#prayers out to his family

[maegalkarven]

An interlude. What now?

Happens between Empty Prayers and Dreams of Red.

Nemo tries to be serious and Think of the Future. It backfires.

Characters: Dark Urge (Nemo), Enver Gortash, Astarion, Karlach, Wyll, Shadowheart, Gale, Lae'zel.

TW: mentions of cannibalism, questionable way to raise children (Nemo wtf), canon-typical Durge behavior.

Info about Nemo's assassins:

https://www.tumblr.com/maegalkarven/732101148639707136/so-i-actually-created-most-of-the-notable?source=share

"You do realize we all are doomed, right?" The question comes out of nowhere amidst of one of the calmest nights they have. It breaks the feeble illusion of peace right away.

"Now, you don't have to put it like that," Gale tries. "We still have some choices-"

"Blowing yourself up is not a choice," Wyll cuts out, uncharacteristically sour.

"But-"

"No, Gale," Shadowheart agrees. "No more stupid self-sacrifices for the gods who do not deserve that. Besides, you remember what Gortash said? What if you have done as Mystra wanted you to and detonated the orb in the illithid colony, it would turn every parasite-infested person into mindflayer?"

"I'm not sure how much we can trust a word of the former Chosen of Bane."

"Fair," the former Chosen of Shar agrees. "I wouldn't trust him either. But something tells me this time he was telling the truth."

"He also sits just across you, if your memory is that fragile," Gortash comments. "And thank you, not like I was thinking of impending doom and our deaths for every hour of every day now."

"Not like you kickstarted this whole event," Karlach comments.

"And what would you have me to do, let Orin kill Nemo?"

"Well, you could have not tried to conquer the world using the extremely dangerous magical artifact and, you know, the Elder Brain."

"You keep saying that, but I have yet to hear a single idea how to fix it and for us, you know, not die drastically and like fools."

"Everyone always dies like a fool," Astarion comments. "Death is dumb like that."

"If you'd only let me finish," Nemo raises his voice. "And stopped this 'woe are us, we are doomed' crying-"

"We are listening," Wyll tries. "Oh, well, at least I am trying to."

Nemo sends him a grateful look.

"Alright, let's start it anew, you literal bickering children-"

"Hey-"

"Gortash started it-"

"Oh, fuck off-"

"Quiet," and surprisingly, they all quiet down. This is who Nemo is forced to work with these days. Unbelievable.

"We are screwed. This is not me being overly dramatic, this is not me being pessimistic, this is the actual truth we're dealing with. The Elder brain has one stone and if it wasn't breaking out of the hold before - which he was, very much - it's clearly out of it now. Now, the questions why it hasn't turned everyone into mindflayers and why it's playing laying low for now is a mystery, but-“

"It's luring us back to it," Astarion comments. "What? Can't we offer our thoughts too? I didn't know it's One Man show you're having here."

"You have no idea how many people have been stabbed over interrupting him mid speech," Gortash comments. "Me included."

"Oh yeah, well, maybe try to not talk over me, asho-"

"I wasn't talking over you-"

"Just like you aren't doing it now?" Nemo glares at him. "You're lucky I need you alive."

"Thank you oh so kindly, the gracious one-"

"Tsk'va," Lae'zel interrupts the quarrel. "You two desire to tear into each other’s flesh so much it makes you stupid. Go get the urges out of the system and come back when you're capable of being rational."

This comment, made with intention of calming things down, has rather the opposite effect.

"You're the one to talk," Nemo hisses as his face reddens.

"I do not ‘desire to tear into his flesh’," Gortash argues.

Astarion laughs.

"Yes, and I am not a vampire spawn."

"Can we not fight?" Wyll, an unfortunate voice of reason amidst this chaos.

"Oh, I don't know," Gale smirks. "I rather find it amusing to watch."

"You know what?" Nemo snaps. "Go on, detonate this orb. I'm done with it."

"Now I'm not going to, purposely because you asked me so nicely."

"I fucking hate this family."

"Karlach, you already said that."

"It doesn't mean I hate it any less."

"I miss my children," Nemo suddenly chimes in. "They listened to me."

"Your who?"

"Oh, please," Gortash snorts. "I once saw one of your children stab her brother over something minor."

"It was their brother and it was nothing minor. He took their target, that's just rude."

"I'm sorry," Gale tries. "Can we backtrack now? What children are you talking about now?"

Nemo blinks at them.

"Oh," he exclaims. "My assassins, of course, the ones I personally brought into the fold."

"And the reason you address them as children is because..?"

"They were orphans Nemo picked up from the streets," Gortash mentions. "At least that's what I was told."

"Excuse me, what?" Karlach, indignation flaring with her fire. "You stole children?"

"First of all, it's kidnapped and not stole. Second of all, they came willingly," Nemo scoffs. "And really, do you think they had any other choice? Do you think any good life was waiting for them? I saved their lives."

"You've abducted children into the cult and made them killers," Wyll speaks. "Nemo, this is-"

"Wrong?" He interrupts. "How wrong can it truly be? They would die without me, or better yet, get killed. Do you think there's mercy for a girl who took a life of her stepfather? Whose mother blamed her for the murder even if said stepfather was in dire need of killing?" He pierces Wyll with a sharp stare.

"Do you think Flaming Fists would save a little tiefling boy with too much magic in his blood? Do you think they'd get to the mad crowd in time and protect the boy from it? Do you think they'd even care?  A tiefling child, an evil child, a hellspawn. No one would miss him, no one would cry for him. And," he smiles and this smile looks poisonous.

"Do you think your honorable father would spare a child whose survival was linked to the deal with the fiend? Do you think he, who exiled his own son, would look at destruction of the House Et'rris, at the only surviving its member, linked to a devil, and help them? Save them?" His voice drops to a low tone.

"How dare you judge me? You were not there to save these children, I was. What did I do but gave them a second chance? What did I do but gave them home? Where else would they go? Who else would feed starving orphans on the streets, Duke Ravengard?" He laughs an ugly, bitter laugh.

"The Council of Four? Don't be ridiculous, they never even looked down to see the low folk struggling. Those children, all those children would die if not for me. From the so-called justice, from an angry mob, from prison, from starvation. I found them, fed them, cared for them. I made them best of the best, the perfect murderers, the perfect shadows of the night. And who can hurt them now, when they're the worst things haunting Baldur's Gate? Who would dare to strike at them but their own? I made them strong."

The stunned, eerie silence falls over the camp.

Then Karlach raises her voice.

"What did you feed them with?"

"This is irrelevant."

"No, it's not."

"It was a good meat: not rotten, not touched by any diseases, I even cooked it-"

"I fed children the human flesh?!" Gale asks in horror.

"Of course you'd assume it was human," Nemo scoffs. "It was elven too, you know. Some dwarf meat, even halfling or tiefling there and there-"

"You did what?!"

"It was that or starving on the streets! And anyway, I was fed humanoid flesh my entire life and I turned out alright-"

Astarion scoots a little closer to Gortash.

"He did not turn out alright," the pale elf whispers, watching the argument rising to new, dangerous heights. "And you knew that, didn't you?"

"What Nemo eats flesh?" Gortash hums. "It wasn't a big secret."

"And what he feeds his...children the same?"

"It's a Cult of Murder," the man shrugs. "One expects some level of atrocities from it."

"That's not the answer."

"That's the one you'll get," Astarion watches Gortash watching Nemo, a small satisfies smile dancing on his lips. "I don't particularly care what he feeds his assassins, only what all of them seem to care very little for table manners."

"So I'm guessing you've met them?"

"Yes."

"...What are they like?"

"Why don't you ask their benefactor that and not the man who saw them once or twice?"

"Because their benefactor is currently in a screaming match with our companions," Astarion's shrugs. "Though he seems to be holding his ground just alright."

Gortash snorts.

