#of what? staying alive and killing myself later? maybe now i can still die with a shread of dignity

[quinnyundertow]

Picking up the Pieces

Chapter 2

What we Lost

Choso x Reader

Chapter 1

THERE WILL BE MANGA SPOILERS BELOW

Summary: The fight with Sukuna has finally ended. Before he’s wisked off the battlefield the boy named Yuji begs you to try and save what’s left of his older brother.

TW Extreme disabilities, hospital setting, amputation.

AN: Writing this fic so far has been incredibly cathartic. I’ve found writing to be incredibly difficult since my back surgery. At first I thought it was the heavy duty pain killers and meds fogging my mind. Maybe it was. Now I’m just depressed. In the blink of an eye I went from no disability to unable to drive and using a walker to get around. Even then the pain is extreme. Thankfully my body is not as wounded as Choso’s is in this. Choso will not regain his limbs or full function in this story. But that doesn’t mean he can’t have a happy ending. Choso will have disabilities moving forward but that doesn’t mean he’s something broken that needs to be fixed. He still has value despite his physical limitations. I’m trying to convince myself that I do too.

Chapter 2

What we lost

All he could feel was pain. He had never experienced a sensation like this before. Wave upon wave of raw agony rolled over him. There’s this screeching mechanical noise blaring near him. Muffled voices are discussing something but it’s like all the sounds are under water. He’s trying to focus his blood manipulation ability to assess the damage to himself but something is terribly wrong. It’s like trying to grasp threads of information in a typhoon. The capabilities he used to summon with barely a thought before are slipping through his fingers. He can’t tell the extent of the damage Sukuna left but he knows this is a very bad sign. The pain has him gritting his teeth and straining his exhausted muscles.

Is this how his brothers felt before they died? Kechizu and Eso? Hell, even Yuji when he had practically killed him in that bathroom in Shibuya. Yuji. Had he been able to save Yuji? He thinks he did, hopes with every fiber of his being he did. If he failed, he hopes to die sooner rather than later. He tries to open his eyes but they’re too heavy. A racking wet cough bubbles out of his mouth to form the words to ask the only thing that matters, “Yuji?”

Someone is responding but he can’t make out the words. A small soft hand takes his own. It’s not Yuji. It reassures some part of him all the same. It feels like a life preserver has been thrown into the roiling ocean around him. Sudden relief from pain.

Time passes in a state between waking and dreams. He can tell when Yuji visits. His hand is large and calloused on his own. Yuji’s distressed. He knows he’s the reason and he hates it. Blood pressure rising as he’s struggling to open his eyes. Hands are on his shoulders as he seizes violently. Those small delicate hands are on one side and Yuji’s on the other. That familiar flow of pain relief pulls him under.

~~

Yuji Itadori has been through so much at this point yet he’s still smiling. It’s an exhausted, stressed out smile but a smile all the same. You feel cripplingly guilty. You may have kept Choso alive but the state he’s in is barely human. Er, curse. An existence at all.

“I can’t thank you enough for watching over him.” Yuji’s voice is sincere as he bows his head. You hate that he’s thanking you. Yuji has been at the hospital on campus more than he’s been home. Everyone he loves, still alive, is here in some capacity after all. Megumi Fushiguro and Nobara Kugisaki have their own rooms but they tend to gravitate towards one another and stay in Megumi’s room. Much to Megumi’s pretend chagrin.

Your voice is heavy with exhaustion, “It’s the least I can do.” You haven’t left the hospital in the week since Sukuna was destroyed. Neither has Shoko nor Nitta. There are so many injured people. Every few hours someone codes. Heart stopping, lungs failing. You three manage to bring them back but it’s taking everything you have. You’ve never felt so helpless. You know Shoko and Nitta feel it too. When your eyes meet each other in the hall as you pass. Grim expressions rather than greetings.

Yuji scratches the back of his neck; a gesture you’ve come to learn means he’s not sure what else to do with them. “Please don’t diminish what you’re doing.” He pauses to look back in the room where Choso is sleeping fitfully. “He’s calmer when you're close.”

You give a tired chuckle, “I’m a walking painkiller. Can you blame him?”

Yuji tilts his head as if considering your words. He looks like he wants to say more but words fail him. “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to go check on Fushiguro.”

You nod, “Of course.” Yuji’s low bow before he leaves seems excessive. This is the boy who saved all of Japan after all. You sigh. Yuji doesn’t see the situation the same way. He sees it as him failing to protect all of Japan. You duck behind the curtain pulled around Choso’s bedside and sink into the chair beside him.

Choso looks like he was chewed up and spit out again by a meat grinder. Maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration; but not by much.

You had managed to nap for about an hour the ate some food Yuji had brought up alongside fresh flowers for the room. That was enough to give yourself a little more cursed energy to expend. You are trying to improve his quality of life while keeping him drugged up so he’s not in excruciating pain. Even with all your advanced pain relieving jutsus he moans for hours on end. Throat so raw he coughs up blood.

You place your fingers right behind his ears near his jaw. His right eardrum is just about healed. He should be able to hear something at least. The left ear is irreparable. Well technically it’s not the ear. Shoko said it’s the nerves from the brain to his ear that were destroyed. He has a gnarly scar on the back of his head. His dark locks will hide it in time. That’s probably the least of his worries.

You pick up his medical chart and jot down some notes. There’s a human figure at the bottom of the page. The figure shows front and back with notes on all injuries. You had to start numbering the locations because it was too much to write in the area provided.

“Left cranium injury, loss of hearing and sight to left eye. Severe burns to the inside of the throat and lungs from breathing in super heated air. Six broken ribs, right lung punctured, arms with severe burns from the elbow down. Right hand missing pinky and index finger. Left hand and forearm required amputation.” You can’t read anymore. Needless to say nothing survived below the knees.

When he’s up moaning in pain all night you wish you never would have tried to help him. He probably would beg you to let him die if he could manage it.

You stroke the right side of his forehead gently. He remarkably hasn’t had a fever today. He’s gradually improving. Shoko says he’s out of the woods now. He won’t die but he can’t regrow any of the pieces missing either.

Tracing his brow you hope the light sensation brings the tiniest bit of comfort. You’re terrified he’ll hate you when he wakes up and registers his condition. The only thing proving he’s aware of anything is he cries out for Yuji intermittently only to stop when Yuji or you hold his hand. What’s left of it. You hesitated at first to put any pressure on his hand but when you finally did his three undamaged fingers wrapped around your own. He didn’t let go until Yuji took your place.

His fingers curl comfortably around yours now. The sharing of warmth between you both seems to help you both relax. His blood pressure goes down to a healthier level and you can finally manage to get some much needed sleep. You don’t even realize when you doze off. Something feels wrong when you wake up. The hospital room is dark except for the green glow of the machine running his intravenous and keeping his pulse and oxygen rates tracked. Disentangling his finger from yours, you stand, examining the numbers on it to be sure there isn’t anything wildly out of the ranges he’s been in. “It doesn’t look bad. All things considered.” You’ve been talking to him since the moment you found him in the rubble. It comes naturally now. You don’t expect a response.

The relationship you have is one sided. You and Choso had never officially met before the fight against Sukuna. You had seen him in passing. Especially in the months leading up to the climactic battle of good vs evil. He was referred to as the curse protecting Sukuna’s former vessel by those who didn’t care for him and Itadori’s older brother by those who did. You hadn’t formed an opinion either way at the time.

You change the bag of urine collected and make sure his catheter doesn’t have any kinks in the line. Finding nothing else to occupy yourself with you slide back into the chair you had been seated in. “I think I’m starting to lose it.” You’re not sure what woke you up but you doubt you could fall back asleep anytime soon. You place your hand under his again and his fingers wrap back around your own.

You adjust pulling your legs up onto your chair, your thumb lightly rubbing the back of his hand in what you hope is comforting circles. That uncomfortable feeling falls over you again. It’s like you're being watched. You jerk awake, your eyes quickly scan up his face only to lock on the dark brown eye watching you. You gasp in surprise and shock. He looks cognizant, his pupils are almost back to normal size. Your mouth opens and shuts a few times in shock, “I-I gotta tell Yuji.”

You go to reach for your phone but your attention goes back to him when he tries to sit up and speak. Eyes widening, you're shaking your head. You let go of the hand that is holding his to urge him to not move; but his grasp on you is surprisingly strong. It doesn’t hurt at all but it’s definitely firm. “Choso, please don’t try to get up yet. You’ll tear your stitches open.”

He must be able to hear your plea because he pauses and rests back into the pillows laying about him. His eyes are scanning his surroundings briefly. They pause on the wall clock only to wander until they rest on your face. “It’s 3:20 AM.” You hear yourself stupidly explain what he clearly just saw. “..but you know that because you read the clock. Sorry.”

He looks confused as to why you're apologizing. You flush in embarrassment before picking up your phone again. “Yuji is going to be so happy you're aware now.”

His fingers squeeze your own briefly to get your attention. You pause to glance up at him in surprise. His voice is deep and scratchy sounding but it’s there. “Don’t.”

You blink in confusion several times. All Choso has done is ask for Yuji the whole time he’s sick and now he doesn’t want to see him? Clarity hits you a moment later, “You don’t want to wake him up?”

The corner of his lip curls slightly in the smallest smile. His fingers flexing once around yours in what your guessing is approval. You can’t help but smile back, your eyes burning with relief that his mind seems intact. “How about I text him as a compromise?”

