#screaming into the void and all you know i'll be doing it until i die

[louderfade]

i am indifferent to mcr and related content on here but i simply adore how devoted their fans are, well, in general really, but specifically to these musicians' old livejournal accounts. i was huge on lj bc i am old and these mcr fans are still out here posting entries from 2006 just bc they're interesting or relatable or revealing of the author's preferences. like if i were forced to be famous (god forbid) i would want fans like that. who track down my ancient public lj and are so affected by it that they come here to upload screenshots of an incomprehensible personal post i made about suffering rage-induced headaches while in my sylvia plath era on a tuesday morning at age 19 using the office computers at my shitty temp job while listening to sunny day real estate complete with my edgy requiem for a dream userpic and some poetic word salad i entered in the "mood" textbox that day and then tag it with #she knew everything or use it as a source to support their fucking internet essay about bands i found lyrically influential in my youth. those fans are the realest. and shout out to livejournal for remaining untransformed through the ages in order to make this possible. long live lj and mcr fans too i hope y'all never change rock on.

[wolverineluvr]

Yandere Satosugu x reader

TW: Gore, murder of a child(readers son), Geto and Gojo r unhinged, angst, age gap(reader is 25-35 and SatoSugu r like 18-19), Geto didn't defect, fem!reader.

You scream and cry as Satoru bats your son, Hikaru, around as though he's a ball of yarn and Satoru's a cat. "Please- I'm sorry!" You sob. Your stomach twists until there's nothing but a knot and turns as Hikaru falls to the floor with a thud and a weak call out for you. "It's all gonna be okay, don't worry. We'll give you a new kid real soon." Suguru coos into your ear. His arms are hooked under your armpits, forcing you to just stand and watch as Satoru grins and shuffles around in his pocket.

He fishes out a knife. "Sugu'...How should I finish him off? Knife, or unlimited void?" Satoru asks in a tone that indicates he's clearly proud of something. "Let's let her choose," Suguru responds and you can hear the smile on his face. "and you can't choose neither cus then we're just gonna do both, got it?"

You don't know what to do. What the fuck is an unlimited void anyways? "She's taking too long so I'm gonna give her a timer." Satoru sighs, but there's still that stupid grin on his face you wish you could wipe off his face. Satoru raises one of his hands, the fingers extended and he puts down one as he counts slowly, like he's not counting down for the death of your 6 year old son.

One.

You look down at the bloodied face of your child, his nose is bleeding and there's dirt on his cheek—his crying smudges the red blood and the dirt, making a small patch of mud along the way. Knife or unlimited void?

Two.

You look back up at Satoru—he's looming over Hikaru like a snake and a mouse—his eyes are gleaming with sick and twisted joy. He looks up at you, his expression asking you: the knife or unlimited void?

Three.

What do you choose? What if the plan with the knife is to give him an easy and quick death, stabbing Hikaru's brain or something like that? Would that even be an easy death? You don't know. What if the plan is to just cut him open while he's still alive and rip out his organs, or to just stab him over and over again? Knife or unlimited void?

Four.

What even is unlimited void? Is it the name of his car or gun or something? What does it mean? Is this even happening? It can't be, can it? It was just a normal day before all this, and now you're debating the better option of what your son should die from? And one of them is something you don't even know? Knife or unlimited void?

Five.

You can hear Satoru's voice becoming absolutely giddy as he sits on the back of Hikaru, making sure he stays in place as Hikaru weakly calls out for you again. You don't want to choose. You don't want to watch your son die. Why is this even happening? Knife or unlimited void?

Six.

Satoru puts down up one of the five down fingers, still counting. Suguru sighs behind you as he feels your heartbeat quicken and race like you're running a marathon, "you don't have to look" you hear Suguru murmur. But that doesn't help. Closing your eyes won't help. You'll still hear his cries and sobs for help. You'll still feel the insane guilt of doing nothing while your son is crying out for you. Knife or unlimited void?

Seven.

"I'll cover your ears" Suguru offers. You can't do anything but sob and continue to struggle in his grasp. He knows it's not your fault you had a kid. You didn't know you belonged to them yet. He presses a small kiss to the spot behind your ear, sending unpleasant shivers down your spine. But the same question is going through your mind, knife or unlimited void?

Eight.

You try to plead with Satoru, offering that you'll do anything for him to stop. He just shakes his head, though you notice a slight change in his face. He seems a little more..sorry. But he doesn't let up, still sitting on top of Hikaru's back and gripping the knife in his hands. Knife or unlimited void?

Nine.

You feel nauseous. This isn't real. It can't be. You don't know what to do. Why? Why? Why? You hate Satoru and Suguru with everything inside of you. ..Knife or unlimited void?

Ten.

Knife or unlimited void? Knife or unlimited void? Knife or unlimited void? Knife or unlimited void? Knife or unlimited void? Knife or unlimited void? Knife or unlimited void? Knife or unlimited void? Knife or unlimited void? Knife or unlimited void? Knife or-

"Please.." You sob and Satoru just shakes his head. "Choose, now." Suguru demands into your ear. "K-knife.." Your voice is trembling as you speak, hoping, begging, praying, that the knife was the better option.

But as you watch Satoru sink the knife into the back of Hikaru's hand, you know that's not true. "Mom-my-" Hikaru weeps out, his voice weak and clearly in pain. "Oh, you're crying out to your mommy? That's too bad, 'cus your mom belongs to me and Suguru okay? She doesn't love you anymore." Satoru mockingly coos as he leans more down towards Hikaru's head.

Hikaru just cries and screams as Satoru takes the knife from his hand before getting off of him, turning Hikaru over and onto his back. Satoru quickly starts to stab Hikaru's stomach over and over and over and over and over again. His shrieks and wails are drowned out by your own. They don't say anything, but Suguru moves and wraps his arms around you in a hug like this is hurting him more than it hurts you.

"It's okay." Suguru murmurs into your ear, as you see Satoru take the knife out of Hikaru's limp body once more, before pulling up his shirt, revealing the many stab wounds in his small torso. He takes the top of the knife into Hikaru's chest and begins to cut a line down, making a rectangle from the middle of Hikaru's chest down to his abdomen.

Your wailing has stopped and now only weak weeps are escaping your wet lips as you watch Satoru rip off the skin of the rectangle he made in Hikaru's torso. His organs have been revealed and Satoru starts to dig through them, making his fingers and palms messy and bloody.

The wet and horrible noises of Satoru ripping out Hikaru's small intestines and setting them aside don't register in your ears, all you can hear is ringing. He continues to dig, taking out all of the organs that he doesn't want before maneuvering his hands up and swiftly ripping out Hikaru's heart. Satoru stands, picking up Hikaru's intestines and he begins to walk towards you. Your eyes and cheeks are wet with your tears, snot bubbling at your nose, all of the mucus makes it hard to breath through your nose, so your mouth is open.

You're shaking as Satoru stands in front of you, your vision blurry as you stare at the organs that belong to your son in Satoru's hands. And the tears start flowing again. Your voice cracks as you loudly wail, your throat sore from crying so much already.

"It's gonna be okay, don't worry. You'll forget allll about him. Right Sugu'?" He smiles as he looks away from your face and at Suguru's. The long haired man nods, smiling back as Satoru moves and puts Hikaru's intestines on Suguru's shoulders like a morbid necklace. He then moves and grabs your hands, pressing the heart of your little boy in-between them and wrapping his hands around yours.

"We'll give you all the kids you want."

Notes: Sorryyy I haven't been posting as much!!!! I haven't had much motivation to write but I am trying to expand the types of things I write <33

[axcel-lucci]

Death will never keep us apart.

Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Note: established relationship, also... Slight... Angst?

"You can do it, (y/n)!" Bepo encouraged as he held her hand

It reassured her through deep pushes just to push their son out of her body.

"(Y/n)! One more, I promise this'll all be over soon!" Law said as he was the one aiding her.

"If fucking 47 hours in labour is 'soon', I'm fucked!" She yelled as she basically death gripped on Bepo's paw making the poor bear cry a little on the inside.

After all that, the baby was safely delivered.

She could could feel herself slowly getting weaker as she breathes I'm air.

"Hey..." Law called as he pulled of his gloves and his mask, "you did great..."

He kissed her forehead, "don't worry... They're taking care of the baby, cleaning him up and feeding him... Bepo, can you go and get the other bed ready?" Law said as he held her hand in which she weakly gripped unto.

The bear nodded and left, but not without taking a peak of the cute baby boy.

"Hey" he called, more sternly now, "are you alright?" He asked, worryingly as he checked her pulse.

Her pulse was gradually starting to get weaker, and weaker as she breathes heavily.

"(Y/n)..." He called, no response.

He called again, still no response until he felt the pulse suddenly disappear

"(Y/n)! No!" He yelled before holding unto her tight, "please...!"

...

