#weeping sobbing killing maiming

[ju-draws-worms]

boat to nowhere in a shirt that doesn’t fit anymore

[1000-rat-corpses]

I finally beat endwalker...

[sehtoast]

A Monster Calls (Homelander x OC)

2300 words | graphic description of a corpse, nightmares, hurt with lots of comfort, homie needs a bedtime story

A scream of pure terror rips through his throat.  The world around him burns, smoke and ash blowing through the once lackluster streets of Manhattan, blocking out the sun’s rays.  The world is decimated, buildings crumbling, debris crashes around him.

But… this?

This wasn’t supposed to be.  This should have never happened– he didn’t fucking mean for this to happen!

He falls to his knees, voice caught somewhere between a wail and a moan.  His chest feels so tight.  Like a void clawing at every cell in his body to drag them into an abyss.  A black hole that won’t stop until it’s destroyed him from the inside out.  

It can’t be… 

There’s blood on his face, on his hands, staining every inch of his suit.  Before him is his Benjamin.  His precious, perfect little Benjamin…

Body crumpled and maimed.  Soaked in the same blood covering him…

What has he done?

What has he fucking done?

A violent sob tears through his throat, becoming an earth shattering scream as he tips his head back to the sky.  The only word he can roar to the world, to himself…

“No!”

He wails and pleads, begging– oh, god, fucking begging for him to wake up!  To stand up!  Be okay!  Be fucking anything but… but this.

Benjamin promised him.  He promised to never leave him.  Never.

Never!

He grips his lover’s body by the shoulders but his fingers pierce clean through sinew and bone, damaging his lifeless form even more. Homelander startles back, shrieking.  He tries to touch Benjamin’s jaw, but the slightest caress dislocates it as though he struck him full force.  Every touch, no matter how featherlight, mangles his Benjamin and he howls .  He brings his hands to tug at his own hair, offsetting the pain in his heart with physical hurt.  He doesn’t know what to do.  He doesn’t know how to fix it.  He knows he can’t.

He wants to fucking die.

He collapses backward, but finds himself shooting up into blackness and he’s screaming, clambering to back away from the corpse of the man he loves and he’s so, so sorry.  He’s so fucking sorry.

He can’t control how his voice cracks into a pitiful sob, can’t stop the twisting sickness in his gut nor the agonizing emptiness in his chest.

It’s okay…

No!  No, no no– he’d killed his Benjamin. Nothing was okay; nothing would ever fucking be okay ever again and–

Johnny…

God, please.  Please, please, please, no…

He brings his fist down on his thigh as hard as he can, yelping at a pain only he could ever inflict upon himself.  The muscle in his leg screams, so he does it again.  And again.  Again.

He should silence his body for having the gall to beg for mercy after what he’d done.

He brings his fist down a fifth time, but he never feels the blow.

He hopes it’s because he’s dead.  That the blackness surrounding him is the void of the afterlife and maybe, oh, god, maybe he can beg his Benjamin to forgive him.

“Johnny!” He hears, and he weeps.

What have I done to you..?

He’s afraid to open his eyes.  Afraid that he’ll be face to face with that mangled corpse, that crooked jaw, and he just can’t fucking do it.

He can’t do it…

“Baby, shhh…” whispers that sweet, sweet voice.  Angelic and soft, breaths ghosting over his temple, a kiss to his hairline.

Things he’ll never feel again…

“Please don’t make me look…” He chokes out, eyes clenched as tight as he physically can.  “Please, please don’t…”

“Look at what, pumpkin?”

He heaves a shuddering breath, body tense, muscles like cable wires ready to snap.

“You…”

A beat of silence passes and he wants to look.  Wants to see those lifeless eyes one last time before the void swallows him.  Wants to give himself that last punishment…

“What’s wrong with me?” Benjamin asks him, huffing a sympathetic breath.  “I know I look a little goofy, but I’m not that bad, babe.” He hates to inject humor at such an inappropriate time, but he had to do something to let John know he wasn’t… well, wherever he’d been.

Homelander feels fingers run featherlight through his hair and he’s petrified they’ll break from simply touching him.  He doesn’t have the heart to jerk away when a hand grasps his, leading it up to rest against Benjamin’s cheek.  He’s so fearful of what he’ll feel that it doesn’t even register at first that nothing's wrong.

He stops breathing.

Nothing is wrong.

His brow furrows with a deep sob, eyelids fluttering open apprehensively to peer from under wet lashes.

The dark blue glow of Benjamin’s computer illuminates the room and he can just barely tell that his little spider is okay.

He’s okay.

He moves to hug Ben but recoils away at the last second.  He’s afraid.  Afraid to touch, afraid that the hand already at his love’s face was too much and he’d–

“S’okay, honey,” Ben coos, snaking an arm around him to pull him close.  He presses a soft kiss to the corner of Homelander’s mouth before slowly embracing him.  “See?”

Homelander lets a shaky hand smooth up Ben’s back, the skin soft and unmarred.  His spine was straight– not twisted.  Shoulders whole and intact.  Limbs attached… 

“Fuck…”

Just then, he broke.

He fucking shattered into millions of pieces.

All he wanted was to pull Benjamin closer, hug him so impossibly tight that they’d become one, they’d merge and never part– but he can’t.

He can only use a fraction of his strength to hold his little spider close.  He can only fall apart and let Benjamin hold him together.  Weep pitifully against a neck he last saw as broken.  Listening to a voice that couldn’t speak to him before.  Feeling those hands he’d destroyed…

“I-I’m s-so,” he hiccuped, words interrupted by desperate, heaving breaths from a spasming diaphragm.  “F-Fu-ckin’ s-sor-ry!”

The heat of Ben’s body against him is the only thing guarding him from the chill of the room.  From the coldness of the void…

“S’okay…” Ben sighs, pulling him impossibly closer.  This isn’t the first time, but it is the worst to date.  Nightmares weren’t uncommon, especially not with Homelander’s upbringing.  Normally he’d hold him, let him sniffle and shake, let him come down from it.  John would bite back the tears and finish having his little episode, crack a clearly uncomfortable joke, then burrow his face against Ben’s neck to hide.

This? 

This was something else.  Every choked and gasped detail confirmed it.

K-Kil-led y-ou!

D-Dead!

Coul-dn’t t-touch– m’worse!

Pl-Please! Please god…

He confirms it every time John begs him to say that this is real, that he was alive.  Ben does all that he can to soothe Homelander.  Holds him, rubs his back, plays with his hair, hums a soft tune, presses kisses to his forehead.  Anything he can think of.

Over time, his sobs become whimpers, body lurching with the occasional silent cry.  

“I’m so sorry…” Is all he says, voice tight and strained.  It’s all he can say.  For what he did. For what he’s doing now.  The shame settles in and all he can do is apologize for everything.  

Eventually, Benjamin moves just enough to turn on the table lamp.  He wants to hide himself, but he has no will to move.  No energy for it.

He’s utterly drained. His body feels numb. 

So he shuts his eyes.  Lets his little spider thumb away his tears and the smear of snot on his upper lip.  God, he wants to apologize for that, too.

He hears the thwip of a web and suddenly Ben is directing him to take a half empty bottle of water.

“Drink.” Benjamin tells him.  “For your throat.”  And all the tears…

He doesn’t need to.  That’s the fucking thing.  He doesn’t need this, but Ben gives it to him anyway.  Dotes on his well being, cares about what happens to him, wants him to be comfortable.  So he does it.  Sucks the whole thing down in one go, tosses the bottle in the general direction of the trashcan, rolls his eyes when he hears the plonk of it bouncing elsewhere.

