#sorry for the angst guys

[butwhyduh]

Not Her

Remy Lebeau x reader

Summary: sometimes getting what you want isn’t as nice as you thought.

Note: the other main characters don’t know the readers thoughts and there were no malicious intentions.

His fingers on your jaw were rough as was his tongue sliding into your mouth. Remy tasted like whiskey and smoke. He had been drinking and wistful. There was a desperation that was contagious and you clawed your fingers into his shirt to get closer.

This was the only way you were together and you fully intended on making the most out of the moments. You pressed your body painfully tight against his. His other hand kneaded your ass as if you two wished to truly blend together. You wanted more. You wanted him inside you. You wanted inside him in a way that not even sex could give.

Remy pushed his head back a bit and pulled in a harsh breath.

“The bed,” he breathed. You nipped at his jaw and he groaned. “Or the couch, chère.” Your hands pulled at his belt roughly. You slid your hand in his pants before cupping his hardening cock.

“Take these off. Fuck me on the wall, the floor. I don’t give a fuck,” you rasped.

“Mais yeah,” he said with a grin before cupping your face with both hands and kissing you soundly. He popped his belt open and you roughly yanked his pants and underwear down his thighs. He grabbed at your dress and pushed it up over your hips before turning you.

His hands suddenly pressed you over the back of the couch. You felt deft fingers pushing your underwear to the side and you gasped as he pushed in. It was fast and hard. Remy’s hands roamed your body. He yanked the top of your dress down and grasped both breasts as he pounded into you.

“Fuck,” you yelped as he harshly pulled at your nipples. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I can’t get enough of this,” Remy groaned in your ear. “You’re fucking intoxicating, amour.”

You felt him pull you up to press against his chest. “More,” you breathed.

Remy pulled out and turned you and pressed you against the wall front to front. You stared into his eyes, deep pools of red. His hands roamed over your body as he kissed you desperately, almost too excited to even fuck back into you. You wrapped a leg around his waist and pressed him back in.

He threw his head back with a groan before setting a slow but deep and rough pace. He held your jaw once again while fucking his tongue in your mouth. Your fingers pressed into his back. He could handle it. You felt a weave of scars beneath your fingers.

He grabbed your hip and changed the angle. You moaned as it caused him to rub against your clit with each thrust.

You bit his lip as he pulled back for a breath. You wanted more. You wanted him in your mouth, in your skin. You wanted him in ways that were illogical and unholy. You kissed down his throat before nipping at the skin of his collarbone.

“A little more,” you whined while your legs trembled.

“Ma yes,” he replied. He muttered something you couldn’t quite understand before finishing with “on me.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and clung to him as you reached your peak. You whimpered his name and he nodded harshly as he fucked you through it. Remy moved to pull out but you wrapped a leg tightly around him.

“Cum inside. Please,” you added desperately. You needed this. You couldn’t explain it. He let out a little gasp as his resolve fell and he came. His hips moved erratically. You rocked together in the afterglow of little bursts of pleasure. After a minute he let go of your leg. You both breathed heavily.

If you looked half the mess he did, you were thoroughly debauched. His hair was pulled wild and his shirt was pulled up and pants only pushed down his thighs. You could feel you were with your dress pulled off your shoulders, tits out, and panties pulled to ruin.

He let out an awkward laugh before trying to fix your dress a little. You grinned at him tiredly before dropping the skirt of the dress down.

“Sorry about the dress,” he said quietly. “Not everyday Remy gets to try that.”

“It’s fine,” you said, trying to pull it over your shoulders. You had to walk to your car like this and hopefully no one would see you. You looked for your purse you had tossed away long ago.

You slowly grabbed your stuff, hopeful that he would stop you. Hoping he would say ‘wait stay.’ But he was moving towards his shower. He was a one woman man and if he couldn’t have her, you weren’t a substitute. You were a distraction. You grabbed your keys and left without a word. Tears stung your eyes and a bitter taste filled your mouth. He didn’t know. He didn’t need to know.

