#like girl he saw his best friend's corpse on the floor. almost all his teachers died. his mentor almost died. his friends almost died.

[aromanticannibal]

Weirdly i haven't seen ppl being mean abt Izuku this time around. My timeline everywhere is just

Bkdk from Jp artists. Izuku sensei. Bkdk from american artists. Izuku thirst trap. Kacchan thirst trap. Bnha movie/game. Izuku sensei. Izuku sensei. Izuku sensei. Porn of random character

The little i saw abt that collab are people being sad they can't get the burger combo or smth.

godbless

[simply-trash5]

PuppetBoy

Okay Kankuro simps, got some more juice for ya! Seriously this was so fun to write. It is a college AU about Kankuro and a reader. I am pretty proud of it. I would love to write some things for you so PLEASE request. Seriously. I’ll even try smut (I’ve never written it before so we’ll see how it goes). Drop them in the ask box and if you like what you read you should totally tell me because i am a self conscious bean.

What the hell is that noise? You think to yourself as you look around. It sounded terrible. Whatever car was making that noise was definitely on it’s last leg. You nod your head realizing it was the same guy you see everyday parked across from the education building at your college. You could hear loud metal playing from the speakers and the windows shaking as he pulled into the lot. He jumped out,slammed the door and gave the tire a swift kick. Wow he’s kinda cute. He stood almost 6 ft. tall and had on a black hoodie that hung lightly over his brown hair. His black jeans had rips in the knees and you could see he was wearing scuffed black DocMartens. You continued to follow him with your eyes as he passed you walking toward the theatre building. He had an eyebrow ring and gauges. Oh shit, I think he caught me staring. He looked at you, scoffed and kept walking toward the theatre building. Is he a theatre major? You wondered to yourself. Maybe he just has to take a fine art credit. Letting your thoughts wander you pulled the straps on your bookbag tighter and walked to your class in the education building. 

The class seemed to drag on forever, and you knew after that you had to go to your nannying job which would take up most of the evening. You wished that you didn’t have to have a job, but unfortunately scholarships didn’t cover all of your tuition. You grabbed your keys from your pocket and headed toward the parking lot. Climbing into your car you started the engine and began making your way to your job. You loved kids, so nannying was a great gig for you. When you arrived at the home of a doctor in your area you were greeted by a small boy with a large grin. “Ms. Y/N, can we go to the children’s theater today? Mom said we could go if it was okay with you, she even left my booster seat so you can drive!” You giggled and shrunk down to his height. “Well if your mom says it's okay, it's fine by me. Let’s grab your jacket and booster seat and we will leave.” The small child ran into the house. His mother approached you. “Thank you so much for watching Trevor,I know he is a handful but i'm rather fond of him.” You gave her a huge smile and told her that it was no problem and explained that you were going to take him to the children's theatre. She said her goodbyes and you walked into the house to retrieve the boys booster seat so that you all could make the 4:00 production of the Three Little Pigs. 

The little boy sitting in front of you on the floor giggled wildly as a wolf puppet “ran” off stage. You smiled down at him. The curtains closed and the crowd gave them a round of applause. The stage hands and puppeteers began to disassemble the set so that they could get ready for the next show when you saw a familiar face. It's car boy. You smiled in his direction, and didn’t realize you may have looked at him a little too long. “Hey, take a picture, it will last longer.” The mysterious boy gave you an annoyed look and a blush began to creep up your face. He was wearing a tight black tshirt that showed off his muscular arms and his tattoo of a sandtimer on his forearm. “Come on Trevor, lets head home,” you said steering the young boy out of the theatre.

“Oh my god what did you say back?” your friend was screeching on the other side of the phone. “Well, see, I just kinda left.” you explained not wanting to relive the embarrassing moment. “Y/N, you have got to do something tomorrow. You’re going to see him in the parking lot and you don’t want it to be weird.” You were twirling your hair around your finger staring at your phone. “Y/N are you still there?” You snapped back to reality, “yeah, I think I will buy him a cup of coffee. I’m sure he never sleeps like the rest of us. He is a college student.” You both finished your conversation and you got ready for bed. You set your alarm early so that you could go to a coffee shop and grab him a coffee to make up for the awkward run-ins you had the last few days. 

“God its early” you whined to yourself but got ready anyway. You had to make a better impression on puppet boy. You gathered your things and headed out the door and made your way to a local coffee shop. You grabbed your latte and then decided it was best to just give him black coffee. You drove to your college thinking about the handsome stranger all the way there. His brown hair was shaggy and fell right into his eyes, which you melted at the thought of his hair being pushed out of his face. Your mind started to drift to what your next move would be as you pulled into the parking lot. Okay, it's 7:45 he should be here any minute. Shit what should I do? In a moment of extreme confidence you grabbed a pen out of your backpack and messily scribbled your phone number on the side of the paper cup. God I hope this works. You took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. You could hear him coming for at least a mile. Alright Y/N you cannot chicken out now. He rolled in and slammed his car door as he had every morning for the earlier part of the semester. It's now or never, you've got this shit. You beelined toward his car. He realized you were approaching and looked at you with a strange face. You immediately got nervous. You just sat the coffee cup on the hood of his car, turned on your heel, and quickly walked to the education building. “HEY! HEY COME BACK!” You heard him calling after you as you continued on your way to class cursing yourself the entire time.

Buzz

You grabbed your phone from your pocket. An unknown number had sent you a text. “How do I know you didn’t drug this coffee so you can turn my corpse into a puppet?” you laughed at the text and a blush spread over your cheeks. “Now why would I do that?” you replied. You typed “Also that is oddly specific” “What can I say, I like puppets?” The conversation continued for the next few days. You saw him a few times on campus but you never spoke in person. He would send you funny memes and videos at all hours of the night. Apparently puppetboy is a night owl. “Um btw, we’ve been talking for days and I still don’t know your name. What should I call you.” “My name is Kankuro.” “Well Kankuro, my name is Y/N. Its nice to put a name with a face.”

Shit I’m never gonna finish this run. You thought to yourself as you continued to run on the treadmill. You had your headphones in and music blaring. You loved to run and hadn’t been to the gym in a few days due to all of your nannying obligations. Okay, only a half mile more to go, you thought to yourself as you pushed your body to keep running. Out of nowhere you felt a large calloused hand on your shoulder. You snapped your head “Hey listen creep I-” before you knew it you were falling only to be caught by Kankuro. “Y/N you falling for me already?” Kankuro flirted giving you a tight smirk. You were shocked, not only by the fall, but by the arms around you. They were strong and helped steady you with ease. He was wearing a dark grey tank top which showed his muscles and tattoo off wonderfully. His legs were muscular too and looked amazing in the black shorts he was wearing. In his other hand he had a pair of boxing gloves. You began to blush and he realized you were staring at him, imagining what he looked like under that tank top. Your hand crept up to your neck where you fiddled with your necklace. He gave you a small chuckle. “I’ve got to go spar with my buddy, but if you want to you can meet me out front in an hour.” You smiled and shook your head and he turned and walked away. The shorts hugged his bottom perfectly and the tank top showed his shoulder muscles. You could see another tattoo on his back. Was it puppet strings? You pursed your lips and began to blush. I would love to see those strings up close. 

The hour wait seemed like the longest hour of your life. You waited out in front of the gym as he came bounding out the door. He was sweating and his shaggy hair was sticking to his forehead. He walked over to his car and opened the door. It made a horrendous screech as it opened and you stifled a laugh. “Whats so funny princess? Just for that we gotta walk to get food.” You blushed. Did he just call me princess? Why was that so hot? “Come on, I’m starving,” he said and began walking down the sidewalk. You walked hurriedly to match his long strides. Damn my short legs. “So Kankuro, where are we going?” he gave you a crooked grin. “Its a surprise.” You giggled and retorted “well how do I know you’re not trying to get me alone and turn my corpse into a puppet?” He gave you a devilish grin, “Well sweetheart lets find out.” Another pet name. Your face turned bright red and you stared at the sidewalk. You approach a deli that you frequent with your friends. “I love this place,” you exclaimed. “Well don’t be weird and actually order some food. I like a girl with an appetite.” You laughed and smiled. You ordered your usual and he ordered grabbing your food and heading outside to a table. You both began eating and chatting casually about your lives. You found out he loves horror movies, especially ones that feature creepy dolls or puppets. You also learned that he has a lot of horror memorabilia in his apartment and that he rarely sleeps. He boxes to keep himself busy when hes not working as a children’s puppeteer. He is studying theatre with concentrations in stage management and special effects makeup. “Kankuro, thats really fucking cool,” you said and began to tell him about yourself. You were studying to be a teacher and nannying as a job to make money for college. You lived in an apartment around the corner from the deli with a friend. “So Kankuro I noticed the sand timer on your arm, do you have any other tattoos?” He gave you another devilish grin.”Yeah I have a back piece that is marionette strings. I’ve loved puppets since I was little so I thought it would be cool. Do you have any tattoos?” You blushed. You stood and pulled up your athletic top to show a tattoo of your family's crest on your hip. You had to pull your shorts down ever so slightly revealing your black lacy underwear. He looked at the tattoo and then back to your face. “Thats a nice one,” he said and rubbed the back of his neck. The conversation continued and you all talked more about your semester and your family. You laughed and told him about how you liked to run and also about how you thought it was cool he was a boxer. “Maybe one day we can spar angel,” he flashed a smile in your direction and you smiled back at the thought. You both got up from the table and threw your trash away. It was dark and cool. You pulled your jacked tighter around your shoulders. “I guess I am going to walk home and let you get back to the gym.” Kankuro shook his head “absolutely not doll, its dark and I’m walking you home.” You blushed. Another pet name, this boy is gonna be the death of me. 

You began walking toward your apartment and your hands brushed several times by accident. “Damn Y/N if you wanted to hold my hand that bad all you had to do was ask. I aim to please.” You blushed and then punched Kankuro. “Still want to spar?” you said cheekily. You both walked in silence but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if you had known him your whole life. The comfort of him walking beside you felt so nice. “Well this is my apartment.” You sighed and reached for the door. 

BAM

The door slammed shut and you noticed a strong arm beside your face. Kankuro looked down at your lips and smirked. You began to blush. The tension was so thick. I swear im going to pass out. Your heart began racing as he leaned into you. Your back was pressed against the glass of the door with a strong arm beside your head. His other hand made its way to your tattooed hip, he drew circles over your ink with his calloused thumb. His hands were so large that you could feel his fingertips on your back. The heat rose to your cheeks. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against your lips. He pulled back, his hand still burning a hole into your hip bone. You opened your eyes to see a smirked Kankuro. You were in shock when he reached his other hand to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face. Your thoughts raced, you wanted nothing more to bring him up to your apartment and let him give you that devilish grin some more. 

“Guess I’m not a killer princess. Text me.” He chuckled, turned on his heel and walked back toward the gym. You watched him until he walked out of sight. You were ready to see him again and maybe see more of that back tattoo.

[renxamamiya]

The Sins of Your Mistakes Weigh Heavily On My Soul

A03 Link Here

My half of a tradefic with @wildcard-rumi. This is based on my Theatre of Mirrors AU and her Takuto is Ren's Dad AU, specifically on her 'Buried Memories' series.

Go have a read of her AU, it's amazing and I love it. As for people waiting for Theatre of Mirrors don't worry, I've been busy/exhausted with other personal projects and life that I haven't really got the time/motivation to write it. But I will hopefully put something out before March!

Sumire: Hello, Dr. Maruki-San Sumire: Can you come to Leblanc today? There’s something we need your help with. Sumire: It’s about Ren.

---

Takuto stared at Sumire’s message on his phone, his fingers awkwardly tapping against the hardwood that made the Leblanc counter. It had been a while since he’d met the rest of the thieves; more than a year had passed since he’d tried to force a false reality to the whole of humanity, one where there was no concept of pain, only placid happiness in which the wildest dreams had come true. It came with a price: the stagnation of humanity, one where no one had to struggle, had to fight for what they wanted. He did it out of kindness, of course; to save everyone from the pain he experienced, from the pain his son had to endure... Looking back upon his mistake, he found it ironic that his sole reason to plunge humanity in a reality of ignorant bliss was the one who unravelled his plans at the seams.

It wasn’t as if Ren didn’t have his share of anguish, yet Takuto was too aware he had condemned his son to nothing but suffering. A clumsy night in the early hours during his time in college, Ren having to grow up without a traditional, nuclear family... Him having to witness Rumi’s death, traumatized, only then to have his memories wiped... Takuto still found the memory of Ren in the hospital room hard to swallow, the time where he’d used his Persona’s powers to alter reality, to make him happy. Reflecting upon it with his changed heart, he now realised that his good intentions would have led humanity into a Hellish existence; though he didn’t regret it one bit as he wouldn’t have reunited with his son in the first place.

He nestled the cup of coffee he had close to him, taking a sip from it, savouring the complex flavours intertwined with the tangy bitterness of the roast. Sakura-san had kindly brewed a cup for him to enjoy before closing the shop temporarily for his meeting with Ren’s friends, Takuto graciously accepting the cup and paying for it, waiting anxiously for the group to arrive. A ring of the bell caught his attention, Takuto whipping his head to see Sumire’s eyes peering from the frames of her glasses. She smiled upon seeing him, rushing into the quiet cafe followed by the other thieves before giving him a quick bow, “Good morning, Maruki-sensei,” she greeted, and Takuto laughed at her extreme politeness.

“You don’t have to be so formal, Yoshizawa-san,” Maruki laughed, “I’m not your teacher anymore, and I did come here because you asked, after all,”

He looked over to the rest of the group, the thieves minus Sumire sitting in the booths, their faces solemn as they looked away from his gaze. Takuto frowned; he had spotted Morgana quietly curled on Haru’s lap, the girl running her fingers in his fur absent-mindedly, looking worried at the cat with worry. Another sweep of the room with his eyes, distress welling inside him. Before Sumire could even speak, having noticed his panicked expression he asked out loud to the room: “Where’s Ren? Has something happened to him?”

“That’s... what we want to talk to you about,” Makoto said, yet she found it hard to look Takuto in the eyes. The feeling of unease between the thieves grew between them, the worried glances they exchanged only made him more anxious.

“What happened? Is he okay?” he stuttered, jumping from his seat, “Did he get into some sort of trouble? Is he in danger?” Each time he asked them the group winced, Sumire’s cheerful expression evaporated as she watched Takuto beg for any sort of information, each question curling the corners of her frown deeper on her face, “I need to know, please tell me: what is going on?”

“It’s... hard to say,” Ann replied to his plea, “It... he...”

“Ren’s gotta Palace,” Ryuji huffed, stoic at Takuto’s shocked reaction, “We’ve been infiltration’ it for some time now,”

“He has a Palace?!” Takuto’s eyes widened, shocked at this revelation, “W-when did he get one? Does that mean that world... the Metaverse came back? How-”

“We don’t know,” Makoto tried her best in answering him, her voice understanding at his floundering confusion, “We don’t know when the Palace had been formed, but when it did fully form it brought back the Metaverse with it,”

“And Mementos too,” Futaba added, “The whole thing, and his Shadow has been manipulating it too for his own goals,”

“Just like...” Takuto swallowed, still bewildered at this newfound knowledge, “But why? Do any of you know?”

“He has mentioned a performance of some kind,” Yusuke said, ��One ‘of a lifetime’, it isn’t wrong to suspect his plans with Mementos had something to do with it,”

“Have you noticed something with the public, Maruki-san?” Haru asked him, her expression curious, “We’ve been noticing ourselves the renewed interest in the Phantom Thieves out in public, even selling Phantom Thief merchandise again,”

“I... I have,” Takuto swallowed, loosening the buttons of his coat, his hands shaking in the warm air of the cafe, “I’ve heard things on the radio about the Phantom Thieves; passengers would always mention about them to me, but I always thought it was because of the anniversary of your first heist that brought interest back. Kamoshida, right?”

Ryuji and Ann cringed at the mention of Kamoshida, Takuto immediately regretting his words, “S-so anyway, where is Ren? He has a Palace, but I assume-”

“He’s trapped inside of it,” Takuto whipped his head to look at the cat, Morgana, rising from his listless nap upon Haru’s lap to talk to him, “For some reason his shadow’s keeping him in there. No idea why, but what we do know is that he’s kept at the top floor,”

“Trapped inside...” Takuto repeated under his breath, rolling the words on his tongue as he tried desperately to even comprehend the situation. Heavy silence soon fell amongst the group. Takuto bit his lip, was he the one who caused this?

Makoto cleared her throat, snapping the room back into attention “There’s a vital area of the Palace he refuses to open up for any of us, Takuto. Anyone but you, that is, according to his shadow,”

Takuto looked at her in thought, contemplating her words, they churned in his mind. He looked at the polished floor of the cafe, his lips pursed. He curled his fingers into a fist, his chest tightened, Takuto blinking the tears from his eyes as they arose.

He looked back up at the thieves, their eyes filled with hope, pleading for him to assist them in saving his son.

“Alright, I’ll go with you to his Palace; Ren’s Palace,” he said.

---

“Is this?”

Takuto gazed at the foyer before him, watching the humanoid cognitions before him, all of them chatting to and fro, paying no mind to the thieves, all of them wearing masks. Light from the scarlet day of the outside shone wonderfully through the stained-glass windows. He gazed uneasily at the statue that nestled itself between the two ascending stairs, gulping down the stress and anxiety he felt, staring at an uncharacteristically pompous statue of his son.

“The Palace is becoming more unstable with each trial we complete,” Goro informed him, Takuto still bewildered by the mere fact that he was alive, and more importantly, helping the thieves with their infiltration, “I’d advise you to keep your wits and do whatever the shadow wants you to do, we can’t risk it prematurely collapsing,”

Takuto nodded, intimidated by the former detective, barely hiding the disdain he felt towards the former councillor. He had almost condemned the entirety of reality to one of false bliss, forcing his wants onto the entirety of reality. He also understood Goro still felt bitter towards him with erasing Ren’s memories, making him suffer, the infallible leader a mess in the confrontation of his recollections, having no way to cope with any of them. Sure, he had come out on top of them, able to power through his relieved anguish of losing Rumi, of losing his father, of having to witness her...

“It certainly has seen better days,” the bespectacled man sighed. He could still see signs of grandiose and luxury in the untended chaos of the tatters and scratches that accented each curtain and carpet, as if abandoned and allowed to rot with time. A part of him still wanted to deny the sight before him, still rationalised that nothing about this was real, that his son was back in reality, that he was safe, that this was some sick prank conjured up by his friends.

All those wishful thoughts Takuto had mustered quickly dashed when he saw the figure stood before them. Waiting.

“-And remember, refer to him as Joker, not Ren,” Goro hissed in his ear, “All we can do is appease him unless... well, I don’t suppose you’d like to end up as a corpse, would you?”

