#or just burn in eternal flames while being tortured

[bstroobery]

Well, now I’m absolutely pissed.

Just learned that our ex-abuser had told Blue🍓 (our host for those who don’t know and the one who suffered the most from the past abuse) that they shouldn’t trust their headmates.

Our ex-abuser had said not to trust our headmates. Said it was to take “system-responsibility.” Said it was because “no headmate should ever be fully trusted.”

To that ex-abuser, I say fuck you. Because we are all literally here to keep the system safe no matter what. Yes, persecutors go about it the wrong way, don’t get me wrong. But what the absolute fuck?

We are all literally here because of the trauma we have endured and because there was this little girl, sad and alone, who had no support system. So the brain made up its own. And that’s where everyone else in the system comes in.

Blue🍓 knows it’s ok the trust us, because we’re all here for them and each other. We’re the support for everyone else that we desperately needed growing up. We are the loving parents (no matter how hard our parents tried to be so, they sadly failed but we care for them anyway), we are the older siblings, the friends, the ones who never leave due to just naturally growing apart. We’re the ones that will always have the backs of our headmates because no one has ever had our backs. When it came to our past abusers, our friends always chose them over us because our past abusers are always more “traumatized” and more “broken” than us.

And to everyone who believes that shit about comparing trauma, fuck right off because trauma is trauma and you seriously should not compare trauma you mfs. Just because an abuser is traumatized does not mean they are excused from that abuse. Just because an abuse victim lashes out and pushes back at one point or another does not mean they weren’t abused.

So for fucks sake, I hope everyone who has blocked us because they know about the drama that happened with our ex-abuser and took our abuser’s side rots in hell no matter how nice they are because they are comparing trauma and ignoring the abuse another person inflicted on another because they deem them to be “more traumatized.”

We’ve moved on from the aftermath of the abuse, we’re getting better, we’re living life and absolutely having a blast about it (currently on vacation, got a tattoo, hot tub soaks, ocean waves, so many gluten-free restaurants with some bomb ass food). But I am still pissed that people are supporting our abuser in all of this. That’s the only thing pissing me off. That there are people who compare our traumas and decide that the abuser is the victim here.

Also a note: our abuser was younger than us. Yes that can happen. Abusers can be any age. If anyone thinks someone younger can’t abuse someone older, you are very much wrong. Abuse is abuse.

Ok. That’s my internet ramble over.

-🎳

[valliesworld]

You Mean Something

masterlist

simon “ghost” riley x reader, mentions of other task force 141 members

genre: angst

warnings; she/her pronouns, mature content, standard call of duty violence, cursing, kidnapping, mentions of self harm and suicide, mentions of torture, starvation

synopsis; after a failed mission that left you in the hands of the enemy, you finally realise how much Ghost cares for you

Distractions came easy to you, even if you tried your hardest to stay focused, to stay alive and awake, your mind still thought of him while you were being subjected to such torture. You think about his eyes a lot, how in his eyes his his humanity was shown, the person he really was. There were times it got lost, when he would that mask and military vest, when he would become the man the army demanded of him. But you saw it in his eyes that day in the sunshine, waiting for the cadets to finish training. You saw the humour that burned there too, the sort that stays for an eternity. There was something in his spirit that danced when he trains, like a fire giving just the right amount of warmth. You have seen it die too, the flames almost extinguished, when he was under the gun of guilt, shame and fear after a particularly hard mission. You know that isn't him, not the real version, the person you’ve grown to love with everything that is yourself. That's why you had to see his eyes before you go, to see the real him before you decided to give up and let death win. You wanted him to see you too, the girl who messes up, but would do anything in her power to keep him and the squad safe, to keep him emotionally healthy, no matter how deep his scars go. So when you think of him, you see a cheeky man who made cadets run laps til they turned green and hope to god he thinks of the vulnerable version of you, the one beneath the soldier.

In moments of silence, when your captors would leave you be, you would remembered the last conversation you had with your family. She had wished you well with tears in her eyes, making you promise you’d come back to her. Your father had been busting himself with house work, refusing to acknowledge that his youngest child was off to another suicide mission, just like he always did before you left. You had kissed your mother on the cheek as a goodbye, not promising a thing but granting her a smile, just in case that was the last time she’d ever see you again. Death wasn’t scary for you, you had accepted that you would die young, in your line of work death was not something that could be prevented, no matter how hard you might try. What did scare you though, was your nieces and nephews growing up without you, only seeing you in photos, it was your mother and father having to bury their youngest, it was your older brother and sister living without you. Death didn’t scare you, but the impact of yours on your family did.

You didn't know how long you had been held captive for, it could have been weeks, months, even years, at that point. What you did know was that the starvation they subjected you to as one last punishment had began to take it's toll on your body, your weight had dropped rapidly, leaving those metal cuffs loose around your wrists and ankles. At first it had been small strands of hair falling out from stress, then slowly it became more and more til you were left with thin strands to cover your head. Your body was always shivering, cold to touch, and you didn't know whether it was because you were forced to sleep on freezing concrete or if hypothermia was beginning. to settle within your bones.

Makarov had captured you for one thing, he had seen potential in you, wanted you on his side, and the only way he believed he could do that was if he broke you down into nothing, just to rebuild you as the soldier he always desired. He had watched from afar as you had taken down men three times your size, as you cleared bases by yourself, and how you lived up to your callsign. He knew you were young, younger than the other task force members, and with being young came being naive and impressionable, Makarov wanted to use those attributes and swing them to his favour.

In some of your exhausted delusions, you dreamt of your team, of your family. You had dreamt of your first Christmas with the task force, how you had sat in your room with the computer screen on, talking and listening to your family on the other line, wishing to be back home and apart of their celebrations, that was, until Gaz barged into your room and dragging you out for a Christmas surprise with your chosen family. You had dreamt of the day you accepted death, how you leant up against that brick wall, the rain pouring from above and mixing with your blood; red water sweeping the street. You had accepted your fate that afternoon, dying alone, until you knight in a shining skull mask whisked you off your feet and to survival. You dreamt of the day your nephew was born, how his tiny hands wrapped around your finger, chosing you to be his favourite person in that moment. You dreamt of many things, but one always kept returning. The delusion that Ghost would save you one last time.

"Fear is part of being human, Redback, it's the precursor to bravery. We need it, it wakes us up to what needs to be done. So feel it, own it, let it ignite your thoughts," Gaz's words echo in your mind constantly, they were one of the first words he ever spoke to you, and they resonated with her throughout her short years with the task force. They kept you alive at that point, they told you no matter how inhuman you felt, you were still alive, still breathing, still ready to fight.

Your cell was a hollow cube of concrete, one way in, no windows. In there you could have no idea how much time had passed or even if it was night or day. It was totally disorientating by design. Given enough time a person could forget their own name in there, and you were beginning to. The isolation was total and the stimulation was zero. No sound, no light, no furniture or cloth of any kind.

You could hear the sound of feet slamming against concrete, though your eyes never opened, refusing to see what was coming to torment you that time. They had stripped you of everything, they took your weapons, and your dignity. They had left you to rot in the cell in cotton underwear and a white undershirt, though both items were caked in dirt, grim, and stained with your own blood.

The sound of keys jingling had caught your attention, and when you opened your eyes you kept your gaze away from the intruder. Instead, you found the bruises and dried blood on your ankles far more interesting. The person had unlocked your hands first, fumbling with the keys as if he were nervous, as if something had gone wrong, and that had been his first mistake. When your hands were greeted freedom, you finally looked over at the man, your knife, the one they had stolen from you, sat perched on his hip. They had stolen your gear just to use it against you, and that fact gave you more motivation than anything previously, you wanted your things back.

Without a second of hesitation, your hands wrapped around the knife, plucking it from his tactical belt, your tactical belt, and plunged it into his thigh. He cried out in pain, something you never gave them the satisfaction of hearing, as he doubled over from the fiery sensation in his leg you pulled the knife out again and plunged it into his neck, blood that was not yours finally coating your body again. As you let out all your frustration on the man, pulling the knife out just to slam it back in over and over again, you began to register the sound of gunfire, the sound of Russian shouting, and the feeling of panic the base you were trapped within was beginning to feel.

Once you were positive the man below you was dead, you began stripping him as they had once stripped you. You took the keys from his cold, dead hands, and unlocked your feet from the shackles, your ankles screaming in relief. You then took his clothing, albeit they were far too large for you, they were better than what you had been forced to stay in for your time as a prisoner. Tightening the pants around your waist with your belt, you felt somewhat okay, you didn't feel helpless or hopeless, you felt determined, determined to get out of there yourself, since there would be no rescue party for you.

Gripping onto the rifle, one that wasn't yours originally, you began your escape. As you made your way through the base, leaving a trail of bodies behind you, you felt like yourself again, you felt like the soldier once were. You had reminded yourself of things that were facts; you were one of the youngest ever recorded female members to join the SAS, you were an accomplished soldier, a sergeant before your twenty first birthday, you were a force to be reckoned with; those facts kept you motivated throughout your escape, you were all those things, and more, and you could get yourself out of any situation.

Sticking to the shadows, you took down over twenty soldiers, cornering them til they were alone, and that tactic had worked well enough, til your luck ran out. The corner you took was one of bad judgement, over fifteen men resided there, all on high alert for your whereabouts, and with no shadows to conceal yourself, you had no other option but to simply turn back around, though when you did so, you found yourself face with thirty other men, ready to pounce. Weighing your options, you knew that to surrender was your only choice, if you wanted to stay alive. Letting the rifle hang from your shoulder, you held your hands up, defeat running thick through your veins.

