#anon HATRED anon RAGE anon LOATHING

[pro-crastinate17]

hey maxim!!!!! i hope youre NOT having a good day!!!!!!!!! i hate you like a nemesis hates their nemesis!!!!! RAAAAAAAAH HAVE A BAD DAY RAAAAHHHHHHHH

(did i do good? ive never written a hate letter before i wanna know)

from your cool nemesis, roy/cornard

RAAAAAAAAHH i DESPISE you i LOATHE you!!! i hope you are having the most DREADFUL MISERABLE day of ALL TIME!!!!!!

(you did so good!! your hatred emanates from my screen and turns the air into poison gas (complimentary))

from your cool nemesis, maxim!!

[barbatosgossipsection]

Before MC came along (ie: before Diavolo started the exchange program)

Lucifer, Mammon, Asmo, and Beel would have dated around and/or had flings. Lucifer would have had occasional one-night-stands (half of which he had when wine drunk, lbr) but probably not any serious, committed long term relationships. Mammon and Asmo are both partyboys and manwhores and they both absolutely slept around like crazy. Mammon stopped after falling for MC but Asmo would probably keep up that lifestyle until he was specifically asked to stop by his partner - unless MC was into it too and they had an open relationship. Beel is the quintessential handsome jock and he's canonically popular at RAD (he's literally the "star quarterback" stereotype) and popular with women. He definitely fucks.

Then meanwhile, Levi, Satan, and Belphie wouldn't have ever had any kind of relationships or dating experience at all, before meeting MC. Definitely 100% virgin-coded and no I will not be taking questions. Levi is self-explanatory, he literally tells us in the game that he loathes normie couples and he's allergic to socializing with people. Biggest shut-in nerd virgin stereotype you've ever met. Then Satan and Belphie were both filled with way too much anger, hate, and bitterness to have ever been interested in getting close with other people. Satan was able to cover his rage and hatred up with fake smiles and he could charm people if he needed to, but no WAY he was interested in sleeping with anyone before MC came along. And Belphie wouldn't have even bothered putting on a fake persona like Satan. He just didn't want to go to the effort. He doesn't even care about being awake, let alone being in a relationship. Neither of them would have ever had sex before meeting MC.

And that's my Power Point presentation on which of the demon brothers fucked and which of the demon brothers were loser nerd virgins before meeting MC.

— Anon

[rottenpumpkin13]

Let me be delusional please, my fragile heart needs this. We know that the remnants are part of Sephiroth, Kadaj is hatred and rage, Loz is physical strength and speed, and Yazoo is charisma and his aloof demeanor. But what if there aren't three remnants, there are four of them, but the fourth one is a bit "special".

The fourth is child Sephiroth, S-1, the kid is Sephiroth's innocence and pain.

Obviously, Sephiroth resents this weak, pathetic thing. Just the idea of having to look at S-1 makes him seethe in disdain look at how powerless he used to be, such thing is not worthy of Mother's love so Sephiroth just leaves S-1 in the Lifestream and lets Gaia do the work for him, this Planet and him have one thing in mutual is that they both loath each other, Gaia is too much of a coward to take the risk of letting some part of the Calamity's son roaming in the Lifestream, no matter how weak or harmless it seems to be.

To be fair, he is right about the last part. The Planet first wants to dissolve S-1 and be done with it, however, Aerith doesn't agree with them. At first, she was not sure what to do with S-1, she pitied the child that is for sure, but all in all, the poor child is still part of The enemy of the Planet, and Gaia can be very stubborn when it comes to anything related to the Calamity. But Zack... Gaia, Zack looks devastated when he takes the first look at his old friend, or at least what is left of him. He doesn't try to persuade her to save the child, he knows how unfair it would be for her since it was Sephiroth's blade is the thing that led her to her demise, but she knows how badly Zack wants to save S-1. Zack still feels guilty about what happened in the Nibelheim reactor, despite Aerith's continuous reassurance that is not his fault, he claims that he should have done more, he could have saved thousands of lives, and most importantly, Sephiroth wouldn't have lost his mind.

Saving the child probably would heal the Nibelheim-reactor wound in Zack so for Zack's sake, she negotiates with Gaia.

(Part of her feels sorry for Sephiroth, the man is doomed from the second he was born. He was born broken and never got the chance to save himself. Maybe by saving S-1, the deceased hero maybe can finally find a small bit of peace.)

I struggle at first to think of the name for the fourth one since I don't want to use Sephiroth. But then I remembered that all the pain and suffering of Sephiroth comes from the Jenova Project, what name fits more than S-1? English is not my first language so no matter how I want to write this idea into a fic, I can't lol, best I can do is write some small bit. This idea was actually inspired by an ask from anon to Alto but I forgot which one sorry, I just remember that they said they feel sorry for Sephiroth, and honestly? Same, I wish him to have a happier life in another world because there is no chance for him to have that in FF7 when even death refuses him.

WAIT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT? I'M INVESTED 😭

This is such a perfect idea ughhhhhhhh I want to read a version of this where they send him to Cloud and Tifa—after Advent Children—so that they can raise and take care of him. Imagine everything being over and done with, and then a much younger version of Sephiroth shows up at their door.

*screams into the void* I love this so much it's killing me 💗

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Rgrgh Ok, the last one! This was super fun to do with you! I can't wait to see how the platonic yans seeing all their kids again is gonna play out.

So knowing how Raven is, I imagine she'd be similar to Hank in the sense of her change, she becomes grim, hollow in a sense. She doesn't act the same around the other kids, and she's quieter. Her guilt guides her to a dark part of herself, she might be be good at hiding it sometimes, but it can't be helped, two of her kids are gone, and she made sure that those parasites died in terror, knowing that what they'd done to them, their actions decided the next course of events.

I feel she might be the one to have the most doubts about whether this was what their kids would've wanted, divided on if they'd approve or not, if they were here, they might've liked the peace and calm, but what they had done to achieve it... but they aren't here, thats the point isn't it? All of this, they'd done for them, and her other children aren't fairing very well either, they have a hard time grasping with the fact that they'd not only lost their friends, but their siblings too, nothing could be done or said to fix it.

Lamb Anon

I'm enjoying this too, 🐑 Anon!!!😊 Of course, once you've read this, I want to know... Who are your top three, out of the seven platonic yan adults, you would like the most as Reader's parent? (I said three because I figure it would be hard to choose just one person, and I myself have my favorites, but I want to hear your thoughts as well😊)

Raven had seen better days.

The feelings inside her... they hurt. They feel poisonous, venomous, dangerous.

The ones who caused them find out how it feels in full.

They'd taken them.

It wasn't fair.

Punishment was given, sharp and stinging and drowning in red. It was only fair. They'd- she- had lost someone. Multiple someones. And there was a price to pay. The problem was... who was paying that price, ultimately? The writhing, bleeding parasites, who caused this whole disaster? Their masters, their bosses, who were soon brought to heel and forced to resign, then joined them in death? The people, fearful and anxious, soon made to accept this new peace? The mutants, who now had the peace, but at a price? Or... perhaps it was them, who lost their children... Or still...

Their children who paid that price... Each and every bleeding drop of it. They would never know the peace they'd made because of them, the peace they made for them, and others like them... They wouldn't be with them, to joke or fight or laugh or cry.... They were simply...

Gone.

And it is a hollow feeling, with a hollow reward.

She'd lost a child that day, only to find out it wasn't one. It was two.

Her two flesh and blood children, both gone, one bleeding profusely and faded before anything could be done, the other quick to follow and crying, for all of them...

Reader had been her's. And she never knew. They never knew. And that would never be known outside of their group, because the only others they'd share it with were gone, cold and buried and resting. She does her best, to be there for her remaining child. For the other children. But most days all she feels is a bitter, burning bile inside her. A venom to be used against their enemies. A weapon that keeps others in line. She accepts what comfort is given... but it doesn't do much besides justify their actions.

