#smth smth I could make a joke about compensating for smth

[egg2k16]

methinks the gentleman doth protest too much 👀🏳️‍🌈

[starryletters]

gojo; friends to lovers headcanons!

notes : set in 2006, reader being silly and a bit dense, gojo falls first and you fall just as hard , fluff! suguru and shoko mentioned bc i love their friendgroup🫶

a/n : eep my first (published) piece of writing! im so excited, and i hope people like it!!! this isn't the most polished, but i wanted to start off with something a little more simple ( ◡‿◡ *) anywhoo satoru is the boyfriend ever!

you met him when you joined the jujutsu high second years aka geto shoko and gojo!

and gojo IMMEDIATELY decided to annoy the shit out of you

but like in an endearing way (that's what he thought, at least)

surprisingly, you actually found him funny, and bantering with him back and forth quickly became your favorite part of every day.

he really liked how you were able to keep up with him and how easy it was to talk to you about anything and everything. no matter what he had to say, you had a reply (or an insult) ready to go.

satoru's a really physically affectionate person in general and he was over the moon when you didnt seem to mind how he randomly slung his arm around your shoulder or how he liked to fall asleep with his head in your lap. (i could tie to this whole thing to his infinity and talk about how sad it is for someone that shows love through physival affection to experience smth so traumatic that they put a LITERAL barrier between them and others preventing all forms of touch but..i wont!)

it wasn't anything romantic at first! (i love platonic physical affection, okay?)

but there were small moments where you felt his touch and felt such a warmth in your heart. you had pure adoration for him [and if you ever caught his stare, you would know he adored you the same.]

anywhoo! you always thought he was attractive because i mean, look at him

but you never really saw him as a romantic prospect. at least not until you talked to him and got to know him. which you told shoko later on, and she called you a freak of nature for it because "usually he has the opposite effect on people"

there wasn't really a distinct moment you can remember where you developed feelings for him. the realization totally caught you by surprise!

you were hanging out with your fellow second years after school, and gojo made some dumb dad joke, at which only he laughed (of course), but you glanced at him from the side and his laugh!!! it was so beautiful!!! like, why are you enchanted by this LOSER right now???

either way, that's when you noticed that maybe that feeling you got in your stomach whenever gojo touched you may not have been entirely platonic. horrified and also a teensy bit excited at your discovery you look away and try to make your blushing face cool down. cool, this was definitely gonna ruin one of the best relationships and friendships you've ever had! gojo knew geto and shoko before you, so if you ever confessed, it would probably ruin your friendship with them too! cool, cool, very cool.

of course, that was total bs, but whatever you were anxious at, your newfound feelings and relationships are confusing, and you maybe (definitely) had a bit of tunnel vision in that moment.

after that (like the smart person you are), you convinced yourself that "well. if i just avoid gojo..the feelings will probably go away, right?"

oh, you poor naive FOOL

first of all, avoiding gojo was no easy feat (just ask nanami)

second of all... by the point you realized your feelings, he was already completely WHIPPED for you

"suguru! did you see? she totally looked at me for two seconds longer than usual today!"

"uh-huh"

"she definitely loves me back, dont you think so too?"

"you're delusional."

"you're my best friend! you're supposed to indulge me in my delusions!"

definitely the type to lay on his stomach and kick his feet in the air while thinking about you

and he NEVER shuts up about you

shoko and geto seriously deserve financial compensation for this and are BAFFLED by the fact that you dont notice how lovestruck he is by you?

so as soon as he realized you stopped replying to his texts like you usually did and you didn't sit next to him anymore so he could lean his head on your shoulder, he was devastated

DEVASTATED

like what did he do????? why does the universe hate him??? ( like he isnt the strongest sorcerer ever?)

you thought you were clever for coming up with your "get rid of feelings for satoru" plan

but no. for days now everywhere you were, suddenly there he was.

you didn't give him the silent treatment or anything you just... kept your distance.

well, you tried anyway

man has no sense of personal space.

"i missed you." he pouts, leaning down and placing his head on your shoulder from behind. "we see each other everyday, thats not enough for you?" you replied, trying to remain calm while he was so SO close to you. "we barely saw each other at all yesterday!" he whines. "i was busy -" "no, you weren't." "yes, i was?" "nuh-uh, " your face contorts into a grimace. "seriously, how old are you?" "sev-" "it was a rhetorical question." he moves from his postion behind you and stands right in front of you. if he wasn't so silly looking, you would probably be intimidated by his towering height.

his face turns serious. "you've been avoiding me." he states, a small pout on his lips. shit, dont look at his lips! "eh..uh..what? no, i'm not! that's crazy talk..." you sputter nervously. he sighs, and puts his hands on your shoulders "are you okay?" he's genuinely concerned for you now. damnit why couldn't he be less likeable?! this was really throwing a wrench in your plan.

"i am..i'm just..uh..argh." you lower your head and massage your temple out of frustration. your heartbeat was going a mile a minute. "i didn't mean to avoid you, satoru." you say in a soft tone. a lie, but you couldn't handle telling him the truth. his face brightens instantly. "i'll forgive you if you pinky promise to never avoid me ever again." he reaches out his pinky. "wow, future me is gonna regret that when you get inevitably annoying.." you chuckle reaching out your hand to interlink your finger with his. this was good, this was normal. you felt normal, platonic, and normal feelings. yep. a bright grin spreads across his pretty face. "although.. you might still have to buy me something sweet to really convince me!" of course. "you're the worst." "you love it!" yeah, you do.

okay, plan b. push it all down and focus on your friendship!

you did really enjoy just being his friend after all..otherwise you wouldn't care so much about ruining your friendship!

so things went back to normal sort of...except for the fact that over the next few months, the romantic tension got worse and worse.

you thought it was just you being delusional when he started holding your hand more and more frequently, freuqently bought you small trimkets and gifts( his reason being " i thought of you!") told you how pretty and cool you looked after missions, even with your hair all messed up and uniform askew. you tried so hard not to read into it even though these things were obviously pretty romantic.

satoru thought he was going insane

"i mean??? am i not being clear enough, suguru? am i being too subtle?"

"i dont think the word subtle really suits you, in any situation ever."

at this point, he was close to giving up. maybe you just didn't like him as much as he liked you?

but then! one late summer night!

the first kiss!

which was sort of out of the blue but also not really, since you'd been pining for each other for a while.

he was invading spending time in your dorm room late at night again like he frequently did. he got real chatty at night. you were both sitting on your bed, and his head was leaning against your shoulder, the soft ends of his hair tickling your neck.

it was around mignight, his voice was low and he spoke in a hushed tone.

"..you know? and then he had the audacity to insult nintendo? like sorry you hate fun, loser? anyways my original point was..." he trails off his voice, getting lower and lower by the end. you turn your head in his direction, expecting to find him asleep. instead, your nose almost bumps against his.

his eyes are..so breathtaking this close, with the moonlight reflecting in his sapphire irises. his snow-white lashes flutter as he glances down at your lips. a silent request.

this moment was so full of tender love while still so quiet. you had never felt anything quite like it before. you nod ever so slightly and softly your lips meet eachother. slotting together like two puzzle pieces, it made something click in your brain. suddenly everything made sense.

after a few moments you pulled back. your face felt hot. it was still quiet. gojos thumb rubs over the back of your hand.

he leans his head back onto your shoulder, positively beaming, he giggled "like i was saying.." he starts again the smile still evident in his voice.

an equally bright grin breaks out on your face. he was not even acknowledging the kiss you two shared. but it felt right that he didn't. this moment felt so warm and so much like satoru. there was no more confusion and no words that needed to be said. you both understood what it meant. you both finally understood what you were.

what you failed to consider was telling your best friends. geto and shoko. the four of you were hanging out and gojo had to leave early for another mission, before he leaves he quickly pecks you on the lips (which to be fair surprised you too) before waving and running off. shoko's eyes were practically bulging out of her head, and getos face couldn't decide between a surprised expression and one of disgust. "what. was that." shoko furtows her brows. "uhh..oh! oh." you couldn't exactly pinpoint what you were supposed to say now. how did you forget to tell them? how did GOJO forget to tell them? granted, it only happened last night, but still... you had assumed he spent the rest of the night lying on his stomach, feet kicking, telling geto every detail. "we're dating?" you reply awkwardly. "damn it!" shoko exclaims, and suguru smiles smugly. odd reactions... that's what you thought until you saw shoko pull out her wallet and hand suguru a big wad of cash. "see? i told you they would figure it out before they turned 25." he chides.

thank you for reading!!! and i hope you liked it! im not sure about this formatting (w/ the tumblr bulleted list. it's like not spaced apart enough, yk?) anyway! im open to constructive criticism, but please be nice im sensitive LOL (ﾉω･､)

[masterofengene]

COULD i also request an idol!K oneshot/longshot (perefered fem reader but also wtv you are comfortable w) inspired by you are in love by taylor swift and its like suuper fluffy and he is so sweet and kdramary and like theyre wondering around the city or smth(can you tell I just finished binge watching i-land and immediately need compensation for the pain it caused me 😭😭😭) omg maybe like a friends to lovers trope and he realises how much she means to him and its like a she fell first but he fell ten times harder like IM SO SORRY FOR RAMBLING I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT OF MEJFDHSKDFGJ like im just imagining confessions in the rain after a miscommunication which left them both rlly sad and then she runs after him in the middle of a city street at midnight. honestly PLS TAKE complete creative freedom because as you can probably tell my thoughts rn r super messy and delulu ajshgfhkfhkgdjhsdfhgfdjkg i literally just have been thinking abt a long fic to get immersed in w K bc i have seen ltrly none😔 THANK U SMSMSMSMSMMS ASDKJFH.

Here i am!! So i finally got back to my writing and this one got those creative writing juices flowing and it gave me so many ideas so enjoy!!

…………………………………………………………………………….

Coffee at Midnight.

K! X fem reader based off the song “ you are in love “ by Taylor Swift.

…………………………………………………………………………….

You and K had been friends for what feels like forever. You guys had gone to the same school and were close in age so you two naturally grew closer. Before you even realized, you two were best friends. But as time went by you couldn’t help but look at K differently, Over the years he had filled out and his features grew more defined. Anyone who knew K would notice this, unless they were blind.

But you hadn’t even registered your own feelings changing, not until you were head over heels for him. You two shared a love of the performing arts so when he debuted, he managed to get you an audition and then he stepped back and let you handle it. He knew you’d land the rest yourself, he always had a blind faith in you. He trusted you more than you trusted yourself. It was a little bit after that, that you realized you’re own feelings towards K.

It was one look, and a dark room, a light hearted joke.

It had been a few months since you had begun your training, and to say that you were exhausted was a major understatement. It was well past 10 at night your monthly evaluations were right around the corner and you couldn’t quite nail the choreography that you would be tested on. Your body was tired and you were drained but you couldn’t just give up. Your eyes were aching so you had dimmed the lighting just enough to relieve the dull ache.

You were so into your practice that you hadn’t heard your phone going off, you didn’t hear the messages that k was sending to check on you. And lets just say when he got no response, he went to check on you himself. Because how dare his best friend not answer him.

What you did hear was the door to the practice room opening. You had thought for a second that it would be an instructor coming to kick you out of the room, luckily it was not. It was just K.

“You weren’t answering me…i was worried about you.” K said, being the one to always speak his mind. But he could read you like a book. So why bother hiding your exhaustion. Without saying anything, you let out a sigh and not-so-gracefully sat down on the ground. You laid back and simply said. “I have been at it for hours and i cannot get it right no matter how hard i try. Im not that much of a dancer.”