"He used to lead fifty or so bloodthirsty murderers and made it look easy," another long, heavy look at Nemo. "He is good at handling people. Bhaal convinced Nemo the best thing a bhaalshapwn can be is a perfect blade, which is a shame, really. Nemo would do wonders in high court; he has enough charisma and intelligence to wrap the nobles around his fingers without them so much as noticing it.”

"It sounds like you admire him," Astarion comments, trying very hard not to feel slighted at that. Of course tyrant admires his nearest in dearest, it was to be expected. And anyway, doesn’t Nemo deserve to be admired?

But why does it sit so ill against his skin?

"Of course I admire him," the tyrant replies, not even looking away from the assassin. "He is brilliant. His part in our plans is not to be overlooked; everything came falling apart the moment Orin replaced him. Bhaal might have been content with a mad woman who could not control her urges, but our plan could not. She made a mess of things, ruined several of carefully constructed plans and hadn't even noticed. The amount of people I had to tadpole simply because Orin was acting unwise is-" he sighs. "Where Nemo would just waltz into the room, smile and bullshit his way through everything, Orin made things worse."

Astarion hums.

"I once saw Nemo convince an orthon to kill his minions, then his pet, then himself," he mentions. "So I can easily see him doing that."

"An orthon?" Gortash looks surprised. "Where in the Nine Hells did you find an orthon?"

"In a Gauntlet of Shar," Astarion shrugs. "He made an ill-fitted deal with Raphael and tried to get out of it. Nemo tricked him into false getaway."

Three's a long silence after that.

"Raphael," Gortash speaks slowly, as if tasting the words. "It's been a while since I've heard that name. How did you stumble into him?"

"More like he stumbled into us. He appeared from the thin air, laid heavy on those sweet talks of his and tried to talk Nemo into a deal. Probably still trying, all things considered. I am not sure what exactly he wants from Nemo, but he is insistent."

Gortash grows silent once more.

"I would advise against strikingly any deals with that particular devil," he comments after a pause. "Deals with him are even fouler than the deal with the devil would be expected to be. Raphael is clever; he is patient and knows how to play the game. Worst of all, he is at advantage of knowing Nemo while Nemo does not know him, and in the position where he is holding a grudge against the dear assassin of mine."

Astarion bites down the bitter taste of the way Gortash claims Nemo as his.

This can wait. His questions would not.

"Why would he hold a grudge against Nemo?"

Gortash actually laughs, a short lived and curt sound, but laugh none less.

"Because Nemo has done something Raphael failed to do. Raphael has been lusting after the Crown of Karsus for millennia, but was never able to relieve it from Mephistopheles' vault. Together Nemo and I successfully orchestrated and executed the plan what brought the crown into our hands."

So this is what Raphael wants.

"He is after the crown," Astarion comment. "And he thinks Nemo will be able to get it for him."

Gortash nods.

"And I can't express enough how this is absolutely a thing what cannot happen. Raphael is bad enough without a otherworldly power what is the Crown of Karsus in his claws."

"So," Astarion studies the man closely. "Better the crown in your hands then?"

Gortash smiles.

"Providing what we can get it off Elder Brain first and live," he comments. "But yes."

[awakefor48hours]

How does Catholicism work in the Black Clover universe? I don’t think we’ll ever get an answer about this but what is a God in a world of magic? People coming back from the dead? Walking on water? This is normal.

[nico-di-angelfish]

i just finished reading the world according to garp and oh my god. what a book! so now i immediately have to read everything else john irving has ever written

[margaritalaux-antille]

thinking about Her in these trying times. is she still alive? if she's alive I need a scene between her and nat more than i need air. did she die in the intervening years? did she die while they were in the wilderness?? i genuinely don't know what would be worse but i need to know. I NEED TO SEE HER.

[ghostly-wisteria-tea]

I have this morbid idea, for 616 Marc to spread his "madness".

Like his new friends? I keep seeing how much they mirror Marc's own history of finding a purpose. And I have this funny prompt where it affected the familial relationship of all of them.

It's a weird turn, where things went to a bit dramatic. There is no magic or space mumbo jumbo. It's a bit more grounded than my previous posts.

Warning, it's a bit...not exactly hunky dory. It's actually pretty bad in a way. I'm weird like that.

Badr tried to stop Marc since it clear that Khonshu is not happy at both of them. But Marc roped him to ignore Khonshu's orders. This made Badr uneasy but he trusts his brother's word more, so he donned the suit again. Until he keeps falling on his face for no reason and the statue in his office suddenly cracks and exploded. Showing that Khonshu is not pleased with him even more.

Now he got a full-on mental breakdown and end up choosing to go to Wakanda and get some spiritual training from the head priestess of Bast.

T'challa noticed that Khonshu is acting more and more like how Bast would act so he contacted the head Priestess in his home, but she refused to leave. Saying that if they truly want her help, then they should put the effort to actually seek her than have everything given in a platter like they are babies.

Marc is still in denial about Khonshu firing them and is a bit upset that Badr left. Blaming it on Khonshu.

Reese's own studies start to get compromised as she is get more and more worried about Marc, and her parents start questioning her devotion to Marc. She doesn't realize as she is getting more and more distant from them. Her family chose to respect her privacy and they didn't say anything since Marc seams to be good for her.

At least, at the beginning.

Now they are noticing Reese barely stays in the house anymore and they can feel this uneasiness every time she leaves.

Reese fights back, defending that she is much safer with Marc. This results in a rift with her family.

Her father eventually got targeted by one of the angry gangs Marc pissed off. And Reese end up getting kicked out when she lost her temper and attacked her mother when the woman blamed Marc for getting her husband's legs broken.

Her mother though, didn't turn to a vampire. No one noticed as they are too busy trying to stop the bleeding from Reese's claws. This is another one of Khonshu's doing, but he didn't show himself nor demand that Reese's mother become a priestess. Just reversed the vampirism.

They just wave it off as being very lucky.

Reese eventually moved back with her parents. But there is a permanent cold wall as her parents now see her as less of a daughter and more of a stranger who can kill them anytime.

The only reason they accepted her back is that they Marc talked to them, and expresses his disappointment at them for making Reese sad. Though it's more like an intimidating threat since he is in a bad mood and is subconciously finding anything to get angry at. Even if he tries to be polite, there is an undertone of uncontrollable anger there.

To which Reese's actual father ask why Marc is acting more like Reese's father now, expressing how distant and disconnected Reese have become ever since she started working for Marc. Almost as if she don't see them as her parents anymore.

They tried to explain the attacks, threats and dangers they have been experiencing as someone manages to trace them after they saw Reese staying with Marc for months.

Marc tries to assure that he will do anything to protect them, but they don't believe him anymore. Especially after the news that he is no longer Moon Knight and don't have the protection of a god.

Eventually, they decided to move away as it is too dangerous for them anymore. And that Marc seems to be doing a better job of being a parent to Reese, so they just gave up.

They explain that Reese can go with them or stay with Marc. She chooses Marc and expresses how disappointed she is on her family for choosing to move. Calling them cowards.

Reese's parents remind her that they are ordinary people, not mercenaries and have no knowledge on how to fight. And as much as they love New York, they will just end up dead. Reese tries to reason that Marc won't let it happen, but then they point out that they can see that Reese is starting to have this semi-blind devotion on Marc. One that they are very worried about, but they know that they can't win against the Midnight Mission. And that they can't always depend on Marc for protection all the time like he is some god

It ends in a fight, but Reese was suddenly blown a few feet behind before she did a fatal blow on both her parents.

Reese then explode on how they are useless, ungrateful sh*ts. And how Marc is way better as he actually did something to help, giving her a job and helping her with her new powers, unlike her parents who only acted distant and expressed disappointment.

There is now a silent agreement that they will never talk to each other again as she pretty much rejected her birth family and chose a new one.

Then she realizes what she said to her parents, and greatly regrets it. To cope with that, Reese practically devotes all her energy to Marc. Mostly cursing her parents for not understanding Marc the same way she does, while trying very hard to not hate or blame herself. For both attacking her parents and saying those things.