His response is so light it’s barely a flutter of his fingers. His head is leaning back into his pillow. The eye he doesn’t have covered with bandages sleepily blinks at you. His eye is starting to look unfocused as it drifts shut. Each time it closes it’s a little longer than the last. He’s still holding your hand. You text with one hand to Yuji telling him the good news but not to rush over that Choso is going back to sleep. When you finish the message you tuck the phone into your pants pocket. Now free your spare hand wanders to his brow again. Still cool to the touch. You caress his forehead lightly stroking his hair back. You hope you aren’t overstepping your boundaries by doing so. Thankfully, you're reassured when he gives a long breath out and his brow relaxes as he fully falls asleep.

Chapter 3

AN

I really enjoyed these fics with themes of loss and surviving with a caregiver reader. Please consider checking them out.

@umemiyan Postmortem/Postpartum

Buttholesupreme “I’ll be seeing you”

[bridgyrose]

Cinder stroked the fire and glanced over at Ruby as she slept, unsure of how she even ended up in this position. Ever since she had stolen the maiden powers she had felt drawn to the girl in a way that she couldnt explain. A way that terrified her to no end. 

“Are you… still awake?” Ruby asked quietly as she rolled over. “You know you can sleep.” 

“And I will,” Cinder said quietly as she started to put the fire out. “Just not tired yet.” 

“Its the middle of the night.” 

“And someone has to keep watch.” 

Ruby let out a sigh and sat up. “We have alarms and traps set up around the camp. Please, get a little rest. I can watch you while you get a little sleep.” 

Cinder rolled her eyes as she kept them on the last of the embers of the campfire as she waited for it to go out. “And I will. Later.” 

“You could now.” 

“I need to keep watch over you.” 

“You sound like Ozpin,” Ruby muttered as she laid down again. “I can handle myself.” 

Cinder looked over at Ruby again once the last of the embers in the fire finally went out, feeling a familiar twinge in her heart from the bond between her and Ruby. “I have no doubt you can handle yourself, but that still doesnt stop me from worrying about you.” 

“Why would you? We barely know each other.” 

“Yes but…” Cinder let out her own soft sigh. Why did she care? It wasnt as if the powers forced her to care, nor would it really matter if Ruby were to die out here. It’d be just as Salem wanted. And yet… she couldnt seem to let the girl get hurt. Maybe it was how the powers bonded her to Ruby or maybe deep down she hadnt wanted any of this. Either way, she knew what she wanted right now. “I… I dont know why I do. I just know that I want you safe.” 

Ruby pulled her sleeping bag over her. “Yang put you up to this, didnt she?” 

“Yang?” 

“My sister. Though, if you’re asking about her, then it must have been Ozpin.” 

“No one sent me, I found you on my own,” Cinder lied. Another twinge of anger and hurt ran through Cinder from Ruby followed by the emptiness of despair and sadness. It was clear that Ruby was hiding something, but now didnt seem like the time to tell her that she worked for Salem. “Can you at least tell me why you’re out here alone?” 

“You’re following me, so I’m not alone,” Ruby answered gruffly. “Besides, why does it matter?” 

“Huntresses are supposed to work in teams, right?” 

“Why does that matter?” 

“I just dont understand why you’d want to do this alone.” 

Ruby slowly sat up, unable to look Cinder in the eye. “I… cant tell you everything, but I’ll tell you the same thing I did to them. I have to do this alone so no one else gets hurt. Now can we please both go to bed?” 

“Hurt by what, exactly?” Cinder asked curiously. 

“Monsters, bandits… killers… does it really matter? The less people around me the-” 

“The safer everyone else is?” Cinder interrupted quietly, the lingering emptiness from Ruby still coming through the bond. Her own eyes started to burn as flames slowly started to light up around them and fire started to dance around her finger tips. “What happens when that’s not enough and they get hurt anyway? Wouldnt you want to be there for them?” All but one flame sputtered away as she asked the question. “You cant help them if you’re not with them. The same goes for you. If something happens to you, what do you think they’ll do?” 

Ruby watched the flames dance around Cinder’s fingers, her voice becoming quieter as she spoke. “I… sorta expected them to forget me. Huntresses die all the time for doing something smaller than this and people forget them. Its part of being a huntress.” 

“And that line of thinking will get you killed.” Cinder closed her fist and snuffed out the flames. “I’m not going to pretend I know what’s going on between you and your team, but being alone out here and accepting your death is the best way to get killed. You want to protect everyone? Then you have to stay alive to do it. Grab whatever comes at you by the horns and throw them down.” 

“We can talk more about that in the morning. Along with who you are and why you have those powers.” 

Cinder nodded, her frown coming back as she felt an emptiness come from Ruby. It felt the same as when she was on the run all those years ago after she killed her mentor. But all she could do was finally crawl into her own sleeping back and close her eyes. 

She had her work cut out for her. 

[hannahbarberra162]

Ik the initial one-shot wasn't yandere, so ignore if this is annoying lol but the murder attempt might be a good point for those types of feelings to start developing. You're still a resource before anything else, but there's still a... shift afterward. Marco is much kinder to you than you expected him to be when you're terrified to start "donating" once more- sighing and rubbing your back while you blubber hysterically about being left alone in that room again. He's familiar with PTSD and it helps if you've been obedient up until this point. He'd made it clear you wouldn't be hurt if you obeyed, and you did, but you were nearly killed regardless. This isn't your fuck up. He's responsible. Considers moving the equipment to a different room, but assigning crewmates or nurses to stay with you in shifts is a much easier option. Thatch dotes on you too, if he's alive- you're getting treats, rules be damned.

It’s definitely not annoying! Yandere is one of my favorite tropes, I have to stop myself from adding it into most things I write. Even my nicer fluffier ideas make me think “hmmm but what if dark? What if kidnap???” Like for Struck Twice By Lightning (a lighter story I’m writing w/ Shanks x reader) I have an alternative yandere ending just because uh…it’s too much fun. Also, Thatch isn’t going to die, silly Nonnie. He never dies! Neither does Ace or Whitebeard or Izou or anyone else I love! Everyone is just on Laughtale, waiting for us to get there. 