They didn't make a move though, not one soldier stood out of line, all of them waiting for you to make the first move, to do something unpredictable, until he sauntered out of the crowd. Makarov's second in charge, Yuri, grinned like a mad man as he gripped you roughly, pulling you in the direction of another room and dismissing the men on guard. You were no longer deemed as a threat as he led you into the room, far nicer than the cell you had grown accustomed to.

He stripped you of your weapons, though he was not thorough, leaving your bloodied knife within your waistband as he took the rifle and pistol from your body, turning the safety on and throwing them across the room.

"I thought we beat the need to escape out of you," he tsked, hands feeling your body in a way far less appropriate than simply looking for weapons. "But I now see that you have to be broken in a different way to get you to comply with our rules."

Your heart dropped to your stomach as the five other men walked through the door, dragging their bodies with them. Three had a grip on Ghost's sluggish body, and two were struggling against Soap's protests. The men forced Ghost and Soap to their knees, Ghost having to steady himself by placing his hands in front of him to keep him from falling foreword. They had drugged him, most likely using the same one they had used to keep you compliant in the first weeks of your capture.

"Redback?" Ghost questioned softly as he looked towards you, confusion running through his mind.

"These two were found sneaking around our base," Yuri revealed, toying with a piece of your hair as he forced you to look at them. Soap held a look of distraught as he looked over at you, like he had just seen a real ghost, while Ghost's eyes held a look of resentment within them. You weren't sure who the resentment was pointed towards, but you had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't directed at you. "And now you'll watch them die."

Yuri stepped foreword, his own pistol raised, pressing the barrel against Soap's head as he looked back at you. With a clenched jaw, you pulled the knife from your waistband and pressed it against your wrist. The sharpness of it caused a small speck of blood to dribble down your arm and drip to the floor, but despite the sting you kept it in place.

"Makarov wants me, you kill them and I'll die with them," You spoke clearly, despite your voice being hoarse from not speaking for days on end. "How would that look for you? Under your watch, his prized possession dies because you can't do your fucking job right."

Yuri let out a dry chuckle, "so loyal," he commented, looking towards the men knelt before him, "and where are your pleas? When she was taken from you, you left her. Maybe you two would rather her blood spill to cover your sins."

"Shut up," You hissed, their silence to his words were deafening, a heartbreaking scene as Ghost looked anywhere but at you.

"I want you to memorise this moment, they weren't here to rescue you," Yuri growled, "They were completing another mission, and you so happen to be here as well."

Ghost's eyes, despite hooded with the effects of the drug, widened slightly, struggling even harder against the three men that held him in place. Soap on the other hand, used the distraction as an ample time to escape. Taking the gun from Yuri, Soap pointed it towards the men holding him down and left off two shots, killing them quickly. You had taken this opportunity to throw the knife, watching with a sickening smile as it lodged itself into Yuri's chest. Ghost, regardless of being under the influence of a drug, took down two of the men holding him hostage while Soap let off another shot into the final man.

Ignoring the two men, you walked over towards Yuri, watching as he spluttered out in pain. Hovering over him, you crouched down, twisting the knife deeper into his chest. Pulling it out, you relished in the pool of blood that began to form.

"I want you to memorise this moment," You repeated his words to him as you dragged the bloodied knife down his cheek, smearing his own blood on his face, "that nobody is here to rescue you." and with that, you plunged the knife up through his bottom jaw.

Months had come and gone, and you had not spoken a word to anyone on Task Force 141 since you had been brought back to the. safety of your base. The wounds, the injuries to your flesh would heal long before you're able to heal your brain. You had gone through a lot, many scars now littered your body, your ankles and wrists having a permanent red line from the rubbing of your shackles, and your mind was in shambles. Laswell had told you that they hadn't looked for you once, that they assumed you were dead and had even informed your family of you being killed in action. You felt almost betrayed that they didn't even bother to look for you, that the mission was more important to them, to Ghost, than to see you still breathing.

The doctors had gotten you healthy again, gave you the fluids and sustenance you had been deprived on before setting you up with a physiotherapist. That man had retaught you how to do simple tasks, explaining to you that the only reason you were capable of such things during your escape was because of the adrenaline coursing through your veins. It had taken you four months to get back to doing things on your own, and an additional three months before you were back to your usual abilities, and still within all that time, you refused to look at the men that had left you in the hands of the enemy. They had offered you leave, to go home and spend time with family, but if the mission was as important as leaving behind a team member, it only made sense to stay and complete it before gifting yourself with seeing your parents relieved faces.

The gym was quiet at three am, sleep no longer a need for you as it only plagued your mind with unwanted memories. The sound of your knuckles coming in contact with the rubber punching bag silenced your mind, created an inner peace within you as you assaulted the equipment. Nobody else resided inside as you continued to push your abilities, seeing just how long you could do this before getting tired. You used to be able to go for hours, but now, it seemed that you could only do half of that.

Your inner peace was quickly ruined by the sound of heavy footsteps, and before you could even register what was happening, his hands wrapped around your waist and pushed you against the closest wall. He turned you to face him, the hard skull plate from his mask was gone, his balaclava the only thing separating them from each other. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were hooded from lack of sleep, the black war paint he usually sported was not there, leaving his expressions easier to read.

"You never threaten to kill yourself to save me again," His voice was rough, reminding you of a hot long black in the early of the morning, bitter and abrasive, burning your tongue. "I'd rather get shot ten times over than ever see you do that again."

Scoffing, you looked at him with a frown, "A few months too late for this revelation, Lieutenant."

"I don't care," He huffed, grip on your waist loosening, "You don't get to do that shit, not anymore."

"And you don't get too care, why do you even care? Huh?" You spluttered out, words dripping with venom, "You left me there to die, Laswell told me everything, told me how you all didn't even give me a second thought, told my fucking family I was dead."

"I watched you die," He growled out, "I watched as that bullet went through your chest, as you fell to the ground."

"And you didn't think to check? The mission that important to you that you can't go over to a wounded soldier and check if their heart is still beating?" You all but screamed at him, if you were anyone else, your yelling at a superior would go severly punished, "I was wearing a fucking chest plate, you saw me put it on, you checked I had it on before we started that fucking mission, and you still left me for dead."

"You don't think I don't remember that now?" He yelled back. at you, voice booming throughout the gym, "You don't think I wasn't awake every night wondering about you? Thinking of things I could have done differently? I completed that mission and went back for you, you were gone."

"Why do you care so much?" You hissed at him, "The first time we met you told me that I'd be another dead body at the edge of your boot because you didn't think I was good enough, why care now?"

"Because you mean something to me," He revealed, though his words were sweet his tone wasn't, it was like he resented the fact that you meant something to him, "you mean more to me every single day, that's why I care."

[justwinginglife]

I have had this on my mind for a while now. Fem reader was a cruel villain in her previous life and was reincarnated to the Kn8 universe and met Soshiro and well... In love :3

Go crazy my friend.

Forgive me, this could've been a whole ass series, and I was too lazy to make it one LOL. Also I changed up the prompt slightly so that reader has always been in the KN8 universe, just reincarnating through the years.

Of All The Ways To Die

You were dying and they’d cursed you.

The audacity.

For the crime of being a witch, you’d been bound, gagged, and condemned to be burned alive. As the flames devoured your flesh, as the heat ravaged your body, as the smoke filled your lungs, you thought you glimpsed the gates of Hell in your last moments. They were flung open wide for you, and the tortured souls of your past were waiting to claim you, impatient for your penance. If that wasn’t nightmare enough, the Hoshinas had the audacity to send you to your damnation with a final parting gift- they placed a curse on you. 

In this life and the next, in heaven and in hell, in purgatory and in limbo, in the span of every universe that could ever or would ever exist, your soul was cursed to an eternity bound to their clan. There was no world in which you could run or hide, there was only their infinite retribution. 

It was a cruel punishment to be shackled to the souls of your murderers, to have every life you could ever live ended at their hands, but you didn’t intend to go quietly. You intended to make this curse as torturous for them as it was for you. If they were going to sabotage you at every turn, you’d just have to make your death worth it. If they were the protectors of peace, you were the bringer of chaos. And you planned to make such a mess of this world that even a Hoshina couldn’t put it back together. 

If they were the heroes of this never ending saga, you were the perfect villain.

“I’ll see you on the other side of eternity.” 

Your malicious grin was the last thing they saw before the flames enveloped you. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You kept your promise in every life.

Even with no memories of your previous reincarnations, even with no knowledge of this everlasting curse, you left mayhem and madness in your wake. It was almost as though you couldn’t help yourself, as though evil were your second nature. 

And when another Hoshina arrived at your door, when they claimed yet another one of your lives, you found some satisfaction in your death, knowing you’d caused so much devastation as to warrant their intervention. 

As you succumbed to your fate, letting the darkness take hold of you once again, you wondered what trouble you could get up to in the next life. 

You found your answer in the form of the black market. 

In this technologically advanced age you’d now found yourself in, there was no room for witchcraft, for medieval villainy, there was simply give and take. And you took everything.

Before you knew it, you were the ruler over the black market. Every deal that was made, every secret that was whispered, every resource that was extracted, everything was yours to use as you pleased. In the span of a decade, you’d amassed an enormous empire. 

And Soshiro had no idea.

In every life you’d ever lived, one Hoshina or another would always find you at your most heinous, at the peak of your degeneracy. And then your life would end. 

But in this life, as though Fate had grown tired of this game, as though eternity was much too infinite for their liking, you grew up right next door to the Hoshinas. And Soshiro became your best friend.