And then he gave you that look, the look that would make you feel so loved and cared for that it unlocked all of those hidden feelings.

“Please don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re doing so well. Even if you do not realize it. You know….i think i saw some janitors, trainees… even a few pigeons watching you dance through the windows. An amazing performance.” He said jokingly, although he truly meant that you did an excellent job. He had just wanted to see you smile instead of looking like you would cry any second.

And after that, your feelings for him kept growing but you were certain he would never see you as anything more than a friend. Still you always had hope that he /could/.

That was until you had gone to the mall one day and were window shopping by yourself, you had invited K along but he had said that he was at a practice. You didn’t think anything of it, they had a comeback coming up anyway. You really didn’t give it a second thought. Well…until you did.

You had walked into your favorite store, the place where you got all of your clothes from. It was locally owned and they only had this one location. Everything about it made you smile, from the dresses to the shoes, to their jewelry. You were happily browsing but that soft peaceful smile that you had faded in an instant.

Right in front of you was K and a girl you had never seen before standing in front of a bracelet rack. They were clearly close, leaning closer to each other as they talked.

In that second, it felt like your whole world had came crashing down. Why had he lied to you about practice? Why was he here with /her/? And why was she standing so close to him? A thousand questions raced through your head as K looked up and made eye contact with you. There was panic in his eyes in that second, and without a word you turned around and left. If only you knew the real reason that he was so panicked….

Unknown to you, the reason he was there in the first place was because he had wanted to buy you a bracelet and confess his own feelings that had grown. He wanted it to be romantic and special. A sweet confession. He had asked his cousin to come along and help him pick out something that you would like. He only wanted to surprise you and not hurt you.

He thought situations like this only happened in the dramas that he watched on the television. But K had seen that devastated look in your eyes and he felt the pain that washed over you in that second. You might have fallen for him first but he fell harder that’s for sure.

it was midnight when you decided to go to the convenience store and get some coffee, your head was still swirling with emotions, and the weather outside represented how you were feeling, windy and stormy. Then you felt your phone go off and found that K had texted you, saying that he was on his way to your apartment. All you said in return was that you were getting coffee, to come a different time.

As you rang up your coffee and a little sweet treat, you pulled your hoodie up to cover your hair before going back out in the rain. You wee still hurting but you couldn’t see K until you felt calmer. You didn’t want to lose him entirely.

The bell sounded from the door and before you knew it you heard your name bing called. You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“she is my cousin.” That was all k said as he walked up to you. And you were still in shock because how had he known that you were at this convenience store.

“This is the only place open that has coffee near your place..” He seemed to hear your silent question, then you noticed that his hair was soaking wet from walking in the rain.

“still. I thought you had practice.” The hurt in your voice had said enough as you walked around him heading back inside. It was all a fresh feeling for you and you still had so many questions left unanswered.

“stop and listen please.” K said following you outside into the pouring rain. That’s when he let the truth slipped past his lips as he let like he was losing his best friend. He grabbed your hand and you felt a smooth, cool metal press against your hand. “I didn’t know that you felt this way about me until i saw that look in your eye today. (Y/n) i was planning to do this in a better setting but ill just tell you now. She was helping me buy you a bracelet, I couldn’t tell you because it was going to be a surprise. But i really like you, actually no. You’re my best friend and you mean the entire world to me, i love you. Im sorry you had to find out this way.” The look in his eyes was a desperate one.

You felt shocked, you had never once considered any of the things that just fell past his lips, and as if he saw your shock he let go of your hand and left the bracelet there. He rocked back on his heels to give you time to process his words as the rain fell around you two.

“i… you like me? Really? But how did you…. Did you know I’ve felt the same?”

“not until today…i saw that look you had. Like you wee heart broken…I can’t risk losing our burnt toast sundays…” His comment made you crack a smile as all the pieces slowly fit into place.

and the rest…. Well that’s history.

[wishing-on-a-staranise]

girl i dont know about financial compensation BUT i will give u some thoughts? for this

when i first thought of it i didnt plan on it having a similar vibe to wandavision but as i thought more about it was like yeah this is very them (btw i love that show)

this fic first started when i daydreaming or reading fanfics when i was supposed to study to the point i would sometimes end up getting nothing done. so i just imagined a simple convo where steve is trying to comfort r but then r just breaks the fourth wall or smth like that while telling him that he isnt real and that hawkins isnt real. i then told the idea to sanjana and from there it just started snowballing. initially this was supposed to be very short and there was no idea of the calls and the groceries or murder. there were a lot of ideas and different routes that it all could go.

one i really wanted to explore but ended up not fitting into the story was that steve only exists in reader's perception,,, like he doesnt exist outside of the apartment unless he is with them (like a schrodinger's cat or smth) but this didnt really work or make much sense so unfortunately i had to sack it :(

technically when i made that clone post, i think i had already started writing this fic or atleast had the story in my head all ready. i just made that post cuz it was just a lil inside joke to me like a a lil nudge nudge a lil wink wink to myself

i did listen to mitski's 'my love mine all mine' a LOT while writing this so the vibes might be there but isnt necesarily based on it

i would love to hear more of your thoughts if u want to! as for me i cant say too much as i will at some point write a part two to this where a lot more will be revealed like what are those bumps? is steve real? is reader real? where did the other steve come from? and i'm so excited for that. this fic made me realise how much i love writing spooky/creepy stuff sm

Kiss it away, honey.

(s.h. x reader)

from the river to the sea. (get in your daily clicks, read about it, donate if you can.)

summary: you have a perfect and loving boyfriend, and everything should be great but something is just not right.

word count: 6.7k

warnings: use of y/n, no pronouns used (gn!reader), use of pet names (honey, etc), codependency, dark themes, a new flavor of jealousy, horror (spookies and scawies), gore, murder

a/n: yall remember when i was yapping about clones and all that? yeah. I went a lil feral while writing this lmao✌️🤪

another banger by @procrastinationprincesses and I on tumblr dot com. Thank her for listening to me babble on and just helping me sift through the different routes this could go and also being what is basically my proofreader

i might write a part two of this. do not ask me when.

masterlist

You haven’t changed out of your work clothes yet, staring at the phone on the wall. 

It was silent now but it had rung, blaring, louder than you'd ever heard it before. Five times it had rung.

5 calls– 5 missed calls. Unknown number. No voicemail.

You hadn't picked up. You had just stared, you weren’t sure why– the ringing scared you. you weren't sure why but every fiber in your being had coloured you stuck– immovable even if you wanted to do otherwise.

Now it had stopped, empty as vacuum, dead quiet left in the wake of those shrill rings.

And just when you were about to let out a sigh of relief, just when you thought you could finally get to changing out of your work clothes, it started ringing again, your temples hurt from its shrill notes. 

Your nostrils flared, you will not cower, no, you huff of frustration before stomping towards the phone. Its red plastic is just as bright as it had been when you had first gotten it with Steve.

It's probably just a prank call. It's a prank call. A stupid kid doing a stupid prank call. Why the hell is your heartbeat so loud? 

You pick up the receiver, gripping it tight, ready to give the prank caller a piece of your mind.

Hello? Hey you stupid shithole, find something better to do with your stupid, pathetic life, why dont ya’? Good fucking night.

“He– hello?”, your voice comes out nowhere near as fierce as you had wanted it to be.

The line is silent for a second or two. But then you hear a gasp and then some rustling, crackle. You strain your ears, the sounds seemingly impossible to decipher, “hello, who– who is this?”

You think you hear muffled crying, after a few seconds they finally speak up, “y/n”, their voice is of a woman's. “y/n–” is all they choke out before breaking out into a sob. She says your name as if she hasn't said it in a long while, as if she can't believe she’s saying it. And you don’t know why but you feel your eyes sting. You press the receiver closer to your ears, the plastic creaks under your grip. you think you recognise her. The realisation hits you that you do. She sounds familiar.

“y/n, my baby where–” you hear a click, followed by beep beep beep beep, indicating that the call has been disconnected. This time you blink, a tear finally trickles down your cheek. You stare at the receiver, the beeping barely audible. You take in a deep breath, and dial the number again, waiting for the ring or the woman’s voice.

The ring never comes, her voice never comes. Invalid number.

You stare at it. If you were to look any harder, you think the plastic would melt. Too many thoughts were running through your head. And why the hell are you crying?

You hear the jingle of keys followed by the sound of the door opening. You tear your burning gaze away from the phone to the clock. 7:08 p.m. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah!” he answers back immediately, you hear the door shut, the keys in his hand jingle again followed by the clink of them landing in the ceramic ashtray-turned-bowl next to the door where you keep your keys. 

Any other day you would have walked to him, and even if he’d be in the middle of taking his shoes off he’d stop, give you a loving smile, hold his arms up, ready to engulf you into a hug. Any other day, you would have wrapped your arms around his torso, kissed his shoulder before burying your nose into his neck. 

He is the only one who could ever fix you, everyday you come from work, bags under your eyes, tired to your bones and everyday he comes and puts you all back together as if it was the easiest thing to do, as if he was made for it. And you want to go to him so bad. Any other day, you would have. But today doesn't seem like any other day. 

“Hey honey”, he finally comes around the corner and he gives you that smile you love being on the receiving end of, all lazy and adorning, “haven't changed out yet?” 

You look back down at yourself, and you see that you had still been stuck, body still facing the wall where the phone hung. you indeed haven't changed out yet. You barely shake your head before his brows scrunch up, “You okay? Your eyes look all red”

You blink before shaking your head, “Uh, yeah, yeah. I’ll go ch–”

Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

What you were saying is left abandoned, your head snaps towards where the phone is. 

“I’ll get it. You go change,” Steve tells you, not noticing your immediate panic. As he ambles to the phone, you slowly shuffle away– moving towards the bathroom, making sure to listen in on the conversation. “Hello?” you hear him speak into the receiver, he pauses for a second and so do you in your tracks, “..oh hey, Henderson'', you breathe out in relief at hearing the familiar name, “Yeah, yep, doing good. How’s the new place treatin’ ya?”

The audibility of his words lessens as you continue on your way to the bathroom. In the small, tiled room, your own breathing echoes, it engulfs you. you immediately regret not just changing in your room because you can't hear Steve’s voice anymore. But you have already locked the door. You weren’t sure why you did– maybe it was your uneasiness and apprehension but normally you never lock the door because your ever clingy Steve loves joining you in, majority of the time there is nothing sexual about it. Most of the time he just stands there by the door, that same adorning smile on his lips.

When you step out of your jeans, it rings in your brain, again and again. The piercing ringing of the phone, the woman’s voice. You know that voice. You know that voice. You know that woman, you are certain. It is like its on the tip of your tongue, like it is obscured behind a frosted glass, like an itch you can’t scratch. 

A knock on the bathroom door breaks you out of your thoughts, “uh honey?” the voice comes muffled through the wood, “Are you done? Need to take a piss.”

“Yeah, just–” you quickly hop into your shorts, balling up your dirty clothes and tossy them into the laundry basket before unlocking the door. 

And he is there, that smile blooms across his face, “there you are”, and then his lips are on yours, his wide palm comes to hold your face, thumb rubbing softly at your cheeks— he’s a tactile being, your boyfriend, loves holding your face, loves holding you, touching you anywhere. 