"What... Where...?" (Y/n) muttered before looking around to a white void she found herself waking up at.

She remembers giving birth and...

"Am I..."

"Yes, you are dead." Someone with a smooth voice said behind her as she turned around to see an angel smiling down softly at her

"What... No. No! I can't!"

...

"(Y/n)! Please, please, please wake up!" Law begged as he did all procedures he can think of just to have her heart beat right back.

The crew held on to the now sleeping baby in their arms, afraid that if they handed him the baby... He'd lose himself.

....

"What do you mean? Your life has come to an end, is it not?" The angel smiles with its voice, "is it not enough rat you have successfully delivered a baby boy, changed his father's life for the better, and found a family...?"

"No. It's not enough. I grew up without a mother, I... Don't even know who my mother is... I don't want to come a time when... Even my own child doesn't know who I am. And Law... My husband... He... He lost so many... I promised him I'd stay by him until the end-"

"This is the end." The angel said, almost annoyingly, "your end, that is"

She frowned, "no. Bring me back. Now." She demanded, "my baby... My husband..." She grumbled, "I can't leave them. I don't want to leave them."

"But this is your fate, the fate that our creator has written for us..." The angel reasoned

"No. I do not accept this creator. I do not accept whatever fictional stories they're writing. I do NOT accept whatever they do. What, are we all just a doll to them??" She questioned

"That's not-"

"Shut. Up. We are not dolls, I am a mother and a wife. You are an angel. Not puppets and specially not dolls." She growled, "either you bring me back or you'll have to drag me kicking and screaming to the depths of hell"

"Angels don't go to hell..." The angel cried a bit before sighing deeply; "you know... When the creator said you'd be resisting... I didn't expect them to mean... This..."

"Well guess what, I won't be resisting if you bring me back. My husband is waiting for me, he cannot raise a child because he himself is an inner child... And it's my job to protect my children." She huffed

The angel just stared before sighing, "you seriously are a crazy woman... Most, if not all, the people that die come willingly... But you... You're different... I guess that's a mother's love... Huh?"

She just stomped her foot, "bring me back or I will seriously inflict irreversible damage to you and your piece of shit morals."

"Woah! No need to get so verbal...!" The angel gasped, "okay...! Okay...! I'll... I'll send you back..."

"That's what I thought."

"Gosh... The creator is so gonna scold me..."

...

"(Y/n), please...!" Law yelled as he kept giving her CPR

"Captain..." Shachi said, "I think it's.."

"No! She's not dead...! I know it!" He yelled before turnin to his crew, will visible hurt and anger in his eyes but tears kept spilling out, "get me a fucking blood bag instead! And make sure it's her blood type!"

"Y-yes sir...!" The crew nodded as Ikkaku held on to the sweet baby boy, unaware of what's happening around him.

He turned back to (y/n) only to slowly cup her cheeks with his hands, they were shivering... Trembling...

One would think a surgeon's hand would be steady and precise but...

His hands were shaking as he cupped her cheeks and desperately called out to her in almost a ragged whisper, "please... (Y/n)... Come back... I can't raise him alone... I can't raise our baby alone... I can't... I can't live without you... Please..." He begged while softly yet shakily kissing her in hopes that she wakes up, "... Please" his voice quivered.

He slowly starts to lose hope and accept her death, "please... Just... One more time... Please..." He cried.

The stoic and cold demeanour washed away by the fountains and rivers of his continuous tears.

Law kissed her lips, softly yet shakily before one of his hand hold hers in a tight grip, "please..." He muttered, "please wake up..."

A few moments later and he felt her hand twitch making him gasp and stand up straight, he could feel her hand grip his again as she tried her best to open her eyes only to close them back up from exhaustion.

One of his crew finally came back with a blood bag and law immediately hooked it to her, "(y/n)...!" He slowly smiled before she lifted a hand to his face.

Her hand missed when she tried to hold his face due to the haziness of her vision, "Law..."

"Rest up, my love..." He said before wiping away his tears, "and as soon as you wake up, you can see little Cora." He smiled before kissing her forehead

"Law... You bastard..." She laughed weakly, "I still don't appreciate the literal hours of my labour."

"I know... My love... I promise, I'll take good care of you and the baby forever. Just tell me what you need, I'll give them to you"

She smiled, "give me a kiss... Please?"

"Yes..." He smiled before kissing her.

...

She slowly woke up to the smell of isopropyl alcohol and anesthesia as it slowly wears off.

She ground before lifting a hand to rub her eyes open.

"Dear...! You're finally awake" he smiled brightly as he stood beside her bed and helped her sit up

"Ow... Ow..." She groaned, "is this fucking normal?" She frowned as he massaged her body

"Yes... It is."

"Dammit... I'm so not having another child." She huffed while crossing her arms

"Aww... But I want three children..." He pouts cutely making her huff

"Yeah yeah... Me too" she grumbled, "wait...! What happened to baby Cora?!"

"Shh... Here..." He smiled and motioned to a small hospital bed meant for babies beside him.

He slowly took the baby to his arms, supporting the places he knew needed to be supported and hands it over to her.

She gladly took the baby into her arms as he sleeps peacefully in a blanket Klione knitted for him.

"Oh... Law..." She smiled as she stared at the literal "copy, paste" of law and his child, "I'm upset how he looks so much like you and yet I'm the one who almost died"

"Come now..." He muttered and hugged her waist, "I'm sure he has your traits." He smiled before kissing her shoulder, "and... Thank you"

"For what?" She looked at him with a small smile

"For staying... I thought you were gonna die, too..." He mumbled

"Law..." She smiled before kissing his cheek, "fun fact, I grilled that angel right open as he tried dragging me off to the afterlife"

Law laughed softly, "so... Even death won't keep us apart, no?" He smiled.

"I guess it is..." She chuckled, "also... It hurts like literal hell, law... Can I have at least some pain meds??"

Law chuckled before nodding, "but you can take them later after eating..." He kissed her forehead, "I love you so much..."

"I love you more..." She smiled and kissed him.

He smiled before kissing back.

[doomsdayradio]

honestly i wish people would just talk more about how like. exhausting HPD can be. (this may also apply in part to NPD as well, as after writing this it kinda sounds like a mix of our HPD and NPD symptoms.)

my brain is 100% of the time, 24/7, non-fucking-stop trying to figure out how to make things about me or trying to figure out how to twist a conversation to be about me. it is just about as exhausting as it sounds and even more exhausting to resist lest i sound like a self-absorbed jackass to people who don't know about or understand my PD(s).

i understand objectively my friends care about me, i understand objectively them not giving me 100% of their attention 100% of the time and not making every conversation about me exclusively doesn't mean they don't care about me or love me, but that's how my brain reacts to it. i feel rejected and worthless and and stupid for wanting their attention in the first place when i fail at attempting to twist a conversation towards me.

this kind of shit especially amps up when people are venting to me, like i have other problems with empathy and venting due to my other PDs and past trauma, but the constant "i don't care. we should be talking about me. i want to talk about me. i should purposefully trigger myself into a breakdown after this so you'll pay attention to me" in the back of my head makes me want to fucking scream.

speaking of that quote by the way, yes, i will literally purposefully put myself in states of active distress and disarray because i know my friends will pay attention to me when i do it. i don't fake breakdowns, the breakdowns are very real, but i very much did it on purpose.

yes i know that's toxic as fuck, i don't like it either! i am working on healthier ways to ask for attention when i need it but this is the fucking disorder at work! it's exhausting! it is so fucking exhausting to be like this all the time. it feels like no amount of attention is ever going to be good enough for me, like i'm going to spend every day until i fucking die just trying to make it feel like enough and trying to fill some fucking void and it'll just never be good enough.

i'll never run away from the harm my symptoms possibly cause other people, i know being hyperaware of how my brain works and it's affinity for attention can be anxiety inducing for some of my friends, but it's just so fucking exhausting. you get a break from me, i don't. i could be talking to literally no one, i could be watching a fucking video, and my brain would somehow still be trying to make that video about me. i just want a break from my brain. constantly trying to do this shit means it's constantly on high alert and that's just one reason of many that it is. i just want it to stop.

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| In A Week ||

frank castle x female reader

Tags/warnings: sad, angsty, reader is um... dead, Frank is not dealing well, implied sort-of suicide attempt/lack of care.

I recommend reading the short fic Seeya first if you want to amp up the sadness! 😜

It's been a while since he's been here, usually it was almost everyday without fail but lately…

When he places his hand on the earth it feels warm, but only from the waning afternoon sun. The sky is that heavy, stormy yellow-grey colour now, and as he tilts his head up and closes his eyes he can feel the pressure change in the muggy air. 

You loved storms. Told him countless times there was magic in them but damn, he'd swear the magic was all you as you had dragged him out on the balcony and kissed him stupid in the pouring rain. 

