#sobs my eyes out tbh.

[shinigamichan]

fubugami… (i explode)

[deus-ex-mona]

i miss her…

[katierosefun]

oh there's something particularly painful about my mister in that dong hoon tells ji an that as long as no one knows, it's no big deal, and there's something particularly painful about how ji an tells dong hoon that sometimes, i want [my secret] to play out on big screens for everyone to see, and there's something particularly painful about how the second dong hoon meets the loan shark tormenting ji an, he starts screaming and yelling about how she's just a kid, how could you do that to a kid, and there's something particularly painful about how dong hoon doesn't even let ji an know he did that, but ji an knows. she knows because she was listening in the entire time and she just starts crying because someone actually knows this ugly, sad part of her and still took her side, and something particularly painful about how my mister started with as long as no one knows, it's no big deal but really concludes with there is so much risk in having someone know who you are but there's also so much comfort and peace to be found in that, too and maybe you shouldn't isolate yourself and maybe you should reach for that kind of comfort in being known and loved anyways

[heartsburst]

WHY MUST I ALWAYS GET INTO THE SADDEST FUCKING SHIPS WHY DO I KEEP DOING THIS TO MYSELF

[ofcowardiceandkings]

the sinus headaches are already not great but Extra Shit has been added to the pile and im just sat on that right now trying to figure out what the fuck to do

[morororinnnn]

wait

ok so

..

cat therian???

or a fox therian idk i have cat traits and dog traits?

i ramble in the tags

[insertsickusername13]

Richjake week day four babyyyy

prompt: fire

word count: 2.1k

Summary: Rich struggles to light a candle for a romantic dinner with Jake.

--

Rich was pretty sure he was going to light the candle wick on fire with just his gaze. 

He’d been there for ten minutes already, the match in his hand unreasonably heavy and the matchbox even more so. It was just a candle. A small, cheap candle he’d bought for $1.39 at a Walgreens down the street. He was going to light it on fire. He was not going to freak out. Jake was going to think it was romantic. 

Everything else was already set up: the usually bare kitchen table they’d snatched from a curb a couple of miles away had been replaced by a smaller, round, dark-wood table and a fancy white tablecloth (the table from a second-hand antique store downtown, the white table cloth from Brooke’s attic—he’d gotten it when Jake and him had returned to Jersey for the holidays. Three months ago.). 

There was a small vase with a single rose at the center. Plates and Jake’s parents’ fancy silverware that had miraculously survived the fire were already set out.

And there was a candle. 

Though it was smaller than almost everything else on the table it seemed to stand tall, looming over Rich with a cruel smirk on its nonexistent waxy lips. 

Rich inhaled a shaky breath. 

He could do this. It was just a candle. There was nothing destructive about a candle. Rich wouldn’t knock it over and catch the tablecloth on fire, then the kitchen, then their entire apartment. Jake wouldn’t come home to ashes instead of his boyfriend and a romantic dinner. Candles were normal. Candles were fine. Rich could light a candle. 

But he could hear the SQUIP’s voice in his head. It’d been disjointed on Halloween, robotic and borderline meaningless. If anyone else had been listening—Jake, Jeremy, Michael—they would’ve heard pure nonsense. The ramblings of a lunatic. 

Rich had understood every word. He didn’t need to hear its voice to feel his entire body being shot with electricity repeatedly. He’d barely been conscious of his own hands as they poured gasoline all over Jake’s bed and in his closet. Fire, fire, fire, fire. He’d done it trembling, half unconscious and half possessed. He could do it now if he wanted. He didn’t. But he could. He just had to…

Rich dropped the match. Dropped the matchbox. He fell to his knees, his body shaking uncontrollably just like it had when it was still in his head, when it’d told him Rich deserved hell manifested on Earth, when it'd forced him to destroy everything he'd ever loved.

He wanted to cover his face, to hide his shame and the tears he knew were boiling over out of his eyes, but he could’ve sworn he saw the residue of gasoline on his fingertips. He couldn’t bear the thought of contaminating the rest of himself with such a destructive, infectious substance. He held his hands out as far as he could, the terror of what he’d done choking him, the weight of it so heavy he thought he could see the floor opening up, swallowing him and everything he’d done since to try and undo what he’d done, to erase—

“Rich?”

And suddenly keeping himself pure meant nothing. He pressed his hands against his abdomen, hiding them in his shirt. Just as long as Jake didn’t see, as long as he didn’t get ruined, then Rich would be okay.

Rich hadn’t realized how bad it’d gotten until he tried to respond to Jake and the words burned so bad he couldn’t get them past his throat. He opened his mouth helplessly, every apology he could muster trapped between his teeth, and looked up at Jake for… for something. For help. For comfort. For damnation and guilt-tripping and everything he probably deserved.

Jake dropped his bag and, using his cane for support, knelt in front of Rich. 