Edit:She eventually dropped put of college to work at the Midnight Mission fulltime. Moving into the hotel, refusing to set foot on her old now empty house that only gives her bad memories of a life she left behind. And like Marc, she buries herself in doing Marc's work until it is starting to weight down on her as she refuses to make amends with her past.

And since she doesn't have the backing of a god, (or one she can just put all the blame on since she willingly accepted Marc's help by her own accord) she got in too far with a job that is too dangerous, went full Vampire crazy as a last resort, and eventually failed a mission that got more innocent people killed.

This mirror's Marc turning away from his birth father Elias and picking Khonshu as his new "father".

Soldier's mother's illness is getting worst, he copes by attaching himself to Marc more and more. Pretty much to a point of co-dependence that is getting eerily similar to Marc's unhealthy dependence on Khonshu.

He eventually decided to try and turn his mother to a vampire to stop the cancer. Though Marc told him it is a horrible idea, but this did not stop his anxiety. If anything, it made it worst since as a vampire, he is practically immortal while his mortal family/friends will all die and leave him. A fact that Soldier is still having a hard time accepting, and chooses to ignore it as much as he can.

By burying himself on Marc's work to forget his problems, just like Marc himself.

It reached a point that he start slowly having suicidal tendencies when he would rescue others. Since he can no longer die like a normal person, he would chase after death recklessly at the guise of altruistic behavior so that one day, he will die, be free of this curse that is immortality, and be at peace like his mortal family.

His mother eventually starts to ask if Soldier will keep staying with Marc, as she can feel herself dying and wants to spend the last moments of her life with her son. Soldier though, have grown way, way too dependent on Marc's presence and would leave before he got an emotional panic attack, saying that he can't leave Marc alone to suffer. When in actuality he is the one suffering inside as he stays further away from his emotional rock called "Marc Spector". That and he is still feeling guilty at the fact that his mother is dying while he is practically immortal.

Soldier's mother does explain that she is glad that Soldier have someone to look up to, but it seems that it is only creating a bigger rift between them as while Soldier was a henchman, he wasn't emotionally attached to his old boss. But now he is an emotionally dependent acolyte, and his mother can see it as her grandfather used to be a fanatical member of a doomsday cult in the mid-west.

She easily noticed that Soldier would sound like her grandfather when the man would talk about Marc. And this only alarms her even more as her grandfather once tried to kill his wife to "save" her. All she can do is pray to anyone listening, that her son will be safe, loose his unhealthy dependency and come back to his senses.

Someone is actually listening in the shadows.

Tigra's son starts to notice his mother's growing fixation on Marc, and feels a bit bothered at how her mother is trying to push Marc to be a new father figure to him. Even bringing the boy to the Midnight Mission one night to visit. William is just too polite to voice it out, but he can feel something wrong in the air inside the building, like someone telling him to leave. Yet everyone tries to act like it fine.

William is intuitive enough to see that they are all lying.

He is also seeing less and less of his own mother as she spends more time taking care of Marc.

Tigra hopes to get a solid relationship with Marc but it just won't reach that point of perfect commitment so she keeps trying and refuses to give up. But she doesn't see that she is slowly starting to leave her son behind in her endeavours.

William also tries to investigate about his father more, but Tigra changes the subject and tries to get him close to Marc. To keep them distracted as Marc is starting to get more anxiety attacks as the truth starts to officially sink in.

Eventually, William got tired of his mother constantly pushing Marc that he starts to cry at night. Wishing to have his old mother back, before Marc got her attention more. Creating this emotional rift where he asks to be dropped off at the daycare instead than stay at home. Hiding everything behind a smile but slowly breaking inside.

One night when he got tired of his mother pinning on Marc almost to a delusional degree. Even he is starting noticing this and decided to wandered into the streets just to get away. Deliberately getting lost for hours since he knows that his mother is too focused on Marc the entire night to even call anymore. Which got even worse when Marc died as Tigra practically became distant towards Wiliam. Choosing to be silent to avoid lashing on to her own son. But to William, it's like his mother was replaced with someone else.

William even nearly getting targeted by thugs. Said thugs would suddenly find themselves sucked backwards by a strong wind and get impaled with some metal rod stick that just so happens to be on the right spot.

William then found himself wandering back on his home unscathed, even though he really didn't know where he is going and was just following the lit streetlamps, unaware that he was nearly attacked.

Later in the day, street officers went to fix the streetlamps that were actually broken for 3 days straight.

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[nomaishuttle]

its literally so insane that my brother has like parents who arent young like thats insane... they were 34 when they had him... they were 20 when they had me which like isnt Insanely young but its still young yk. young enough that ppl r like Omg yr parents r so young ! when i say how old they are... but theyre gonna be 40 next year WHICH IS CRAZY. 40 year old parents hes like a kid from a disney channel show.

[jay-wasreblogging]

@buddhistmusings something I thought would be interesting for you to read and perhaps touch on.

Before Williams was executed, his attorney, Tricia Rojo Bushnell, issued the below statement: “Tonight, Missouri will execute an innocent man, Marcellus “Khaliifah” Williams. The victim’s family opposes his execution. Jurors, who originally sentenced him to death, now oppose his execution. The prosecutor’s office that convicted and sentenced him to death has now admitted they were wrong and zealously fought to undo the conviction and save Mr. Williams’ life. More than one million concerned citizens and faith leaders implored Governor Parson to commute Marcellus’s death sentence. Missouri will kill him anyway. “That is not justice. And we must all question any system that would allow this to occur. The execution of an innocent person is the most extreme manifestation of Missouri’s obsession with ‘finality’ over truth, justice, and humanity, at any cost."

Edit: he was a poet.

[imperiuswrecked]

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian babies that were left to starve to death then rot in their beds by the IOF.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian doctors surrounded by bodies of dead children begging the world to stop the slaughter.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian children who held a press conference in English to beg the world to stop murdering them because they want to live.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian Priest who said "We will not accept your apology after the genocide" to the world.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian Imam who used the speakers of the Mosque, not to call people to prayer but to call out to God while the world around them was burning from American supplied Israeli bombs.

I'm never forgetting the grandfather who held his dead grandchild in his arms. Or the father carrying the remains of his two children in plastic shopping bags. Or the mother holding her dead child in a shroud. Or the father sitting among the rubble after he lost his whole family. Or the girl trapped under a broken building begging for people to save her family first. Or the boy who cried when he saw his brother alive. Or the girl who asked if she was still alive after being pulled from the rubble. Or the boy who carried the remains of his brother in his backpack. Or the old man the IOF used for a photoshoot before they shot him dead after getting pictures. Or the little boy wearing plastic gloves to pick up the remains of his family. Or the graves desecrated. Or the body of that small baby girl left alone in a tent because no one knew who she was or if her family was alive, small and alone and not one person who knew her name to bury her. Or the young boy who was shot in the street while his sister watched from the window. Or the men and boys who were stripped naked in winter. Or those tortured. Or those made to stand in open graves. Or the people who were raped by IOF soldiers. Or Palestinian workers kidnapped by the IOF and then labeled with wristbands, each one reduced to a number, then made to walk back to Gaza to be killed in the world's largest open air concentration camp. Or the people of Gaza starving because Israeli Zionists are blocking aid trucks. Or the Israelis dancing and celebrating the death of Palestinians. Or the lies spread by Zionists and their supporters. Or the people profiting off the oppression and deaths of Palestinians. Or the people of the West Bank being killed or kidnapped by the IOF. Or old woman who was older than the creation of the terror state of "Israel" who was shot by snipers for saying that. Or the Israelis dressed up as Palestinians to enter a hospital and kill three Palestinians in their beds. Or every single Palestinian currently kept in an Israeli prison. Or the journalists, doctors, poets, men, women, children, and the unborn all massacred. Or the fact that WCNSF exists now. Or the woman who refused to wash the blood from her hands. Or the dead, unburied and unmourned.