[gerardway-is-my-babygirl]

Renfield Anniversary Week, day 3: Favourite Scene

I struggled a bit with deciding what to do for this prompt, since I love the glowup montage so much and what It represents, but I also have so many thoughts and feelings about the apartment scene and the gym scene.

Heres a little drabble about the last 2, since I can't pick between them.

Renfield had walked out of the apartment -- his apartment -- that morning with a new purpose, a new reason to live. He had repainted and redecorated It, repairing and undoing the damage done to himself In the process, finally freeing himself from the filth and darkness that Dracula had buried him In, finally living again. The bright walls and ugly furniture are the complete opposite of what Dracula likes, and so Renfield likes them. His apartment defies everything Dracula Is and opposes everything he had tried to surround Renfield with, a sensory overload to the vampire, while a home to Renfield. He finally had a home.

Then he walked back Into his apartment that evening with everything he had worked for ripped away from him In an Instant. His hopes and dreams, his purpose, his life, they were all torn to shreds right In front of him by the same creature who had done the same all those decades ago, back when he was In the asylum. The world around him was drained of colour, tarnished by the vampire Invading the only space he finally felt happy, destroying everything Renfield had put together with his own hands. He should have known better, he should have known not to bother trying to live again, but the Idea of It sounded so wonderful that he couldn't resist the apple handed to him, never considering the consequences and only savouring the taste.

That taste of freedom was the best thing he had felt In decades, and It had rotted In his mouth the second he saw the monster In his home. He had tried so hard to defuse the situation and calm Dracula, but he was only burned when he got too close, berated for his acts of heroism, punished for his betrayal and disobedience, mocked for his weakness to Dracula's temptation. The blame was thrown onto him as always, draining every ounce of confidence he had built up over the past day In an attempt to stand up to the vampire, leaving him weak and silent. He tried so hard to follow the advice Mark gave him, tried to fight back, tried to look to the book for guidance, but In the end he was shoved Into the corner once more and forced to cower before his God.

The apartment Isn't his anymore. It's crowded with cruel laughter and yelling that fills the air. The shadows hide the monster who he had tried to escape. Every single area Dracula touched Is ruined, forever marked with Invisible bootprints that force him back Into the corner. The Imaginary stains can't be scrubbed away, no matter how many times Renfield will try to claw at the rug with as many cleaning sprays as he can find. His life Is always going to be haunted by Dracula. His home Is Dracula's now, everything Is.

He raced to the gym to try and save the others from his destruction, to somehow protect them from being ripped from their lives by a monster who was never supposed to be there In the first place. None of them listened. None of them let him save them. Did he even try to save them at all?

He begged for Dracula to spare them, but all he did was watch when the Inevitable happened. He watched.

They all fell Into Dracula's trap, unable to move or run further than a few feet as Renfield was tossed to the side like a broken toy. At that moment he knew he was no longer necessary, and how nothing he can do will stop the vampire from Inflicting pain on anyone Renfield tries to seek help from. Dracula can't let him have anything but him, knowing that even when he destroys whatever Renfield tried to put his effort Into, that he'll still come crawling back to him.

Dracula's display of power and his unnecessary slaughtering of everyone Is nothing but a game to him, amusing him temporarily In his Immortal life as he mercilessly rips at the people Renfield finally opened up to. He thought he was a hero, but he's a monster just like Dracula, a part of his twisted game, fighting on his side no matter what he does. He can't look away from the destruction, with everyone screaming as claws and fangs tear them to bloody pieces, but he couldn't prevent It even If he tried.

He couldn't prevent Mark from bleeding out, staining his useless hands with his blood but doing nothing to stop It. He was made to destroy lives, not save them.

Mark stared Into his eyes In his final agonising moments of life, and Renfield could see his realisation that he was a murderer. It doesn't matter how hard he tries to be a hero, he can't stop killing people. It's In his nature.

He started that day truly believing that he would never spill a drop of blood again, but ended It with his hands stained red.