“Baby? Hey,” as if he somehow knew of every self-destructive thought that had run through Rich’s head since he’d first bought that candle from goddamn Walgreens, he grabbed both of Rich’s hands and carefully unclenched them, his touch softer than anything Rich had never known. “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? It’d been so long since Junior year that being on the floor crying didn’t always mean the fire anymore. Sometimes it was missing his dad. Sometimes it was fear of graduation. Sometimes it had nothing to do with the SQUIP and everything that had happened because of it. 

Rich choked out a sob as he pulled himself closer to Jake, desperate for the warmth he provided. He was a magnetic sun—technically Rich could look at him and see fire and destruction but all he saw were beaches and flowers and summertime. Thank the lord for that. 

“It’s okay,” Jake whispered. He didn’t know what was wrong, yet he said it with visceral confidence—it’s okay. Rich will be okay. Jake will be okay. He ran his hands through Rich’s hair and repeated the words again and again. At some point he tried to slip in other reassurances, things he’d heard from Rich’s therapist—five things you can see, you’re worthy, can you breathe?—but he was cut off by Rich’s murmuring against his shoulder. 

“I just wanted a candle,” he borderline sobbed out, snotty and muffled, “So I could give you dinner and it could be romantic and I’m sorry, I couldn’t do it.”

“Babe—” Jake lifted Rich off his shoulder, a small smile on his face, “—we don’t need a candle for dinner.”

Of course, Jake would say that. Of course, he wouldn’t even notice, the goddamn angel. He wasn’t the one who got dragged to expensive restaurant after expensive restaurant for grand anniversaries and birthdays while struggling with the knowledge that he could never afford any of this on his own. That the paycheck he brought home every month was minuscule compared to even a small percentage of Jake’s fortune. Jake never had to wonder if he was a leech, sucking up spare bits of affection and funds where he could. He didn’t notice the candles and roses at every restaurant they went to. That was Rich’s job.

Rich squeezed his eyes shut against Jake’s open expression. Even faced with complete darkness, he heard Jake’s voice saying, “Deep breaths.”

Rich obliged. One breath in, one breath out, slow and steady, until he could look at it like Jake was: Just a candle. 

“I’m still thoroughly romanced, y’know,” Jake whispered. He cupped Rich’s jaw and ran his thumb over his eyelashes, “I've got those stupid butterflies and all.”

Rich scoffed, the cruise Jake had taken him on for his twenty-first birthday still playing in his mind. The concert they’d gone to for his twenty-second. Objectively, he knew this was enough. He was enough. He’d been to countless therapists and fought endless battles to get to the point where he knew Jake didn't need more than this, that money didn’t matter, that Jake loved him for things like this, but that doubt—bitter, poisonous, ruinous—hovered, waiting for its moment to sink its teeth into Rich’s skin. 

“Yeah,” Rich replied, and it was more to himself than it was to Jake—a vocalization of his own self-deprecating thoughts, not meant for anyone else to hear, “Romanced enough to marry me?”

He didn’t realize what he’d said until he felt Jake’s hand go slack on his face. Fuck. Fuck, no, he had a fucking speech. He wasn’t supposed to say that—

Rich looked up, eyes wide, everything else blurred and forgotten—fuck candles and fuck money and fuck the dinner he planned, he’d just accidentally fucking proposed. All he saw was Jake’s expression, all he felt was lightning in his chest and stomach. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

“Hm?” Jake squeaked. He looked about as shell-shocked as Rich, if not more so.

Rich had two choices: chicken out or own up to it. The fact Jake’s panicked expression—comically wide eyes, lips pressed together to stop himself from breaking out into a smile, cheeks bordering between pink and red—was so beautiful Rich was pretty sure he wanted to kiss it until he died was an answer in and of itself. 

He fumbled for the ring in his pocket only vaguely aware of Jake’s jaw dropping as he pulled it out. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt, erasing the remnants of his breakdown to the best of his ability. He had a boyfriend to propose to. A perfect, pretty, loving boyfriend, and he was not going to let that be tainted by his own lingering insecurities. 

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. Jake looked like he was going to pass out. “Okay, I was supposed to do this later, but you’re—shit, I’m supposed to be on one knee.”

Still shaking, Rich struggled to untangle himself from Jake’s limp grasp enough to prop himself up on one knee. 

“Okay, starting over, I wanted—I was gonna do this while we were eating dessert, I thought you might be more likely to say yes if I was feeding you ca—”

“Yes,” Jake blurted, “Yes. The answer’s yes. Right now.”

Rich blinked. 

“I’m uh, I haven’t even talked about how much I love you yet.”

“I don’t care. Yes. I want to be engaged to you as soon as possible. Get fucking—” he scrambled over to Rich, glowing like a buttercup or sunflower. Rich was so enchanted by the sight he couldn’t find it in himself to protest as Jake shakily took the ring ($3,471—Rich spent eight months saving up) from the box and held it out to Rich. 