I'm never forgetting those who chose silence in the face of a genocide.

I may not know all their names but I will not forget the over 30,000 Palestinians dead. Or the over 60, 000 people hurt. Or the unknown number of people missing, still lost under the rubble. Or the 12,000 children slaughtered. An entire generation crippled or murdered.

I will never forget these things when Palestine is free.

[inbabylontheywept]

the house i grew up in was a little bit of a fixer upper. for the first 19 years, my dad just sort of slowly fixed it, but pretty early on in college, he came into a large amount of cash and decided to just do the whole thing at once. so he rented a different house for like, 2 months that was just a block down from us, and then got a bunch of contractors to fix original house ASAP. it was kind of crazy, but it compressed many years of work into like, three months.

the sitting in a new house for three months was actually pretty fun. and i shouldnt really complain at all (staying at home while in college is a sweet deal)

but.

but. my parents are fairly hard of hearing, and their bedroom in the old house was in the furthest possible annex from everyone else. wheras in the rental it was just in the middle of the house. so without going into details, i was extremely aware that my parents were having sex like, eight times a day. my dad had just retired and i guess they were celebrating, which is great i guess, having parents that really like each other is way better than the alternative, but also, it did make me envy their deafness. i kept headphones on for so long that year i got literal ear calluses.

at the same time, the house my buddy from the shoe incident grew up in flooded. turbo flooded. they burst like, two pipes at once and the damage was so severe they had to redo all the flooring and all the drywall. his family actually had homeowners insurance, which is either incredible or suspicious for a family that used the drained pool in their backyard to store rusty scrap metal. so insurance was handling the work, but in the meantime, they were crammed into a very small hotel room space. we did the math on it then, it averaged about 80 square feet a person.

so one day i got home, and i was chilling, and then six rolled around, and apparently six o'clock was sex o'clock because my parents decided to flex their cardio. i grabbed my headphones and prayed that god would do for me what he did for beethoven, but that failed to work, and then seven rolled around and my parents were still at it, which again, very impressive, but was pushing me to swap out judas for mozart in those prayers. there's a definitive point where you stop praying to be deaf and instead pray that god could take you to a nice field and pop you like a gore-balloon.

i was about five minutes away from that point when my friend called me and basically said i have been stuck in a 500 square foot space with 6 people and i didn't have many marbles to start but what few i had are gone. please. if we are friends, if we were ever friends, take me out of here just for a moment.

and i was still pretty mad at him, but i had pity on the poor guy. also helped that i was desperate to leave the house. so i drove the chickenshitmobile to the hotel and i picked him up, and then we did our normal hangout activity, which was go to food city and buy produce. his normal house was, on a good day, nasty, and his backyard was, as i stated before, mostly used to store mosquito larvae and rusty metal, so what we'd always done before was just walk to the grocery store a half block away and leer at vegetables.

so we did that and it was like old times again. they had some radishes that were expired, so i could buy like, literally an entire grocery bag of them for about $5. so i did. i really like radishes. he got a coconut because he liked fruit and beating things with hammers.

which probably would've been great except we didn't have a hammer, so instead we spent about 30 minutes stomping itike it owed us money. when it finally cracked we cheered like we just got the winning touchball at the superdome and then he ate some of the flesh, and i ate some of the radishes, and we admired the black, starless sky of the city before i took him back to his hotel room.

and then we got pulled over.

i forgot to turn my lights on because the street all around the food city was ludicrously well lit. so it went from being pretty bright, to pretty bright and flashy, then i pulled into a parking lot and a cop came to ask us for IDs which is where everything went to shit:

i’d forgotten my license at home. 

the cop was was actually kind of chill about it - he said he could get by with just an address. except i did not know my address. i hadn't memorized the new one yet. so i told the cop, my house is getting remodeled, i don't know my address right now. and then he went to my friend, and my friend said the exact same thing. house getting remodeled, staying somewhere else, no address, sowwwwwwy.

now the cop genuinely didn't know what to do. he went back to his car, and i was stressed that i was about to get into HUGE trouble so i started eating the radishes and my buddy started eating more of his coconut, and we actually managed to eat like a quarter of both before the cop came back. we ate enough produce that he could smell something weird in the air, and he asked what the smell was, and i said radishes, and my buddy said coconut, and the cop said which, and then we produced a large bag of droopy radishes and an absolutely brutalized coconut, and the cop was just like

so my buddy tried explaining how he was sharing a 500 square foot apartment with 6 people and wanted a fruit he could fight with power tools, and i tried explaining how i'd actually tried buying my parents like, board games and puzzles and stuff but nothing worked - the only thing my parents seemed to like doing right now was each other, and we both went on long enough and pathetically enough that the cop eventually went:

ok. stop.

and we stopped.

and he said do you know why i pulled you over?

and i said, because of my headlights, and my friend (who is hispanic) and the cop both looked at me like like i was the dumbest person in the entire world. and then the cop said no. that's why i'm allowed to pull you over. i checked your car because this neighborhood has a terrible sex trafficking problem, and i pull over every car i can to make sure no one is buying or selling sex. and you two are obviously doing neither. now i could give you, like, four tickets right now, but that would do nothing to make this area safer, so just turn your lights on, go home, drive safe, and try to be less stupid in the future.

and i said okay but i was thinking, you know, damn, this is just how i live man, i don't have a hidden third gear i can shift into. people can't just get smarter because it would be convenient. it's always convenient to be smart. i am literally trying my best.

but i didn't say anything because i was, slowly, learning how to filter what i said. instead i nodded and the cop left then i dropped my buddy off, and the last thing he said was said he owed me for responding to his SOS. I said he owed me for a lot of things, and he agreed that was true. then i drove home with my lights on, 5 under the speed limit, and arrived to a peaceful quiet home. I could’ve wept with relief but instead I went to bed.

the relief was short lived. i was woken up at 6 am by my parents. i swore, and then i prayed, and when i did not explode, i swore again. then i got up to make breakfast before my first class.

[cursingtoji]

summary: clan leader!gojo needs a favor from your clan but as the leader you refuse, so he proposes to give you a child since your husband is unable to.

"and what am i to do when the child comes out with a white head of hair and blue eyes?"

“if that happens…” he undoes the knot that holds your kimono together and pushes the material down your arms with no resistance from you, “…then i’ll kill your husband myself and marry you.”

nsfw ahead cw: historical au, infidelity, pregnancy, creampie, child birth, satoru is pathetically in love. featuring samurai bodyguard geto and toji.

“i thought we had solved all our business with the gojo clan” your husband says from the door he leans on.

“and i did” you emphasize the i since the head of your clan is you and only you went to the clan meetings that got things solved. you tapped your lips a little bit more to place the reddish pigment looking at the mirror, “but satoru summoned this meeting and gave no details.”

“satoru huh?” your husband points, not letting go unnoticed the fact you used his first name without formalities.

“all right” you take one step back checking if your kimono is proper, “see you tonight” you peck his lips lightly to not ruin the tint on yours and proceed to the carriage outside.

for years the gojo clan and yours avoided each other due to some very old beef that no one remembers or even was alive when it happened, so when your mother passed and you assumed as the new head you soon decided to reach out to make peace with the current head of the rival clan and a friendly relationship was restored. more often than not you two met, sometimes with other clan members or even other clans when necessary, but today gojo insisted on being just the two of you.

toji, your bodyguard, opens the carriage door when you arrive and give you his hand for you to step out.

to avoid any issues the place of the meeting was always the temple middle way your residences. from time to time your families attended the prayers there, that’s when your husband saw satoru for the first time.

“where’s his wife?” he asked the first time you pointed the white-haired man as the clan head after you made peace.

“he doesn’t have one.”

“fiancée then?”

“i don’t think so” you both watched discreetly as he greeted the monks.