When his fingers burrow into your hair behind your ear, you somehow manage to breathe out between the deepening kisses, “Thought you had to take a piss”

“Don't bring up pissing when I’m kissing you”

“Oh, but its okay when you wanna hold my hand while pooping?” He once told you he’d hold your hand while pooping if you’d let him– he had been absolutely drunk, maybe high off weed– inebriated, really and didn't remember saying it the next day. you love to tease him about it. he groans at the mention.

“I was high”, he whines, embarrassed,�� “I told you I didn't mean it.”

“Drunk words… sober thoughts, honey.”

“You said it was endearing”

“It is endearing but still a weird thing to say”, you laugh all toothy and cute.

“Whatever, I gotta piss”, he mumbles trying his best to hide his smile before moving you by your shoulders to swap places with you so it’s him who is in the bathroom. He shuts the door, the sound of the lock clicking never reaches your ears.

You’re left alone with your thoughts again, and your smile fades away– you’re anxious, you know that much. You’re not so sure of what exactly. You plop down on the edge of the bed, leg bouncing restlessly, finger tracing over the pattern of the sheets. The pillows and comforter are set up perfectly for the night– every morning Steve sets the bed while you shower knowing you always get frustrated with the task. 

Your back sinks into the mattress, you breathe out, deep and slow, eyes closing on their own accord. You almost fall asleep for a second, but the bathroom door clicks open. A few seconds later, the bed dips beside you, the fabric rustles, “tired?” the question is followed by a groan. When you peak a look, you find him stretching out his arms beside you.

“Absolutely”, you answer.

“Yeah, me too,” he sighs out.

“We still have to make food.”

He lets a frustrated groan tumble from his lips, “can't we just have mac and cheese today?”

…

The night goes by in a breeze, not a lot of talking. 

The love is still there though, in the way that Steve holds the corner of the open cabinet door to make sure your head doesn't hit it, in the way he lets you sit on the countertop while waiting for the water to boil over, in the way you stare at him when you think he isn't looking, in the way you pull his hand over your lap and massage the tight muscles of his palm while he stirs the pot with his other hand. 

You put on his favourite show when he plates the food, he makes sure to put some chives on your plate to make it look a little more pretty for you. You watch the show in silence, eating under the flickering light of the tv. You let it play in the background while you wash the dishes, it is Steve who watches you this time, his head resting against the cabinets behind him. and he thinks he could watch you all day. Something about doing the most mundane things with you makes him feel all warm and lovely. He is sure that past anything grand and dramatic, its the everyday things that show love. He hopes in every world, he gets to hold you and love you. He thinks he'll give it all up just to be with you, just to watch you wash dishes, just to have you sit beside him while he cooks.

When the dishes are done, he makes sure the doors are locked, you turn off the lights and the TV. Before you know it you’re in bed, and before you know it, you’re already falling asleep. 

…

At first you weren’t sure why you were awake. Then you hear shuffling behind you, and you barely even roll over when there is a warm hand on your hip, “honey,” he whispers– voice all scratchy and low that makes you melt, you hum for a response, “I’m sorry honey, wake up please”, his tone is slightly rushed, you’re a bit more awake at that. 

Barely did you sit up when he engulfs you in a tight hug. You hold him back without a thought or hesitation. Your hand rubs his back, his arms tighten around you, nose nudging into your neck, his skin warm. your fingers find their place in his messy head of hair like they always do, you card through the strands. He pulls you closer, and then you're in his lap. He holds you like a boy holds his favourite toy– like he doesn't plan on letting go.

“Want some water?” After some time you ask softly. You feel him nod into the junction of your neck.

He loosens his hold on you enough for you to climb out of his lap. Not saying a word, he follows you to the kitchen, and he stays close when you pour him a glass. He is mid-gulp when you ask, “nightmare?”

He nods once, the rogue strands on his forehead bouncing with the movement, and downs the water before saying a soft ‘yeah’.You take the glass from his hands and place it in the sink, and lead him back to bed. 

You brush aside his disheveled hair. You tuck yourself into his side, an arm around him, “wanna talk about it?” you ask softly, fringernails scratching his faint stubble.

In the dim of the room, you see his adam's apple bob. Apparently, he does want to talk about it, because he nods– the movement barely noticeable but there. You put your head back on his chest and you wait patiently, trying your best not to fall back to slumber.

It takes him a while before he starts, “You were…”  his hand moves to hold yours, “you were sick–in the hospital, these wires and tubes attached to you. Y-You had been there for months. You were sick and you wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't even look at me. And– and…. Then the– the damn heart monitor–”

“Honey–” 

His words are frantic and uneven, “I didnt– I didnt know what to do after. I didn’t–”

“Steve—” you hold his face to make him look at you, “I'm here.”

He licks his lips, then swallows, nodding. he pushes his face forward so your foreheads are touching. “I know", his nose is hot against yours, "it was still awful.”

You both lay that way for a while. Your thumb brushing against his red cheek, he sniffles a couple times. you hate seeing him this way, with his lashes clumped together, his beautiful eyes all red. The moisture glistening under his eyes doesn't let you fawn over his freckles like you'd normally wish to.

When his skin is a little less warm, and his heartbeat calmer beneath your fingertips, you kiss him. Your hand snakes up to hold his face. Fingers, softly rubbing over the spot behind his ear that makes him melt. You kiss him all slow and purposefully, so he knows that he has all the time in the world.

When you pull away, he murmurs, “Can we go back to sleep?” he pulls you closer, face burying into your neck, warm puffs of breath against your collarbones.

You land a quick kiss on his eyebrow before resting your chin above his head, “‘course”

...

You wake up to the alarm clock on Steve’s side of the bed. He turns off the thing before rolling around in your arms onto his back and then turning his head to face you. “Hi”, he smiles that way again and you do the same, sleepy as ever.

“Hi”, you say still half asleep– you ended up not getting a lot of sleep last night. Thankfully you had the day off today, so you plan on being unproductive and sleeping it away.

He stretches, a yawn escaping him, “Jesus, I so don't wanna go to work today”, your boyfriend laments.

You hum, “then don't go” you propose, eyes still closed, “We can both have a day off”

He turns his body so it faces you, leaning on his elbow. His hand moves to your waist before massaging the love handle there “hmm, tempting. I can't though”

“No fun”, you mumble groggily.

“Hey, don't fall asleep on me”, he brushes the hair that falls on your face with the back of his hand.

"But ‘m sleepy", you mumble into the pillow.

"Aw, don't worry, I will kiss it away, honey." He leans down, a smirk painted across his features. His soft lips land on your cheeks first, then one on your nose, they follow a trail that leads to your lips.

You hide your face in the pillow before your lips could meet though, “No, No kissing!” you giggle, holding up your palm to his face, effectively blocking his attacks, “no kissing before brushing your teeth!"

“You're no fun”, he rolls out of the twist of sheets. He stretches his arms, the muscles rippling beneath the skin– he's trying to entice you, seduce you. and if you weren't so damn sleepy, you would have climbed him up like a koala. He gets up to go to the bathroom. When he notices that you haven't moved, he pulls you by your ankle. You let out a surprised shriek that transforms into giggles when you feel his fingers creeping up your torso– tickling you. ”Here comes the tickle monster!” 

A fit of giggles erupts from your throat, "What are you–", your question gets interrupted by your own laughs.

"The tickle monster will not relent unless you wake up!"

“No! Okay, okay, I'm awake! Steve! I am awake!”

The two of you share the cramped space of the bathroom. It is small, but its the best you could afford. So when you brush your teeth together, you try to relish it when your elbows bump. And when you're done, he kisses you as if he waited ages. 

By now, you're a bit more awake so you decide to get his breakfast ready while he takes a shower. It's simple enough, waffles with banana and some coffee. When he comes back out, he kisses you again when he sees you at the stove, this time on the crown of your head.

When he is getting his keys to leave, he gives you another peck, “drive safe", you murmur against his lips..

“I will. You get some sleep, yeah?” you hum and nod in response. You both bid your goodbyes before he turns to leave.

You decide to eat the leftover waffles and clean up a little before returning to your bed. You make yourself a plate with the bananas neatly cut and placed beside the waffles. You drizzle maple syrup, and then start eating the sickly sweet breakfast, skipping the coffee. While you're pouring yourself a second helping of the maple syrup, the expiration date on the bottle catches your eye. expired more than a year ago. ew. 

Your face scrunches in disgust before immediately throwing it in the trash. And you wonder how the hell either of you hadn't gotten food poisoning yet. then it hits you, from what you remember you bought that bottle only a couple months ago. Did you buy an already expired one?

You open the fridge, the condiments and bottles staring at you. One by one, you check each and every one; ketchup, expired. Hot sauce, expired. Whipped cream, chocolate sauce, milk– expired, expired, expired. 

What the fuck?

You throw it all out and make a point to call Steve later to buy everything as he often calls to ask if you had to get something from the store. And that makes you wonder, when was the last time you actually told him he needed to get something?

You try not to think too much about it. Honestly, you don't know what to make of it, so you decide to go back to sleep.

…

You hear your name. Its faint. It echoes. Like a whisper in a church.

“y/n”, you know that voice. “I– I know you’re there, y/n”, the woman says, all shaky but sure. “y/n”, she repeats. Its that voice… again. 

Who are you?

“Its me, y/n! Its me!” she exclaims as if that would make you remember.

I don't ... understand.

“Baby, just tell me where you are– I'll find you.”

I’m home.

“Home? No– no baby, you’re not. You haven't been home—” her voice gets cut off. It becomes too loud. You feel as if the veins in your temple are going to explode. Its too loud to even tell what it is you’re hearing. Its a static like a radio or a TV, or maybe its wind, maybe its cars, maybe its screams. You think you hear sirens– you wonder if they’re the police or an ambulance. You hear your own breathing, your own heartbeat. Its deafening. And beneath it all, you hear….. Ringing.

Ring-ring. Ring-ring. 

Your eyes fling open and you see your ceiling, you smell the faded mixture of your perfume and Steve's cologne. You’re in your bed. You still hear the ringing. The phone.

You are up in a second. Rushing towards the origin of the sound. When you’re there, you dont wait a second, the plastic is already to your ear.

“Hell– hello?” it comes out all out of breath and broken.

“Honey, you’re– you okay?” its not the voice of that woman.

“...Steve?”

“Who else?”, he chuckles, “you okay?”

“Uh– yeah,”you clear your throat, “I was um– sleeping. I think I just had a dream..” your hand creeps up to the back of your neck, scratching there to try to alleviate a little bit of the ache.

“Oh, well okay sleepy. I just wanted to check if you need me to buy anything? Like, groceries or whatever on my way back.” you give him the entire list of everything you wanted him to get. You would've talked more if Steve hadn't been interrupted by a customer. Nevertheless, you said your 'I love you's and the call ended.

Your heart is still loud in your ears but the ache has dulled down for the most part.

that voice. that woman. 

Its me. 

I’ll find you. 

You haven't been home.

"Home..", you say out loud to yourself. Home.

...

Hours have passed. you think you’re losing your mind because you have turned the apartment upside down. you're surrounded by boxes, most of them filled with normal things, your tattered rollerskates, shoes, old clothes. Most of it was normal, except one.

One unlabeled box you found in the corner of your closet. You haven't touched that box in ages, not since your fallout with your family, lying out of sight and out of mind. It didn't have a lot, all packed in a hurry. things you'd had in your room. picture frames, some books, clothes, papers.