He can’t bring himself to look at Ben head on.  He knows he’s a disgusting wreck, unsightly and weak.  He can see at least some of the damage he’d caused upon waking.  At his feet lay the scraps of the blanket, torn clean in two.

Fuck… He mutters an apology for that, too.

“I love you,” Ben tells him, hands at his cheeks to direct his gaze away from the bed.  “Don’t worry about that.  S’just stuff.”  His thumb falls to Homelander’s neck, just over his pulse.  It’s quick, but not nearly as erratic.  “It’s okay.”

Homelander hates that it makes his lip quiver.  He sinks a fang into it to stop himself.

“Everything is okay.”

He chooses to believe that.  Chooses to believe his Benjamin was telling the whole truth.  Lets his little spider lead him to the bathroom and clean his face with a warm, damp towel.  Lets him guide him back into bed, trusts that he was honest about running to grab a new cover and that he wasn’t making a break for it while he still could.

Like he should. 

What a brave boy Benjamin was, resting every night with the maw of a beast at the nape of his neck. Defenseless next to a creature of unfathomable violence, incalculable cruelty… 

Next to him.

Relief like rain washes over Homelander when Benjamin does come back.  

Ben takes the time to tuck him in properly before climbing back into bed.  Nuzzles up close to him, kisses pressed to his cheek.

He feels like he could fall apart all over again. 

  Ben's fingers trailing abstract shapes through the smatterings of hair on his chest soothe him. He maps the shapes in his mind. Each written I love you , a smiley face, a heart, a–

“Did you just draw a dick?” 

The bug giggles against his skin and the sound alone lifts several tons of woe from his heart.  “You’re getting good at that,” he murmurs.  Silence settles in between them, but Ben knows better than to let it linger.  Before he can speak up, though, Homelander whispers–

“Please say something…”

Ben lifts his head and offers something different.  

A story. 

Not an anecdote or a tale of gossip.  A book.

“Yeah, fine…” Homelander mutters.  “Just– something.  Please.”

Ben retrieves the little novel with a web, yanking it hard enough to travel from the bookshelf to the bed.  It’s not a dense read by any means, but it’s one that was very special to him. On the cover,  a hulking mass of tendril-like roots stand tall, as if like a man, making its way toward a little home.  He shows it to Homelander, who arches a brow, reddened eyes flitting across the cover with a distant gaze.

A Monster Calls.

“I’ve always really liked this one,” he says.  “I found it at a bad time in my life, but I’m really glad I did, y’know?  It has a way of being exactly what you need when you need it…”

He motions for Homelander to switch positions– to snuggle up to him instead, reclined against a pile of pillows.  The very first words rumble in Ben’s chest, warm and soothing.

“The monster showed up just after midnight.  As they do.”

Homelander huffs a sigh.  They always come late at night, don’t they?   When we’re vulnerable.  When we can’t protect ourselves.

They arrive to torment us.  Dangle our fears in front of us and taunt us until all we know is agony.  Remind us of our own fragility and that of those we love…

“He’d had a nightmare.  Well, not a nightmare.  The nightmare.”

The nightmare.  

“The one he’d been having a lot lately.  The one with the darkness and the wind and the screaming.”

He gulps.

The one with the darkness and the wind and the screaming…

He’s certain he’s heard this one before.  Lived it, even.  Yeah…

He has, hasn’t he?

In his own way.

He listens and listens, ear pressed to Ben’s chest to hear his voice reverberate alongside that heartbeat that told him everything really was okay.  Even when that voice got sleepy, started to taper off and yawn, ceasing altogether, turning to soft snores just before the sun rose, he knew it was okay.

Benjamin’s heart still beats.

Homelander slips the book from Ben’s limp hands, dangling it from the back few pages.  They’d made it through almost halfway, and he was at least a little curious as to how the boy’s tale ends.  A line catches his eye and his throat tightens.

“If you speak the truth,”   he recites in a whisper.  “You will be able to face whatever comes.”

If I speak the truth…

Against the soft rise and fall of Benjamin’s chest, he releases a shuddering breath.  If he speaks the truth, he acknowledges his fear, his pain, his agony.  He acknowledges that there is something in this world that can truly hurt him– that can kill him.  Something that can unravel him at the seams and unmake him.

There is something more powerful than him in this world.  

Something from which he cannot protect himself.

“I…”  he tries, but it doesn’t come out.

He lays there and listens.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

He hears it in there.  

“I…” he tries again, focusing on each and every rhythmic beat.  “I'm so afraid of you…”

But that wasn’t quite the full truth, was it?

“I’m so afraid of how much you mean to me…”

There was more.

“I’m scared to lose you… Scared I’ll hurt you, too.”

More.

“I love you so, so fucking much…”

[aamaranthiine]

♦ reverse obviously, cause I need Shanks dying in Theas arms. Thanks for the pain c:

( from here. - accepting - for @ravarui' shanks because we love pain. )

This was her fault.

She'd been too slow, too worn down from sleepless nights and the cold, suffocating pressure of sea prism shackles on her wrists and ankles.

If she hadnt been captured in the first place, if she had only been more alert, then none of this wouldnt have happened. The Hunters wouldnt have caught up to her during an interim where she wasnt with Shanks, dragged her to one of their bases in the New World to cage her like some wild beast. The whole crew had come to get her but the Hunters knew about her associations - two birds one stone sort of idea wasnt it? Lure out the Yonko and his lot because she was close to them. Perfect bait for a trap.

Poisonous thoughts to be having, but what else is there to do?

There's too much blood, and Thea cannot hear anything beyond the rush of the sea in her ears from her bindings and the weakening drumbeat of Shanks' heart. A long piece of jagged steel sticking out from just under his ribs on his left side, a steady stream of thick crimson from a pierced heart. Shrapnel from a cleverly placed explosive meant to maim or kill any attempts to escape the lower levels.

She couldnt pull it out, lest he bleed out quicker, but she had no power to heal him either way. Beck had run off to search for Hongo - the crew had been scattered over the large base in their search for her and confrontation with her captors. Her mouth is moving but she cannot hear her own words, stained hands pressed to the wound to try and stem its weeping. "Stay with me, please, please dont go, I'm so sorry." She thinks she's saying on repeat, or she's sobbing, vision blurred by tears and thin rivulets of silver.

They were going to be too late. Hongo wouldnt get here in time. They wouldnt find the key to her shackles in time. Too much time will have passed for her revivify ability to work and every second that ticked by was surely Death laughing at her. The Reaper may never have the mythical zoan under his shadow but he would very well take all of her loved ones away.

Thea leans over her friend, sees his mouth move but cannot comprehend what he is trying to convey. He's so pale, skin clammy and breath shaking as his pulse ebbs and stutters. The weight of futility is more crushing than the deepest ocean depths and she might as well be dying alongside him. Her face presses against his shoulder and she folds herself against him as best she can, chains digging in uncomfortably, sweat and blood mingling.

Feels and hears the final quieting of his heart, the last rush of breath from his lungs and never has she ever felt both mortal and immortal than in witnessing the death of someone she loved. Powerless to save him and burdened with the reality she would still live to see countless dawns ahead without him.

[grody-cosplay-n-crap]

As soon as I realized Praksis was a Scorn I knew I would have to bite kill rip tear cry sob maim puke weep bite punch kick scream cry retch beat kill gag weep claw crunch terminate destroy mangle maim cry whimper sob heave choke gag rip scream yell tear bite kill kill killl kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill ki

[painprns]

Horror & Edgy Neopronouns

CW: Illegal activity. TW: Violent actions, murder, stalking, body parts, weapons, and religious themes. A lot of the content in here triggered me so be careful if you want to look at this list. (And before you ask, yes, I am fine. You learn to cope.)