Even his jumper, the thing that he had worn with pride as he began to rediscover himself, was ruined. Dracula had complimented It when he entered the apartment, praising Renfield for his pathetic attempt at defying him. He had even touched It, marking the fabric with bloody hands and destroying the last shred of hope Renfield had left as Mark died In his arms.

The jumper was supposed to be a fresh start, a chance for him to redeem himself and live again, to be a person and be free. He's literally letting colour and light back Into his life again after being trapped In the darkness for so long and Dracula Is just dragging him down Into the shadows again. Whatever Renfield does, he always ends up back In the darkness, caged In by Dracula's claws and held on an Invisible leash by his rare moments of kindness.

Everything Is ruined.

[koumori-1999]

silly continuity crossover doodle because i'm not immune to the multiverse trend

he's still emo about his own ratchet, don't judge him.

[egophiliac]

What do you like about the Diasomnia boys if I may ask?

I always love hearing about the different reasons people enjoy characters.

I mean, c'mon. he has split custody over Sebek okay

also, Lilia in particular has maybe the best timeskip character development of all time

[cryptidmickle]

so what if. and hear me out. i made my own au for shadowvanilla purposes-

au details below

HELLO SO I PRESENT AMNESIAC AU

so you see, i was minding my business, drawing and looking at cookies and how everyone has their own cool aus with awesome designs and i went "well im not very good at designing but i Love putting characters in Situations"

this au is mostly focused on shadowvanilla so dont be too hopeful I'll get into the other cookies besides their little circle, im ill for gay yaoi only okay

So! motions to comic above, amnesia smilk time! let me elaborate

Pure vanilla fucked up BIG TIME, in that he maybe ventured out to beast yeast alone to try and find out more about the beasts and a way to stop them, as people with a savior complex have a habit of doing. Maybe, perhaps, also at the same time, smilk was getting the workings of his new dough body done and sensing pv was nearby decided to take the opportunity to torment him a little, yknow he cant help himself! he needs to see him

a nasty little fight and confrontation in some old structures of smilk (or at the spire) result in pv using a strange spell he spotted in the surrounding papers and documents, and .... accidentally cracks smilk's soul jam! hehe, oops!

and also sealing his memories. double oops. damn, what are you gonna do now pv?

well he cant leave confused smilk alone here, and itd honestly be best the other beasts and dark enchantress dont drag him back there in this state, so he offers a hand.

"Come with me. We can help you, I'll make sure you're okay."

a memory-less smilk is confused by this but... he's already grabbing the other cookie's hand before he realizes it. It'll probably be fine, something about this cookie... makes something in him feel okay.

taps forehead, im still working everything out of course, and i WILL be cursing all of you with sketchy stuff about it when I'm able, i need more time to figure out smilk's behaviors without the soul jam and corruption

of course I'm always of the mind that pre-corruption smilk was kind of a rat and rude but how exactly is the real question!! how bad was it before the corruption exacerbated the negative qualities of knowledge and his personality

anyways,,, feel free to ask questions!! it could help me figure this all out, if yall are interested of course,,,,,,,my,,,, handful of crk followers SNRRKS

[anintrovertedechoe]

no thoughts just hugging mammon with everything you have and crying into the nape of his neck while he hugs you just as tight, just as hard, just as desperately, but also so gently because he’s afraid he’ll break you with how delicate you are right now.

no thoughts just slumping against him after crying out everything left in you and falling asleep while he still holds onto you and kisses the crown of your head because he knows you won’t notice.

no thoughts just his heart breaking because if he had his way he would take your pain onto himself in a heartbeat but he can’t and that’s what hurts the most.

no thoughts just mammon staying with you like that the whole night and checking your pulse occasionally and feeling relieved at it’s presence because it means you’re still here with him.

no thoughts just falling asleep with your first man and having him treat you like you’re the most precious thing in all of the three realms.

no thoughts; just mammon being your rock like he always is.