They'd lost their own. And that was unforgivable.

Her daughter, Rogue, doesn't fare much better. She can sense the bitterness, the guilt, inside her. She's her mother; she knows this the same way she senses it in all the others.

Self-hatred. Loathing. Guilt. Anger. And always that burning, righteous rage, that helped bring about the world they now know.

What they've done... she doubts they would understand. But it doesn't matter if they would understand it or not. The way things were before allowed their fates to be sealed, to be carried out. Now, it would never happen again.

So, no. Maybe it isn't right. Maybe it's wrong. But it is a necessary evil, one that has only kept safe those who've suffered, those who would have met their fate eventually. So even if it's wrong, it is better this way...

(She'll miss them: she always will. But for now, she has to uphold the new world, the new order, they've made. And even if it's hard, even if it makes them wrong... Then that is a price they'll pay, if only to stop the past from happening all over again...)

[bluerose5]

something with Astarion/Fenris pls? maybe Astarion managing to bring out Fenris' softer side in a vulnerable moment?

Anon, idk if this is what you wanted or expected, and I'm more than happy to do another try at something fluffier if you want, but I see these two butting heads a lot. I can make it work, though! But I wanted to stay true to that tension & conflict I imagine between the two.

...

Even though Astarion's thirst for power tested Fenris’s patience more often than not, confronting Cazador had proven to be that key moment in their relationship where everything made perfect sense.

Cazador reeked of the same arrogance that Danarius once embodied. They flaunted their power over others. They reveled in it.

Astarion had gotten so close to becoming the one thing he loathed more than anything else, but Fenris found that he felt more empathy than judgment towards Astarion after meeting Cazador. After all, was Fenris not in that exact same situation himself, once upon a time? Did he not see power as a means of destroying his former master, of taking control of his life once and for all?

Did he himself not succumb to a demon's tricks while in the Fade for that exact reason?

Out of everyone, Fenris knew better than most what Astarion was going through, and that was why Fenris believed that he had to be the one to intervene.

He had been there to all but shout him down when the moment was right. He didn't back down. He told Astarion that he would neither plead nor beg with him, but that he also wouldn't hesitate to cut him down where he stood if he thought for a moment that Fenris would help him with that accursed ritual.

Luckily, his approach somehow managed to work.

Astarion got to kill Cazador, but Fenris—

Fenris felt so much rage, so much hatred.

The way Cazador talked to Astarion hit way too close to home.

He wanted nothing more than to kill the bastard himself, over and over again, to rip out his heart just as he did Danarius's, but he refrained. For Astarion's sake, if nothing else.

That was his moment, not Fenris’s.

Yet that didn't stop the sudden onslaught of emotions from hitting him the second they returned to Elfsong Tavern.

He paced the length of their floor, muttering to himself.

As soon as his form started to phase in and out of existence, a hand touched his arm in an attempt to ground him back to reality.

Fenris turned abruplty on his heel, only to stare down into bright red eyes.

Astarion stared up at him in return, exhausted, both of them soaked in blood.

Then, he said, "It's over."

His words rang with a note of finality.

All Fenris could see when he looked at him was the elf who cried when he was finally free.

"Yes," Fenris whispered with a lone nod. "It's over."

He didn't know which of them took the first step.

Before he knew it, they were both holding onto each other as if their lives depended on it. Their hug tightened, Fenris burying his face into Astarion's sticky, bloody hair while his shoulders hitched with quiet sobs.

When they managed to pull away, Fenris stuck close, resting his forehead against Astarion's as their eyes locked once again.

He cupped his cheeks, his thumbs brushing along underneath his eyes.

"They won't ever hurt us again," Astarion murmured. He rested his hands atop Fenris’s with a gentle squeeze.

"Never again," Fenris agreed.

[truegoist]

stop acting like you know everything you’re fucking stupid and your writing sucks ass go kill yourself you retard

Anon I know that you probably feel like the majority if not all of the people around you(including your parents) don’t like you actually which makes you avoid them more and more everyday to not fail or disappoint them more and make them hate you more than they think you do

and cause of your pitiful self isolation to not face others you become lonelier day by day and with the lack of affection and someone to listen to you your self hatred and anger only grows that you take on random people online instead of facing yourself (arguably because you’re scared that you’re in the wrong all along) making yourself believe that it’s because something they said or did

but taking your anger out on random people online (and especially ones that won’t take you seriously like me) won’t help with your self loathing and rage. You may think people around you don’t get your feelings so listening to them is pointless but humans get eachother better than you think and I think it’s time for you to try to actually improvise your life

[fritzyshippy]

I actually have more fnaf characters I’m not fond of besides my f/oe including one that I can’t even bring myself to put as an f/oe

The others are just an annoyance

I haven’t gotten to his part of the dlc or read his story. My hatred is intense enough to where I can’t get myself to read up on him. I don’t fucking care if I get details wrong.

And the piece of shit is getting a fucking game despite being nothing really.

The thing with mxes is that I hate him I really do

But it’s in a love to hate way. You know.

Like if someone spewed genuine actual rage fueled hatred towards him I’d tell them to chill

Fritzny doesn’t even despise him as much. He finds it irritating people once mistook him for his master and considers him a bad looking version of him

But he finds it fun as hell to mess with him

And of someone else started legit hurting him in a non cartoony way he’d fucking hurt them back and tell them to back off from mx.

I’m not going to say the character that I truly loathes name

But I don’t even find it fun to hate him

I have nothing but pure burning hatred for him and wish he was never created period because he’s poorly done in my eyes

I don’t speak on it though because he has fans

And I don’t want to start shit with them or upset them because I hate a favorite or an f/o of theirs

I can tell anyone who comes off anon who it is and do it privately though

[msfbgraves]

Lmao, all this sudden hatred of Terry and his slip up in your fanfiction takes me back way back to 2002 when the Brits made a mini TV series of the Russian classic, Doctor Zhivago. Yuri, the main character, cheats on his lovely, angelic wife Tonya (who he has cute kids with too) with “the slut” Lara. It was a loose adaptation and just okay, but I remember it especially because of the supreme rage comments the cheating got, especially from internet crusaders and trolls. Lara of course got the brunt of it since she’s always been one of literature’s most loathed characters (also because she’s the other woman). 

But the scene that really riled people was when Tonya was giving birth, and nurse Lara helps her—and Tonya realizes that she’s been fucking her husband Yuri. It’s a really awful and hurtful scene and the keyboard warriors had a field day with it back in the day on Y*utube. It was just the final straw for them. Even millions dying in the Russian Revolution and the Gulags didn’t bother them as much. But the cheating—HELL NO! 

I believe it hits a little too close to home. Very few people are afraid their partners may become involved in the mob or the Russian Gulag, but cheating - that could happen! And the Anon asking must have thought it was a possibility, or else why ask? I could have shut that down by "Alphas in their Nature never cheat", but I have already established that Nature isn't absolute. Amanda doesn't 'act' like an omega at all. Some people feel Daniel is not submissive enough for the trope. Well then - isn't it possible for Terry to go against the Alpha nature? If the rule was set in stone in this verse a tempting would never even occur. That would be like tempting a human with a delicious plate of the greenest, freshest spring grass. Useless. Humans don't eat grass. But since Anon already thinks Terry might be tempted, why not explore the possibility? I am demonstrably not the only one who thinks it could happen. And yes, it happens the one time, because Terry thinks he can have a bit of bachelor life back, and immediately realises that no, oh God, no, this actually recommits him to his love completely, and Daniel does not even know it happens, that's suddenly unforgivable? Not what he did for Daniel to actually leave? (Though people are reexamining that mess too!) but a drunken fling that makes him understand how deeply he actually loves his mate? That's what set people off?

