your nails scratched against his scalp.

He exhaled deeply. “Fuck, that feels good.” 

You fought back a cheeky smile. You knew him well and all of his weak spots.

Bakugou’s eyes fluttered closed as you continued to clean him. Usually, he would insist you turn around and relax so that he could take care of you but all the energy was sapped out of him. He was lucky he had someone like you to sit here with him after a shitty day, not ask any questions, but just simply be with him. 

You squeaked in surprise when he suddenly brought you in for a hug and you blushed a rosy red when he nuzzled unabashedly into the valley of your breasts.

“Katsuki!!” You exclaimed in shock, your fingers winding in his hair when he didn’t let you go. Your eyes shot open when he tugged you into his lap. He was never this forward and he usually waited a good couple hours to initiate any kind of physical contact after a rough day at work.

Today must have been particularly bad. 

“Thank you.” Bakugou grunted, the voiced appreciation coming out muffled from where he was attached to your chest.

Gaze softening, understanding filled your eyes and you gently kissed the top of his head. “You’re welcome.”

Discreetly, you grabbed the soap to finish his bath, sudsing yourself in the process. Bakugou didn’t complain once as the water turned dark with dirt, even though he was barking about it earlier, simply basking in your presence and breathing you in while you took care of him.

He toweled off first, per your insistence since you still needed to wash your hair.

As soon as you dried off, you gestured for him to hand you the antibiotic so that you could get to work on those cuts of his. He protested the entire time.

“This doesn’t even hurt, why do you have to put a fucking—”

Bakugou broke off with a hiss of pain as you pressed down slightly harder than you needed to in order to emphsize your point.

“Katsuki…” You warned, your eyes blatantly telling him not to fight you on this or else he’d regret it. He got it rather quickly.

“Yeah, yeah,” He mumbled, averting his eyes. “Fine. Do your fucking shit or whatever.”

You weren't thrown off by the indifferent tone in his voice. He needed to know that you weren’t going anywhere. 

He always got agitated anytime he got hurt. It was only natural for someone who grew up thinking they had to be strong all the time.

Gently pressing down on his thigh, you paid special attention to when he winced.

“It’s just bruised.” You threw him a pointed glance, knowing what he was going to deny. “Recovery Girl came by?”

“Yeah.” Bakugou hissed under his breath. “Shitty nerd called her before I could say a damn word.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Well thank goodness for that because everybody knows you would screw that up.”

“Oi.” He growled at your snark. “Not fucking funny.”

You grinned. “Wayyyy funny.”

Your smile faded as you continued to patch him up, inspecting him thoroughly to make sure you hadn’t missed anything. He had a tendency to hide how bad his injuries were and although you could understand why, you didn’t appreciate the times he was literally knocking on death’s door and would die if he didn’t receive medical attention.

Those times, you weren’t all that forgiving.

Gesturing to his leg that he had been favoring since he came home, you arched an eyebrow in silent questioning. 

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “It’s fine.”

You crossed your arms over your chest but didn’t push it. He could still walk on it so it was probably fine. His pride was probably what was hurt more. Either that or the mission had gone bad and he had been too late.

Swallowing harshly, you knew not to cross that line. 

As the two of you exited the bathroom, you left behind the tense atmosphere and relaxed as you stepped back into the living area, making your way to the kitchen with great difficulty as Bakugou peppered kisses to your neck in a wordless thanks for helping him.

And the instant you arrived in the kitchen, you sprang away from him.

“Surprise!!” You shouted excitedly, waving your hands at the simple meal set up at the table. 

There was a single cinnamon and spice candle that sat in the center of the white tablecloth. He never was one for extravagance but you put in a little extra effort today.

At his silence, your arms dropped and you played with your fingers nervously, thinking that he didn’t like it. Or maybe that he found it annoying and just wanted to be left alone and now he would have to eat dinner with you.

You started to ramble as you began to panic. “I-I thought we could do something nice, since it’s your birthday, and I know since the pandemic, things have been really hard on you guys so I thought it would be nice to relax and—”

You cut off with a squeak as he swept you up into his arms and off your feet, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Cheeks flushing bright red, your stammering came to a halt as he let out a shaky exhale against your heated skin.

“Thanks.” 

It came out quieter than his usual volume, taking you by surprise, but you still heard it nonetheless.

You didn’t tease him. Maybe later when he could handle it, but not now. 

Stroking his hair comfortingly, you grounded him in reality before guiding him to sit at the table. He had tried to hide how happy he was from you but he couldn’t. Not one bit.

You knew him too well.

Letting him rest his feet, knowing he must’ve been standing and running around all day to correct mistakes, defeat villains and save people.

You moved to go sit down on the opposite side of the table like you normally everyday at dinnertime but the arm locked around your waist stopped you.

Glancing back quizzically, you yelped as Bakugou pulled you down into his lap, pressing your back flush against his broad chest.

He didn’t say anything, and if you had to guess, you figured that his brow was probably furrowed in annoyance and his mouth was pressed in a thin line at indulging in something as simple as your company and affection, but you could let him have this.

He deserved it after all. 

Twisting around, you planted a gentle kiss to his jaw, raising a hand up to tilt his face down towards you.