[riaki]

ur highschool bully gojo was chefs kiss 💋 what do u think about them going to the same college and taking the same classes?? and the reader sitting next/talking to some other guy and satoru gets jealous?? arwahhhshdhshshs so many possibilities, i hope u continue writing it!!

hi nonnie !! thank you so much :) this is ur official part 2 ! i was struggling to think up some possibilities but this helped a lot :oo | read part 1 here ! -> cw: swearing, jealousy, i let it get fic length oops

(former) highschoolbully!gojo on the brain again… like. when you end up seeing him again however many months later, and you can tell that he’s changed. it’s not like its immediately obvious to anyone who doesn’t really know him like you (used to); but he’s a little softer-spoken and his smiles seem nine times more genuine. it’s not a hundred percent; the kind that really lights up his face instead of just barely falling short of his stark blue eyes, but it's something.

of course, you have nothing to base it off of, because when you do inevitably see him again it's the very definition of meet ugly.

college is a new frontier, but its also a clean slate. its your first time going into something so new without your old bestfriend at your side, but some faint flickering thought reminds you that it might be better that way. but the universe is against you from the very first day, when youre gettin yourself some coffee from the same chain you did the morning of that fateful presentation so many moons ago. you're too busy thinking to yourself what kind of strange parting ritual it is to relive your trauma to notice the lanky, white-haired boy who hits his head on the chiming bell over the doorway. people are giggling around you n sighing dreamily but youre too deep in the music pumping through your headphones to notice and your eyes are glued to the class schedule on your phone, trying to ensure you dont get lost on the first day when—

you blink and your ass is flat on the dirty floor of the coffee shop, and the first thing you register is that your stomach is soaked and burning. you'd spilled your coffee. it takes you a moment to realize, but when you do you're pissed. so you quickly get to your feet, trying to reign in what little of your ego you have left to give the offender who bumped into you a piece of your mind as you look up, then..

how unlucky do you have to be?

just like that, satoru's slid himself back into your life, after ramming through its locked gates. you forget that he always forgets the point of keys, both when it comes to his apartment (which you still have the spare key of in case of emergencies), and the door to your heart. to rub salt in the wound, the only thing that's stained with your coffee order are his shoes, which look like they cost three weeks of your old job salary, but it's all over your shirt. of course it is. because why not? make it look like you tripped and fell into a patch of mud on your way to the lecture hall and tack on an unwelcome reunion with your ex-bestfriend.

to you, it's like the cloud of gloom from your highschool youth has resettled over your head like a swarm of gnats on a dreary, hot summer day. the stars always seem to skew and misalign themselves for you. but for satoru, the stars have handed him one of those huge swirly lollipops that you only ever see being paraded about by toddlers. he recovers almost instantly, trading the burn on his feet and the way it sours your expression like he's just squirted pure citric acid into your throat for a pleasant burn of his own on his cheeks. but it's whatever. girls seem to like it when he blushes, for some reason. he won't question it, if it works on the only one he cares about.

he holds his hand out, ready to help you out like the good samaritan he's become— and it's like a real burn to his heart this time when you ignore it and stand up on your own, refusing to look up and meet his pleading gaze. might as well have taken an iron stoker right out of the fire and jabbed him with it. but he's gojo satoru! he won't be defeated by this one mere, maybe very significant reunion. he's got stamina.

so he offers to buy you a new drink, feels his heart sink when you shake your head (can't even spare a little 'no' in his direction), and talks enough for the both of you when you leave the dingy little store make your way down to campus and the lecture building. you clearly don't want to see him, but he ignores that in exchange to notice the way you shiver every so often. the previously searing-hot coffee that stains your shirt turns cold fast, and moisture n wind don't mix well. he wishes he could offer you some of his own warm coffee, no doubt sickeningly sweet, but he has some sensitivity now, apparently. so, in a brash moment, he decides to take his blazer off and drape it over your shoulders instead.