Of course, I don't approve of anything in this list, and this list isn't meant to glamorize those who have mental issues or violent tendencies. I have issues with violence and mental issues. Sometimes, it just helps. If there are any words you think should be added (or removed) feel free to send in an ask.

Note: Try putting a suffix on some words, like -ful or -less. Gives you plenty more options. Also, every new beginning letter will be bolded and with a new color for reading ease.

Pronouns (including emojis, not including extras like parentheses or alternatives): 443

🖤 🕷 🦇 🗡 ⚔ 💣 🔪 🕸 ⛓ 🥀 💀 ☠ ⚰ 🚬 🪦 🔥 😈 👿 💉 ⚠ 👻 🦴 🧠 🫀 🫁 🦷 👁 👀 🪝 🔨 🪓 ⛏ 🩸 💊

abandon

abyss

accelerate

again

alive

alley(way)

anarchy

anger

apart

apocalypse

arm

arson

ash(phalt)

attic

away

awful

awry

axe

back(alley/rooms)

bait

bat

beast

beat(down)

beg

belittle

behead

bet

bite

blade

blaze

blood

body

boil

bomb

bone

boo(m)

brain

break(down)

breath(e)

brick

brittle

bug

bullet

burn

bury

buzz

cannibal(ize)

cap(ture)

car(cass)

carnivore

cat(ch)

caught

cause

chain(saw)

chaos

chase

cig(arette)

claw

clown

coffin

corvid

concern

concrete

consume

control

copy(cat)

core

corpse

corridor

cover

coward

cower

crawl

creature

creep

cremate

crimson

critter

cross

crow

crime

criminal

crumble

crunch

crush

cry

crypt(id)

curse

cut

dagger

danger

dark(ness)

daunt

dawn

daze

deflate

disease

disgust

dissect

dizzy

dead

death

decay

demon

destroy

devil

dice

die

dirt

disappear

disease

disgust

doll

done

drac(ula)

drain

dread

drown

dull

eat

ecto(plasm)

edge

edgy

eerie

elbow

empty

evil

eye

facade

face

fail(ure)

fall

fang

far

fatal

fear

fight

final

finger

fire

flame

flesh

follow

freak

fright(en)

fury

gain

gargoyle

gas(h)

gauze

gaze

ghost

ghoul

gimp

glee

gnash

god

gore

gouge

grab

grain

grasp

grate

grave(yard/stone)

grease

grim(ace)

grime

grind(er)

grip

grit

gross

grotesque

grunge

guard

grue(some)

gun

gut(teral)

hail

hammer

hand

harbor

hard

harm

hatch(et)

hate

hatred

haunt

havoc

head(stone)

heart

heat

hell

hidden

hide

high(way)

hilt

hit

hook

hollow

horror

hound

hunt

hurl

hurt

ice(pick)

ill(ness)

immolate

immortal

imp(ale)

incinerate

inflammatory

inhale

inhalation

instant

intense

irritate

jab

jail

jam

jank

jostle

joke

joy

junk

kill

kilter

knee

knife

lank

last

lather

laugh(ter)

leak

leg

lich

lim(inal)

linger

link

little

lung

lurk

macabre

maim

malicious

manslaughter

marrow

mask

mass(acre)

maze

meat

melt

mime

mince

misery

monster

morbid

moss

murder

mystery

nail

nausea/nauseous

night(mare)

noise

nowhere

necro

off

one

omen

open

over(power)

pail

pain

pale

panic

phantom

phobia

piece

pill

plead

poison

poltergeist

power

prey

puddle

purge

pyre

question

quiet

quiver

rabies

rage

rail

raid

rain

rake

rat

raw

restrain

retch

rip

road(kill)

rock

rot

run(away)

rust

saw(dust)

scare

scary

scent

scratch

scream

search

seize

sewer

shadow

shake

shiver

shock

shoot

shove(l)

shred

shriek

sick(ness)

silent

sink

sin(ister)

skin

skull

slash(er)

slay

sledge(hammer)

small

smash

smell

smoke

sob

somber

some(body)

someone

slip

spider

spirit

spike

spook

stab

stain

stalk

start(le)

steal

step

storm

strain

strange

stun

suffer

sunk

survive

sword

syringe

teeth

tense

terror

thorn

threat

tinge

tomb(stone)

torn

torture

tooth

trail(cam)

train

trigger

trip

turn

tyranny

undead

unknown

vamp(ire)

venom

vicious

villain

violent

void

wary

weak

weapon

weep

weird

wick(ed)

wicker

whir

whiz

whisper

will

wilt

wither

wound

worry

wraith

wrath

wreck

wring

wrong

wrought

yank

yell

yelp

zero

zombie

[theivorybilledwoodpecker]

A woman cradles a child in her arms, delicately balanced on her knee. It is an image that resonates, as ancient as human history. But in a grim inversion of the familiar, we see that the child she holds close is a corpse, wrapped in a shroud. It is a quiet moment of intense grief. The woman wears a headscarf, her head bowed, her face convulsed with grief. You cannot tell if the child she is weeping over is a boy or girl. The child is one of many who have lost their lives on both sides in the Israel-Hamas war. Most have names we will never know, whose deaths will spark a lifetime of grief for family members we will never meet. In the 21st century, an average of almost 20 children a day have been killed or maimed in wars around the world, according to UNICEF. Reuters photographer Mohammad Salem was in Khan Younis in the southern Gaza Strip on October 17 at the Nasser Hospital morgue, where residents were going to search for missing relatives.He saw the woman squatting on the ground in the morgue, sobbing and tightly embracing the child’s body. “It was a powerful and a sad moment, and I felt the picture sums up the broader sense of what was happening in the Gaza Strip,” he said. “People were confused, running from one place to another, anxious to know the fate of their loved ones, and this woman caught my eye as she was holding the body of the little girl and refused to let go.” The moment was particularly poignant for Mohammad, whose wife gave birth just days before. In Gaza, where there have been communications blackouts, tracing people has been fraught with difficulties. But two weeks after the photo was taken, Reuters was able to track down the woman in the photo and interview her at her home in Khan Younis. She is Inas Abu Maamar, 36, and the body she was holding in the photo was that of her 5-year-old niece, Saly. Inas had raced to the house of her uncle when she had heard that it had been hit and then on to the morgue. “I lost my conscience when I saw the girl. I took her in my arms,” she said. “The doctor asked me to let go, … but I told them to leave her with me.” Saly’s mother and sister were also killed along with Inas’s uncle and aunt. Saly was a favourite of Inas – she used to drop by her grandmother’s house on the way to kindergarten and ask her aunt to take photos of her. “Most of the videos and pictures in my mobile are of her,” Ines said. Saly’s 4-year-old brother, Ahmed, was outside the house when it was struck and survived. He is now living with Inas. He rarely speaks, other than to ask where Saly is.