“Happy birthday, Katsuki.” You breathed, eyes shining with emotion. 

Two years. It had been two years since he demanded that you marry him. You couldn’t believe it when he asked you. 

Unlike most couples, you two hadn’t dated much at all. Your first date was a home-cooked meal at his apartment that he shared with Kirishima at the time, a day before the wedding. 

Your friends were shocked, to say the least. 

But you two were close. You might not have dated like how many people would classify it, but the two of you knew each other better inside out for most of your lives and was often the first one called whenever there was a villain incident that the other had gotten hurt in. 

Bakugou hadn’t cared that the public knew about you. He had originally wanted to keep it a secret so that you were better off in terms of safety-wise, but you had nothing to hide, telling him to let them try. 

They wouldn’t break you.

Your relationship might’ve seemed rushed to some, frantic and panicked, but it couldn’t be more off from the truth. 

The thing was, you just knew. You knew that if it was going to be anyone, if you could see yourself with one person for the rest of your life, it would be with him. 

No one else even came close. 

But you were still surprised when Bakugou admitted the same, just in fewer words. 

After going through everything, the USJ incident where you had gotten hurt taking a hit from the Nomu for him, the kidnapping where he was ripped away right in front of your eyes, to where he was the one to finally be able to rescue you during a break-in at Heights Alliance, he just knew.

Like you, after risking your lives for each other countless times and finding solace in each other after it was all said and done meant a lot. Meant more than he could put into words. 

You squeaked as the arms around you tightened out of the blue, concern filling your gaze as you leaned back into his chest. 

“Are you okay?” You asked softly, your small hands covering his on your waist as you sank into his embrace, tilting your head up so that you could see him clearly.

Bakugou’s vermilion eyes snapped towards you as he was broken out of his reminiscing. He grunted in your direction, internally wincing at how short he was being with you even if you didn’t even seem to mind. 

His wistful smile transformed into a full-blown smirk as you grabbed a piece of korean barbeque off of his plate and popped it in your mouth. 

Bakugou’s breath tickled your ear as he leaned forward and his low voice, though rough with exhaustion, held a touch of amusement. “I saw that, dumbass.” 

You blinked up innocently at him, kicking your feet childishly and he shook his head, pinching your side in retaliation. You jumped and smacked his chest, blushing deeply as a chuckle reverbated against your back. 

“Katsuki!!”

“Fucking dumbass.” He muttered into your hair, unconsciously catching a whiff of the coconut and pineapple shampoo you used. You smelled even sweeter than usual, it was dulling his senses. But he was not complaining. 

You smiled to yourself, snuggling into his warmth. It was quiet moments like this when there was nothing else but the company of him surrounding you and the ambiance of a safe place that you loved the most.

Heart at ease, you were surprised to hear that his heartbeat matched yours. 

Your teeth worried into your bottom lip cheekily and before he could tease you any further, you redirected his attention to his mostly untouched plate, insisting that he eat.

Bakugou was generally pretty good about staying on top of meals and eating healthy to balance out all the exercise he got working as a hero, but lately things had hit him hard and he had been slacking off more than usual.

You were quick to catch it before it got too bad though. 

Bakugou’s eyes shimmered with a hint of unspoken emotion. He was so lucky to have you.

Moving to get up so that you could get your food from across the table, you gasped as his arms squeezed around your midsection, preventing you from leaving.

“Don’t leave.” Bakugou muttered, his brow furrowed as a hint of a pout appeared on his face. 

You giggled softly at his childish antics. “I’ll be right back.”

He could be so clingy sometimes, not that you were complaining. You were just as bad. There was something about being in his embrace and letting him hold you that made you feel safe, made you feel like you were at home.

Although it was rare and far in between, he did occasionally let you cuddle him. It had taken a while into your marriage for his walls to come crumbling down, but once they did, you never once made fun of him for what he needed or asked for. 

Pouting when your beloved husband didn’t let you free, you blinked up at him with doe eyes.

You wiggled in his lap when he still didn’t release you. “Katsuki—”

“No.” He growled stubbornly. 

You sighed, trying to appear as disheartened as possible. “But I’m hungry.”

“You can eat my fucking food, dumbass.” Bakugou huffed.

Folding your arms over your chest stubbornly, you frowned. He wasn’t going to eat the food you made? Even after going all day without eating his meals?

Oh hell no. 

You squirmed in his lap, now trying to pry his unyielding grip off so that you could reach your own plate that was probably cold by now on the other side of the table. 

“Katsuki, please?” You pleaded and his frown faltered.

Why did you have to be so damn cute? It wasn’t fair.

While he was distracted, you swiped your plate from across the table and settled back into his lap cheekily, sighing contentedly as he was left in a stunned silence.

“Oi, what the fuck?”

You giggled, waving your chopsticks at him. “What the matter, Katsuki? Cat got your tongue?”

He glared at you but it faded as you laughed harder and he found a small smile lifting up the edges of his mouth.

Dinner consisted of light banter back and forth as he stuffed the food you had made in his mouth, begrudgingly admitting that it tasted good when you eagerly asked.