And then, not long after, God had said no. There would be no more dancing in the storms, no dinners out, no weekend adventures, no more sleepy mornings wrapped up in each other. No more anything for you, for his girl. 

Whatever purpose this God had in mind for you, it was done, but he wasn't yet done with Frank.

take me you motherfucking coward, take me.

He wishes so hard that it was the sound of your laughter echoing in his ears instead of the fading of your final breath. He tries picturing the brightness of your eyes and the warmth of your smile, but all he can see is the jolting of your  vulnerable body as the bullets ripped through and took you from him.

I'm so sorry, baby. Should've done better by you. It should've been me.

He's not asking for forgiveness as he whispers those words into the soft wind. If you could reach across the void he'd eagerly listen for your punishment, he'd beg you to tell him exactly how to suffer, because he'd do it a million times over and it still wouldn't be enough. It can't ever be enough.

One minute you were there, smiling, laughing, screaming, loving him, and then you just… weren't. 

It's okay, I'll see you…

He didn't understand, despite the myriad of lives he's taken he couldn't get his head around how this had happened. How he'd let it. It wasn't supposed to happen to you, you were meant to be different, separate to all of that, untouchable.

He hunches over, his fingers digging hard into the wet soil like you'd just reach up through it and he could bring you back. Or that you'd pull him under with you.

But you don't. His throat closes up, his body shakes but his sobs are muted by the thunder, and tears are lost in the rain.

He presses his fingers first to his lips, then to the letters of your name carved in the headstone.

Seeya.

He leans up against it as comfortably as he can with the way he's bleeding out. 

It's over. It won't be that long until he's with you again.

Things are just starting to get murky and go dark when he feels his body being lifted up.

Stop fighting me Frank, I'm trying to help

no… 

A weak murmur at first, then louder as he regains consciousness.

"NO! Leave me here, let me be with her! Let me be with her!" Even in his weakened state he's roaring, furious desperation cracking his voice as he's pulled further away from you.

"You know I can't do that."

So then, this was his punishment, to be dragged back into a living hell by the devil. To suffer a life without you in it.

"I'm gonna… kill you," Frank rasps, "I'm gonna fuckin' kill you, Red."

The devil wasn't for listening, hoisting him over his shoulders and staggering up the hill. "Yeah okay, but later. Gotta get you to a hospital first."

"Just let me fuckin' go Red, let me die. I'm done."

~

The incessant steady beep of the heart monitor was mocking him. The holes in him now stitched and taped up, proof of life soaking through the stark white dressings.

"Hey." Red says from the corner of the room.

Frank winces. Goddamn fucking self-righteous prick was always interfering. Taking his choice from him. He wanted to wring his neck but the fight in him was quickly draining away as he remembered just why they were here.

"I- I can't, can't do this without her." Frank's voice was quiet and hoarse as it broke. He didn't give a fuck if Red could smell his fucking tears or whatever, he was just full on crying rivers now. It was one thing at least that had been getting easier.

Matt comes closer to the side of the bed.

"She'd want you to live for her, you know that Frank. You're strong, you can survive."

Frank scoffs and shakes his head before wiping tears away. "Sh-she was it for me, made me strong… an' I don't know… she was everything."

Matt's hand is gentle on his shoulder.

"And that's why you have to keep on going, for her. Ask me how I know."

Frank didn't need to, he knew what Red had gone through, brought to a low place he almost hadn't come back from. 

Matt sighs, remembering. "It's not easy. It takes time, but you're not alone, and you've got help if you need it."

Frank's in a daze, doesn't know if it's the blood loss or what but he just keeps on shaking his head. "I dunno Red, I dunno."

I'm lost. I'm so lost.

"It's alright, we'll figure it out."

Frank feels gutted out, vacant. Memories of you like they happened yesterday reel through his mind and sting the backs of his eyes like someone has jammed fucking razorblades in there.

Sure, whatever you say Red. 

"Yeah, yeah."

[hourousha-chu]

Killers React to a Drunk Survivor- The Trickster (Ji-Woon Hak)

How were you supposed to know that the Entity planned on snatching you for a trial soon as you hit the bottle? All you wanted was to take the edge off. Granted, it seemed to work as everything was much more of a blur now. You stumbled through Ormond with nary a shiver, the booze keeping you nice and warm inside. Who said this wasn't a perk in itself?

Soon, the telltale lullaby of a killer sent your heart racing. But your inhibitions were out the window, and you gravitated towards the familiar melody.

Oh, the look on The Trickster's face when a darling little survivor ran not away from his blades, but right into his chest.

"Ji-SWOON cutie! Haven't seen you in foreverrrr! I missed youuuu!"

He didn't know whether to be annoyed, flabbergasted, or flattered. Actually, yeah, go with all three. All he could do for a moment was stare dumbly at you, mouth slightly agape, as you nuzzled against him without shame, arms securely wrapped around his torso.

Clearing his throat, he glanced around to ensure no one was watching. "Someone was too eager for an encore, hm? I'm touched, honey." He hesitated before awkwardly patting your head while trying to push you away. No such luck. The contact only made you push your head against his hand like a cat, practically begging for more. Did you have to giggle so sweetly like that?

It was obvious you were out of sorts. One glance at your extra rosy cheeks confirmed that you had to be drunk. Had you been drinking in the trial grounds? There was technically a bar here, but he couldn't imagine it was stocked. Now that he thought of it, he didn't remember anything like this happening before. Survivors were supposed to be coherent and have basic self-preservation instincts at the very least.

The Trickster clicked his tongue and sighed. He lifted you onto his shoulder with no resistance, earning a delighted squeal. "Yaaaay! Hook me, daddy!"

You were going to be the death of him. "You're not mentally fit for a trial right now." He ignored your protests as he carried you upstairs to one of the bedrooms in the lodge. Setting you down onto a cot, he turned briskly to leave you. "Go find the Hatch once I've finished the others."

His shoulders tensed when he heard you sniffle. Against his better judgment, he turned to see your eyes watering.

"D-do ya not like me?" you blubbered. "I thought you liked my screams 'n stuff…"

Entity help him. "Would you rather I took advantage of you instead?" he muttered.

You really looked like you were considering it for a second before you shook your head. "No, it's just…I'm so lonely…"

The Trickster ran a hand through his hair and exhaled through his nose. "Look. If you set a trap for a rabbit, but the rabbit is watching eagerly, ready to jump into it, it's not a hunt. No chase or challenge or satisfaction." Sure, Evan might be appeased and Danny might die laughing. Not the point. "So rest up and come back when you're ready to be a good little bunny, all right? Then I'll happily spend some quality time hunting you down."

That made your cheeks positively glow. You cupped them in a way that should not have been adorable at all and nodded your head. "O-okay Ji-Swoon! I promise I'll be good!"

You laid down and he was pleasantly surprised at your obedience. He couldn't help but smirk. Stalking closer, The Trickster leaned in to peck your forehead. "There's my good bunny. Now don't make me come looking for you again."

In that moment, you could've died happy.

Once you escaped and the foggy memories came crashing back, you actually wanted to die. Maybe you'd get sent to the Void if you were lucky.

Of course, you were offered no such reprieve. It was a while until you had another trial with The Trickster, and you prayed he'd forgotten.

Of course he hadn't.

He pinned you to the wall after leaving you for last, a smug grin on his face. "How's my good little bunny? Feeling better than last time, I hope?"

You grunt and tried to free yourself, about to retort, but his hand brushed your head ever so slightly. For just a moment, you relaxed and leaned into him, your body remembering when he...

"...I'll give you a good chase then you can Mori me. Permanently, if that's possible."

Your bodies were so close that his chuckle rumbled against your chest. You cursed yourself for the involuntary chill that ran down your spine. "Aw, but why? I thought we could spend some quality time together, since you're so lonely."

Your cheeks blossomed indignant red. "Asshole, I was drunk! Don't use that against me!"

"They say that alcohol unmasks the true desires of the heart. You certainly had a lot to say that day, honey."

He leaned in closer, breath fanning your face. "Quite honestly, I found it adorable. Besides…you're not the only one that's lonely, and wanting."

He used your shock to nuzzle closer to you, one hand snaking around your waist while the other petted your hair. Your muscles went slack at his touch.

"I believe I deserve some thanks after treating you with such dignity and patience. I'd like to hear how you feel for me while you're sober."

You didn't try to get away as his lips closed in. "And," he whispered, "I want to feel it too."

A fog enveloped your brain once more, similar to when you'd been drunk, except now his lips were the culprit. You gasped for air when he finally pulled away, gaze lidded.

He was smirking, as always, but something else hid behind his gaze. Something softer. "See? I have the same effect on you, but better. You don't need to get wasted when the perfect remedy is right here."

You rolled your eyes at his cheesiness, but smiled. "Even if that were true, I can't exactly drag you back to the campfire with me whenever I want."