“I- Thank you, Akechi-san,” Takuto gulped, nodding in acknowledgement of Goro’s warning before turning towards his son. Though they were meters apart it felt like they were looking across the maw of a canyon. With a step, and then another, Takuto walked towards his son.

“Hello, dad,”

“Hello, Joker,” Takuto responded to the shadow’s greeting, already unnerved by his eyes, no longer grey but golden. Was this a shadow his friends constantly mentioned about, the dark, repressed side of the individual? Takuto had never gotten a chance to meet such a being, the ruler of his own distortions, he was the one who sat atop of his warped heart, ruling them with a gentle hand. He had his familiar outfit on, his will of rebellion, Takuto recalling seeing it when the thieves confronted him to change his heart. Though it was the differences that unsettled him: his dapper vest shining in scarlet red, his mask, black and golden, greatly increased the eerie glow of his eyes, “You wanted to see me?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I want to see my own father,” Joker said, words dripping with sarcasm, “It’s been a while since we last sat down and talked, I’m really starting to miss it a lot,”

“Likewise?” Takuto said cautiously, fearful of what the shadow’ll do to him if he misspoke, “I would like to spend some time catching up with you, if that is your reason for summoning me of course,”

“It was! You know me so well, father,” Joker smiled, and hand raised and the click of his fingers, a door swung open among the foyer, “Come, come with me, we have a lot to talk about I’m sure,”

---

The theatre room led him into nothing but a featureless void Takuto discovered, empty as if he was transported to another world. The Phantom Thieves, Ren’s friends, did warn him about the possible dangers that he had to face, Takuto still willing to plunge into whatever trial Ren - Joker - wanted him to face. The shadow unnerved him yes; he reasoned that anyone would be uncomfortable with the confrontation with the shadow of a loved one, their dark, inner thoughts giving shape in a distorted environment. A ‘Palace’ the thieves called it. Walking in the directionless void he hoped deeply his knowledge of the Metaverse could aid him in whatever Joker wanted him to endure. He had to save his son from himself, and this time he wasn’t going to run away from him, Takuto told himself.

“Daddy?”

Takuto’s heart jumped in his throat, him turning instinctively towards the sound of a child whimpering in the darkness. The voice was familiar, too familiar, a beacon that guided Takuto in the dark, or a lure to ensnare him into the jaws of his doom, Takuto rushing towards it with haste all the same.

“Daddy? Where are you?”

“Ren!” Takuto shouted, clambering toward the terrified child, tripping on his own feet with every other stride he took in a desperate, maddened haste to reach his crying son. He didn’t consider the possibility of the apparition of his crying son to be a trap, only instinct carried him forward until he approached the small cognition.

Grey, watery eyes full of innocence stared back at him, the small form of Ren clutching tightly onto a distinct plush of a cat. Takuto’s heart melted as he knelt to his level to address the boy, to show him that he meant no harm, the boy shying away into the fur of his toy.

“I’m here for you, Ren,” Takuto cooed, reaching out his arms towards the frightened boy. The young Ren stopped his crying. He looked at Takuto’s inviting, outstretched arms; and then at him, Takuto gave him a smile that radiated safety and love.

“Who-who are you?” from the stuttering, fearful cognition was the reaction that Takuto did not expect, his face falling in confusion, his bemusement matched with the smaller Ren that stared blankly back at him. Takuto tenderly brushed the mess of hair away from Ren’s eyes.

“I-I’m your dad,” Takuto said reassuringly, yet the cracks of his tone betrayed the melancholic feelings that welled inside of him. To see those grey eyes gaze upon him, wide and curious and with wholly innocence broke his heart, “There’s no need to be scared, Ren. I’m here now, I’ll protect you,”

Young Ren looked at him, slightly backing away from the unfamiliar, familiar man in front of him, “I... I don’t... I don’t remember, if you’re my dad I don’t remember you! I don’t-”

“Hey, calm down,” Takuto said, yet he respected the distance Ren had put between them, “It’s alright to forget sometimes, which is why we need others to help us remember,”

“I-”

“Do you trust me, Ren?” Takuto asked the frightened child. Young Ren looked at him hesitantly, clutching the stuffed toy in his arms closer against his chest. He looked down onto the floor, pausing in contemplation.

“I... Guess so,” Young Ren mumbled shyly, eyes flickering between the floor and Takuto that reminded the bespectacled man so much about Ren in his younger years. He gestured for the child to sit down in front of him, Young Ren doing so obediently, the both of them folding their legs as they sat cross-legged on the murky floor.

“Now, do you remember anything about your father?” Takuto asked, adopting a more professional persona with inquiring the boy, “Anything at all?”

“Well, I think he wears glasses,” Young Ren started, curling his small thumb and finger before holding them up to his face, peering into the holes he had made with his hands, “They’re really big on his face. He wears them a lot, and I barely see him take them off,”

“That’s good, what else do you remember?” Takuto asks, amazed at Ren’s recollection, the boy knitting his eyebrows in concentration.

“And... He had brown hair,” Ren recalled, his hands moving to his head, “Brown hair that was really long and wavy, but not too long like a girl’s. He also had brown eyes... and...”

“And?”

“He would watch Featherman with me,” Ren said, “Every Saturday, he would wake up just to watch Featherman with me. I would always ask which Featherman he liked the best a-and he would ask me who was mine, and it was-”

“Featherman Red,” Takuto finished, Young Ren’s eyes widening, “I remember. I’ve always remembered,”

“A-and,” Ren continued, his cheeks slightly flushed against his skin, “I remember whenever he came home he would always bring apples! He’s not good at cooking them, but I didn’t mind eating them anyway, because he would always bring home the really tasty ones,”

And the child continued his recollection, Takuto’s small smile that sat on his lips grew a little wider with each detail Ren managed to recall, the excitement in his eyes growing more and more, and Takuto wondered if the child was even aware of how much he recalled. Yet whenever Takuto asked for the child of his father’s name he merely blinked at Takuto.

“I don’t remember my daddy’s name,” Young Ren shook his head, his disappointment reflecting Takuto’s, “I’m trying really hard, I am!”

“I know you are,” Takuto sighed, resting a hand upon his shoulder, giving the small child a reassuring smile. Yet, as defiant as his grown-up self, Young Ren shook his hand away.

“But, there’s one name I do remember.” Young Ren mumbled under his breath. Takuto’s eyes widened, a sudden drop of water dropped upon his head. Carefully reaching over the moist patch of his hair he looked at his fingers. Nothing. He looked up. Only the black that characterized their surroundings present. He turned to look back at the boy.

“What name is it?” Takuto asked, Young Ren squeezed his eyes shut.

“I... it’s someone close to dad,” he mumbled. More droplets of phantom liquid dripped upon him, “Someone... I.... don’t remember,” The child began to panic, “I... I can’t remember it anymore. I can’t, I’m-”

“There, there,” Takuto cooed, brushing away Ren’s tears, ignoring the storming of the invisible rain on his person that only increased in ferocity, “It’s okay. Just do like what we did with your dad, okay?”

“O-okay,” Young Ren said, trying hard to salvage a mask of bravery, looking at Takuto with red, blotched eyes “I mean... I don’t have a lot of memories of her...”

“Her..?” Takuto feared he knew who the young boy was referring to, the invisible storm now pouring magnitudes onto him, unrelenting, the liquid thumping hard against his frame, his hearing starting to be muffled by the roar of rushing water, “Ren, maybe we should-”

“She had big eyes-” Young Ren began to recite, Takuto grabbing tightly onto his shoulders, his pleas for the boy to stop falling on death ears.

“-and she was smart, and nice-” Young Ren continued, oblivious to the panicking Takuto that desperately pleaded with him to stop.

It smelled. Everything smelled rancid, like something rotten, something foul, something metallic. But it was as if Ren was painfully unaware of the speckles of red splattered on his face.

“-and, and she had red hair!”

Takuto recognised the expression the young boy suddenly snapped into, grey eyes once filled with ignorance now watered with fear and distress. The memories of the break-in, the blood, the red. The child stumbled back away from Takuto, both of them shocked that the ground seemed to ripple under them.

“Ren!” was all Takuto could utter until a shrill shriek spilled from Ren’s lips. More blood dripped down from the sky, the child turned and tripped against his feet and fell onto the ground. Takuto reached for Ren but stopped.

Rumi. Rumi was in the reflection, so many copies of her, eye wide and afraid, blood gushing from her red locks, Takuto speechless, the only sound coming from his lips were the terrified whimpers that bubbled up from his tight throat. He too soon stumbled onto his knees, his own distressed reflection mirrored back at him, Takuto’s traumatic expression staring back at him among the mosaic of Rumi’s last moments. He dared not to look at the scene above him.

“Subject one is asleep and well, Dr Maruki,”

“Was the actualisation successful?” his voice rang in his ears. Takuto blinked his watering eyes, adjusting his vision to the spotless white tiles that made up the room. The familiar, sterile smell of disinfectant stung his nostrils, Takuto barely making out the sweetness of forgotten flowers in bouquets that splashed colour among the featureless wall. He allowed himself time to collect himself; he looked at his hands, bloodless yet he swore he could still feel the liquid staining his hands.

“Yes, Dr Maruki,” the unfamiliar voice rang out. Takuto swallowed the bile that rose from his throat, allowing himself to collect his composure and strength before he stumbled onto his feet with great effort.

Suddenly he found himself in a chair, gazing at the two figures looking over a sleeping child. One was a faceless nurse, writing on a clipboard as she talked. The other was himself, “There seemed to be no complications with the procedure,” the nurse continued, the reflection of Takuto reaching down absent-mindedly to stroke the sleeping Ren’s hair, “He should be waking up at any moment,”

“Thank you,” the other Takuto smiled, “You may go now,”

The nurse nodded before dissipating into a thin cloud of smoke, the other Takuto sighing before turning to the sitting Takuto, looking at him soberly.

“It was...” Takuto croaked, the guilt of his past mistake tightening in his stomach, “I just wanted...”

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” the other Takuto said quietly, turning back to the sleeping form of Ren, white-gloved hands coiling around strands of black hair. Flashes of memories flickered from within Takuto’s vision. How his son’s face contorted in anguish at the recollection of memories, how desperate he was to forget, willing to battle his friends to preserve his own ignorance, the lingering gazes, hauntings of his own psychological pain that echoed from within his own eyes, “He’s such a strong child, even when staring at the face of danger he still puts on a brave face,”

“Yeah, he really-” he feels something wrapping tightly around Takuto’s wrists. He looked down; blackish-blue tendrils slid across his skin. Panic rises from his chest and tightens his throat; he struggles against the grip of the monster binding him.

“There’s one more thing I need to get rid of,” the other Takuto murmured, Takuto futilely thrashing against Azathoth’s hold. The cognitive double approached him; eyes unblinking under the thick frames of his glasses as he watched Takuto struggle against the cognitive Persona. A click of his fingers, and the tendrils encompassed all of Takuto’s body other than his face, “This is for my patient, for my son,”

“You’re making a mistake!” Takuto’s voice cracked, his appeals to his cognitive double fruitless as he saw him snap his fingers. He felt himself pulled down by the otherwise unseen demon, his feet slowly sinking into the floor, the cognitive Takuto watching him disappear with a blank face.

“This is for his own good,” the cognitive Takuto said absolutely, his expression unmoving while he watched Takuto sink into the ground, “He needs to forget, he needs to be unburdened by the memories of her death, and that includes removing you from his life,”

“But-”

“It’s the only way,” the cognition repeated to him, the scenery around him going monochrome, the doubles skin growing paler before everything started to fade into white “We both know it’s the right way,”

“We...” Takuto croaked through the tears that started to well in the corners of his eyes, trying desperately to blink them away, tearing his eyes from his cognitive double in shame, “I was... I was foolish to think that. All it did was cause Ren and I suffering...”

The cognition said nothing.

“I should have been there for him...” he choked, the tentacles that wrapped around him grew ever tighter, “But I was a coward. I-”

He turned his head to see nothing. Featureless white. His throat tightened. There was nothing; he was stuck, yet the tendrils continued to drag him down, deeper and deeper, his breaths quickened, he was panicking, fidgeting against his bonds. It was too much, he was growing increasingly fatigued, he needed to escape, he-

“Daddy?”

Ren’s confused voice rang out, and Takuto quickly lost consciousness, his vision turning black.

---

“-he the next patient?” a voice rang out from the fringes of his consciousness, so familiar to his ears. His eyelids were heavy. Takuto wanted to sleep.

“Yes, Dr Am-” another voice accompanied the stranger. His mouth was dry. He felt sick.

“-ki, Takuto,” the first voice chuckled, Takuto dragging himself from his uncomfortable slumber, wincing in pain at the bright light that assaulted his vision.

“Who... who are-?”

Takuto jolted awake in alarm. The voice... was Ren, the grey eyes of his son looking at him, tired and heavy. His hair was slicked back neatly, his outfit a white, spotless suit, his shirt collar propped neatly around his neck. “Where am I?”

“You’re in good hands, Mr Maruki,” Ren smiled at him. It unnerved Takuto; Ren’s eyes shimmering yet empty, the curl of his lips rehearsed and forced, his voice too calm for the situation they both found themselves in, “Don’t worry. Soon your troubles will all disappear,”

Ren’s words did nothing to soothe Takuto. He looked down to where he currently sat, a white throne under him. Takuto paled.

“Patient seems to be distressed due to the loss of his son,” Ren spoke, snapping his fingers to the same featureless nurse from before, who then handed him a clipboard, “unforeseen circumstances; it seemed that the little one had died during a failed robbery-”

Ren fiddled his hair in thought, tucking a stray strand  behind his ear before continuing, “Patient seems to be in great psychological pain. Advisory procedure includes amnesia brought upon by actual-”

“Ren, please don’t,” Takuto cried, shaking his head furiously, “Please stop this madness, you’re making a-”

“Nurse, please make sure our patient here is secure!” Ren ordered the cognition, it nodded its head before lunging towards Takuto, its limbs sprouting from its form before pinning Takuto on the throne.

“Please, Mr Maruki,” Ren begged the thrashing Takuto, “Just calm down. I don’t want to cause you any more distress, the redhead was already enough trouble to treat,”

“Ren wait plea-”

A snap of his fingers. The entire amphitheatre rumbled violently, a great figure rose from behind Ren’s determined form, its golden skin and green eyes glowing in the light. Takuto sat there petrified, his mouth hung agape, his body quaked in fear, eyes wide as his forehead perspired with sweat, his mouth dry, his heart thumped with sickening speed, only able to hear it thrash in his chest as he gazed up upon the Persona who stared back at him with its unmoving face.

“Adam Kadmon,” Ren uttered his name, “You know what to do,”

A click of his gloved fingers, and Takuto’s vision was once more engulfed into black. ---

His brown eyes flickered open once more. Takuto rested his head on the featureless floor. He was back to where he started, the weird ethereal voice that Joker- no- his son had sent him to face the trial he so desperately wanted Takuto to endure. He wanted to go home, he wanted this madness to stop; he rose from the blackness, seeing that he was now palming wood, the walls surrounded him painted black while fluorescent light hung above his head.

“Was this...” he mumbled, yet the clicking of familiar heels made him snap to attention, hastily scrambling up to his feet, the shadow of his son walking towards him with hands in his pockets, golden eyes transfixed intently, emerging from the shadows of the empty room, him using his will upon the Palace they were currently in to convey his dramatic aura with persistent intimidation.

“Did you have fun, father?” Joker seethed, tongue rolling with each syllable as if the words were bitter to the taste. He looked pleased with himself, claiming his victory over his father, looking down at him with scorn, yet Takuto could see the agony that brewed in him by the quiver of his bottom lip, “I sure did, watching you flounder like that,”

“Was all of that how you truly felt?” Takuto meekly asked, watching how Joker swaggered towards him, avoiding the rhetorical inquiry from the shadow, “Everything I put you through... did you suffer that much?”

Takuto didn’t like how the corners of Joker’s mouth tugged higher, how his smile grew wider, thinner, his golden irises quivering in delight, how the white in his engulfed everything. Joker said nothing, his strides widening, Takuto’s feet firmly planted onto the floor.

“I-”

“The things I had to endure,” Joker roared, his expression unmoving yet his voice quaked with rage ill-fitting of the mask he wore, “The fights between my adopted parents, the stares and whispers I’d get from my classmates, the anguish I had to endure once I remembered. I kept-”

Joker’s facade slightly cracked, lines on his face, as if it were porcelain.

“I had nightmares” he cried, voice breaking, yet he betrayed no tears, “Nightmares from that day, seeing things that I couldn’t explain, seeing her dead, the blood... I always woke up in a cold sweat, never remembering why I was crying, I-”

Joker inched his face closer to Takuto’s with each word, stretching himself further upward, standing on the soles of his boots. What he didn’t expect from his rant was the arms that wrapped around him, the shadow pulled from his taunt into a comforting embrace, Takuto’s hand snaked to comb the strands of his unruly hair. Joker’s expression transitioned one from hate into befuddlement, feeling something hot drip down onto his grand, black coat.

“I’m sorry,” Takuto choked, bringing him in closer, undeterred by the mask poking painfully in his neck, “I’m sorry,” he repeated, grasping his son’s hair, palming it with long, tender strokes, “I couldn’t bear to look at you, you didn’t move, didn’t speak, I wanted you to get better, I thought-”

Takuto swallowed the bile that rose from his throat. He felt Joker’s body in his arms slump slightly, his head resting on his shoulder, “I’m sorry,”

The shadow said nothing, merely allowing himself to be held, his body limp, small heaves escaped from his throat every so often.

“Please, let us help you, Ren-”

The shadow snapped to attention, a hand around the scruff of Takuto’s jacket collar, tearing him away from the embrace they were locked in. In his shock, Takuto tried to escape from the grasp of the invisible assailant, only able to by slipping from the article of clothing, stumbling forward and running back to the hunched shadow, Joker’s gloved hands hiding his face. Yet as he got closer something stopped his advance; he collided into something, hard, yelping in agony as he clutched his nose, blinking to see that there was nothing in between them.

“You don’t get it, do you?” the shadow laughed while Takuto pressed his hands at the unseen barrier between them, the sound hollow, no joy in his words, “None of you do,”

The sound of trickling water filled the room, red swirled below Joker’s boots, Takuto confused and scared at the sight before him. It was like... It was like... “I’m going to make everything better,” Joker continued, peaking through the gap of his splayed hand on his face, “Heaven is nothing but a lie; I’m going to make a place where desires can truly be realised,”

“Ren, you don’t have to do this! Please,” Takuto begged, the red liquid rising rapidly up towards Joker’s hunched body, the shadow glaring at Takuto’s fearful form, “You’re making a mistake, Ren, don’t make the same mistake I did,”

“Of course I won’t,” Joker smiled as he stood up straight, the waters still rising, his facade perfect yet again, the calm on his face appearing so sudden that it terrified Takuto how easily Joker was able to slip back into calm, “I know a way to make them obey, all of them,”

“Is it true? Are you using-” the water was now up to his waist, Joker unfazed by the liquid slowly drowning him.