[our-reality]

50 36 23 requiem!

answering these in number order cuz it was bothering me hshdjeksnd

23. how would they want to die?

depends on if you mean before or after s2. cuz the answer changes. very drastically

pre s2 requiem. i don't think they'd have a specific method in mind but however it happens, they want everybody in the world to see it. they want their death to make national headlines, they want people to dig in deep into their case file, they want their autopsy to be a public spectacle. maybe people would find their dozens of journal entries and use them as a case study for kids and their health, finally making things better for other kids and their physical and mental health issues. maybe people would find the visions they wrote down and they'd prepare in advance for the horrible shit they saw. they'd save the world from disaster. they'd be called a hero by the books written about them. every day, people would lament the fact they didn't live longer to have even more visions, people would lament the fact they ever died at all.

and more than that, they want their parents to see. they want their parents to know that they failed in raising their kid and they'll never have a chance to make up for it. they want their parents to weep for them, they want their death to ruin them. they want their death to make them realize how horrible they were and how all of this was their fault, how they could've saved them if they had only been more active, if they had only payed more attention, if they had only been there to save them. but they weren't, and now they're gone. maybe if requiem was lucky, their parents would actually watch them die right in front of them. they'd scream and shout and beg for them to come back, but it never happens. and maybe then they'd finally change themselves for the better. maybe they'd stop going out every night and settle, maybe they'd save up some money and make a little memorial for requiem. and only then would they forgive them.

post s2 requiem? doesn't want to die. like. none of the main cast do, but they especially don't want to die. they don't put any thought into their death... because it scares them. because they finally understand that death isn't a revenge tool to get back at the people who hurt them. because they understand that all the good societal change they wanted to just happen before won't actually occur unless they take it upon themself to make it happen. because they were given a gift, and instead of rejecting that gift because it seems like they were given this humongous duty unfairly, they see that they have an entire lifetime to learn how to use that gift to actively help those in need, not just passively.

i guess. if there was a way they'd want to die. it would be knowing that they lived every last minute of their life as best they could.

36. would they ever kill someone? have they already?

sorry requiem does not maim and murder :( truly disappointing

they'd definitely talk about wanting to kill kill violence bloodshed a lot but i dont think they'd actually have the guts to kill someone. not even their mom and dad!! they have a lot of issues with them (see: above) but i also think they. have a complicated relationship with them where they don't actually realize just how much they dislike their parents (they think they're not that bad because they never like. physically or verbally abused them. yk). but that's for another post

also note this is funny cuz they're an anarchist before s2 and still hold a bunch of anarchist beliefs after s2 and yet they wouldn't actually commit violence. lol.

50. what is your favorite thing about them?

i am so obsessed with the detail of them not actually having any real piercings solely because they're scared of needles. and yes for the comedic value of this hardcore emo teenager crying screaming sobbing at the thought of needles but also like. as an unironic core component of their character as well.

(i'm obviously not trying to baby adults who're afraid of needles but) it's clear that, underneath the dozens of walls they've built around themself, they're still just a scared little kid. a kid who was forced to grow up way too fast because no one else was gonna care for them, so they had to care for themself. a kid who's haunted by visions they can't understand that they don't even know why they get in the first place. a kid who can't even see how damaged and broken they are because so many people have it worse than them, and they don't want to force this burden onto anyone else because they keep being told that they should be able to be self-sufficient and handle everything on their own. because that's what everything and everyone in their life has told them up until this point.

and it's only when they finally get the chance to be a kid, to embrace all the things they were told were "embarrassing" for a kid their age to do, to learn about the things they never asked about before for fear of seeming weak, to actually be 15 that they can grow and mature past their own walls and be who they want to be, not just what everyone expects them to be.

and idk i think all that stuff is kinda neat actually

[hells-greatestdad]

Lucifer nearly falls to the ground once Michael lands on his knees, just barely missing as he uses his wings to hoist him in flight. But he settles onto the ground harshly, sitting, slumped over, bleeding out where his arm had been severed, spitting blood and debris from his mouth, tears still streaming down his face.... all this... everything....

Catching his own breathe as he hears Michael speak, seeing the portal open. For a moment horror fills him once more, thinking Michael had called in back up.

But it's quickly apparent she isn't there to fight. Just observing as they have their exchanges.... the world is beginning to catch up to him now. The realization that his daughter really is gone, finally sinking in...

That's when he hears Michael speak to Emily...

That's when he notices Michael fading away, and it hits him again-- this is Michael he just killed. Yes, he had had great reason to resent Michael, but now that it came down to this.... it's still his brother. Even if it had been a long time ago.... things were not always horrible between them

Lucifer almost speaks up, words on the tip of his tongue.... but Michael speaks first, and Lucifer cannot hold back anymore. Maybe it's the way Michael is crying, too. Or maybe it's the mention of Charlie. Lucifer is suddenly weeping bitterly himself, unable to hold back the sobs that wrack his injured and maimed body.

That's when Lucifer feels the warmth, the healing... wounds closing. But the missing arm still missing.

"Michael, you son of a bitch..." So Lucifer whispers, but there is no malice in it. Only sorrow. "This shit is just too cruel..." Though... that's God's fault...

He drops out of his demon form now, looking over to Emily as he makes his way to stand up. They may be healed, but there is still so much blood...

Oof. Walking and balancing is weird with an arm missing... even as he makes his way over to Emily, he's trying to calm down his breathing, sniffling, trying to stop the flow of tears...

Setting his remaining left hand at Emily's shoulder.

"Emily.... I'm sorry...." What else is there to say...

Lucifer may have not gotten along with Sera after the events of Eden. He may have even hated and resented her. But this...

Lucifer's voice chokes a bit, though he tries hard to keep it steady. "War is terrible.... there's always great loss...."

His hand on her shoulder seems to tremble, even as Lucifer pushes back his own emotions as much as he possibly can to offer Emily some attempted form of comfort

"I hope this is the last war you'll ever have to witness...."

|| @high-seraphims ||

Lucifers blow hits heavily, and true. Michaels ears ring, and the flames that back the hit sear his flesh, the skin of his face sloughing away, half of his mandible shining bone-white through, nearly blinding as it shines with an inner light that suffuses his form.

Sera’s sword meets his side, cutting deeply between his ribs and into his core, burning in his flesh. Were he a mortal man, he is certain that blood loss would have long killed him by now, but he is not. He is the Seraph of Justice, Gods Executioner, The Eldest Son. His purpose is clear, his duty unerring.

Even as Sera comes to a knee before him, her blade supporting her in her wounded state. So close to death both of them are, and he hopes to everything that the final blow comes before he must finish her.

“I pray, dearest Sera, that you can forgive Him, and I both. For what we must do.”

A portal opens at Sera’s hand, and from it blurs a gray shape, pain spiking down Michael’s left arm as a curved blade buries itself into the flesh of his arm, threatening to rend the joint from its socket. He looks into Katyas face, her visage twisted with anger, her words damning.

Treachery. Indeed. If only she knew.

“There is, therefore, now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus.” His voice is strained, quiet, as he stands, hunched and injured. “Who do not walk according to the flesh but according to the Spirit. I do this not from a place of hatred…but because I must.”

He sees Lucifer’s arm raise, and all fatigue seems to leave him. His blade flashes out, and catches the king just beneath the crook of his arm. The angelic steel parts flesh and bone with equal ease, and the limb separates from the rest of his brothers body, arcing through the air trailed by golden ichor, before landing with a dull thud at the Kings feet.

40% damage to Lucifer, his right arm has been severed. 5% damage to Sera from damage over time, negated by Emily.

[sunnnfish]

MAIMING AND KILLING AND BITING THE NEW HIRANO TO KAGIURA CHAPTER IS OUT. I woke up and read it so fast. It’s finally February 15. I can’t even. I. Okay this turned into a full on analysis (specifically about love languages) so spoilers and also it’s Long and Ramble-y. Sorry not sorry

The opening bit was really cute and like surreal almost. The coloring and lighting on those first pages were like mwah chefs kiss yknow. And then just like. AUGH. Can’t believe when Kagi said all the stuff lovers do Hirano was like “we like do that already” with a straight face I can’t believe him. But to his credit it was Kagi that initiated those moments so like. You’re off the hook for now Hirano. And then the long awaited continuation of the ten second deal…. Sobbing and crying and weeping nothing could’ve prepared me for that.