He pouted. "How do you know? You've never tried." Your incredulous stare made him laugh again. You couldn't help but chuckle as well. "I'm just saying, I want my bunny to stay healthy. So they can give me many, many rewarding hunts."

Before you could reply, he rested his head against your chest so he could hear your heartbeat. "But perhaps, just this once, I'll take that missed opportunity and keep you company."

Your touch-starved body melted into him, and your eyes fluttered shut. "...I'd like that."

(Cross-posted from my AO3!)

[nonuggetshere]

Hollow Knight AU drabble + doodle under the cut

In which Pure Vessel sacrifices all appearances to protect their father.

TW: Blood, injury, mention of potential death

Yes I know Pale King would probably not go down so easily, he's a god after all, but let me have this (I'll be reworking the AU to have it actually make sense, eventually)

"Vessel-"

The king rasped from where he was laying. It was low and guttural as blood spilled from his mouth, and inwardly he cursed himself out for being so careless, for straying into a possibly dangerous territory, for letting these beasts sneak up on them. He managed to fell most of their opponents, but he had been careless, and now he laid there, crumbled on the ground with a deep gash in his body, all of his soul reserves drained in the fight and unable to heal.

It had lifted its head up, waiting for the order to come, yet it kept its eyes on the enemy, nail drawn at the ready.

"Find the queen and flee. I'll try to hold them off for as long as I can." That last sentence was more said to himself than the vessel, for he knew it couldn't truly understand him.

Was it truly how he, a great king and god, would have his light snuffed out? He supposed he had no one to blame but his own ignorance and hubris. No matter, right now it was the vessel that truly mattered, for it was too precious to lose. The fate of Hallownest rested in its hands alone. He might die, but his kingdom will prevail, as long as it makes it out of here.

...

...The vessel... didn't budge...

It had tilted its head ever so slightly to glance back at him. Had it not heard him the first time?

So he spoke again, louder and clearer this time.

"Vessel, I order you to retreat and find the queen!"

It turned its head back to focus on the enemy, it took a half-step back, for a moment it looked almost as if it was hesitating...and then it lunged at their opponents.

For a moment, what was left of the king's breath caught in his throat. He laid there, frozen on the spot as he watched his vessel fight with all its might to protect him. Watched it disobey his orders.

"Is-- is it an ancient order of mine preventing you from doing your biding now?! Fine then, I relieve you of all the previous duties, now flee!"

It was as although it did not hear him...or deliberately chose to ignore him.

He felt his breath pick up and his wings buzzed as he strained to scream over the sound of blades clanking against each other.

"Vessel, I order you to flee! Stand down, now! Vessel!"

...

...They did not listen.

They stood amongst the bodies, atop the blood-stained ground, their nail weighing heavy in their hand. They leaned on it for support as they turned to their king, slowly limping up to him, with each step seeming a great struggle. Their lean frame shook as they slouched over under the weight of their armour, void spilling freely from where their left arm used to be and dripping from the cracks in their face.

They loomed over the king, their shadow almost completely covering his small, frail body. The two of them locked eyes and, for a moment that felt like forever, they just stared at each other in that heavy, oppressive silence; before the pale Wyrm forced his mouth into moving once more.

...

Their nail fell to the ground with a clank as they stepped closer to him. They leaned down and reached for him, and threw him onto their back. They wiggled and readjusted until they were sure he wasn't going to fall off, then slowly and carefully stood up while holding onto his arm.

The king could no longer even protest as they started to limp away, allowing his head to slump over on their shoulder as darkness overtook him.

[raccoxn]

DEAD OF NIGHT • SOAP X CIVILIAN!READER PART 2

SCENARIO: you're a civilian who got caught up in a mission soap was on. he ends up in your care while the rest of the 141 is dealing with the mission at hand while looking for him. 

you live in a small cabin and it's quite literally in the middle of the woods. it's big enough for one or two people, so taking in soap wasn't an issue. the only issue on the table was the fact he was bleeding out...

**told in y/n pov**

+

By the time I got into town, the sun was just cresting over the mountains and illuminating the sky. I kept glancing to my phone to see if Moira send a text back on meeting me, but I didn't see anything yet.  So, I opted to go buy new clothes for Soap since he was filthy and covered in blood. He could probably use a shower too so i'll get him his own shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.

I parked at the front of the small store and got out of my car, eyeing the open sign and sighing in relief. I'm never in town often since I come once or twice a month to get things I need. I just don't like people, so living alone was great.

Until Soap came into your life, a small part of me grumbled. I couldn't agree more, but I couldn't let him die. I'm not that heartless.

I walked into the store and waved to the cashier. He waved back before going on his phone again, completely engulfed in whatever he was doing. I made my way to the men's section and grabbed anything that would suit Soap. I grabbed t-shirts, henley shirts, sweatpants, sweatshirts, wool socks, underwear—anything to keep him comfortable. I didn't know what size he was, but I took a guess with a large or extra large, then moved on to toiletries. I grabbed travel sized items then went to the medical area to get bandages, ointments, and more ibuprofen and melatonin. If he's going to be with me for awhile, might as well give him a supply of his own.

I noticed a woman staring at me as I grabbed a couple bottles of men's shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. She then eyed my cart full of clothes and other medical items.

"My brother's an idiot. Forgot all his clothes at home and then had the audacity to cut himself with a kitchen knife while cooking." I grumbled at her and she walked away. I wasn't in the mood for that.

Once I got what Soap needed, I pushed my cart to the snack aisle. I grabbed three boxes of poptarts, some chips, and a jar of Tostitos queso. 

My phone buzzed on my pocket and I pulled it out, seeing a text from my pharmacist friend, Moira. I had explained to her VERY vaguely that I needed stronger medication for Soap without mentioning him, but judging from her text message, she wasn't going to give me any. I tried to convince her again, but she just told me to buy Tylenol, ibuprofen, and make sure to keep him elevated enough. After that, she completely ignored my text messages and I was left in my problems yet again.

Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I started to head in the direction of the checkout. As I walked closer, I noticed a group of armed men enter the store and the few of us in here started to panic. I stayed where I was and ducked behind the cart as if it would protect me. 

"Stay calm, everyone!" One of the men shouted, his Spanish accent heavy as he looked at everyone around him. The cashier I waved to earlier glanced to me and tried to come over. Gun shots went off and everyone screamed. The cashier fell to the ground, bullet wounds littering his body and his eyes stared at mine. 

I stood up completely when the armed men glanced at everyone.

"We're from the Las Almas cartel, and we're looking for someone who has info about our leader, El Sin Nombre. He's Special Forces—goes by the call sign Soap."

I kept my face void of emotion but I was screaming inwardly. How the hell was I going to get out of this situation alive? More importantly, why are cartel members so far up here? Like I thought before, I knew it wasn't impossible, but it was weird to me. I always thought of them as staying by the border..... I don't know if that's stereotypical or not....

"My men last saw him around this area. This is a small town. Someone must have seen a tactical-armed hombre with a stupid little mohawk?"

I almost cracked a smile and laughed at his statement, but I stayed silent. One of the men walked amongst the other terrified customers, his eyes looking over the groceries and items they had. I stared back at him when he approached me, his eyes looking at the mens clothing and toiletries in my cart.

He shouted in Spanish at me before he aimed his gun at my head. I didn't even flinch or scream when he did that, but rather stared with a bored look at my face. How was I doing this shit emotionlessly?!

"I have a name, y'know."

"You've seen him. Where?"

"I haven't seen him, you idiot. I'm buying clothes for my brother because he's a dumbass and forgot to bring his entire duffel bag to visit me."

I kept my gaze steady on the cartel member in front of me, my heart pounding against my chest and my head getting light. I kept my hands on my pockets to keep them from shaking, but I also dialed 911 by triple-pressing my lock button. 

"You don't come clean, we'll kill you!"

"Even if I kept the guy you're hunting for under my watch, you don't have evidence to prove it!"

He grabbed the front of my shirt and hit the end of his gun to my temple. He got in my face, his hot breath hitting my skin and I resisted the urge to gag from how it smelled.

"We'll kill everyone here if you don't tell us."

"Just tell them!" A bystander shouted from her cart.

"Tell them! I can't die!"

"Save us!"

"Don't kill us, please! I have a baby at home!"

I looked at the innocents around me, strategizing a way to bargain and even get everyone out alive. I didn't care what happened to me. If I died, that would insure Soap's secrecy and safety. 

But who would take care of Nic?

I sighed and nodded my head, telling them I would concede....not that I'm actually going to tell them where I live....

"Before I tell you, I want to strike a deal: everyone here gets to leave unharmed and not threatened. They remain anonymous. Second, if I tell you, I get to go free as well. Whether I'm unharmed or not, I get to go."

I happened to see something flicker from the back of a truck, then I saw someone duck down behind my car. The realization of who they were hit me and I decided now would be a good time to get out of the way.