“A trickster never reveals his tricks,” Joker laughed, licking his lips while he watched Takuto squirm, “Not like I’ll tell you... any of you. You’ll just make everything more complicated, you’ll ruin all my plans, and the worst thing is the realisation that none of you care,”

“You’re destroying yourself in the process,” Takuto begged, his hands pressing against the glass, “Your friends have told me everything, each day your mental state is decaying further, this place is collapsing in upon itself. You’re losing yourself, Ren-”

“DON’T CALL ME BY THAT NAME,” Joker screeched, banging two of his fists onto the invisible barrier between them, Takuto clumsily stumbling back with shock, “I am not Ren, I’m not him, I am better, HIS better!” the red was now at his neck, the room shaking with invisible fury, “I will never go back to being him, Maruki, and you should realise that by now,”

“Ren-”

But it was too late, the shadow fully submerged in the red liquid, seemingly gone. Panic engulfed Takuto, him now thumping against the glass with his hands rolled into fists, desperate to save his son from the other side, “Ren!” he called out to no avail, continuing to pound against the barrier before him.

A subtle crack, and then another, then another. Takuto heard the trickling of water before he saw it, red liquid now bursting through the dam separating him and his son, the cascade of water spilling out like dominoes, and it wasn’t long for the barrier to completely break, the red torrent sweeping everything in his path up in its tide, taking Takuto with it.

---

A low rumble came from behind the theatre door, the thieves emerging from another one of Joker’s trials pitted against them, it swung from its hinges with Takuto being thrown outside of the room. He landed with an ‘oomph’ onto the carpeted floor, the group running towards him in shock and worry, though they could barely see a visible scratch on him.

“Maruki-san!” Sumire was the first to rush to his aid, kneeling next to the dazed brunette, blue flames dissipating her mask while her hands glowing with the familiar green of Diarahan, “Are you okay, are you hurt, what happened?”

“I’ll, I’ll be fine,” Takuto assured her gently dismissing her, trying hard to amass the strength to stand up on his own two feet, “I just... I just need a moment,”

“You don’t look fine,” Haru pointed out softly, “Are you sure you don’t need to rest? You look like you’ve been through a lot,”

“If it’s anything like the trials we have to endure, I’m surprised he came out unscathed,” Yusuke mumbled out loud, “Though then again, Ren is his son...”

“I didn’t do anything too taxing, haha,” Takuto weakly laughed, giving the thieves an unconvincing, weak smile, “It was... it was...”

His smile faded, his facade melted, looking down at the faded carpet below him, “I... I didn’t realise fully the pain I put him through,” he said, almost whispering, “He was suffering all that time. It’s my fault-”

“It isn’t your fault though,” Ann said earning perplexed looks from the thieves and an unamused glare from Goro, “I- I mean, it’s not just you who’s at fault here, Dr. Maruki,” she clarified, “I think we each all have something to do with making Ren’s Palace appear. We’re at fault too,”

“Yeah, it’s not like you were doin’ it for bad purposes too,” Ryuji interjected, “I mean, you did what you thought was right, right?”

“All of you are too forgiving,” Goro muttered.

Without warning the Palace started to quake, everyone thrown off from their feet as the walls started to shake, the chandeliers suspended above their heads rattling amongst the thundering rumble that consumed the premises.

“W-Why is the Palace acting up now?!” Morgana squeaked before falling onto his back, the others struggling to keep their balance, “I thought-”

“Ren’s not looking too good!” Futaba squeaked, fiddling and adjusting her headset as she looked over the information displayed by her Persona, “His vitals are falling fast!”

But Takuto didn’t pay attention to the panicked chatter of the thieves, looking down at his hands, mortified how the dull colour of the red carpet below his hands faded even further into a rotten brown. Lights flickered around him from above. It was a nightmare, the cognitive patrons screaming. He felt something small and dust-like trickle against his back.

The quake went as sudden as it came, the roar fading into deathly silent once more. Takuto peaked out from under his huddled hands that shielded him from above, eyes darting from side to side in a panic.

“W-what happened?” he asked the thieves who were trying to regain their footing, though he already suspected the answer.

“Ren’s getting worse,” Makoto answered his rhetorical question, and Takuto’s face flushed with dread. She looked at him, her eyes sympathetic behind her mask, “You should get out of here, it isn’t safe for you,”

“You’re... you’re right,” he sighed defeated, aware that if he had accompanied further than necessary, he would be nothing but dead weight. He didn’t have a Persona, no way to support the rest of the group within or outside of battles, sure to get in their way. He hung his head in defeat, carefully picking himself up from the floor, “Just... just make sure you do everything you can to save him... alright? He’s... he’s all I have left,”

The thieves nodded in response, yet their expressions conveyed the apprehensive outcome of their endeavour.

---

Ren said nothing, merely watched his shadow wandering throughout the grand space of the dressing room. His path was directionless, absent-mindedly walking in loops, circling the furniture, his stare unfocused and distant.

“Why?” was all Ren could ask, baffled by his own shadow, “Why do you keep lashing out?”

“He deserved it,” Joker reasoned, continuing his purposeless pace, the other cognitions that normally served him purposely out of sight, “They all do, Ren, why don’t you see that?”

“They don’t, they don’t, Joker,” Ren said, and Joker laughed bitterly, “You’re hurting them. You’re hurting the people I- we-”

“Did WE deserve what happened to us!?” Joker snapped at Ren, turning to him, venom in his expression, “Did WE deserve to forget Mom? To get carted off to someone else just like property, to have to endure our adopted parents and their wrath to only be thrown by the wayside, to have our father, LIE to us, to be USED by him for his actualization? DID we!? DID WE?!”

“Joke-”

“HE ABANDONED US!” Joker shrieked; the walls of the Palace quaked around him. His golden eyes welled with tears, pulsating with anguish and bitterness, “HE USED US AS A- A- A SICK GUINEA PIG! I am SICK of being used as a- as a- a- an OBJECT! Like I’m NOTHING!”

“Joker-”

“Stop denying that you feel this way,” the shadow squeaked, his red fingers intertwined in his black, dishevelled locks, “Stop it! It’s hopeless, Ren, you know that deep inside you don’t want to understand, you don’t want to forgive. That bastard-” another sob escaped from his throat, Joker choking on his tears and disgust, a familiar swell of power coursing through his being. Another shaky sigh. He could feel Ren finally coming to his senses, his lips curling upwards from the corners of his mouth, yet he barely felt any joy as he continued, “He’ll soon pay. They’ll all soon pay, and I’ll make sure that they’ll regret what they did to us.”

---

“Are you sure there’s nothing you can’t help with?”

Takuto looked at Sumire, she and Goro the only ones escorting Takuto onto the edges of the Palace’s domain. A weak, tired smile he wore as he shook his head, “I’ll be nothing but dead weight, Yoshizawa, and it looks like you all have everything under control,”

“At least we agree on something,” Goro hissed, arms crossed as he leaned his weight on one of his legs, “No Metaverse Powers or any standout physical strength. All you’ll be to us is a liability. Deadweight. A sitting duck-”

“I wonder why, Senpai,” Sumire pondered, “I mean, he should have his Persona at least, right?”

“I-”

“Regardless, I hope that I was able to help in some way,” Takuto interjected, tearing Sumire and Goro from their pondering, “But please... please save Ren,”

“We’re doing everything we can, Maruki-san,” Sumire nodded, “And if there’s any way you can help we’ll tell you, right, Akechi-senpai?”

“Actually, there is a way in which Maruki can help,” Goro mused, as he looked at the bespectacled man, “There something I was wondering about Joker’s plans,”

“You have my attention,”

Goro turned to look at the theatre before them. A moment passed, before he gazed back into his brown eyes, “I want you to see if there’s anything suspicious going on in the outside world, any changes at all in the public cognition. If you do, contact Yoshizawa, and she’ll contact me, am I clear?”

“Why? Are you suggesting-”

“Just do it,” Goro snapped, and without another word he turned on his heel, making his way back to the Palace. With an apology and a quick bow, Sumire too left Takuto alone at the cusp of the ethereal realm.

He watched them leave, disappearing into the Palace in front of him. His eyes trailed upwards. Towards the top floor of the accursed building, to where Ren was held against his own will by his own distorted thoughts.

“Hold on a little longer, Ren,” he croaked under his breath, unwilling to leave as he blinked the tears away from his welling eyes, “Just hold on a little longer, please.”

[talk-to-someone-or-me]

TW// suicide

You want to kill yourself?

It’s 10:53 pm on a Sunday night. You’ve already said goodnight to your parents and siblings. They think you’re sound asleep. You sit at your desk twirling a pen in your hand. You stare at the blank piece of paper as tears refill your eyes for the fifth time tonight. You don’t want to do it without writing a goodbye letter. You want to make sure your family knows why you did it. The tears fall onto the paper and you can’t help the frustration as the tears begin to ruin the paper. You crumble it up and break down even harder. You realize you can’t write the letter, so you look in the mirror once more and watch as your final tear falls. Only a couple moments later your heart stops and the blood escapes your body to create a puddle on the floor. But nobody is going to care right?

It’s now 6:47 am Monday morning. Your mother waits downstairs in the kitchen to give you your lunch money. She’s already late for work but she doesn’t want you to stress about making lunch for yourself. She doesn’t know what’s taking so long. She yells your name a couple times, but there’s no response. She has no idea your cold dead body is lying in your bedroom. She thinks you slept in, so she runs up the stairs and knocks on your door. But still, there is no answer. She opens the door and screams, horrified. She runs to you and holds your body. The tears seem like a waterfall, everlasting. She sits there with you cradled in her arms for a good hour, before she has the strength to get up and call your father. Your father rushes home, and they cry together. They pick up your siblings from school and try to explain what has happened. Your older brother runs out of your room and into his. He slams the door. He thinks its all his fault. He’s always picked on you, calling you names and starting arguments just to push your buttons. He punches his walls and allows his tears to pour out of him. Your little sister doesn’t understand. She asks if it’s because she always tries to steal your stuff or because she never leaves you alone when your friends are over. It’s hard to explain something like this to a six year old. But she probably wouldn’t care right?

It’s now Wednesday and your mom finally goes to your school. She hasn’t left the house since you took your life, but she knew she had to go. She enters your classroom, only to see the teacher sitting  at her desk grading papers. It’s 12:19 pm so your classmates are sitting in lunch. Your teacher greets her and asks where you’ve been. Your mother bursts into tears and your teacher is astonished. She has no idea what’s wrong, but she tries to comfort your mother. Your mom begins to explain what had happened, and your teacher starts to cry too. She begins to have flashbacks of all the times she yelled at you for not paying enough attention and not doing your homework. She thinks its her fault for being too hard on you. Your classmates return and are confused. A couple students recognize your mom and want to say hi, but they sense that something is wrong. Your teacher calls the vice principal and principal in and your mom explains everything. Everyone in the classroom is now crying. Even the annoying boy that sat behind you and threw gum in your hair is crying, thinking its his fault. Even the popular girl that wouldn’t give you the time of day is crying, thinking its her fault. Even the nerd that wouldn’t let you copy his homework is crying, thinking its his fault. They’re probably all faking, because nobody actually cares, right?

A week has gone by and it’s time for your funeral. Nobody has ever seen one this large. Almost every kid in your school and their families are here. Actually almost anyone you’ve come into contact with has come. It’s like a pool of black as one looks over the people sitting in the chairs as your corpse lies in the casket. Everyone goes up to speak. And after every speech, everyone begins to cry even harder. Even the emotionless jock is in hysterics. The funeral lasts many hours; nobody wants to get up, to move on, to accept what has happened is real life. All of them are just too lazy to get up, because they obviously don’t care, right?

It’s now been a month since your death. None of your family members have been in your room. The door remains shut. Your mom goes up to your dad and whispers, “it’s time”. Your dad looks at her with his lifeless eyes, nods, and slowly rises from the kitchen table. They enter your room slowly.  Just stepping inside of it gives your mother the chills. Your father holds your mom as she begins to tear up. He’s trying to be strong, but he can’t, soon tears swell in his eyes too. They begin to pick up your clothes, dust your shelves, and make your bed. The stain on your carpet from your blood has been covered with a rug. Neither of them go near it. They clean in silence for the next hour. They don’t care that you’re gone; they just didn’t want a messy room, right?

They miss you. Your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Do you want to take that away from everyone? From yourself? Never get to smile again, or see the person that makes your heart skip a beat, never get to live? Don’t do that to yourself. You have so much to live for. If you haven’t already, do you really want to miss the opportunity to meet your true friends? Have your first kiss? Fall head over heels in love? Get your heart broken time and time again? Go to college? Get an A+ on that final that you studied for days on end for? Get married? Have your own children? What would you do if you walked into your 14 year old daughter’s room and saw her lying there with no heartbeat, surrounded by a pool of blood? It would be no big deal right? You’d shrug and clean up the blood as you hum you favourite song that’s been in your head for the past couple days. No. You’d cry and clutch her lifeless body in your arms and cry. Cry, and cry and cry. You’d think it was your fault and a million thoughts would go through your mind. Why would she do this? Is it my fault? Why didn’t she tell me that she was depressed? Why didn’t I stop her? How couldn’t I have known? But she was thinking the same thing you were as a child. You know, that nobody would care?

So think twice. Take a deep breath. You’re worth more than this. Nobody should have to think that taking their life is the best thing to do. Anything you’re going through is temporary; the feeling won't last forever. You’ll get through this. No matter how long it takes you need to know, you’ll get through this, and you don’t have to face it alone. There are so many people that you can talk to. Family, friends, neighbors, teachers, counsellors, hotlines, me, etc. I will be here for you, no matter what. I will try my absolute hardest to help you. So please; do not ever, EVER, write that letter, or even think about suicide. Life is full of ups and downs for a reason. It makes us stronger, shows us what we can get through. It builds and shapes us into the next generation of parents, grandparents even. You might not see the end of the tunnel yet, but I promise its there. You just keep walking towards it.

This isn’t meant to offend anyone. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but I suffer from depression, and I have attempted suicide.

This was an eye opener for myself.

[wallstoothin]

momma’s boy united (pt 1?)

I need to go soon but I wanted to post this as soon as I’m done, I’ll fix it up later. Ryuji was on his knees as the little girl continued to cry in front of him. He really didn’t mean for all of this to happen. It was an accident, he swears ! He was just jogging in the park when a little girl bump into him at full speed. The girl was fine at first after she fell into the ground with a small ‘oof’. She was staring at Ryuji in surprise and it was all fine until her gaze fell to the little stuffed hamster in her hands. 

‘It looked expensive too.’ Ryuji thought as he and the girl both stare at the large gash on its stomach it’s mouth as left wide open as if it was screaming silently before  its death. With the way the stuffings falls down to the floor and the girl’s mournful look it really looked like Ryuji commited accidental murder then and there. It was the first sniffle that dragged Ryuji out of his thoughts. He lightly touched the girl’s shoulder and gently coaxed her to look at him or at least have her look away from the corpse. 

“Mii-tan is dead!” The little girl screamed out. “Mii-tan is broken!” 

Geez, he feels really bad now. Where’s the kid’s mother? The girl was still crying from the top of her lungs, while people from young mothers to bored elders walked around the two each showing their distaste on the two for making a racket. 

Incidents like these have been happening more often lately. People ignoring others in need in order to satisfy their own happiness because of that Tokyo has been seeing a rise in crimes in the past two years. It’s like everyone has been hit by a magic spell that made them assholes are something (Ryuji was sure he saw that plot in a movie long ago). Back to the kid, she was still crying and Ryuji still has no idea of what to do. 

What would his friends do? How would they help the girl out? The best solution is to help the girl fix her stuffed animal right? But Ryuji has zero skills in sewing and he doesn’t want to bother his ma over his mistake especially since she’s been taking later shifts for the past few weeks.

“We should take Mii-tan to the hospital.” He blurted out. The girl looked up her eyes wide and hopeful. “The hospital?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s where we take sick and injured people yeah? There’s a special hospital just for uh- Mii-tan.”

It was something that Ann has mentioned during lunch a few weeks ago. When she was younger she used to bring a stuffed cat everywhere has one day lost it’s ears because of her constant tugging. Her caretaker at the time send her broken doll to a “doll hospital”. A few weeks later she received her fixed doll along with pictures of the doll’s “stay” at the hospital. His mom also mentioned something about it too. How there was a stuffed animal hospital inside the fabric store run by an old lady. It shouldn’t be far from his place. He picked up the kid and place her on his shoulder, adjusting his grip so he doesn’t accidentally drop her. 

Kids like these types of things, Right? He remembered wanting his father to do the same when he was younger. So here he was jogging with a little girl on his shoulder while making ‘wee-woo’ sounds. The girl was laughing now as the wind picked up and a light breeze blew in his hair.

Twenty minutes later and they arrived. It was an old fabric store surrounded by a 100 yen shop and a convenience store. It looked very out of place between two modern shops but who was he to say anything about it. The apartment he lives in was about thirty years old which is pretty old compare to all the other buildings in Tokyo. He carefully place the younger girl on the ground,the young girl- Meika was grabbing his ring finger with her little hands tightly as Ryuji slides the door open.

“Welcome, how may I help ‘ya.” 

What he expected to be an old and withered lady turns out to be a broad shoulder young man with slick black hair and sharp eyes staring at the two. Meika immediately hid between his legs leaving Ryuji to fend for himself.

“We uh- we heard this place is an uh- hospital for stuffed animals.”

The young man’s eyes soften at the sight of the girl. “Yeah bring the patient here.”

Meika gently pushed the back of Ryuji’s knees as the two approached the front desk and Mii-tan was lying on the cold counter. The man carefully lifted the doll up to assess the damage. He pointed at the chairs by the door. 

“Take a seat, this little guy won’t take long.” 

The two awkwardly shuffled to the chair and sat down. Ryuji spend his time looking around the store. Little dolls and knick-knacks litter the shelves. Picture frames of old newspaper clipping and print out of some news article. Most were about twenty year old. There are nothing recently. 

There were also sign up sheets of classes offering to teach how to make some knitted dolls, run by someone of the name Tatsumi Kanji. His eyes went back to the dolls on the shelves. His mother’s birthday is coming soon, with all the phantom thieves stuff going on and with his mother increasing shifts as of late they barely have time to sit and chat with each other. It would be nice to give her something that he put effort in-something to remember him by. He doesn’t have a lot of money to buy a ring or a necklace but maybe he can make her a good luck charm. He dug into his pocket and surprisingly found a pen, he clicked it open and drew a little lightning bolt on his wrist to see if it works-it does. He stood up and head over to the sign up sheet and write down his name and number. The class is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. From the other two names already written on the sheet Ryuji can tell that the class will be filled with girls and as exciting as it is to be stuck in a room with him and the teacher being the only guy. The idea of it also sounds a bit awkward. 