Anyways the interesting development from the conversation with Niibashi. It has always been a point that Hirano spoils and basically babies Kagi so it makes sense to try and be more independent. But counterpoint: Hirano was the one who basically initiated all that. He offered to wake Kagi up in the morning and kept doing it. He offered to eat the food he didn’t like. He offered to help tutor him. And this is the point I realized Kagi’s love language is touch and Hirano’s is acts of service…… oh my god….. I feel like I’ve cracked a code. anyways.

This is actually kind of revolutionary cause I think when Hirano will be denied trying to help Kagi like, something will happen yknow. Something might like shift in his brain and make him realize how much he wants to help Kagi and be there for him. He’s gonna feel kinda weird and directionless if he can’t help Kagi, kinda like we saw when Kagi was avoiding him.

And this is also the reason he’s so unresponsive to the ten second touch deal. Love through touch just doesn’t really click for him, and since it’s already so normal with Kagi, it’s not really doing much. Now, I think if Kagi like did something for Hirano he’d be much more receptive and conscious of that. Like, think back to Kagi’s birthday when Hirano did All That and Kagi got him that crepe as a thank you, there was much more of a response on Hiranos end. He laughs and is genuinely thankful and he quote “loves that sort of thing” if I remember correctly.

So anyway the struggle right now is that that Kagi’s love language is touch and Hiranos is acts of service, and Kagi loves receiving acts of service, and also touch and probably quality time, but Hirano doesn’t necessarily love receiving touch (hello aspec Hirano). If anything I’d say he likes receiving gifts or maybe words of affirmation? Idk I don’t think he’d necessarily like being taken care of all the time like he does Kagi since he’s such a busy body. From what we’ve seen so far he really appreciates gifts, like the earrings and crepe, and then like words of affirmation is kind of a vibe. Like, he gets easily flustered when Kagi points out what he likes about Hirano, and like he clearly likes being appreciated for what he does for Kagi. “I like to see you being happy with what I do” or whatever yknow.

So that’s what they gotta figure out. At least Kagi does. Hirano is just chillin, but I think he is slowly becoming more conscious of what’s important to Kagi in terms of relationships. But Kagi’s gotta realize that touch doesn’t really do it for Hirano cause that’s just not his top priority in a relationship. Kagi wants so much of what Hirano can’t really give right now, probably like the only thing Hirano is unwilling to give right now. As for Hirano, he’s still gotta realize how important and different Kagi is to him compared to his other friends. And I think that’s the main thing here is that he does not treat Kagi like his other friends—if he did this would be a whole different story and I would not be here.

ANYWAYS this turned into a full on analysis I. Im not sorry but. I scare myself sometimes with the absolute clarity I can recall every kagihira moment. And the level on analysis I can go into with them. I think the like. Three months of waiting got to me okay. And now I gotta wAIT ANOTHER THREE MONTHS SCREAMING AND CLAWING. Sigh. It’s okay it’s fine I am sooo patient I can wait. I am just thankful it’s not on a hiatus or anything there will be a new chapter eventually in august I can wait. Anyways uhhh if you made it this far for some reason um thanks for reading. Don’t forget to Like Comment Subscribe am I right. Kagihira 4ever

[obeythebutler]

Yaay, the requests are open! 😀 I was wondering if it is possible to make an angst scenario about Lucifer discovering that MC had also lost a loved one in tragic circumstances? MC had also terrible nightmares of what happened, blaming their selves for the death of their loved ones, so Lucifer comforts them, telling them he understands very well what they are feeling... Sorry for asking you something so serious ,I hope it doesn't bother you.

"I could have saved them."

Five words which echoed in his mind too, five words which reminded him of what he failed to do, five words that made guilt settle in his soul.

The same guilt that plagued his mind too.

"You did all you could." Lucifer whispers, holding you closer as your shoulders shake, carding his hand through your hair in the hopes that it will soothe you.

The words feel almost foreign spilling past his lips: because the inverse of this statement was what Lucifer believed in, that he failed to protect her.

Looking at your sobbing form, he's almost reminded of himself—broken, beaten and defeated. But this isn't about him right now.

"I-" Your voice cracks at the end again, and when your red eyes meet his own Lucifer almost reels, because all he sees is your soul—defeated and broken. "I-I could have offered to go to the market that day, but I was too lazy and—and look, l-look what happened."

Your voice trembles, and all Lucifer can do is hold you tighter, to let you weep because keeping emotions bottled up never did any good, and Lucifer knows the experience.

He had rushed into your room when he heard your sobs; assuming the worst he rushed in, prepared to maim whatever demon dared to harm you, instead he was met with your sobbing form on the floor. Demons of the Devildom he could kill easily, but not demons of one's mind.

Lucifer chooses his next words carefully.

"I understand what you feel," He mumbles, letting the weight of his words sink in the silence before continuing. "I know the pain and the guilt of not being quick enough, of not being there, but you did all you could."

Lucifer has to swallow the lump in his throat.

"I could have gone with them, at least. At least I would have.."

Would have died alongside them, a sentiment Lucifer himself shared with you, if only he was dead too. But you're precious, valuable, loved, by him and his brothers, and he can't let you wallow in the same pool of guilt as him. He can't let you.

"I felt the same way, do you know?"

At that, you raise your head, eyebrow furrowed in confusion at his words. Lucifer wipes your tears with his thumb as he cradles your head. "If only I hadn't rebelled, if only I was faster, if only I had been gone instead," His breath hitches, and Lucifer has to stop for a moment.

The words feel familiar, painful, coming from his mouth but he speaks, he perseveres, just like he always did.

"I did what I could, and yet I could not prevent it. But I can move on, because it's what Lilith would have wanted, it's what they would have wanted."

Your sobs have quietened down significantly.

"They watch over you, just like my sister does." He whispers, and when the word of his sister comes to be spoken he has to suppress the urge to cry himself too.

"...Really?"

"Really."

And now, there's only silence as Lucifer holds you and you snuggle closer, two beings having found solace in each other.

Both mourn the loss of someone that they failed to save, victims of circumstances.

And yet, they're find the strength to begin healing from each other.

[blood-of-ink]

All that Remains - 4

Warnings: Vivisection aftermath, fever, fear, implied/referenced child abuse, alcohol mention tw (In the past).

Taglist: @whumpwillow, @whumpilicious, and @whumpsday, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

___

Vigilante splashed her face with cold water. Get a grip. She scolded herself, but her mind was racing.

Villain was beyond saving, she knew that now. He would just get worse and worse.

Worse.

It made her shudder, the thought of him doing something even more horrific than what he had done to Supervillain.

She looked back at the unconscious man sprawled out on the bed, shivering from his fever.

So long as Villain is free, this or worse can happen to others.

Vigilante gripped the edges of the sink, her knuckles turning white.

It can never happen again.

Capture isn’t an option, he’d escape, he always did. He’d bribe, bully, maim... or worse.

I’ll have to kill him.

The thought nearly made her sick again, as her mind flashed back to her childhood.

The way she’d run away for hours on end when her parents were drunk in an a particularly foul mood.

She’d run to an old, abandoned house at the edge of the woods, and hide under it’s front porch.