when you cross the threshold between city and campus, you expect him to yank it off your back and be on his merry way. but he keeps walking next to you, so you walk a little faster, and you absolutely loathe the cheeky little grin that curves the corners of his lips up to show a glint of teeth when he effortlessly keeps up. you curse his long legs when you find yourself winded, but at least you can lose him when you get there.

or, that's what you think. once again, your constellations break themselves to rebuild anew for satoru. you're about to call him a stalker when he follows you all the way to your classroom with that smirk that's growing exponentially until— oh, no.

your phone that's been on the schedule up until now desperately scrolls to the roster— and there it is. he's in your class. needless to say, not another word goes between you as you stomp in and take a seat. luckily for you, you've already corresponded with your roommate's brother (who's annoyingly cute, satoru notices) and agreed to sit next to each other. satoru takes the seat right above you and never stops kicking his freakishly long legs against the wood the entire time.

so yeah, it's obvious he's not a saint; he still has that undoable ego and he's cocky as fuck (as you have the misfortune of finding out when he quickly bullies your professor), but there's a certain familiarity in that no matter how ugly it might appear to others. and if you asked (which he really, really hopes you will someday), he doesn't hang around douchebags who use kids' foreheads for ashtrays and treat girls like they're candy from a glittery pez dispenser. and at least he's switched harassment targets. even though he has an overwhelming sense of superiority over others and never has his lips together for more than five seconds, and even though he has this hellish habit of clicking his pen whenever he's not talking (or when someone else is), it seems like he's changed.

and over time, you gradually find yourself warming up to him. the spunkiness that used to get on your nerves ceaselessly becomes an object of endearment, and you don't really mind the way he never seems to stop moving anymore. it's a nice sort of distraction in the lifeless still of the lecture hall, albeit the pen clicking still drives you near insanity. you notice he always does it obnoxiously and quickly when you're talking to your roommate's brother, but you ignore it.

and for satoru? he hates that he can kinda sorta really tell that you're the only one who can read him like he's a damn book, cus you slowly start to soften up in the nostalgia of his presence like cold playdough between warm fingers that tell you he may have finally caught you again after letting you slip the first time. and he notices it. this time, he's determined not to let you be the one that got away again. but youre really giving him a shit time outta it with the way you constantly entertain the guy who always has his breath in your face.

yeah, he's got a cute face that's sunkissed by freckles. yeah, his hair looks like he models for shampoo companies. and fuck, he has a nice voice. but what of it? satoru's the one with the mesmerizing blue irises and the cloudy white hair your professor wishes he had instead of sad little wisps of old age. still, as chilly days turn into frigid weeks, he gets the perfect backseat angle of the growing relationship between the two of you. the boy's kinda dumb so you copy off of satoru’s work when you need to (he has to hide the 1-0 scoreboard between him and the guy on a sticky note from you when you take his notes), but said guy’s always buying you stuff and lending you erasers and laughing when you flick the shavings at the annoying girl who never stops whispering in the front of the room.

satoru tries to act unbothered, and he almost convinces everyone. including himself. but the angry, burning knot in his chest that's entirely different from coffee stains suggests something more. that should be him at your side. him, making balls of paper with rude scribbles and silly doodles to throw at the people he knows you don't like. him, surprising you with little gifts and the cheap trinkets he knows you adore so much instead of all the luxury things he could afford. there's no way this punk could possibly measure up to him, right? but at least you and satoru are well on your way to becoming friends again. not as close as you used to be, but it's something. substantial. and he's learned to be patient in the time you've been gone.

but he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't tired of it. he’s endlessly plagued with thoughts of increasing intensity— first, it starts out with just you. only you. the way he likes it. the way he likes your face, and your pretty eyes and your gorgeous lips and your soft hair and your figure and the complimenting clothes you wear. but it takes a turn; thoughts turn into dreams that turn into fantasies and he's lying when he says he doesn't enjoy them when he accidentally lets it slip during a group study session— and it’s all fine— but then, that guy appears. the brat who seems to sit a centimeter closer to you with each coming day. not only does he haunt satoru in real life, he’s tormenting his dreams, too. tainting the image of beautiful you.