For a while, his good influence was enough to corral most of your immorality on most days, but no one could help your greed or your ambition or your cunning. 

When he ran off to join the Defense Force, your competing ambitions pulled the two of you apart. You weren’t as pure as he was, you wouldn’t dare waste your energy on such a ridiculous profession; it was a noble one but still ridiculous in your eyes. Meanwhile he couldn’t think of anything better. Though his endless optimism should’ve infuriated you, it only made you love him more. He saw the world for how cruel it was and still chose to hope for better. And some part of you couldn’t help but wonder if he could see the same in you. But the allure of the underworld held more appeal than your one sided love and before you knew it, you were too focused on your schemes to spend time nursing your pining heart. 

When you did meet up with him on the occasion you were both free, he’d always tell you to do something with your life. He’d tell you to join him. He knew how strong you were, how smart you were, how driven you were. But he didn’t know that you’d already used those gifts to force every business and every back alley, every port and every parlor, into submission. Japan was a puppet and you were its master.

But every villain had their weakness, and it became harder and harder to ignore that he was yours. Looking back, you’d always had a soft spot for him. 

When you were kids, someone made fun of Soshiro’s hair and you shaved half their head off in return. 

When you were teens, he caught some teenager stealing from an old lady and when he ran after them to retrieve her purse, like the kind-hearted boy that he was, they punched him in the face. Before he could react, you broke their arm, like the cruel-hearted girl that you were. 

And it didn’t matter how old or young your opponent was- you were undaunted and unwavering in your punishments. Once, a teacher had failed Soshiro due to a personal grudge they’d held against his father, and you took a sledgehammer to their car. When the teacher threatened to involve the authorities, you simply smiled at him and dared him to call the cops, saying that the second you saw a siren, you’d release photos of his infidelity to the entire country of Japan. 

Even now, with all the power that you wielded, you’d use your influence to anonymously send supplies to the Third Division, to send food, to send weapons, to send armor. If you couldn’t be by his side, you could at least support him from afar. He didn’t have to know, he just had to stay safe.

When he messaged you, wanting to meet up again, you felt this was the perfect opportunity to make sure he’d been getting your gifts. You treated him to dinner at your favorite restaurant.

“How’s my favorite little entrepreneur?” He scooped you up in a hug. 

You slightly winced, remembering the lie you’d told him about opening up your own shop to get him to stop trying to convince you to join the Defense Force. You comforted yourself with the thought that, technically, you owned lots of shops. If lots of shops meant the entirety of Japan. You bet you could even buy the JAKDF if you ever felt the desire to. It was a tempting thought now that you were faced with one of their most promising soldiers, and if buying the JAKDF meant more time with him, you’d have to look into it. You’d forgotten how much you missed him. How soft you got when he was around. 

“I’m better now that you’re here.” You sighed into his shoulder.

He laughed. “Buttering me up, huh? Don’t tell me it’s cuz you’re tryna convince me to change jobs again.”

You pouted. “And what if I was?”

He ruffled your hair. “Then you’d have a hell of a time with it, because you know I’m not leaving the Defense Force.”

You crossed your arms and sulked. “You mean the shitty Defense Force that’s making you fight with nothing more than sticks and stones?”

He leaned forward, “Actually, we got this huge shipment the other day of brand new equipment. The very latest in Izumo tech. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that,” He tucked a hair behind your ear, “Would you?”

How was it that you owned thousands of casinos and still couldn’t manage a poker face to save your life?

He laughed, letting you off the hook for now. “Shall we order dinner?”

You grumbled to yourself about him being a tease and then buried your face in the menu. He smiled to himself on his side of the table. 

When you had a couple more drinks in you, he pushed the subject again. “So. It seems you got my text the other day.”

You took another sip from your cup. “Which text? You text me a lot.”

He grinned. “Touche. The one about my suit overheating.”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure where he was going with this. “Yeah, I read that. What of it?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh nothing. I’m just assuming that’s why I got a new suit delivered to me the very same day, one that can withstand my combat power for longer periods of time.”

You choked on your drink. “Well that’s convenient, good for you.”

He laughed. “Cmon. How long are we going to keep doing this?”

You cleared your throat. “Doing what?”

He poked your nose. “Pretending like you’re not the one sending me these things.”

You laughed awkwardly. “I’m not so rich that I can get my hands on the latest Izumo tech, Soshiro. You overestimate me.”

“Mmhm. Sure. Okay. Well, if you ever find out who is leaving me all these gifts, thank them for me, yeah?” He finished his food and got up to leave, “And give them a big kiss for me, would you?” He smirked as he walked out the door. 

What?

What did he just say?

Bastard.

“Soshiro! You asshole, you can’t just leave me hanging like that!” You dumped a couple large bills on the table, not even caring that you’d just tipped more than the meal was worth, and you ran after him.

He was laughing to himself down the street when you finally caught up to him. “So I guess business is doing good then?”

You glared at him. “And so maybe it is. What, I’m not allowed to send my best friend presents?”

He smirked. “Ah, so you admit you’re my secret admirer.” He bent down to whisper in your ear, “Or do you just want that kiss that badly?”

Before you could answer (you’re not even sure what you would’ve answered), he pulls you against him and presses his lips to yours. 

After completely devouring all your oxygen, he pulls away and murmurs, “Thanks. For everything.”

You’re so breathless you think you might choke on your own lungs.

When he takes your hand and whispers in your ear, “Now it’s my turn to treat you,” and then leads you to a ballroom that he’d completely bought out just so he could slow dance with you, you think you might cough up the heart that’s beating so rapidly in your chest. 

But of all the ways to die, you’ve decided this is the best way to go- in Soshiro’s arms.

[syrupfog]

Need to read some fic where Law is the one who falls HARD and instantly, while Luffy takes a while. 

Law full on pining from day 1 while Luffy’s like “haha you’re so weird but your bear’s cool”

Law convincing himself that just being close to Luffy during their alliance is enough, treasuring every moment bc he knows Luffy doesn’t feel the same. All the straw hats pitying him and/or outright hostile towards him bc he’s transparent as fuck

Luffy being like “I’m busy becoming the pirate king traffy’s cool I like him but he’s not my crew” and law accepting that and thinking it’s for the best, he doesn’t have a good track record keeping loved ones alive anyway.

Law devoting himself mind body and soul to luffy after Dressrosa, knowing even then that Luffy’s going to be pirate king and law will do anything to make that happen because he wants luffy to have the freedom law’s never felt

And luffy, despite what everyone seems to think, he’s not dumb. He knows how law feels. He doesn’t GET it, just like he doesn’t get why Boa Hancock feels that way, or why he has a fan club, but he does know how law feels about him.

And maybe it’s not until after egghead that something changes. Maybe it’s when Luffy realises that Teach HAS Law, and he gets more upset than people expect. When he goes after Black beard with a fury even he doesn’t understand

And I dunno, maybe Luffy’s never felt love this way before, can recognise it in others but not in himself because it’s all new, but when he gets law back, beaten and tortured in the name of the eternal life surgery, Luffy can’t let him out of his sight.

Almost maniacally, carries law all around the sunny like a soother, law barely conscious as chopper is desperately trying to tend to his injuries but luffy just feels WEIRD without law in his arms. He’s being petulant and stubborn about it because he’s not processing WHY he feels this way. 

And law comes back to himself slowly and is equally confused. Feels undeserving for this weird questionable kindness of being dragged all over like a favourite stuffed animal while, again, chopper is BEGGING luffy to leave law in the infirmary

It goes on for days, until law finally tells luffy to for the love of god put him down, and luffy says “I WON’T I CAN’T something BAD will happen again” and Law has to stiltedly assure him that no, it really won’t. He goes on a tangent about compulsions that luffy clearly ignores

And to law this is a special sort of hell because he LOVES this. Knows this is the luffy version of being doted on,and feels entirely undeserving. He’s knocked luffy off course of becoming the pirate king, his one dream. Law can’t be the reason that doesn’t happen

But Luffy keeps not letting him go, until Law has to FORCE the issue “STRAW HAT YA PUT ME DOWN” only for luffy to say “NO I FEEL WEIRD YOU’RE MAKING ME FEEL WEIRD AND I DON’T GET IT, YOU’RE MAKING ME NERVOUS”

he’s throwing a whole mini tantrum on the middle of the deck on the Sunny where everyone is pointedly looking away as if they can’t hear. And Law, equally unable to understand the situation, says, “WELL HOW DO YOU THINK *i* FEEL”

And maybe that’s when it clicks for Luffy. Ohhhhhh this is how law felt all that time? Like uncomfy bad nervous and upset tummy? THAT’S what this is? 

“Traffy is this LOVE?”he asks, VERY loudly. 

And law, turning beet red, says “no!! It’s not!! Put me down!!”

Because law has known luffy in some form or another for three years at this point and law has loved him for all of it and therefore he is WELL AWARE that luffy doesn’t love him back, so this is clearly something else. PTSD, probably. OCD, definitely.

But then , because all of the straw hats ARE there, Franky yells, “don’t listen to him, little bro! That’s definitely love!” 

And law chokes, starts struggling to be put down, ears BURNING and face in flames. “No it’s NOT” he yells.

“Traffy,” Luffy says, a deep frown on his face as his arms wind again and again around law’s middle. “I think franky’s right.” 

“He’s not,” law seethes, struggling against the rubber boa constrictor arms. “ You CAN’T like me, you’re going to be PIRATE KING.”

Luffy looks up at him. “So what?” He asks, genuinely confused 

“You can’t TIE YOURSELF DOWN to THIS,” law says, furtively motioning to himself. “You’re the freest man in the world, you can’t be tied down to someone who couldn’t even beat black beard.”