You pick up a frame. The picture was from when you were a twelve-year-old. Wearing what were your favourite clothes back then, your hair in a manner that made you feel a little sorry. You're so different now, yet somehow its still you. There's your older sister, her braces glimmering under the flash of the old camera– her smile wide. Your dad, who doesn't ever know how to pose in pictures. Your mom, she holds you and your sister by your shoulders, a soft smile on her lips, her makeup done perfectly. Another picture from your high school. Another of you with your sister and cousins. 

You pull out the books, the pages are slightly yellowed and they have an earthy smell to them that you love. Pages you don't remember reading, dog-eared and written in.

Then there's the papers– some doodles, some notes, a few maps, some scraps and then.... a file. the file that has your name written on it. And when you open it; medical papers. medical bills. They are a little more than a year old. This wasn't a small stay apparently. From what you can tell from the dates on the bills, it lasted months. You don't remember going to the hospital.

Okay, what the actual fuck?

You find yourself reading through all the details of the paper on the floor of your closet.

months. you had been there for months. Steve's dream.

The entire time, you read and re-read the papers. Why don't you remember any of this? Why does Steve not remember any of this? Maybe he does, he had that dream after all, right? Why are there no discharge papers?

Hours pass. It's maddening, how slow the time passes. Its absolutely maddening. What the fuck does it mean that you haven't been home? You are home. and who the fuck was that woman?

You look through the box again, its contents scattered around you by now. The photos. Your family. Your parents. You miss them. You haven't seen them in so long...

Some broken memories have come to you. You had left– run away. You don't remember why. Then you met Steve when you were stopping by in Hawkins for a few months. You fell in love so quickly. Then one day, you asked if he wanted to run away with you. He said yes and you both left Hawkins and came here.

You don't remember much after that.

Wait, where is hawkins? and why did you go there?

...

It is 7 p.m. and you are pretty sure you have lost your mind. Why isn't Steve home yet? You need Steve. He's the only one who could ever fix you. And now, you need him to fix you again. You need him to fix this, to make some sense of this.

You are sitting by the door, eyes fixated on the hands of the clock.

7:01, nothing. Your arms fidget.

7:02, nothing. Your leg bounces.

7:03, 7:04, 7:05, 7:06, 7:07; nothing, nothing, nothing.

Then, 7:08 p.m., rattle of keys and the sound of the door being closed. Steve. Steve is home. Steve.

You're up on your feet instantly, Steve comes in holding a bag of groceries in one hand and his keys in the other, “I was so worried about you!” you say all hysterical.

“Worried, why?" he says, almost chuckling, but his brows furrow before he looks down at his wristwatch, shaking his head,"I don't think I’m late.” He leans in to land a kiss on your lips, but before he could do so, you turn your head away, “whats– whats wrong?”

“Can I ask you something?” you wrap your arms around your torso to somehow collect your thoughts a little better. 

"Sure", he assures before moving to put the grocery bag on the beige kitchen counter. 

You follow behind him with hurried steps, "When did we buy groceries before this?"

He starts taking out the groceries, "um.. I don't–” he pauses, looking up as if trying to remember himself, “last month probably?" Confusion paints his face, "why?"

"All the stuff in our fridge had gone bad ages ago."

"What?"

“Have you talked to your friends recently? Where are they?” All your attempts to collect your thoughts are all for nought as questions come tumbling out of your lips and you don't even wait for Steve to give a response.

“Honey, why are you–”

“Okay, okay– what about that nightmare you had?”

“Nightmare?” he echoes, brows scrunching together as if he had no idea what you were talking about, “what nightmare?” he asks like he hadn't cried in your arms the previous night.

“Last night! You had a nightmare that I was in a hospital and– and then I was looking through our closet and I find these medical bills–

“Woah, honey. I didn’t have a nightmare. I think I'd remember something like that.. And– what bills?”

Your feet are moving before he even finishes his sentence, you grab the bundle of papers, you show him everything. And he just... stares at them. After some time, all that comes out of his mouth is a “what the fuck...” under his breath.

“I don't understand Steve, I don't remember, you don't remember. And there was this call yesterday–”

“Call? what– from who?”

“From– “ you pause, trying to remember, “ I– I dont…” from who? And then you feel everything you had recalled leaving you. Who called you? What was Steve's nightmare? 

“I don't remember!" you exclaim, frustrated, "why do– I'm so– I'm scared Steve. I’m–”

“Hey, it's okay. you have me honey, you have me”, he holds you by your shoulders, to provide you some semblance of comfort, "we'll figure something out.”

“Steve….”, you mumble, tears starting to collect on your lash line, “something's not right Steve…”

“Its okay..”

“No, no– I dont– I keep forgetting stuff. Why don't I remember anything?”

“Hey, honey—”

“And whatever I do remember; none of it makes sense– nothing makes sense!"

“Its okay–”

“Do not tell me to breathe–”, “breathe for me–” you warn him the exact same time he says it.

You have lost it. You have lost your mind. Eyes wide, you ask, “Why do I already know what you’re going to say? How is that– “

“Hey, hey look at me”, he holds your face in his warm palms, “Breathe for me”, he instructs, “please honey.”

“Steve”, you pull his hands away from your face not because you don't want him to hold you. You do, you want him to hold you forever, but dammit, you feel like you’re going crazy, “where did we meet?”

“Honey–”

“Where did we meet?”

“Family video! We met in Family Video! You just came in one day and asked if I could help you pick out a movie to lift your mood up”

“Where is family video? Like, what town? Wh– what state?”

“..Hawkins, Indiana”

“Steve.. There's no town named Hawkins in Indiana”

“Of course ther–”

“No– no. You can look in a map steve. There was a map in one of those boxes. No town named Hawkins. And then– those papers...” you gesture towards the papers in his hand. You stand there, impatiently so, as he scans over the papers once again. For a split second, you think you see a tinge of recognition in his eyes.

“What does it mean, Steve? Then your dream last night–”, he hands you the papers before turning towards the door.

“Steve, hey, steve!” He heads towards the apartment door. “Steve, come back here!” he doesn't stop, doesn't even spare a glance, his movement robotic. Your voice gets louder, more authoritative, angry “Steve! Come back here right the hell now.”

He doesn't stop, not for his keys, not to tie his shoes. Not for you. Tears cloud your vision and your words come out all desperate and weak, “Steve please! Please don't leave me..”

The door slams shut. Its loud, the silence after it. 

“No..” you whimper to yourself. Tears, finally streaming down your face.

He'll come back, you know he'll come back, sooner or later. He’ll come back to you. Steve wouldn't leave you. He couldn't.

You wait by the door. hours pass. You fall asleep waiting for him.

…

You wake up to the smell of something sweet in the air. When you open your eyes, you’re on the couch. But you don't have time to think about whether your neck will hurt for the rest of the day because Steve is there, standing over the stove– his back facing you. 

“Steve?” your voice comes out croaky.

“Y’wake baby?” he turns to take a glance at you. The furrow between his brows you saw the previous night gone. He smiles softly when you nod dumbly at the rhetorical question, “Well brush your teeth I’m making pancakes”

“Steve..” 

He notices that you don’t move, your gaze fixed on him. “Hey, what's wrong?” he leaves the batter he was working on on the counter before walking towards you, “You okay?”

“I’m sorry”

He kneels down infront of you, holding your hands in his– he smells like vanilla from up this close, “Sorry, for what?”

“Yesterday… I didn't mean to upset you. I just– I was–”

“What would I be upset for?”

“Last night.. I–”

“baby, I’m not upset”

“But you just left and..” you sniffle, “when did you come back?”

“I didn't leave. I was here the entire time”, he shook his head, confused.

“But– I… “

“I think you had a dream honey. Freshen up, kay? I’ll bring breakfast. I think we should rot in bed the entire day today. Get some sleep. How’s that sound, honey?”

You nod, he smiles as he pulls you in for a quick kiss, “Good thing we both have the day off– thank jesus for sundays”

…

7:08 p.m. that is what Steve's wristwatch reads and he is standing at your apartment door. Steve isn't sure why he is back. He isn't sure why he left. Maybe he needed some time. And spending nearly an entire day alone... he remembers things. things he wishes he could forget again.

Although Steve is unsure about a lot of things. one thing is for certain. He loves you. He loves you like he was made for it... and he was.

He was made for loving you and not loving you is not living. He's been there before, not having you to love, he remembers the torture of it. You still don't recall it yet and he doesn't want you to, but he does. He remembers it all. All the hurt, the loneliness, the grief, the silence.

The grief that was too much to bear. Silence was unbearable when it wasn't mixed with your heartbeat.

When he turns the door handle– the door isn't locked. He steps in slowly.

He can hear the TV playing, you're on the couch. there's someone else with you. Its him.

Steve watches as he sits between your thighs on the couch– his place, your fingers playing with his hair. He readjusts his head as if can’t quite find a comfortable spot, “You okay?” you ask as gently as you always do.

“Uh, yeah its just–” he sounds just like him, “I just have this nick in my neck”, he says rubbing the back of his neck.

“Here, let me…” you mumble sweetly as your expert fingers move to where he said it ached.

He sees you dig that spot a little with your thumb, “Ah, thanks honey” he almost melts, and it makes him groan the way that always drew a groan out of Steve.

Steve doesn't mind you made him, you probably didn't even know you did, you're powerful like that. But Steve feels something bubble inside him– maybe this is what jealousy feels like. Steve watches, watches as you touch him. He digs his nails into his palm, he feels the urge to touch where you are touching him. He wonders what he would feel when his thumb would run over that area.

His fingers rise on their own accord. Skin barely touching skin, almost hovering. And then he feels… a bump. He isn't sure how to describe it but he knows that that isn't supposed to be there. Not normally, anyway.

He watches as your expert fingers move up into his hair, he always loved when you did that to him. 

His own fingers move higher into his hair. He feels another– another protrusion, another bump.

Steve knows what those are, he knows not to press down on them. You have them too. You have them where he holds you when he kisses you. Its the reason you don't remember, its the reason he didn't remember. Just for a day, he didn't have you to hold him like the way you always do and now he remembers.

Steve watches as he leans down to kiss you. And all Steve sees is red. He doesn’t have control over him as he stomps over to where the two of you were. Your heads snap towards the sound. Confusion flashes through both your features.

“y/n”, Steve says. He watches as your eyes flick between himself and the other. Your eyes land on his. Of course you know he is the real Steve. You made him.

He holds a protective hand infront of you, “y/n”, he sounds like him, “y/n, get inside”, he nods towards your bedroom door. 

“Look, man I dont know who the fuck you are. But you need to leave”, Steve hates him, he sounds nothing like him. objectively that might not be true, but he isn't him.

“You don't know who I am? Fucking look at me"

“y/n get inside”, Steve doesn't like how he says your name, how he shouts it. It sounds nothing like him. 

Steve lets you go, he doesn’t want you to see this. 

You can't look away despite not being able to see much through the sliver of the slightly ajar bedroom door. It is only when he lands a punch on Steve, that you move away from the door– eyes closing on themselves.

You hear shouts. Then thuds, knuckles hitting jaws. Some more thuds and then a loud crack. Then nothing. Its becomes too quiet. 

You quietly step even further away from the door when you hear footsteps approaching, until you feel your back hit the wall. 

The hinges of the slightly ajar door creak. and he is there. Your Steve.

He has a split lip, bruises blooming on his cheekbones. Blood splattered on his jeans, on his hands, his arms. He lifts his arm to wipe his bleeding lip, more so smearing the blood in the process. Your eyes water, heartbeat too damn loud in your ears, eyes wide as a doe.