“i find that quite odd. what about the black-haired man?” he pointed to geto, gojo’s bodyguard, “could they be involved romantically?” geto leaned to whisper something to his master, a little bit too close if you might add, a few more inches and his lips would be touching satoru’s ear. his romantic life was no business of yours but you didn’t like the idea of him having any partners, didn’t seem right, though deep down you knew it was very unlikely for a handsome man like him to be alone. both men somehow found your curious gaze.

“geto” you greet the known bodyguard as you enter the temple, and he bows to you, your bodyguard nods at him as well and you’re guided to the secret room.

the conversation went on for almost an hour, satoru served you tea when he noticed you finished yours, which was unusual for a clan head to do such a mundane task but he always insisted no servant join on your private meetings. you always thought he was particularly paranoid about spies, but that suspicion was dismissed when you had your first meeting with other clan heads and he didn’t oppose the people that stayed in the back of the room waiting for their master’s orders.

“satoru we went over this on the last meeting, why am i here?” you are getting impatient, satoru always seemed relaxed when he was at the temple like it’s the one place people don’t come to him with problems, so he tended to do things without any rush at all.

“so impatient…” he smirks, “i was getting to the point but fine. i need your doctors for a few weeks.”

because of the many wars and the necessity to heal mainly the samurai your clan became specialized in healing techniques and remedies instead of combat.

“is someone injured?” you raised your eyebrow, it wasn’t likely for satoru to ask for something like this when he could’ve sent a letter.

“no. but we are expecting a conflict soon and—”

“let me stop you there satoru” you raised your hand and for a second you saw a glimpse of annoyance cross his features, “we don’t get involved with battles anymore, the healers go through extensive training and i can’t risk losing them in battle.”

“so instead of putting their knowledge into practice you rather keep them locked in a room reading books?”

“they are busy with research at the moment” you raise your chin unwilling to budge on the matter.

“is that so?” he tilted his head smiling “and how many people does it take to figure out your husband is infertile?”

you widened your eyes, this is way too personal of a matter for someone else, especially another clan head, to know.

on the other side of the door, geto and toji guarded the room, they were close enough to listen to the conversation and without turning his head geto looked at toji with his eyebrow raised, to which toji only nodded confirming the rumors.

“you’re not the only one with little birds across territories, sweetheart” his smile only seems to grow.

“that is no business of yours. besides, lending you my healers will only harm my clan and, as i said, put them at unnecessary risk” you managed to find your composure back and avoid the infertility topic.

“don’t you trust i have the best warriors? you seemed to when we came to your aid” he reminded a time you asked for their men.

“i paid for that.”

“and what makes you think i won’t?”

“we don’t need money.”

“i’m not talking about money” he drops the volume of his voice.

“listen, satoru—” you rise to your feet sensing the tone of this conversation is off.

“i’m listening, for a very long time i’ve been listening” he rises as well and takes a few steps in your direction, “you know what i listen to? the rumors about your family threatening to make your brother head of the clan if you don’t bear an heir soon.”

you take a step back.

“or the resources you’ve been spending to research a treatment for your husband. tell me, darling, can he even get it up for you?” he is too close now, you can see all the details of his insanely blue eyes.

“he— that’s not a problem” you accidentally confess.

“of course it’s not, look at you” his finger brushes your cheek and the touch makes you burn under your skin, “i could give you a child” he lowers his head to your ear, running his lips on it, “a healthy, smart, beautiful child” he presses his hand on your belly over the thick material of your clothes, “and it wouldn’t even be an effort” he presses his hardened member on your hip.

“and what am i to do when the child comes out with a white head of hair and blue eyes?” you look into his eyes challenging him to a solution.

“if that happens…” he undoes the knot that holds your kimono together and pushes the material down your arms with no resistance from you, “…i’ll kill him myself and take his place as your husband.”

you gasp, not expecting such an answer from the man you always watched trying to find a way to avoid violence.

satoru kisses your jaw then your cheek and when he gets close to your lips you turn your head, your conscience only now, in this intimate act, attacking you.

“he’s not fulfilling his duty” he whispers, letting go of the knot on his kimono, taking your hand and putting it on his chest. you open your eyes, not even aware you had closed them, and see his sculpted torso, so close to you, so warm…

“it’s not your fault, can’t you see?” he raises your chin, “it wasn’t meant to be, unlike us” you know he’s just telling you what you want to hear, but in his voice everything made sense.

“you’ll see” he picks you up and lowers his body with you back to the mat in the middle of the room, his kimono is still around his arms while yours was forgotten somewhere else, leaving only the very thin, dress-like, white undergarment that pretty much showed everything.

satoru lowers his head to your chest, his tongue wetting your nipple over the material, “i bet you’ll become even prettier” he replaces your breast with his hand, big and hot, and goes to the other nipple, “with your breasts heavy and a big belly” he sucks on you, hardly, you put your hand over your mouth.

satoru raises your legs over his shoulders, “your feet will get tired” he kisses the inner thigh, “but you’ll still come and see me” you thought it sounded like a question, it was a statement.

his head goes down, as he kisses your folds your back arches, he licks a stripe ending on your clit and flickering it.

satoru starts to lose himself, he gets too intoxicated by you, almost forgetting time is running against him here. he doesn’t have much longer until your bodyguard gets suspicious and calls for you, and by the way your hand is tight against your mouth he doubts you’ll be able to give a proper response.

he wants to make you cum before he shoots his load, suguru’s intel told him you asked one of the doctors if the woman needed to come to increase the chances. it doesn’t take much medical knowledge to interpret that question.

you cum on his tongue pulling him out of his dreams where he imagined himself doing that every night after those boring fucking meetings he has to attend at every slight inconvenience in his clan.

“it’s gonna be okay, just relax for me” he pushes his length slowly before you get the chance to see his size. you whisper his name behind your hand and he can’t stand not seeing your whole face, so he takes your hand out of the way and kisses your wet lips pushing his tongue and swallowing your moans as he goes deeper and starts to pick a pace.

satoru holds back a curse, reminding himself he’s in a sacred place and although anyone would say that’s ironic given what you’re doing in the temple he would argue that’s even more sacred than what most people prayed for.

you start to feel his weight down on you as he trusts get sloppier, he’s still kissing you, holding your lips with his when he twitches and fills your insides, in your drunk mind you think it’s so much more than what you’re used to.

after he catches his breath he pushes himself up and out of you, you allow yourself to close your eyes for a brief moment but you open them wide again when satoru pushes his cum back into you with his finger, “keep it deep and warm for me, yes?”

one hour later you pass through the door your bodyguard slides open for you to enter your chambers. on the way there you realized there’s no chance he and geto didn’t grasp on what was happening inside the room.

“toji?” you call before he can close the door and go to his personal room, he stops, indicating he listens although he doesn’t respond with the formality others usually do, “i trust you won’t share with anyone what happened today” you speak firmly looking the tall man behind you over your shoulder, his scar stretches slightly with his smirk, the man bows and closes the door.

they said it was a road accident, the horse got spooked and ran, by the time they found it there was no rider so they searched your husband and found his body down the mountain.

the ritual was long, you wore the traditional widow clothing, accepting the kind words of the clan members and the prayer of the monks. though you really were sad, all this pity was making you sicker than…

“at least you didn’t have kids, no child deserves to grow up with a dead father” an old lady says to comfort you while holding your hands.

“excuse me” you turn around walking slowly to not raise suspicions and as soon as it is just you on the other side of your home you bend your torso and throw up all you’ve eaten before the funeral.

you cough and when a tissue enters your field of vision you immediately take it and clean your mouth.

you feel your stomach empty but the light volume below it reminds you of whose fault it is.

you raise with the tissue on your lips to say thank you and the sight of the white-haired man makes you choke.

“shh, it’s okay, i’m here as an ally, to give my condolences to a friend in grief” there’s absolutely no seriousness in his tone.

“what about the war?” you ask through heavy breathing.

“that was child’s play, don’t worry, your healers will return safe and sound in a few days” he puts his hand on your shoulder to calm you down, you do.

satoru takes a second to drop his sight to your belly, it has been a month since your last encounter, and by your sensitive stomach he knows that one time was enough for you to get pregnant.