There seem to be roughly, two kinds of flavours people want to see for this fic. Many want to see the happy times, yes. But there's also a lot of people constantly coming back to their angsty side. Which is legit. This whole fic is two people working through the fact that their love is built on an act of violence, a violence they have to transform. And this, one, terrible crisis - people have kept picking at that scab in asks. To the discomfort of people wanting the good times. Still, maybe it's easier to not dwell on if you are not afraid you will ever get in the position where edgy but good lovemaking (that people also keep asking for), tips into a bad experience. I can tell you that line in and of itself can also be very thin. Still, maybe that does not feel very immediate. But it surprises me that many people seem to realise that this is what happened between them - all the sexy, edgy, dangerous passion tipping into actual danger mid lovemaking - only when I introduced a danger people can relate to. It seems to put it into terms that hit home.

To me, a drunken, angry fling during a visceral fight is far less damning than what actually happened in the lead up to it. So I was like: "Ah, well, if people can handle that, they'll understand about the cheating."

Guess not!

To me it felt like a possible very ugly outcome of the basis of their marriage. This marriage was Daniel being used to neutralise this side of Terry and he has. But that doesn't mean that side of him is dead. And it came back up and I feel that it is a testament to Daniel's strength and the strength of the love they both built that this could be a litmus test of their bond. This is a betrayal that Daniel will not tolerate and it is really up to Terry now to choose who he is going to be: the one who would hurt Daniel to soothe his ego or the one that would let himself be changed, actually changed, by his love for him?

But you know, people can be self righteous in these scenarios. It's still too easy for Terry to rationalise that he may have been 'in the right' as the Alpha. He already feels he's not, actually, before he cheats, but he's still angry at all the LaRussos, and Daniel for "giving him a hard time". It's the cheating that finally makes it click - this is what I'm risking. This is what I've done. This is so much deeper than my ego and if I have to take my ego out of it, what remains is that I've done something utterly monstrous.

And I have to make amends. Actual amends.

[sporadiclilbook]

We need more Childe and Zhongli. And better both at once! Your events are just beautiful, I love them!

This one was a little tricky but I hope you liked it anon!

Yan!Zhongli and Yan!Childe snapping

"Little one, what have I told you about.......going against the rule of our shared contract?" Zhongli lifted up your chin to gaze you in the eyes that was filled with a subtly hidden rage. Childe was behind you with a grin that you practically could felt. Oh how you wish you can flay it off his face. You loathed this situation these 2 men has trapped you in.

It all happened so quickly. One moment you were just a random nobody in the Ministry of Civil Affairs and the next you find yourself being slowly imprisoned by the Fatui Harbinger and the Funeral Assistant. A part of you blame yourself for not seeing the signs but it was too late for regret now.

"Now now sweetheart, answer the question." Childe's voice was full of mockery as usual. Probably because he was the one who caught you trying to get away this time. He placed both of his hands on your shoulder to snap you out of your thoughts. He know he didn't need to but he did anyway.

You took a deep breath before answering your captors "I don't want to be a part of this contract of yours anymore....I am sick of it." You averted your eyes, not wishing to look at Zhongli in the eyes. You could hear Childe sigh but there was only eerie silence on Zhongli's part.

Knowing how serious he takes these contracts, he must be seething and disappointed right now.

"(Y/N), look at me." You remained the same, closing your eyes even as some sort of rebellion act. Zhongli clicked his tongue in annoyance at this act "Look. At. Me. (Y/N)." Begrudgingly you complied. Finally looking at him in his golden irises with unfiltered hatred. He sighes as you finally complied.

"Since you keep breaking the rules of our contract. Childe and I have decided to-" Before he could finish, you interrupted him "Our contract? If anything it's only yours and his! I was forced to accept it if anything."

"But you accept didn't you?" You breath hitched in shock as you feel Childe's breath on your ear. He was closer to you than he was before now. "After all, we're doing this for you." Your heart was threatening to break free from your ribcage as your hear rate increases. He chuckled when he senses your discomfort, or rather, your fear.

"Trust me, I love it when you act rebellious but I must say, I'm getting tired of it. And so does Zhongli." The tone of his voice was lower this time. More intimidating. A sign for you to stop your 'nonsense' or else. "Perhaps it's time for us to be more stricter." Zhongli decided, thinking they have been too soft on you. Childe hummed in approval when he hears him say it.

"True, we've been too soft on you. Fortunately, we do have something on my mind." He chimed more. Your heartbeat was faster as if you had run a marathon. Just what is it that they planned? Part of you hoped it was death but you knew that wasn't the case.

You would pray to the Archons to save you but unfortunately even he is into this

[addictedtostorytelling]

Hi! In 7.14, Sara looked pretty distraught while she and Brass interrogated Jesse, who killed his mom after she put him up for adoption. Do you think the case kind of… had an effect on her? Jesse was in the system and obviously went through trauma due to his mother. It might be a stretch but do you think it was one of the episodes that built up towards her departure in the future (and her eventually kinda patching things up with her mom)?

hi, anon!

this experience is one that i think she definitely reflects back on once she does decide to leave vegas and reunite with her mom.

that said, i believe it's probably more of a justification for than a catalyst of her decision.

here’s how i figure:

certainly, this case affects sara strongly in the moment, as do most cases involving current or former foster children, and especially those with strained relationships with their biological parents.

whenever sara looks at a current/former foster child who is either the victim or perpetrator of a violent crime, she probably thinks, "there but for the grace of god go i."

in particular, jesse's line from the end of the episode probably hits a little too close to home for her: "don't tell me i have a mother, because i don't. i never did. and i never will."

sara definitely knows that feeling, not in the sense of being abandoned since infancy, like jesse was, but rather in the sense that even though she lived with laura during her early years, laura was never really a mother to her in terms of providing for her needs and making her feel cared for and safe; she had too many issues to really parent sara in the way that sara so desperately craved.

i also think sara can relate to jesse with regards to his dual love and hatred for his mother, which is something she talks about at the end of episode 05x21 "committed" within the context of adam trent; while she would never be violent toward laura in the same ways that jesse is and adam wants to be toward their mothers, she understands what it's like to feel such conflicted emotions for one's parent(s).

on the one hand, sara retains a lot of rage for her mother, who was supposed to nurture and shield her when she was young and helpless but failed to (and indeed eventually herself became a major source of pain in sara’s life). on the other hand, even after so many years and so many disappointments, there is still some part of her that would give anything to have her mother swoop in and embrace her and tell her everything will be all right.

she gets the self-loathing that comes from this kind of internal conflict, as well as the disturbing thought patterns.

honestly, that's what probably fucks her up the most in this situation: her awareness that even though she would never take the same actions jesse has, she can understand why he did what he did.

—and that's where i think her distraught look comes in.

it's triggering for her, coming into contact with fractured parent-child relationships in general, but especially in this case, where she feels empathy for the killer.

his parting words haunt her, as in many ways she sees herself in him.

so.

all of the above said, i don't know if after the initial gut-punch wears off she thinks about this case much in the weeks and months that follow, but i do imagine that while she's on the plane to san francisco a year later, she probably hears jesse's words echoing in her mind and ponders whether or not it's going to be possible for her to move past her trauma and "have a mother" in a way he never could.

while this case may not be “the straw that breaks the camel’s back” in terms of actually getting her to leave vegas and go see her mother in the first place, it’s likely something that she looks back on retroactively and thinks, “this is just another example of why i need to address these issues in my life once and for all. i don’t want to be this way anymore. i don’t want to have to carry these kinds of thoughts and feelings around with me forever.”

thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.