“It's Steve. your Steve”, he reassures you, holding your face by your chin. From up this close, the blood on him doesn't look quite like blood. Its too dark, too shiny, more viscous than it should be and it doesn't seem to clot. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

“But you already know that. dont you, honey?” Steve coos oh so gently as he thumbs over your cheeks to rid you of the tear stains. He feels sorry when the action instead makes the blood on his hands smear across your skin. He regrets it immediately, to have tainted you with it. He is sorry you have to see all this, to see him like this.

Steve knows he'll give it all up for you. If he ever had something to give, he would give it all up, just like you did.

Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

“It's for you, honey.”

He moves aside so you can go to the phone. It rings loud as it did earlier. You move past the kitchen, you don't see him– not entirely. He is on the floor, you see his hand around the corner of the kitchen counter, lifeless, a pool of that blood surrounding him. The corner of the kitchen counter drips with the liquid, forming a stark contrast against the light beige.

You move past the kitchen counter, eyes not daring to look at him or Steve, you don't turn around to see if Steve is there watching. You know he is.

You move to the bright red phone that is still ringing, blaring. You pick it and hold it up to your ear, “hello?”

“y– y/n? y/n its– it's me”, that woman says. And somehow, now, you know who she is. “it's me, do you–”

“Mom?” you say it before you even realise you did.

“Oh my goodness! Yes baby, it's– it's me!”

“I’m sorry mom, I had to.”

“y/n, what–”

“I have to go now.”

“y/n, no– no. Please don't hang up–” click.

“There you go honey", you feel Steve's warm hands on your shoulder, he rubs into the tense muscles there– surely staining your shirt with the liquid, "there you go."

You turn around and you see his eyes-- beautiful coffee coloured things, moles littered across his skin just the way you've memorized to heart. That smile, adorning and warm as ever. He holds you like he always does, thumb on your cheek, palm holding your face. 

He holds you like he was made for it. Your cheek fit perfectly in his palm as if you were made for him. You were made for each other.

You lean in closer and then your lips meet. It isn't hard and fast. Its slow and deep. Like you have all the time in the world, and you do.

When you pull apart and look at him, its just him. Your Steve.

You don't even remember what it was you had been worried about. All you see is Steve, all you feel is Steve. Your lover, your home, your family, your everything. It's all Steve.

You smile up at Steve and everything is right. The blood he had smeared on you was gone. The counter was clean. He was gone. Everything is right, once again.

"So", he starts, walking towards the stove, "what are we feelin' today? pancakes with blueberries, strawberries, or plain ol' choco-chip?"

"Is there an ‘all of the above’ option?"

"For you? always."

...

[fearofahumanplanet]

D.N.R. (short story by me)

I've been just venting with this blog lately and that's kinda cringe so I'm going to compensate by venting with a story instead, something I wrote a long time ago to help cope with my BPD and process it. I hope it can help someone understand people with this condition or help those with this condition find something to relate to or smth.

I'm okay right now, I'm just really proud of this story and wanted to actually share some of my work to maybe cope with how I've been feeling today better. I wrote this story a year or two ago and I'm doing a lot better now - I have a therapist, treatment, a small support system, etc. I don't want this story to prompt worry, I just want to share for anyone who needs it. It's dark, but it's how I heal.

TW: Suicide references/suicidal thoughts, self-harm, BPD symptoms & references to unstable relationships, light blood, self-hatred (lmk if I should add any more). If you're in a bad place, I would not advise reading this (unless raw emotion like this helps you personally).

General Taglist: @aohendo, @athenswrites, @impaledlotus, @bardic-tales, @carefulpyro

I live my life in a waiting room.

I wait, they wait, we all wait. It’s supposed to bring us together. It’s supposed to make some sort of fucking team out of us. That’s the funny thing about people, really. You could glue us together, and we’d tear ourselves in half just to get away.

Don’t take that as a criticism free of hypocrisy.

With that thought in mind, I can only thank the heartless gods above for sentencing me solace, over and over and over, and I’ve never been so compliant and happy with a decision I loathe and regret.

My name doesn’t matter, never has. I’m a therapist of sorts. Real funny, I know – People can always tell, even past the pessimism that drenches every word, the agoraphobic misanthrope at my core.

You wouldn’t think I’d manage it, but it’s fascinating, how far you can get with a broken smile.

I mean, it’s a broken smile – Of course it’s a lie. Of course it’s a fallacy, of course it’s forced, fit for a fiend. But no one’s noticed yet. That’s the strength of a well-timed joke, one calculated mask. You hide everything you are, and you find something that’s real likeable. A real people person, someone sent to save.

And I save. Some days, I don’t feel I can manage that, but they tell me so. In this room of four walls, of a blank floor and ceiling, of nothing but a clean, inviting chair – I find the writings on the walls, the notes in the margins, little hopes from the haughty heavens.

You’re not alone. You are loved. You are valuable. You save so many. You are funny. You never run out of things to say. You are loved. You have saved lives. You have redeemed every sin. You are loved. You know how to bring a smile. You aren’t going to die alone. You won’t ever be alone again.

The angels of my idyllic fantasies surround me, chanting, touching, holding.

You are loved. You are loved. You are loved. You are loved. You are loved.

And every day, I remember to stop slamming my head into the wall with every recitation. Every day, I lean down low, where all is familiar. I soak the blood in my fingers, let it run down the skin, let it fill out the cracks in my psyche. And when it’s all buried, when it’s all swept out of sight…

I slap on my broken smile, and greet the droves devouring.

It’s another broken woman, meek behind a mismatched mask. Her smile is broken, and I’m the only one who sees. They never mean to find their way to me, but they do.

It’s the same game every bloody time. I say hello. They say hello. They wonder how I got here. I just tell them I have a knack for showing where I’m needed. They don’t think about it. They never think. They don’t even know who I really am, my mask a memorable masterpiece. It’s always small talk at first. Music, video games. They tell me they don’t understand, my compassion, my kindness, my understandings. I shrug, and flash another humble, hollow smile.

Why wouldn’t I be this way, I say. Every damn time. I never need to adjust the script. There are no plot holes to cover, no rusted gears. The system grinds on without deviation.

I try not to let them in. I try to keep them above surface level, make sure they only meet the mask. It never works, but I’m going to try again. Spin the hamster wheel.

It’s not that I wish to keep them away, you see. I’m only an isolationist by incident, a misanthrope by mistake, a pariah by punishment. I’m sick, hopelessly sick. It seeps out from beneath my skin, hiding behind my sunken eyes, lurking under my serpent tongue. I try to swallow it down, treasure the venom. No one needs to know, no one that doesn’t already. No one I’ve yet to fail.

And this woman, like every one before her, she doesn’t know a thing about me. But the venom is alluring, and I know everything about her. I see it in her lying eyes, and she breaks down and spills her guts out on the floor. I just mop them up and listen, cradle her when she cries, pet her hair when she can’t spit out any more. And I just smile and embody the angels.

It will be all right. You are loved. You are not alone. There is someone out there for you. You will not die alone. You are loved. No one is beyond redemption. No one is without hope.

And I can say every word with absolute belief, every scene in my script without error. I have had thousands of years to practice, and I will have thousands more.

This next bit always happens. Actually, I could say that about everything here, but this I resent the most. She thanks me, and tells me she’ll be back tomorrow. I smile and tell her I’d love that. She says she will never abandon me.

I keep the smile on, let loose no levity. And I tell her, like I told all the others. These things never last. She will grow to hate me, and I tell her so. She will grow to loathe the mere thought of me, and I tell her so. She will grow to rue my name, to curse the ground I walk on, to panic and stab and burn until there is nothing left of me before her.

And I tell her so.

And without a waver, taking no time for hesitation, she just says she’s not like the others. That she isn’t going anywhere, this time. That there is hope this time. And not once she wonders why the theoretical therapist is the one breaking down every fucking night. Why would she? It’s all out of sight.

And she’s gone, away from me, and I know she will spend every minute thinking about me. And I know I will spend every one of those minutes regretting them.

This pariah paces her pen, praying for a pale horse.

The silence overwhelms. The silence snuffs, the silence sneaks in when you think you’ve found a sure fate.

I contemplate, turn and roll over in mud and dirt. The day slips away, and night nuzzles in. I think about my newest woman. I have seen it happen so many times, over thousands of years, hundreds and hundreds of times.

But I am naught but a full circle, and I allow myself hope again. I allow myself one more forsaken breath.

The silence slips down low, rejuvenating my venom, strengthening my sickness. I try to eat, and I vomit it up, hoping my heart will come up with it. The thought is fast and sudden, just like that. It no longer shocks, no longer ignites alarm. I cannot fathom concern.

I rock back and forth in the dark, empty room. I put on one of countless records, watch movies of malicious murder and horrific hatred, write another story no one will ever read. I pace the room, I kick the walls, I scream my lungs out to the tune of my favourite song. With every meaningless minute, I forget myself. With every severed second, I lose track.

And it always hits me, every night, the same sudden thought, the same onset of dread. Isn’t that funny?

Every night, I feel I’ve lost my mind.

I can’t lose it over and over, of course. It must have left me long ago. But if I’m going to lose my mind, couldn’t it take all of its malignant maladies with it?

The second thought is always the same too. This fate feels like forever.

And that’s even sillier than the first. Of course it’s forever. It will always be forever. There is no escape.

There is a third thought. Don’t worry, this is the last one, and it too, happens every night.

It’s that this thought should be the last one.

So, I make it so. I take the knife, and I try to find out what makes me tick, scout out a new avenue, plot out some new elaborate method I have yet to attempt. Every night, that is how I go, cradling the knife like a stuffed teddy, showering myself in a bottle of vodka, popping my pills like candy.

I find every way to numb my nagging nuisance of a mind, and it still keeps coming. Because I know, deep down, this new hope is nothing new. It is a resurgence, a repetition of centuries past. It is a false flare, a lost lighthouse. And I swim and I swim, even as I tell myself to sink. And every night, I do. I sink, drenched in my own blood, seeping out through freshly torn slits, the aroma of alcohol affecting every word I regret. I spend minutes debating, searching, no inch of skin untarnished.

It comes to something when you run out of room for scars.

I’ll say not a word, not to the aiding angels, not to the compassionate client. I am alone, I have always been and always will be. I was born and thrown away without the aid of another, abandoned with abject apathy, and I am content with my lot.

I am not content because I am happy, but I am content for I know there is nothing better.

Sometimes, if I’m particularly unlucky, the angels will hover in, finding my bloodstained, drunken corpse stretched out across the floor. They will tug the bottles from my hands, hide the knife somewhere else, knowing I will find it again. I am determined, I am without limit, waning in this war simply for a will without want.

If they’re there, they always tell me. I am loved. I am wanted. I am needed. I am of worth. I am of benefit. I have saved. I have redeemed. I am not alone.

The angels smile around me, fading with every flicker of the candle. They are real, but they don’t know a thing. They are so far away, holding me to their chests.

They are scared. I am loved. They are scared. I am loved. They are scared. I am loved.

They need me. They can’t live without me. They can’t. They can’t imagine a world without me.

It’s a shame I have proven to be so uselessly useful. It is a shame I have found a way to chain worthy souls to my empty body. It is a shame I always manage to find a new person to save, when I can’t even save myself.

It is a shame they can’t imagine a world without me, because I no longer want to imagine a world with me.

Every time I die, I fear at the fall. Not for my soul, for the promise of hell is a welcome relief. Not for the ones left behind, because I know they’re better off without.