"Anything else?" 

"Yeah. How good are your reflexes?" I threw a box of poptarts at hm before diving behind a cash register. That's when all the bullets came through and the cartel members either dropped dead or scattered. 

I tried to crawl toward one of the aisles but I was grabbed my the ankles. A remaining cartel member yanked me back, clawing at my legs and getting on top of me.

"Everyone run to the emergency exits!" I shouted and they didn't hesitate to do just that. 

My fear overwhelmed me as I started to cry and scream for help. My "tough guy" facade was no more, and now I was a sobbing mess.

"GET OFF ME!" I screamed as I kicked him in the face and crawled. 

A gun shot went off again, but this time it was me who got shot. The bullet burned into my calf and a scream ripped from my throat. I couldn't move as he grabbed me by the back of my shirt and yanked me upwards.

"You kill me, you kill this one!" The cartel member shouted as I cried. I looked out the shattered windows, seeing that the cops and Soap's team was aiming their weapons at me.

"TAKE THE SHOT!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, fearful tears streaming down my face. "TAKE THE SHOT!"

I closed my eyes and moved my head away to clear a shot. When I heard the bullet tear through the man's skull and his grip loosened, the two of us fell, except he was dead and I was a sobbing mess.

I felt someone gently place their hand on my shoulder as I cried from everything I felt. Pain, fear, trauma, my worry for my dog—hell, even Soap crossed my mind.

"You're the one who helped Johnny. Where is he?!" That familiar British accent asked me as I started to drift off.

I managed to tell him my address before completely blacking out, my head resting on my arm and tears continuing to drench my face.

+

When I woke up, I was greeted by an annoyingly bright light and the smell of disinfectant and alcohol. I blinked rapidly as I looked to my left, seeing Soap in the hospital bed beside mine. He was asleep and had oxygen tubes at his nose.

"You're awake. Finally."

I looked over at the corner to see a hooded man with a skull mask on. Only his eyes were visible and there was black smudged around them. When he stood, I couldn't help but stare. He was a unit....like, his bicep was probably the size of my head.

"No shit, Sherlock." I sighed, keeping my awe under control as he walked up to me. I could tell he was untrusting of me, but after glancing over to Soap, he loosened up a bit.

"I hear you found him?"

"More like he broke into my cabin and temporarily passed out in the bath tub. I stitched him up as best as I could and helped him rest. I just didn't expect, well, this."

I gestured to my elevated leg that was bandages heavily.

"I'm guessing you're the one Soap calls Ghost. I'm sorry I was cryptic when I replied to your 'how copy'." I did an impression of his accent and he stared back with a blank look. "I didn't mean to sound like I was holding him hostage."

The two of us went silent for a moment before the room door opened. Another man walked in, but he wasn't masked. He seemed more welcoming than Ghost but he still intimidated me.

"Y/N L/N, the one who, to an extent, saved Soap's life. While you were extremely cryptic in that response, I thank you for keeping my comrade safe. I'm also impressed with how you handled the whole hostage situation."

"Oh, that was pure adrenaline, now that I think about it. I sobbed like a baby when I dove away."

The man laughed a little and walked up to me.

"I'm Captain John Price, but you can call me John. The masked one is Ghost, and Soap is John McTavish."

"Do I get to know Ghost's real name?"

"Negative." Ghost responded and I looked away.

"Fair enough. Wait! My dog, Nic! Is she—"

"One of my men, Gaz, and two of our allies, Alejandro and Rudy, are taking care of her. If the hospital allows, we can bring her in."

I relaxed when I heard she was okay, sighing in relief as I ran a hand through my hair. I glanced to Soap when I heard him grumble and stir in his sleep. Price and Ghost immediately joined his side when he woke up, his Scottish accent hoarse and scratchy from being asleep.

"Bloody hospital..."

"Agreed." I said from my side and he looked at me. I pressed my lips together, staring at him as he stared back.

"Can I speak to Y/N alone?" Soap asked as he looked at his two friends. They glanced at me before nodding, the two leaving and Soap and I stayed silent for a moment.

I picked at my nails as Soap started to speak.

"I want to thank you. Ghost told me what you did for me while we were in the ambulance."

"It was nothing. Figured I got morals, might as well use them."

Soap laughed at my statement before looking at his hands. 

"You remind me of Ghost in a way. He's the same as you: doesn't like people but he still has the honorable morals."

"Glad I could be of service." 

Soap nodded, but I noticed his expression became solemn.

"What?"

"Once I leave, it'll be like we never met one another. I'll go back to being in the field; you'll go back to whatever you do...."

"Do you want my phone number?"

I looked at him with my eyebrow raised, the man staring in shock over me being so straightforward. I almost laughed but I didn't to keep the unfazed facade up. Inwardly, I was screeching and kicking my feet. I mean, it's not everyday a man covered in blood and grime comes into your life to make it interesting.

"That'd be nice." He replied, smiling softly as he looked back at me. I felt my cheek heat up.

"Do you have a phone I can put it in?" I managed to get out and scratched the back of my head nervously.

"How about writing it down on paper?"

"Dude, that's so middle school..." 

I looked at him, Soap completely confused about what I said but I didn't elaborate. Instead, I grabbed a tissue from the Kleenex box on the bedside table and held out my hand.

"Do you have a pen?"

+   +   +

pt.3?

[katyspersonal]

I've had one of the worst crying fits in a while just. Simply venting from time to time, to friends or the void, no longer helps.. I assumed there was the logic same as throwing up - you let it out and thus heal. But it seems like it was more like linking fire logic - it keeps offering remedy for as long as possible, but meanwhile all the banished darkness keeps stocking into a dam (the deep) until the dam inevitably fills...

My problem is that my biggest problem can not be solved. It is permanent. I thought I was strong enough to just assume it as my new life, but recent months the ugliest things possible are finding their way in my heart. In retrospective I suspected that the day where I finally die (metaphorically!) will come and it will feel like a blessing to finally give up and drown, no more struggle. The day it finally eats me could not come soon enough, I thought. And yet somehow after everything I feel nothing but scared and disgusted, and still clinging to the words offering focus I've heard before, to my concepts of morality even after I saw how it is all pointless. I don't know what it is that still makes me resist even if I see that I can't anymore and falling apart at the seams. Recently I even screamed for God's help even though I am not a Christian. It is this bad. I can't ignore or resist this problem any longer, I can't manage by just venting every time it hurts because the metaphorical dam is full, I can't solve it... What do I do...?

I am developing the feelings I didn't know I had capacity for and feelings that have no place in this world... unless they do, and I just don't see the way to "turn" safely. To accept all this without giving up or becoming a horrible person, but just 'allowing' it. In other words I don't know how to break in the same way as a chunk of metal melts to be shaped into a new thing. So I'll just break eventually, after I keep up for a bit longer. I have no choice but to let out and then immediately pick myself up with hope right after, but this option has expired its function.

[fic-pickyourpoison]

Okay , I keep re-reading the most recent chapters and a what if/au keeps rattling around.

What would it look like if Law and Lami were separated and didn't find each other until Dressrosa? Lami forced to stay under Doflomingo?

Spicy, I like it.

AU / What if Lami were forced to stay under Dolfamingo when the siblings separated?

Law doesn't recognize the woman before him.

There are similarities, of course-- his mother's hair, their father's eyes. The cocky, arrogant stance of someone with the bone-deep assurance that nothing could make them hurt in any way worthwhile. It's almost comforting, in the most ironic of ways, to see that this has not changed. There is a burning at the back of his eyes, an emotion that he has not allowed himself to feel in years.

Looking at his sister had always been akin to staring into a void; intangible and speaking in foreign tongues.

But, no, Law does not recognize this person.

She stares at him with bland, sallow eyes. Irises as black as they've ever been; the bottomless pit of the world-known conundrum that was his sister. But there is no recognition to her features. No joy or anger.

Law closes his eyes. Grief roots itself into his chest.

He knows, without a doubt, that he is simply a stranger to her now.

-

"No!" She shouts, scrambling over the snow in a frantic. She has to hurry, she has to hurry, she has to hurry-- She skids in front of Corazon's prone form, feeling her knees scrape and tear. Her fingers are red from the chill and her hands shake as she raises them in front of her.

Doflamingo stands before her, gun outstretched and now pointing at her chest.

"Dove," he says, voice bland, "move aside."

She breathes in and out, calling upon the lightning that lives in her veins as she says, "I can't. I won't."

For a long moment, she is convinced that he is going to shoot her. The cold that she feels in his voice is far more chilling than the North Blue could ever hope to achieve--but she stands strong, jaw set, as she stares him down.

"Lami--" behind her, Corazon chokes out her name. There is anguish in his tone--it rattles her heart to its core.

"You know what we do with traitors, don't you?" Doflamingo says, an eyebrow quirking up.