[pro-crastinate17]

LOOK AT YOU STEALING ANOTHER ONE OF MY INTERESTS!!!!!!!! HOW DARE YOU YOUVE TAKEN ENOUGH FROM ME YOU PATHETIC LITTLE THIEF *picks you up by the scruff of your neck like a cat and throws you into a pool*

WAAAAAAAAAUUUUUGGHHHH it was my interest FIRST!!!!!!!! you can pry Descendants from my COLD DEAD HANDS!!!!!!!!! *drags you into the pool after me!!!!!!*

[victorsandvanquishers]

I love your fics! For prompts, maybe 'Bodyguard' with Yuno and Asta? Platonic or romantic, either is fine!!

Hello, Anon! Thank you for requesting this prompt with Yuno and Asta, as I’ve been itching to explore their emotions related to the current events in the manga. Their relationship is platonic in this fic, and there is some slight Asta/Liebe in the background because I enjoy spreading propaganda. It is canon-compliant until the end. Please enjoy this sadfic with gusto! (͡ ͡° ͜ つ ͡͡°)

~~

Asta seeks him out the night before they're due to leave for the invasion. It's a knee-jerk reaction. One minute he's writing a letter to Father Orsi and the family back home while Liebe naps on their bed, and the next moment, he's pulling a blanket over his demon companion before making haste to Yuno's room down the hall. He forgets to knock.

He finds Yuno reading.

There are dark circles underneath his eyes, but they're not from the remnants of late nights and too much stress. These are different. They remind him of Nero's eyes, a mixture of exhaustion and dread, coupled with the usual stress, a sprinkle of agony, and a whole lot of self-loathing.

It's not like he's forgotten about Yuno's pain. He knows it all too well, and yet, he can't help but frown at the the wall between them, the one that's erected itself over the past few days. One one side is Yuno's thirst for vengeance, while the other has Asta striving for vindication. They're only a few months from becoming adults under the eyes of the law, and when that happens, he knows the wall will only stretch taller and wider. Soon they'll be on opposite sides and walking away from each other, because that's what happens when you grow up. It's what happens you grow apart.

But Asta persists.

He doesn't bother asking, just walks over, pulls the sitting man into a hug, and holds on.

Asta will always admit that there isn't much going on in his brain. It's not a self-deprecating thought, merely an observation that also happens to be one of the key factors behind why he does what he does. In the hierarchy of talents, there's mana, then there's scholarly intellect, and finally brute strength. Asta knows that if you have all three, you're as good as king.

Captain Fuegoleon has all three. Yuno has two, and Asta doesn't doubt he'll get his biceps eventually, but Asta only has one.

In a way, there's only ever been three ways to go – to stay home and become a farmer, to leave and become a domestic worker, or the third option, to reject every social norm instilled into his community, and work towards a different, even better future.

Asta chose the third option, and that's why he's holding Yuno now. Because there isn't much in his head, and there's no mana in his core, so his brute strength will have to do. His strength will have to ground Yuno, will have to steady and hold him in place before something bad happens. His strength will have to persist, because this wall can't win. It can't tear them apart like it's torn apart Nacht and his family apart, like it's tore Mr. Finral and his younger brother apart.

Asta won't let it – and he won't let Yuno lose himself in the process.

“You're suffocating me,” Yuno says, voice muffled by Asta's well-built chest.

“Hmph!” He enunciates, and tightens his hold. Yuno gets the hint this time, maneuvers his head so his cheek is flat against Asta's chest, and broods silently as Asta grips him even tighter.

They stay that way for almost five minutes, Yuno brooding against Asta's chest, eyes watching nothing and everything at the same time, while Asta focuses on holding Yuno, focuses on the bright lamp on Yuno's table, the book on magic theory turned to a chapter on manifesting spirits. It's only after Yuno's shoulders slacken and his breathing becomes even that Asta finally starts to loosen his hold. They stay that way for another five minutes, both their breaths even and steady, their spines languid, and their voices silent.

“The Father won't like it if you go in angry,” Asta says after a long while. “You won't be able to think clearly. You'll make mistakes, then get angrier, and make even more mistakes.”

“And since when have you ever listened to the Father?” Yuno whispers, scathingly soft.

Asta doesn't flinch. There's a lot of steel where there should be mana. “Yeah, but you've never disobeyed him.”

“And this isn't just cause?” Yuno challenges.

“It's just for you to wanna rescue your captain... but it's not just for you to go in with hatred in your heart.”

The brute strength Asta knows Yuno has hidden beneath the folds of his uniform finally makes an appearance when Yuno shoves Asta away.

Asta only stumbles back a few steps, but those few steps may as well be a mile. He's in awe, of course, and hurt. He's seen Yuno this angry before, but anger had been mixed with anguish and helplessness that night Asta got the shit kicked out of him by the drunken thief. This time, Yuno's anger bubbles with shame and disgust.

It's written all over his face. The dark circles, the hollow look in his eyes, the disheveled hair and crumpled uniform – it's unlike the Yuno he's grown up with, and yet, it's still him

“Get out,” Yuno tells him, deadly soft.

It's not a request; it's a demand. There's a lot Asta doesn't understand, and he accepts that he'll never understand those things, but this isn't one of them. Asta understands rage. He understands helplessness. He understands what shame can do when unchecked. He's had over a decade to build a backbone and grow thick enough skin to take abuse of any kind with a smile. Because Asta knows – hatred doesn't answer a single question. It fuels nothing but itself. It doesn't resolve conflict, and it doesn't leave a good taste in anyone's mouth.

Asta knows, because he's spent his entire life reminding himself that being angry is the most useless thing this world has to offer.

“I can't send Father Orsi my letter until I know you're OK,” Asta tells him, his face stretching into a big smile. “So I'll send it after we're back – after we've rescued our captains.”

“How can you pretend like it's all gonna be OK when your life is on the line?” Yuno seethes, his voice rising with every word, incredulity etched on his face like a badly drawn picture. “This doesn't end with Spade, Asta. It doesn't end even when we get back! There's still that bloody messenger sitting at our church with our Father and our Sister, and then there's that demon who's sleeping in your bed, and your arm! Have you looked in the fucking mirror, Asta? Do you think this ends just because you say so?”

Yuno's burning with rage, alive with the kind of insidiousness Asta remembers seeing in Mars, in Patolli, in Liebe.

“Yeah,” he tells his friend, his family. “Because I say so.”

Yuno closes his mouth and clenches his teeth, and just then, Belle appears in front of Asta and looks him dead in the eye.

“Leave,” she tells him.

“Just a minute,” Asta says politely, because this is Belle, Yuno's elemental companion, and he'll treat her with the respect she deserves, even if she hates him.

He shifts his head so that he's looking at Yuno again, who's still burning bright with his hatred. His grimoire floats next to him, ready to use, as if Asta's the enemy.

Asta can't but keep smiling, eyes brimming with warmth and love and all the little things that still matter. “I'll be there by your side every step of the way. I won't let you do anything stupid, Yuno; I promise you. I'll bring you home so that I won't even have to send a letter. We can just go straight home after we rescue them. We ca-”

“What you can do is respect that I outrank you, and leave before I make you leave.”

And Yuno means it, because Belle has flown to his side and merged with his body, a sickly shade of green pulsating with raw, unfiltered mana.

“I'll be right beside you,” Asta promises again, before turning around, and exiting the room.

*

Liebe counts his heartbeats while Asta counts the ceiling beams. It's late, and they should be sleeping, but they're not. Liebe counts his heart beats, while Asta counts the beams, Liebe's head against Asta's chest, Asta's eyes on the dark wood up above, Liebe's arm draped over Asta's torso, while Asta has one hand underneath his head while the other holds Liebe close.

Liebe doesn't say anything, but he listens intently, taps one sharp claw against Asta's shirt with every beat of his heart, while Asta stares up, counts the beams, thinks about Yuno.