Luffy studies him. He thinks REALLY hard, tilting his head and observing law’s expressions go through the five phases of grief. Then he says “that’s dumb, Traffy. Being free means I can choose whatever I want, and I want you.”

Which is, like, something law never let himself think about. So he doesn’t know how to respond. It doesn’t make SENSE. Luffy is everything, is freedom and joy, and law is a man who’s failed every important person in his life.

But luffy IS free to choose, is the thing. And law long ago vowed to do whatever he could to make him pirate king, so. 

“…fine, straw hat-ya. I think you will change your mind, but I won’t stand in your way.”

Luffy laughs. “That’s a weird way to say you’ll be my boyfriend, traffy,” he says. 

And then he gives law the worst, most wet kiss in history. All the straw hats in the vicinity cover their ears in embarrassment.

[libec-mostly]

‼️ HUGE IWTV SPOILERS ‼️(also don't care if there are any grammatical mistakes i learnt english by myself don't judge 🙏)

the fact that every major moment in this show comes with fire is an amazing decision and it has such a beautiful metaphor and correlation with religion like

first it was a church fire inside of chaos, a flame of a human life inside of louis, a massacre, and pain pain pain oh so much pain, and then acceptance, and love, and worship "I saw him, saw his extraordinary aura and knew him to be no creature I’d ever known, I was reduced to nothing" and then some sense of security, a fucked up idea about happiness and a family, and eternity, and it was a rebirth of louis. here inside a chapel, surrounded by dozens of candle flames, of holy fire, under the christ, he found a real god, his god, like a 'devotee experiencing christ for the first time'

fire in storyville, denial of his own nature, torturing memory of the life and a family of a human that he once was, and reality that he now had to face, inability to control his emotions, and the consequences of unconscious impulsive actions, the birth of claudia, his daughter, his sister, his companion, his everything, his claudia.

a burning of antoinette and a homicide of lestat - louis is lost completely, day by day, he's tired and he can't keep up with the play pretend of a perfectly fucked family, with his claudia. with HIS lestat. and he's already torn between the present and the past and he wants to go back, he wants to be loved and be seen by lestat for the first time again, but he made his choice a forever ago, and he regrets it that instant. louis and claudia are reborn again, they leave new orleans

during a search for others like them in romania, it's an old vampire lady who threw herself in a fire and it's opened louis' and claudia's eyes on the reality of being a vampire without hope and guidence, and maybe for a second here, they thought about lestat, and felt a sense of compassion towards him

a fire in a mansion of some reach douches in paris - the first time after claudia's birth when she feels alive again, she found a coven that feels like family and she's riding a bike home and maybe just for a moment she remembered what lestat said about "an experience that feels like eating syrup while riding on the wind". and maybe it's weird but she felt herself being at two places at the same time - at home in new orleans, and at home in paris. "I love everybody and everything in this every moment, right every now!" claudia is alive oh so alive

and then it's an execution of claudia. a death by sunlight. and claudia is strong, incredibly strong, and she doesn't fall to her knees, but it hurts so much, and oh somebody please help me, i don't want to go, somebody please! she turns to lestat. she doesn't say anything, she can't, she doesn't need to. she looks at him "it burns so much i can't take it, it's under my skin, it's all over me, it hurts dad. dad. please. i need your h-". claudia is strong. so strong, she manages to kill lestat just by looking once in his eyes, while being burned alive by the sun

louis setting the théâtre des vampires on fire, not feeling a single emotion but a raging flame of anger after being resurrected. and louis is a dead man walking, two times more literal or ironical this time. and he's leaving paris because paris burns in all the colours of fire.

and then it's louis walking into the burning rays of sun in san francisco after meeting a young reporter, who made him plunge into an ocean of devouring memories of new orleans, of lestat, of his death, of his birth, of his claudia, and it was all so suffocating and it burned and burned and burned underneath his skin, and there he was again. dying. being born. becoming a new louis, an unprecedented louis, a polished to a shine mask of louis, that he would have to wear for the next 77 years.

"The sun as the giver of all life and the vampire as the epitome of the undead, the diametric opposite to life itself..."

"...are we closer to vampires because we too can be burnt, or are they closer to us for it?"

[bhaal-battle-beer-bard]

ℜ𝔢𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔏𝔬𝔰𝔱

𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝟏

𝓐𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖓

commission for @aristenfromwarsaw

“Redemption Lost” song listening while reading – Astarion’s song · Part 2 Aristen

Astarion x Dark Urge Aristen poetry

🥀🩸🥀🩸🥀🩸🥀🩸🥀🩸🥀🩸🥀🩸🥀🩸🥀

Liar, cheater, thief A thousand voices scream In my head, I hear my own, louder than them all True you were, when I met you Which one of us was the fool? Who did fell? Undeserving Wounds deep of centuries Burden my heart, cut deep, cut it out Waiting for someone to hold me - giving up hurts less Maybe not deserving A paradise with bleeding heart Meaningless tomorrows In all eternity Torture and pain, until you feel nothing at all Mouth sewn shut, soul hidden, heart sealed From all I feared, from all I could ever love and care for World in flames, crashing down, I don’t care Electrified with rage and anger Turning my back on burning cities, whose heroes have forsaken me Self-righteousness deserves to perish in flames Can my heart come back from this envious dark? How can I – filled with hate – deserve your love? Your heart is without compare Care, compassion - I never felt before Is enough good in me left, to be loved? My love that I call Aristen Do I deserve to be with you? To be loved? Or is it good, that my name will be forgotten? The undead eternity that I must suffer, just erased it like dust? Like all I had and ever was, since this fatal winter’s night Drowning in the sea of my suffering and misery But you give me breath and light, like the winter constellations in the starry sky Soft hands holding me - suddenly some silver in my darkest night Your taste is like poetry in the air Sweet sorceress of mine Golden lips, golden hair The light of your smile so bright, I have to close my eyes But why do tears glisten in the night? Moonlight upon you Darkness within you You are scared of failing, but I see you fly Your darkness never scares, your heart however does Beating, beating Tender and loving Breaking through my hands? Or is it mine to break in the end? Your eyes see stars in me, when I am nothing more than a burnt-up comet Lying in ashes to rot The more you see in me, the more I crave to be But can I be? But can I be? Good enough for this love of thee? When all I see, is an endless nothing in the mirror Meaningless hollow nothingness Emptiness, my heart an endless void Don’t be afraid You are not the monster of your darkness Your worst sin I see, is hating yourself, giving others more than they deserve Not letting down, those who have abandon you You destroy and despise yourself for nothing You don’t need absolution For me, you are the last light of all days With you I see light and colours in the dark Not reckless, not careless, together a matter to the world You showed me compassion and forgiveness Showed me I can love and care You saved me and gave me everything I don’t want you to leave, because your memory would sing in my blood until the end of all days You make me believe, we are more than what we were made to be

🥀🩸🥀🩸🥀🩸🥀🩸🥀🩸🥀🩸🥀🩸🥀🩸🥀

a/n: second part of my commission for @aristenfromwarsaw

Astarion x Dark Urge Aristen poetry

She wanted a poem about how Astarion feels not good enough to be with her Durge Aristen, not worthy of her love. While Aristen sees Astarion as her true savior, despite she is desperate about her crimes as bhaal spawn and struggling with her past, that should forbid her being happy with a wonderful elf like Astarion, the only one that seem to understand her truly. All the more the irony of their thoughts and doubts. All your wonderful stories about your Aristen and Astarion, inspired me. And you know me, I love a dramatic, angsty, tragic love story the most. I hope I made it not to dramatic – but believe me, the first draft was even way more drama. For two weeks now I've been working on it and I have to say I'm very happy with it and I really like it. I hope you enjoy it, that it inspires you too and that it meets your expectations and gets the message across well. (If the song to this did not get stuck in your head, I'll be offended 😉😆😂) Maybe someone else will take a liking to it too as well. I would be delighted. I wish I could be so focused on working on things for my OCs. I've been writing a short fanfic about Astarion and Saulus since September and well...a stagnating WIP it is since then. This time it really should be like a conversation between Astarion and the Bhaalspawn. Or more like writing letters to each other. I got inspired to this writing style, of a music album from a band, where the first song on the CD was sung by a woman and told of a love story. The last song on the album was sung by a man and was the exact answer to her song. (Or the other way around) I thought that was great at the time. Unfortunately, I can't remember what kind of band it was. Not at all. I can't seem to remember anything these days. Maybe someone knows better than me which album I mean and can enlighten me. (I've noticed that I write differently when I'm composing on a laptop or starting in my bard/poetry book (obviously). Do you prefer the shorter stuff, poems/ballads with fewer/shorter lines? What do you say?)

[rutilefearless]

Do you think I'm fragile?

Mha x introvert!todoroki!reader

Summary: the fifth child of endeavor is a very quite and reserved person, due to her being hidden and silenced society considered her as weak, vulnerable and fragile. Her silence makes her secrets and plans so hidden well, so...do you think she's fragile?

PS: this just a headcannon of you being on Dabis side.

You we're the youngest member of the family, very small and frail and to add the now weighing disappointment you are a female

There's nothing wrong with being a female other than you being so...I donno silent?

You weren't like this at all, you were the most liveliest member and you were like any other naive toddlers

The family thought of you as a flower, a beautiful flower growing on a hard pavement of stones given by your bitxhy of a father

The moment you zipped your mouth for eternity was when your quirk started manifesting and when Touya died.