“Put it on me,” he said, “Put it on, I—”

Rich took the ring and slipped it on Jake’s finger. He got the privilege of watching the stars and sky light up as Jake broke out into a golden grin. Pretty, he thought, pretty, pretty, pretty—

Jake launched himself at Rich, knocking them both flat onto the floor, his arms finding their way around Rich’s waist with starved desperation and his lips colliding with whatever skin he had access to: first Rich’s neck, then his cheek, then his lips, over and over until Jake was crying so hard he had to stop just to get the chance to breathe. 

“You proposed to me,” he giggled, “You fucking proposed, you… oh my god.”

Rich threw his head back laughing. He couldn’t say it, couldn’t vocalize it like Jake was trying to do, but everything felt coated in unbridled elation. Jake wanted to marry him. Jake said yes. He was getting married to his best friend and they were going to spend the rest of their lives together.

“I do,” Jake said, propping himself up on his elbows so he could look down at Rich, “I do. Can we get married right now?”

“I think we should eat dinner first, sweetheart, I spent all day cooking.”

Jake perked up.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I made those scallops the way you like ‘em and pasta.”

Jake’s eyes lit up. Like a kid in a candy store (except that candy store only sold expensive seafood), Jake climbed off Rich and sat at the table. 

“I am so fucking glad I’m marrying you,” he said, already laying his napkin out on his lap. 

Rich flushed as he got to his feet, planning to grab their plates from the kitchen to show Jake the fruits of his labor, but was stopped by his foot colliding with—

With a matchbox. A small, unassuming matchbox that singlehandedly had the power to tear Rich apart limb by limb. 

Nothing could dim the giddiness he’d felt since Jake said yes. With unfounded confidence, he picked up what would usually be made of flames and fear and opened it, carefully taking a match into his hand. 

He could do this. He could light a candle for a romantic dinner with his boyf—fiancé.

He struck the match. 

Jake blew it out. 

Rich stared at the charred wood for a second, uncomprehending, before looking up at Jake. He almost wanted to scream. He couldn’t do that again. Once was enough, there was no way he’d be able to make more fire. 

“There’s no point,” Jake said.

“I want—”

“I broke it.”

Rich blinked at him.

“What?”

“I broke the candle.”

“How do you break a candle—”

Jake glanced nervously under the table. Despite Rich's disblief, there the candle was. Broken.

 It’d been mushed down into a mound of wax, the wick bent and covered in so much wax there was no way it’d light even if Rich wanted it to. Rich felt like he’d just been pulled from the brink of insanity by an angel. 

“I don’t need a candle,” Jake said, flashing Rich a crooked, nervous grin.

“Oh.”

A pause. It was a hurricane of a moment, the silence complete and violent despite the exultation that had drowned the room a moment earlier. 

Then, voice quiet with shame, Rich said, “I… I fucking hate candles.”

Jake reached out and squeezed his hand. 

“Not you, though,” Rich continued, squeezing Jake’s hand back, “I don’t hate you. I actually really fucking love you.”

[mutalune]

hey siri how do I stop feeling gutwrenchingly anxious in the guilt way for using the treatment methods available to me to not be in constant misery

[sergeantwoods]

me and my friend went to hersheypark today and we went on so many roller coasters omfg. fun fact about sarge for you guys. this is my first time going to an amusement park.

zawg its so fun bro 😭😭 where have i been my whole life ,?!

there were geese walking around too lmfao

[townslore]

i dont know why but one of my favourite lines from goro are “lets make a deal, okay? you wont say no, will you?”

i dont know it just. it sounds kind of.. intimate to me? like, this is kind of the only deal akira makes with goro.. at the end of his confidant. every other confidant starts with a deal; something akira has to fullfil for the other person, getting something in return. after that, their bond is strong, but.. they have no reason to meet up anymore, basically, at least on the surface level.

it was never like that with goro. they just hung out for the sake of it. akira listened to him because he wanted to, not because goro asked him to as part of a deal. and the part that sounds intimate is just.. well, the “okay?” sounds very soft, but then theres the “you wont say no, will you?”

its all so. familiar. goro knows akira will do this for him.

goro knows akira.

[catacropolis]

Don’t mind me having a whole breakdown and a half loosing my mind over this

[elegyofthemoon]

thwacks tumblr stop eating my tags and tell me when i hit 30 max >:I

[sunbratz]

im still glad i did it with you, b.

bondi til i die. -b.

[piplupod]

(can i please get a waffle voice): can i PLEASE having a coping mechanism that doesnt turn maladaptive. can i PLEAAASE have just one !!! i am Begging you, on my hands and knees !!!!! AUGH

[godnectar]

venting,, ig? just bs on tags,, gonna regret it in a few

[nazuna-tunnel-vision]

rest assured, even if i didnt liveblog it here, i spent about 45 mins freaking out about knights event