“You can't stop him,” Liebe says finally. “He's gonna do what he's gonna do.”

“He's my best friend, and I'll be by his side the entire way. I'm not gonna let him fall.”

Liebe sighs. “It's not about falling; it's about accepting. People change, and sometimes, not in the direction we hope for.”

“But it's not about change,” Asta argues. “It's about our values, what the Father taught us. It's not... worth it. To get caught up in negative feelings – I can't accept it.”

Liebe stiffens but doesn't stop tapping his claw, doesn't stop counting Asta's heartbeats. Instead, he just laughs, dry and hollow. “I'll be there when you do,” he hums, snuggling closer to Asta's chest.

“I won't,” Asta sniffs with a pout before kissing the top of Liebe's head and finally drifting off to sleep.

*

When they arrive at the Spade monarchs' castle the following morning, it's Asta who turns back on his word, it's Asta who turns the wall into a prison, a prison that cages him and separates him from everyone else, including Yuno. It's Asta who forgets his values, because it's Asta who charges for Dante with his sword brandished, his mouth in a snarl, his hatred pulsating throughout his core as Yami Sukehiro's head rots on a wooden pike at the entrance of the castle.

It's Asta who has to see it to believe it.

Yuno's right, it doesn't end.

And it never will.

*

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

Maybe I'm just imagining things but I feel like there's something so profoundly sad about Jonathan in Year One, even moreso than other versions of him. He acts all cold, detached and clinical but there's something about the way he talks and the words he uses and those occasional emotional outbursts that makes me feel like there's a lot of rage, self-loathing and deep sorrow inside him. He doesn't act like a man who snapped, he acts like a man who gave up.

You’re right anon. I think he repressed a lot of his childhood, he perhaps hates himself for putting up with all that pain for so long. And maybe some of that hatred stems from Great Granny’s horrible teachings. Perhaps there’s some internalized homophobia too? I feel like a lot of people who grow up in a restrictive environment turn out to be gay or trans, and they end up hating themselves because that’s how they were taught.

This is a really insightful take, and I thank you for sharing it with me. You have some really good points. Lots of repressed feelings in this Crane, for sure.

[vulturhythm]

1/2 I have an angsty idea (BTW, this is Tristan and Iseult anon - I'm so flattered you wanted to give me a nickname! If you still want to, Skyleen is good since that's what I've been using on AO3). Anyway, my idea isn't too unique from what you've already posted because what you do you do so well and I like it so much). It revolves around Jaskier being horribly sick/poisoned and Geralt desperately trying to find a cure - maybe it's something specific, like a near-extinct herb or the heart of

... heart of the beast that originally poisoned him, but in any case it's really hard to get and Geralt has to go on a lot of dangerous journeys in search of it. Meaning he has leave Jaskier behind (it's a conveniently prolonged illness). And he keeps failing. He keeps going out on any tips, even the most unlikely, brutalizing himself for a few days/weeks trying to kill monsters/please mages/bribe kings/capture demons or whatever he thinks he needs to do, but he always comes home empty handed...

... and Jaskier's always sicker, weaker, worse when he comes back. He'll spend a few days with him, caring for him, loving him, pleading with him to stay strong, before preparing to head out again. And eventually Jaskier realizes nothing is going to work. Even if Geralt did find something, the illness has progressed so far it wouldn't do any good. So he asks Geralt to stop. Stop hunting, stop risking his own life, stop leaving and just stay with him until the end. And Geralt can't.

Can't give up, can't face losing Jaskier, can't accept (what he sees as) Jaskier losing faith in him. So he goes out again, and again. Eventually, the disease and despair break at Jaskier until he clings, begs Geralt not to leave him, and Geralt does anyway, using his greater strength to remove Jaskier's hands from his arms, clothes, hair, Jaskier's cries echoing worse than any curses from Blaviken. On the last trip, he finds the cure. Having lost his horse to some calamity, he *runs* back...

... to Jaskier, full tilt, past even a witcher's stamina and returns to wherever they've been holed up incoherent with exhaustion and fear. Is he too late? What do you think? (Also, thank you for writing such lovely angst! I think it's the best way to get the love out).

thank you so, so much for sending me this beautifully tragic idea! i do hope this is up to your standards.

- - - - -

i won’t let you die

sorceresses are wretched things.

this is an opinion geralt has formed over a fucking century of enduring their treachery and their torment and their taunting, all the times he’s fallen into bed with one be damned. those times were fucking meaningless when compared to the love he found in jaskier.

meaningless, worthless, pointless - and now, looking back, he fucking hates himself for them.

he hates himself, for it was a sorceress whose rage when denied geralt’s aid in the coup of a crumbling kingdom was unmatched - whose rage led her to curse the bard at geralt’s side, merely fucking standing there, not even doing a damn thing.

he wasn’t doing a goddamn thing.

geralt is snarling, spitting, cursing, demanding an explanation, a cure -

the sorceress drops dead, an arrow through her skull, shot from the ramparts of the castle ahead, and, well.

geralt knows when he isn’t welcome.

he pulls jaskier away, runs from the city square, pulls his bard along through the seething, screaming, rioting crowd.

-

at first, geralt thinks the curse was maybe just as simple as the little rash that pops up on jaskier’s skin within they hour, as they walk away and leave the kingdom behind.

(it will be decimated by week’s end.)

he learns quickly he is wrong when jaskier doubles over and vomits on the trail.

there’s blood amongst the bile.

geralt’s heart seizes.

-

he pushes roach hard, hard, hard to the next town over, one where the healer and the mage are one and the same.

“it’s a disease,” the man tells them, and there’s sympathy in his eyes and something sort of like relief in jaskier’s, but - “and it’s one that can’t be cured.”

geralt knows he can never forget the fear that crossed jaskier’s face.

worse, later, is the resignation.

“geralt - “

“i know. i won’t let you die.”

-

he goes to yennefer next, even though to see her face is to grimace inside.

it’s been a week, and the rash has spread, and jaskier complains of stomach pains daily, even when he hasn’t eaten, even hours before he vomits blood.

yennefer takes one look at geralt before her gaze slides to the bard at his side, and she sighs, and motions them inside.

they learn nothing more.

“incurable,” she says, and if geralt didn’t know full well her loathing of jaskier, he would think she sounded... apologetic. “he’s got two years at best, likely less.”

“there has to be something -“

“geralt. i can’t do a thing.”

-

“geralt, surely someone will know... a - a different sorceress, a mage...”

“i won’t let you die.”

-

they go to another mage next, one tucked away in the depths of a town from which geralt has long since been banned.

it’s here that, finally, they get something - a name, a cause.

“it’s eating away at him,” says the old mage, “from the inside out. it’s an ancient thing - dark magic, as dark as i’ve seen. they say... well.”

“what?” geralt snarls, his grip on jaskier’s arm only tightening when his bard sways closer against his side.

“dragon heart, they say. little more than theory, but - “

and just like that, geralt is out the door, jaskier close behind.

-

“you can’t go after a dragon alone - “

“i won’t let you die.”

-

jaskier is weaker.

the rash has become boils here and there, on the backs of his hands and arms and shoulders, and he can no longer play the lute without pain.

as much as it tears geralt apart to leave him behind, he does.

he leaves jaskier at home in corvo bianco, begs their nearest neighbors to drop in, keep him well...

swears to come back alive.

-

“promise me you’ll come back if it’s a false lead - “

“i won’t let you die.”

-

he slays the dragon, a fierce red thing far up north, slices out its heart and carries it back to blaviken tied to roach’s haunches.

the old mage is waiting, ancient tomes and tablets and scrolls open on every surface, herbs and plants and monster pieces on top of and among it all.