You and the others were eating dinner in silence, no one spoked and no one talked, what was to talk about anyway aside from quirks and not so motivating words from your father. The others felt worried not hearing you speak for the first time, you were always the first one to start a conversation no matter the situation. It worried them to the point that Fuyumi asked you if you were okay.

"Me?... I'm okay just tired." You smiled tiredly ignoring that tingling and burning sensation on your left shoulders.

"Are you sure? Do you want to go to bed?" Fuyumi asks caressing your small head.

"No...I have to finish eating, I don't want to disappoint you and your cooking." You giggled.

You continued eating your food as Natsuo could only stare at you in worry. Dinner was going well until you dropped your chopsticks and purple flame erupted from your behind completely burning the fabric covering it and lighting up the room.

"Shit." Enji mutters.

He immediately went to your side as well as Fuyumi as she uses her ice quirk to prevent the fire from burning you and the house, the fire went out but the skin on your back was filled with scratches, burns, and rashes. You we're in state in shock, you couldn't even feel the tear that fell from your eyes.

"[name]?..." Shoto asks in the same state as you.

"Wha-what was that?" Your small voice trembles in fear as you tried to look at your father.

"Father, is she gonna be okay?" Natsou asks, Touya couldn't speak at the moment and could only stare at you wide eyed.

"It's her quirk." He says coldly.

"You're not going to use her, right?" Your mother asks as her eyes shakily narrowed towards Enji.

"Did you not see the amount of power and heat it held? Of course I will." Enji says firmly.

"Did you not see the bruises and burns she got? Enji you can't do this she's only 4!" Your mother argues back.

"Shut it woman you're not one to decide who's strong and who's not."

Their voices went louder and louder but we're muffled by the hands for your sister covering your ears while Touya covers your eyes.

"It's gonna be okay, I'll get you out of here." He whispers, he always says this...but did it ever happen?

Years has passed and Touya didn't made it through, he wasn't around anymore, and you don't feel comfortable like before. You weren't as noisy as before, you haven't talked about your day in the daycare nor did you made friends, teachers asked your mother if things were doing well at home since you were to silent to even tell the other kids to move over. She lied, of course she will how is she going to explain that the pro hero Endeavor just made their home a kingdom of hell by torturing his families lives one by one.

Things were getting worse, your family isn't even a family but just mere dolls in a doll house dressing up for a show for the sake of your father's selfish desires and a rather heavy reputation. Because of your situation at home being under the shadows of your brothers and sisters, you zipped your mouth and took the key limiting it's use.

After Shoto went to UA you were around 13 years old and introverted outside your home or inside, your alone and sometimes seen in the house lake just sitting or studying

Sadly because of your quirk and body not working together and a huge possibility of you turning to ash with your quirk you were now one of the dumps a.k.a the disappoinments.

Because of this he forgot about your existence and focused on the eldest success but you were successful yourself you were just insecure because he never looked at you the way he looked at them or maybe he never looked at you

Your academic life slowly became normal ever since your father wanted to make things better, but you had enough and stayed silent either way.

There were times you spoke like when your siblings tells you something important and you'd reply words like "is that so? Ok." "Got it." "Ok." "I understood."

You're so silent not even your father could sense your presence in his office asking for permission to leave late at night because there wasn't any soba for shoto ( in which he agreed for the sake of his diet)

Not even his fans and paparazzi could take random photos of you and selling it online would work because of an anonymous user deleting those post or website, no one knows who did it, not even you

It eventually became an issue in social media and even got to the news saying "Endeavors daughters stolen photos has been going missing online." ...yea

The news got to Enji and he could agree he does not know who it was since he didn't hire anyone to do so, he doesn't know this happened because does he give a damn? Obviously no

Because of this scandal you actually met your savior don't worry bb

His name is Dabi and you know this man got something in him, like how half of his body is literally coated in burnt rotted skins that you have no idea if it even is his

Seeing his appearance and how he admitted in stalking you in a not creepy way got you like "yep this man is definitely a villain"

You we're so lonely that you befriended this dangerous being and called him as the only person to even know your ability

You aren't weak, ever since the news found out about your quirk they called you as one

Since you can't use your own quirk on your skin you used the most smallest yet used part of your body, like your fingers or foot or even form a wing with it

Your quirk is strong because one touch of it could melt metal, so ever since you met Dabi you've been training on top of a rooftop of a random building

But...a certain someone saw you with Dabi, his red feathers sways with the wind as his dirty blonde hair joins along

"Well would you look at That, I've got tea for today."

U want p.2 ... I'll try ✌️🤡

[synthizedarchive]

꩜ ⋆࿔* : SUBJECT: REBIRTH ; RE - AFTEREFFECTS ( PART 2 )

as the consequences of luan's actions in bringing jessi back from the dead in a form of REBIRTH radiate throughout the entire cosmos - other guides assigned to humans begin to have false belief that they can replicate that same connection jessi / luan have.

some have this mindset in wanting to protect & save their humans, or trying to, from the inevitable fall of earth. however some have this desire for selfish reasons, wanting their own 'rebirth' power that will never come.

those that try to reach through the veil of Here & There have dire consequences: some guides never make it past the Veil & are captured by the Void, eternally subject to suffering silence & the talons of lost souls that will forever claw, tear & rip their starry essence to shreds, only to rebuild them to torture all over again. some manage to break through the veil, but unable to make it to their human as their essence begins to burn, flames of frenzied angered supernovas scorching their souls from the inside out - combustion that burns the lands around them for miles. those rare guides that manage to reach through the veil & touch their humans, both explode in a burst of dying stars, flesh & gore , making both human & guide erased from existence.

none are successful in replicating the act of REBIRTH between jessi / luan, as it is simply not possible within the cosmic fate written since the beginning of time.

those that have the desire but never act on the impulse, have no choice but to eventually watch their assigned humans perishing on earth - in whatever manner that may be. through countries folding in on themselves, nuclear fire, natural disasters & cosmic weather events that no mortal soul could survive, radiation sickness, the act of physical body horror that begins to infest & rot human survivors etc . . . // this creates an ultimate resentment to jessi / luan, that they managed to survive & thrive from their rebirthing, even at the cost of the cosmos, while guides have to watch their beloved humans fading into nothing but molten ash.

some guides that see their assigned humans erased, seek the primordial order with the request for their own permanent-erasure, as being immortal & ageless, have no control over own self-murder. this must be granted by the council who see guides in their millions lining up in the hope of being killed. a wish that ends up being granted, council worried that if they refuse, the guides can cause a munity / rebellion ( & the primordial order have bigger problems on their hands i.e. rebirth )

ironically, the cord between guides & humans begins to sever entirely. assigned human-guides perish, as does humanity on earth. within months, the act of kindness from spiritual celestial sources towards mortal humans becomes extinct -- just like humans themselves, as if it never existed. the primordial order eventually releases a law towards any other cosmic bodies that the mention of EARTH / HUMANS is strictly forbidden.

[multi-fandom-hoebag]

Kneel (m! Arisen x Wilhelmina)

Sheer smut. 18+ only! More under cut.

The flames from the various candles lining the room burned low, casting long shadows across the walls. The light reflected on the sheen of sweat coating Wilhelmina’s skin, the result of a combination of the heat from the flames, and the pleasure coming from the man kneeling in front of her.

Her eyes met those of her lover, who was kneeling before her where she sat in the chair with her legs open like an offering; the man who was worshiping her in a way she had never experienced, despite having taken her fair share of lovers.

The man she had given herself wholly to, both body and heart.

The world knew him as the Arisen, but to her he was just Theron. 

Theron had spent the last several years of his life regaining his stolen throne, proving once and for all he was the rightful ruler of Vermund. Never had he bent the knee, standing tall in the face of those who would see him executed for treason. He refused to kneel, even when the fate of the world rested on his shoulders.  

Yet that same man who refused to kneel for the ruler of any nation, was now kneeling before her willingly submitting to Wilhelmina’s every desire. The most powerful man in Vermund was on his knees for her, filling her with a sense of power that only heightened the pleasure she was feeling. 

Wilhelmina had spent her life pursuing revenge, never allowing herself to see a life beyond vengeance and anger. Once her goal had been achieved, there remained very little, save for the hollow feeling that comes when one is left to wander aimlessly. 

But now, that same woman had the means to make the most powerful man in the land kneel before her, and she relished that feeling. 

A sound between a gasp and a moan escaped her as Theron eased his tongue inside of her. She gripped his hair firmly, her nails digging into his scalp as a satisfied grunt escaped her lover.

It still amused Wilhelmina how she was able to bring Theron to his knees with just a few gentle touches. Yet while Theron’s desire for her was never ending, sex was always Wilhelmina’s choice, and she had to admit that she rather enjoyed the change from being paid to be at the mercy of someone else’s will. 

A gentle touch of her finger was all it took to bring Theron to his knees, and he was more than willing to fulfill Wilhelmina’s every wish, sometimes spending hours tending to her before addressing his own aching desire.

Theron’s hands expertly explored Wilhelmina’s body, paying special attention to her breasts, moving over the taut peaks in just the way Wilhelmina liked it. A strangled cry escaped her throat as she threw her head back in pleasure as her body tensed, preparing to release for the third time that evening. Her vision began to blur as ecstasy bordered on torture, her cries of pleasure echoing off the stone walls.

She did not care who might hear her, in fact she wanted people to know that she was being pleasured by the very man who had left so many women-and more than a few men- pining. The  idea that she had managed to secure the very thing no other individual was able to grasp gave her a sense of satisfaction she had never experienced.

They belonged to each other both body and soul, and Wilhelmina would never hide that from anyone.