And every night, I write it on my neck, over a thousand purple scars.

D.N.R.

Instructions no one will abide by. I hope they do this time. I hope they abide. I hope they forget. I hope they respect.

Tonight is like every night. I pass away and fall, embrace the empty, find there is nothing beyond the void, realize the devil below or the salvation above are simply manufactured dreams.

There is nothing, and I am nothing.

Every morning, air ambushes my ambivalence. I remember to live again, remember I have a job to do. I roll out of bed, stitch the wounds, pry shattered glass loose of skin. I feel for my heart without hope, and see with no amount of surprise that beats once more.

I loom over the mirror, and search the dirtied floor for my abandoned broken smile.

I stitch on my savior’s smile.

And I meet the woman again, the name of who matters not. They orbit my ouroboros, like every one before her, and they are identical in naught but function.

Like all the others before her, I embody her anchor. She comes to me, day in, day out. She sees the fresh scars and beating bruises, but I tell her to worry not. I reassure her with promises and encourage, and I get closer and closer.

And every time I learn to love again, I forget why I chose to let that knowledge go.

The longer we lay together, the less she’s convinced. As weeks whistle by, I have to let my mask slip, loose my serpent’s tongue. The venom crawls down her skin, and I can see what I am doing, but I am too selfish to care. With every drop, my scars and sins come clearer in view, like blurred photographs rendered in clarity.

And I can see her eyes break with every passing month, but I am too selfish to care, too lonely and lost to let her go.

I tell her of the ocean, of my wistful love for the waves. I tell her of beaches, of abyssal depths only I know. I tell her I will take there, I tell her I will never let her go. And I know I never will.

And with my hand in hers, every longing lie is a cross easier to bear. My will wears away with every passing night. Every moon, I re-iterate my instruction.

D.N.R.

Because maybe they’ll listen.

D.N.R.

Maybe someone above will practice mercy.

D.N.R.

And with all this hate I’ve spread, this venom I’ve made a virus, you’d think one victim would find a way to strike me down.

Tonight, months into this ouroboros, she joins the angels, the hundreds of angels. She is still solid yet, not like them, fading and translucent, hazy and flickering. She has found me with a fallen mask, met me in my correct configuration.

I always want to tell them not to lean on me. Because when they do, I lean on them, and I know the disease will spread.

But she joins the angels, like all the real ones did before, pleading with me, making me promises I know will fade away. She fails to see them around her, crowding, begging.

I am loved. I am wanted. I am needed. I am valuable. I am of worth. I am helpful. I am funny. I am the highlight of your day. I am clever. I am insightful. I am a blessing.

And you are lying. And you are lying. And you are lying. And you are lying. And you are lying.

And I wish you fucking knew that.

And I beg her not to leave me, as the blood fills my lungs. And she says she never will.

Not like every love before her, not like every ally before her, not like my mother before her, not like my home before her.

And the promise is a cushion, even as I know she’ll change her mind. But I hold onto hope. Because that’s what the angels tell me every day.

There is hope. No one is beyond saving. You still have time.

Time is not a comfort. Time is a sentence. Time is the promise of life. Time is something I do not wish to handle.

And I scream out every one of these words, roar out many more.

Because when the mask falls, I am the venom. I am sick, I am violent, I am overcome, I am lashing out.

And no matter how hard I try, I find no healthy option to shuttle it all away.

How do you help someone hidden away in the waiting room? How do you help someone buried from birth, silenced from the start?

Why do they tell me they want to hear my words, when every single letter leaves a scar?

I am never alone. My shadow hangs over me, and it never leaves me a moment’s peace.

And so I die again, choking on my own poisonous bile.

This is not the first incident the woman sees. It happens again, two weeks later. Again, four days after. Again, two days after. Again, three hours after.

Because once the mask drops, I can never seem to find it again, and I fail to dig up another broken smile.

The sickness wears on her, paling her skin, bags beneath her eyes, cold resignation beneath more and more words. And I have seen it happen a thousand times, and I cannot help but remind her that it is my fault she grows sick. I remind her that I am at fault for my contagious nature.

And it takes so long. It takes months, and months. But she finally lets go.

I hold her all night long, and we talk of the ocean. I hold her, and she tells me of the places we’ll go, and the things we will see. And I dream of broken promises.

I dream of the ocean.

I wake up, and she is gone.

I scream and I thrash, and I drench her side of the bed with my blood.

The sun comes and goes without care, hidden out of sight. I shiver and vomit, cradling my broken body, tracing every well-deserved scar. And I wake up dead that morning, once more, routine inescapable.

I stare my newest angel in the eyes, pale and flickering like the rest, a ghost to the reasonable soul.

A mangled memory.

I am loved. I am needed. I am wanted. I am helpful. I am clever. I am helpful. I am a blessing. I am-

I shoot the angel, knowing she will return, knowing the ghosts of my criminal past are this pariah’s penance. I take another drink, gulp down another pill, come up with another broken smile.

I know not whether this will ever end. But this is my lot in life, and I have learned to welcome my lonely road.

I hear the chime of the bell, another clueless client, the ouroboros coiling anew.

I consider my options, consider the dead woman, staring back at me from the mirror with empty eyes.

And I know I will keep fighting. I know this is a war I will always wage. It is not out of want, nor out of will. Not out of spite. Not out of hope, not out of hate. Not out of love.

I stand up again, and again, and again, because I have nothing left to fear. I continue to fight because there is no terror found in a predictable cycle, no horror in a novel with a spoiled ending. To want to live, to want to die, I’d have to care.

And if I cared, I’d collapse under the weight of every single thing I’ve ever done.

So I stare down these sunken, apathetic eyes, resigned in their duty. I carve the instructions in my forehead once again. Not out of hope, but out of habit.

D.N.R.

Do not resuscitate.

Maybe one of these days, lightning will strike.

If not, I am content with waiting.

[waybrights]

About your Sats AU, do you have a headcanon about how Sasha starts making amends with Anne and Marcy once they reunite again? As my hc, I see that she is pretty nervous and awkward around them and trying so hard to be better and show them she has changed, too hard that even Marcy considers it funny, and sometimes she advises her to relax because she gets too stressed making everything absolutely perfect for them. Anne, on the other hand, is still suspicious and resentful towards Sasha so earning her trust takes more time. And Sasha at first interacts with her as long as Anne wants to or needs something.

i think this is actually p accurate!!! they reunite by total coincidence at an award show (for sasha and anne's solo albums!), and yes it is awkward, esp between sasha and anne (though I'm not gonna reveal the full reason why for spoiler reasons).

theyre very obviously walking on egg shells w each other, sashas being overly nice to try and compensate for the guilt she's been feeling for the past year and bit. anne is still upset, but not to the point she's directly rude or anything, she just doesn't really engage in conversation much unless she really has to, like the cameras being or them or a fan comes up.

there's a point where they're both nominated for the same award and the table gets really tense, anne wins and there's a moment of silence as they all glance at sasha, who is already grinning and clapping. its obvious that she's changed, but at the same time anne feels like she's laying it on a bit too thick to the point it could be fake. still, she's also the first one to clap/cheer whenever sasha gets something. (its so beyond obvious to everyone else they still care abt each other and their dislike is becoming faker by the minute, but the pair are just way to oblivious to notice themselves).

marcy ofc finds it hilarious, how they're practically dancing around each other because they could never actually realise their feelings for each other. she is quicker to get comfortable around sasha again, they sit close to them at the table, link arms w her when they go walking around, cheers the loudest when sasha and anne get awards. she is still upset that their argument brought such a huge divide to the band, but i feel like their love for sasha would outweigh her anger.

during the award ceremony, marcy keeps leaning over to whisper in sashas ear, everyone thinks theyre talking abt people or telling sasha stupid jokes or smth, but she's actually telling her to just relax, and 'anne missed you too, sashy, no need to lay it on so thick.' (sasha does visibly relax at that, and does tone it downa bit shsggsvs)

[secretsappyabode]

You're so lovely thank you for your sweet support on my Texfred art Tiff, I appreciate you for taking the time to write such kind things ;-----;✨🧡👑!!!

I wanted to come ask, what are some of the ways the twins like to make you laugh, especially when you could really use a good cheer-me-up :o?

Clover @tex-treasures

its my absolute pleasure clover!!! :''''') ty for the ask!! <33333

AAAAAAA this question is so sweet!! honestly, making each other laugh is like ESSENTIAL in my relationships yknow jkfgkljdfhgkjhd. cuz the moment you know another persons sense of humour, and knowing what makes them laugh/smile? such a nice way of making them happy and idk theres something personal about that. laughter is the best feeling in the world and if you can make ur partner feel that way? idk to me thats the way to my heart hehehe

Stan is a really funny person, like its one of his strong traits. even if hes not trying to be funny, his snark and bitter sarcasm is enough to make me crack a smile. like.....hes also just really rude?? hfjhdgdfk like he will outright tell someone that they have an ugly baby like "woah lady you have one ugly baby!!" AND I JUST- ON ONE HAND ITS LIKE STAN U CANT JUST SAY THAT BUT ON THE OTHER HAND HOLY SHIT HIS BLUNTNESS CAN BE REALLY FUNNY not because of what he says but more so how hes just NOT ASHAMED LIKE STAN PLZZZZ this man cannot be contained

honestly??? anything he cld do to try cheer me up cld work! crack a bad joke, share a funny story, or maybe an impression of some jerk that gave me a hard time, heck even insulting the jerk somehow (not necessarily to their face, although stan wldnt hesitate) stan: ooh look at me i wear too much cologne to compensate for my tiny dick stan: uh oh karen u dropped smth, its the stick that u lodge up ur ass stan: i tell u what tiff u got real good taste, and not just cuz ur dating me and sixer, but everyone in this hick town is ugly as shit like yeesh did they get hit w the ugly stick when they were born or what me: (clutching my sides and tears streaming down my face) STAN PLZ- stan: eheyyyy theres that smile ;)

Ford is a bit different. he doesnt rly use the "make her laugh" tactic to cheer me up, he lets stan take care of that. hes more of the "give her the plaidypus treatment and make her fave drink" guy. basically a lot of holding and words of affirmation, a kiss on the forehead or two shld def do the trick.

HOWEVER, doesnt mean the guy aint funny. hes a diff brand of funny though, he can be sassy and mischievous when he wants to. (when both stan and ford get snarky its a real fuckin treat lemme tell ya) according to journal 3, he used to prank fiddleford by messing w his rubiks cube. its small and harmless, but tiny pranks is his way of playing around and teasing others. sometimes when i enter a room, he starts to sing an old 50s song rly loudly and grabs my hands to swing me around in a bad waltz cuz he knows i get embarrassed easily and i start to giggle out of habit (FJHKJDHFDG IT JUST FLUSTERS ME OK)

also??? yknow his bit with "princess unattainabelle"??? cmon....cmon.....its small instances like that, showing how he can be playful when he wants to be. also he loves to tell bad puns. everytime, its a bad one. and i may groan but i smile and shake my head fondly. ford: u wanna hear a chemistry joke? me: (knowing its gonna be bad) ok sure why not ford: ford: ford: me: yeah? ford: oh sorry were u waiting for a reaction? me: (smiling) oh my goddddddd sTOP

ford can be a little shit hfljhgkjfdhg

also can i just say??? i really like the fan interpretation of the twins done by this person here. he draws them (and everyone in general rly) so well and the silly comics he makes is just so good??? and funny??? like ive basically adopted it into my headcanon that the twins are just Like This

[i-am-a-garbage]

My best friends as those cool bullet point things people do.