“if this is right,” says the mage, “it’ll be violet at the end, but, well,” he amends, as he checks a scroll, “translating these have been next to impossible,” he admits, as he slices off a section of the heart, “and it might not - “

the broiling mixture in the cauldron turns a horrid, bloody red when the heart is dropped inside.

geralt feels nothing but dread.

-

“geralt, you can’t possibly kill enough dryads in time -“

“i won’t let you die.”

-

the second time he leaves from corvo bianco, he leaves jaskier in pain.

the boils are becoming lesions, and the bloody bile is a daily occurrence, and his singing voice is all but gone.

geralt sets off for the forests, and, well...

he slays fifteen of the forest nymphs, and he feels guilt biting at the back of his throat each time he shaves bark from the dead dryads’ trees, but jaskier’s red and bleeding skin is at the forefront of his mind.

the potion goes gray this time, deep and dull and dreadful, and geralt wants to scream.

-

jaskier is coughing now.

geralt stays home for a week, mourns the loss of jaskier’s warmth in his arms, for his bard cannot bear the touch of another’s on his sore and blistering and bleeding skin.

it pains him to see, and yet...

he cannot rest.

he leaves at week’s end, the edges of the world on his mind.

-

“geralt, please, just stay - “

“i won’t let you die.”

-

twenty tongues of elven warriors.

geralt sees the hatred, the betrayal, the disgust in filavandrel’s eyes as he slaughters those that remain.

he sees it tenfold when he slays the elven king where he stands.

he sees it in the surface of the river when he crouches down to wash his skin free of blood, reflected in his own eyes when he does his best to clean his own wounds.

he sees it in the washed-out green the cauldron’s contents turn.

he sees it in jaskier’s eyes when he returns home, tells him of the fall of the elves... tells him of the new scars upon his back.

-

“please, my wolf, stay behind this time...”

“i won’t let you die.”

-

fang of demon.

five new claw marks across his jaw.

jaskier cannot stand without doubling over in the worst fit of blood-splattering coughing geralt has ever witnessed.

the potion is black.

-

“geralt, it’s okay - “

“i won’t let you die.”

-

flesh of the one cursed before first breath.

a night in a crypt, a broken wrist, a gash on the flank.

jaskier’s eyes are bloodshot and his voice is frail. he cannot walk alone.

the potion is teal.

-

“geralt, please, if you love me - “

“i won’t let you die.”

-

eye of the beast upon the highest throne.

a king slain, a kingdom out for his blood, an arrowhead through the shoulder and a ribcage of splintered bone.

jaskier is bedridden.

the potion is gold.

-

“geralt, my love, *please,* i beg of you - “

“i won’t let you die.”

fang of the lycanthrope.

scar across the chest.

white.

-

“the cure doesn’t exist, geralt, stay home - “

“i won’t let you die.”

sting of the manticore.

wounded in the side.

bronze.

-

“it won’t ever work, my love, please let me die in your arms - “

“i won’t let you die.”

vessel of the djinn.

broken, battered, bruised.

charcoal.

-

at the end of the fifteenth month, geralt leaves his beloved behind for the last time.

he leaves jaskier coughing, choking, begging, grabbing for his arms, his hands, anything to keep him close -

grabbing for him despite the wounds geralt and the healers have done their best to keep bound -

begging for him despite the way his voice is all but gone -

sobbing for him despite the way he can barely even breathe -

but geralt draws away, shakes his head, whispers one last time, “i won’t let you die.”

he can hear his bard’s sobs well beyond the walls of their home.

-

twenty nine days.

wyvern, harpy, dwarf, virgin, cockatrice, gryphon, chimera, basilisk, leshen...

vampire, succubus, drowner, kikimora, barghest...

the monsters blur together after so long - after so much of his blood spilled.

geralt is growing weak, growing tired -

growing slow.

and then, one day -

one day, he stumbles as he walks back into the mage’s tower, stumbles and catches himself on the edge of the cauldron, and -

and his blood, the blood that’s fucking covering from melitele only knows how many fucking cuts and gashes and scrapes and gouges -

his blood drips from his palm, from his wrist, from his fingertips, and it falls into the cauldron -

and the concoction of herbs and roots and flowers and bones and brains and heartstrings and feathers and stones and blood, it -

it turns deep, vibrant violet, and -

and geralt goes still.

-

he’s never pushed roach as hard as he does that day, the next day, the next...

it’s the third day when a group of highwaymen cross his path, when they fire at him from the hillside, when a crossbow bolt strikes roach through the sockets of her eyes, and -

and geralt tears them all down without an instant of hesitation, and he pauses to mourn the loss of his cherished companion, but -

but jaskier is waiting, and -

and geralt runs.

his legs ache and his lungs burn and his ribs feel as though they may shatter again from the strain, and he is bleeding, and he is dying, but -

but jaskier is waiting, and -

and he loses track of the days and of how many times he trips and falls and of how many times he drops to his knees and then to the ground -

and still he runs.

-

i can’t let him die.

-

geralt feels as though he may collapse by the time he stumbles against the doors of corvo bianco, but still he moves,

still he pushes on,

pushes the door open and almost falls inside, and -

and he cannot breathe, and his vision is hazy, and he knows that he’s gone too far, but -

but jaskier is waiting, and -

and he steps through the doors of the room they’ve shared for so many long and perfect years, and -

and he reaches into his pocket for the vial of antidote, and -

and he looks up, and he goes still.

the vial falls to the floor.

geralt lurches the few steps to the edge of the bed, drops to his knees, reaches out to touch the back of a cold, cold hand, closed tight about a scrap of parchment he can’t bring himself to acknowledge.

he lowers his edge to the mattress, and he breathes in, and he breathes out, and...

and at last, the witcher is still.

-

geralt,

my beloved, i have kept alive as long as i can. i have spent my life at your side, and there isn’t a day of it that i would have changed.

my only regret is that i did not die in your arms.

i love you.

live well.

[kukusedai]

奈落 | 🕷 Jaakuno Kumo 🕷| 奈落

🕷 INDIE SELECTIVE NARAKU 🕷

|| Heavily Divergent || NSFW || || Multi Ship / Verse || One Liner - Para / Novella || Main Partners Prioritized || Low-Mid Activity

This is not my only blog, I cycle out with two others in the IY RPC. Anon hate, bullying & or negativity will not be tolerated. Stay in your own lane, and be NICE. If it is sent to me, it will be deleted without a single thought. Never once have or I or will I post anon hate.

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My main peeps. My disco fam. These people are some of my dearest friends, so of course I’m going to put them first. Please don’t let this discourage you, it just means they are my safe zone.

@arashisedai​  / @kizusedai​ 

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MAIN / DIVERGENT - It’s not over yet !! The Spooder LIVES.

AU / MORTAL - Young Lord named, Kagewaki Hitomi ( puppet master ) and engaged to @adversitybloomed​ ( Mulan ). His craft enables him power over those in his court; the teachings of his mother, a dark priestess, whispers behind the throne. Now he needs an heir... A wife.

AU / MORTAL ( II ) - ( Pre Series ) Onigumo ; the man, the bandit, the legacy.

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AU / INTENDED SLAYER - She hates him, and he loves it. He tried to kill her, and she dug herself out of her own grave to spite him. To later loathe and scorn his name with the vilest of hatred. He could sit and watch her sell her soul to the devil, time and time again... Just to watch her pain blend with pleasure as she danced in the flames of her own rage. @slayerled​

AU / FORGET ME NOT -  Of his own design, Naraku forgoes all of his power and memory. Storing them in an indisclosed location, in an unmarked vassel. Likely triggered to release via the moment it is touched by the sun, on a specific seventh day of the month. Until then, the dark hanyo now bare only his human heart and flesh; found by InuYasha and kept secret from his ‘pack’. Onigumo stays in a hut, where he is advised to lay low. @redratrobed​

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𝒮𝓅𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝐵𝒶𝒾𝓉 | watch out shadow!  ( spider tw )

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[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Too much said

A/N: This was requested by an anon, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! If anyone has any requests please let me now! 