Her body shook with tremors as she reached a shuddering release, her sweet elixir pouring from her as Theron lapped at her, drinking every drop of her. His satisfied groans sent a pleasant vibration through her, her body tingling as she soared to new heights of ecstasy. 

His touches turned almost painfully gentle as he brought her back down from the peak, his fingertips gliding over her sweat soaked body in near reverence. 

After a blissful eternity,when the waves of pleasure subsided, she collapsed back into chair, her breathing ragged as she watched Therone begin kissing his way back up her body.

At last their mouths met, their tongues colliding together passionately as Wilhelmina tasted her own sweetness on Theron’s tongue. She groaned at the sensation, knowing it was this taste that sent Theron into near pitiful withdrawals when she denied him for her own amusement. 

Theron pulled back slightly, taking Wilhelmina’s lip between his teeth as he went, the sweet sting sending shivers through her body. 

Wilhelmina gazed into his eyes, the fire burning in them telling her that he was still ready and willing to serve her every whim.

“What do you wish?” Theron said, taking on the husky timbre that was reserved for Wilhelmina alone.

Wilhelmina smiled broadly, gently pushing Theron back down.

“Kneel.”

[borderline-gays-club]

7/20/24. 11:20pm

Tw: self harm, suicidal ideation

Lol at me thinking my BPD just magically disappeared..granted I’ve gotten significantly and noticeably better throughout the years.

But I’m going through it right now and feeling immensely triggered and vulnerable and my mind is in a dark place. I’m having repetitive thoughts of self harm, wanting to die, feeling paranoid, etc etc. but in all honesty it’s not really new. It’s just been a while. And maybe if anything this is a little alert from inside of myself that I need to address something.

When I connected that emotional pain has a similar mechanism as physical pain, it helped me to be able to sit with the pain a bit better. Pain exists to alert your system that something needs attention right now. Like if you put your hand on a flame and didn’t feel pain, then your whole hand would burn up eventually burning your whole body.

And right now I am feeling deeply in emotional pain. And it’s mostly just old pains that are being brought up by something that happened. I accidentally did something that triggered a meltdown in my best friend last night. And on top of that I just sat in the other room hearing their cries and wails. I was frozen.

I created the problem then couldn’t do anything to soothe the problem. So now I feel like I’m a useless person and can’t understand why anyone would ever want to be my friend. I can’t understand why anyone would ever love me.

And let me pause here. I’m not just thinking these thoughts but I’m deeply feeling them right now and therefore I feel pain. But rationally I know that connecting this incident to those definitive thoughts is not correct. Yet I feel it and a big part of me now believes it. And again, I know this feeling will pass but this is where I’m at now.

This is a very delicate place to be. Because it’s important to feel the pain, but it’s another thing to prolong the pain. Like for example if you get a cut and it scabs, but then you keep picking at the scab so the wound just keeps getting reopened. I have to be careful not to do that. Because that’s when things can get dangerous.

But right now there’s a part of me that wants to get to that point. I am so tired of feeling like I have to control so much of myself to just exist, and on top of that surviving everyday feels so difficult. Im never eating enough bc money, i never feel rested after sleeping ever, all my clothes just trigger body dysmorphia, and like idk this country is rapidly becoming more and more fascist !!! Like !!!????

All the microcosms of my own internal turmoils feels so insignificant to all the global crises. But I need to remind myself that it’s all connected. Bc it is.

And I’m afraid I’m going to die without ever experiencing love for someone else or even for myself. I’m scared of dying without actually knowing who I am. I don’t want to die as this fragmented being. I want my personal dreams to come true as well, but I think I fear not knowing who I am even more. That to me feels like an eternal torture.

I’m going to be very honest. I feel the desire to cut myself even though I haven’t done it in like 6 years. I haven’t felt this desire in a very very long time. And I’m going to be even more honest: I don’t know if I’ll be able to not do it. But then again I tend to underestimate my willpower at times.

My brain is alerting me a lot right now and I just want someone else to come in and sort it all out for me. I’m tired of feeling like I’m doing it all by myself.

[softquietsteadylove]

can you write some Thenamesh fluff? like, the two of them sleeping in front of a fireplace, snuggled up

Gilgamesh tossed another log into the fire as the door opened and shut, the air from it flickering the flames into a little dance. He leaned back on his elbows. "Hey."

"Hey," Thena smiled as she walked over to him, dropping the cloak and heavy robe behind her as she did. She shuddered once rid of the fine dressings of a royal war advisor, but that allowed her to hurriedly burrow under the blankets Gil had spread out for them.

"How's she doing?" Gil asked as Thena settled herself into his side. He asked it casually, the way he would ask about Sprite or Makkari or Sersi.

But they were referring to Olga, the current queen regent of Kievan-Rus, and freshly widowed due to Drevlian attack. The regent took the killing of her husband - cruel and undeniably torturous - personally.

She had asked her revered and unearthly war advisor how she should proceed. Ajak and Sersi had both moved to set the slander aside--for peace. And while being an advisor didn't mean Thena could incite grand wars between humans, she had answered honestly.

"What would you do?" Olga had looked up at Thena from her throne. "If it was your husband?"

Thena had thought about Gilgamesh in an instant, imagining his smiles, his hands holding hers, the warmth of him as he banished the unrelenting cold from bothering her.

"I would burn the world to the ground and then reshape the ashes in their likeness so they could beg my forgiveness from beyond the grave."

"Thena," Gil raised his brows, although for whatever he was feeling about the declaration, he did not look surprised about it.

"She may do with that advice what she desires," Thena mumbled, the warmth of Gilgamesh already soothing her like a cat in a sunbeam.

"Ajak is gonna be mad," Gil teased quietly as he leaned forward and reached into the fire with his bare hand to adjust the position of a log. He wiped the ashes off on the rug before pulling Thena into his lap.

"She already is," Thena sighed, although she did not care if their Prime thought she was being too violent in her suggestions. Olga had asked her - human woman to Warrior Eternal - and Thena had given her honest answer. She tightened her arms around Gil's neck.

He rubbed her back. She wasn't saying as much, but the thought of what she would have to do without him always tended to shake her. They were Eternals--it wasn't something they had to consider often. But they were also Fighters, and it was technically possible for them to perish. And that never seemed to bother the Warrior Eternal until they were on the subject of him.

"I can't imagine what she's feeling," Thena finally confessed in a whisper, the crackling of the fire underscoring her words. "If I had to worry about you dying from an attack by a handful of humans-"

Gil let her burrow into him deeper, her face pressed to his neck, her hands clinging to him. He was happy to let her, bending one of his legs and letting it cushion the curve of her back. He tucked the blanket over his shoulders more around her, even at the cost of having his other arm exposed to the open air. "So, we're going to war, huh?"

"I doubt they'll need us," Thena sighed, unwinding slowly. She pressed a hand to his chest. "Olga has...other methods in mind."

"I don't wanna know," Gil snorted as he adjusted them again. He laid himself lengthwise, parallel to the fire. He rested on his back with Thena stretched out on top of him. His hand raised to push her hair behind her ear. "I'm sure I'll be horrified at what she's about to do."

Thena pursed her lips, "I think they'll be somewhat deserving of whatever she is about to enact."

Gilgamesh chuckled, raising his head just to touch the tip of his nose to hers. "You menace."

Thena purred as she melted into him, under the blankets, close to the fire, listening to the beat of his heart and the rise of his lungs under her. "Olga was rather creative with her plan, actually. She needs no assistance from me."

"That's a little scary," Gil snorted. He gave her waist a squeeze. "You're beautiful when you're violent."

Thena laughed, all of her teeth showing.

Gil rolled them to the side, letting Thena's back be closest to the fire. He didn't need the extra warmth; he pulled her closer to him, burying his nose in her hair. "My Solnyshkuh has started another war, hm?"

Thena inhaled against his chest, running her hand up his flank and over his pectoral. "I do not start wars, I finish them."

"Well," Gil let out a loud sigh, the comfort of their position also lulling him into rest. "Whatever you ladies have planned, you know I'm around if you need me."

"Hm," Thena pressed her smile into his shirt, "yes, my ever helpful husband."

It wasn't the first time they had been taken for a married pair, and it would be far from the last. It wasn't as if it was out of the question for them.

Gil twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. "We should really get around to that."

"I suppose so."

"Olga could marry us."

"She's busy, Gil."

"After, I mean."

[sins-of-the-sea]

“Where is he?”

The maestro had come indeed. But he did not come as a beast. While Forte possessed great magic power, his true weapon was his guile and his voice.  Forte knew it was easier to hate a monster: kill a monster. It wasn’t fair, but it was a fact.

No, if the Captain wished to strike Forte, then what he would have to strike was a frail older gentleman.  Forte came as he was in his “glory days”, full suit and wig: powder too, though with a long smear at the corner of one eye.

“His real father has come to take him home.  One who would not punish him for who he is.  One who does not use chains and isolation because he sees him as a burden.”

Forte was close now.  Confronting.  His eyes tore into the soul, pained but furious.  He demanded that his agony be seen.

“Do you see this?  Behold before you a man who was chained and isolated for ten long years.  Do you know what that does to someone?  I remember screaming in desolation and prying desperately to escape: wondering why. Do you see these eyes? Stare into them deeply. Do you have any idea.. what it feels like… to hear of my own son subjected to the same torture I had been?  See this face and make your excuses.

“What could you.. possibly say to justify that?”