“do you think you can hide it for another month until the wedding? then when the child is born we’ll just say it was a premature birth” god, your former husband’s body was barely cold and gojo is already planning the wedding and what to say about the baby.

“why now?” you look up at his mischievous eyes, he knows what you’re asking truly.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, it was an accident right?” he touches your face, brushing away a tear that came out, more of a natural body reaction of your gagging than a sadness reaction.

“satoru, tell me” you demanded.

“i just reflect a little you know? when i said i would kill him you never asked me not to. besides, i don’t want another man to think they own what’s mine” his eyes are darker, you think he’s talking about the child in your womb but by the intensity of his gaze, you realize he’s talking about you. “if you need anything tell suguru, i’ll have him staying in the village until we announce the wedding.”

“no, i have toji, don’t want anyone suspecting geto’s intentions” you defend.

gojo doesn’t seem to like it, but he doesn’t argue either, “either way, i want to see you. meet me at the temple in five days, we’ll talk about the arrangements” he leans in and kisses your forehead before turning away and then back “i almost forgot” he reaches for something inside his sleeve and pulls out a shiny golden bracelet with gems and puts it on your palm, you know you can’t wear it now but god it’s gorgeous, “came from the west especially for you” he puts his hand on top of yours and leaves it there for a long moment as you look into each other's eyes. satoru is fighting the urge to kiss you, if someone catches you he can’t say he’s comforting his recently widowed friend, so he forces himself to let go of you and go head back to his village.

the midwife instructs you to push harder as her helper dabs a wet cloth on your forehead. you’re squatting, on your knees giving your all to push the baby out.

finally one last push is all that it takes for the little one to come out, you want to lay down and close your eyes, but you need to see the baby first so you mumble something with your arms open, the midwife cleans baby’s face through crying and screaming.

“it’s a boy” she whispers putting him in your arms. satoru enters when he hears the cries and kneels in front of you. behind him are both suguru and toji, who aren’t allowed to enter but the men are also very eager to see the child they can’t help but try to peek.

you balance the boy in your hold for a little bit till he stops crying and when he opens his eyes you see the blue sky.

“give him to the father, we’re not over” the midwife says.

“what?” you, satoru, toji and suguru ask. the last two get an angry look from the midwife and remove themselves from the scene.

“the next one will come out soon” she puts new towels below you.

“two children? at once?” you ask in disbelief then look at satoru who can only smile apologetically.

after god knows how long you’re finally allowed to rest as the babies were cleaned and fed. the second one was a girl, with identical blue eyes as her brother and father.

“i can’t believe you put two kids in me” satoru is outside the wooden tub, breaking all tradition by helping you bathe after the birth.

“can’t say i’m sorry for that” he rubs your shoulders, “you were incredible” he confesses now that there’s only the two of you. satoru refuses to even let your feet touch the floor, he takes you out of the tub once the water starts to cool down, placing you on a dry surface and getting on his knees to dry your feet, you reach out to touch his face.

“i love you, satoru” you blurt, overwhelmed by your feelings for the man who was once your rival.

he looks up from his position, taking the hand on his face and kissing your palm, then your pulse, he kisses inch by inch of your arm until his lips are on yours, “i love you.”

"pay up, pretty boy" toji approaches geto.

"excuse me?" suguru looks up from the sword he's polishing now that gojo dismissed him for the rest of the night.

"i said it was gonna be a boy."

"yeah and then a girl came out right after so the bet was invalidated."

"there's no such a thing, the boy will inherit it all anyway" toji crosses his arms, geto laughs, fishing a coin from his pocket since he knows toji will say anything to win the bet.

"and what makes you say that? there's two clans and now two heirs" toji snatches the coin as soon as he sees the silver glow.

"that's just how it has ever been" he turns his back to geto who drives his attention back to his sword.

"things are changing old man.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[psychologeek]

I'm not happy.

I'm not happy about his death, because death isn't something people "deserve".

(Though some people would never stop otherwise.)

But I do take a big sigh of relief -

Bc I was young when Hezbollah had tried to kill me the first time.

And I had 2 younger siblings at the time.

And my youngest sister, a teenager, isn't even twice the age I was when I first felt the explosion after a missile hits.

(She's still a minor, and lives in our hometown. But the house we moved in when I was 10 has an indoor shelter.)

She isn't safe from missiles.

(well, you know, she's "as safe as can be" aka no immediate life threat)

But at least THIS is one person that would never try to hurt her.

And that's a good thing in my book.

original post

When we celebrate Nasrallah's death it is not because we love death, but because we hate it. Nasrallah caused countless deaths of innocents, such as the children shown above. We celebrate because he can never cause harm again. We remember those from northern Israel who have been displaced due to Hezbollah for so long now, the fires Hezbollah's attacks caused in our homeland.

We do not celebrate his elimination because it is death, but because it puts an end to the deaths he brought onto others.

[timetravellingkitty]

GET SIRAJ TO 50K IN 2 DAYS!!

If you don't know by now, Siraj Abudayeh is a writer and journalist from Gaza. He is currently fundraising to survive through the genocide. He has a dream of rebuilding his home - this is his resistance against the settler state because he refuses to let the colonizers take over the city, the home, he so loves. Siraj and his family need to live through this difficult time. Everyday is a struggle where his family has to put in herculean efforts to acquire even the basic items of life. No one, who is from outside of Gaza can know how truly hellish these ten months have been. To provide you with just a glimpse of this hell, Siraj has asked me to share this message with you:

"Everyday, my children have to stand in a line to get 10 loaves of bread. You also have young girls, pregnant women, and the elderly. . . They all wait to purchase for their families, but the bakery is a wrestling ring! We quarrel with each other, scream until our throat hurts, and faint from the blazing heat! And the queue does not move while all of this is happening. . . Not even a prayer will save you from this misery!

For 3 straight hours, Muhammad, Siraj’s son, stood, counting on his fingers how many people will it be until it is his turn to receive the bread and return to his family. His turn has finally arrived.

Suddenly, an ear piercing sound slices through the the air!! It is heavier than an exploding F-16 missile: Children fled in fear, the bakery was hastily closed and Muhammad returned with a heavy burden of an empty stomach."

As of writing this $46,268 out $50,000 CAD have been raised. We have $3,732 left to go!

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@vakarians-babe

[kaiijo]

ROMANCE TROPES — [HAIKYUU]

characters: hinata shoyo, miya atsumu, bokuto koutarou, sakusa kiyoomi content: gn! reader, the msby four, rich sakusa (i am a rich sakusa truther until the end), bokuto picks you up, sakusa is implied to be taller than you notes: omg i lowkey want to do a fuller version of sakusa’s part 

hinata shoyo ✶ love at first sight

slouched in a plastic airport seat, hinata’s leg bounces anxiously as he awaits his flight. rain beats down the side of the windows and he prays to whatever universal force there is that the flight leaves at the right time. he couldn’t fly with everyone else earlier since he celebrated his grandmother’s birthday with family but it put him on a late night flight that lined up with an incoming storm. 

he scrolls mindlessly through his social media feed, double-tapping a photo of oikawa’s reunion with his high school team and tanaka’s anniversary post for kiyoko. 

the speaker system crackles to life. “attention, passengers of flight 7644 to sapporo, due to inclement weather conditions, the flight has been delayed an estimated two hours. we apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for your patience.”

hinata curses under his breath, already on his way to pulling up the black jackals’s group chat to tell them. he pulls his cap off, running a hand through his hair with a long sigh. his phone begins to buzz with texts, no doubt from his coach telling him to keep them updated. 

he rests his forearms on his knees, slumping forward and skimming through the messages. then, he feels a cautious tap on his shoulder and a soft voice asks, “excuse me, do you have a charger i could use?”

when he looks up, hinata thinks the greater powers that be answered a different prayer of his. because holy shit he has never seen anyone as beautiful as you. you’re in a comfy-looking pullover and sweatpants and hinata only realizes he’s just been staring silently for a few seconds when your expression turns apologetic. “i’m sorry to bother you, i’ll ask someone else!”