He tapped your hip to get you to stop squirming once you finished eating but you retorted that he was taking too long. 

He needed to finish, you had something to give him. 

Bakugou arched an eyebrow and purposefully went slower until you smacked his arm with an indignant cry at his audacity. He barked out a laugh, his chest shaking as you pushed out your bottom lip at him childishly.

“Fucking brat.” He muttered fondly and you beamed at the soft tone he took on.

“You love me~” You sang, pecking his cheek.

“Go die.” He hissed, attitude back faster than you could blink.

You insisted that he finish his meal before you revealed what you were holding back from him. 

Bakugou wasn’t going to admit that the curiosity was eating away at him as you dangled the unknown of his head like something to be played with and he was almost ashamed at how he quickened his pace.

Almost.

He didn’t react when you clambered off of his lap but his eyes widened when you climbed on top of the counter.

Chair scraping back and crashing to the tiled floor with how abruptly he stood up, he was by your side in a split second.

“Fuck— You’re going to fucking fall!!!” He cursed violently, chest heaving as he panted hard.

You giggled lightly, leafing through the spices you kept on the top shelf in order to find what you were looking for. “Relax, Katsuki, I’m fine.”

You started keeping them all on the very top after he dumped an entire bottle of chili pepper into your dinner one night. You were not amused at the shit-eating grin on his face that came from getting his fix of spicy food.

After that, it was only salt and pepper from then on, much to his dismay.

Bakugou didn’t look at all reassured by your words and he was strongly thinking about climbing up there with you just so he could catch you if you lost your balance when you squealed joyfully and hopped back down.

Thank fuck. You were going to give him a heart attack one day. 

After you ushered him to sit back down, you presented the culprit as to what your dodgy behavior was all about.

Bakugou’s vermilion eyes widened when you proudly handed him a carefully wrapped gift box. The pattern on the paper was simple and you didn’t go overboard with decorating it, settling for a small bow on top. 

He appreciated it. 

Even though to the untrained eye it looked like you hadn’t spent much effort, he knew that it was in fact the very opposite. He could see where you had meticulously folded the paper so that it laid flat and didn’t crease or wrinkle. The dark green bow vaguely reminded him of Deku, but more of the time when you said you loved the green in his hero costume because of how much it contrasted against his eyes. 

Your words, not his.

He couldn’t fucking care less about the color except for the fact that you said you liked it. That stuck with him more than he would’ve liked to admit. 

Bakugou’s hand shook slightly as he accepted the gift. “You weren’t supposed to get me anything, brat.”

You only rolled your eyes humorously, planting your hands on your hips. “Oh please, like I’m not going to get you something for your birthday.”

You may have had a habit of going all out for things like his birthday and holidays and he hated it because he never knew what to do with those warm, fuzzy feelings you left him with, giving him those wide smiles of yours that lit up the room as though he had created the universe and blinked up at him with your bright, loving doe eyes that melted his heart.

So instead, his competitive spirit spurred on to compensate for the lack of emotional capacity he had to deal with all of these unwanted feelings. 

It frustrated and flattered you to no end.

“You better fucking remember this when yours comes around then, dumbass.” Bakugou smirked, shooting you a sharp look when your jaw dropped. He would return the favor and go overboard when yours came around.

You blinked. The nerve he had. He knew you two were trying to save up funds so that you would have a stable foundation when you were ready to have kids. “W-Wait, Katsu—”

“Too late.” He rejected flatly, his eyes twinkling with a touch of amusement as he dodged your attempts to take back the present. 

His present. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bakugou snapped as you lost your balance and crashed face-first into his chest while trying to get it back.

You floundered for a second, trying to get your bearings but your husband was too fast and beat you to it. He set the box down in flash in order to catch you.

Hooking your legs around his waist so that you didn’t fall again, his palm splayed against your lower back, teasing with the hem of your shirt before it dipped underneath. 

You jolted as his warm hand came in contact with your chilly skin and you shivered. 

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed accusingly at you. “You’re cold.”

Blushing, you tried to hide only for him to be one step ahead of you and yank your wrists away from your face. 

“Fucking idiot.” He muttered to himself and you giggled, bouncing excitedly in his lap now that your life was no longer in danger from falling ungracefully off of a chair. 

“Open it, open it, open it!!” You chanted over and over again, tugging at his arm enthusiastically. 

Bakugou grimaced at your volume. “Stop fucking yelling in my ear, you shitty woman.”

But he froze and his whole body tensed the second he opened the lid. 

You blinked at him nervously, brushing back your hair anxiously as you waited for him to say something. Unable to wait as the silence stretched on, you pointed out each one of the items sitting in the container to explain what they were so he didn’t just think you gave him a pile of junk as a gag gift. 

“They’re specialized compression arm bands for when you’re out in the field to help reduce the muscle strain but they won’t be affected by your quirk, you’d have to try really hard to destroy them and even then—”

“Thank you.”

You stopped your nervous rambling and blinked up at him in shock. Was that genuine gratitude you detected in his voice without the usual mask of nonchalance?

You giggled, almost not believing your ears. He didn’t even bother disguising it. “Wow, the world must really be ending.”