A

• He's quiet and has a really deep voice. He doesn't really laugh a lot, but when he does it’s the best thing ever, especially if he's giggling.  

• Super pure

• Tries his hardest to fit in with the rest of us, because he doesn't know that he already fits in with us by being the way that he is. He's like the silence to our noise.

• He stutters when he gets nervous, but he's strong and confident when he's with us.

• He sometimes thinks he's too quiet and boring and tries to compensate by making a ton of jokes with us but he doesn't need to cause his presence alone is the best.

• He eats a lot of ketchup

• Like he's one of the people who will like scoop ketchup onto fries till there's no more fry

• Honestly would rate him 8/8 solid m8

H

• Is a lot like me

• Though really, it's me that’s become him.

• He influences everyone around him, like people say I lead the group but honestly it's him

• He's loud but in the best way possible

• We have like so many inside jokes, it's brilliant

• He has a smile, that’s so contagious it's amazing

• He's always making us smile

• Like I can remember a bit before he moved here and we were so boring and now it's like we have fun

• He's also a big ketchup person, but he's one of those people that like put ketchup ON the fries like some heathen

• I've only known him for a couple of years, but in that time he's become like my brother

• Honestly he's made an amazing impact on my life and I'm so glad to have met him

Y

• My oldest and bestest friend

• Really she's amazing

• Like actually it's great

• I'm so lucky to be friends with her

• Really

• She's so kind and nice and they're the same thing but she's both

• We do have a lot of inside jokes, but instead of the loud laughing kind, they're the kind that you slip into a conversation and no one notices but you and then you realize you’ve stopped walking cause your laughing so hard

• Probably my favourite out of them all, but if anyone asks I only hang around her cause I've known her for ages

• She's so funny and no one really knows because she's kind of shy even around us, but she has the best jokes which I may or may not steal literally all the time

• I worry about her sometimes because she's the youngest in the group and because I do but I know she's strong and probably could throw a tank or smth

• But still I wonder if she's ok but I never have the nerve to ask and I always hope she is cause I hate thinking my friends aren't ok, because I know not being ok and it sucks so yeah.

• She's so short I love it, it's like, she's actually normal height and I'm just freakishly tall, but still, I tease her about it, and it's great and she has to look up at me sometimes and the pure look of distaste she gets when that happens it’s hilarious.

• She's super reliable, and she's put up with me and my late night messages of "You think I should buy 100 rubber ducks for 15 dollars? It's a bargain, I could scatter them around the house for fun."

• All in all 10/ out of 10, would suggest as friend

S

• Yo actually the best

• He's SO NICE it hurts

• He's really slick sometimes, like me and him have pulled off a good bit of stuff just by talking our way out of the thing.

• He's always down to talk to you, whether it's to ask for advice or talk about how you just barely managed to smooth talk your way out of trouble, or just talk about nothing.

• Has one of those laughs that when he laughs if you're not laughing then you aren't human

• He's got  a pretty good fashion sense, like my level fashion sense

• Similar style too

• I steal a lot from him tbh

• He had amazing hair that he cut after like 3 years, so now I'm stealing his hairstyle

• I've known him a really long time too actually, but we weren't actually friends till halfway through our knowing each other

• He's made a lot of memories, and we've planned some trips for the future and I think it's gonna be amazing

• All in all, he's really freaking awesome

N

• I like her

• I really do

• Like I think a lot of people think we kind of just tolerate each other, but we really   are friends, and  it's nice

• She's great, she can be nice, but she also could probably destroy a building of people with words

• She for some reason loves punching me, like all my friends kind of give the occasional friendly slug on the shoulder, but she hits me every time I bug here which is a lot

• Hence people thinking we hate each other

• Apparently, I met her like ages ago but we only just became friends recently

• She only just finally started using social media, and suddenly we talk all the time and It's a bit intimidating, because how do you respond to a post about Selena Gomez when you can barely follow the three celebrities you know, but still, it's fun and it makes me happy

• Really just a softie on the inside

• In the end, a reliable person, and would recommend at least 3 times •

[heyhowyadoingpally]

gummy’s spooky halloween review of literally every ghost in luigi’s mansion that’s not all 50 boos i promise

because i need to do something for halloween and this last-minute things is better than me not doing remotely anything.

i’m not gonna put in a fancy graphic or anything. not gonna be too in-depth, either. just gonna be the ghosts, maybe a dumb joke, and a rating out of 10. so grab that candy corn and black licorice, sit down on your cobweb-riddled leather chair by the gothic fireplace, and pray to god that this whole thing gets done and over with.

the ghosts that aren’t trapped in painting purgatory (like the normal enemies and shit)

bats

fuck these assholes. these fucking cunts flap around the mansion and get in your way and the only way to get past them is fuckin sucking them up with the vacuum and they don’t even give you anything if you catch them. that’s how dumb they are.

rating: 3/10. i hope they choke. i mean, i hope their ghosts choke.

gold bats

are you shitting me.

are you actually shitting me.

like. the other gold ghosts in this game give you money, but these fuckers??? all they do is wait for you to attack first. fuckin great.

rating: 4/10. at least they’re nice enough to let you attack first.

blue twirler

check out this blue bastard. see that grin? see that fucking goofy-ass grin? you know that he’s dead and loving it. i can’t believe i made that joke.

rating: 7/10. a good ghost, but he’s not the best.

blue blaze

it’s a blue twirler but he’s all moist. you gotta frost him with ice.

oh yeah, if you’ve never played the game, you can unlock abilities like shooting fucking flames out of your vacuum. and ice. and water.

but that other garbage isn’t as important as luigi with a fuckin flamethrower

rating: 7/10. i’m not gonna fault him for being a reskinned enemy. i mean, if your gonna add elemental shit in your game it’s without a doubt that you’ll get shit like this.

boo

look, i’m not gonna do all 50 of them, as much as i’d like to sit here and do that.

since we all know that boos rank 500/10 on the ghostometer that i just made up right now, i’m going to go through the names of each boo and share my favorites as compensation:

GameBoo Advance

TurBoo

Boo La La

Kung Boo

Boodacious

Mr. Boojangles

Booscaster

Boolderdash

Bootique

bowling ghost

he’s literally a ghost that rolls bowling balls at you.

this whole ghost’s afterlife is spent rolling a bowling ball at people to be an inconvenience. that’s like. the best thing ever.

rating: 10/10. this fucker’s living the dream.

ceiling surprise

one time i creamed so hard that it made a ceiling surprise and i had to get a stepladder to clean it off

rating: 8/10.

falling star

that’s kinda odd if you think about it. i mean, falling stars are really just space rocks burning up in the atmosphere. does that mean this is the ghost of a space rock? fuck man, that’s metal as all shit.

rating: 10/10. god damn. i’m pissed that i didn’t think of this one.

flying fish

these are fish???

those are way too cute. holy shit. wow. fuck man. i want to hug them and love them and support them. holy shit. goddamn.

rating: a bazillion/10. holy mother of fuck.

garbage can ghost

OH NOW I GET IT. IT LOOKS LIKE A GARBAGE BAG.

fuck. i always thought it was supposed to be like. a monkey ghost or smth. damn.

well now i adore him even more. in case you can’t tell, i have a large soft spot in my heart for a certain garbage creature, so this is obviously a winner to me.

oh yeah. he eats ghost bananas and then throws the peels on the floor so that you can slip on them. what a goofball.

rating: two bazillions/10. need i say anything else

grabbing ghost

these motherfuckers just latch onto you and you have to waggle the joystick around to shake them off. and they also sound kinda like hillbillies.

idk why, but i always think of them as something else. the shape of their body reminds me of something i can’t think of...it’s....it’s on the tip of my tongue...

oh, i know!

a jalapeno pepper.

rating: 4206969/10. they just wanna hug.

gold ghost

this is probably the only other ghost with the word “gold” in its name that doesn’t reward you with money after you catch him. oh well.

i mean, they probably earned that name because there’s so many of them. and they all look the same....

huh.

so either so many people died and came back in this form, or ghosts are capable of reproducing with each other.

i’m just gonna let that mental image soak into your brain for a bit.

...

all set? no? oh, well. moving on.

rating: 8/10. a good bean.

temper terror

speedy spirit

like the other common ghosts, goldie here has an elemental counterpart of his own. i don’t have much to say, really.

rating: 5/10. not great, not terrible.

another reskin? alright, let’s see....

[✓]  he’s blue

[✓]  he’s fast

[✓]  he’s not a hedgehog

rating: too fast for me to handle

mice

they’re kinda like the bats in that they are ghosts of small animals and they’re everywhere. they’re like one of the only ghosts in the game that actively try to avoid you, tho, so that’s a neat opposition from the bats.

rating: 7/10. not the greatest things ever, but still cute.

gold mouse

like their flying counterparts. there are gold mice that can be found in some places. unlike their flying counterparts, these fuckers actually give you a shitton of money if you manage to catch one.

checkmate, batfucks.

rating: 10/10. i’m giving it such a high rating just so that bats can feel ashamed.

mr. bones

yes. there is actually an enemy in this game named mr. bones. this was before skeletons became a meme, mind you.

does that mean that nintendo is behind the skeletons? is nintendo run by skeletons?????? bones??????? jingle jangle xylophone bone marrow skeleton mandible clavicle tibia phalanges bones bones skeleton marrow bones calcium bones bon

jokes aside, the idea of a ghost skeleton is fucking awesome.

rating: 💀/10.

purple bomber

it’s literally a purple ceiling surprise, but instead of just giving you a simple spook, they straight-up throw a lit cartoon ghost bomb at you. like, the other ghosts don’t really want to kill you, but this brutal motherfucker produces a lethal weapon to lob at you. like, dude. you do realize that throwing bombs around like that could cause damage to your home, right?

or maybe he doesn’t care. i mean, fuck, look at that maniacal face. he’s a ghost. he doesn’t care about the safety of others. i wish i could be that careless.

rating: 10/10. he’s purple. he’s a ghost. and he’s a goofball. those are 3 of my favorite things.

purple puncher

these guys were always my favorite. idk why. they’re one of the more common ghosts, like the gold ghost. i wish i could pinpoint the exact reason why i was always drawn to this pink fuck (yeah, you’re not fooling anyone, buddy), but then again, if i had an exact reason i probably wouldn’t love him as much.

rating: 10/10. what a guy.

flash

aren’t all these ghosts flashers? i mean, they’re all naked.

this is another one of those “elemental ghosts”. this is where that fuckin flamethrower comes in handy. you literally burn this icy fucker alive.

rating: 9/10. look, he’s still a purple puncher. i’m always gonna love him, reskinned or not.

shy guy

the only other common enemy that’s an existing mario minion. sorta.

they’re dead shy guys.

the only way you can get them is by taking their masks off and then sucking them up with the vacuum while they’re caught off-guard. no, you don’t get to see their faces. 

rating: 11/10. cuties.

spark

they’re ghostly tonsil stones.

that’s-

that’s the only thing i can think of when i see them.

rating: 90/10. they’re too cute to be 10/10, but not medically-accurate enough to be 100/10.

finally, we’re done...