“no, no, i’m sorry,” he says, words tumbling out of his mouth. he scrambles to unzip his backpack, rummaging through until he triumphantly pulls out his charger. he hands it to you and you thank him. before you can leave, he blurts out, “i’m hinata.”

“oh!” you stick your hand out and tell him your name with a small smile and when you do, hinata knows that he’s gone. 

miya atsumu ✶ brother’s best friend

osamu’s not sure how atsumu managed to weasel his way into his plans. it was a bit of a blur, atsumu practically crashing through the door of onigiri miya as osamu closed up shop to go get drinks with you, begging to be included. he supposes to reason was pity and atsumu’s pleading look as well as the fact that you work far away that had him agreeing to his brother tagging along. 

it was in your last year of high school that osamu figured out his brother had a big, fat crush on you. honestly, it should have been more obvious, especially with the way atsumu flaunted himself and often paraded around the house shirtless when he knew you were coming over. it bothered him at first, thinking bitterly that ‘tsumu couldn’t let him just have one thing to himself? but over time, the annoyance faded as he saw atsumu prove that this wasn’t just a flight-of-fancy, and osamu has already made peace with the very real possibility that you could be his in-law someday. that is, is atsumu could even tell you in the first place.

it’s a little disturbing, osamu thinks, watching the way atsumu flirts with you and wondering if he too makes the same googly-eyes at someone he’s crushing on or if that’s the way he sounds. you giggle when atsumu tries to take a sip of your margarita, telling him, “order your own then, ‘tsumu!”

“nah, yours tastes way better.”

“can’t take this scrub anywhere,” osamu says, earning a laugh from you and a glare from his twin.

you pat atsumu’s shoulder and osamu can’t believe you don’t feel how atsumu melts into your touch. “i’m actually glad both of you are here,” you say, “because i wanted to tell you guys that i’m moving back to tokyo! my boss promoted me so i’m back at main headquarters! isn’t that great?”

“that’s awesome,” osamu says, speaking for both himself and atsumu, who looks like he just won the lottery. 

bokuto koutarou ✶ opposites attract

whenever akaashi introduces you and bokuto as a couple to new people, he always gets pulled over to the side and asked in a whisper, “how did those two get together? he’s so… and they’re less…” 

akaashi can’t say that he wasn’t surprised when you and bokuto started dating back in high school, given that they two of you were on very different trajectories. obviously, bokuto was the captain of fukurodani’s volleyball team while you were student council president and vice-president of chess club. bokuto’s grade sat at the lower end of the spectrum while you were always within the top five students in your class. bokuto liked loud, screaming parties while you preferred a quiet night with a few friends. 

so when bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders one day and shook him, saying that he needed to tell you how he felt, akaashi was taken off-guarded. he didn’t even know you knew each other beyond having a mutual friend, him. 

maybe back then, akaashi would have agreed with the person asking him but now, he just tells them to observe the two of you. because when akaashi does, everything falls into place. like right now, as he and bokuto sit in the stands, watching your final chess match. if you win, you’ll hold onto your spot as a national champion and go on to compete internationally. 

out of the corner of his eyes, akaashi watches as bokuto sits at the very edge of his seat, chewing on his bottom lip. it’s clearly killing him not to cheer and it’s a testament to both his devotion to you. your hand hovers above the bishop before you switch quickly to the queen and move the piece with confidence, setting it down and announcing, “checkmate.”

the crowds erupts into the cheers and you’ve only barely finished shaking your opponent’s hand when bokuto flies out of his seat and barrels towards you. he sweeps you off your feet, spinning you once and setting you down before planting a big kiss on your cheek. you’re beaming as you’re handing your trophy, and bokuto steps back to let you soak up your spotlight. akaashi can’t help but notice that bokuto is beaming too and clapping the loudest. 

as the crowd starts to disperse, akaashi and bokuto join you again, ready to take you to your planned dinner. before you leave, bokuto says, “i was going to do this later but i can’t hold it in anymore, babe.” and he gets down on one knee with a ring box akaashi is all-too familiar with. 

sakusa kiyoomi ✶ reunited childhood sweethearts 

“try not to look so dour, sweetheart,” sakusa’s mother tells him as she fixes his tie. sakusa wants to grumble some choice words but he knows better than to complain to her. besides, he’s only partially paying attention, eyes darting about the crowd and back towards the venue’s entrance. 

he settles on adjusting his mask with a barely audible sigh and mumbles a quiet thanks as she flits to fuss over his older siblings. he glances again, disappointed as a different group of people waltzes in. he knows his older sister wouldn’t be so cruel as to lie to him that your family will be in attendance but the anxiety is making his antsy.

the two of you were inseparable as children with you being one of his only friends growing up.  you spent you days squirreled away in some nook reading or outside playing volleyball. your mothers always cooed that you two would get together one day, and as he got older and learned what that really meant, sakusa found himself hoping too. but then your parents took you and your siblings abroad, leaving him alone and heartbroken. he cut you off, hoping the distances and time would make your departure hurt less, but it didn’t.

sakusa doesn’t recognize the voice that calls his name but his head snaps towards the doorway. you’re standing in between your older sister and younger brother, waving at him. his heart skips a beat. your social media postings don’t do you enough justice; you’re even more attractive that the pixels he’s spent hours staring at. 

you still have that ever-present smile on your face and you quickly break-off from your family to bound over to him. without even thinking, his arms close around you as you embrace him tightly. you feel so familiar and he doesn’t want to let you go as you part. evidently, you don’t either as you keep him close still, only leaning away to look at him. “you’re so tall,” you laugh, more shyly you add, “and very handsome.”

this time, sakusa thinks his heart stops. 

[acid-ixx]

brutus: out for blood (villain au concept)

ft. neglectful yandere! bruce wayne x gn villain! reader

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: did anybody ask for this? no! did i decide to write this anyways? abso -fucking-lutely. is this a rantfic? mayybee. anyways, this is not my best piece nor will anything i write be my best piece but i just love destroying my happiness with angst and altho writing a very anxiety ridden mc is fun, i also love to dabble in sadomasochistic traits for a main character. like i said, i am not proud of this but i figured i should post something. erm... leave comments bec i love reading whatever stuff u guys have in store hehe.

you've tasted blood on your tongue far longer than you've felt the loving touch of a family.

it's metallic. it's salty. it twists every vein in your gut.

it tastes of broken metal pipes in playgrounds, destructive tantrums and broken dreams, of skipped classes and detention rooms, of ripped test papers and missed diplomas. it reminds you of your bitter past every single time; one you swore you've buried six feet deep into the ground. a burning memory with nothing more than heartaches and heartbreaks.

you taste blood whenever they reject your advances for even a single moment of bonding time. you feel it pumping slowly, steadily, painfully whenever you stumble upon a room, only to see them, smiles and all, huddled together in a group with junk food in their hands and a movie playing in that stupid flat screen tv. you know it's the only thing accompanying you whenever he misses another event in your school. it becomes the only friend you have whenever you're alone, inside your too-small room, with shatters glass scattered around and bruised knuckles.

blood, for most, is vile, utterly repulsive. it reeks in every corner of a room, its scent is overpowering, it stains, it's hard to clean. it imprints. and it will always remind you it's there, in the depths of your body, curdling and boiling and ready to burst out of the seems every time you rip at your skin with a razor sharp blade. blood has always been your only friend, like a scar that will never fade away.

yet you embrace crimson like it was the color of your soul, and accept how it's the only color you allow in your grim life. black has never provided you solace, but red allowed for a mantra of emotions to trail into your very being.

blood. it's more homely than you let it out to be.

and you're far more familiar with it than anything else. you cradle it like an unwanted child, you kiss its wounds, allow it to fester and grow into an abhorrent disease that crawls like a lump in your throat that you could never get rid of.