 Ryuji:

 Free tomorrow afterschool?

Akira:

Yeah

Ryuji

Cool wanna join this class with me

Akira:

What kind of class?

Ryuji send a picture of the poster.

Akira:

Sure

Ryuji knows that his friend likes these sort of things, no matter how much he tries to deny it, the growing collection of gatcha and stuffed dolls in the attic speaks for themselves. He made sure to put Akira's name and number on the poster as well. 

Mii-tan came back healthy. It had white cloth around it’s head and was wearing a hospital gown and it even had a little band around it’s wrist. It was like the doll really went to a hospital. Meika was happy as she carefully carried the doll trying her hardest to not ruin the “bandages”. 

The girl then carefully looked between the man and Ryuji. “Thank you very much for helping Mii-tan.” She said. “It’s almost dinner time, I have to go home now.” 

The man grin and gently pat the girl’s head. “Hurry on home then. Make sure ‘ta look both way when crossing.” 

The two men happily waved goodbye at the girl as she left the shop, once she was gone Ryuji took out his wallet. “Thanks for everything man, how much do I owe ya?”

“A thousand.”

A thousand? It was much cheaper than he thought. He decided he should introduce himself since he’s coming back the next day. “I’m Sakamoto Ryuji, thanks for helping us out.”

“Tatsumi Kanji, I’m helping out my ma’s friend who owns this place. “

Tatsumi Kanji, that’s the name of the guy doing the class tomorrow isn’t it? He voiced his question to the other man.

Kanji nodded. “Yeah, you got a problem with that or something?”

He shook his head. “Nah, I’m just askin’ since my friend and I are going to join tomorrow. My mom’s birthday is next week and I wanted to make her a present.”

“Is that so?”

Before Ryuji could say anything else the man roughly placed his hand on his shoulder. “It’s getting late, you should head home. I’ll see you later, you better not be late.”

As if Akira would let him be late in the first place. “Gotcha.” 

And as Ryuji walked back towards his house he can’t help but to feel the captain somewhere in his head buzzing the same way he would feel whenever he’s around his friends. ‘It’s probably nothing,’ he told himself as he continue on his way back.

Is this the start of a new friendship? I just wanted the two blond momma boys to play nice. Also the image of a little kid on ryuji’s shoulder as he shouts ‘wee-woo’ won’t leave my head. If I do decide to make a part two it would be the class. 

[dirkcresswellx]

( TRANSMALE (CLOSETED) , HE/HIM ) DIRK CRESSWELL is a HUFFLEPUFF whose favorite subject is CHARMS, maybe because they are INDUSTRIOUS but also EVASIVE. They might be so popular because they look like ELLIOT FLETCHER, can you believe they are a SIXTH YEAR? rumors say they support DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY. where do they go from here?

anyway this bio is ... a lot. sorry. 

BASICS  —

Full Name: Dirk Anthony Cresswell

Age: Seventeen

Birthday: June 29; Cancer

Blood Status: Muggleborn

PERSONALITY  —

(+) Positive Traits: Helpful, cooperative, industrious, nurturing

(-) Negative Traits: Evasive, docile, mistrustful, scatterbrained

LIFE AT HOGWARTS  —

House: Hufflepuff

Year: Sixth

Wand:  Alder wood, 9 inches even, with a unicorn tail hair, very flexible. 

Best Class: Charms

Worse class: Potions

Pets: A Ragamuffin cat named Pixel

Boggart: The corpse of his foster father

Patronus: Basset hound

Extracurriculars: Hufflepuff Quidditch team (chaser), Hufflepuff prefect (sixth year), charms club, herbology club, music club

BIOGRAPHY —

trigger warning: child neglect, child abuse, transphobia, death

From a young age, Olivia Cresswell’s life had been in a state of flux. Money had been tight for Cresswells and the shared knowledge of children her parents possessed reached a zero sum. It wasn’t like they didn’t try, they just didn’t have the necessary skills to take care of an infant. She would go hours sitting in a dirty nappy because neither one of them had noticed she needed to be changed and it was only after wailing for a solid ten minutes that they would figure out she was hungry. It became easier when she learned how to talk but at the same time, it didn’t. An infant had to be taken care of all the time but a toddler could tell you what they needed. They could ask for food or water and it should have made things easier on the Cresswells. But a toddler could also run around and knock stuff over and accidentally burn themselves on the iron that her mother had left on when she had to chase after Olivia. Mrs. Cresswell had been stressed all the time, being left alone with a toddler while her husband was at work, trying to make money to take care of the kid they didn’t understand. Children don’t come with an instruction manual, they barely cooperate when you want them to and when you need them to, all hope was lost. A few drinks in, trying to ease her frayed nerves and Mrs. Cresswell began screaming. Worse, she began shouting and getting loud and teaching her four year old all sorts of new words. She loved Olivia dearly but that didn’t stop her hand from flying out and striking her child when she started bawling and asking when daddy would be home. It was a close little neighborhood, with families packed into flats and from next door, the sound was unmistakable. When Mr. Cresswell returned that night, Olivia had already been removed from the home and into a family that would take better care of her. 

In the foster home, with a family called the Houstons, Olivia seemed a little off. She recoiled from the slightest touch and refused to ask for anything. They had a child of their own, named Jacob, that she took to, because he was a kid just like her and Olivia emulated him. She played games and roughed around in the grass and accidentally broke a lamp or two after a few years of living there. They were a cute little family, almost picturesque, until Jacob went into secondary school and left Olivia alone. He made new friends that weren’t her and left her alone. Resentful, thinking it was because she wasn’t grown up enough, she found a group of older boys who just saw a kid that they could mess with, use to steal things and then if it failed, blame it on the kid. Simply put, it failed. Olivia had been caught by a corner store owner who had grown tired of the boys stealing from her store and now they were recruiting young kids to go and help them. No charges were pressed and the most Olivia had to deal with was a cop talking to her. He had introduced himself as Derek, though his badge said McAfee and asked why such a sweet young lady would want to hang out with a group of troublemakers. She had protested, shaking her head. She wasn’t a lady, she didn’t want to be a lady, and at least they cared about her! Unlike Jake. Derek had taken that in stride, not questioning the child and simply talking to him. That’s it. Just talking. Until Mr. Houston came to pick him up. 

He had been removed from the Houston’s a week later, bouncing around from home to home because they couldn’t find one that was a good fit. In that time, he’d bounced from name to name as well, trying to find something that eased the pressure in his chest and made him feel good and strong and masculine. He’d briefly landed on Jacob but that idea was tossed away as quickly as it came to him and went to Jesse to Kai to Parker. He was going by Jack when the cop, Derek, from a year ago had finally put in a request to foster him. In the McAfee house, Jack thrived. His grades were up, he was making friends with people his own age. The McAfees didn’t have any issues with Jack being a boy, introduced him to the word trans-gender, and it was the first time Jack really smiled in a very, very long time. The kind of smile that you just know meant everything clicked in his head, with the overwhelming relief of “There are others like me. I’m not broken.” The McAfees had broken down seeing that smile on their boy’s face and the family was perfect. Just perfect.

For less than a year. Less than twelve months later, Derek had been taken from his family and they never got justice for the man they lost. When he found out that Derek wasn’t coming home, his magic manifested in a most extreme way. All of the glass in the house had broken, shattered on the floor. It was a physical display of how broken he felt hearing that. Mrs. McAfee fell into a depression too deep to continue caring for Jack and he was moved once again. But this time, it was with a new outlook. Grieving was one thing and he was sure to do that in his own time but he wanted to make Derek proud. Jack was sure he was watching, upset the family had been torn apart but there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Derek was looking out for him. The first step was to officially, finally, settle on a name. Forever. Only eleven years old and he knew that he wanted something that would keep his favorite parent close to him. He chose Dirk, like his dad’s name, but not quite the same. His teachers’ rosters still said Olivia and some of the foster families called him Olivia but he was Dirk. And despite how mad he got, how crushing it was to have people ignore what you told them and say you’re a girl, he kept his cool. Reminded of how Derek was with him, he tried to be that way with everyone else. He had been shown kindness in the McAfee house and he would in turn, pass it on. Despite how awful it was to lose the first real family he’d had. Despite how bad he felt because he couldn’t have stopped him. His hardships were his and his alone to carry. He refused to put that weight on anyone else. 

It was shortly after his eleventh birthday, now living with a family called the Tylers who accepted him for who he was, called him Dirk and everything, when he received a letter. Except that letter was brought to him by a wizard named Dippet. He explained that Dirk had magic in him, that he was a wizard and he would attend the finest wizarding school of all, Hogwarts. Dirk didn’t have money, or anyone that would understand. He wouldn’t be able to go and that terrified him. The first time in his life he truly felt special and he would have to pass up on the opportunity because there wasn’t another option. Or so he thought. The school would take care of his robes and his books and all of his equipment in return for good grades and the promise that he’d keep them up. They’d even allowed him to bring a pet with him. He was moved once more, to a new home, with a squib, which was a word he didn’t understand until it was explained to him. They would understand him and protect him. It wasn’t quite a home and he didn’t always stay there during the nights, especially as he grew older, but it was close enough and the best he was getting.

Before Dippet had left, leaving him with the new family, Dirk had asked how they had known he was magic. The headmaster explained about the enchanted quill that wrote down students’ names when they were born. When he asked what name had been written down for him, Dippet had just replied with, “Dirk,” before apparating away. Relief had washed over him and Dirk felt vindicated, felt good and right, that he had been meant to follow this path. Life may have taken him on a strange, lonely path with a lot of twists and turns, but it was always leading right here. He was meant to be here. 

If he had a million years, Dirk wouldn’t be able to repay all that he had been given in his life, because he wasn’t given charity but acceptance and kindness and a second chance when he didn’t even realize he needed one. Instead, he tries to pay it forward, to put good things out into the world and be a good person and hope that maybe, he can be the type of person he needed for someone else one day. He just wants to help, especially now that he can’t seem to shake the feeling that they’re not as safe as the news says they are. A girl a few years above him, Sybill something, said that she felt the same way, but no one ever believed her. She said she was a Seer and maybe Dirk was too. But Dirk isn’t so sure about that. Dirk is only sure about one thing: he wants to help people anyway he can. 

[headoverjojo]

Aaaannnd here I am again 👀 It’s time for the journey into madness? ayyy, it is :3 so, we all know what happened to Kira when he first saw the Mona Lisa, but... how, why... when? He decided to be a killer? Aaaand ad always ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ

Esteeeeeeee c⌒っ╹v╹ )っ aaaaaaaa this requeeeestttt, I loved it ** Ok!! So, i knooow that SURELY there are incongruences with the canon, but! That’s just a fic. And how I see Kira as character! This said, I hope you’ll like it :3

How Yoshikage Kira understood he would have been a killer

(Under the cut for length, violence, blood and murder)

The first time Yoshikage Kira saw the Mona Lisa in an art book, he had what could be called an epiphany. It was like a sort of divine illumination; he had often heard about saints who declared, in their memoires, to have been visited by God, but, until that fatidic moment, he hadn’t believed it. Now it was all different. All his thoughts were focused on the Mona Lisa, on a detail of the masterpiece: Lisa’s hands. They were so… delicate, so fragile, so perfect. He had never seen hands like those. Leonardo managed to immortalise the perfection in form of hands. Kira was mesmerized by them, he couldn’t think about anything else. If God existed and He was perfection, then, in the Mona Lisa’s hands, there was also God. Kira firmly believed it and every time he opened the book, which he had bought, to study the painting, he couldn’t help but to feel God while he stared at Lisa’s hands.

He was so absorbed in this new contemplation that everything else hadn’t any relevance. School, friends, his parents… nothing. What mattered were Lisa’s hands. He dreamed about them, he dreamed to find around something who could reply that perfection, something that could make him feel the same way as he was feeling while he was watching them, but nothing seemed to live up to them. It was so frustrating that, often, Kira snapped at his parents and even at his professors, who, one day, decided to call his father to talk about Yoshikage’s recent behaviour.

It was concerning. In thirteen years, Yoshikage never disappointed anyone. He was the perfect child: meek, obedient, diligent, always ready to satisfy his parents or the professors’ expectations. His grades never dropped but neither rose to the top; he was amiable, but not the most funny or friendly in his class. He was… average. He was content to live a normal, average and quiet life, not even trying to point to the top; he wasn’t interested to that. He wanted, as his father, to work as employee in the local company, go and come back home at precise hours, maybe marry to an average, meek and quiet woman and live a quiet and average life. He wasn’t a person who loved excitement or unforseen events.

So, when he came home, that day, he didn’t expect his book not to be anymore in his room. A fear deeper than anything else he had ever felt sank in his stomach. It couldn’t be… had he lost it? How?! He never carried it out of his room! Maybe… maybe he had placed it somewhere and he didn’t remember when? He started to search for the book, firstly calmly, sure to find it, then more and more frantically, in a more and more hysteric frenzy. It wasn’t here… he had turned all his room inside out, but the book wasn’t here. A blinding rage took over him, as he was starting to understand. That day, he had seen his father near his school… it was strange, but he hadn’t paid attention to it. Maybe his mother had sent him to buy something at the supermarket, he thought. Now he understood that his father was around his school because he had been called called by his professors. Those brutes… they didn’t understand. They didn’t understand God’s message through Lisa’s hands. They couldn’t see the perfection, their sight was too poor to catch it. Kira pitied them; what a sad life, living without recognizing the perfect beauty when you had it in front of you.

For a moment, he imagined to storm into his parents’ room and take the book back. He even indulged into some fantasies that involved knives, his parents… he imagine to sink his favourite knife, the one he used to chop the vegetables when he was cooking with his mother, in their bodies, again, and again, and again, until the whole room would have been completely soaked in their blood… but not their hands. They had nice hands; not perfect as Lisa, but it was a point of start. Yes… yes, it was so, Kira mulled, sitting on the floor of his now messy room. That was a sort of proof. He had been showed the perfect beauty, but it was something he could just admire in a book, not something he could touch, he could have. Now that he had tasted the heavenly perfection, he couldn’t live without it. He wanted… he wanted it. He wanted it just for himself. He wanted to bask in that warmth and not to be without it ever again. It had been revealed to him in form of hands; and in form of hands he should have looked for it.

Hands… he had to search for hand. Not every kind of hands, of course; just the ones that could at least try to live up to Lisa’s hands, the perfect model he had burned in his mind and soul. The need to have back his only source of comfort, the only thing that was giving a sense and a deeper meaning to his average life was becoming increasingly urgent. He had… he had to do it.

He needed to take someone’s hands.

In the period that followed the book theft, Kira did his best to at least seem the boy he was before, even if no one could go back from such an epiphany. He started to study again with diligence, he acted calmer and meeker, as before, not to raise any suspicion. He had already slipped once; he didn’t want it to happen again. His grades went back to normality, his professors and parents relaxed, seeing that he was the old, good Yoshikage, the obedient and meek boy they liked so much. It seemed that everything was back as it was before…

Just that it wasn’t.

Kira was hunting. He was looking around, discreetly studying others’ hands, girls’ hands. He couldn’t get a boy’s hands, as they weren’t perfect hands. Just women’s hands could aspire to near perfection; and, after many researches, he finally found the hands he wanted.

Miss Yoshino was a woman on her forties, with long black hair tied in a serious bun and a sharp voice. She taught English and she was one of the most tough teachers of the whole school. What was interesting about her, however, were her hands. Hers were beautiful hands, well proportioned, without prominent veins or marks. They were of the right paleness and her nails were well kept, short and neat. Those were hands of someone who had never had to do some heavy manual work; they seemed soft and nice and Kira was dying inside to have them finally for him, just for him…

He had prepared himself thoroughly for that day. He knew that Miss Yoshino, for students who needed it or who asked for it, gave supplementary lessons in English and Kira asked her if he could join one of her lessons, to “prepare better for exams”, he said. He earned an approval nod from the teacher and her address.

He had, however, to wait few months before fate allowed him the privilege to be alone with her. Kira’s heart almost jumped out his chest, when he saw it. Alone… he was alone with her. It was the perfect time.

And so he acted, moved by a deep and urgent need that had ate him from inside for months. He meekly offered to prepare tea, while Miss Yoshino prepared the lesson for the day; the woman smiled at him, totally ignorant of what was about to happen.

Kira put the kettle on the stove, as always. He took the tea from the cabinet, black tea with cinnamon and ginger, Miss Yoshino’s favourite. Lastly, he took the teapot and just one mug, paying attention, then, to clean everything up. Then, instead of a little spoon, he took a sharp kitchen knife and turned around, approaching the woman who was giving him her back, as she was busy writing on the whiteboard.

It hadn’t been like he had imagined. He had imagined screams, a mess of blood and organs, agonizing expressions, something gruesome, something violent and slow… it hadn’t been like this. He sank in his teacher’s back, once, twice, fifteen times in total, even when she was on the ground, even when she was clearly dead. He hadn’t felt anything. It had been something… almost mechanic. All the anxiety and the stress he had felt before just were vanished them moment he had sunk the knife into his teacher’s body and then he was focused just on the task to kill her in the fastest possible way. Killing her was just a way to get what he really wanted: her hand. Now that he was at his point, he could feel excitement bubbling in his chest and rising to his face, where a grin was displaying on his lips. Finally… finally he could have near the object which embodied perfection.

He kneeled near to the corpse, taking her right hand, with gentleness and deference, as he was holding a relic. Then, just like when he helped his mother by chopping the vegetables, he chopped her hands off her body, a neat and precise cut, as he liked it. He took with him the knife and the hand, hiding them in plastic bags he had carried from home, he put everything in his backpack and went out, like nothing had happened.

No one ever suspected of him. Kira was present when the tragic death of Miss Yoshino was announced to the whole school and he was present even at Miss Yoshino’s funeral. No one even noticed him. How could they? He was an average boy; nothing of him was particular or weird. He was a figure on the background.

And Kira understood that being on the background was the safest way not to be chased. He could do everything he wanted; no one would have ever suspected of the meek, diligent and obedient Yoshikage Kira.

His being average would have been his safeness, his final protection. From that position, he could go on in his research of perfection through hands.

Because he knew that just Miss Yoshino’s hand wouldn’t have been enough, oh no. A human hand was made of flesh, and flesh, after a while, rots; he had to regularly find a new hand to replace the rotten one, a hand better than the previous one…

Yoshikage Kira knew that his life, from that moment on, would have been a life of research. Research of beauty, research of perfection, of that godly bliss he had felt the first time he had seen the Mona Lisa’s hands. He wanted to replicate that moment, to feel and live it again and again, he needed it, it was like a drug, he couldn’t give it up, and, meanwhile, he wanted to live the rest of his life in the quietest possible way.