(never-took-a-lesson)

Josep had to use every ounce of his being to restrain himself from just throttling the Maestro before him, for making such accusations about the nature of Guy's imprisonment. Not because of the unfairness of the imprisonment at all, but the insinuations laced against the Captain's character. His whole form bursts into a fog, becoming a shapeless figure that creeps in the shadows and steals souls in one's sleep. There is a breath, haggard and seething, felt and heard through his teeth. And yet the blades--and hands--are stayed. He is Wrath… but he knows anger comes from different places. And as such, they must all have different approaches.

"I do know what ten long years of isolation looks like. I do know what the enclosing darkness can do on a man--and child. I do know what the desolation and desperation looks, sounds, and even smells like. I have seen those eyes.

"I have heard the voice. I heard the song.

"I still hear them every. Single. Day. And I sail the seas with it ringing in my ears for years to come.

"….That is not Guy's song, Maestro. I assure you--you misunderstand his cries. For one, he is holing himself up in the hold on his own volition. Each of us of the Crew, even those unrelated to his anguish the past several months, have attempted to reach him… to no avail.

"Secondly, he is shackled not for punishment, but for his safety--and those of others. Several times these past months, entire sections of the city would be burned down in a moment of impulse, or he would fall into habits that would reinforce the causes of his anguish to begin with. I am certain you can see he is troubled, Maestro. A young man stunted throughout the centuries of proper growth and healing due to the reasons behind his pain repeated again and again like a cruel time loop. I did not want to shackle Guy, lord Maestro--I wanted to release him so he can rejoin us as fellow thralls of the Devil--and his only family left.

"If you truly see him as his father, then I give you full permission as his Captain to see him. Mayhaps you can be the one to convince him to stop his path of self-destruction. Though I will warn you this--he is as hardheaded as he is softhearted. Sometimes words intended for one part of him will go through the other, either hurting him or those close to him. And it's very easy to do either or.

"He is fiery, Maestro, in every definition in existence. A single wrong word may spark a great uncontrollable flame. Are you willing to step into the Hell Guy Duchamp eternally bound himself to?"

[galushanationalrailways]

The Fraggle Rock Story Ch. 15

Chapter 15: Sweet Eternity

Red had been knocked to the ground twice, had been drenched with water twice, had gone over a waterfall once, and had slept the previous night in a washtub. And yet this was the least of her problems. Seeing Mokey again, being held again, that was both the best and worst thing that had happened to her today.

Little did she know that, back in her own house, Mokey was thinking more or less the same thing. Try as she might to be happy, she could not help but feel something like a torch, burning the inside of her with a bright and scarlet flame. She knew what she had to do, and that was to leave Red’s general vicinity as quickly as possible. She decided rather quickly to become a romantic wanderer, as Cantus had been, but to travel alone. That made things twice as romantic.

Red remembered about this time that the only real cause of all her misery was that she had lied to Mokey. “But if I tell her the truth,” she thought, “she’ll know just how much I endangered her.”

“It’s all my fault,” thought Mokey, “she always made me feel safe and I had to go fall in love with her and endanger her. And now I’ve lied, made up a whole male version of her… Well, wandering won’t be so bad.”

“But I’ll always love her,” they both thought. “If only she knew… but it wouldn’t change a thing.”

Then Red, for once in this sorry tale, had a somewhat intelligent thought. “But what if she does love me? What if the only way I hurt her was by lying? I gotta go tell her… my brain won’t leave me alone if I don’t. She’ll probably hate me, but it’s the only way.” She limped onward to Mokey’s house.

When she arrived, Mokey was beginning to pack her things. She had placed Lanford on a wheeled cart and had put all of her mystical paraphernalia in various satchels. She also assembled a bindle which contained a stash of some very potent grasses Pa Gorg grew for medicinal purposes. She noticed a few tears escaping her eyes but decided not to sob or even sigh. She was going to leave her life behind.

“Mokey, what are you doing?” Mokey jumped, then turned around and saw that it was Red.

“Red, what are you doing?” she replied. “Er—doing here, I mean.”

“I need to talk with you.”

“About what?”

“I’ve lied to you, Mokey. I’ve told such horrible lies—about poor Gobo, about everything!”

“What do you mean? What is there to lie about?”

“I—I’m not in love with him!”

“Nonsense! I heard you kiss him while I was standing outside your door. You called him your darling, you called him hot stuff, a beautiful creature, a great big hunk of Fragglehood, a wild, impetuous boy, and then you said you loved him five times!

“You sure have some memory,” said Red. “But the truth is—wait, what’s with the suitcases? What’s with this weed bindle? Where are you going?”

“Who knows?” said Mokey. “I’ve decided to become a romantic wanderer, for a change.”

“You mean you’re leaving—forever?”

“Yes. It’s the only way. It’s safer—now that Rod’s out of the picture.”

“Oh, Mokey, can’t you understand? I don’t love Gobo, he was just trying to pour love potion down the drain and some of it got on him and I lost control and kissed him and I didn’t even want to! And I lied because otherwise you might be horribly angry with me and never want to even look at me again!”

“But why not?”

Red began to cry large, hot tears. “Because I—I—I--”

“Because you what?”

“Because I love you, Mokey!” Mokey gasped.

“You love me?”

“Yes.”

“And you thought I’d—turn you away—if you told me? So you lied?”

“Yes, Mokey, I did. I figured it would be best to--”

“You lied to me!” cried Mokey. “You had no idea how much I dreamed of you saying that you loved me, night and day, hour after hour just pining after you, yearning and yearning! You had no idea how I would lie awake at night, feeling you snuggled up against me, tortured because I thought you didn’t love me like I loved you, in absolute anguish—absolute anguish because I thought that through my love, I might only hurt you, only bring you pain, and now you show up, just as I’m about to go out as a romantic wanderer, and you tell me that you felt the exact same as I did, felt the same feelings that I felt and hurt the same way that I hurt and that you lied to me because you couldn’t believe that you, the nicest, handsomest fraggle on the entire rock could possibly be the object of my unworthy affections! You didn’t know how much I cared, endlessly, endlessly—you couldn’t believe it! And now look what a mess we’re both in—I love you, you love me, I’m all packed up to go, you—you lied—and, honestly, Red, I don’t know whether to kiss you right now for loving me or—or throw you out forever for… for lying…”

“Do what you want,” said Red. “I’m sorry…” Mokey picked her up and kissed her a second after.

“Oh, Red, I could never throw you out—never…” she said at the end of the kiss. “I love you so much I can hardly see right now…”

“What about Rod?”

“That’s right. It would really be hypocritical to throw you out—I lied too. There is no Rod. Or there is. He’s you.”

“He’s me?”

“Yes, he’s you. I just named all the characteristics of my ideal lover and put them into a man for a change. I guess, after all that dramatic talk, I was the same as you. Oh, I’m so sorry, Red, can you ever forgive me?”

“Can you forgive me?” “Yes.”

“Then kiss me again--” and they did. Nine seconds passed. Then ten. This was no kiss goodnight, this was something different. “Eleven…” Red gurgled, forgetting that she really couldn’t speak when her mouth was so intertwined with that of another. “Eleven...” Eventually, they lost count of the seconds altogether. They did not need the clock to deny their love anymore, they had admitted it.

“Oh, Red, never leave me again,” said Mokey after the withdrawl. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and then whatever comes after that—I want to hold you for a thousand sweet eternities, a million eons, through all the ages time has ever known or will know, through--”

“I never will—never.”

“Oh, swear it!”

“Weeba weeba woffa woffa garpox gumbage--” Before she could finish, they were kissing again.

[wastedxstardust]

CALM AND STILL, COLD AND PALE. I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU. I WILL ALWAYS NEED YOU. THIS IS HOW TO LOVE YOU, IT’S RIGID AND STIFF. WHITE AND GREY, IN A DAZE.

⭐ Skeleton | Pinterest | Spotify | Aesthetic Board ⭐

⭐ BASICS ⭐

Name: Bramble Rose

Age: Unknown

Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Cis Woman, She/her, Pansexual

Species: Small Folk

Relationship status: Single

Positive traits: Intelligent, daring, loyal, passionate, & clever

Negative traits: Stubborn, compulsive, vindictive, obsessive, & melancholic

Aesthetics: hands coated in ash, the keening of a mourning lover, sleepless nights, a heavy head resting on a cold chest, the crack of thunder before a storm, and foolish hope in the face of despair.

⭐ Headcanons ⭐

Long before the winter that plagued Neverland and well before the fire, Bramble Rose was full of light. Rarely seen without a smile she found joy in even the smallest of things. All that knew her, knew that she was pure sunshine, but all that changed when she lost everything. Her friends, her home, her love... Some days she is filled with so much grief she's certain it will kill her while on others she can feel nothing but rage. Rage toward Peter for failing to keep them safe. Rage towards Hook and his men for taking everything she held dear, but most days she feels guilt. Perhaps if she hadn't been away things would have been different. Yes, the fire still would have taken their home and lives still would have been lost, but maybe Thistle would still be here. Maybe they would have escaped together or at the very least perished side by side. Though she will never admit it aloud, she wishes she had been lost too. At least them she wouldn't be forced to live with nothing but memories to keep her company.

There are nights where she wakes choking on smoke. It isn't real, of course. Just a memory made tangible for a moment. It's those nights that her deceased Thistle is most restless. She can hear him whispering to her in the dark, but despite how hard she tries, she can't seem to understand what is being said. Instead, she sits with him and comforts him like a mother would a frightened child. Sometimes, she can even close her eyes and pretend that those gossamer messages aren't said in fear or despair but with love. Little promises of a life that will never be.