"He's your brother," she insists, as though a man as cold-hearted as this would ever bother to care for such a fact, "he deserves a second chance."

Doflamingo pauses. His head tilts gradually to the side.

"Please." It does not hurt her pride to beg, in this moment. It is simply a pragmatic necessity. "Please, give him another chance."

-

Law is gone. Law is safe.

She repeats this to herself over and over.

This is all that matters, now.

-

Lami stands at Corazon's side as she stitches him back together. It is gruesome work, but a few bullet wounds won't hurt a man like this. Her hope, her saviour--Corazon has wept nonstop since they got back on the ship.

Even when Doflamingo arrives, the younger brother continues to weep with an arm thrown over his face.

Failure, she supposes, runs deep.

Doflamingo hands her an apple--it takes her by surprise. She sets aside the gauze and her gloves and accepts the gift.

"How cruel of you to make him stay, despite knowing how much he suffers. Fufufu~ It would have been kinder to let him die." Doflamingo murmurs, soft in a way that might convince those who didn't know any better. "And here I had thought he had grown out of his tears. Pity. I suppose it was all just an act, too, in the end."

His voice gradually seeps into a slow, quiet laugh as he stretches out a hand over Corazon's chest.

"Don't worry, Dove. I'll ensure that there won't be a second time for betrayal."

Strings curl out from his fingers and crawl into his brother's skin. Lami can only watch in quiet horror as Corazon's body arches and as his mouth parts in a silent scream.

Anger quickly takes over as she whips to hiss, "What are you-"

"Be a good girl," Doflamingo says, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "or I'll crush his heart."

His fingers twitch and the apple in her hand splits into seventeen pieces.

She stares at the juice that starts to drip from her fingers, static finding its way to her ears as Doflamingo continues to laugh.

-

The skies of Dressrosa are bright and clear.

It takes time for Lami to get accustomed. Her skin is hardened for the chill of the North Blue's eternal winter, but the sun here is searing. It beats down on her, sizzling, in the same way a red-hot end of an iron poker makes her skin bubble and peel. She lives with the discomfort.

Lami holds no ill-will towards it and simply accepts the heat in sufferance.

She understands that this is the very fabric of the island battling against them, nature revolting against the poison that has been infected in its ecosystem. After everything, the blistering heat is the bare minimum of what the Donquixote deserve for what they have done to the people of Dressrosa.

With his strings and broken promises, Doflamingo makes the land bend and break. Soon enough they have kneeled, its citizens segregated and melded to the desire of their new leader.

Lami watches with bland eyes. She wishes she could forget, too.

-

She is twenty and a party is thrown at the top of the castle.

Scantily clad men and women lounge across the pool patio as food and drink are passed around. The Elite Officers sit upon their dedicated seats, watching their respective prey with the lax of a fattened cat. Fast-beat music starts to play as the final rays of sun start to dwindle; a woman drags Diamante up to dance and suddenly the entire patio has turned into a rave.

Baby 5 and Buffalo sit at a table with five other people playing blackjack--or, at least, she's pretty sure it's black jack. She's also pretty sure that Buffalo keeps taking Baby 5's winnings.

Lami crosses her arms over her chest as she watches them from the roof, a fruity drink with an umbrella in hand.

( Three hours ago she had sawed a man apart.

She can still smell the blood and bone marrow. Lami's not entirely convinced that she had cleaned it all out from the cracks in her fingernails.

I must live in a different world than these people, she thinks. How carefree they must be, to dance and drink and fuck, while others are getting their limbs taken off piece by piece for the consumption of others. )

A flash of pink catches her attention. Lami observes as Doflamingo wades into the crowd of dancers--closer and closer to the dancing princess, who drags him into the center of the throng of people. It doesn't take long before they are near melded together, swaying to the beat of the music.

Lami's stomach twists with revulsion at the sight. She knows what's going to happen, later.

Violet is only a few years older than her.

Tossing her glass into the sea of dancers, Lami slides off the roof and slips through a window before the chaos of the shattering glass ensues.

-

Lami is twenty-three the first time she sees Law since they were children.

It's only a picture--his bounty poster splayed across the world as part of the "Worst Generation". The doctor of Death, they say. She stares at the figure in the photo; features similar but different.

Grief finds itself worming inside her chest:

isn't it awful that, at this moment, she barely feels a thing?

She has lived longer without him than with him. Lami is glad that he has continued his story; that he is alive and well and making the world suffer the consequences of their actions--

Maybe there's a part of her that is bitter, too.

He never came to save her.

[kazimakuwabara]

Counting

Summary: Kurama has developed a counting habit. An enemy is about to learn, it's not a good habit to have. (word count: 700 words)

***

Kurama's hand was bleeding from the grip he kept on his whip. The thorns had overgrown this time, and they bit into the hand that grew them. The plant would normally grow at Kurama's whims, and it would normally be safe for him to hold and wield. But when he was angry, his plants could twist out of control.

Today, Kurama was very, very, very angry.

"You know I have developed a strange habit of counting," Kurama plainly informed the demon he had cornered. The once arrogant opponent was backing away, no longer finding any amusement with Kurama or his friends.

"I count the days, the passage of time, I count the seeds I sow in the garden, and I even count how many plants I keep in my hair," Kurama informed, his voice hollow and void of emotion.

His dead, calm voice was like a mask. Hiding the rage that was bubbling inside him.

"Perhaps it's a human thing," Kurama mused, raising his arm high, the hand that gripped the whip, dripping faster with his red blood. "Humans count a lot you know. Birthdays. Anniversaries. New years. It's astounding of all the things they like to keep track of."

With each listed item, Kurama brought his whip down, lashing the demon who howled in agony under each blow. Earlier, Kurama hadn't been able to wound the demon at all. That had changed.

"S-Stop," The demon entreated, his single word a mess of fear.

"Due to human influence, I keep track of all sorts of things," Kurama interrupted, "And odd as it may be, I've started to count scars. Scars on my friends' bodies. Scars they earn in stupidity, like the time Yusuke borrowed a skateboard, and tried to grind down a railing. Scars they've had since the day I met them, like the small scar on Kuwabara's chin that has seemingly existed his whole life. I even keep track of scars they've earned in battle, like the one on Hiei's shoulder.

"But this counting habit is quite a nuisance, because while I count scars, as you can see I organize them into categories too. And do you know what category I hate the most?" Kurama paused in his speech, tilting his head to the left, and glaring down at the demon, who was looking for a way out, his head bobbing this way and that. When his gaze strayed too long from Kurama, the earth split apart, and an assortment of writhing plants encircled him, each one threatening a new type of pain and death.

The demon was forced to look back at Kurama.

"I detest the scars my friends have received while protecting me," Kurama answered his own question, exhaling slowly as the anger in his voice made it tremble, "It's rather silly, since I have scars from saving them... but I hate that they are marred with evidence that they had to keep me safe. And worst of all, this counting habit of mine, ensures I know how many they have. Yusuke has four. Kazuma has three. Hiei has six. That is thirteen scars too many."

The whip snapped out and coiled around the demon's throat, and he choked, his scream cut off as Kurama tightened the grip on his living weapon. An embodiment of his anger. Thorns pierced into the demon's skin, and the beast could not make any sound of protest, lest he wished for the thorny coil around him to slit his throat.

Kurama took in a slow steadying breath, that did him no service, "Today... you have increased my friends' scars by one each. You have added to the number I hate keeping track of the most. And I swear, I'm going to keep you alive and make you pay for each one... and I'll only let you die, once I'm assured Yusuke hasn't lost use of his eye."

Kurama's words grew harder and harder, and at his last spit syllable, his green eyes exploded into gold. A fanged grin bore down on the demon, and smoothly Kurama whispered, "Let us see if I can count how many wounds I leave on your body until death, shall we?"

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

helena, hi! i've been listening to the record on loop for the past few days (it gets better every time i swear) and wanted to come pop in with an ask:

if your ocs were boygenius songs, which would they be? and, if you're feeling inspired, what about your oc ships?