in moments of solace, of quaint prayers and hours of kneeling into the floor— it is the thing that slides on cold, hard tiles. it is the warmth, the numbness, the thing that seeps out of your bruised knees, your scratched neck and your thighs with fingernails buried deep into flesh.

you've come to love blood, cherish it even.

especially if it's your own.

especially if it came from the punch of none other than your father.

left, right, left, right.

his punches were cruel and his kicks can easily crush bones into powder. he demands answers with every strike he delivers, he exudes an energy far more adrenaline based than yours. batman is methodical in the way he moves, the way he acts, and you're not; you're impulsive, you had no plans to counter the towering man— no counter for the brutal hits he lay upon you. you let him, you open every doorway world to beat your body black and blue, with red painting the canvas as a finishing touch.

he's stronger than you, and every time he bashes your head into the wall, the urge to spit into his face, to piss him off, to laugh at him and his Idiocracy; it all becomes stronger.

yet all you do was allow him multiple openings, denying yourself the pleasure of attempting to even take your abandoned gun at the corner and shoot at his cranium— you want him to suffer, even if it costs you your mobility by the near future, fuck it.

up, down, to the side, then an uppercut to your jaw and you're nearly depleted of anymore moves to counter. you want to seem like you've given up; but you want him pissed off, enough to punch you 'til blood seeps into the fibers of your mask. until your face starts bruising, until your nose breaks, until he finally rips your mask off and sees your face.

and he'll come to regret.

you shift to the side, and ignore the sting of your throat, the lull of your head and the soreness of your entire body.

because if you hadn't dodged, then your head would've left an imprint on the walls. you would've preferred that now, rather than the disgusting feeling of sentimentality that creeps into your heart at the implication that his blows were slowly, but surely, weakening.

he's holding back, you hold back a sneer.

as if he actually cares about you.

maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. you know he cares far more deeply for his enemies than he does you, and you hate how glad you are at the pride that finally, just finally are you being acknowledged. at the opposite end of his side, as enemies. but for once you can feel the care he offers others, most of which were nonexistent back when you were just some... nobody.

batman never kills; but he can hurt, he can injure, and he can destroy. and right now, you feel all the air leaving your body as the cloaked vigilante delivers the last punch to your ribcage.

you fall, on your hands and knees, a loud thump resounding through the empty abandoned building. all you hear are your crackling joints, and heavy breathing. heavy, like your eyelids, about to fall, about to shut until black encompasses your vision. if not for the remaining adrenaline coursing through your veins, you would've fainted— but you won't, you wouldn't, not until you see him, see his face.

the thumping in your heart beats louder, and your hands. god, they feel like jelly, it's burning, it's one step closer on collapsing under gravelly concrete and piercing skin into rocks. yet you're forbidden any time for grace, not when he lightly shoves you out of your position, and not when you fall to your sides, hands paralyzed, tears prickling against your cheeks at the pain that burns throughout your body.

"you don't deserve peace after shooting that family in front of that child, you know it."

his voice, domineering, absolutely fucking vibrating with a tremor of sheer anger. he directs his words at you, without empathy, without mercy. he wants you to learn to never mess with him in the streets of gotham. but you'll never... not until he notices you. fuck, you just want him to notice you. and now, he is, with utter vexation that causes a lump in your throat to form.

shit, you've never felt so happy.

it's when his tussled form — heavy, pitch-black boots slathered with crimson liquid — enters your sight that you cough, violently, out of breath, and you can feel it one second, then taste it in your tongue the next.

blood.

you grin, and slowly, ever-so eminently, did you spiral into a cackle. your throat gurgles crimson liquid, and yet it only builds into a cacophony of a broken record. you move your head, look through your nearly shredded domino mask, with so little strength to accompany you, to look at the man above you, eyes glinting with a glow never so alive until now.

you're genuinely so fucking happy.

batman, he who strikes fear into the hearts of gotham villains and civilians alike. he who protects the city at night. he whose name is said with wavering uncertainty— he's looking at you, only you.

'bruce wayne: my dad— is finally looking at me.'

and you! you're laughing, the sounds that emanate from your throat are so scratchy, so utterly decimated that it sounds like vultures feeding through a dead corpse; but you don't let your chuckles die down, because you're so, so happy.

he looks at you, with contempt, with disgust, you don't know; but you're still so overjoyed.

"y-yeah... it's me, i did it. are you proud of me...?" you ask as you look up, through the tears that flow out your eyes, through the grin that couldn't die down. he looks at you like you're insane, and you know he's confused, shifting uncomfortably as he gives someone a status update through the comms, his eyes never leaving your pathetic form—

you look at him like he means the world all throughout.

"call for red robin, i have one of the culprits," he orders through the intangible device, eyes squinting as he takes you in— you whose chuckles slowly calmed down, as your breathing finally becomes heavier, as blood, yours, seem to seep into clumsily made apparel. you, who bruce realized seem too oddly familiar, too small, too childish, whose moment of spiraling insanity is too damn innocent to ignore.

you're not like the typical rogue he encounters, no. and right before you finally allow sleep to overcome you, you muster the last of your energy, to stare back at him with shining eyes, expectant, and like a child's, you ask with the meekest voice.

"hey... dad, i have a surprise." scratchy, absolutely broken, yet spilling with joy, with... your last word right before you continue, bruce's heart thumps ever the slightest faster.

"take my mask off, please?"

crimson began to overtake your entire body, and bruce should've never complied with your... request, but as he kneels and finally gets a grasp of what you truly look like, he notices the frailness, the vulnerability, as if you were never built for... combat. with just how quickly you succumb to the depths of rest, with how oblivious you are to the fact that if it were anyone else, they would've killed you.

you're not properly trained, you fight out of impulse, and he knows it with just how swift you gave up midfight.

when he pulls the domino mask (which seems oddly inspired by the shape of... his vigilante partners, the robins...) off your face, did his heart finally hastened its pace, loud thumping crawling its way to his ears, his eyes registering your face: its form, its shape, your eyes, your nose—

all similar to his, all an amalgamation of your mother's, too.

no... wait, no.

it's not...

it's not his... child?

you?

your eyes, flickering one last time stared at him, softly, like that of a child who looks at their father with pride like nothing else. your hand, it shakes, it shivers, as your fingers find its way creeping to his hand, holding your mask. fingers so dainty, now pulverized bones lay atop his shivering hand, tenderly, as if trying to comfort the very same man who has nearly killed you.

batman— no, bruce looks at you. at what he's done, and only now did he realize his greatest mistake. a child, his child, one whose innocence retained through heinous acts, now a villain, whose actions were all a testimony to merely wanting their father's attention.

he failed you, his child. he failed to protect you, who he has never held up close until now— as your body is hastily taken into his arms. so small, so easily wrapped around his body, so unbefitting of committing criminal activity. now bloodied and laid into barren ground by their very own father.

bruce wayne never felt this much terror, for nearly killing his child.

this, this day marks his sin.

and you? dearest you feel like today is your greatest day.

crimson, nearly every part of you is stained with that putrid color.

yet blood has always been your best friend, no? and right now as you bleed into the arms of your father, you find yourself grateful that it is the last thing you see before a black cloak wraps around you, before black fills your entire line of sight.

short rant ahead: another author's note??? wow. yeah this was such a hard drabble to write. plsplspls leave a comment or some sort of input. anything will do. ive been so demotivated to write lately and i feel like anything i write is just, so bad 😭 like is my pacing good? are the emotions out of place? am i even doing this right ?? i don't know, and i feel like every time i post something i always put up expectations on myself that I should've done better so yeahh. is this attention seeking behavior? probably. but i don't get how people have come to like the stuff i write when i hate whatever i write hence why im in a constant cycle of hiatuses and short breaks. and really, it's just so hard to come into terms with things and i need input lest i accidentally get into a year or two of hiatus, lmaoo.

[gatsby-system-folks]

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