ANYWAY, I love your idea Nonnie. 

~~~

You had begged Marco, truly begged him on hands and knees, to move the phlebotomy equipment to another room. Unfortunately, space was at a premium on the ship, even one as large as the Moby. The phlebotomy room had been built to unique specifications, there wasn’t anywhere else where the equipment could fit and had the right electrical connections needed to run the apheresis machine. He had a busy day ahead of him, there was a lot to do and plan after yesterday’s attack. But you were pale and shaking, afraid to go into the room, much less stay there for the six hours you needed to. Of course, he could just drag you in and sit you down, put the IV in your arm and leave. But you’d been compliant so far and he didn’t want to punish you. After all, this was his oversight in security, you hadn’t done anything wrong. Marco sighed and rubbed his temples. He’d tell Haruta to take over the meeting for now and ask Deuce to manage the infirmary. 

Crouching so he’d be at your eye level, Marco took your tear stained face in his hands. You had dark circles under your eyes, Marco knew you hadn’t slept the night before, which caused his own sleeplessness. He forced you to look at him, even though he was pretty sure you hated him in that moment. And maybe always. “Listen. I know you’re scared yoi. It’s understandable. But I can’t move the equipment, you have to be in this room. I can stay with you, if you want. Would you like that?” You averted your eyes from his face but nodded almost imperceptibly. He guessed you would have preferred Deuce, but Marco didn’t feel comfortable leaving you with anyone below Commander level. You were friendly with Thatch, maybe you’d want him to sit with you later. And Thatch had been baking up a storm for you since yesterday, baking treat after treat to try to find something you liked. Thatch wanted to get you to like his desserts, if he had to try every recipe on the Grand Line. The chef was always warm and pleasant company, getting people to relax in his presence was one of his gifts. Marco would allow the brief interruption in your strict diet if it helped you relax.

“We can take a break after one session if you’d like yoi.” You took a shuddering breath as Marco took your hand in his. Squeezing it gently, Marco walked you into the room. It had been cleaned of all the blood but the memories remained. You perched in the chair, pivoting your head every few seconds to check outside the window. Your hypervigilance was concerning even if it was justified. Marco didn’t want you to think they couldn’t keep you safe - they were a Yonko crew after all. There had been multiple fails yesterday that culminated in the assassin gaining access to you, but that wouldn’t make you feel better. Marco quickly turned on the aphoresis machine and prepared the equipment, watching you wince as the needle entered your arm. You were still squeamish, not wanting to see the needle insertion. He took a step back to check his work. Looking at you on the padded chair you were…small. Scared. Exhausted. Anxious. Marco didn’t like it, he needed to ensure his prized resource was healthy. “Would you like to hold hands? Would that make you feel better?” You nodded once again, still not speaking. Thinking back, Marco wasn’t sure you’d actually spoken since right after the attack. Marco took your clammy hand in his, noting the chewed nails and bloody cuticles. He’d heal those too, once it was time. He couldn’t let you out of your cage, but he could make it more comfortable.

[bevswashere]

Koi No Yokan

Chapter 31: Moving On

It’s cold here, inside the abandoned clock tower. Wood creaking beneath my feet, no sound besides the tick of the seconds going by. It means nothing, though. Time doesn’t pass here, my body doesn’t age. Only cold, empty.

The white glass panes behind the clock arms slowly drip with something crimson. I look more closely, only for the tower to rattle in a thunderous chime. The hour hand has reached twelve, and from its tip hangs Haruki’s body.

December 20134 years later.

I wake up briskly after that, eyes snapping open, a sweat broken out across my brow. My heart is beating rather quickly. I have to sit up, take a few slow breaths.

Shigeri stirs, reaches out. “Who was it this time?”

I lay back down into his arms, feel him breathe warmly into my side. “Haruki.” Another student who died last year. We’re used to these nightmares, though. Dead students, family members, friends, all coming back to haunt us in our sleep. The narrative varies, sometimes curses that have left a lasting impression kill them, other times they die at my own hand. At times they are simply there, loitering in my mind, watching me. When there are no nightmares, there’s only deep, dark sleep. I find myself craving that more and more these days.

“It’s still early,” Shigeri says. “Try to sleep some more.”

I close my eyes as he tells me, but my mind is already alive. I cannot forget Haruki’s face, or any of the others. I stay in my place, awake, until our alarm sounds.

“What do you have for today?” he asks, pulling the top of his uniform over his head.

“Not much.” I pull my shoes onto my feet, remembering that last night, I’d found a ring in Shigeri’s nightstand while looking for something else. “Yaga wanted to meet in an hour for a mission briefing. After that I might take the kids into the field.”

“And after that?”

“After that, nothing.”

I feel his arms wrap around my middle, his chin landing above my shoulder. “You’ll be free for dinner then?”

My stomach turns. “I should be.”

He kisses my cheek. “Good, we’ll have a date night.”

I can already picture it, Shigeri giving some sort of heartfelt speech, before getting on one knee in the middle of a restaurant. Everyone will start clapping, and I’ll want to sink into the floor where no one could find me.

“What’s with that sick look on your face?”

I straighten up in my seat. “Nothing, nothing.”

“As I was saying,” Yaga continues clicking through the mission file on his computer, “Expect to be overseas for some time, maybe two to three weeks. You guys will need to take your time flushing out the curse users.”

“‘You guys’?”

Yaga sighs. “The higher ups are still weary about your movements. They won’t say it outright, but they’ll want you monitored, especially considering the distance.”

“I’ve behaved myself for four years.”

“You discovered a sixth Sukuna finger last month,” Yaga counters. “You’re nearing half of the whole, that makes them uneasy. Tsuda-san has volunteered to accompany you.”

“Kei?!” I can’t contain my disbelief. “She hates me. Why would she volunteer to join me overseas?”

“Perhaps on the off chance that you make a wrong move, she could justify killing you.”

I scoff, arms folded above my chest. “As if.” I let my head fall back against the back of my chair, sighing largely up at the ceiling. “They should just sentence me already.”

“And give you an excuse to act out?”

“If I wanted to act out I would have done it by now. The only reason I’m laying low is—”

“They’ll entrust Satoru with your execution.”

Yaga’s words pose a statement, not a question. “Right. After all, killing Suguru is still technically his job.”

“Work carefully on this mission,” Yaga tells me. “Locate the curse users, carry out their sentences, quietly. Drawing any attention to yourself won’t be good for either of us.”

“So you keep saying.”

∞

“Right, inside here is a third grade—no, second grade? Third?” My thumb points to the doors behind me. I lean in a little closer. “Sounds like a second grade.”

“You can hear it?” Sachi, my most enthusiastic first year, raises his hand as he speaks.

“Everything has a frequency, even cursed energy, if you listen hard enough.”

Runa, the only girl this year, meets this fact with the same apathy she meets everything else with. “Why don’t they teach us that in the first place?”

“Well, there’s only two people I can think of who can do this.” They’re looking at one of them. “Besides, it isn’t just uncommon, it’s pretty annoying when you’re not trying to find a curse. Ah, that reminds me,” I reach into my pockets and pull out three blue whistles fixed to some string, “Exorcise it, but if you can’t—and only if you think you’re going to die—blow this.”

I toss one to each of them. Iwao observes it, unimpressed, “A whistle?”

“You guys will do better if I’m not watching, so blow that and I’ll come help if you need me to.”

“And if we die before we get the chance?” Runa asks.

My tone turns serious. “You’ll know right away if you’re outmatched. Unless you’re feeling particularly good today, don’t try to be a hero. Blow the whistle.”

They put on their faces of determination and enter the gymnasium without me. Silently, I wait, leaning against one of the walls, holding my breath as I do every time they leave my sight. Each of them are gifted, I don’t doubt that, but they’re young, eager to prove themself. I would know, considering I’m not that far off from their position.

Arakawa Iwao, the tall one, with the clean cut hair, and thickly framed glasses might be the most type A person I’ve ever met, second only to Kento-kun. His actions rely solely on logic, probabilities. Likewise his technique requires him to form physical barriers of exact measurements, once established these barriers can amplify the techniques of those inside. It’s not the most useful technique in terms of a one on one battle, which is why I immediately thought to keep him close to Yagami Runa, the daughter of a curse user Mei-san killed about six years ago. Since then, both the Tokyo and Kyoto schools have been keeping a close eye on her. Runa, and her father, possessed the ability to convert cursed energy into raw dark matter. It’s a unique skill, potent when encountered, but like any technique that creates physical matter, the energy expenditure outweighs the end results. Keeping Iwao close is the key to overcoming those limitations, letting her push the boundaries on her technique.

Fukase Sachi, with his helplessly innocent demeanor and mussed golden hair, is a shikigami user. What he lacks in strength, he makes up for in good attitude. With a bit of guidance, he’s been able to expand his shikigami collection to a cursed gazelle, eagle, and badger. My main focus, though, has been solidifying his hand to hand skills, making sure he doesn’t fall behind when the other two have each other to depend on.

Thirty minutes later, no whistles are blown, and they return bruised and battered. Iwao’s left arm is bleeding heavily, and Sachi is limping.

“All done?” My hand hovers over Iwao’s wound, turning ever so slightly as the bleeding stops.

“Oh, Reverse Cursed Technique?” Sachi says in wonderment.

“Barely.”

“Is there anything you can’t do?” Runa says, voice low, monotone. I can’t tell if it’s impress or resentment.

“Tons of stuff. For example, healing Iwao here.” We break into the open air again, my hand still carefully above Iwao-kun’s arm. Runa is helping Sachi walk. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll teach you guys everything I know before the school year is up. I promise it.”

∞

“How did they do today?” Shigeri’s load has been easy recently, seeing as he only has one student. Haruki’s classmate.

“Passed with flying colors.”

He shifts in his seat, and I hold my breath. “Are you sure? You seem jumpy.”

“Just a little tired,” I say, eating my dinner slowly, acutely aware of each bite taken. The slightest movement from Shigeri, the faintest twitch of his arm, puts me on alert. I would gain warning from the Forward Sight, but what good would it do? What would I say if he really does take the ring out?

But the dinner concludes, we split the bill, and I feel myself release this massive breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. The ring can be a situation for another night.