“Shut the fuck up and die.” Bakugou hissed.

Ah, there it was. 

You grinned widely. “You really like it?”

“Course, you shitty woman.” He glowered, slipping them on to try it out. 

Bakugou remembered telling you about the strain overusing his quirk caused on his arms but when push came to shove, he didn’t care if he destroyed his body when it came to saving the day. But that was years ago. 

Back when you had first met and he had blown you up during a training session. Literally. The burns landed you in Recovery Girl’s office and after that, he had walked in to begrudgingly apologize but you just looked up at him with that same kind face that greeted him everyday and asked him if it always hurt to use his quirk for such huge blasts.

You weren’t even offended by the fact that he had hurt you. It was true that he didn’t ever hold back against opponents, even when training, but even he admitted that he might’ve gone too hard.

Maybe.

But to think you not only remembered it but also worked through that pretty brain of yours to come up with a solution like this. 

All the support tech in the world didn’t have a material that could withstand his nitroglycerin when he ignited it. 

You were incredible.

Bounding up to your feet eagerly, you didn’t give him any time to throw a tantrum that you had detached yourself from him as you begged for him to try them out. 

“Hah?” He glowered. “You want me to use my quirk indoors?”

But he raised his hands anyway. You were always the one to enforce the rule of him not using his explosion inside, since it was destructive even with his fine control over it. You must’ve been really excited to see him try it out.

His palms popped with sparks at first and he raised an eyebrow as a cooling sensation kicked in automatically. Slowly, he built up his power until he fired a controlled AP cannon that shattered the vase from across the room. 

You cheered and clapped your hands gleefully at how well it worked. It had changed blue when it activated, signaling that the cooling agent was doing its job.

Flexing his hands, Bakugou noticed how his arms weren't as sore as they normally were. 

He took them off and turned it over in his hands, examining it closely. “How did you do it?”

You went on a rant, enthusiasm taking over every inch of your being as you eagerly explained how you created the material, a hybrid of some sort of elastic that could withstand high heats woven in with a cooling agent to soothe his muscles when they were overworked. The threads that made up the compression bands were fireproofed down to their molecular level, an expensive process but possible with the right amount of funds, along with a ton of time and patience.

All of which you had as you spent a huge chunk on the money you had saved up for this.

Your husband’s expression softened into something that vaguely resembled fondness as your eyes shone with excitement over your newest piece of tech. Specially made just for him. 

Fuck, he was whipped.

Bakugou buried his face into your chest and you yelped in surprise, tugging his hair to pry him off of your body but he just groaned and stubbornly refused to move.

“Katuski!!” You protested, your hands shooting to the arms that were wrapped around your torso and pressing you close to him. “I’m dirty!!”

A blatant lie since you had bathed with him but you were desperate. This would inevitably end up in the bed if you didn’t push him off you right now. 

You had been working in the shop all day to finish these up, just able to wrap the specialized compression sleeves in time before he came home. And because all of your clothes were currently being washed since there was an accident in your workshop a few days ago, you had to throw on your dirty tank top and cargo pants after scrubbing it as best as you could; and it was not the most appealing or flattering on your body. 

It was clear your husband thought otherwise though.

“Don’t care.” Bakugou grumbled into your chest, his meaty hands going down to cup your butt.

You smacked his chest, telling him off, squeaking when he retaliated by squeezing your ass firmly. Rolling your eyes at the cheeky smirk on his face, you kissed his nose softly and his expression crumbled away to the softness that you knew had always lurked behind his guard.

“Happy birthday, Katsuki…” You whispered, a millimeter away from his lips. “I love you.”

You hadn’t even finished your declaration before his hand was snaking around the back of your neck, closing the distance in one go and crushing your mouth to his. 

You whined as he dominated your mouth, his tongue demanding entrance. You decided to play with him a bit and kept your lips pursed. He growled at your disobedience and you shifted giddily in his lap, yelping when he nipped your bottom lip. 

He groaned against your mouth as you ground your pelvis into his.

Bakugou thought this was going to go somewhere with how much you were teasing him but to his frustration, you climbed off of him, panting hard to catch your breath.

You winked. He knew that glint in your eyes. 

“Catch me if you can!!” You shouted over your shoulder as you sprinted towards the living room and took refuge behind the couch. 

“What the fuck….” He muttered under his breath, shaking his head at your childish antics as you raced out of view. 

He stomped into the living room. 

“Oi, get out from behind there, dumbass.” He growled.

When you didn’t reply, he rolled his eyes and tapped his foot impatiently. 

“I know you’re there, shitty woman.” “He drawled. “I can see your fucking foot.”

Your indignant squeak made the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement but the look was quickly wiped off of his face as a foam bullet whizzed past his ear. You had just declared war.

A wide smirk spread across Bakugou’s face at the invitation of a challenge and forgoing his shirt, he sank low to the ground. He didn’t even bother to take one of the other guns where they were stored. He was going to beat you in hand to hand so easily it was going to be embarrassing.

“Just remember when you fucking lose,” He started, cracking his knuckles loudly. “Don’t come crying, dumbass.”

“I don’t cry— Hey!! That’s cheating!!”