No matter how many existences he had to rip apart, he would have found that perfection again and again. This was his life, now.

And he liked it.

[mind-writing0]

Chapter 22

It was when Dan felt a tear on his cheek that he stopped. It wasn't his own.

"It's j-just...me and R-Roman had a fight a-and we had a fight and...and you cheated on me! It's just all a b-big mess..." Virgil was shaking, and he wrapped his arms around Dan's waist as he buried his head in the others chest.

"Shh, it's okay, Verge—Wait, did you say I cheated on you?" Dan asked, resting his head on top of Virgil's. "Now, I've made some stupid decisions, but why on earth would I do that?"

"Don't act like I didn't see you with that guy at the airport. Just because we'd already broken up doesn't mean you can just...go make out with the first person you see."

"The guy at the air—Emilie? Virgil," Dan laughed, and Virgil let go to glare at him. "He fell over. I mean, this is Emilie. He's super clumsy. I helped him up, then he asked me to wrap my arm around him because his ex was nearby. I'm serious, Virgil. I would never cheat on you. You are the one true love of my life, and our breakup was the worst mistake of my life. Can you ever forgive me?"

Virgil's eyes were watering again, but he ignored it to look into Dan's genuinely apologetic and gentle eyes. He wrapped his arms around Dan's neck and kissed him again before breaking apart.

"You should go," Virgil breathed, his cheeks pink. "I'll try to see you soon."

Dan opened the door, then turned towards Virgil and gave him a crooked grin. "Sounds good, Sir Virgil."

——

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" Dan cursed, running down the hall. All around him were the sounds of alarms. On the floor below, gunshots rang out.

He threw open Virgil's door to see him peacefully sleeping. "Virgil, love, wake up. Quick!"

Virgil sat up groggily and rubbed his eyes. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and Dan tried not to stare. The last time he'd seen Virgil like that...well, he'd nearly broken an important law on virginity. "What's going on?" Virgil asked.

"Rebels, Ve! Hurry up! Where are your damn shoes?" Dan whisper-shouted. He eventually found some slip-on house shoes and Virgil put them on, then Dan grabbed his robe and had him put it on.

"We have to get you to the safe room," Dan said, going towards the door. Then he stopped, and turned towards Virgil. He pulled him close and kissed him, because this might be the last time they kiss. Just like every night in the treehouse, any night could be their last night.

Dan then pulled Virgil along and towards a safe room at the end of the hall. He briefly saw his maids hurrying the other way.

"Wait!" He let go of Dan's hand and ran after his maids. "Hey, the safe room's this way!"

Romelle seemed deadly afraid, while Katie kept an arm around her. Allura held her hand and was trying to pull her in the opposite direction. "We have another safe room, one for the maids downstairs."

"You'll die if you go downstairs," Virgil said, trying to keep his voice from trembling. Gunshots continued raining below, shaking the very floor they stood on. "Come with me, but we gotta hurry up!"

In a split-second decision, Romelle clung to Virgil's arm and started running. "They'll kick us out, we're wasting time, we're going to die..." she chanted hoarsely. "Please, please, please."

"Come on, guys!" Katie picked up the many skirts to her uniform and dashed towards the steadily closing secret door, Allura close on her heels. Virgil and Romelle tried running as fast as they could while holding onto each other, though they surely wouldn't make it—

With not a millisecond to waste, the door shut behind. And just in time, too. The bullets sounded closer now.

"Thank you for escorting Sir Virgil," a guard near the entrance said, his tone stern yet emotionless. "You may return to the servant's quarters now."

"They're with me," Virgil insisted quietly.

"No, I'm sorry, we don't have the room. They'll have to go downstairs." The guard replied.

"Alright," Virgil nodded, then he smiled oddly and continued in a sweet tone that was unusual for him. "Do you have a pen and paper? Just so I can write down who's fault it was when they found my shot down corpse. I am not going to allow you to assign my maids to a death sentence for not being as important as royalty."

"Is everything alright?" A new voice, Prince Roman's, asked as he pushed through Selected to get to them.

Romelle muffled a sob, though her tears were evident as she shook. "P-please, d-don't make us l-leave, Your H-Highness. I b-beg for your mercy."

Roman looked surprised anyone would even think such a thing of him. "Of course you can stay! I'm not a monster, and we have plenty of room. Come on, let's get you cleaned up." Roman began leading her away, his hand comfortingly on her back, towards some stocked shelves. "Would you like some water?..."

Virgil and his remaining two maids found cots to sit at as they tried to calm their ever-screaming bouts of adrenaline.

"Hey, Sir Virgil?" Katie asked out quietly. "That was really nice, what you did for us. Our lives are in your debt."

"It was the least I could do..." Virgil replied shyly. He wasn't sure why everyone around them in the safe room was making such a big deal out of it. Given the situation, shouldn't they let anyone in? Was that asshole guard really going to turn away helpless maids because they were servants just like him? Virgil didn't even want to think about it.

Katie smiled and looked down at her nails, which were painted a now chipping light green. Virgil thought briefly—amidst all the chaos—that it would be cool to paint his nails purple to match his hair. "My, um..." she started, "my friends call me Pidge. I know we aren't really friends, because I'm just your servant, but—"

"We're not friends?" Virgil asked, smiling a little, though it soon went back to a frown upon hearing more gunshots. "Pidge, I could have sworn we were. Friends do all like life-risking cheesy stuff for each other, right?"

Pidge giggled, "Right."

"And you're not just my servant..." Virgil had lost his train of thought. He was looking over at Roman, who was now sitting on his own cot, an arm wrapped around Patton while he leaned in close. They shared gentle whispers and soft touches, and the sweetness of the gesture making Virgil nauseous. Then again, he was a hypocrite.

Virgil laid down on his cot, thinking about where Dan was and what he was doing. Had saving his maids costed him Dan's life?

God, this was horrible...

Eventually, though he felt sick and as if all the eyes in the room were on him, he fell into a half-sleep.

He woke up by light streaming into the room. There was a guard standing at the door, seeming out of breath and upset. It wasn't Dan.

"There you all are, safe and sound." He breathed. "Are you all accounted for? Is anyone missing?"

Roman scanned the room, briefly making eye contact with Virgil. "We're all accounted for." He announced quietly, his voice still filled authority.

"Right," the guard replied, "well, we tried to clean as best as possible. Apologies, Your Highness."

"That's alright," Prince Roman said, heading out of the safe room, others following behind.

Virgil didn't find too much of a mess when he got to his room, so he decided to stay there. His maids excused themselves to work on another suit. They still felt bad for their lack of work and harboring in the royal safe room, though it was ridiculous to feel that way. The black haired boy was still exhausted, so he laid face-down into his pillows in hope of suffocation.

He was woken up from another half-sleep by a knock on the door. Thinking it was Roman, Virgil buried his face into the pillows even further. He was not in the mood for an apology and a of-course-everything-is-okay-Prince-Charming kind of conversation at the moment.

"Virgil, would you like to use the phone?" It was Miss Emily, the guide and lessons teacher.

"Come in," Virgil called out, trying not to sound muffled. Miss Emily open the door and came in, sitting on Virgil's bed. Her every move was purposeful, yet awkward and robotic. She held out the phone. "You can call your family, if you'd like."

Virgil half heartedly took the phone and dialed his home number without thinking. He was disassociating. That was the last resort way to deal with the rebels, Roman and Dan, and everything else.

"Hello?" A girl's voice, Valerie's, answered the phone after a few rings. "If this is about Virgil Singer, I'll talk to him as soon as possible."

"This is about Virgil Singer." Virgil mumbled into the phone with a grin, lighting up immediately at the sound of his sister's voice.

"Virgil!" She shouted on the other side of the line. "Oh my gosh, that's so cool you found a phone! How are you?"

"I'm fine," Virgil said, "we had a pretty rough rebel attack, but it's all fine."

"Oh, wow!" She said, still sounding an almost wrong kind of astonished. "I hope you're gonna be okay in the future. Are you having fun?"

"Yeah, everything's great..." Virgil said, trying to sound convincing. If he sounded uneasy, Valerie didn't comment on it.

"Well, that's good." Valerie replied, "We've been having a lot of people ask about you, what should I tell them?"

"Tell them," Virgil looked up at Miss Emily, who was motioning for him to hurry up. "Tell them I said to stop asking, because it's not my fault that Prince Roman is gay for me, okay?"

Miss Emily looked appalled, yet hiding secret amusement. Valerie laughed on the other line, a sound Virgil had missed. "Okay. Oh, and Virgil?"

"Yes?"

"I love you, and I miss you." Valerie said, and Virgil could almost hear her smile.

"I love and miss you too, Vally." Virgil tried to ignore his eyes watering. Of all the chaos going on in his life, his sister was one stable thing to come back to. "Okay, I gotta go, bye."

"Bye," she hung up, and Virgil handed the phone back to Miss Emily. "Thanks," he mumbled, and she smiled politely in response. The call seemed to brighten his day. She nodded before leaving.

Virgil laid still on his bed, looking out at the view the balcony would provide from here. He could see expansive green forests and he almost wanted to open the door to smell the gardens. Every day in Angeles seemed bright and sunny; Virgil had never seen a drop of rain here. He got up and stretched before lazily sitting at the piano bench. He began to play, finding yet another thing to get lost in.

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@its-the-cat-queen@notalwaysthevillian@the-doctor-demigod-wizard @avocados26@2-many-fandoms-to-chose-from@randomsandersides @misera-libera @kawaii-harmony@seeyoube@dabby-the-disappointment@kaioanxiety@toxicity-levels-critical@sandersfandersblog@tryingtoohard-noclue@amazable01 @hazelswann@ray-iplier@thats-so-crash@thatsthat24 @shootingace@marshmallow-the-panda@sortablue@random-artsy-space-dude@galaxy-lilies-main @magicaldestinayspaceunicorn@theunoriginaldaisy@lydixa-petal@sombraplayslazertag@ray-is-bored@pumpkinminette@ray-is-bored @shesawkward @your-anxious-nightmare

[blackmaylovesfries]

“I can’t be as nice as them, okay?!” - Meeting him

Asked: No

Words: 1783

Sinopse: Seventeen Hybrid AU - Lee Jihoon is a Iberian Lynx hybrid that hates when someone touches him. Until a noisy girl pet him against his will.

Notices: guns, the word “asses” and mention to violence (not consummated) and to torture (not explicit) and not so good English. P.S.: I think this is the most violent and dark one I did until now… What do you think??

Masterpost

Previous / Next

Jihoon’s life was never an easy one. Since his birth, he was kept away from his parents and raised to be the perfect pet. Every single day of his life was used to prepare him to this day, the day when his “teachers” would sell him to a rich owner. Being the exotic hybrid he was, Jihoon knew that the best he could hope for that day was to some bored rich to win him on the auction.

During the day, everyone was anxious. They knew that Jihoon knew how to behave but if his temper happened to show up, his price could go down significantly. They couldn’t treat him with the whip because his body needed to be perfect to the auction but they made sure that he understood that if he came back to them after, he would be taught a lesson. Not that they needed to remind him.

When the night came, Jihoon was taken to a prep room, behind the stage where the hybrids would be shown. The men in there took his clothes and only leave him with a leather leash, it didn’t bother him, he was told all his life that probably, depends of the owner that buy him, he would spent all the rest of his existence nude. As his time to go up the stage started to come closer and closer, the discomfort began to kick in.

“That group over there are getting all the hybrids.” One of the organizers of the auctions said. “You! So check their names. I’m sure that they have something fishy there…”

Jihoon looked to the group of people that he was talking about and saw 7 guys and a girl. They indeed looked suspicious, since the boys seemed too tense and the girl appeared to be enjoying herself with her nails. Although the fancy clothes, none of them looked like they belonged to that place, saving one or another, the group in general seemed to be quite dislocated.

“Okay, anyway, we can’t wait until we have the info, so, your time to shine, little Lynx.” His voice and his hand on Jihoon’s shoulders almost made the hybrid hiss but he controlled himself.

---

Okay, maybe the strike team weren’t the best to this mission. But what could you do if the others were or busy or afraid? Exactly, nothing, so you brought your offensive team to a hybrid auction. Until almost the end of the ‘fair’, you and the team seemed to do quite okay, purchasing all the hybrids that appeared.

You knew that they were suspicious of the group but they couldn’t do anything until the auction ends and by then all of you would have free pass to use your weapons.

“You know that they will try to kill us when they notice that we don’t have the money, right?” BamBam was trying to whisper to you.

“And you know that we are prepared for it, right?” You returned.

“Yeah, just making sure that no one will come for our asses if some of this guys dies.” He could be young but, after all he had been through, the thought of killing someone who did a bad thing wasn’t hunting him anymore. You caressed his arm and turned your attention back to the stage.

---

Jihoon was ready for all the gasps and exclamations when he went up the stage. He was ready to all the fight and dispute for his ownership. He was also ready for the spoiled girl that won him. What he was not ready for was what happened after the auction.

He was getting in his new owner’s car when suddenly the light on the hangar was cut out. The girl that bought him hushed him inside the car and paid no mind to the building behind her. Then they heard. Fire guns. Big ones, by the sounds they were making. The girl finally started to become nervous but before she could yell some orders to her driver a hand covered her mouth.

“Now, now, we don’t want any problem, right, Miss Park?” It was a female voice. From what Jihoon could notice, a human female was holding the girl with a small revolver on her back, he also didn’t miss the huge gun accommodated on the female’s back.

“Here’s what will happen: I’ll take your hybrid with me and you will be the good daddy’s girl you are and will go back home saying that you couldn’t find any hybrid you’d like. Agreed?” The poor girl was terrified. She just nodded her head and the woman behind her moved her to face Jihoon.

Although Jihoon always thought he wasn’t one to be easily scared, when the woman looked to him, he felt that if he was standing, he would fall. Her face was partially covered by a spiked mask, leaving only her intense eyes to stare at his soul.

Her hair was pulled to a ponytail and her dark clothes only helped him to become even more scared for his life. Why this female wanted him? For what?! Just then he noticed that the fire shots’ noises were gone.

“Come on, we don’t have much time now.” The masked woman pulled him away from the car while shoved the girl inside. “It wasn’t a pleasure to meet you on person, Miss Park, and I must warn you that if we encounter each other in a place like this again, I’ll not go so easy with you.”

Again, the poor girl just nodded. The masked woman giggle before turn to Jihoon and drag him to the other side of the building. “I suggest you to look straight ahead of us if you don’t want more nightmares.” Her voice sounded different now that they were closer from each other.

Even with her warning, Jihoon was a curious guy after all. He didn’t resist and looked around while they were crossing the building. And then he understood why she said that. There were 7 men walking, spread on the big space, and checking the corpses. That’s right, corpses.

On the floor were the bodies of all the dealers that were arranging all the auction, plus some buyers and some bodyguards. Jihoon screamed and, unconsciously, grabbed the female’s arm. She sighed.

“I told you so. They decided that we needed to be eliminated.” Her tone was almost apologizing. “We were here to do our job that included not to let they leave if they would do this again.” She rushed Jihoon to the door that would lead them to outside the building. He didn’t let go of her arm.

---

“So…” Jackson was quite uncomfortable. “How about Mark drives you two to the center and I go with the others?” He looked almost desperate to you. You laughed. The boy was really scared to go with the hybrid that almost ripped his hand off when he tried to push you away of him.

“I think is a good idea but someone else will come with us, since the other car is full.” Your brighter self was back now that you all took off the masks, although some of you still had the bloody clothes. “How about Youngjae?” The said person nodded to you and enter the passenger seat. Mark also enter the car. “Yeeeeh! Why Youngjae goes in the front!?”

“Youngjae-oppa for you.” You send him your tongue.

“Not when we are working.”

“Stop you two.” Mark called from the driver seat. The other members were already all in the bigger car and ready to leave. “He get the front because I don’t think it’s safe for you AND your new friend to come in the front together.”

He was right. You looked to the hybrid who was glued on your arm since he saw what happened in the building. You sighed and accommodated you and the boy on the back seats. Seeing that everyone were comfortable, Mark started the way to the center.

“Are you okay?” You whispered to the exotic hybrid that was laying on yours side.

“I guess…” You nodded. “You guys are noisy.” He looked to Youngjae that was singing in the front. You laughed.

“Yes, we are. Wait until you meet everyone else. Then you will know what noise is.” There were some minutes of silence between the two of you. “Can I pet you? Sometimes it helps to calm down.”

“No” But as he answered that, he rested his head on your shoulder and snuggle a little. So you ignored his verbal answer and started to caress his ears and the top of his head. Even having answered ‘no’, he soon started to purr and before you arrived to the center, he was fast asleep beside you.

“Yah! Youngjae! Stop the screaming, the poor guy said that you are noisy!”

“Youngjae-oppa, woman!”

“We’re still on work!”

“And I’m singing, not screaming! He said that everyone here was noisy!”

“For every god there is’ sake, stop you two!”

“Yes, hyung…”

“Sorry, Mark…”

---

Jihoon didn’t remember a night of so good sleep like that small travel to another building. He also didn’t really remember right away where he was when he woke up. Something was warm and soft and was patting his ears really lightly.

“Stop touching me.” His words didn’t come out as harsh as he wanted they to be. He would never admit out loud but it was a nice caress. The woman next to him laughed but didn’t stop.

“Well… Since I’d be doing this for the past hour, I think I can continue to do it until you wake completely up and we can get out of the car.” Jihoon didn’t like it. He didn’t want to go out that car, he wanted to sleep more with that noise lady and the goods pets. So he decided.

“I’ll not go out of the car.”

“And why not?” The female sounded almost amused but also surprised.

“Because I like it in here.” He pushed her body down the seat so he would be laying on top of her. “Can’t we sleep here tonight?” Now his voice sounded a lot weaker, since he was almost back to sleep.

“Really?” She was still caressing his ears. She sighed. “Okay. Just tonight, them we go inside tomorrow and all, promise?” He nodded, suddenly  too tired to pronounce words, but he saw the little smile she gave him before also close her eyes.

“Jihoon.”

“What?” She was confused and tired.

“My name. I’m Jihoon.”

“Ooh, I’m (Y/n), nice to meet you, Jihoon.” And with his name said by her as the last thing he heard, they fell asleep on the back seat of the car.

Tag: @rainbow-pandacorn

[3-e-headcanons]

Heat-Haze Days au

I know this song is part of the kagerou days project but for the sake of this fic let’s pretend it’s a stand-alone song ;;ovo

You can find the song here [warning: blood and death]

Fic under read more.