Summary; After a long and terrible day for Richie, he gets into a fight with Eddie, worsening his day. 

Warnings: a lot of curse words. 

The fight happened so fast and unexpected that Richie was left blindsided. Sure, Eddie and him have their arguments from time to time, but never have they been so cruel and vile before.

It’s honestly Richie’s fault, both for starting the fight and pursuing it, and there’s no excuse that he can give obtaining why he did that.

See, Eddie has this gift where he sees straight through Richie, past all the layers of defense and deflection until he comes across the real, raw Richie, and most of the time Richie loves that about him. But at times, it unnerves him too. The amount of layers he manages to surpass baffles Richie, no number of walls stopping him from getting to the truth.  He scratches and tears to uncover everything about him, leaving him torn open for the world to witness. That’s how it feels at least, and Richie can’t help but want to scurry away from it sometimes.

No one has ever cared about him enough to do something like that, most noticed his overload of jokes and his overly outgoing personality and walked, no ran, away as fast they could. Richie was fine with that, as he was only able to see his negatives anyway and figured they were all right for doing so, but Eddie proves to him everyday that he is worth it. The anxiety in his mind and Eddie fight each other every day, thankfully with Eddie victorious, but the days Richie does succumb to his fears, give way to bad moods and even worse decisions.

The fight started with a simple question on Eddie’s part, an innocent inquiry that had no business leading up to the brawl it did.  

‘Hey Richie, you okay? I haven’t heard you spout a joke all day.’ He says with a teasing smile, yet the corners of his lips a tad too low to genuine, a strong indicator that he’s faking the chaff, and worry is hidden behind it.

And that’s the loaded question isn’t it? A question that so many answers can be given too, either truth or lie, and a query that no is able to verify anyway. Today sucked for Richie, from waking up late to blowing his interview with the board directors and spilling water over his computer causing it to crash and delete all the documents on which he wrote his new material.

During the day Eddie texted to ask if he wanted to go out shopping for new suits that are required for Ben and Bev’s wedding. ‘You can’t wear a Hawaiian shirt to my wedding Richie. I’m a fashion designer.’

Richie agreed, not that he was jumping on the opportunity to go in and out of stores, but solely for spending time with Eddie, but then he got the text message. That god-for-saken text message highlighted the terrible day. He refused to mull over that now though, so while he adjust his smile to appear naturally, he nodded to Eddie.

‘I’m fine Eds, why wouldn’t I be?’

Eddie’s brow twitches, then stills and smooths out again. He’s suppressing his telltale of wary that Richie points out time and time again to taunt him.

‘Are you sure? Cause I have never heard you in my life say no to fast-food,’ he pushes.

Richie sighs inaudible, and walks over their liquor cabinet in the living room, pulling out a bottle of red wine, the only kind of alcoholic drink Eddie likes.

‘Like I said Spaghetti, I’m fine, tired but good.’

Grabbing two wine glasses by the stem, per Eddie’s requests, he uncorks the bottle and pours plenty of the drink into it and offers one to Eddie.

Eddie takes it with a small ‘thank you’, and shuffles over to their couch, patting the seat next to him to invite Richie over.

Too obvious, Richie’s mind hisses at him, use a joke, do anything to distract him from your mood so he doesn’t asks questions.

‘We’re not eating McDonalds’ right now because I wanted to cook you spaghetti, Spaghetti’, Richie explains with a grin, watching as Eddie works himself up again. During a party where he was highly intoxicated, Eddie entrusted Richie that he cherishes the nickname ‘Eds’, but he still absolutely despises the nickname Spaghetti.

‘Fuck you’, he responds with so much conviction that Richie blanches for a second, a stab of sadness straight to the heart, until he sees Eddie’s own teasing smile.

‘And anyway, you’re going to cook? I would love to be able to have a kitchen. Remember how you burned an oven pizza when we were kids?’ He adds dryly.

‘Oh Eds, you wound me. I was ten.’

‘Old enough to read a clock then.’ While chuckling, they both take a sip of their drink.

They fall back into their old pattern of ribbing and mocking, and Richie believes for a moment that he got away with his behavior. He’s not that lucky.

When the chuckling subsides, Eddie fixes Richie with a stern look, his hand falling on top of Richie’s knee.

‘Rich, you hate cooking. Tell me what’s going on so I can help you.’

He knock the glass of wine back completely to the last drop, gulping it down in an effort to get drunk. ‘Will you get off my back already?’

That was a mistake, Richie never talks to Eddie that way, especially not for something so insignificant.

Eddie’s face hardens, not angry or upset, but determined, and that tells Richie that he’s not backing down now, it’s not in his nature.

‘Now I’m sure somethings wrong. Was it Steve, did he push you again to go on tour? You declined that once before, he needs to accept it.’

Richie slams the glass on the coffee table a little too harshly, while knocking Eddie’s hand of his knee and scrambling up from the sofa to pace up and down.

‘It’s not Steve, drop it Eddie I mean it. I don’t wanna talk about it.’

The lack of jabs is disturbing, so Eddie is not giving up, following Richie and attempting to hug him. Richie rejects the hug, and huffs as he storm through the backdoor into the yard to cool himself off.  

The last thing he wants is to upset Eddie, but he has to be alone to get his mind in order, and maybe to wallow in self-pity.

Eddie trudges on the patio behind him, not allowing him to gain a second of peace. All traces of teasing disappeared and any underlying worry is now visible on the surface. Richie lights a cigarette, something he distanced himself from as soon as Eddie returned in his life, his fingers trembling harshly making it hard to light it.

A scowl is omnipresent on Eddie’s face, his lips tilted in distain, waving away the smoke with his hand despite Richie not having even lit it yet. Tears tingle to escape but Richie stubbornly fights then, but even he can tell that Eddie notices them. He loathes crying in front of others, Eddie not being an exception, and now it’s even worse because he’s striving to pretend that he’s good.

‘Come on Rich. What’s wrong with you today?’ Eddie questions, itching to grab the cigarette from Richie and disposing of it.

‘There’s nothing wrong with me. What’s wrong with you?’ Richie begins hysterically. He wishes Eddie would let him be, so that he’s blind to all of the bad things that make Richie Richie. His mind is firing solutions to the situation, and way that he can change the subject.

‘Jesus fucking Christ, you’re acting like your mother, following me around all the time, demanding to know what’s wrong with me, I can have some free time of my own you know?’

The moment the words fly out of his mouth, Richie aches to swallow them back in. He hankers to beat them to dust, set them on fire and then bury them so deep that no one ever lays eyes on them again.

Eddie’s face turns, the scowl evaporating and leaving a defeated face in it’s wake. The tears that were building a minute ago dry up too, and the cigarette falls uselessly to the ground. ‘Eds, I’m so so sorry’, Richie tries, his nails digging in his palm at his self-hatred, his trash-mouth once again getting him in trouble.  

Not looking at him, Eddie stares at a far away spot near the back of their garden, silent and still. Richie briefly considers begging on his knees for forgiveness, and spout out a one-liner, or explaining what got him so bothered, but none of that comes close to the apology Eddie deserves.

‘Fine, fuck off then’, Eddie mutters, turning on his heels and disappearing in the house, banging the patio door shut in rage.

Richie sniffles, feeling stupider than he has ever felt in his life. He inhales deeply to stop the tears, having no right to cry himself now, and scurry’s to catch up to his boyfriend.