Arm in arm, we walk through the city, the sun slowly sinking beneath the skyline. “Were you ever going to bring up how you’ll be leaving tomorrow?”

“To be honest, I forgot.” Things slip my mind easily these days, fade into the background of problems that aren’t my own. “Kei is coming with me.”

“Really?” he says in pleasant surprise, “I haven’t seen her in forever.”

Lucky you, I think to myself. “I’ll be gone for a while, if you could watch over everyone for me.”

“Anything you need.” He stops suddenly, and lets go of my arm, dipping his hands down into his jacket pockets. I feel my heart beat into the soles of my feet. “Kaede, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

But the ringer of my phone is on, and begins chiming at a wonderfully loud volume. I don’t ask Shigeri if I can take the call, and answer immediately.

“Kaedeee.” His whining never changes. “Come over. It’s important.”

“Are you dying?”

He scoffs largely. “As if.”

“Then, what could be so important?”

“Come over and you’ll see.”

I look at Shigeri, see him slowly remove his hands from his pockets. Why am I like this?” I ask myself. Why must I ruin a perfectly good thing? Shigeri is kind and affectionate. I feel safe with him, loved. The sensible thing would be to take the ring from his pocket and get on a knee myself, profess how unworthy I am of his goodness, yet I’m deliberately stalling the inevitable. “Okay, I’ll be there.”

“Gojo?” Shigeri says.

“Yes.”

He makes the same expression every time he hears his name, a halfhearted smile paired with a slow nod. But not once has he ever denied me of speaking with Satoru, or seeing him. Not a single complaint or question of what we do when alone. Trust of an incredibly dangerous degree. “Go ahead. I’ll see you once you’re back.”

It’s because of that blatant trust that I bring up, “Didn’t you have something you wanted to say?”

“It can wait.”

∞

Satoru’s apartment was on the umpteenth floor of a newly built complex. The air still smelled of paint and inside the lobby was a doorman who insisted on operating the elevator for you. I imagine he held his own twisted notions about Satoru and I, seeing as he’d lead me up to floor sixteen about twice a month, and watch me leave within the same night.

He opens the door before I can knock, “What took you so long?”

“Not all of us can teleport across the city.” He pulls me into the place, everything a cold gray color, the walls uncomfortably bare. You would hardly think anyone lived here. “What is it? What was so important?”

He hums in confusion, meaning he’d already forgotten the claims he’d made on the phone. “Oh, well, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.” I’m ushered towards the couch, sat down on the firm and leather surface. “Tell me about things.”

It’s always the same. Calling when he pleases, engaging me in random tasks, listening to the nonsense of my daily life, and then he’s sated and I leave. Nothing I talk about is new either, curses, training, the higher ups getting on my nerves, and most of all my students. I brag of their achievements, no matter how they pale in comparison to his own. Satoru listens attentively, mentioning ideas for how I could better train everyone, his own upset comments on the higher ups. I remember when I confessed that Haruki died, he hugged me. It was the only time we’d had contact like that in years. “All of them will be great,” I say.

“You say that every year.”

“And I mean it every time.”

Satoru laughs at me, then softens. “You seem so happy when you talk about them.”

“They do make me happy.” I tell him in earnest, “I would give my life for them to not go through the things we did.”

“Those things made us strong.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” I say. “Lots of people can teach them to be strong, but I want them to see that this morally gray way of running things can be changed.”

“Changed into what?”

“I don’t know yet. But I realized it some time after seeing you with Megumi. It’s not about us anymore. You and I could kill everyone and take over the world, but the world won’t follow us. At least if we teach them, they’ll know the difference between right and wrong well enough that it’ll never come to that.”

Satoru yawns dramatically, stretching his arms out at his sides. “Sounds like a lot of work teaching a ton of brats.”

“Well, I guess it’s not for everyone.” But I know him, and I know that what he’ll never admit is that he loves people, brats and all. He probably loves them far more than me, feels it’s some kind of privilege to be surrounded by them, but he’s cut himself off from the world. Even from me. We’re all shadows to him now, chasing from behind, fading in the darkness. “Have you been seeing anyone else?”

Casually he says, “I haven’t been with anyone else since we broke up.”

“I meant friends.”

“Oh,” he looks at me with unease. “Only you, I guess. Shoko’s busy with school, and Nanami is gone.”

“I don’t want you to be alone too much.”

Satoru’s gaze pierces into me, even from behind the glasses. I notice then that he’s replaced his old ones, exchanged them for a slimmer, rectangular frame. “I don’t feel lonely.”

I felt content knowing that I still held some vestige of necessity for Satoru, that I could relieve him of the hard life he’s meant to lead. Then I realized it’s wrong to feel that way, to want to be necessary for him. As if he can hear my silent wanting, he leans in rapidly. We kiss for the first time in I’m not sure how long, and I immediately pull away. “I should go.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset.” I think to reach out, but refrain knowing the flame his touch would incite. “I have to catch a flight tomorrow morning. I want to say bye to my students before I go.”

When I stand up he quickly follows. “I don’t want you to stop seeing me because of this.”

“I’ll see you whenever you want, Satoru, don’t worry.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

∞

Guilt is the sole thing I feel as I return to campus. The sting of Satoru’s lips on mine lingers and incites a kind of irreparable passion I fight hard to ignore. Love like that, like the one we had, doesn’t ever disappear. It only quiets when you’re distracted, and roars at the simplest touch, a kiss. I’ll never experience a love like that again in my life, and maybe I’m not supposed to. Maybe I’m supposed to choose a comfortable love, one that doesn’t break apart everything I build up. I countered my guilt with sudden determination, When Shigeri takes out the ring, I’ll say yes.

Her shadowy figure enters my peripheral, “Can’t sleep?”

Runa’s already in a deep purple nightgown, her skin like a ghost’s in the moonlight. “I don’t usually sleep very much.”

She aligns herself with my stride. I notice she’s barefoot. “Why not?”

“Too many nightmares.”

“About curses?”

“About myself,” she says darkly.

“I understand.”

“What could you possibly understand about it?”

We come to a stop. She’s only half my size, frail in this light, eyes large. A sadness I hadn’t felt previously arises when I realize how devastatingly young she looks. “I’ve been in your position before.”

“Knowing you’re supposed to be stronger and still failing all the time?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Her gaze drifts to the ground. She’s angry. “You’re excessively strong. Both you and Gojo Satoru.”

Runa mentioning his name frightens me, like she knows the bad things I’ve done, the hurtful things I’m thinking. She’s waving it all in front of me. “I’ve failed a lot of people,” I tell her, “Gojo Satoru most of all.”

“You failed Gojo Satoru?”

“We were supposed to be the strongest together.” I don’t give Runa time to dissect the statement. In fact, I selfishly turn away and head towards the staff building. “You should know happens to the boys isn't your fault. Goodnight, Runa.”

I can’t linger on strength or Gojo Satoru any longer. It’ll ruin me, more than I’ve already been ruined. Shigeri is waiting for me in our room, I tell him I know about the ring, I tell him to let me wear it. 

**if you didn't notice the little easter egg, her students i.e. the three in the picture are the kids Nanami saved in JJK 0 :))

[kitwilsonsass]

I think the thing that's fucking with my brain the most is the separation of fact and fiction because it's like... we spent years being told that Bray was this unkillable character that would always come back no matter what, and now it's just like...I have to remind myself that in reality he was just a normal guy, it's weird.

It's..... yeah.

Okay - I'm gonna get real wordy and wax poetically and I'm so sorry I'm incapable of just talking and crying like a normal person.

It's like a big old layered burrito of denial on all fronts, right?

Because on the surface, we have a guy who was so young, and that seems so hard to get past in itself. We also have the fact that he was prone to injury at points and disappearing for... months at a time. He had been released and came back, what, a year later? In the meantime there were always a billion headlines with his name, speculating the worst, and it never had any accuracy or mattered. We were always *looking forward* to him returning and he always inevitably did because he had half his career ahead of him still and it always seemed like the best was to come.

And we have all these stories of what a beautiful person he was, a side we roughly knew of but never got to really experience ourselves as an audience.

But the person we saw was, as you said, this unkillable character. Literally unkillable. He told us from day one he could never die and would persist 5000 years from now when *we* were all gone. Because he was this personification of all the darkest bits of humanity and American society come to force us to face our sins. We watched him, silly as it was, get burned alive and come back a shambling heap of melting flesh and be completely restored. He was forever, he was a god, you could always find him and you could never, ever kill it.

And like, as fans, we kindle that kid in us that wants to believe in superheros and villains and we grow over the years with them. We go to events, and we sing his songs, and we thrust ourselves into that role ourselves of characters in a way. Like we were always *his*. Even if you didn't love him, you played into that for his entrance at the very least because it was such an undeniable experience. He talked and you, and every babyface, listened - whether you wanted to or not.

I'll never forget that one match on Raw, still early on, when the whole crowd was first singing "He's got the whole world in his hands" and just swaying, and then turning around and chanting "Bray is gonna kill you." Like, I remember Big E was in that match, and I'm pretty sure he was on the receiving end of that chant. He was over. He was beloved. And the whole crowd was singing hymns and calling for his demise for this literal cult leader that would speak in tongues and Exorcist walk across the ring, holding his heart and smiling with some masked sinister joy at it.

It's really really hard to reconcile he's not actually some biblical force of nature looming over everything and everyone even though we know better. And like, that fan in me that's that eternal kid in a way, is just stomping my feet screaming "but he CAN'T die!"

The end of Smackdown did, and still is, really fucking me up because I kept waiting for the lantern to go out. And like, I couldn't decide if I wanted that. Because on one hand, there's a symbolism there, and a kind of sad beauty, in the light going out. He was with us, and he's gone now, and he can rest (ahahaha I'm going to start crying again). The light fades. But ultimately I'm so glad it didn't go out because A.) I don't think I could've fucking handled it and was already bawling, and B.) It shouldn't go out. Or fade. His spirit of everything he brought to that world should stay with us and with every single performer who goes out there every night and throws their hearts into playing these characters.