And nearly every night, Villain would be there too, hiding away from his father’s horrid temper. His life as a crime lord.

‘We’ll be better than them. We won’t get drunk and beat our children, or hurt people because they did something bad to us.’ Villain had told her.

‘Promise?’ She’d asked.

‘I promise.’

Vigilante closed her eyes.

I should have known better. She thought. But he’d been her friend, and when he’d started to commit crimes, robberies, brawls... she’d always believed him when he told her it was the last time.

‘Villain, you promised! You told me you wouldn’t do it again.’

‘What are you, my mother? Stop ordering me around.’

‘Villain-’

‘Just shut up. You have no idea what’s going on.’

‘Then tell me!’

‘I don’t need to explain myself to you, mind your own fucking business.’

‘Villain, why-’

‘Stay away from me, Vigilante. If you can’t accept this, then get out of my life, and never come back. I never want to see you again.’

Anger twisted inside her.

Everytime I turn around, you find a new fucking way to break my heart.

More bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed hard.

_____

Supervillain woke to the sound of a blade being unsheathed. He jolted awake, and saw Vigilante standing a few feet away, a wicked looking blade in her hand.

Panic took over.

“No, nonononononono, please, please! I’m sorry! I-”

She turned towards him, a surprised look in her eyes. She put the knife down.

“No, no, hey, it’s okay.”

“I can’t take this.” Supervillain whimpered. “D-don’t cut me open again, please.”

“Supervillain, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Th-then why-”

“How long did Villain torture you?”

“N-nine days... h-he told me each d-day how long I’d been there.”

“And he reopened the wound?”

The memory made Supervillain cry. He curled up as best he could, sobbing in panic.

A gentle touch on his forehead surprised him, and he flinched back with a soft whimper.

“Supervillain...” Terrified, he looked up at Vigilante. Now that she was closer too him, he could see that she was crying.

Confusion took the place of his panic.

“I’m going to kill him.” She sniffled, as more tears streaked her face. “I’m going to kill Villain.”

She buried her face in her hands, and began weeping softly.

Supervillain didn’t know how to react.

“He was my friend.” She said, her voice catching. “He was my best friend once... But what he did to you... He can’t be allowed to do that again.”

Supervillain swallowed thickly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Vigilante said softly. “With the knife.”

“I-it’s alright.” Supervillain murmured, exhaustion coursing through his body.

“Get some rest.”

“Please... stay with me.” He begged, and slipped back into sleep.

[spineless-lobster]

Not me thinking about S2 of OFMD having Lacrimosa play over Blackbeard’s new reign of terror while also pairing it with him sobbing in his cabin or anything haha.

Seriously though, I think that song has so much potential with his character. I mean we first see the fictional depiction of Blackbeard presented with Dies Irae (although that is Giuseppe Verdi’s version, not Mozart’s) and it is seen as powerful, evil, and foreboding. I mean it translates to “Day of Wrath”, you can’t get more badass than that. Dies Irae represents death and impending doom, solid words to describe the fictional Dread Pirate Blackbeard. Dies Irae is a requiem, or a song meant for a mass of the dead.

Contrast that with Lacrimosa. It is also a requiem, and it also gives a sense of doom, but it’s a lot softer and less intense. It has a stronger sense of mourning than Dies Irae. Lacrimosa translates to “weeping/tearful” and it can be used in many different contexts including evil, sadness, loneliness and desperation. I think this is a great representation of who the Kraken is as a character.

The Kraken, outwardly, is seen as the menace of the high seas. He is Blackbeard turned up to 11 and will probably kill/severely maim anyone in his way. This depiction matches perfectly with the first thoughts that come to mind when you hear Lacrimosa; evilness and doom. But he is more than just a heartbroken killer. He is a shell that Ed created to help him survive the brutal pirate world and to protect the fragile emotions inside him. That is where the symbolism of desperation comes in. Ed didn’t want to be the Kraken, we saw him try to cope by writing lyrics and talking it through with Lucius. It’s only when Izzy threatens him does Ed turn to the Kraken as a final resort. Even after he does his whole “I am the Kraken” ordeal, he still hates being the Kraken. He sits and sobs at the lighthouse painting. The Kraken is all an act to protect himself.

The sobbing is obviously connected to the sense of sadness, but also loneliness. Not just because Stede ran away physically, but also because the trust that had been built has been completely shattered. Ed also feels totally alone support-wise. Izzy only wants him to be the idealistic version of himself. The crew seems supportive, and they probably are, but we also see them mock the vulnerable version of himself; Frenchie says “Hey, Eddie, give us another song!” Then they all start chanting his name. Then he maroons most of the crew, tosses Lucius overboard and is no longer left with any sort of support system.

I would love to see an episode open with Blackbeard burning down a merchant ship or whatever, the beginning of Lacrimosa playing in the background to make him seem like some sort of tyrannical overlord of the ship. Only to cut to him crying in his cabin, the softer, almost angelic parts of the song playing as we see him breakdown.

Or something like that, I don’t know, this was a passing thought that turned into a half-baked analysis. For a better look at Lacrimosa in the media I suggest checking out this video because it does a better job than me.

[rookvonhunt]

 🪦 with Mel and Kierron (it's the headstone emoji) or 🏴 with Lucille and Nala

Cracks knuckles since ob isn't a thing in dac

-----

Kierron Khanum

 🪦 For a Situation where my muse dies during the Overblot ( or Reverse)

If you had asked Melanie Charamet who she loved , she wouldn't have admitted it to be the big bad Kierron Khanum.

One would think he'd attack, maim, and even kill during his overblot. But really he stood there weeping for the majority of that battle. Only lashing out when someone neared him. It was a pitiful sight, seeing nothing but a man sobbing while others tried to get to him.

Melanie especially. Calling out to him. In the end she sat with his head on her lap, having already closed his eyes.

She ignored her bleeding wounds from his previous lashing out. Fixated on his appearance. How peaceful he looked. It was the most beautiful he had ever been. To her. With a face that was normally settled into a grimace. The princess didn't even cry when that last breath had left him. Too shocked from the event and her blood loss to do anything.

She could hear people yelling her name, distantly, recognizing it as Song Fenhua as well as Carmine Skab. What was wrong? Let her mourn, she moped to herself. Turning back to Kierron. Though her ears began to ring , and vision blurred. Doubling over . Unconscious.

When she woke, she looked directly into two purple eyes, staring down at her. In too much pain to sit up. But she still did so, in a rush. Wincing in response.

"Empress Bansho-" She wanted to smile, completely in denial of what had happened the day before. Eyes scanning around for her beloved. "Where is he..?"

Sirena took her hands in her own, shaking her head. Letting reality sink in for the princess too often lost in her fantasies.

This wonderland... truly was twisted.

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

among the ruins || ruina rex || self-para

“Do you think they’re dead?” He didn’t have to guess what prompted the question, death had a way of following people even when it didn’t affect them personally. He’d watched the halls of St. Judes grieve a boy they only knew in passing, letters and candles strewn about Peter’s locker after he died. It felt wrong, to grieve someone you never had a connection with, it felt like playing a part in a play, theatrics and nothing else.

Bode sat across from his brother, both seated on the floor of Bode’s suite, legs sprawled towards each other like a pair of daddy long-legs. After Kaiser’s death had been announced Bode booked it to Delma, he had a feeling this death wasn’t going to blow over quietly the way the NWRF was hoping it would. None of the infected were willing to believe Kaiser died of natural causes, and even if they did, what were the chances they would let Kaiser’s death mean nothing to their rebellion? Bode worried if a riot were to break out he’d be too far from Espen to protect him. No. He’d spend the night in his suite, maybe the next few nights until he was certain his brother wouldn’t be in danger. When he got to Espen’s dorm he already had his things packed, eyes wide like a doe’s.