Your confident reply broke out into a whine halfway through your sentence as Bakugou leaped over the couch and tackled you to the floor, pushing the gun away so you couldn’t shoot at him anymore.

“You’re such a fucking child.” He snorted, stealing a kiss from you before you could say anything.

“But you love me anyways~” You sang, repeating your declaration from earlier as you booped his nose softly.

Bakugou huffed indifferently, a proud smirk stretching across his face as his true feelings won over. 

“Damn right I do.”

[deleteddewewted]

May I please request sour with Bakugou? After a really horrible argument in public, the reader gets in a fatal car accident after they run away from him on to the road pls?

Sour: Resolution

Bakugou x Gn! Reader

❤️🖤Sweet And Sour Event (May 21 - June 26)(JJK, MHA, KNY Characters Only!)❤️🖤

❤️🖤Sweet And Sour Event Masterlist❤️🖤

W: Major Character Death, Angst, Misunderstandings, Pain

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Date nights used to be these serene moments between the both of you, just filled to brim with love as you enjoyed each other’s company. Bakugou would plan in advance to make sure that he had at least 2 days off to enjoy it with you. He was usually pent and because of that, he would let it out via a romantic dinner and passionate sex after the fact. He was excited to spend his days off with you but date night was very different. It was the chance to be primal with you, to remind you and himself that you belong together. This relationship was worth all of the years of cultivation you both had put into it. But just like every other regular relationship there were downs. Bakugou prided himself in not arguing with you often, it was rare to end up having a fight about anything between the two of you but when you did argue it was always devastating. He usually felt that he was in the right because of his pride but he would quickly rationalize and apologize. He didn't like the idea of not being close to you and arguing was the only thing that made the distance suck even more. He was able to reflect on himself and he was able to accept that he was wrong, so why didn’t it work this time? Why didn’t his “I’m sorry” work?

The day started off great, he woke up with you in his arms and he left you to go into the agency early. It was his last day before going into his two-day break and that same night you were both going out to eat at a restaurant that you’d been dying to try out. He thought everything was fine, why wouldn’t it be, but your face, once he got out of the agency, said otherwise. You were frowning, a furious expression ever-present, and your skin was flushed. Your eyes looked red, almost as if you had been crying prior to meeting him, and your lip wobbled as you spoke.

“Katsuki, what the fuck is this?” You shoved your phone into his face and confronted him with a picture that some paparazzi took of him and Uraraka leaving the agency. It would have been a normal picture if it weren’t for the fact that his hand was on his lower waist and the pose that they were both in looked like they were kissing. He knew that it looked bad and he certainly could get the security camera footage to prove that your assumption and the press assumptions were false, but he was just too exhausted to bother.

 Bakugou reached out for you instead, his hands searching for your wrist so that he can pull you in closer to him. He tried to hold you in his arms but you struggled against him, pushing against his chest in an attempt to create distance.

“S-Stop- fucking cut it out! I’m trying to explain!” He let you go since you continued to struggle but he kept himself near you so that you could still feel his presence.

“NO! I don’t want to hear shit from you! How fucking dare you do this to me? To us!?” You turned to walk away but he once again grabbed you by the arm, this time his grip was firmer and harsher. His gloved hand was warm and it only grew warmer as he became agitated with your behavior. You were crying again and it only worsened the way he attempted to calm you down.

A group of people began to form around you both and the voices and looks that you receiving was too much. You felt suffocated the space suddenly being too constricted on your person. You pulled out of your boyfriend’s grasp and ran away from the crowd. Bakugou attempted to chase after you but cameras and prints of himself were shoved into his face before he had the chance to. You were distressed and you were crying. The likelihood of you getting hurt was higher and he needed to go stop you before you got injured by accident. He pushed and shoved anyone who got too close and ran after you. He heard a commotion in the distance and followed it. Nothing else on his mind other than getting you somewhere safe where he could explain himself and everything that was happening. He noticed a crash up ahead, a car was stopped in the middle of the intersection and a crowd had also formed around the vehicle. He pushed past the wall of people and ushered some away since there could be injured individuals who needed assistance. He walked to the front of the car and noticed an arm coming from under it. On the wrist was a silver bracelet with orange and red stones dangling from it. He knelt beside the person and hurriedly attempted to pull them out from under the car. Blood had pooled and trickled out of the person’s skull, their hair becoming wet and slicked against their scalp. He watched as his vision blurred and warm trickles of tears began to flow down his cheeks. Kirishima and other heroes who had received notice of the accident from civilians ran and lifted the car up from the person and watched in horror as Bakugou let out a guttural sob. Your eyes were gazing at the sky without a single thought behind them and your legs were broken and scrapped due to the impact of being hit by the car. Your phone was discarded beside you and your once flushed skin was slowly losing its color. Bakugou tried to reach for you again, to pull you in close while your body still retain some heat but the paramedics quickly came and placed you on the gurney. Kirishima tried consoling Bakugou but the latter pushed him aside and rushed to get into the ambulance with the paramedics who were attending to you. 