And like... maybe, even though it's so hard now, maybe eventually there's comfort to be found in the idea that even though the vessel is gone - *He* will, somehow, always be there haunting us. Because "I have a thousand faces and a million names." We might not see him, but we can choose to believe every time a hero is forced to face their fears that he's there behind it - silently whispering into our ears, willing us on to indulge in every second of it.

[embercottage]

In The Void

Sneak Peek Into Chapter 1, Isabella's POV. Dark Content A Head.

February 8th 2045, 8:45 am.

The weather was cold as usual. Clouds covering the sky. It was quite besides some growling in the distance. I knew I’d probably have to go kill it later but I don’t want to right now. I want to enjoy the 5 minutes of peace before I go out in the horror story that is the world right now. My eyes dully stared up at the ceiling of the rotting house. Our ‘safe house’ is what Emerald calls it. It’s not very safe if someone has to defend the door 24/7 in my opinion. It’s crowded here when everyone is in. It was nice to be alone. No one is bugging me to help them. Clean their wounds. I don’t mind helping them but sometimes I just need alone time. As much as I can get. No one knows we exist. Everyone thinks we’re dead. I can’t blame them, I’d think we’d be dead too. I’m shocked we’ve lived this long. We’re all shocked. We shouldn’t be alive, we should be one of those things or dead. We’ve lost everyone we’ve ever loved. We watched them turn into monsters. Flesh tearing monsters. We have no connection to the outside world, only this small area where we are. How could we escape? A boat would be our best option but we have no idea where we would even get one. We can’t go anywhere near the ocean or near the docks. It’s the monsters ‘safe place’. We can’t risk going there, we barely survive when they come here. We have weapons for Christ's sake yet we are dying off one by one. I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t live with myself anymore, I’ve let people-

“Bella?” Ella’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I stared at her. Her raggy blonde hair. Her blue eyes are still filled with innocence. If only she knew what was out there.

“Yes El?” I respond back trying my best to look somewhat happy for her. I didn’t want her to feel bad. I know it’s wrong to hide the truth from her but she’s 8, she doesn’t deserve to live in a world like this. She doesn’t deserve to have her childhood stripped from her in this twisted game of survival. She doesn’t deserve to live in a world were it’s kill or get killed.

“Do you think Beck will ever come back?” She asks. Of course I didn’t. She left 1 month ago. She’s either dead or one of the monsters. She went to get supplies. She shouldn’t have gone alone but she was to goddamn studdorn to let us go with her. Atleast one of us. We knew she didn’t have the skills to fight off even one of those things. She told us we were selfish for thinking she needed our help. Now look where that has gotten her.

“Maybe hun” I respond after a couple of minutes. Ella smiled at me. So innocent. So.. naive. She shouldn’t stay naive. I need to tell her. I shouldn’t shelter her from this nightmare. She needs to know the truth. You can't blame me for wanting to shelter her. I'm her older sister, her mother in a way. I want, need, to protect her. I’d die before I let her turn into one of those monsters. I can't fail her. I made a promise to my father on his deathbed and I refuse to break it. Ella walked out of the cabin door and started talking to Nali. I sighed and laid my head back down on the pillow. I wish I didn't live in this world. I, Ella, and my love could be happy together. Somewhere that wasn't here….

Tag List: @breakmyh3art. Please let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list either in my asks, comments, or DMs.

[cycloptics]

This is basically a diary entry that gets dark but maybe it’s onto something? I needed it okay

Basically I’m just talking about art and being autistic and quitting my job after hitting burnout

And also some personal traumatic shit I guess

Please don’t feel inclined to read this if you don’t want to I think I just needed to put out my real fucking feelings into the world ya know?

Something really crazy has happened since I hit burnout.

I spent forever hating every piece of art I did, whether it was painting, drawing, or nail art. I’ve hated all of it, never thought I was good enough. I still don’t, of course, but I do atleast feel like I see potential during the process.

But now, since I’ve got the support of people who love my work, or love me, I’m able to look at it again (after a break of hyperfocus) and I can say “okay.. wow, that’s pretty good. I like that.” And that’s fucking HUGE! But what’s even crazier is I looked back and old work I did, work that sat in my sketchbooks abandoned forever, and I am like holy shit. I did that. And I love that.

I painted this in 2019-2020, I’m not even sure when, but I remember being in my apartment, I remember this being one of those pieces where I was desperate to make art. I desperately looked for ways to make a living doing art, just so I’d be able to paint. I bought a Wacom pen and a laptop, I was determined to learn digital art.. and I hated it. Then I bought an iPad and Apple Pencil, still didn’t love digital art. Then someone said “you should do nails” and I thought it was perfect. Then I went to school and did that. Worked my ass off. Went to the best salon in my area and worked there, killing myself and burning myself out in the process, trying to be perfect.

**TW: death, PTSD, loss of a pet, loss of a parent, hospitals**

Then my cat got sick, and even though I syringe fed him prescription food and cat pedialyte, gave him meds, and tried everything, he died.

Then a week later my dad tore his Achilles and ended up in the hospital with 2 DVTs and a PE. He then fought for 2 months to stay alive for us. I watched my dad code and survive multiple times, spent Christmas in ICU with him on a bipap to breathe, watched him lose his fucking mind, praying to god, almost fighting god, seizing, shaking, crying, desperately kissing me and my brothers heads while not being able to say anything other than beg god. I tried everything I could to bring his mind back, because it was my dads biggest fuckin fear was losing his mind. I brought pictures and showed him.. the guilt I feel for going to work while my dad was in the fucking hospital. The calls I got. The way he begged me to break him out of there, and I will always regret not doing that. I’ll never forget it the faces my dad made, the sounds he made, when delirium took over and he was so scared, and looked nothing like himself. Covered head to toe in bruises and restrained to the bed, because they tried to put a Bipap on him when he was sleeping. I’ll never forget seeing how broken my dad was, a man who was so prideful and stubborn, and whose biggest nightmare came true when his youngest daughter had to help him use the bathroom. The way my dad never wanted to seem weak, and the way my stepmom humiliated him. The way she made him sound so pathetic to the doctors that they gave him too much oxygen constantly, because she said he couldn’t do anything without almost suffocating. The way she lied and said he was on 2 liters every night, because that’s how she got her oxygen. She was on 2 liters. My dad refused to use it. The way that him getting too much oxygen made his COPD worse. How that’s what ended up being the cause of death. Not the blood clots that I was so terrified of, that it was COPD. I’ll never forget New Year’s Day and me having full blown OCD had texted everyone in my family begging them not to do laundry because it would mean my dad would die, and finding out my stepmom did laundry because she isn’t superstitious.. then that day finding out my dad was never gonna make it out. I’ll never forget moving to comfort care, and trying to make sure my dad heard all his favorite songs as we all said goodbye to him, or the fact that when it came down to it, my dad was taken off of everything and still refused to die in front of his kids. That my brother made us leave. And he died soon after we left the room. I’ll never forget falling asleep and swearing I’d hear his voice. Crying to Al green in my car. Going fully nonverbal after he died. I thought I knew death because my mom died, but I was wrong. I didn’t know death was so fucking UGLY.

Probably the worst part of death is finding out that it’s so fucking gutwrenchingly ugly. it’s so rarely peaceful. The portrayals I saw of it or heard of it, those were coping mechanisms from grieving people just hiding the reality of it.

I also can’t forgive my stepmom for cremating my dad when he had a literal plot next to my mom, with a headstone my grandfather carved (family biz was monuments) or the fact that she told everyone he didn’t want a funeral.

My dad would never have deprived his kids of the opportunity to grieve him properly.

So I don’t have his ashes, we never did any service, and I’m still pretty fucking fucked up from it.

Then two weeks later one of my best friends died, she was the same age my mom was, with kids the same ages me and my brothers were when my mom died, and she died suddenly with no warning, just like my mom. Her parents called me to tell me. Her dad a week before had reached out to see how I was doing when my dad passed. The universe really is funny that way.

Then another friend died, liver failure. Fucking what? And I couldn’t go to that funeral because I had to work, and I had already taken off too much time for all the other deaths. Couldn’t be the sad employee with all the dead friends and family members apparently. And it gnawed at me that I let work keep me from being with my dad when he was dying, that I missed a funeral because of the pressure to be at work, that I was having breakdowns during nail appointments and only heard about how fucking slow I was.

So I quit my fuckin job. And I regret nothing.

Am I broke as fuck? YES. Have I figured out how to make money for real? Nope. Have I listed anything? Nope. But I will.

Because burnout really taught me that I know what my real passion is in life and what makes me happy, and it’s fucking paint. And art supplies. And doodles. And hyper focusing on something and picking it apart for hours and not having someone over my shoulder telling me I’m too slow, or it’s not good enough.

I’m still in burnout, but if I didn’t hit it, I’d never have allowed myself to heal. I’d never have let myself focus on my actual needs, because I never let them matter. Just had to be a machine that did perfect work to make money for others while I took enough to pay my bills.

And tbh, I’m fine with only getting by, as long as I am doing something I actually enjoy.

Anyway. This started about me realizing that I don’t absolutely suck at art, but I think I really just needed to let out all of these feelings without worrying about anyone else’s. I people pleased through grief. What a dumb thing to do. Fuck masking. Fuck it. I’m done.

[27twinsister]

If you die enough times you get to meet Kamen Rider Ghost

Fandoms: Sentika F8ABA6 Jisariz & Kamen Rider Ghost (Crossover)

(Also mentions Decade a little tiny bit because Tsukasa and Jisariz are played by the same actor and Decade has different universes and all that.)