“Do you want me to answer that truthfully or..?” He was unsure if it was the trauma of the day or the reality of their situation finally sinking in but he watched as his brother crumpled in on himself. The next few moments were a quiet blur. Bode rushed to his brother’s side, gently tucking his long limbs in and against his own chest to coddle the weeping boy.

��Lie. I need you to lie, Bee.”

“They’re fine, Pen, everyone’s fine. Mom is probably nursing a scotch, dad’s probably sitting in front of the TV waiting for cricket to come back on. You know those sorry bastards are fine.” He rubs circles on his brother’s back with a free hand, their foreheads pressed tightly together.

“They killed him, didn’t they?” And just like that he echos the words he’s been hearing since their PDD’s went off this morning. The words sunk in his stomach, a wailing siren that wouldn’t shut up. “A-Are they going to kill us t-too?” Terror splintered Espen’s words, terror and heavy sobs that tear through Bode’s metallic heart.

“No one is going to touch you, Pen. You know I would never let anyone hurt you. I don’t care what I have to do, who I have to maim, no one is coming for us. I promise, kid, I promise.” He presses a kiss to the top of his head, a little rougher than he had meant to but Espen leans in all the same. He must know Bode would never let anyone lay a hand on him, he’d sooner resemble a feral animal than let harm come to Espen.

Bode has spent the last three months gathering information, biding his time until it was the right moment to strike, he now sees that moment will never come. It’s act or die. He can’t protect Espen if he ends up dead on some lab tech’s table.

“Bode?”

“Mm?”

“I just want to go home. Can we go home?” He opens his mouth to tell Espen there’s no home to go back to, Lindqvist manor was reduced to rubble after the asteroids fell, but instead he nods his head.

“Okay. Let’s go home, Pen.”

The wall he’s gotten used to blocking him from Espen’s mind was replaced by an open door, the smell of cookies filling his nose. He paints Lindqvist manor to life, crystal chandeliers light the ceilings, velvet chairs are constructed out of thin air, dark warm woods coat the floor and stairs, the halls line up with a familiar set of doors. Home. He coaxes Espen’s memory towards his old room, a navy door with a brass knob pushes open with the ease of the wind. Inside isn’t the furnishings of a teenage room but instead a nursery. Neutral colors, bedding, and vintage decor hung from the walls gave way to the only spot of color in the entire room, a white bassinet with a blue mobile hung above it. He wasn’t sure if it was Espen or him that remembered the gentle tune that used to play from the mobile but it sung now, in both their heads as Bode wiped the last of his brother’s tears from his face.

Bode let the music of their childhood bassinet lull his brother to sleep. It was only after he was certain Espen was asleep that he let the illusion fade. Solid walls fell to ash, furniture once expensive and warm now lay in tatters.

Bode closed his eyes and let himself cry.

[strangeinternetwasteland]

Shattered Reality- Chapter 5

A/N: This chapter explains Gojo and Geto a little more. Y/N goes through a lot mentally.

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, fluff

Word Count: 2.6K

You were thankful for Gojo’s sense of urgency. The moment you uttered those words, he just reacted. You were anxious, scared, and  uncertain. Sure your apartment building wasn’t very big, only three stories, but really other people’s lives were in ashes too. As you were traveling to your probably non-existing apartment, you were filled with dread. Where were you going to go now? You didn’t have any family around, and staying in a motel was going to cost you money you didn’t have.  You groaned externally. How much worse could your life get?  You really didn’t need an answer to that question, because you knew the answer.

    As you debated  your life and whether it was worth living, Gojo grabbed your hand and intertwined his fingers with his. An intimate gesture you’d normally shy away from, but for some reason, you found yourself actually enjoying whatever this was with him. You relaxed a bit. He brought your hand to his lips and kissed your fingers. Each and every single one. He hadn’t spoken a word since leaving his penthouse, but you really could use some sort of positive outlook in this situation.

   As he turned the corner of the street where your apartment was located, you saw the fire engines, and police cars blocking the way. Gojo slowed the SUV, while you untangled your hand from Gojo’s. When he stopped you hopped out of the car and jogged to the scene of it all.

   The fire was quick and intense, but there was virtually nothing left. It wasn’t as painful for you, seeing as you had very little to begin with, but other people’s lives were completely destroyed. You began to weep for them. You fell to your knees and just sobbed. You wish you could erase the last few days. You wanted it to end, all the pain, all the psychological scars, all the loneliness you were feeling.

   Gojo had seen the emotional turmoil you were in. He realized that while the loss for you wasn’t great, for other’s it was more. It was their life. It was everything they owned. He’d do a lot more than burn down an apartment for a lot less. Hell, he did do a lot more for a lot less. It was what he grew up to be, who he was. He did feel an inkling of remorse, but at least nobody died... this time. He couldn’t ignore you or your feelings, he didn’t want to appear selfish or cold. So he did what any good guy did. He would comfort you.

   Gojo wrapped his arms around you as you sobbed. He could play the perfect gentleman, he had been taught well. He knew that Geto’s father preferred him over Geto when it came to playing that role. Geto would grow angry quickly, and lash out just as he did two nights ago on you. As always, Gojo would be the one to clean up any mess Geto left behind. Most times, they could just drug them off and drop them off in the middle of nowhere with little regard for their wellbeing. Not this time though.

   This time it was problematic, you were Kioko’s best friend, and unfortunately, another complication. So Gojo would play the sweet, and kind gentleman who saves the day. Kioko, who was so totally oblivious to the world around her. Gojo did think of her as a little sister, he cared about her. Enough so that he beat one of her ex’s two inches away from death, just because he grabbed her wrist to keep her from walking away.

   Geto was lucky he was  the leader's biological son. Gojo could’ve done so much worse to Geto, and he planned on it. While it was tricky, it was not impossible. That was always the plan all along though. It was always sitting in the back of his mind. Geto was set up to inherit the Nameless, when his father died, which could be at any moment. The only terrible thing that Geto did besides get physical with people, was take photos of all his “prizes” as he referred to them. Photos of the women he’d fuck, maim, or kill. What was surprising was the number of women who were into it. They’d allow him to do whatever he wanted to them, only because it was fun for him. Geto was really fucked up, when Gojo actually thought about it.

   “Gojo, you’re hurting me.” You said to him. Gojo snapped out of his thoughts and back to reality. Gojo released his grip on your shoulder and rubbed the pain away.

   “I am so sorry, Y/N. I was thinking about how awful this must be for you. I was getting upset at how terrible these last few days have been.” He told you as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You leaned into him.You knew that this relationship, if you could call it that, felt good, even if temporary.

   “The good thing here is that no one died.” He told you. You nodded in agreement, and gave him a small smile. You really were thankful you had Gojo to lean on right now.

   “I should really find the officer that called me and talk to him.” You told Gojo. He watched you as you did so.  Thinking on everything .Gojo waited while you talked to the officer. You gave your name and contact info to him. He asked a few questions about your whereabouts, and you answered them honestly.  When the officer turned and saw Gojo he gave him a solemn nod. A secret code between members of Nameless. This was not lost on you, and  you were going to ask him about it. The officer feigned interest, and let you go after a few minutes.

   After talking to a few neighbors and checking in with them. Making sure there wasn’t anything they needed you walked back to Gojo. He took your hand in his as you headed back to his SUV. You warmed at the action, it seemed as if at least one thing was going right in your life.