[laughingsapphic-creates]

This is too devastating I can't leave it like this. It did end up getting worse before it got better tho. I was gonna put it in the tags but it's too long, might properly flesh it out later but don't hold your breath over it lol

Every single JL member present is guilty as shit. If any of them had just stopped to ask the kid what he was doing, they could've figured things out, maybe even lent a hand. But they didn't and now this poor kid has to suffer for it

Superman offers a place to stay until they can figure something out. I imagine Danny's living in the woods where he could protect the portal when he wasn't out gathering pieces, and they can't exactly just leave him there. Danny is intensely distrustful but knows too well that people with the best of intentions can fuck up, so he lets himself be brought to the Kent farm

Once the frustration passes, he's just left with homesickness and a bone-deep exhaustion

Bats, supes and the rest are fkn ON👏THE👏CASE👏

They've got a complete list of everything Danny ever stole to make the portal and enough resources between them to recreate them. Sure it takes some finagling to get the schematics from Lex-Corp, but Tim's been splitting his waking hours between the Bat Computer and the Kent Farm, having Danny walk him through how he built this thing and offering improvements as they go. And at this point, he'd rebuild the damn portal from scratch by himself if it would get this kid to just smile.

Danny doesn't believe for a second all this effort will amount to anything, and doesn't hide it. He's told them they need pure ectoplasm to power the machine, and other members of the JL are looking for a source, but it's been a struggle. The Lazarus pits were considered, and are in fact ectoplasm. But it's more than corrupted, it's flat out rotten. It can't be purified enough to be made useful

Tim ends up roping the rest of Young Justice into visiting every now and then, because bad enough Danny is separated from everyone he's ever known and loved, he needs a few people his own age who can talk to him on more even ground. Ship as you please, I'm partial to Danny/Kaldur'ahm, but I'm also not picky.

With all these young vigilantes around, Danny actually pulls up out of his funk a little. If he's gonna get fully stuck in another dimension, one full of supers who kinda get what his life has been like isn't the worst option. He talks about his experiences with vigilantism and maybe takes advantage of the therapy offered by the JL (you can't have a superhero workplace and not have therapists in standby. Just because Bruce doesn't go does not mean it doesn't exist). They get him off the farm and even bring him to Mount Justice for movie and game nights. He spars with them a few times, but is already so weak, he stops after a few weeks

Now as the new ghost king, Danny's powers should be, well, growing. It didn't all hit at once, instead the power and authority of the High King of the Infinite Realms is something he was meant to grow into. But without the ambient ectoplasm of Amity or the Realms, the power essentially does not have the energy to support itself

He's ghost-starving, is what I'm saying

He's never been deprived of ambient ectoplasm for so long, and he was already lacking from the first attempt at a portal, so even though his mood has improved, he's just getting more and more tired.

A few hangouts at YJHQ have ended abruptly when they needed to go out to fight, but Danny's never gone with them. He'll watch the news on the monitors but he can't exactly be of any help.

Until one day, after an interrupted game of Clue, Danny watches as his friends get tossed aside, one by one. Any heroes that would normally pull in to help are off looking for a source of ectoplasm. A psychic attack downs Miss Martian. Kid Flash and Artemis are down for the count. Superboy gets Kryptonite waved in his face. Things are looking bad

So what's a ghost with a Protection obsession to do?

Come in clutch, of course

He only has the energy for a few attacks, but weeks to months spent not transforming have allowed his power to grow enough that a few is all it takes. Which is good, because Danny collapses right away. Robin and Aqualad go to him telling him that was azing! But also very stupid, he doesn't have the energy for this and he knows it! But Danny, exhausted as can be, is focused on the kryptonite that he knocked out of his opponent's grip. He asks them to bring it to him. They do, but ask why, as Danny looks at the crystal in wonder. He takes it from their hand

And crunches down on it like rock candy

So yeah, turns out kryptonite is actually crystalized death energy from the destruction of Krypton. Not ectoplasm per se, but a similar enough compound that Danny can convert it into ectoplasm by eating it

Connor, unfortunately, has to stay away from him for a day or two while he digests and transforms the energy, and again every time the JL - who are immediately informed of this update - find another piece to bring him. As a happy side effect, this literally eats up a fair amount of the kryptonite on this earth, making it a bit less available to anyone trying to hurt the supers.

So Danny can supply enough of his own ectoplasm to power up the portal, and romanceable-character-of-your-choice admits they're sad to see him go. But, he assures, if they leave the portal running, he'll be able to visit. He advised that they keep it closed most of the time, though, just so they don't get the same ghost problem as Amity

I just kinda spit this out without thinking too hard. Tag list is small so I'm not bothering w/ a cut

@screamingtofillthevoid @stargirl1331 @phoenixdemonqueen @notforyoucloudheads @fylylowo @meira-3919 @osnii @overtherose @naluforever3 @ihatelife2db @tiblii @thewondersoflebanon @kitty-page @bonchobrick

Danny is stuck in the DC Universe against his will. He is trying to build a Ghost Portal to try and get back home, but he needs to steal a bunch from the different High-Tech Companies in the DC Universe

So now Wayne-Tech, Lex-Corp, Palmer Industries, Star Labs, and everything else you can think of has been robbed by a Meta-Human Theif who can walk through walls, disappear, and fly

Eventually, Danny gets all the parts he needs for the Portal and starts to build it in some forest outside of Gotham.