A/N: This is the niche crossover I wrote the other night. AO3 is still down so I’m posting it here. I do want to post it on AO3. I might post it under a different title there, I just…titles are hard.

Hurt/Comfort, 668 words, Not Rated

Summary: Takeru is always aware of heroes who died, whether they get revived later or not. But in this case, the person he hears about isn’t a superhero who dies in battle, and he wants to make sure she’s okay.

Content warnings: Characters talk about death, dying, and being killed in canon-compliant ways. Nobody dies in the fic. Casual spoilers for both shows.

Takeru was always aware of heroes who died, Kamen Rider or not. Sometimes the deaths were permanent, other times they were temporary. Either way, Takeru noticed every time they died.

And thanks to Tsukasa, Takeru caught wind of deaths happening in a different world. The world seemed to have reincarnation, so it wasn’t a big deal, but there was one problem: it seemed to be the same person killing the same victim every time. An adult man and a teenage girl.

Takeru got Tsukasa to take him to this world.

In this world, Takeru was surprised to see someone who looked shockingly like Tsukasa about to kill a teenage girl, and he knew he had to intervene.

"Stop," Takeru transformed and stood between the girl and her killer.

"Who are you to stop me?"

"I’m Kamen Rider Ghost!"

Takeru hadn’t fought in a while, so while he wasn’t particularly strong (and was mortal), he was able to stall and let the teenage girl get away.

After the man disappeared, Takeru decided to look for the girl again and ended up finding her sitting on a beach.

Takeru demorphed and approached her.

"Hey. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah…" the girl nodded quietly.

"Uh, what’s your name? I’m Tenkuuji Takeru."

"I’m Ayuka."

"Ayuka…this is going to sound weird, but," Takeru paused. It was always hard to explain this out loud. "So, I’m Kamen Rider Ghost. That means a few years ago, I died. And ended up coming back to life. And then I died again- it’s a long story. But ever since then…"

"How did you die more than once?"

"Well, the first time I died I stayed dead for a few months before managing to revive myself. But even after that there have been times where, say, my heart stopped and I temporarily died- it’s complicated. Anyways, I’m alive now. But I have…more experience than average with being dead. And my friend told me that you…have also been dying a lot too," he said. He wasn’t sure how to word that, but Ayuka didn’t seem offended. "Is that true?"

"Yeah. I’ve been killed a lot," Ayuka said way too casually. "But I’m used to it."

Takeru wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

"Is that bad?" Ayuka asked after a moment.

"Kind of, yeah. Is there anything I can do…maybe stop that guy from killing you?"

"No. I kind of like that he’s the only one that kills me. He protects me from other people so that he can kill me himself. Is that bad?"

Takeru wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Like, yes, that was terrible. But if she was used to it, and even liked it…

"I think it is kinda bad. But I can’t make you change how you feel. Do you need a hug?"

Ayuka nodded, and Takeru gave her a hug.

Usually, when Takeru met other people in this situation, he asked how they died. Usually they were heroes and the answer was dying in battle. But in this situation, knowing Ayuka had been killed multiple times within a short period of time, Takeru didn’t ask. She probably wouldn’t want to talk about it.

"It hurts," Ayuka said. Her voice cracked and she hugged Takeru closer.

"Hm? What does?"

"Every time…usually he stabs me or chokes me. Does it ever hurt less?"

Takeru knew the answer to that question, and he felt a knot in his stomach as he answered.

"I wish it did. But even when I was a ghost, I could still get hurt in battles. I couldn’t die because I was already dead. But I don’t think the ability to feel pain ever really goes away."

(Unless the person was permanently dead, but he didn’t want to say that part out loud.)

Takeru quietly held Ayuka as she cried.

He wished he could do something to help her.

For now, all he could do was stay in this world and protect her.

[mythundermeme]

100 lyric starters

notes: feel free to tweak details to fit the muses. do not add to this list. other meme blogs, please don’t reblog. (content warning: sexual themes, violence, death, suicide)

"Tell me, does that sexy gown say what she's got in store for her man?"

"I thought you would always be there to hold."

"The longer i must wait for justice, I grow ever hungry in the cold."

"Take from them just what they took from me."

"It’s hard to see a future when your purpose is your past."

"Shoot to kill and live to last."

"If loneliness is prison, every touch is liberation."

"I know good deeds don’t guarantee a path to some salvation."

"I’ve reclaimed just what they took from me."

"What I'd give and what I'd trade for all your flickers, your flickers of the light."

"You're just a bunch of lies."

"Oh, I have run to the letters that you wrote me."

"Oh, help me sleep at night."

"The morning fog and waking sun have healing ways."

"Gave up our lives just to find that it was not enough."

"Hope has no place here."

"Maybe the end we tried to avoid is already here."

"Some evil will never ever die."

"Even if it's in broken speech, I want you to tell me your pain."

"Pretending that the pain's worn off doesn't make you an adult."

"You're so precious to me it almost brings me to tears."

"All I fear means nothing."

"My heart's a battleground."

"You know that you're my super star."

"No one else can take me this far."

"You're giving me too many things lately. You're all I need."

"Don't get me wrong, I love you. But does that mean I have to meet your father?"

"Wish I could prove I love you, but does that mean I have to walk on water?"

"Whatever lies beyond this morning is a little later on."

"That's right, I heard the story. Don't really like how it ends."

"Did you think all this time that I wouldn't find out about you?"

"I'm the loser of the game you didn't know you were playing."

"It used to feel like a fairy tale, now it seems we were just pretending."

"Let's just live day by day and not be conquered by our sorrows."

"Can we get back to a happy place? We've suffered so much pain and sorrow."

"People make a history by threading the threads of love into it."

"We're the same, you and me."

"Love's the choice we made."

"Death can't bind our endless story."

"Pain is your reward for being near me."

"I am no one's blessing, I'll just bring you harm."

"Brother, you're safe now."

"Don't try to make yourself remember, darling."

"When I'm better, we'll do everything."

"I gotta stop making promises I can't keep."

"But if I was gone tomorrow, won't the waves crash on?"

"I told you to forget me, but you stayed by my side."

"I quite enjoy the life you say I'm trapped in."

"Well it's intriguing, but to go would cost me greatly."

"Your clothes might be dirty and covered with blood but i’ll still have a hot meal here waiting."

"Your heart is a safe place for others to land."

"You have two hands made to raise others up, and you have two clear eyes to see others with love."

"I’ll always be holding your heart and your hand."

"Without regret, I’d offer up my life."

"I would fly into the sun if that would keep our dream alive ."

"I will fight for you, no matter how I am despised ."

"No sleep until I'm done with finding the answer."

"I've been living for tomorrows all my life."

"They say that I must learn to kill before I can feel safe."

"I'd rather kill myself than turn into their slave."

"Feel me, touch me, heal me."

"Pretty little flower, won't you sit back down and go play nice?"

"My, oh my, look at who ends up bigger this time."

"Keep talking, keep laughing. One day you'll see what happens."

"Bury your doubts under the ground."

"Know I'm all bite, no bark."

"I'll stay so deep inside your brain and take you somewhere far away."

"Is it really a surprise if I'm playing with your mind?"

"Never had a soul, so you ain't taking anything from me when you go."

"A man learns who is there for him when the glitter fades and the walls won't hold."

"What are you willing to lose?"

"You're out of time, make your move."

"Kiss your perfect day goodbye."

"I had one thing, and you've taken it from me."

"You sent me back to nothing."

"Your best stuff looks like my worst."

"You look like you could use some more."

"What’s higher than the top? That's me."

"Wanna leave this hell, take me out, please."

"I’ll show you what I’m made of, rise to the occasion."

"You know your own worth very wel."

"You're not suited for the rage of war."

"Gonna break rules and hearts in twos."

"Only took a minute for me to get what you had."

"Way that I look should be breakin' the law."

"You know that I love the sound of applause."

"Sorry not sorry for bein' the best."

"I wanna hide the truth, I wanna shelter you."

"Don't wanna let you down, but I am hell-bound."

"Your eyes, they shine so bright. I wanna save that light."

"I can't escape this now, unless you show me how."

"Why would you dare me to do it again?"

"Don't ever say it's over if I'm breathin'."

"They said I wouldn't make it out alive, they told me I would never see the rise."

"Why worship legends when you know that you can join 'em?"

"You stood me up, who do you think you are?"

"Now it hurts to meet your gaze."

"Nobody showed me how to return the love you give to me."

"I never wanted to ever bring you down."

"You touched my body once, it burns me still softly."

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

balloons on my wrists (let's play 'cut the rope' like Old Timer's sake)

when you tie down a balloon you just end up watching it lose its fillings, spill its guts into nothingness. is it really any worse to let it go into the sun and just die already? especially since it's drawn up like that.

sometimes i just run down the empty apartment hallways because i like how it feels in my sneakers. they're almost loose. the only beautiful women's shoes they had they didn't have in my size, so i got the first neutral men's shoes that'd fit me. i'm trans and i wish i could use public restrooms like that. the real answer is all gender neutral bathrooms and more precise sizing.

(when i cursed aloud about the women's shoe sizes and said i wanted to kill myself, an old man frowned at me in concern or maybe pity so i apologized. a lot of other people need to learn that lesson still.)

my shoes are gray. i have two pairs of gray shoes now because i realized i needed a pair i can't hang myself with.

sometimes i just get the urge.

so, i sprint down the hallways. i fly a little. pep isn't the only thing in my step. among other things, of course, i catch air. i am young (and sick) and sometimes i don't care if it'll hurt (10 seconds) later.

i don't fit in, but i like to stay in shape. haha. or at least keep the optical illusion of being in shape.

tomorrow i'll wake up and there will be another thing to worry about and another thing all better. i thank G-d for brief synapses. i curse G-d for brief synapses. nobody relaxes.

sometimes my bed just looks sexier to me. 'do i still got it?' asks my old sheets, the ones i've had for nearly 15 years, some of them older than even that.

and i shake my head and say, 'baby, we go through phases.

'yes.'

i've got carpal in my dominant hand but it's still not the one i jack off with. fuck my life / fuck my life.

every morning is the walk of shame when you're in love with yourself. i had to evolve to love myself since nobody was doing the job well enough. You know what They say about that: then do it Yourself. so i damn well did. and do. nobody's doing me like me.