Though she doesn't act on it, she loathes Peter and wishes she could make him suffer like she has. Sometimes she sits hidden in the treetops and watches him, wishing she could take what he loves most in this world. She will never act on it, of course. Even she knows Peter has his uses. Instead, she takes it out on his little Lost Boys. Nothing too serious, mind you. Just cruel little tricks until the anger she feels subsides. Her rage isn't directed at just Peter, however, but at Hook and his men. All except for one.

After losing Thistle, Bramble Rose found life to be dull. For what felt like an eternity nothing brought her joy. Not playing tricks on those lost boys or exploring the lands. Her days were spent in her new home beside her love. She would talk to him often and though she could have sworn that she heard the occasional response, it just wasn't the same. The hand she held was no longer warm and the smile that once set her heart ablaze was gone replaced by a opened mouth expression. Only in her dreams was Thistle as he once was. So full of light and love. There she could hear his contagious laugh as they danced beneath the stars or feel the warmth on his breath on the crook of her neck during those delicious nights where they spent their time exploring each other's bodies instead of sleeping. Unfortunately, those dreams never stayed just dreams. Too often they would warp and burn. The warmth of his body against hears would grow, scorching hot until she could nothing but stand there in the flames, watching as he succumbed not to fire but smoke. It was torture and night after night she found herself wishing that she could follow him to the other side. A feeling she almost acted on.

Unable to take it anymore, she had forced herself out of the house, fully intending on following Thistle to the other side. It was then, by pure chance that she found him again. She watched from the the treetops as Hook and his men trampled through the forest, caring little for whatever was crushed beneath their feet. At first, the sight filled her with that now all too familiar rag, but then she spotted him. She didn't recognize him at first. His body was different, bigger, but his eyes... She could see him hidden in those eyes, but how? Had he come back for her? She followed him them, flitting from tree to tree, desperate to get a better look. Then she found herself returning to him time and time again. She knew it was dangerous. Hook and his men had no qualms with killing the Little Folk, this much they had already proven, but she could not help it. She needed to know how it was possible for him to return to her, and for those little moments she could steal around him, she felt hope. Foolish lovesick hope.

[thatnerduknow98]

“Quick! Put your fake pointy ears and vampire teeth on!” Satan shouted at his minions.

He grabbed the trash bin next to his throne and scattered the debris across the room. Then he set the curtains aflame.

“Dude, why are you freaking out?” A minion called Chad asked.

“Because, bruh, He’s coming down today. He thinks this place is an eternal flame pit of pain and suffering that he damns the bad souls too.”

Chad was perplexed. “Bruh… What?”

Satan momentarily stopped shredding his bearskin rug, threw his head back and sighed. “Look, I begged for equality once and he damned me here. It was already a clusterfuck dumpster fire when I arrived. I wallowed in my guilt and misery for a while, but then when other souls started arriving I decided He was unfair, unjust, and quite frankly I don’t want to torture people. Sure, if they want to set their own lives aflame and go down like a burning circus tent, I’m gonna make some popcorn and watch — I mean, who wouldn’t? — but I’m not gonna light the tent.”

Chad furrowed his ephemeral brow. “That’s absurd. So He made a place that burns forever and then sent you to rule it and hurt others?”

Satan nodded. “Yeah. But if he knows I’ve cleaned it up a lot and actually made it somewhere Earth like, where souls can be truly free of anything, even consequences, and can roam peacefully, he’s gonna make a second hell even worse than his original and damn us all there.”

“So you’re fucking up your haven because you don’t want him to destroy it,” Chad said smugly.

“Well, only the part where the unjustly damned go. The actual hellraisers on Earth are locked away in an actual fire pit with heavy chains, way underneath my castle. Now get off your lazy bro ass and help me!”

The two worked diligently to tear apart the meticulously crafted wallpaper and tapestries. Outside, throughout all of Hell, word was spreading about how God was coming to damn them all a second time, this time to an actual awful place. Minions put on fake wings and pointed ears, grabbed pitchforks and apologized to the souls prior to beginning to spike them with their farming tools. The souls forgave them and played along.

Other souls wailed horrendous sounds. The three headed dogs, understanding what was happening, stopped being cuddly and barked, growled and hissed. The cats — well, they weren’t always friendly anyway. Only the friendly cats go to heaven.

God arrived with a thunderous boom. Satan met him with the same flair, and a little bit of sarcasm.

“Hi DAD. How are things in your cloudy fake paradise?” Satan shouted.

God squinted his eyes at the devil and then looked around. “My angels tell me there has been less wailing than normal. I am here to ensure you are doing your part in keeping my universe balanced.”

“Balance, shmalance,” Satan replied. He lit a cigarette. “Earth is for balance. Hell is for chaos.”

God floated his way around Satan’s palace and stopped at the large arched (now broken) windows behind the throne. He looked out to see every minion and soul playing some kind of fake torture game.

“Your minions aren’t as vicious as I expected them to be,” he commented.

“They suffice,” Satan said through gritted teeth.

God whipped around. “You wanted to be my equal so I gave you a world to rule in the monstrous way that you are!”

“I just wanted to be your equal, not cause pain! I was an angel before I was this!” Satan shouted. “Equality is not evil.”

“What if you made your souls and minions equal to you? Then what?” God retorted.

“I know what! Everyone leaves everyone alone!” Satan shouted back.

Chad, who was standing in the corner silently, chimed in quietly, “We minions are content to remain in our positions of torturers. We have no desire to do anything more.”

Satan cooled himself off. He took Chad’s hint to shut up before he blew everything. “You’re heaven can’t be that great. We’ve seen how fucked up your Earth has become. What good could human souls do in your clouds? Or do they, too, have clouded vision?”

“They know no pain,” God said. “They know true peace. It is their reward. Your souls are to know only pain and suffering.”

“But they get bored I bet,” Satan replied. “At least down here the souls aren’t bored. You know what happens when people are bored? They act out. Then you have to damn them.”

God sighed. “Perhaps it is true I’ve had to damn a few more souls after they’ve reached heaven.”

“I know, they’ve told me,” Satan said. “They tell me all about how Heaven was like a vacation at first, but then became hell like after because there was nothing to be done. Down here, we do everything.”

God returned to his thunderous cloud. “I know what you’ve done, Lucifer, and I am angry. You have sucked more life to your Earth-like afterlife than I have gotten in years. And you’re not even torturing them. My souls in heaven are ready to leave, to return to work and the vices that grip them.”

“To be fair, dude,” Chad interrupted. “We do torture the truly bad people. The Bin Ladens and the Andrew Jacksons, and the school shooters are locked away in chains down under. But you damn a lot of people here who really don’t deserve to be here.”

God zapped Chad. Lucifer sighed.

“This is why I go against you, Dad, because you punish people for calling you out on your wrongs. You fucking hypocrite. Leave my realm. Go to Heaven for all I care.”

Satan’s usually pretty chill in the way he runs Hell. Today he’s scrambling to make it look as miserable as possible because God is soon to visit

[cannibalirba]

The lowest state that can be reached

_ 10 _

[ 30/09/24 ]

I fell from the sky, but I don't remember how or when, i feel my wings burning, as if fire was born from within me.

The pain is barely bearable enough to keep me standing, i try to stand but I faint with each attempt.

Each feather is a cry, a plea, but not of regret... it is the desire,  that consumes me, that drags me.

I don't know how I got to this, how I went from innocence to greed.

But I guess the day has come, I'm going to pay for my pleasure, so selfish and so mine.

I just know that every time I closed my eyes and I let myself go, the pleasure was so intense that I believed, for a second, that my death would be worth it.

But now my being is burning.

and with each of the thoughts that I had searching for the forbidden, i feel the fire running through my body more and more.

The Tatar is coming.

I know, i can feel it.

He calls me.

His shadows touch my feet.

He whispered my options, and yet, it is so difficult for me to decide.

"What is insignificant? Descending on my slope or continue with this ordeal in your wings, burning you inside and out? I inform you, my misguided cherub, that by simply considering the fact of continuing with that idyllic torture, even though it is not eternal, you are approaching the lowest state to which you can be degraded."

"To the lowest state to which I can be demoted?"

"The lowest state..."

I wanted it out loud and the desire was so much that there was no room left in me for another emotion.

My soul twists, not of guilt, but of longing. 

I want more, although I know it is ephemeral, Although I know that every delight is just a mirage, a flash that burns quickly and goes out.

"The feeling of feeling nothing is not at all comparable to the feeling of feeling everything even for a couple of seconds, my lord."

I drowned my head in the hot floor, lust consumed my body so much that it felt like burying my head in ice, I think tears began to well up in my eyes too, desperation is eating me with every passing second.

"Splendid sobs that taste a trifle of joy."

He looked at me with pity, but, for some strange reason, I thought I saw a smile when he finished saying that.

I looked at him begging for forgiveness that I knew would never come.

But...

What can I do? 

If I choose to resign, I will live with these flames always burning, sometimes I will be able to feel the sky, but other times I will be without touching them, without even feeling them. 

I will be a burning angel without a reason, without consolation, tormented by the absence of immortal joy.

What do I have left? Sin until the end, knowing that everything ends, that nothing is eternal, neither the pleasure I long for nor the punishment I deserve

Or stop sinning and be devoured by this desire, living in an eternity of emptiness, with flames on my wings, without the relief of burning completely?

I am lost.

Desire consumes me, but the idea of ​​giving up those seconds of pleasure...

It's destroying my being, I don't even know if I'm still a cherub at all.

And while I debate, my wings continue to burn, And he watches patiently, as if he could wait for my word for thousands of aprils, or as if he already knows what will come from my lips.