needless to say, satoru starts to wake up with his hands gripping his damp pillow like he's choking it, acutely aware of the sweat sliding down his neck and over his chest as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the dorm's air conditioner run and thinking of what it'd be like for dreams (the ones where he replaces the boy) to become reality.

it's a buildup. and soon, he reaches the apex; it's like a rollercoaster, that stomach-twisting moment when you reach the top of the rail that points to the steep descent downward. but this time, he hopes it's a thrill he gets instead of the usual falling fright; the one he got when he realized he’d slipped between your fingers in highschool.

and satoru finally comes to a grinding halt at the top of the ride one breezy fall day when he decides he wants you back in his life after you smile brightly at him and wave goodbye for the day. he’s tired of you having one foot in and one foot out of his heart; he wants, needs more. he always has, he realizes.

so he’s thinking about you and how to approach the feelings he’s realized during those long lectures, and one morning he comes up with some semblance of a plan when he’s high on the sugar from the fruit tea you bought him that morning. and he hopes that, by the end of it, he'll leave your apartment with your hand in his currently empty one, chilled with the remnants of cold condensation from the bottle.

soon enough, satoru finds himself extinguishing his nerves and raising a tense fist to knock on the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and a flimsy plan to ask you out on a midterm study sesh and maybe even a date, but he stops when he realizes it’s slightly ajar. a brief thought of what look might be on your face when he surprises you crosses his mind, so he lets himself in quietly, because he knows every single floorboard that creaks like the back of his palm from his childhood. he’s hit with a wave of warmth and an achingly familiar scent that twists at his heart, and your apartment is cozy and safe and it screams you and he thinks he catches sight of his jacket slung across the back of the couch in your living room, but he’s not sure so he takes a step forward and—

he’s greeted with the sight of that stupid guy with the nice hair and the freckles, and it makes his heart drop. but even worse, he’s kissing you and his arms are winding around your waist but you’re kissing him back with a slight hesitation that’s blinded to satoru by his shock and the fingers he thought would end up in his own tonight card through the boy’s hair and your lips glisten with the strawberry-kiwi flavored gloss he watched the boy give you a few days back and his world is turning red and he feels like his throat is constricting and he can’t breathe—

and he doesn’t even realize you’ve parted lips and you’re calling his name through the newfound tightness of his chest and the painful ringing in his ears thats even louder than any silence of a lecture hall, or the void that should’ve been filled with your voice during the time you were apart. but now satoru realizes he’d take that any fucking chance to have that again because it’s so much better than what he’s stuck with now. having you, but not really having you, because you’re there but you’re someone else’s and you’re not his and he isn’t yours. the best thing he could ever hope for was for you to own an article of his clothing and a piece of his shattered heart, broken into a million fragments. some cruel voice in his buzzing head reminds him to change the scoreboard to 0-100.

and he could buy you cheap hot coffee or earn your smiles from scrunched up paper balls or even hear your laugh with crude jokes, but there’s no point when he realizes he can’t buy you with caffeine or earn you with hitting the back of people’s heads with his bio notes or have you and your laugh all to himself anymore.

it’s almost pathetic, the way satoru’s voice cracks and changes. the look of unadulterated concern on the face of the boy who stole your lips just adds fuel to the fire.

“gojo? what are you doing here— hey, are you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

he noticed you’d stopped calling him satoru a few weeks back. he should’ve seen it coming.

“huh? oh, yeah. i’m good. i think you’re the one hallucinating.”

he’d never told a bigger lie in his life.

satoru had left after excusing himself for intruding. how very unlike him to be so polite, you think.

so in the end, he leaves your apartment with something in his hand, after all. but it's not your own— just his blazer that you’d given back to him before he stepped out the door, taunting him with the faint scent of coffee and lingering perfume. his hope was foolish, so it seems. it’s too bad, he thinks. if it were him, he would’ve sandwiched you against your counter while he kissed. but it wasn’t. apparently, it was your turn for your stars to align at the price of his.

and so, gojo satoru, the boy force-turned man with a chipped ego and a completely broken heart, loses you again.

bonus bonus.. part 2….