At the same time, Constantine reports to the League that the small traces of magical green goo they found at each crime scene was Ectoplasm. Basically Death Energy in Liquid Form from a Dimension called the Infinite Realms. They figure out that all the parts put together could be used to build a Portal, and the Ectoplasm makes them suspect that he is trying to open a Portal the the Infinite Realms

Constantine says that the Ectoplasm has energy readings that suggest it is from the High King, but it is mixed in with a bunch of Human DNA. He suspects that Danny is a Thrall of Pariah Dark, created so he could open a Portal the the Infinite Realms and pave the way for his Invasion of their Dimension.

They find a way to track down the Portal, right when Danny is about to open it.

A final battle ensues as Danny desperately tries to defend his Portal, while the computer reads out the Countdown to the Portal Opening. When the timer reaches 1, Batman finds a Bomb near the Portal Opening and throws it into the tunnel, destroying the entire Portal in one go.

They all stand back, watching as Danny stops and collapses in front of the destroyed Portal. Constantine warns them to be careful, Pariah Dark is a being of pure hatred, and once they piss off his Thrall he will attack them with all his angered might. "This bloke is about to explode. Once he realizes what he's looking at, he's gonna-"

But he is cut off when they hear drops of water hiting the ground, coming from the direction of the Portal. Danny is silently crying, looking at all his hard work go to up in flames.

They are all stunned. Constantine warned them that the Thralls of Pariah Dark were incapable of any emotion other than Anger, that they were completely sadistic monsters who took pleasure in ripping Mortals apart piece by piece. But this wasn't anything like that.

This was a Child, crying on his knees while staring at his Portal he had worked so hard to build.

"Why?" He asks.

"You were going to open a Portal to the Infinite Realms. We know you are a Thrall of Pariah Dark, you would have let his army through to our dimension."

"But Pariah Dark is dead."

"If he was dead, then why did we find traces of the King's energy in your Ectoplasm?"

"I'm beat him a few months ago. I'm the new king."

"Wait, so why were you trying to open the Portal?"

"I just wanted to see my family again. It wasn't even going to be open for long, I had a bomb ready to destroy it behind me..."

The Justice League realizes they all fucked up.

[mara-xx217]

Pokes head

May I request Michael being a possessive daddy and fighting a killer who hurt his girlfriend ? It can be anyway you like 💙

Why of course you can~ This isn’t based in Dbd, but the normal world. Hope you don’t mind!

Possessive, Protective Mikey

You were like some sort of disease to Michael. Or, perhaps, a parasite was a better descriptor of how you affected him. You wormed your way into him, deep into his chest, right beside his cold, soulless heart. You made him… feel, regardless of what that actually meant, it was beyond unacceptable in his eyes. That warm, painful throbbing in his chest was more than distracting, it was nauseating, disturbing. Terrifying… In a sick, twisted, wrong way, you terrified the Shape of Haddonfield. Michael fucking Myers was absolutely terrified of a small, defenseless creature that was completely helpless against the evil and cruelty he wielded against the world. He should kill you a hundred thousand times over for this transgression! But… it wouldn’t make him feel any better. He only… feels more empty every time your cheeks are stained with tears. Cold. Dead. Michael would feel dead without you…

This isn’t the first time he’s caught someone hurting you. It’s happened many, many times over, and his reaction has ranged from blinded rage to searing hatred. Not just for the one harming you, but towards you, yourself. It was that lack of control that drove Michael insane. He couldn’t watch you 24/7, couldn’t always follow you around or know where you were at any given moment… It drove him fucking crazy, and he took that frustration out on not just the asshole unfortunate enough to have crossed paths with you, but onto you, as well.

But, even that was quickly losing its luster to him. Michael had thought that hurting you would bring him some sort of fulfillment, like it has always done in the past when he had hurt others. It never has, though. Sure, he’s lied to himself, trying desperately to convince himself that seeing you all small, all scared and teary-eyed brought him a measure of enjoyment, to have your blood on his hands, to have you groveling in terror before him- but it didn’t. It- He- Michael felt… not good, when that happened. You made him… stop to consider how his actions would affect you, and he hated that.

Michael despises that you’re a magnet for trouble. That you just can’t seem to stay the hell away from people that want to do you harm. Sure, he doesn’t mind killing them. Quite the opposite, in fact, he rather enjoys seeing them covered in their own blood, begging for their pathetic lives before he mercilessly snuffs them out. No, Michael hates that you get hurt in the first place. The only one that should ever have the right to put their hands on you was him! Him, and him alone. Anyone else would be destroyed.