BLU WHEN I TELL YOU I SCREAMED AT THIS ASK???? YOUR MIND >>>

Valerie Harmon - Ketchum, ID

I am never anywhere / Anywhere I go / When I'm home, I'm never there / Long enough to know

Anna March - Me & My Dog

I never said I'd be alright / Just thought I could hold myself together / When I couldn't breathe, I went outside / Don't know why I thought it'd be any better

Frankie Bevan - $20

Mama told me that it don't run on wishes / But that I should have fun / Pushing the flowers that come up / Into the front of a shotgun / So many hills to die on / Run out of gas, out of time, out of money / You're doing what you can, just makin' it run

Diana Fayed - Stay Down

So would you teach me I'm the villain, aren't I? / Aren't I the one constantly repentin' for a difficult mind? / Push me down into the water like a sinner, hold me under / And I'll never come up again

Camille Whitney - Souvenir

Always managed to move in / Right next to cemeteries / And never far from a hospital / I don't know what that tells you about me

Faye Warren - Satanist

Will you be a nihilist with me? / If nothin' matters, man, that's a relief / Solomon had a point when he wrote "Ecclesiastes" / If nothing can be known, then stupidity is holy / If the void becomes a bore, we'll treat ourselves to some self-belief

George Aarons - Letter To An Old Poet

I wanna be happy / I'm ready to walk into my room without lookin' for you / I'll go up to the top of our building / And remember my dog when I see the full moon / I can't feel it yet / But I am waiting

Ships:

Val and Ron - Without You Without Them

Speak to me, speak to me, speak to me / Until your history's no mystery to me / Talk to me , talk to me, talk to me / Until the words run dry, we'll see eye to eye / I'll give everything I've got / Please take what I can give

Anna and Eugene - We're In Love

I can't imagine you without the same smile in your eyes / There is somethin' about you that I will always recognize / And if you don't remember / I will try to remind you of the hummingbirds / You know the ones

Frankie and Rosie - Black Hole

Good day, good night, good talk, goodbye / It's out of your hands, but have a safe flight / My thoughts, all noise, fake smile, decoys / Sometimes, I need to hear your voice

Diana and Reg - Voyager

It's a hundred and three in the Valley / Blacktop is meltin' on our shoes / And I don't mean to make it all about me / But I used to believe no one could love you like I do / And I'm startin' to think that it might be impossible not to 

Camille and Eugene - Not Strong Enough

I don't know why I am / The way I am / Not strong enough to be your man / I lied, I am / Just lowering your expectations

Faye and Shifty - Leonard Cohen

Leonard Cohen once said / "There's a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in" / And I am not an old man having an existential crisis / At a Buddhist monastery writing horny poetry / But I agree / I never thought you'd happen to me

George and Curt - Emily, I'm Sorry

Emily, I'm sorry, I just / Make it up as I go along / And I can feel myself becoming / Someone only you could want

[dhampiravidi]

my review of deadpool & wolverine

spoilers under the cut!

Overall, I liked it. I'll give it a 7/10.

OK so, I didn't make it through ANY of the Deadpool films w/o falling asleep & not bc I'm narcoleptic. I just got bored, which SUCKS bc Wade's my favorite Marvel character (at least in the comics/other media). I had hopes for this movie only bc of the lead actors' commitment to their characters & bc putting them in what's essentially a buddy cop movie was smart as fuck. At the same time...the MCU hasn't put out a satisfactory movie (aka 1 w/o plot holes or simply disappointing bits) since...maybe Winter Soldier? Eh, I don't remember. ANYWAY!

Considering that I didn't really see Deadpool 3, it was fairly easy for me to understand the beginning. Yes, I was a little confused at first, because I didn't know that he time-traveled & ALSO hopped universes...but I figured it out eventually. I like that they made his motivations 1) saving his found family & 2) wanting to do something worthwhile. That being said, I never wanted Deadpool to have a love interest unless it was maybe Shiklah or Lady Deadpool bc they actually DO "match his crazy" & they're interesting on their own. I also didn't know who "Pete" was until I looked him up, bc MCU!Pete isn't the same as comics!Pete. I'm used to poor fucking Bob from HYDRA 😅

Onto more plot...I knew as soon as that guy introduced himself as "Mr. Paradox", he'd be evil, bc the whole point of time is that you don't want paradoxes (if that wasn't clear). I got confused thinking that Wade was from a different universe than Logan* SO that made me think Wade was his own timeline's anchor being...yeah I realized that wouldn't make sense. The fight scene w/the TVA people was a little long but satisfying, at least in that it was as bloody & creative as a Deadpool fight scene should be.

I got worried when they mentioned The Void, bc I only made it through a few episodes of Loki before I got bored & confused. I can keep comic timelines straight if you let me read through & get to know each Earth individually, but not the way the MCU deals out timeline lore. HOWEVER, it was decent! I already knew about the Johnny cameo (stupid headline spoiler) but I was happy for Chris Evans (especially during the end credits scene) & I liked the Mad Max reference. The end credits scene was especially important bc Deadpool doesn't usually hand people over to be killed unless doing so will prevent HIM from getting into a lot of trouble. He's a merc who WILL & DOES kill, but typically he lets innocent people go.

Fuck Nicepool for being boring (but I think that was the point) & no, I did not like Channing Tatum's Gambit (I know he's from Louisiana but I HOPE that accent was bad on purpose, the headpiece was too chonky & I am loyal to the canon film Gambit *blushes*). That aside, I absolutely loved what we got of Laura, Elektra & Blade. Loved their fight scene, even though it sucked to see them go.

Cassandra Nova was appropriately sociopathic, as per the comics. I kept screaming for them to kill her, bc I KNEW she wasn't gonna turn good all of a sudden, but it made sense why she let them survive. I don't know HOW she can stick her hand into someone's head w/o killing them while they STILL feel pain (or how she didn't die after being stabbed; IDK maybe they're saying she telekinetically healed herself?). I liked how they brought back the Doctor Strange finger-thingy (wait, so does that mean the TVA has a constant problem of amateur magic-users going into different timelines on accident??).

As a comics fan, I was SO EXCITED seeing all the Deadpool variants. There were a bunch of references to Deadpool Kills the Marvel Universe, which is where (if you don't know) a version of Deadpool is psychically attacked. But instead of being brainwashed, his thought boxes (which act as his companions & consciences) disappear, only for him to realize that he's in a comic. Yes, he usually breaks the 4th wall. The problem is, he reasons that his friends keep suffering for the amusement of our world, so the only way to stop the cycle is to kill all the heroes, THEN kill the people who write the comic. ANYWAY! Killpool (I think that's what he's called) ends up getting confronted by mainstream/Good!Deadpool, who's assembled a Deadpool Corps of AU-Deadpools to fight all of the OTHER recruited Deadpools. Said DPs on the good side include Kidpool, Headpool (zombie head) & Lady Deadpool.

In other words, I rioted upon seeing all these versions who definitely have some cool backstories. When Logan & Wade went through them, I got pissed OFF ("wtf why didn't they heal?"). I thought they were gonna debate needing to kill Babypool (adorable), when everyone started waking up. I also liked how they showed someone growing back limbs, which is important considering the whole regenerative factor.

I do wonder how antimatter reacting w/matter didn't blow up the whole underground + 10005's version of New York or wherever, but there's always a plot hole. Besides, they've had lots of alien attacks. Maybe they build their undergrounds like nuclear bomb shelters.

All in all, 7/10.

*Is this Logan/Wade's universe the Fox movie universe? Bc we saw Captain Marvel's buddy, aka MVP of the shitty CM2, land there...so I assume the Fox universe is fine...but it CAN'T be THIS MOVIE's universe, bc their Logan wouldn't be that old! Also Logan isn't as old as Wade, but I'm pretty sure Wade shouldn't be chronologically just 30...? IDK if that was implied. TL;DR my precious Fox universe is fine. Thank you, nostalgia, The Good X-Men Casting & poor beloved misused Taylor Kitsch!Gambit + Anna Paquin!Rogue 😭

[stalwart-spirit]

for the one word prompt list: "confusion" for soleil!

Okay, I thought the last one went out of control but this one REALLY did.

It's a long one, starting on confusion and spiralling from there. Not proofread, we die like men at almost 3am. Mature language, general bastardry and void stuff.

"I don't know how you slept through the night with what happened! Isn't House Delacroix not far from you?"

"It was only by morning when I saw all the guards posted up and down the street that I found out!"

--

The state of the room could only be described as utter chaos. Desk chair toppled, drawers pulled and contents scattered across the floor, it wouldn't be hard to believe if this was the result of a robbery.

But no, the culprit was there, haggard and exhausted. Nothing more than a noble man at his wits end.

Soleil grips his hair in his hands, normally so well kept and maintained, now a frazzled and near tangled mess. Through gritted teeth, he curses. Frustration based in raw, unfiltered confusion.

"Fuck! Who was last in here? The maids? No. They're forbidden from the study-"

It's cold, freezing, that pit of dread in his chest.

Normally there it laid, a filigree lockbox upon the desk. Once containing jewellery, probably some collection of honestly worthless gifts from some previous admirer he didn't bother remembering, now used to contain something that Soleil in his own eyes deemed of much more value.

Years of study, leveraging what good carrying his father's name as the only son to House Delacroix, to get what he needed. Worn tomes that at a glance would seem nothing more than textbooks well past their prime, written by some long dead and deluded scholar. A cluster of bewildering writing, honest to gods ramblings of a madman. To the young lord however, each was worth their weight in gold.

To be caught with such studies would be heresy. Thus, each would be committed to memory, put immediately to practise, before the tainted scriptures were burned on the pyre. All this, accumulating in a summoning from the void, the entity brought forth by the stench of blood-candles and swiftly contained in a crystaline vessel imbued with his own aether.