-Ghost Senpai

“I can’t believe the school makes us walk down for assemblies in this sort of heat.”

“Well, we’re E-Class, what’re we to expect from them?” Nagisa listened to Sugaya and Mimura with a smile on his face, “At least these assemblies aren’t too often.” he chimed in with his comment being met by sighs from the two taller boys. The class had split into groups, as usual, to do their treck down to the main campus, with their two most boisterous teachers being left behind. Sugino pat the blue-haired boy before the four of them continued walking, all of them just grateful for the training they all had to undergo due to Korosensei, they all had the slight feeling that without all that practice these hikes would kill them. “It’ll be autumn soon which is good, not too hot but not too cold.”

“The school will probably stop inviting us to assemblies right when the weather is good though, you do realise that, right?”

“Let me fill myself with false hope, Mimura.” Sugaya laughed. Nagisa felt his shoulders loosen, finally relaxing around his peers, despite the fact that they were students aiming to kill their octopus teacher, it was nice to just talk about normal things once in a while. Even if that normal thing was how they have to hike to the main campus because they’re in the ‘worst class’. Unfortunately, this feeling of tranquillity only lasted a few seconds as a rather feminine scream was soon heard from behind the group. “Was that..?” Sugino turned to the source of the sound.

“Okajima.” A laugh was stifled as Sugaya too turned to look, despite the fact that they couldn’t see the screaming boy. A frown crossed Nagisa’s face, “O-Okajima!? Are you okay?” He cupped his hands around his mouth to yell to only be met with silence, the group’s cheerful atmosphere dropped until they finally got a reply, “THE BEES!” Laughs were shared between the four boys as they call continued walking, not giving the pervert much more thought, “Good luck~!” Sugaya called back.

“I can’t believe we even bothered turning up to that thing, all that happened was we were made an example of.” Hara rubbed the back of her neck as the class was gathered in a courtyard on the main campus, none of them yet ready to treck back to their worn down classroom. Hums and mumbles could be heard in agreement, “Not like we have a choice, we have to turn up.” Muramatsu stood with his arms stretching, not willing to risk pulling a muscle as he watched in sympathy and humour at Okajima rubbing his many sting marks from his earlier assault. Nagisa finally felt as if he could take a break, sitting on the concrete floor with Karma and Kaede soon joining him, the heat burning him through his uniform. “Ney, Nagisa, let’s walk home together.” Nagisa felt a prod in his side as his sadistic friends' calm voice could be heard, a smile on his face as he was clearly unphased from the assembly. “Alright!”

“You can’t forget me!” Nagisa almost felt like complaining, he now had Kaede clinging to his left arm and Karma leaning on his head; the warmth of the both of them combined with the sun was almost painful. “Y-Yeah, let’s all walk home together.” 

“You’d better buy me pudding tomorrow!” A pout was on Kaede’s face, as the trio had been walking Karma had spilt his drink on Kaede’s skirt, resulting in it being ruined. He returned a laugh and wave, “Sure thing.” Nagisa too waved at Karma as he went down a different road on the intersection as Kaede and Nagisa. Nagisa felt a wave of anxiety go over him; recently he had noticed Kaede’s behaviour changing slightly as she appeared to be less bubbly at times and seemingly more reckless. Now was one of his few chances to talk to one of his closest friends alone. “Y’know,” Kaede pat down the stain on her skirt as if willing it away would work, “I kind of hate summer.” She boldly muttered, petting a cat that soon crossed their path and picking it up in her arms. “It certainly is hot...” Was all Nagisa could muster in reply as he continued walking, occasionally stealing glances from the cat being cradled. “Geez, Nagisa, I’m really feeling sympathy radiating off of you.” Just as he was about to jump to his own defence, Nagisa quickly turned to face Kaede, a small smile was covering her face as she pet the now squirming cat. “It is hot.” He finally got the words out of his mouth. The two walked in calm silence, well, as silent as a busy city could be. Just as the two of them stopped at the pedestrian crossing, the cat leapt out of Kaede’s arms. Her legs begun carrying her off the safety of the pavement, nearing herself into the road; despite Nagisa’s training, he wasn’t fast enough to grab her arm and pull her back. Chasing after her runaway cat, she found herself plunged before a red traffic light. A passing truck suddenly ran her over and drove away, while Nagisa screamed. He began sobbing at the colour of splashed blood mixed with her scent. The heat haze was sneering at him, reminding Nagisa that it wasn't a joke; he blacked out at the cicadas' noises that were disturbing the surface of the summer lake.

“I can’t believe the school makes us walk down for assemblies in this sort of heat.”

“Well, we’re E-Class, what’re we to expect from them?” Nagisa listened to Sugaya and Mimura with a frown on his face, just last night he had experienced a horrific nightmare in which the same events of today took place with just one difference: Kaede died. Despite his knowledge of it just being a terrible dream, he still felt mortified and mournful over it. “At least these assemblies aren’t too often.” his comment that he used to distract himself from his depressing thoughts were being met by sighs from the two taller boys. The class had split into groups, as usual, to do their treck down to the main campus, with their two most boisterous teachers being left behind. Sugino pat the blue-haired boy before the four of them continued walking, all of them just grateful for the training they all had to undergo due to Korosensei, they all had the slight feeling that without all that practice these hikes would kill them. “It’ll be autumn soon which is good, not too hot but not too cold.”

“The school will probably stop inviting us to assemblies right when the weather is good though, you do realise that, right?”

“Let me fill myself with false hope, Mimura.” Sugaya laughed. Nagisa felt his shoulders loosen, finally relaxing around his peers, despite the fact that he still had a nagging feeling of grief, it was nice to have friends and peers to comfort him. Even if they didn’t realise that was what they were doing. 

Unfortunately, this feeling of tranquillity only lasted a few seconds as a rather feminine scream was soon heard from behind the group. “Was that..?” Sugino turned to the source of the sound. 

“Kaede.” A frown was on Sugaya’s face, the group collectively knew that it was usually Okajima getting wounded on these trips. Nagisa’s stomach dropped. “K-Kayano!? Are you okay?” He cupped his hands around his mouth with panic in his yelling voice. Heart rate increasing; Nagisa did not feel good. In his unfortunate nightmare, he had remembered Okajima being stung, but that happened in the woods. At the moment, the group had just reached the courtyard they met in, having passed construction work being done on the school.

A tearing shriek and the sound of wind chimes echoed through the trees.

 “K-Kayano!” Without thinking, Nagisa began sprinting back towards the construction area with the sounds of feet slamming against the concrete ground following behind him. 

A falling metal pole had pierced through her. Children surrounding the area had all gone pale, screams and yells could be heard as they all looked on at the now bloody body of who was previously Kaede Kayano. Nagisa fell to the ground, only now realising that none of it was a dream yet the heat haze was sneering at him, reminding me that it wasn't a joke. Through his darkening eyes, Nagisa thought he saw her smile. 

It's been repeating for tens of years.

This kind of frequently told story has only one ending,

but it can be found beyond those repeating summer days.

For the past few ‘days’, Nagisa hadn’t been attending school, not that it mattered, time wasn’t properly passing as long as one of his best friends was dying.

Yet today was different.

Nagisa kept his fingers intertwined with the confused Kaede’s hand. “N-Nagisa...? Everything okay?” She was now struggling to hold the apparently cursed black cat in her one arm. 

The memory of her bloodied corpses flooded his memory. 

10.

The traffic signal began turning orange.

9.

Kaede let go of Nagisa’s hand to support the cradled cat.

8.

Nagisa counted down in his head, remembering this scene off by heart.

7.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

6.

The pedestrians traffic signal turned green, a beeping filled the area to indicate the safety of crossing.

5.

The cat left the safety of Kaede’s arms.

4.

Kaede’s legs moved her off the pavement and into the road.

3.

But when he pushed her aside and jumped in, the truck slammed into Nagisa.

2.

The colour of his splashed blood reflected off her eyes and her robotic body.

1.

The seemingly annoyed heat haze was laughing, as though saying "Take that!"

0.

Awakening on August 14 in a bed,

a girl, hugging her cat alone,

said, "It didn't work again." 

[cutting-is-my-salvation]

You want to kill yourself?

It’s 10:53 pm on a Sunday night. You’ve already said goodnight to your parents and siblings. Your door is locked and they think you’re sound asleep. You sit at your desk twirling a pen in your hand. You stare at the blank piece of paper as the tears refill your eyes for the fifth time tonight. You don’t want to do it without writing a goodbye letter. You want to make sure your family knows why you did it. The tears fall onto the paper and you can’t help the frustration as the droplets begin to ruin the paper. You crumble it up and break down even harder. You realize you can’t write the letter, so you look in the mirror once more & watch as your final tear falls. Only a couple moments later your heart stops and the blood escapes your body to create a puddle on the floor. But nobody is going to care, right?

It’s now 6:47 am Monday morning. Your mother waits downstairs in the kitchen to give you your lunch money. She’s already late for work but she doesn’t want you to stress about making lunch for yourself. She doesn’t know what’s taking you so long. She yells your name a couple times, but there’s no response. She has no idea your cold dead body is lying in your bedroom. She thinks you slept in, so she runs up the stairs and knocks on your door. But still, there is no answer. She opens the door and screams, horrified. She runs to you and holds your body. The tears seem like a waterfall, everlasting. She sits there with you cradled in her arms for a good hour, until she has the strength to get up and call your father. Your father rushes home, and they cry together. They pick up your siblings from school and try to explain to them what has happened. Your older brother runs out of your room and into his. He slams the door. He thinks its all his fault. He’s always picked on you, calling you names and starting arguments just to push your buttons. He punches his walls and allows the tears to pour out of him. Your little sister doesn’t understand. She asks if it’s because she always tries to steal your stuff or because she never leaves you alone when you have your friends over. It’s hard to explain something like this to a six year old. But she probably wouldn’t care anyways, right?

It’s now Wednesday and your mom finally goes to your school. She hasn’t left the house since you took your life, but she knew she had to go. She enters your classroom to only see the teacher sitting at her desk grading papers. It’s 12:19pm so your classmates are sitting in lunch. Your teacher greets her and asks where you’ve been. Your mother bursts into tears and your teacher automatically is astonished. She has no idea what’s wrong, but she tries to comfort your mother. Your mom begins to explain what had happened, and your teacher cries too. She begins to have flashbacks of all the times she yelled at you for not paying attention and not doing your homework. She thinks it’s her fault for being to hard on you. Your classmates return and are confused. A couple students recognize your mom and want to say hi, but they sense something is wrong. Your teacher calls the vice principal and principal in and your mom explains. Everyone in the classroom is now crying, Even the annoying boy that sat behind you and threw gum in your hair is crying, thinking its his fault. Even the popular girl that wouldn’t give you the time of day is crying, thinking it’s her fault. Even the nerd that wouldn’t let you copy his homework is crying, thinking it’s his fault. They’re probably all faking, because nobody actually cares, right?

A week has gone buy and it’s time for your funeral. Nobody has ever seen one this large. Almost every kid in your school and their families are there. Actually almost anyone you’ve come into contact with has come. It’s like a pool of black as one looks over the people sitting in the chairs as your dead corpse lies in the casket. Everyone goes up to speak. And after every speech everyone begins to cry even harder. Even the emotionless jock is in hysterics. The funeral lasts many hours; nobody wants to get up, to move on, to accept what has happened is real life. All of them are just too lazy to get up, because they obviously don’t actually care, right?

It’s now been a month since your death. None of your family members have been in your room. The door remains shut. Your mom goes up to your dad and whispers, “it’s time”. Your dad looks at her with his lifeless eyes, nods, and slowly rises from the kitchen table. They enter your room slowly. Just stepping inside of it gives your mother the chills. Your father holds your mom as she begins to tear. He’s trying to be strong, but he can’t, soon the tears swell up in his eyes as well. They begin to pick up your clothes, dust your shelves, and make your bed. The stain on your carpet from your blood has been covered with a rug. Neither of them goes near it. They clean in silence for the next hour. They don’t care that you’re gone; they just didn’t want a messy room, right?

Another week goes by. Your brother passes your room and hears crying coming from inside. He opens the door to see your little sister sitting on your bed clutching your favourite pillow. He runs to her and they cry together. Soon your mother and father have joined them. Your father jokes, “this bed is not big enough for four of us” and everyone laughs. You know, that’s the first time your family has laughed since you died. The first time a smile has even crept on their faces. They hug each other and your mother says, “we’ll get through this, someday…” You thought nobody would care? Well, you were wrong.

Nobody wanted you to take your life. Nobody wanted to wake up and find your body. Nobody wanted this, wished for this, could have imagined this. Some people knew you’ve been down lately, but they never thought this would happen. They never thought this could happen. They never thought they would go through this pain. They never wanted to have to face the agony, the guilt, the frustration, the depression, & the heartache they have been forced to encounter.

Now, before you kill yourself think about it. You matter so much to so many people. There are so many people that will miss you. Your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Do you want to take that away from everyone? From yourself? Never get to smile again, or see the person that makes your heart skip a beat, never get to live? Don’t do that to yourself. You have so much to live for. If you haven’t already, do you really want to miss the opportunity to meet your true friends? Have your first kiss? Fall head over heels in love? Get your heart broken time and time again? Go to college? Get an A+ on that final you studied for days on end for? Get married? Have your own children? What would you do if you walked in to your 14 year old daughter’s room and saw her lying there with no heartbeat, surrounded by a pool of blood. It would be no big deal right? You’d shrug and clean up the blood with a smile on your face as you hum your favourite song that’s been in your head for the past couple days. No. you’d cry and clutch her lifeless body in your arms and cry. Cry, and cry and cry. You’d think it was your fault and a million thoughts would go through your mind. Why would she do this? Is it my fault? Why didn’t she tell me she was depressed? Why didn’t I stop her? How couldn’t I have known? But she was thinking the same thing you were as a child. You know, that nobody would care?

So before you slit your wrist, or swallow all those pills, or hang that rope about your neck and jump from the chair, think twice. Take a deep breath. You’re worth more then this. Nobody should have to think that taking their life is the best thing to do. Anything you’re going through is temporary; the feeling won’t last forever. You’ll get through this. No matter how long it takes you need to know, you will get through this, and you don’t have to face it alone. There are so many people you can talk to. Family, friends, neighbours, teachers, counsellors, hotlines, me, etc. I’m only a sixteen-year-old boy, I don’t know everything, and I don’t even really give good advice. But I will be here for you, no matter what. I will try my absolute hardest to help you. So please; do not ever, EVER, write that letter, or even think about suicide. Life is full of ups and downs for a reason. It makes us stronger, shows us what we can get through. It builds and shapes up into the next generation of parents, grandparents even. You might not see the light at the end of the tunnel yet, but I promise its there. You just have to keep walking towards it. You’ll be okay, I promise you.

[maggiekuniverse]

You want to kill yourself?

It’s 10:53 pm on a Sunday night. You’ve already said goodnight to your parents and siblings. They think you’re sound asleep. You sit at your desk twirling a pen in your hand. You stare at the blank piece of paper as the tears refill your eyes for the fifth time tonight. You don’t want to do it without writing a goodbye letter. You want to make sure your family knows why you did it. The tears fall onto the paper and you can’t help the frustration as the droplets begin to ruin the paper. You crumble it up and break down even harder. You realize you can’t write the letter, so you look in the mirror once more & watch as your final tear falls. Only a couple moments later your heart stops and the blood escapes your body to create a puddle on the floor. But nobody is going to care, right?

It’s now 6:47 am Monday morning. Your mother waits downstairs in the kitchen to give you your lunch money. She’s already late for work but she doesn’t want you to stress about making lunch for yourself. She doesn’t know what’s taking you so long. She yells your name a couple times, but there’s no response. She has no idea your cold dead body is lying in your bedroom. She thinks you slept in, so she runs up the stairs and knocks on your door. But still, there is no answer. She opens the door and screams, horrified. She runs to you and holds your body. The tears seem like a waterfall, everlasting. She sits there with you cradled in her arms for a good hour, until she has the strength to get up and call your father. Your father rushes home, and they cry together. They pick up your siblings from school and try to explain to them what has happened. Your older brother runs out of your room and into his. He slams the door. He thinks its all his fault. He’s always picked on you, calling you names and starting arguments just to push your buttons. He punches his walls and allows the tears to pour out of him. Your little sister doesn’t understand. She asks if it’s because she always tries to steal your stuff or because she never leaves you alone when you have your friends over. It’s hard to explain something like this to a six year old. But she probably wouldn’t care anyways, right?

It’s now Wednesday and your mom finally goes to your school. She hasn’t left the house since you took your life, but she knew she had to go. She enters your classroom to only see the teacher sitting at her desk grading papers. It’s 12:19pm so your classmates are sitting in lunch. Your teacher greets her and asks where you’ve been. Your mother bursts into tears and your teacher automatically is astonished. She has no idea what’s wrong, but she tries to comfort your mother. Your mom begins to explain what had happened, and your teacher cries too. She begins to have flashbacks of all the times she yelled at you for not paying attention and not doing your homework. She thinks it’s her fault for being to hard on you. Your classmates return and are confused. A couple students recognize your mom and want to say hi, but they sense something is wrong. Your teacher calls the vice principal and principal in and your mom explains. Everyone in the classroom is now crying, Even the annoying boy that sat behind you and threw gum in your hair is crying, thinking its his fault. Even the popular girl that wouldn’t give you the time of day is crying, thinking it’s her fault. Even the nerd that wouldn’t let you copy his homework is crying, thinking it’s his fault. They’re probably all faking, because nobody actually cares, right?

A week has gone buy and it’s time for your funeral. Nobody has ever seen one this large. Almost every kid in your school and their families are there. Actually almost anyone you’ve come into contact with has come. It’s like a pool of black as one looks over the people sitting in the chairs as your dead corpse lies in the casket. Everyone goes up to speak. And after every speech everyone begins to cry even harder. Even the emotionless jock is in hysterics. The funeral lasts many hours; nobody wants to get up, to move on, to accept what has happened is real life. All of them are just too lazy to get up, because they obviously don’t actually care, right?

It’s now been a month since your death. None of your family members have been in your room. The door remains shut. Your mom goes up to your dad and whispers, “it’s time”. Your dad looks at her with his lifeless eyes, nods, and slowly rises from the kitchen table. They enter your room slowly. Just stepping inside of it gives your mother the chills. Your father holds your mom as she begins to tear. He’s trying to be strong, but he can’t, soon the tears swell up in his eyes as well. They begin to pick up your clothes, dust your shelves, and make your bed. The stain on your carpet from your blood has been covered with a rug. Neither of them goes near it. They clean in silence for the next hour. They don’t care that you’re gone; they just didn’t want a messy room, right?