[gravegoer]

reminder that she is the only arcane character that has no living family left, is now on the council (where she isnt accepted by most of her peers), has to carry on vanders legacy, and before this was constantly serving/saving and cleaning up after silco. also, she had zero time to greive jinx or isha. love u guys tho

[jenoutof10]

i call this the "maybe in another universe, i'm a better sibling to you."

[starscream-is-my-wife]

This is part 1 of a continuation for my other post where LL Megatron gets trapped in the G1 universe, I was thinking about how someone would go insane in this cartoon world and thought "what if Megatron had someone else to accompany him" so, I gave Starscream an existential crisis

Edit: pt 2 here

[celestialwrites]

saying ‘i love you’ without saying ‘i love you’ dialogue prompts

@celestialwrites for more!

♡ “to me, you are perfect.”

♡ "don't you realise? you are my world."

♡ "you brought me back to life."

♡ "the only way i know how to describe what i feel around you is home. i feel at home."

♡ "it's as if my entire life i have been sinking in a storm and you came and pulled me out."

♡ "you know i stayed for you, and frankly, i don't regret it one bit."

♡ "with the whole of my heart, i believe that together we are infinite."

♡ "i never intend on leaving you. you hear me? never."

♡ "thank you for being the shoulder i always needed, even when you hated me."

♡ "i can't live without you!"

♡ "never leave me, my heart couldn't bear it."

♡ "i've spent my whole life waiting for you."

♡ "consumed in darkness, you darling, were my light."

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS!!<3

[cozylittleartblog]

cringe is dead because rouxls is carrying the weight of it all madoka style

[alleyesony0u]

do you think the iron swords say a little prayer to the chosen one before they open the door and slaughter the young boy, trembling, terrified in the corner?

[littlecrittereli]

That moment when your non-affectionate brother is suddenly affectionate

[kruegerspillow]

thinking about simon who's absolutely gobsmacked after you'd risked your own life for his. he was stuck between awe and anger as he watched your hit figure.

[ALTERNATIVE ENDING HERE!]

MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE BENEATH THE CUT ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

Simon's heart stopped as soon as he heard the sudden gunshot. You'd gotten yourself in his way in order to prevent the bullet from going through your lieutenant. The corner of his eyes twitched before the screaming of soldiers snapped him out of his thoughts. Your blood splattered on Simon's uniform.

"Bloody 'ell, price! There are dozens of 'em. Call fo' fuckin' backup!" Gaz grunted out in the radio, annoyance dripping down his voice. Simon shouts out orders to his other teammates, his voice unwavering.

You groaned, shifting on the ground before you felt a pair of shaky arms wrapped around your figure, lifting you up with ease as your throat tightens. Simon's eyes pierced through yours, his mask hiding  the expression beneath them. He made his way to an isolated corner, while the sound of bullets wheezing past the both of you echoed.

"Ya wanna play hero now, huh?" His voice was filled with wrath, though lacked actual bite.

He placed you down, kneeling in front of you as you let out a pained grunt. His hand hovered over your body, feeling nearly unsure for the first time. Your eyes squeezed shut, and Simon felt his heart ache at the sight.

His shaky hand made its way to your cheeks, lifting your head so you could look up at him as he murmured words of encouragement that you couldn't seem to pick up. His other hand helped you exert pressure on the bleeding wound.

"Don't close your fuckin' eyes, ya hear me? Look at me. Look at me. Hey, that's an order." He whispered, his voice cracking as the world spun around you.

The hands that were once on your cheek made their way to the tourniquet in his vest. Fuck, Simon thought in his head.