...with the common ghosts. meaning that there’s the bosses and their minions to cover.

oh fuck.

the ghosts that were living their normal lives until luigi decided to place into inescapable voids where they can never pass on into the afterlife, and the subordinates that work for them

neville

see this guy? all neville wanted to do is read his damn book. and then luigi comes along with his discriminatory mindset and ruined neville’s fuckin afterlife.

the dude was just reading a fuckin book. is that a crime?

rating: 10/10. he’s innocent, i swear.

lydia

neville’s missus. she looks kinda young. maybe after her husband died she committed suicide? that’s pretty fuckin grim to think about.

and yet luigi still barges into her room and takes her away from doing her makeup - the one thing that keeps her mind off the tragedies that happened so long ago.

rating: 10/10. she might be dead but she knows how to dress.

chauncey

i-...

how is anyone gonna talk about this.

he’s the ghost of a baby. there’s no other way of looking at it.

you could say that neville and lydia had sweet sweet ghost sex, but then you would have to be reminded that literally every ghost (aside from mr. bones) in this game lacks legs.

chauncey was an infant when he died. holy fuck.

and theN LUIGI HAS TO COME IN AND FUCK UP THIS BABY’S DAY. ALL CHAUNCEY WANTED TO DO IS PLAY WITH SOMEONE AND LUIGI STRAIGHT-UP ABUSED HIM. WHAT AN ASSHOLE.

rating: 10/10. i’m shocked i didn’t make any dead baby jokes.

the floating whirlindas

the spirits of a couple that loved each other so much that they couldn’t even be separated after death, forever dancing together in the mansion’s ballroom.

AND GUESS WHO FUCKING COMES IN AND DECIMATES WHAT LITTLE SANCTUM THEY HAD? THAT MOTHERFUCKING FARTGARGLER LUIGI.

rating: 10/10.

shivers

one of the mansion’s oldest inhabitants (he died in his 70s), shivers is a timid butler who roams the decrepit hallways, carrying an unlit candle in one hand, in search of the will his master left for him decades upon decades ago.

he has a strong fear of fire, which is why his candle is always unlit.

and so what does that cum-munching gargoyle luigi do? he uses his fucking flamethrower on the candle and makes shivers shit himself. and to add insult to injury the poor butler gets captured. christ, luigi. you’re even worse then fucking bowser.

rating: 11/10. he gets one extra point point because he’s had it rough. that, and he was never able to confess his feelings for his longtime crush,

melody pianissima.

yeah. shivers had a thing for this dead pianist.

i really don’t know what to say about her other than that she’s a total hottie

rating: 10/10

mr. luggs

FUCK what a large fella. he’s so humongous. and he gets to eat food forever??? fuck i want that kinda life.

rating: 10/10. tubby ha ha

waiter

AND mr. luggs has cute little ghost servants that bring him food????

he’s living the life. goddamn.

rating: 100/10. they’re just. really cute.

spooky

a literal ghost dog. named spooky. holy shit.

but if that doesn’t get your attention, you’ll be happy to know that the way luigi catches this cutie is by waking up a mr. bones ghost. because the dog really loves bones.

get it?

dogs? bones? skeletons?

whatever. i wish i was funny.

rating: 10/10.

BOGMIRE

BOGMIRE  BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BOGMIRE BO

rating: BOGMIRE/10.

black bogmire

as if The Best Ghost in The Entire Game Hands Down You Can’t Tell Me Otherwise wasn’t amazing enough, he spawns these translucent shadowy versions of himself during his boss fight, with sizes ranging from smol beans to big fellas.

basically, a big goopy friend has more goopy friends.

rating: BOGMIRE/10.

biff atlas

the resident buffguy in the mansion. did he die from roid rage? idk.

i don’t know enough about being healthy to make any jokes.

rating: 8/10. somebody’s probably jerked off to this guy.

miss petunia

all i’m gonna say about her is that luigi literally kidnaps her while she’s taking a shower.

this fucking green-capped madman must be stopped.

rating: 10/10.  she’s trying her best.

nana

i’m surprised it took this long to get an elderly ghost. like, a hella old ghost. older than 70 or 80 years old.

all she does is knit, but even little old ladies aren’t safe from that cold-blooded italian psychopath.

rating: 1776/10. get it? i’m saying she’s as old as the usa??? aren’t i funny??? ha ha ha????

slim bankshot

he’s a poolshark. that’s his gimmick.

rating: 6/20. the pool balls aren’t actually eyeballs or have teeth or anything cool like that.

henry and orville

the only other kid ghosts in this game. i mean, they’re not as young as chauncey, but the idea that both of these twins died at the same time is pretty fuckin terrifying.

naturally, they also wanted to play with luigi, guess where that got them.

rating: 9/10. naming them after the wright brothers gives me some mental images i’m not going to share.

madame clairvoya

the only ghost in the game that helps luigi find his missing brother. and since she knows that luigi is a merciless monster she lets him capture her without a fight.

rating: 40/10. she’s kinda hot, okay?

boolossus

literally a giant boo made up of smaller boos.

if you haven’t played the game, basically luigi frees a shitton of boos along with their king. no, boolossus is not the king. you dunce.

rating: 10000/10. i love boos

uncle grimmly

according to his official description, uncle grimmly apparently tends to keep to himself. everything about this guy reeks of malice. i mean, sure, some of the other spirits had spooky-sounding names, but if your actual last name is “grimmly” you’re probably a mortician who steals bodies from the morgue for your bizarre science experiments and sexual acts.

alright. i’m gonna say it right here and now:

i think grimmly killed his family and also caused the deaths of people who moved into the mansion afterwards.

or maybe i’m reading too hard into a video game for children.

rating: 100000000/10. pure evil.

clockwork soldiers

yeah, i know. i’m also surprised that it took this long for bosses based on toys.

although i don’t know how these toys became ghosts. the game doesn’t have anything to say about it, either, so...

then, again, this is the same game where a skeleton can become a ghost. i guess anything goes in the underworld.

rating: 10/10. at least they didn’t go for the “haunted doll” cliche.

sue pea

this is.

well.

i’m gonna let the official description speak for this one:

“What was meant to be a short nap seems to have turned into eternal rest for sweet Sue Pea.”

this seven-year-old lil bitch died in her sleep.

the fact that we’re not given any more information makes it even more unsettling to think about. did she have an illness? did someone make her huff poisonous gas?

like. shit dude. god DAMN.

rating: hardcore/10. nintendo seemed to have something against children back in 2001.

jarvis

ha ha. get it? JARvis?

he’s a ghost that has an antique jar fetish and he likes to hide inside his antique jars.

jarvis is not even an important ghost. he’s literally optional. the only reason luigi can go after him is because he gets rewarded with diamonds and cash when the ghost is captured.

luigi is a greedy cunt.

rating: 10/10. bad jokes aside, i think jarvis’s design is cute.

sir weston

he likes to haunt the cold storage room. i don’t know if that implies he died in there or what.

i mean, he’s clearly dressed for the cold, so i don’t think that’s what killed him. maybe he lived in the mansion and died during a mountain expedition? maybe his ghost found its way back home? fuck idk.

maybe uncle grimmly pushed him into the freezer and threw warm clothes in there to let him live a bit longer as well as throw the police off when they find the body.

rating: 10/10. the fact that he’s sir weston implies there’s more to this guy than we should really know.

vincent van gore

alright. that’s just as horrifying of a name as uncle grimmly.

his boss fight is actually kinda neat because he paints ghosts on his canvases and the ghosts come to life through supernatural means. maybe he’s opening portals to the ghost world to let the lesser spirits like the gold and purple fuckers out?

according to his official description, van gore could never sell a painting during his lifetime and the only reason he’s a ghost is because he’s persistent on not letting his art die along with him. talk about determination.

rating: 10/10. i feel like he’s in cahoots with grimmly. somehow.

king boo and “””bowser”””

the final boss of the game is literally king boo in a bowser costume. or maybe it’s a robotic bowser suit? idk.

the fight is a pain in the ass if you don’t know what you’re doing.

rating: 10000/10. look, it probably takes a LOT of work to make that fake bowser move so realistically. cut the ghoul some slack.

conclusion - what we learned:

luigi is an insane individual whose discriminatory beliefs caused him to take away the freedom that these spirits finally got after years of being confined in paintings.

uncle grimmly is the mastermind behind a cult operation of mass-killing anyone who steps foot in his mansion, even after his own passing.

the ghost bats are pieces of shit.

after about 4 hours of writing, this whole mess is done. you just wasted a few minutes of your life reading something trivial and irrelevant to anything else in your life.

be sure to come back in the next few days because i’m going to do the exact same thing with the second game.

[trojanjean]

Rules

List the first lines of your last 20 stories (or however many you have altogether). See if there are any patterns. Then, tag your favourite authors.

Tagging: @meimagino @kirinvlinder @definitelynotadulting @happydraco  and oh shoot i can’t remember which one of you have written fics but!! please do this and tag me i love this sooo much! i’d really love to see all your fics and find something new to read! <333 

1. slow, love slow

“Viktor, Viktor”, he panted. Every part of him, to his fingertips and down to the last cell was tight as a bow-string. He was ready to snap, to crumble into million little pieces.

2. i’ll be there, rain or shine 

Otabek gave a satisfying, long yawn as he made his way towards the building. It was colder than he’d prepared for - a January in Moscow, what had he expected, really? - but he’d compensated his too-thin clothes with running just a little bit faster.

3. all my electricity will make it across your sea

Lately, Viktor has become somewhat subdued in Yuuri’s presence. Yuuri thought it was just nerves, the pressing weight of all the competitiveness around them added with a tight schedule and a lot of travelling. 

4. fingers crossed my obsession with you is tameable

<Altin.O> I’ll see you. Boarding soon. You’re probably already there?

<yuri> yes, here already

<yuri> hurry, i don't want to talk to these people any more than i have to

<altin.o> I can’t rush the plane, Yuri. I would if I could. :)  

5. feeling all this for you

<yuri>  tried on my competition outfit today and it looks fairly ridiculous

<Altin.O> I don't believe you.  I bet you looked hot.

6. and goddamn the love that they share between them

Harry stretched his sore and stiff limbs and waited for the pot of water to boil. He tried to remember the instructions he’d gotten concerning this important task. 

7. you give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh

Their relationship was going amazingly well. They were past that awkward phase where they didn’t know what was appropriate and what was not, hands hovering without touching. 

8. i whisper with my lips close to your ear 

There were a lot of things Viktoria Nikiforova loved about her wife. Her exotic looks. Her soothing voice. The way she made coffee (not well) and the way her nose scrunched up when she laughed at Vik’s cheesy jokes. But her favourite thing was - without a doubt - the way she anchored Vik. She managed to give Vik a sense of purpose when she couldn’t find one herself. She was grounding just by being there , sharing her life with Vik. a lil more than a line sorry

9. i dream, i dream, i dream 

Yuuri loved sleeping with Viktor.

No, not like that.

Well, yes, that too - but right now he was talking about actual sleeping.

 B O N U S 

a few non-published fics i’m going to finish soon-ish (hopefully): 

let’s keep this simple and sweet: (a sequel to rain or shine, i’ll be there. pining otayuri, mostly.) 

The door made a soft squeal as Otabek slipped into the hallway. It was pitch dark and he had to tiptoe carefully if he didn't want his toes smashed - the amount of stuff Yuri left lying around his place was insane. 

5 times yuuri kissed vik for no reason, and one time she had a really good one (or smth) fem viktuuri. skating girlfriends and thirsty vik.

They were dating.

It was official.  

Well,  official to them.  Not to anyone else,  yet.  But that was only a matter of time.

otabek is a yoga instructor and things get dirty AU

Yuri had a problem.

A boy problem.  

It was ridiculous.