Another week goes by. Your brother passes your room and hears crying coming from inside. He opens the door to see your little sister sitting on your bed clutching your favourite pillow. He runs to her and they cry together. Soon your mother and father have joined them. Your father jokes, “this bed is not big enough for four of us” and everyone laughs. You know, that’s the first time your family has laughed since you died. The first time a smile has even crept on their faces. They hug each other and your mother says, “we’ll get through this, someday…” You thought nobody would care? Well, you were wrong.

Nobody wanted you to take your life. Nobody wanted to wake up and find your body. Nobody wanted this, wished for this, could have imagined this. Some people knew you’ve been down lately, but they never thought this would happen. They never thought this could happen. They never thought they would go through this pain. They never wanted to have to face the agony, the guilt, the frustration, the depression, & the heartache they have been forced to encounter.

Now, before you kill yourself think about it. You matter so much to so many people. There are so many people that will miss you. Your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Do you want to take that away from everyone? From yourself? Never get to smile again, or see the person that makes your heart skip a beat, never get to live? Don’t do that to yourself. You have so much to live for. If you haven’t already, do you really want to miss the opportunity to meet your true friends? Have your first kiss? Fall head over heels in love? Get your heart broken time and time again? Go to college? Get an A+ on that final you studied for days on end for? Get married? Have your own children? What would you do if you walked in to your 14 year old daughter’s room and saw her lying there with no heartbeat, surrounded by a pool of blood. It would be no big deal right? You’d shrug and clean up the blood with a smile on your face as you hum your favourite song that’s been in your head for the past couple days. No. you’d cry and clutch her lifeless body in your arms and cry. Cry, and cry and cry. You’d think it was your fault and a million thoughts would go through your mind. Why would she do this? Is it my fault? Why didn’t she tell me she was depressed? Why didn’t I stop her? How couldn’t I have known? But she was thinking the same thing you were as a child. You know, that nobody would care?

So before you slit your wrist, or swallow all those pills, or hang that rope about your neck and jump from the chair, think twice. Take a deep breath. You’re worth more then this. Nobody should have to think that taking their life is the best thing to do. Anything you’re going through is temporary; the feeling won’t last forever. You’ll get through this. No matter how long it takes you need to know, you will get through this, and you don’t have to face it alone. There are so many people you can talk to. Family, friends, neighbors, teachers, counsellors, hotlines, me, etc. I will be here for you, no matter what. I will try my absolute hardest to help you. So please; do not ever, EVER, write that letter, or even think about suicide. Life is full of ups and downs for a reason. It makes us stronger, shows us what we can get through. It builds and shapes up into the next generation of parents, grandparents even. You might not see the light at the end of the tunnel yet, but I promise its there. You just have to keep walking towards it.

✨Thanks for posting this Jacy Johnson. It can hit home for so many! I just had to share! ✨

[orionwhispers]

Devil Like Me (Part III)

(A/N Hey guys!Here is Part III, hope you enjoy it! I had so much fun writing it and great plans for the next few chapters. My inbox is always open!)

Then

Coincidentally, the next time you saw him was Halloween. The night was dark, a deep ebony black seeping into the town. Candlelit pumpkins and decorative skeletons lined the streets, but you were feeling anything but festive. A few weeks had passed since Sarah’s death, but it still played in your mind like a horror movie. 

Before everything happened, you had plans for this evening, a costume party held by a boy in the year above. You and Jasmine had spent the past months finding the perfect costume, scouring eBay to find items that matched your “Buffy and Willow” ensemble. How entirely ironic. 

You bailed on the night, making up something about late essays and angry teachers. Your friend understood, pretending she believed you, but you knew that she felt pity for you. You must have seemed crazy. She was the one to find you, hovering over Sarah’s corpse covered in her blood, whimpering about a demon-like beast. 

That wasn’t the only reason you stayed home. Aunt Jean wasn’t well, for as long as you had known her she had been sick, but she was getting worse and your episode surely didn’t help. She was ghastly white, almost translucent, and she was becoming much thinner, you could see the outline of her skeleton every time she moved. Despite her protests, you tended to her to the best of your ability, and now after a hot bath, she was tucked into bed with a freshly brewed mug of chamomile tea. 

You wandered around the small house quietly, climbing up the stairs to your bedroom in the attic. Woolly socks slipping on the pine floors. You finally settled into your bed, cradling a bowl of buttered popcorn and the cat, Maple snoozing in your lap. Thoughts scrambling through your brain like lightning bolts, you shuffled around. Far too distracted to relax to the old Wes Craven movie flickering on the T.V in front of you.

The house was freezing despite your blanket, sending shivers down your body, the ancient grandfather clock in the hallway ticked meticulously and branches on the trees outside scraped on the bay windows like nails on a chalkboard. You’d lived here almost your entire life, but the old house still spooked you, the floorboards creaking and the boiler rattling, not to mention the constant water dribbling from the taps no matter how tight they were screwed shut. 

Small candles gave a soft glow in the dark and you settled deeper into your cushions, eyelids growing heavy. Maple had leapt off of you now and was perched on the windowsill waiting to catch sight of any birds. You had only started to drift off when a loud screech made you jump out of your skin. 

“Maple,” You groaned batting a hand towards the tabby cat who was pawing at the window. Her fur was raised and she was hissing, something very unlike the gentle girl you had had since a kitten. You reluctantly crawled out of bed, wincing as the cool air hit your bare shoulders and reached for the distressed feline.

“Its ok baby,” You murmured holding her against your chest, but she wriggled ferociously causing you to drop her on the floor and watch her crawl under the bed. “What has gotten into you?” You muttered rubbing the sore scratches on your forearm.

“There’s nothing out there…” You began, voice trailing off as you reluctantly peered out of the window into the night. The trees were spiked, menacing looking, casting shadows across the lawn, but they were by far the least terrifying.

Stood directly in your line of sight was him. He looked entirely human, although you knew that wasn’t true, you knew you should be terrified and half of your body wanted to run back into the protection of your bed, crawling under the sheets until morning. Instead, you stayed, breathing growing heavy as you stared directly at him holding his gaze, almost as a challenge. He stared back, making your stomach coil but something was keeping you there, both of you watching the other, an unspoken communication between you. His lips turned up into a smirk, and again he was gone, leaving you gasping for air.

Now

Sunlight streamed into your eyes and you groaned pulling the covers over yourself and turning onto your side. For a moment you forgot where you were, your mind so scrambled with sleep you assumed you were back in the cottage about to start another shift at the diner. Realisation slowly sunk in and you sat up, trying to mentally prepare yourself for whatever the day would bring.

Before you had even fully stirred, you heard the locks on the door sliding, and a tall man you didn’t recognise towering over you from the foot of the bed. 

“Morning Y/N, I trust you slept well?” he asked handing you a bowl of chocolate cereal, your favourite. 

You gave him a weak smile, stirring the flakes into a milky mush. “Fine thank you, but probably better if I knew where I was. Will Elijah be joining me anytime today?”

He sighed crossing his arms “They both had to attend to some business, I’m sure Elijah will answer any inquiries you have later."  

"Did Klaus tell you not to answer my questions?” you asked quirking your brow.

He gave you a small smirk, “He said you were very bright. Have a pleasant morning Y/N." 

"How long will he keep me locked up like this?” You asked, but he just gave you a hesitant smile and closed the door behind him.

Your fingers trailed down the spine of the book you had picked up from the dresser, your mind was too active to read it but flicking through the pages was a welcome distraction. You were lounging on an armchair by the window- one you hadn’t smashed- peering into the distance hoping it would give you some insight as to where you were located, but all you could see was a manicured garden surrounded by trees. 

“It’s called Mystic Falls.”

“Elijah.” You smiled at the suit wearing Original. 

“Sorry I kept you waiting, we had some issues to negotiate.”

“It’s fine really.”

He strode towards you, sitting on the edge of the windowsill. 

“So Mystic Falls huh?”

“Yes, in Virginia. I think you’ll like it.”

You nodded, still fingering the pages of the old book before Elijah reached forward and steadied your shaking hands. 

“What kind of trouble is he in now Lij?”

“He can handle himself." 

"Well, where is he?”

“He’s sorting out a situation, I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

You scoffed, folding your arms and got to your feet. 

“So this is the plan huh? He doesn’t want me to leave but he won’t come and talk to me? This is bullshit!”  

Elijah rubbed his forehead and gestured for you to step towards him, “Let’s go for a walk." 

You quirked a brow, "Is that allowed?”

“I don’t know about you, but I think we both have a lot to catch up with from over the past two years. Besides, no matter what Klaus might think, he isn’t always right." 

"Believe me, I know”

The air was so refreshing against your skin, old boots crunching on the leaves as you both strolled around the garden. Elijah knew you well, you already liked Mystic Falls, despite not even leaving the residence. The garden itself was beautiful, lined with manicured hedges and bushes of red and white roses all centring a great glimmering pond. 

You cringed thinking back to your initial attempt at escape. When Elijah had unlocked the door, he informed you that Klaus had a witch hex the entire house. That meant that if you had bashed in the door, you wouldn’t have even made it past the hallway. You had to awkwardly wait whilst Elijah demanded she undid the spell temporarily, but you were grateful for all the trouble he was going to. 

“How are Kol and Rebekah?” You asked as you both strode through the damp grass. 

“Klaus removed Kol’s dagger, something he’s very grateful for. Rebekah has some issues to sort out, but you should see her soon, I believe Klaus has plans for some sort of ball.”

You awkwardly nod toying with the sleeves of the oversized sweater you had been leant. 

“I’m guessing there is trouble in Mystic Falls? Wherever there’s trouble, the Mikaelsons are not far behind.”

He chuckles, rubbing his hands together “You’re not wrong my dear, but its nothing for you to worry about. C'mon, lets head back inside. I’m rather cold, aren’t you?”

You link your small arm with his and hold him back for a second “Thank you Lij, I really missed you.”

He smiled graciously and you knew he felt the same.

“You were under strict orders to not let her out of the house, are you bloody incompetent?" 

You and Elijah shared a grimace as you headed to the French doors leading to the foyer, already knowing whose voice that belonged to.

"I don’t think I can do this.” you murmured rubbing your sweaty palms together, your breath quickening. 

“Let me calm him down, just follow me,” Elijah muttered rubbing his forehead, you were certain he was suffering from migraines just thinking about the situation. 

“For God’s sake, she could be anywhere by now, if you don’t find her soon. I will start ripping out hearts.” You could hear his voice, so distinguishable against all the commotion and you couldn’t help the clench in your chest. 

“Klaus, Elijah was the one who let her out, we were just following his orders..”

“The only person you listen to is me! Do I make myself clear?" 

"Yes." 

The mansion was large, light and welcoming but you couldn’t have felt more trapped.Elijah gave you a comforting smile before striding towards the lounge, his heavy frame hiding you from sight.

"Oh, there he is! Elijah, would you mind telling me what in the hell you thought you were doing letting Y/N out?”

“Calm down brother,” The older sibling began, you stayed tucked behind him. Terrified that if you saw the man you had betrayed all those years ago that your walls would come crumbling down.

“Calm down? Calm down? Do you have any idea what hell I’ve been through looking for her? I won’t let you ruin it.”

“She’s not a dog, Niklaus. You cant keep her trapped here like one.”

“Well I obviously can’t trust her by herself can I?”

That one hurt.

Hands shaking and body twitching, you realised that it was now or never, time to finally face your demons. You took a step to the side, and three heads snapped up towards you, you lifted your eyes from the floor to the man you had spent so long trying to forget. He was staring back at you, reminiscent of all those years ago when you were a naive teenager, gazing at those eyes through the window pane of your small bedroom. He was as beautiful as ever, a work of art worth millions more than all the sculptures and sketches in this house combined. Your eyes were glassy as they met his curly hair and pale skin, plump pink lips you used to kiss until you were dizzy. Everything came rushing back, and you had to try to gulp it all down, not wanting him to know that he was still your biggest weakness. Despite your whole body shaking with nerves, you gathered up as much courage as you could muster.

“Hello, Klaus.”

[robotlit]

“Scene Queen”

[PROMPT: You are a scene queen in the year 2005! You love Hello Kitty, anime, Manic Panic, and hot emo boys. You have 20,000 MySpace friends, and someone in your Top 8 just gave you tickets to a super-secret concert in the city tonight.]

In fact, you're so happy right now that you don't even notice when you fall off the bed and into the floor.

When you wake up, it's morning. You look at yourself in the mirror and see that you've gained a few pounds since last night, but nothing too out of the ordinary for you. You also notice that you still have a bit of stubble on your chin. 

"Shaving today," you say, staring into the mirror.

You get dressed in a black cowl-necked sweater and black skinny jeans. You comb your hair and apply a little clear lip gloss, then get your bag and head out the door.

The walk to school is pretty boring, as usual. You think about what you'll talk to Tom about when you see him. You think about how you wish your best friend in the whole world was still alive. Maybe it'd be easier if he was. Maybe you'd even fall in love.

You arrive at school, which is pretty empty save for a few walking corpses. Class is just starting, so you go sit in the corner of your first period class and wait for everyone to arrive. You don't have too much to do during the class itself, so you mostly zone out. Still, your mind wanders to Grace. Why had she decided to go kill herself last night? Was it really that bad? Were there other causes other than those lesbians that were bothering her?

You think back to your high school years. Sure, Grace had come out, but it didn't seem to bother her too much. She didn't really change her attitude or anything.

"Hello," a voice says, waking you from your thoughts. You look up at the speaker. It's Tom.

"Hey," you reply.

"I saw you sitting here in the corner. Were you waiting for me?"

"Yeah," you nod. "How have you been? What have you been up to?"

"I've been okay," he shrugs. "I'm still in this town, still in this school. Almost all my old friends are dead now."

"Really? I had thought that you moved."

“No, I said almost all of them. I still remember the ones who moved. I don't have anything to do with them anymore. They're in a different league than me. You seem to have a lot of questions for me. I'm still sitting here. Would you like to ask me anything?"

"Yeah, what were you planning to do after high school?" you ask.

"After high school... I don't know. Go travelling I guess. See the world. Then I got my AA, and then... well then the infection happened. After that, nothing. I guess I fell into depression. After the infection spread, most of my friends were dead. I didn't have anything to do. So I came back here. Surprised nobody bothered me."

"Well, there's a group of kids that travel around the city in a U-haul. They do scavenging jobs and stuff. They even have a community protecting them out of some building they found. It's in the east part of the city. They recruited me when I was 15. I'm now... I'm now 16 I guess. I stayed out of the city center entirely. It's called 'The Pockets'."

"Is that so? So what happened to the others in your group? Did they die?"

"Well, there was the guy who ran the thing, and I think two girls. I think one of them killed herself, the other one went crazy and killed her boyfriend. The last one died of natural causes... I think. It was a while ago."

"That's terrible," Tom says, shaking his head. "I had two friends in high school. They also killed themselves. It's been a problem in our generation. I don't know what to do."

"I don't think you should blame yourself," you suggest. "I mean, how could you know what was going on inside their heads?"

"I guess. I mean... I don't know. I have so many questions. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's been a long time. They're here with us always, and in our hearts. Don't forget to put them there."

"I won't," Tom says with a nod. "Thank you for talking to me. I feel a little less depressed after our conversation."

"I'm happy to be of help. I have to go now. My first period is starting."

"Okay. Thank you again, and goodbye. I like your shirt. The song is lovely. I also like your haircut."

"Thanks... Um, I like your ears. They're cute. I'll see you later. Goodbye."

You walk away from Tom. You can feel his large, brown eyes on you the whole time, following your every move.

"Are you sure you don't want to come back with me? We could exchange phone numbers," Tom says from behind you. You can feel your face heat up, not because it's warm, but because you're embarrassed.

"I can't do that, Tom. We're only meet-cutes. It's not going to be a relationship."

"I know. That's what makes it so hard. I really like you, you know. I really like your ears. They're so... furry."

The bell for first period to start ringing. "Well, I have to go," you say.

"Okay. See you later, Zee. Give my regards to your furry ears. They're so cute."

"Goodbye, Tom. Give my regards to your friends."

You walk away from Tom. You don't look back, because you can feel his eyes on you the whole time. It's been a long time since you've had this much attention on you, and it's a little overwhelming.

You enter the school building, walking down the hallways with a few other people. Eventually, you end up in the same class together. The teacher starts passing out textbooks, and you open yours. You learn that it's going to be a long school year.

The next couple of days pass, and Tom tries to talk to you a few times. You feel awkward about the whole thing, so you just dismiss him. You don't want to seem like you're leading him on.

On Thursday, he stops you as you're walking to your next class. "Zee," he says, "can we talk?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," you reply. 

"Please? Pretty please? With... a... cherry on top?"

Now you feel really awkward. "Fine," you say. "Let's go outside and talk."

You walk outside with Tom, and sit on the steps of the school.

"So..." Tom says, trailing off.

"So...," you reply.

"You're really pretty," Tom says. "And your ears are so... furry."

You feel yourself blushing again. "Well... thanks," you say.

"I like your friends too. Is it hard being friends with someone so much prettier than you?"

"It is hard. But I made some, so it's not so bad."

"I like your friends anyway. They're nice. Especially the one with the tail. I really like your ears. They're so cute. And fuzzy."

"Thanks, I think."

"I have a question. Do all your friends have ears like yours?" Tom asks.

"What do you mean? Like this." You put your hand up to your ear, and Tom does the same.

"No. Much longer. And a lot bigger. More furry," Tom says.

You think you know what he's asking, and you nod. "Yes. All of my friends are furry Eared," you reply.

Tom's mouth gapes a little, before he lets out a laugh.

"I like you," Tom says, "You're funny."

"You're weird," you reply.

"That's for sure," Tom says, standing. "I have to go."

"Okay."

You walk in silence to your next class. You don't talk to most people on a daily basis, so you have trouble making conversation. It's not really something you ever really tried to do before.

After school, you walk home with Tom following you, as he does most days. He likes to walk home with you, even though he lives only a few houses away. He says it's because he stole your pack the first time you met, and he doesn't want to give it back. You don't really think he'd try to mug you or anything if that were true. He's been hanging around you for so long now, it seems more like he likes your company.

When you walk in the door, your mom is there.

"Zee, I saw Tom outside, walking around the house. What's going on? Why are you still hanging around this guy, Zee?"

You don't have an answer.

"You know what? I don't want to deal with this. I'm cutting all contact with you. If you want to talk to each other, go ahead. Otherwise, don't. But I'm not going to be around for it. And I don't want to see you. So goodbye, Zee. I'll see you on the inside when you leave for college, and I hope you have a lot of fun doing that. Goodbye, Tom. See you later."

Your mom turns around, walking out of the room. Tom looks at you, and you give him a small smile. He smiles back, before following your mom into the house.

You're by yourself now. The silence makes you a little sad. After a few minutes, you hear a knock at the door.