The battlefield has no place for love. War won't stop just to let you see your loved ones once again. Simon knew that by keeping his 'no bullshit' facade. Yet, moments like this are the ones that the Ghost could not prevent. He hated how you made him soft, he hated the way his gaze lingered around your figure, he hated how your words had its way with him. But, now? This may or may not be the last time he'd be able to touch you, to feel your skin against his, to show you just how much he loves you, even though you would never understand the amount of love he has for you.

The screaming of soldiers died down as the hostiles retreated from the area. Simon wrapped the tourniquet around your leg, pausing for a moment.

"Breathe, yeah? This... this may sting a bit." Simon spoke up, and you nodded.

He tightened the tourniquet, causing you to nearly jerk. He softly shushed you, his eyes darting from your wound to your facial expression. Once he finished tightening it around your leg, his hands went to the radio.

"Bravo 0-7 to Bravo 0-6, we need evac immediately. Fuckin' hell this place has turned into a bloody massacre." Simon murmured.

"Got your coordinates, we'll be there in ten."

The atmosphere went quiet. Gaz and the other soldiers checked around the area for any hostels while Simon stayed by your side, his chest rising up and down in exhaustion. He quietly gathered his composure.

"Ghost..." Your weakened voice caught his attention.

His eyes softened as he watched you quietly, his hands falling to the side as he stayed kneeling on the ground. The stench of blood and gunpowder lingered around the both of you. Your breathing regulated, he noticed.

"Feelin' better, hero?"

"...Never felt better."

A small, muffled scoff left his lips. His eyes hovered around you, as if he was admiring you. The color of your eyes, the way your chest rose up and down. You met his gaze, noticing the familiar look in them. A swirl of emotions took over his mind.

He longs for the feeling of your touch— the feeling of your lips against his. He wished he could just pull you into a deep, passionate kiss that he had always hoped for; just to show you how much he loves you. Just to let you know that he'd only loved you from the start, just to prove to you that he is a human being capable of love—

But he can't.

You'll never realize just how much he needed you. You'll never notice the way his gaze lingers at you for far too long. You'll never notice the way his eyes soften at the sight of you. And, perhaps, you never will.

The sound of the helicopter filled the area, snapping him out of his trance. As Simon cleared his throat, he carefully lifted you up. Gaz's footsteps echoed through the building before his eyes shifted to Simon. He gestured for the both of you to get into the helicopter.

Simon stood up, carefully making his way out of the building with precise steps.

"Ghost?"

"... Yeah?"

" I, ahem..." you paused for a moment, "Thank you... for helpin' me back there."

Fuck, he felt his heart shattering into a million pieces.

kruegerspillow © 2024 ➵ do not feed my work into ai, repost or translate my work. Reblogs are much appreciated ୨ৎ

[reader-from-another-dimension]

A little writing for this au by @yuukirita, the brainrot...it's killing me...take this and save urself... I'll write more, probably.

B-127 hurts, he’s bleeding on the rough ground of Cybertron itself. Or is he? Why is he bleeding, anyways?

There was a fight, he thinks, maybe. B-127 remembers, the Decepticon were setting base on a stray planet, to refuel? Yes, probably, they were low on energon. At some point, Autobots appeared, Optimus was there too! Megatron and he were shouting at each other for a while.

B-127 never really liked it when they fought, Elita wasn’t even here this time.

There’s shouting again, not at him, though. They sound panicked, did someone get hurt real bad? Did he get hurt real bad?

There was someone moving him, their touch was nice, rough hands, but gentle.

Dee?

Right then, B-127 was struck with a realization that maybe, just maybe, he might be dying. It’s getting dark, and he can’t see.

No, no, he can’t die. He’s not leaving Dee alone, how would he know to get back to recharge after another bad dream? What about Orion? Elita? Steve 2.0? His body was being lifted up, and more shouting and loud noises, but it was fading away. His already blacked-out screen beeps with frantic error pop-ups, notifying how his system is shutting down one-by-one.

It’s getting very, very cold. B-127 still can’t see.

B-127 still wants to hang out with his friends for a little longer.

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Inside a long-abandoned, dusty trash bin, a small bot activates.