   “Gojo. I saw you and the officer nod to each other. Is that some sort of secret sign?” You teased him, laughing slightly and the ridiculousness of it.

   “Yes, actually. We’re both in the mafia.” Gojo told you honestly. You laughed at him, thankful for his playful attitude.

   “HA! HA! Very funny.” You said with sarcasm. Gojo was relieved to hear you think it was a joke, but when it came down to it, he could tell you that he was honest and he did tell you at one point. Gojo turned the car around and started heading back to his penthouse. If he had his way, you’d stay there forever, and he will, but he at least needed to act like you had an option.

   “Y/N. I know that everything is really fucked up, right now. I want you to know that you’re more than welcome to stay in my penthouse as long as you’d like.” Gojo offered you. You really hadn’t thought much about it honestly. You would’ve stayed with Kioko, and then you remembered Geto. You decided that you needed to talk to Kioko about Geto, but wasn’t mentally prepared for that. You groaned aloud over the thought.

   “Judging by that, I will take you to a family member if you prefer.” He countered.

   “I don’t have any family, I was going to ask Kioko if I could stay with her, but…” You trailed off. You knew you didn’t need to say anymore. Gojo was with you through it all. You didn’t want to impose him anymore than you already have. Gojo couldn’t have been happier to hear that you didn’t have any family. No one would interfere.

   “Look, if it helps, you can stay in my room, and I can stay in any of the guest beds, or on the couch.” He offered you.

   “What if I want to stay in your bedroom with you?” You asked, trying to be flirty with him. He didn’t say anything in response. He just started the SUV and headed toward home. Unsure of what to say, you texted Kioko. The silence that filled the car was slightly awkward. Gojo put his hand on your knee. Honestly, the thought of just keeping you locked away from Geto, and being able to have you for himself  was incredibly alluring.

   “I was just kidding.” You finally said after a few moments of the unbearable silence.

   “Hm? Kidding about what love?” He asked you, rubbing your leg. It seemed weird to you that he didn’t even listen to a word you said. Like some sort of switch had turned off in his mind. Although, calling you love, was almost impossible to not get excited about.

   “Staying in your bedroom with you.” You said in a small voice. He laughed at this.

   “Oh! Did I not respond to you? I mean, I have expectations of a woman when I am sharing a bedroom with her.” He squeezed your thigh with a lusty look in his eyes.

   “Oh...I don’t mind helping out with cooking, or cleaning.” You told him, not understanding why he was acting so off.

   “I wasn’t talking about cooking or cleaning.” He inhaled sharply as he pulled off into an alleyway. “I was talking about more intimate matters.” His devilish smirk didn’t hide any of his thoughts.

   Gojo’s thoughts were far from his actual actions. He thought that if he could be intimate with you then you’d be more willing to do the things he asked. You were attractive to him sure, but the most appealing thing about you is that you were forbidden. Kioko’s best friend, and wanted by Geto. There was nothing he wanted less right now than intimacy.

   “I-I am flattered Gojo, really. I know I said I wanted to stay with you in your bedroom, but I was just trying to be flirty. I really am not like that.” You admitted feeling foolish.

   Gojo frowned. You were rejecting him. Something that not many women did. Though he had to admit this made you more appealing. He removed his hand from your thigh.

   “My apologies, if I made you uncomfortable in any way. I overstepped my bounds. You already are dealing with so much. I am making it harder for you. If you do wish to stay with me the offer still stands. I will keep my distance from you. If you need anything feel free to ask. Otherwise, if you’d like I can drop you off at Kioko’s, since you're most comfortable with her. I can tell Geto keep his distance, but I cannot guarantee he’d listen to my suggestions.” Gojo’s tone turned cold.

You felt a stab in the chest. The warmth you felt just moments ago. You weren’t sure where you’d want to stay honestly. It was all overwhelming. While you really wanted to keep it all bottled up and suppress it, you felt yourself cracking. You weren’t a desperate person. You didn’t need love or affection, you didn’t seek gratification from people. You put walls up and let no one in. That’s exactly who you were. Why did Gojo’s actions bother you? Why did you exactly want Gojo anyway? Why did you let Geto get away with choking you? Why didn’t you kick his ass? Why? The answer was being screamed into your brain. Because you were weak. It was as simple as that.

Gojo pulled into the parking garage. You couldn’t do it anymore. You broke. You screamed as loud as you could muster. It was high pitched, and eerily reminiscent of the day prior. You felt like you were being tortured. When the screaming stopped, the tears came. You weren’t okay, you were losing it over everything. You wanted to make it all stop, and end it all.

Gojo sat there in the car. While, he really did truly understand this feeling. He was unsure how you wanted to be comforted. He let you scream out all of your frustrations, he knew after the pain, there were tears. After tears, there was emptiness. That changed a person, you either got over it and kept being you, or it changed your whole being.

You began sobbing into your hands. Of course when you truly needed someone there was no one. Kioko never responded to your text. Gojo hated you because you rejected him, and Geto wanted you dead. You were replaceable to everyone. You felt yourself growing angry. Why did it matter if you rejected Gojo? He shouldn’t have gotten mad at you. That’s an asshole thing to do. Gojo, to you, was no better than any other asshole. You felt the anger boiling over. You stared at Gojo, tears streaming down your face.

“You’re nothing but a fucking asshole.” You told him with venom in your voice. You didn’t care how nice he was to you before. It was his fault. Gojo was as unreadable as ever. He didn’t give you any hint of emotion.

“It must be easy for you. To not feel anything. No not give a shit about anyone  other than yourself. To play with people’s emotions! To live in your fortress in the sky looking down on all the people like they’re peasants, for your pleasure.” You screamed at him.

“Anything else you’d like to tell me?” He asked you mockingly. You wanted nothing more than to punch him in his fucking face. There was nothing else that would give you pleasure at this moment.

“No, other than you’re a bitch.” You said as you cocked your arm back and then aimed straight for his nose. He dodged the attack, and took your hand in his. A slightly amused look was on his face.

“Y/N. I understand where you’re coming from.” He told you, but you didn’t believe him.

“Yeah, how could you Mr. Rich asshole, know what it is like to be me? You didn’t grow up poor.” You retorted.

“No. I didn’t. I had all my needs met.” He told you as a matter of factly.

“You know you can go fuck yourself!” You spat at him. Your anger was just exploding. You finally connected your fist to his jaw. Gojo couldn’t believe that you actually ended up punching him. It wasn’t super hard, but he did know it would be sore for a day or two. He knew he’d been egging you on. He knew that you needed to release everything you felt. He didn’t mind being the one you took it out on.

Your face turned from anger to horror as you realized what had you happened, what you had done. You backed up as far as you could, which wasn’t that far. You feared what Gojo would do to you. You fumbled looking for the door handle trying to escape as quickly as possible. Again there was no emotion on Gojo’s face, he turned getting out of the car, and walked around the car. He was opening your door, when you fell back slightly. The only thing on your mind was to run. Your fear was at an all time high. You got out of the car, shut the door, and turned to run.

Gojo placed a hand  on your arm, squeezing slightly, and pulling you into him. You were unsure of why he would act like this. You didn’t want to have anything to do with him, and he didn’t want anything to do with you, you were sure. He wrapped both arms around you, and whispered.

“You’re okay. You’re safe.” You didn’t want to believe him, and yet, you believed him. He hugged you for a moment longer and grabbed your hand pulling along with him inside to his penthouse. You felt completely empty.

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