A vessel now missing.

No one else could enter here. A study passed down to him from his father, his to do as he pleased. Somewhere intended to work on the house's trades, though repurposed into his own refuge of void related studies. There were only two keys, his and-

It's a whirlwind. Door thrown fully open to its hinges to slam against the adjacent wall, hurried footsteps thumping on the buffed wooden floors.

Blind rage is what sends Soleil running to the parlour room.

--

"To think, the Lord of the house slain in the night and his son not in any better condition."

"Oh please, I really try and not think about it, it's just so ghastly!"

--

Muffled words through the rushing of blood in his ears.

"Should have kept you on a tight leash, knowing how much of an arrogant boy are."

Head hurts.

"To think my worry was placed in thinking you'd be off gallivanting and shirking off your duties to this house, spreading your seed in whatever peasant whore took interest in you that evening."

Nails digging into his palms.

"I'll be reporting this in the morning, I can at least show you a modicum of decency by letting you know. Far more than you've ever given me."

Something snaps.

It takes time until Soleil noticed the deafening sound was coming from him, voice tearing through his throat in an enraged scream as he lunged forward, going to grasp for the crystal only to send it toppling downward.

It's as if all light is sucked out of the room in an instant, removed of all warmth and life as both men are thrown to the other side of the parlor from a sudden force, the empty space previously between them now stood a figure; abnormal, oddly proportioned and tilted at an angle, draped in what appeared to be shifting fabric made from blackened, necrosed flesh. An eyeless face takes in its surroundings and finally lay on the two men gaining their bearings.

A hungry maw salivates.

One man stands, one hand rested against a toppled table, the other raised forward, palm bloody from deep gashes from his nails.

"Remember. I brought you here. I wasn't ready yet, but I am now. I can get you what you need."

Soleil's hand now gestures towards the petrified figure of his father, a man barely able to comprehend the sight before him.

"First with him, then more. I know how. If there's none to feed you, you are free to take some of my own aether."

The creature stays silent in contemplation, the passing seconds feeling like hours. Eternity. Until a voice of no discerning source breaks through, surprisingly warm, wrapping around the young lord like lush exotic silks.

"A veritable wellspring for me to drink from... For a lifetime."

--

"Look! There he is now!"

"My, what was it you were saying about him being no better off than his late father?"

"I'd imagine he afforded only the best chirurgeons to look after him!"

The young lord steps out into the snow covered streets, long hair blowing in the blustering wind. All things considered, it looked nothing more than him losing on a night's sleep.

Found unconscious, bleeding beside the body of his father. With the state of the study and parlour, it was assumed a theft gone wrong, nothing more.

In the passing days, he'd take up the mantle of Lord Delacroix, attending to assets left by the deceased, and not long after setting his sights to travel outside of the Holy See of Ishgard, to the adventuring lifestyle not befitting of a lord. Turbulent, necessitating violence at times.

A hunger for bloody battle, insatiable.

[featherlouise]

[cracks fingers] lets DO THIS!! and since this has a lot of punctuation and my anon mark will mess it up i'll preface this by saying this is indeed evil anon. ichor is the blood of the gods in greek myth so that what i use instead of blood for *poeticness*, and also my interp of gijinka pk would still have four arms so thats why he's described as such

----

The Pale King cannot breathe.

He's only felt like this once in recent memory, when the first husk was brought before Him and His court, and He'd recognised the burning light in it's eyes - undoubtedly, Her attempts at returning.

It's different now, yet exactly the same. He braces himself against a wall, trembling with ichor-loss and exhaustion and dread and pure *grief* as His vessel lets out a terrible, lurching scream from it's throat - no, their throat, they're alive, it must be true, She couldn't have taken them if they were alive - as their nail slides in and out of their chest, through carapace and chitin to the soft void-flesh underneath. Back in, back out, until the carpet underneath them is stained with their ichor.

And what's worse is that He can see Her infection briefly leave their eyes before they crumple to the floor.

After a few moments hesitation, He gingerly crept towards them, placing one of His hands on the wound while another supported their head and another their back. He cannot find it in Himself to speak, for He cannot even find the words. He could not say those simple placating mantras offered to wounded footsoldiers on the battlefield, the simple "You'll be alright" and "Everything will be fine" of the common dying bug, because in His heart He knows that it isn't true. His child - for that is what they were, His child, His baby, not just the bars of Her prison cell - was going to die in absolute agony, and it was His fault for not realising sooner.

But perhaps a small, desperate part of Himself had known all along. The fountain in Hallownest's Heart was proof. You do not create memorials for a tool, you do not erect statues in honour of an empty thing. You create them for a life, a living breathing being with thoughts and feelings and *hope* and-

A strange, hacking noise interrupts his tram of thought, and He realises it comes from the Vessel - is that really what He should be calling them now? - as they cough up a mixture of Void and Infection, night-black and orange dripping down their mouth and onto His robe. It streams from their eyes, too, Her cruel mockery of tears which He had never designed them to shed. Then, they begin to make a strange gurgling sound, and He looks at them in confusion for a few seconds before He realises they're choking on the foul mixture, too weak now to spit it out. Gently, He tips their head ever-so-slightly to the side, so the fluid can fall out with relative ease, and then back again.

And then it happens. The Vessel shakily removes His hand from their wound and onto the hilt of their discarded nail. Almost as if they were asking Him to.. no. He won't do it. He wouldn't dare, there may still be a chance, He *won't.*

The shaky, rattling breaths that they're still able to take begin to slow, and the King can only watch as it stops.

He sits there for a few seconds, staring blankly, before He begins to cry for what must be the first time in His life. The hall outside the door is suddenly rife with activity, before it opens and He is met with Hornet's shocked face. Then the Beast whisks her in her arms, burying Hornet's face in her neck so she doesn't see any more. Her face twists into an angry, accusing glare that not even He had witnessed before.

"What in the ever-loving *fuck* happened here, Wyrm?"

THE WAY I SCREAMED

I HAD to read this out loud and I'm genuinely crying holyyyy fucking shitttttt

I don't think I brought enough tissues imma be honest

[cannibalistic-suggestions]

Darling, I can't stand being away from you. The more you avoid me the more I'm going to try and chase after you. I cling to you like cobwebs, dusty and frail. I'm the mildew on rotting shower curtains, plastic falling apart. I'm a ghost stuck haunting the past, I will never, ever leave the gravesite where our collective memories died.

Stress and fear makes meat hard and chewy, not good, but it doesn't matter to me. What difference does it make to my rotten tastebuds? If I dream about the taste of love, maybe I'll somehow be able to perceive it. If I wish hard enough, maybe it will come back into existence; maybe, just maybe if I still blow on these old ashes, the fading glow will burn bright again and the fire we once shared will be rekindled.

I know it's there, it was there, it can't be gone yet. I love you, I love you so much, so much its maddening. You occupy my every waking thought, crept into every crack and crevice of my otherwise empty mind and made yourself at home. If my thoughts aren't for thinking about you what good is my putrid brain for?

You just want to discard me, a nasty treat molded over that you forgot about. I've been here, waiting, I can't help the maggots crawling all over. Please don't leave me, I'm so hungry and only you and your love could ever sate me, bloody or not. You are the sole thing that glows dimly in the dull void where my heart was, the only one who makes me feel again. I never forgot about you, please don't forget about me, I can't stand the thought of it. The phantoms of your kisses, your hands on my body, the barely audible things you whispered to me, all linger throughout this broken frame.

I'm never going to leave your side. I love you, and I know you did, too. You have to. I'll make you love me if I have to.

Darling, I'm already dead, and any hopes of saving me died years ago with me, its saccharine to see you try. Your patience is as thin as spider silk, strong enough to not flinch as I sink teeth in and rip out chunks of your flesh to replenish my own in desperation, but threatening to snap if I keep up these "antics" any longer.

You would hardly comprehend how my mind holds on to you, my life support before I'm dragged down into the soil again. What would my unlife be without you? I'd crumble like a decrepit suburban home, but not before dragging you to my side so we're killed in its collapse together. I don't care if I've already eaten off enough of you in my greed, it won't be enough until I die with you.

Let us return to an eternal rest, just the two of us and nobody more. Dark, deoxygenated blood staining our funeral/wedding best. There's nothing left for us here, why don't you see that? Those demons are just trying to drag you away to a different hell, why do you trust them more than me? Can't you see I've always been here for you, smiling even with pieces of you stuck between the teeth of my grin? It's like you just shoved me in a casket and moved on.

But so long as this withered body walks, and I have you in my sights, I won't let you get away so easy. If I have to eat you alive to make sure you'll never belong to anyone but me, I'll do so and sigh happily as you scream, bony fingers tearing your vocal cords into silence as I sweetly sip blood from your torn-open, snapped neck.