Some wannabe serial killer punk had set his eyes on you. Luckily for you, Michael knew better than to leave you to your own devices, anymore. He caught the little bastard scoping out your home before you had any idea of the danger you were in. He’d make sure that, this time, he’d be in complete control of the situation. You won’t be hurt, but that idiot thinking that he can do as he pleases? He’s going to regret the day he was born…

Sitting in your kitchen, you drank what must be your fifth coffee of the night. Strange things were happening, and it left you unable and unwilling to sleep at night. Rustling outside your windows, the sound of someone possibly jimmying your doors and windows, looking for a possible way in… Muddy footprints on your porch and small, dead animals left on your door mat… It was becoming too much. You’re… pretty sure it wasn’t Michael. He did love to torment you, but this wasn't really his thing. He was much more… direct, with his approach to you. This… this was someone else…

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you rub your eyes, feeling them water involuntarily from how dry they were. Anxiously, you tap your fingers on the top of the counter, before sighing heavily and grabbing your coffee mug. You decided to make your way to the living room, thinking that some TV would help calm your nerves and get your mind off of things. Fuck, I’m exhausted… You thought bitterly as you crashed onto the couch, nearly spilling lukewarm coffee all over yourself.

Picking up the remote, you absentmindedly flipped through channels, not really wanting to watch anything. It was just something else to focus on, rather than the impending sense of dread that was washing over you. This feeling was one that you were well acquainted with: the feeling of being watched. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your palms were slick with sweat. Slowly, you sit up, clumsily placing your mug on the table in front of you. The hairs on your entire body stood on end. Something’s not right here…

As you begin to rise off the couch, a firm hand pushes you back down into a sitting position. Your heart jumped up into your throat. You’re very familiar with Michael’s hands, and the one still gripping your shoulder was much, much smaller than his… Short, shaky breaths escaped through your clenched teeth. Fuck..! Oh shit- Oh my God no no no-! You don’t dare to move, only stare straight ahead at nothing as your mind runs wild with possibilities. Who the hell is it?! How did they get in?! Why me?! Where the fuck is Michael when I fucking need him?!?

The intruder sucks in a deep breath, as though he’s about to say something, but instead yelps in surprise as he’s ripped away from you suddenly and violently. You gasp, shooting up and scrambling across the room, back peddling into an opposing corner. Curling in on yourself, you crumple onto the floor, watching the brutality unfolding before you through the cracks of your fingers.

Michael had thrown the intruder back, sending him crashing into a mostly bare bookshelf, breaking most of the shelves along with it. You cringe and jump, feeling your insides twist and revolt against you. Michael drops to the floor, straddling the winded, smaller man as he desperately tries to fight back. Vainly. It was laughable, really. The idiot didn’t stand a chance against the human incarnation of evil, itself.

Michael briefly debated on playing with his food. There was something about seeing them crawl and beg that really set him off, but when he glanced at you over his shoulder, in the fetal position and hyperventilating, he actually decided against it. It was getting under his skin seeing you like this, and the quicker this is… inconvenience is dealt with, the quicker things will be back to normal. Well, to Michael’s fucked up definition of the word “normal”, that is.

With a quick stab to the back of his neck, the intruder was killed. Normally, Michael would have painted the walls with this creep’s blood, but he decided that it would be too much of a pain in the ass to clean up. With a flick of his wrist, Michael twists and pulls out the blade, wiping the excess blood onto the back of his victim’s shirt. He looks back over to you, and sees you stiffen. His… Huh. His chest actually hurts…

With a heavy sigh, he stands, stepping over the dead body as he makes his way over to you. A major part of you was beyond terrified. Is he gonna hurt me..? Oh- Oh God..! I’m gonna- I’m- I’m gonna..! You were trembling, shaking so hard that your teeth were actually chattering audibly. Michael’s eye twitched. He was conflicted: one part of him loved that you were this scared of him, as you should be, but the other… the other hated it. He- Well, he wanted… something, but he just didn’t know what. Fingers twitching, he reached out to you, struggling to ignore how you froze as he slowly approached you.

You really thought that he was going to grab you by the hair and drag you off to the bedroom, so when his fingertips just barely brushed the top of your head, moving the hair from your face, you were, well… at a bit of a loss. Michael has never, ever been that gentle while touching you. Ever. You raise your head slightly, just enough so that you could see him. He still had that damn mask on, of course, and his body language hardly betrayed what he was thinking or feeling, but- You couldn’t deny that his fingers were trembling ever so slightly.

He slowly crouches in front of you, treating you as though you're some kind of animal that will either bolt at the slightest movement or go for his jugular, or something like that. You don’t move or speak, unsure of what he was doing. When he placed his hand where that stalker touched you, gently- carefully squeezing your shoulder as though you were made of glass, you… you relaxed.

You could tell that he was struggling to be gentle, with how his fingers twitched uncontrollably and the pressure of his fingertips varied. You looked up to him, then down at his chest as an odd warmth spread through your cheeks. Michael was extremely possessive over you. He hated it when you interacted with anyone else, especially other men. But, right now, even though another man had touched you, he wasn’t flying off the handle like he usually did. He was still extraordinarily pissed off that he had given the bastard just enough time to physically touch you, but it was remedied.

He was fucking dead, and you were still here. You were his and his alone. That wasn’t called into question. There was no dispute. Michael Myers is the only person that is ever allowed to touch you. You’ve come to accept this, and slowly but surely, you’re even beginning to enjoy his touch. As sick and messed up as it was, you’ve started to develop feelings for him, despite the fact that he made your life a living hell. If anything, you knew that no one would hurt you ever again. No one, except for him.