a lot of the time i'm afraid nobody else will close out for the night quite like i do.

so, what? i've got fucking issues. tell me something i don't know. please. please? it's only rhetorical if you're not my Love.

i'm such a boy-next-door/across-the-continent. i look very 90s sitcom. minus the happy ending? i guess Our show got cancelled or something. fuck the ratings. MAKE ME A STAR. 'i'm Your Prince.'

i hate how big the USA is. can't You all be on my shelf? i can pick and choose like perfume. i need to reorganize my closet.

if You got one look at me, You'd fall to Your knees. i'm a real kick in the shins. Love at first Flight. Love at first Light. Our Teeth just have to get to Know Each Other.

fuck everybody who's ever called me foolish for waiting. how dare you question my Faith? would you try to fuck a nun, too, while you're at it?

i would rather burn alive than wilt in your fucking penthouse.

speaking of! i've got a MANSION ON THE COAST to BURN ALIVE INSIDE OF. murder y suicide o suicide pact? either way, what bliss.

[a-poets-diary]

There is something living inside my mirror.  It doesn't move.  At least I don't see it move if it does.  I never know what to do when it watches me, because sometimes it doesn't.  Sometimes... it looks like it's staring at something behind me.  Sometimes it stares through my soul.  Sometimes it's not there.  I don't know if I'm not looking hard enough or if it's hiding inside of me those days.  Some days I don't have the guts to get out of bed because I know I'll have to pass it.  Some days I wish I could sleep forever so I didn't have to make myself walk past it.  I don't think it means me any harm, but it scares me.  It sings in the nights, but every time I look its mouth isn't moving. It isn't moving.  I don't know why I'm so stuck on it not moving, it's not even in different places every morning.  It stays rooted and rotting to the left corner of my mirror, head clocked to once side.  It looks dead.  I wish it was dead, but I don't think it is.  I swear it isn't because it looks like me.  It looks like me.  I'm not exaggerating and I never have, not about this.  Its hair falls in rings around its face like mine does except, some of its hair is tattered and clinging to its skull.  It's eyes are drooping and darker than mine, but it's the same shape.  Its eyelashes cross and clump together like mine do.  Its cheekbones sit at the same height that mine do and its nose is the same shape.  Its throat flexes when mine does.  Its throat is slit.  That's a difference from me.  Its throat is red ringed and dripping blood down its nightgown.  Its lips are blue and turning white, and some of its teeth are punched out.  So it looks like me, but it's not.  I promise. It looks like it's been withering for centuries.  It scares me, when I think back to what my grandmother looked like at that age, what her mother looked like at that age, because they too look like me.  And I sometimes wonder if it's one of them who haunts my mirror.  But I con't think it is, they were too soft. The thing in my mirror is gaunt and pale and sharp.  It keeps watching me, its eyes move now.  Even as I sleep I know it watches me.  That's the only part of it that moves.  Its eyes.  And those eyes are always watching me.  I've asked if my Mama if she can see it.  She can't.  She thinks I'm going mad.  Maybe I am and I don't know it.  Does anyone know when they're going mad? The thing in my mirror still sings, and it's still terrible.  Its voice is a wailing and high-pitched scream.  Sometimes it doesn't even sing, sometimes it shrieks.  I think that if the thing in my mirror is dead, that is what it sounded like when it died.  I've asked my Daddy if he can hear it, but he can't.  I asked my brother, and my sister, and my cousins and my friends and none of them can see it.  They can't hear it.  I think the thing in my mirror is going to kill me.  I think it might have done so already.  I think the thing in my mirror is me.  Maybe not me now, but me later.  Me before.  Maybe it is me eternally.  The thing in my mirror still watches me but it's my friend now.  It still sings, and still screams.  It's still undead.  I don't think it was ever dead, but I've accepted that it was never alive.  I still think it's going to kill me, but it doesn't bother me anymore.  Because I was going to die anyways, right?  Who cares how.  I'd be happy to go by my friend in the mirror, because death by its unmoving hands will be familiar and welcomed.  Because I've danced to its screams now, I've sung along to its shrieks.  I've worn my tears down to dreaded streaks, and my smile as high as our cheeks.  We howl to the end of the world together now.  My friend in the mirror killed me.  And now we wail together forever, because my friend in the mirror has laced our lungs aside, with pretty red ribbon and string. My neck is ringed red now, and my teeth are half punched in. My hair falls round my face in waterfalls of dust. My lips are blue and turning white. And I will rot forever.

[coolstorysister]

lyric starters 22

I did my time and I want out!

Go dig your graves.

I'm done!

It has begun.

I'm not the only one.

This is nothing new.

The hate was all we had.

Who needs another mess?

We could start over.

Just look me in the eyes and say I'm wrong.

Now there's only emptiness...

I think we're done.

I tried to tell you.

Is this what you want?

I can feel death, can see it's beady eyes.

Life is cruel and unforgiving.

I wanna feel alive.

I'm caught up in a fantasy.

I swear I never wanna let them down.

People really wanna cut me out.

I've come too far to give in now.

It's a trap!

Yeah, I know that.

Maybe just ignore it.

It'll go away.

Everybody knows somebody with something to hide.

Grandma wouldn't hurt a fly.

She had a bad temper.

I was getting high in the bathroom.

Don't drink and drive.

Don't ask too many questions or you'll never get to sleep.

There's a hole inside you.

He took a while to die.

That dog bites my kid, I'll kill it!

Don't walk where you can't see your feet.

Don't ask questions.

This town won't get no better, will it?

It's the last thing you wanted.

I think I'm falling back in love with you.

How many times will I do this and you'll still believe?

Tell me, which side are you on?

Give me some tips to forget you.

Have I become one of your problems?

Could it be easy this once?

Did my love aid and abet you?

I'll ruin it all over.

I'll ruin it for you.

I'll ruin it all over and over, like I always do.

I'll be there.

Just know this too shall pass.

I got hit by a truck.

I got touched by God and it fucked me up.

The truth of it is I'm in love with you.

Take a look to the sky just before you die. It's the last time you will.

I can't get enough.

I like it rough.

I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all.

You're not the only one.

This life is filled with hurt.

Trust me and take my hand.

Anger and agony are better than misery.

Trust me, I've got a plan.

I'm here to save you.

I'm always here for you.

You'll thank me later.

I can see my life flashing before my eyes.

Did I fall asleep?

Is this all a dream?

I'm living a nightmare.

I will not die.

I will survive.

I'll wait here for you.

You are the sun.

You are the only one.

My heart is blue.

Do you know what it's like when you wish you were someone else?

I don't wanna feel like this tomorrow.

I don't wanna live like this today.

Make me feel better.

I wanna feel better.

You make me feel better.

It's time to let it go.

The world's got a funny way of turning around on you.

Don't sweat it.

Stop pretending!

You thought you got the best of me. You were wrong.

You were my family.

I can't seem to understand it.

You tried.

Are you happy with your role?

It's funny to me how you've turned into such a joke.

The world will never be what I expected.

Who would have guessed it?

It's never too late.

Now and again we try to just stay alive.

Maybe we'll turn it all around.

The world we knew won't come back.

The life we had won't be ours again.

I can't escape this hell.

I can't control myself.

So what if you can see the darkest side of me?

No one will ever change this animal I have become.

Somebody help me tame this animal!

I can't escape myself.

[thesugarhole]

you know, ive read it twice now, but im still not sure where the leap in logic in "coffee drops, burns servers, annet freaks out and exterminates most of the human race... engie drops bombs finishing it off?"

it would have made heaps more sense to direct the bombs where the skeleton of the structure is to permanently wipe her and whoever survived her fear starts life over. but no he dropped them all over the city.

of course that, if you did so you wouldnt have a story. bombing one, maybe 2 buildings is not equivalent to bombing a city after all (that i think is also an entire planet im not sure whats going on in romac geography)

the paragraphs explaining how she turned to use people as servers and adapters and whatnot and she was technically everywhere to justify it... well, it doesn't really

just like in irl the actual internet is kept in place by the same 4 guys in Antarctica or whatever, and if they stop we all stop, there had to be a central nervous system to that beast (no matter how much the author/the story wants to deny it this is fundamentally how technology works). the gdir hqs if you will. bomb just that and be done with it. traces of her living on in the survivors collective memory would turn her into an old god or something but thats it. all wireless towers and microwaves would shut off without the main, sooner or later (could be 1 month could be 890 years as the surviving stupid object AIs have shown but it WOULD end, all things do.)

maybe he wanted her to stay alive bc he stil loved her or for the fuck around find out parable (wanted her to suffer) idk

also i was gonna be unnecessarily mean about something else here but then my critical reading comprehension skills kicked in so theres some resolution: ij the past i always read engie as a bit of an hipocrite and was going down that road again because of his self pitying "i doomed the world I'm gonna kill it off" and then not placing himself directly under one of those nukes to die along with it. with guilt that heavy i can imagine an "honorable" thought to have is "im gonna kill myself to make up for it", and was surprised not once it crossed his monologue

but the thing is, right. humans want to survive. even the most suicidal ones. disclaimer speaking from experience but something that actually kickstarted my recovery out of the suicide hell hole was reading something like "suicidal people dont hate being alive, they hate the situation theyve found themselves in and ending it all together looks like the only viable solution". no matter how horrid he feels i can see engie having just about enough ego to realize this and deciding quick suicide isnt an option, slow suicide by rotting inside a bunker all alone is. if any of this makes sense i guess

edit: "a city thats also an entire planet not sure whats going on in romac geography" watch my previous confusion being hand waved again as oh its not earth its a hollowed out earth like and her core is deep within and only the nuclear/electric bombs all over could eradicate most of the core and most of people-terminals

raaaaauuuugh i want to pull my fucking hair out

[mental-health-advice]

Update

Manor suicide and overdose warning

I keep falling lower and lower, in a especially deep moment I looked up whether my current and previous anti depressants could kill me in overdose.