"Zee? Are you home?" a voice asks.

"No, I'm out," you reply.

"Can you open up? I really want to see you."

You shrug, opening the door up.

"Zee, I really like you. Will you go out with me?"

You stare at the ground.

"Do you want to go out with me?"

Well, this is a first.

"Yeah," you reply.

You hear a sigh from the other side of the door.

"Well, I guess that's a no then."

The door is pulled open to reveal Carter.

"Hello," he says, his smile dropping as you stare at him in silence. "You're not going out with me, are you?" he asks.

You shake your head.

"No. Sorry. I don't have time."

Carter frowns. "I see. So you won't go out with me, but another guy complained about you not returning his romantic feelings?"

"What? No. I don't have time for that. I'm busy with school and... and..."

"Doing cocaine and having groupies?"

You stare at him, before bursting into laughter.

"Yeah... a bit of both, I guess."

Carter frowns. "I just don't understand why you're not interested in me. We get on so well."

You shrug, scratching behind your ear. "Maybe I'm just not into guys."

Carter stares at you for a few moments, before shrugging. "Fine, I'll leave you be. I'll see you later, Zee."

"Bye, Carter."

Carter walks off, leaving you alone in the hallway. You continue on to your room, collapsing onto your bed.

You think about the guys that have approached you in the past, wondering why you don't feel anything for them. You think back to when you had a crush on the boy who played bass in the garage band you used to book when you were fifteen. You never told him, and he moved away two years later. You were glad, because it meant you didn't have to feel bad about yourself anymore.

You moved on, but your love of music stayed with you. It became your way of escaping reality for a little while. You had to quit when you joined the military to avoid getting into trouble with your superiors. After you got out, you applied to USC and got in, never dreaming that you'd be a doctor one day.

You couldn't be happier, but you find it a bit sad that you'll never really use what you learned, seeing as you won't be around long enough to actually treat anyone.

As you lie in bed, drifting off to sleep, you think about how much easier life would be if you didn't have to make all the hard choices. Then you smile, knowing you don't really have that choice. You chose to join the military, a job that takes all those choices away from you. A job that takes away your freedom and forces you to do things you may not necessarily want to do, but know you have to. A job that takes away your choice, to some degree. But a job that gives you back something far more valuable: your life. And for that, you are truly grateful.

[shimayufanfiction]

Branches - Two Fates. One Tale

A/N: In dire need of feedback! Please leave a comment! XD

Universe: Alternate Universe / Sousei no Onmyouji (manga)

Pairing: Shimon x Mayura

Rated T

Author: lovingtimetravelexpert

Branches – Two Fates. One Tale

Chapter 1: Legend of the past and the future

Blood spluttered out of the wound. A fountain of scarlet liquid, sipping through two holes having been plunged deeply into the flesh, poured down the white bloodless skin. A death rattle, the rasping breath of a living thing dying, accompanied the sight, disturbing the silence.

Watching the display in front of him, he frowned.

He had seen it before. Had seen it often. There had been a time he lived for it. Loved to see the life slowly fade, fear and pain clouding their widened eyes, contorting their faces into masks of terror. They had no idea how good they had it.

He'd spent years amusing himself, feeling the rush of the hunt and the pleasure of soaking the life out of his victim. He'd slain and slaughtered before he'd spent decades on envying their short-lived lives. Envied their ability to sense – everything! – while he could not taste anything but blood, could not smell anything but fear and could not feel anything but lust and agony.

And then there had been one thing and one thing only on his mind: To free his soul from the slings attached.

He had searched for one person, the one man to end this endless repetition of sating his thirst and growing new hunger, and before he knew it, centuries had gone bye. He'd crossed realms searching for him, had seen creatures like himself and monstrosities that made even his hair stand on his neck. He'd traveled through dry deserts, over cold snow dunes and shipped over the big sea; only to find himself back where he had started. Where it all began and where he was born not once but twice. Where he was killed and revived by the hands of something more powerful than himself. It wasn't luck. He knew better. It was yet another carve in the coffin that was his twisted fate. He would not be surprised to find out that his one task was impossible.

The thud on the floor startled him out of his line of thought. The wide eyed corpse rested against the wooden wall of the house he had been lured out off moments ago.

He looked at his brother, who had walked the surface of earth for centuries at his side and now wiped off the blood from the corners of his mouth, tainting a snow white handkerchief with a deep red. The color of the liquid of life, which he and his brother needed to prolong their death.

Raising an eyebrow, he waited for a reaction of his brother, who had the same red flaming hair and similar sky blue eyes as he had. Though, Keiji was said to look more friendly; eyes less icy and quick to smile, in contrast to his own constant scowl.

Probing for information, he asked his brother, "Did he know something?"

"Seems like our henchmen were correct. There is someone living in this village who is believed to be the one we need," Keiji turned. The end of his dark coat swiped the air, swirling up the dark alley's dust. He sighed and complained, "I do prefer the sweetness of a young girl over the sour and dry taste of men."

"So it all ends where it began, huh?" He commented, rather sour. He was tired of this game, a game he had not known he agreed to play, back when his heart had ached in pain and love enough to blind his reason.

"Narukami," his brother murmured lowly. They both had unfaded memories of this place, where they had lived until they died.

"Did you miss it?" Keiji inquired.

"After what happened here? Hardly," he answered. The short span of his life hadn't been the one with the fondest memories, when every day, starving had been more likely than surviving.

Nevertheless, even after centuries, he remembered how he felt, when he heard her kind laughter or saw her sweet smile. He remembered how his heart had clenched, jumped in joy and twisted in awe. He could almost feel it while he remembered, almost felt the silent organ start pumping in his chest again. Yet, it was an illusion.

It was the price he had to pay his executioner all this time ago.

"What's your plan, Shimon?" His brother's voice came to him, disturbing the weird form of melancholia and indifference he had never grown used to.

If the one he needed to free his soul was here, in this tiny village far from the blooming civilization of the new cities, he was closer than he'd ever been. It had been over a century, since he began to hunt down the lineage of Amawaka.

Soon he would meet the last of them and he wanted to make sure that it happened.

"Let us celebrate our arrival," he said. "Take as many villagers as you can as prisoners. If he is not part of them, he will come out either way."

"As you command," Keiji bowed before he turned on the heels of his leather boots and walked away, becoming one with the shadows of the alley.

Shimon set his eyes, once again, onto the motionless body resting against the hut. Many had died for his course. Many had he killed for pleasure or nutrition, most times both. He wondered if it had been, what They had wanted.

As he turned away to go back to the carriage they'd left in front of the town, he ran his tongue over his pointed teeth.

There was one wish. One desire and one desire only: To free his soul. To accomplish that, he needed to fulfill his part of the legend. The legend that had bound him to an unlived life and undone death.

He was destined to pour the blood of the one who would bring him to fall.

The sword slashed straight down towards her. In the last moment she lifted her own weapon to stop the blow from cutting her in half. Supporting her one-edged blade with a hand pressed against the blunt side of her sword, she did her best not to stumble. Her feet slid back on the dry earth, crunching below her boots, as she tried to hold her balance by bending her knees.

"Argh," she groaned. Pushing back with all her might she rose into an upright position again. Then she kicked her attacker's shin. The dark haired man jumped back with a whimper.

She sucked in harsh breaths, feeling tired from the exertion. Her strength wasn't physical power. Compared to her opponent, she was physically weaker, but she'd trained hard and relentlessly to polish her skills in speed and flexibility.

With a roar she jumped towards him and feinted a straight blow. As he rose his sword to block the impact, she shifted to her left. Strands of blonde hair fell into her face. In the blink of an eye she hit his hand with the end of her handle and knocked the sword out of his hand.

"Ouch! You're not supposed to break my bones during sparring, Mayura," her teacher complained, supporting the hand she'd hit with his other. Jinya was older than her. Almost a decade older. Although they weren't related, she thought of him as an uncle. Since her father's death, he had taken care of her, for which she was utterly grateful.

"And what was that earlier? You could have sliced me in two," she countered.

"I knew you would block the hit," he replied cheekily, smirking at her. His pointed face with the narrow eyes did not look kind, yet when he smirked like that, she could not help but smile.

Turning around, she walked to the small, shabby shed they used to store their weapons in. It might have been for storage of wheat or rice once; now, it was rotting away. They used it to keep weapons and tools for field work as dry as possible without them lying around in the house. It must have been built long before the larger house next to it, which did not look quite as shabby, and which she called her home.

Mayura sighed, tired and weary. It felt she was doing nothing but training these days. Not only was it eating on her physically, but she'd rather spend her time with the others who worked on the field, cooked, washed and looked out for the smaller children. Also she really missed hanging out with her best friend. Yet, she was forced to spend her time improving her skills in swordsmanship, training her reaction speed, her balance and accuracy. And everything just because of some legend that nobody knew if it would come true.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Frustrated she turned around and wailed, "Can we call it a day now, please? I am very tired."

"You know that the monster will never rest either," Jinya said, frowning at her. The scar beneath his right eye budged and bowed, curved like a smile. It was one of his favorite arguments, whenever she complained about her training.

"But we don't know if the legend will ever come true." Aggravated, Mayura raised her hands and gesticulated wildly. "What if it is not about me? What if it is about my children?"

"Your father said similar things, but in a different tone," her uncle rebuked her. "He did everything to protect you. He gave his own life to do so."

It felt like a stab to her heart. She should have foreseen him mentioning her father. The proud and strong man who gave his life for her when the henchmen of the monster had searched for them.

They had never found his body.

Huffing, Mayura's arms fell to her sides and her gaze to the ground. "I know, but I- I have never seen one of them." She shrugged, feeling helplessly. It wasn't that she was afraid to fight. She was afraid to fail. Swallowing down her biggest doubt, she formulated one of the few ones that had been on her mind for a while, "How do they look? Will I recognize the monster, if it stood in front of me?"

"You ought to do what was promised." Again, one of the sentences she'd heard thousand times before. The burden pressed down on her shoulders, making her feel small.

Jinya stood in front of her on the trampled path between the shabby shed and the orphanage, arms crossed and chin raised. The only thing moving was his pony tail whipping in the wind. His face was hard – as if it was carved in stone. There was no compassion or empathy in his gaze, now.

Nevertheless she tried to get him to fathom the reasons of her doubts, shaking her head in defeat. "I've never killed anyone. How am I supposed to do this?"

He put a hand onto her shoulder and squeezed it slightly. "You have the blood of the Amawaka lineage running through your veins."

Blood. That was all it was about. A legend of blood. Yet, she could not see how the last of the Amawaka bloodline, who was said to stop the monster, was supposed to be her, especially when she thought blood to be as thick as water for all of her brothers and sisters that weren't related to her. What was the importance of blood when she had a family bound by fate and luck?

Suddenly she heard the sound of thumping and turned around and saw a blonde girl her age running with stomping large steps towards them. It was Yuki who started yelling, "Jinya! Jinya!" She came to a stop in front of said man and breathed harshly, bending her upper body down with hands stemmed against her knees.

Evil foreboding rained down on Mayura. Her muscles tensed and quivered. Her fears were confirmed, when Yuki straightened her posture and uttered, "They are here. He is here. They besieged the village and took prisoners."

Gasping, Mayura rose a shaking hand to her heart.

Jinya grabbed Yuki's shoulders and shook her, "Who was with you in the village? Where are they?"

"Rokuro," Yuki squeaked. She started sobbing and groaned out, "They took Rokuro."

A/N: What do you think? Is it good enough for a contest? Are you excited to learn what happens next or is it too generic? Please, talk to this author. :P

[houseofspace]

Karma Akabane x Yandere! Reader

You absent-mindedly smiled at your phone as you went through your photos. Only one person filled your gallery and no one else ever would: Karma Akabane. 

Such a psychotic girl (or whatever gender you identify as) you were. You were the sweetest student in the E-Class, not even students from the main school could bring themselves to hate you. Why? You didn’t even know yourself why people thought you were a nice person. You took advantage of it anyway, you spoiled your friends with compliments and the occasional homemade treat or two. 

You always kept an eye on Karma. You would usually see him staring out a window. Either that or he would be talking to some girl. You yourself couldn’t force yourself to talk to him. Even if you had no problem faking a personality, your love for Karma was real and you knew it was visible enough for anyone to notice. 

Three bodies were deteriorating in your basement already. You got two other girls expelled. You were planning to add a fourth corpse. 

You ate your dinner in silence. Your parents were dead since you were ten but you didn’t care. Every person in the world could die and the only one you needed was Karma. 

Tomorrow was Christmas, meaning it would also be Karma’s birthday. The rest of the school had Christmas off but not for the E-Class. You didn’t care at all though. 

You were planning to make a bento for him and after that, carry out your plan to murder Manami Okuda. 

You watched Karma for a little bit once lunch started. Everyone always found their own special place to eat but Karma never left the classroom. He seemed to be in deep thought and you wondered what he was thinking about. 

You crept silently behind him, suddenly thinking this was a bad idea. 

“K-Karma-kun.” you heard yourself stutter to catch his attention. 

“Hm? (Y/N)-chan?” 

“Happy birthday, Karma-kun!” you said more confidently and presented the bento you made for him from behind your back. You saw the surprise on his face and you felt a rush of warmth spread through your body. 

He took your lunch and opened it eagerly. You noticed that Karma had never brought lunch to school and thought that it would be the perfect gift. 

“Thank you, (Y/N)-chan! You’re the first person to have ever made me lunch,” he said and you felt a blush make its way onto your cheeks. You looked away and played with your fingers behind your back. “It was nothing really,” you mumbled. “I’d make you lunch every day if you wanted.”

Karma didn’t hear you since he was too busy devouring his lunch. You took a seat in front of him and watched him eat every last bite.

Okuda walked into the classroom carrying something wrapped in a piece of cloth. You mustered up the biggest smile you could and waved at her. “Okuda-chan! I was just going to come looking for you.” You said. 

What you were planning to do was to ask her to tutor you in her favorite and best subject: science. The two of you would be alone in your house and absolutely nothing could get in the way of the murder you were going to commit. 

The small girl unwrapped the cloth and revealed her own bento and placed it next to your now empty container. 

You were fuming. How dare she decide to cook something for your love? Did she think she deserved to have Karma’s attention?

“Uwah~I’m getting so much food.” Karma laughed and you giggled a little. I put my heart and soul into that meal, there’s no way he would like that bitch’s bento better than mine you thought. 

“Okuda-chan, can I ask you a favor?” you asked and she nodded. “Will you tutor me in science please?” 

“Of course I will! But Karma also needed my help.” She laughed a little and you were ready to break. “Oh, that's fine,” you replied and said nothing more. 

“We’ll have to go to your house, (Y/N)-senpai,” Okuda said and you hummed in response. You weren’t willing to leave the two of them alone even if it killed you to remain in the same room as her. 

The girl had gotten used to calling you Senpai since you helped her study many times in the past. 

The presence of your love would definitely affect your plan but you couldn’t stand to see Okuda laughing with Karma for another day. Only a minor obstacle, you thought as students were starting to file in for afternoon classes. 

School ended quickly and soon, you were walking home with Karma and Okuda. You were left out of their conversation but you were keeping it together fairly well. Afterall, this girl wouldn’t be much of a problem in a few hours. 

“Make yourselves at home. I’ll be going into the kitchen for a bit,” you said and the two of them sat down on a couch. 

As you were gathering food onto a tray, you began to think. There’s no way I can kill Okuda without Karma knowing, maybe if I just pull her away for a bit then lie to Karma...

“What’s that smell, Senpai?” Okuda asked and wrinkled her nose a bit. You had gotten used to the smell of rotting corpses in your home but you forgot it might’ve been an issue for guests. 

“Oh, that? We had an infestation and had to have it treated. That’s just the smell of the spray.” You lied. You were an excellent liar, no word that left your mouth could be doubted.

An hour passed with Okuda quizzing Karma and you and then she suddenly stood. “I have to be home for dinner!” she exclaimed and your eyes lit up. Oh, how God has favored me, you thought. 

“I’ll walk you out, we have to go out through the back door though,” you said and stood up quickly. Karma seemed to be falling asleep, you couldn’t believe your luck. 

Okuda was about to reach for the handle when you grabbed her wrist harshly. “I want to show you something in the basement,” you said almost monotonously and you could sense her anxiousness starting to rise.

You dragged her down the stairs as the smell became more and more prominent.

Don’t snap.

Don’t snap.

Don’t snap.

You snapped. You had tucked a knife into your skirt when you were getting snacks for your guests. You whipped it out and you saw the betrayal on her face for a split second, right before your knife plunged into her gut. 

Once you started, you couldn’t stop. You stabbed her over and over and over. In her chest, in her throat, in her limbs, and her head. You had to hold her mouth shut to muffle her screams but it didn’t do much. Even when her body went limp and her skin grew cold you didn’t stop.

“O-Okuda-chan.” You heard a voice whisper. 

You turned your head to the top of the stairs where the love of your life stood, body shaking from what you couldn’t tell was either fear or anger. Your hand still gripped that knife that was used to take the life of your classmate. 

You couldn’t hold yourself any longer a few moments ago. You couldn’t stop yourself from pulling the poor girl down the stairs and onto the floor. You couldn’t stop yourself from taking the knife behind your back. Your love for Karma knew no limits. 

If you could’ve just held onto your sanity just a little longer, you could’ve dragged Okuda away from the stairs and to the part of the room that was soundproofed. You could’ve gotten away with this murder. But you didn’t give two shits anymore.

You felt your grin grow wider as you dropped the body. 

“Karma-kun~” you sang and took a step up the stairs. You heard him take a sharp breath. “Are you scared~?” you asked and you could feel his rage. His grip on the door frame tightened. You could sense he was going to run. 

“Love, there’s nowhere to run. No use in banging on locked doors and windows, right, Love?” 

His panting became more obvious and you took yet another step up the stairs. Your steps were unsteady, your mind was decreasing in its stability with every passing moment. “You killed her,” he said. 

You couldn’t stop your uncontrollable laughter. “I killed her? I killed her? Oops, I guess my hand slipped!” You laughed and you could see him on the verge of breaking. “You’re a monster.”

“Me? The monster? Love, I thought you enjoyed violence!” You said and stepped closer. “If I recall correctly~ you were placed in my class - the worst class in the entire school - because you were being a bad little boy to your teachers.” He stumbled backward a little. 

“Karma-kun did you like that sorry excuse for a girl?” you asked. He hesitated to answer. Laughter escaped your lips again. “Oh, you did love that bitch!” 

“Love, there’s no better person for you in the world but me,” you said and grabbed him by the shoulders with your bloody hands. You breathed into his ear and he tensed

“Don’t test my affections for you, Love. I will not hesitate to kill every girl who lays an eye on you,” 

Sorry I’ve been playing a lot of Yandere Simulator.