The house is silent, no Eddie anywhere in sight, and his shoes are missing too. When Richie checks the cabinet where all their keys reside, he observes that the front-, and car-keys are missing. Eddie left, and Richie is clueless as to where he is.

‘Shit’, he says, the panic building and building until every pore of his being is filled with a negative energy.

The urge to hit himself over the head is astounding, but he resists it in favor of grabbing his phone and calling Eddie.

Ironic, considering the reason Richie got pissed off was because Eddie gave him no space. The phone rings three times before Richie realizes that the ringing is coming from inside the house, placed on the kitchen counter top, odd since Eddie never travels without it.

Most likely Eddie put it there to show Richie there’s no point in calling him, and Richie nearly screams in frustration. He’s so fucking stupid.

He decides to try Bill instead, scrolling trough every contact until he finds it, and then stops. Bill might be Eddie’s best friend, but there’s no way Eddie would pay him a visit or discus this with him. He’s an a grade idiot about relationship, and anyway, Eddie only has conversations about his mom with one person.

Richie clicks out of Bill’s contact and seeks out Bev’s, the picture of her smiling face with sunglasses on greeting him. He’s in for an earful with Bev he knows, but if it helps him find Eddie, Richie is willing to endure it.

She answers the phone after the second dial, her breathing heavy yet she’s laughing too.

‘Ben hold on one second, it’s Richie.’

‘Hey Bev’, Richie maffles, leaning his back against the wall and tilting his head upwards. If only the day would start over.

‘No Nicknames? Okay what did you do?’ Bev asks him straight to the point, no beating around the bush.  

‘I messed up.’ Richie confesses, holding his breath to wait for Bev’s answer. She halts for a second, then says; ‘Honey, you’re kind of an idiot, I’m going to need more information than that.’

‘Badly. I told Eddie that he was acting just like his mother.’ Repeating the words only hammer in Richie’s head how much he fucked up, how asshole of him it was to say such a thing.

‘Oh Richie. Why did you do that?’

‘I was upset, and I don’t know. There’s no excuse. But he ran off and took the car and I don’t know where he is, has he called you?’, he begs, a mantra in his sounding ‘please, please.’ He will never forgive himself if something happened to Eddie and it was his fault.

‘No he hasn’t’, Bev groans. ‘Make this right Richie, you know how sensitive a subject this is.’

‘Yeah I know, thanks Bev. I’ll talk to you later.’

‘Oh hey Richie, maybe you can check out the lake? I think he jogs there.’ Without thanking her, Richie abruptly ends the call, rushing for their other car. Of course the lake, how did he not think of that?

Barely bothering to close the car door, Richie is already speeding away, until he drives on the main road. Traffic is jammed in L.A, moving an inch in 15 minutes, as it often it, unconcerning about the hurry Richie is under.

He bangs his hands against the steering wheel, and allows himself one yell in the confinements of his car, to let all the frustrated energy out, the scream galloping in the vehicle. A woman’s head whirls his way from the car beside him,  a perfectly trimmed eyebrow raising.

Richie laughs awkwardly, gesturing his hands in front of him. ‘Traffic, what can you do huh?’ He mouths, The woman merely breathes through her nose and returns her attention to the cars in front of her, ignoring his antics as best she can.

It remains embarrassing between them up to the intersection where they split up, Richie taking a U-turn. The five minute drive from there to home took him twenty minutes today.  

The lake-park in question is one that Richie only tagged along for once, back when he promised Eddie to jog along side him every so often, but after that first time and Richie not being able to move for a day, he gave up that idea.

Still, he locates it fairly easy, a small lake surrounded by trees and walking trails with a huge parking lot attached to it. Seriously, Richie bets that the parking lot is bigger than the actual park.

Richie misses the car Eddie occupied, but since it’s such a large space, that means nothing, and so he parks, and sets out to find him.

A cold breeze washes over, causing him to shiver and clench his jacket tighter over himself. He hopes Eddie took a jacket as well.

After an intensive search, Richie finally descries Eddie, sitting on the park bench that he covered in his overalls. Forgetting the situation for an instant, Richie chuckles, the whole thing so Eddie that his heart soars and sings.

The grass crunches under his feet as he approaches, loud enough apparently that Eddie is alerted and glances Richie’s way. He doesn’t smile or states anything, he just monitors Richie and what he does.

On the way here, Richie’s mind was so occupied that he forgot to think of what to say when he saw Eddie again, and now he’s coming up blank, the only words that mull in his head are related to an apology, and proving to Eddie that he knows he fucked up.

‘Eds, I’m so, so sorry.’ Richie tries, still two steps away from where Eddie is seated, unsure if he’s allowed to come any closer. He balances himself from the tip of his toes to the ball of his foot, rocking back and forth. He would love to humor Eddie, but that might not go down well, and another fight, no matter how mundane, is the last thing they need right now.

‘It’s not enough of an apology and I know that I’m just so sorry and I wish I would have never said it.’

‘She didn’t care about me you know?’ Eddie interrupts him, starting a whole new conversation that Richie did not expect they we’re going to have.

‘Sure, she loomed over my shoulder at every turn and asked how I felt every fucking day, but she didn’t care. What she cared about was being portrayed as this godsend and a way to do that was by making me ill, but if I died she would have been fine with that, that’s another to way to gain attention.’

Richie inches closer, dropping down next to Eddie but refraining himself from touching him, because he uncertainty loomed in the back of his mind.

‘I love you Richie, even when you’re a fucking asshole, and I’d rather you didn’t die, even though right now I’d really like to yell at you. I’m not her.’

With a startle chortle, Richie nods his head in agreement. ‘I’d let you, I deserve it. ’ Eddie rolled his eyes, pushing Richie lightly, not enough to hurt or push him off the bench, no more like a friend type of punch.

‘No you don’t. You’re a dumb ass sometimes and can be absolutely infuriating, but I shouldn’t have pushed you so much in the first place.’

‘I cherish that you care so much about me Eds, I wasn’t ready to talk, but that gave me no right to say such a thing You’re nothing like her, you don’t even resemble her at all, not even if you tried. I was bottling shit up again and I avoided the subject, but really I needed to be honest with you. I hope you can forgive me.’ Eddie merely shrugs, the small smile playing on his features when he looks up at Richie again giving him away.  

Tentatively, Richie adds; ‘I guess I’m usually that pushes I you know what I mean, both in our relationship and me and your mother’s.’

The joke strikes the jackpot, Eddie snorting a hearty laugh, shaking his head in disbelieve. ‘And I assumed your jokes couldn’t get any worse than those you performed when you started.’

‘Rude.’

‘You know what’s rude? Your boyfriend turning you into a laughing stock at Saturday night live, I know your moves bitch, and I’m onto you.’ Eddie jabs back, his bite and fiery spirit back on board.

Their lips connect, Richie pouring all his feelings and emotions into, conveying the many apologies he hadn’t spoken out loud. Eddie reciprocates enthusiastically, his hands sliding up in Richie’s hair, winding around a curl and tugging until they separate.

‘You ever say something like that again and you won’t get away with it that easily okay dumb ass?’ Eddie baits, waiting for Richie’s agreement.

‘Oh, and also, I get tv privileges, I want to decide what we’re going to watch, when we’re going to watch it.’

‘Agreed’, Richie relents, so happy that they’re well on their way to making up, that he would say yes to anything.  

‘Now lets go home, my ass has been sitting here for way to long and it’s freezing off.’ Eddie states, standing up and seizing a hold of his cardigan.

‘Oh no, not my Spaghetti’s ass, what ever would I do without it?’

Entering the house again when they make it home, Eddie clasps his phone in his hands, frowning at the missed calls Bev left him.

‘Hey, why is Beverly calling me?’

‘Yeah, I don’t think we’ll be able to go visit for a while, I may or may not have ended the call without saying goodbye.’