I think that was a bad idea as I now live with the knowledge that if I am in that severe low I could take them all at once fully aware of the effects

I still know I wont ever function in the real world, a conflict with my grandmother proved that today once again. So it got extremely tempting because, well, if I cant function I might as well avoid causing any more issues for my family long term yk . Plus for myself too.

If my grandparents die I might need to go back to my abuser and deal with her. The only thing that would prevent me there is not wanting one of my siblings to find my body. But if they weren't home and only our mother would be,,,

...

Is it bad or evil of me that if I die, be it sui, an accident or health/natural cause, I'd want my mother to be the one to find me? After everything she put me through and the amount of abuse i faced from here that she still won't acknowledge-

Ik I wouldnt be able to see her reaction, see the look on her face. But imagining it gives me some sort of closure and a part of me wishes for that to be reality. She never deserved to become a mother, she's an abuser just like hers was. So the knowledge I have full control over taking her oldest (me) away, this time forever, is extremely dangerous to me.

She claims to put her kids about all else, yet abused her kid.

I remember her threatening to kill me, me in a panic texting my friends as I genuinely thought I'd die that day. Months later it came up - she gaslight me over it, her ex who used to live with us backed her up even tho he was in the room.

I had to scroll back months of chat history to find it to know I didn't make it up.

God I desperately want her to actually fucking realize what she did wrong instead of playing victim.

My only reason to stay alive are 3 or 4 of my 6 siblings, a couple of friends who all live abroad and cant come help me. Idk what to do anymore -☆ (anon)

Hey there,

Doing research on your current and past anti-depressants wasn’t really the best idea but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t done it myself so I am sure others have too at one time or another so feel don’t be too hard on yourself.

Before you feel really low and really think about taking them all in a way to try and commit suicide, could you maybe separate the meds and put them in different hiding places. And so then when you feel those urges and really want to take them all, you actively have to try and find and get them all which may help you to get some clarity in your mind and really think if you want to go through with it or not.

Unfortunately, I, or anyone, really can’t stop you from taking your own life, but remember of those siblings you don’t want to hurt or your good friends who live abroad. Actually one thing I do with my friends who live abroad is sending letters back and forth with them in the mail or parcels of things (even if it’s something small), it can be so exciting to get something in the mail from someone from a whole different country so maybe this is something you could try if you haven’t already!

In regards to if you do die and  wanting for your Mum to find you, I don’t think that this makes you bad or evil. Whilst I do not know what abuse you may have endured by your Mum, I’m sure everyone at some stage has thought about this and who they would like to find them.

I think though that if your Mum was to find you that she would be in shock and very sad. No matter what kind of relationship (good or bad) you have had with someone, it’s never nice to find someone dead and not being able to do anything about it. It can be quite scary and really confronting and although your reasoning behind this may sound rational right now, I can guarantee that no one deserves to find someone who has died whether it was via suicide, an accident or other natural causes. I am not in any way tyring to make you feel bad or guilty about this and wanting your Mum to find your body, but it is something to think about and keep in mind.

In regards to not feeling as though you can function in the real world, aren’t you functioning somewhat already? I am not saying that it’s easy, but you have already come so far so perhaps instead of looking too far in the future you can instead just try to take things day by day? Just a thought.

I really hope that this has helped a bit and please do let us know if we can help to support you in any other way!

I’m thinking of you and hope that you are going OK!

Take care,

Lauren

[magnoliamyrrh]

.

[azazraelz]

Lucky Number Seven

Wooo first post! Anyways, I couldn’t find any fan fiction of Ghost x male reader that appealed to what I wanted and were long enough, so I’m making my own. Your name that your character goes by at first is Angel, you will find out why later in the story. This will be an ongoing fic so I’ll update as often as I can. This is an informational post as well as the start to the story. You join task force 141 at the beginning of the campaign. You are a special operations soldier from the marines, trained in hand to hand combat as a teen. This isn’t going to follow the story of the campaign though, rather some side missions and stories that aren’t in the game. People just call you Seven (that’s your code name). Every chapter will have a trigger warning pertaining to what shows, whether it be violence, cursing, anything along those lines. Darker topics will be in red. This is for male/masc readers only so please so she/her or she/theys interact with this. So anyways, on with the fic!!

TW: death, cursing, somewhat extreme(?) violence, suicide (not super detailed but still there)

Part 1

Always simple, stupid, too naive, that’s what they always said. My lack of street smarts always causes trouble for my adoptive family, yet they still love me. Though I don’t think this time they’re going to forgive my mistakes. I should have known to stay away from those men, the biggest gang in my small town of mostly Hispanic families, but I didn’t. I couldn’t tell! They were so kind, took me in and said they would protect me, for a cost. I said I couldn’t pay it and thanked them for the offer. They didn’t take it lightly.

The blood, there was so much blood. I never knew how much of it there was in his body. I didn’t realize how fast it flows, how hard it is to stop it once it starts to come out of places it shouldn’t. When he told me to come to his side, I didn’t know that would be where he says his last words. My brother, my favorite person, he died in my arms while telling ME everything is ok. I couldn’t do anything to stop it, the gunfire wouldn’t cease and I had no escape. I tried pulling him to safety before he passed, but was yanked away from him before I could start dragging him. The military. I screamed, cried, tried to pull away, anything to get back to my brothers body, I couldn’t just leave him there. Well they had other plans.

When I was finally safe, I couldn’t bring myself to return to my family. So I ran away. Spent my days hiding and keeping active, only traveling at night. Something changed in me that night, for the better. I became wiser, grew the fuck up and acted my age instead of the sheltered child I was. I turned to parties for entertainment and social time during the night, and eventually found an off the books job at the ripe age of 17. Then that’s when I met him, a marines recruiter. He told me to come to him when I’m 18 if I’m interested in joining, and that’s exactly what I did. My name is Angel, no longer is it y/n. I don my mask to hide my identity, and I put up my walls. Cliche? Maybe, but I refuse to let myself get close to anyone, because eventually they will die, and they will not be my problem.

“Angel…Soap, keep your head in the game, this is a capture or kill. We need Almagro alive for questioning but his gang will do anything for him, they will aim to kill. You have kill rights if need be, but avoid it if possible, now move.” Ghost’s commanding voice rips through the silence of the aircraft carrying the three men towards their destination, only stopping to let them out before taking off. The cover of night and the fog keep the aircraft out of sight, for now, but there’s no telling if that will be the case if they need air support. Angel follows behind Soap and Ghost, watching behind them through the thick fog to make sure no one sneaks up on them, only turning his attention away when his shoulder is grabbed by Soap.

“Be careful, these guys don’t mess around.” His thick accent making him slightly grin under his mask. Angel has been with task force 141 for about a month now and has gotten pretty close with Soap and Price, he even started getting to know Alejandro, bonding over their common knowledge of Spanish. The sound of the door creaking open pulls him away from his thoughts and he pulls his gun back up, being the first one to enter the building. It’s a warehouse but it feels like a maze with how much stuff it has in it.

“Take a look at this, drugs, guns, and money.” Angel points into a small room while whispering. He’s noticing everything is quiet, too quiet. That’s when he finds it. A room with four chairs in a circle facing each other, dripping with coagulated blood. The smell of iron is so strong it stings his eyes. He walks further into the dark room, his boots hitting against something soft on the floor, and when he looks down, his expression softens for only a moment. A body with a piece of paper on it. He looks back to see if Soap or Ghost are there before picking up the note.

“It’s all in Chinese, I don’t speak-“ A sharp pain in his spine causing Angel to let out a cry of pain before he’s yanked by his hair and tossed to the ground. He was kicked in the back by someone much stronger than he. He tries to shoot but the weapon is pulled out of his hands, luckily he took Ghost’s advice and carries multiple knives on him. The assailant gets on top of him, reaching for his throat, but Angel is faster. He grabs a knife and stabs it through the man’s hand before trying to shove him off, the man wailing in pain before walloping punch after punch onto Angel. He does his best to block them but a few connect with his face and ribs. An abrupt searing pain in his upper arm causes him to let out his own scream of pain which finally alerts his teammates. Ghost and Soap rush into the room, Ghost taking the man out with a M9 pistol before the two approach Angel who has sat up, holding his hand to the knife sticking out of his upper arm.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Let’s just check who that was and get out of here.” Angel says before yanking the knife out to the protests of his two teammates. Soap seems concerned but listens, checking out who the attacker was. Not Almagro. While Soap and Ghost discuss further plans, Angel wraps the wound up with a bandana he had in his pocket before standing up, stumbling. His vision fades out but he doesn’t collapse, he stays standing. Shaking it off, Angel walks with the two, scouring each room until they find who they were searching for, taking him into custody and escorting him back to the plane that brought them here. It’s still awfully quiet, but they aren’t going to complain if things are going right. Angel slowly trudges along, slowly falling behind the two. He’s lost a lot of blood already and is turning pale, but he continues on until they get back. Once they’re in the plane, he sits down and immediately loses consciousness, only rousing to the sound of the plane landing. Surprisingly, Ghost helps Angel up and brings him to the medic, but he doesn’t leave right away. Ghost stays in the doorway, watching, waiting, making sure everything goes right and only leaving when forcibly removed. Angel was too hopped up on painkillers to even notice the worried look in Ghosts eyes as he walked away.