#i’m just angry and want to destroy myself and part of me wants someone to do it with

[anarchofairy]

going to admit to bad things

[klausysworld]

A random idea, Klaus is really (murder spree) angry Elijah and Rebecca are trying to talk reader into leaving with them but she tells them no, that she knows Klaus won’t hurt her, they are both in shock as they watch her walk up to Klaus speak to him and he totally calms down.

Thanks.

Because I love you

As I approached the abattoir i could hear glass breaking, a whole lot of screaming and a very distinctive yell, Klaus. Suddenly Rebekah came rushing out, the door swinging dramatically behind her as she ran towards me

“Y/n he’s gone mad, we need to leave now, come on in the car” she spoke in one breath grabbing onto my sleeve as tugging me along

“What happened? Is he okay?” I asked concerned. Suddenly Elijah appeared next to us covered in blood

“He’s prepared to kill every being in this city if not all of America itself for the best that we go away for a bit- you especially, you’re human” he took my hand and tried to coax me into the car

“No what? What happened? Did someone hurt him?” I question, another crash sounded, another scream.

“Look we just need to get out! It’s not safe when he’s like this!” Rebekah whisper yelled starting the car

“Jesus you two are meant to be a thousand years old, I’m going to see if he’s okay” i started walking back but Elijah was directly infront of me again

“Y/n i beg you to reconsider, he will hurt you” i frowned at him and moved around him

“He won’t lay a hand on me” i nodded to myself walking forward a little more confidently. I heard the car stop and both of their footsteps following behind

“He might drain you-“ Rebekah started

“He won’t” i cut her off

I walked in to see bodies nearly everywhere. I quickly ducked as a whole ass chair flew through the air and smashed into the wall behind me. I blinked a few times at it before making eye contact with an apprehensive Elijah who light shook his head ‘no’

I took a breath and turned back to the direction of pain filled terror. I stepped over and/or around the body parts leading to a fuming Klaus, blood splattered everywhere and a white oak stake in his hand that pointed at a man i had never seen who was crying a river

“Klaus?” I asked softly, his head whipped round to face me, his deathly expression dropping as he lowered his hand

“My love you need to go home” he told me, his adams apple bobbing

“Can you put the stake away…why do you even have it? I thought it was destroyed remember?” I asked stepping closer to which he moved backwards

“They want to kill me, it would seem that they discovered another. They need to pay for the harm they have caused and the lives they have threatened” his words grew harsher with each word, his gaze hardening

“Elijah and Rebekah are afraid, please calm down” i whispered and he growled

“My siblings are weak! They will not stand and defend themselves! Defend me! Or you! These people they threatened you! They will die and i do not care if i have to kill off the entire world to make sure every last pathetic excuse of an enemy is dead”

My lips pulled together in a thin line before i spoke again

“Look at him Niklaus, he’s crying, are you even sure that he was apart of this? There’s a dead old man in the corner, i do doubt an 80 year old human could have charged at you with white oak”

“He was collateral” he mumbled

“I thought you were going to try and limit the collateral” i took a few steps closer

“I can’t, not with this” he uttered

“Please, some of these people have families, they have people they love. Klaus i love you, if someone were to kill you and say it was collateral i would not accept that”

“That is why i need to kill everyone so it just cancels out” he frowned

“You’re making a bigger mess, just give me the stake, you trust me right? I’m going to put it somewhere safe so you can’t get hurt. Then you can stop because nobody can kill you without it” he sighed and looked at the weapon hesitantly

“But they can harm you” he whispered almost incoherently

“Then be with me, just stay with me” i held my hand out to him, he nodded nearly unnoticeably and dropped the stake in my hand.

“Let him go please” I instructed and he let go of the man infronts throat, letting him drop to the ground sobbing

“We’re going to go upstairs, calm down for 10 minutes and then I’m going to help you clean this up”

“We are not doing anything of the sort, you should never have to touch such horrible things” he growled

“This is not something anybody should have to do but you made the mess and you will clear it up and because i love you, and so i will help” i yelled back at him. He fell silent and his eyes dropped

“I’ll do it myself” he murmured

“We will help” Elijah called from behind us, i turned and smiled sadly at him, Rebekah was already lifting a body from the ground. Both looking both shocked, terrified and confused at the same time

“No, I’m afraid this is something he needs to do without you, please just relax, no more drama, take a day off” i took Klaus’s hand and pulled him up the stairs to the bathroom. I filled a bucket with warm water and grabbed a cloth

“There’s not much point in a shower until we’ve gotten rid of everything so ill just wash your face” I muttered seeing him glance to the shower

“Okay” he whispered lifting his head to make it easier to wipe clean

Once finished he looked at me silently for a minute or two

“Are you upset with me” he asked quietly

“No, I’m upset with the situation” I muttered

“You’re disappointed” he whispered

“I just don’t like all the death but i understand why you got angry, you just need to wait a minute and think before you act. Please don’t let me find you like that again, Elijah thought you would hurt me.” I stoked his cheek bones with my thumbs

“Did you…think i would hurt you?” He asked softly

“No, you wouldn’t touch me” I confirmed and he sighed, his head growing heavy in my hands as his eyes closed for a second

“I love you and i…i trust you” he uttered

“I trust you too, and you know that i love you. Now are you ready to grab a sponge for the floors…and walls and furniture and-“

“I got it, ill grab a few sponges” he muttered pushing his forehead to mine

“You know if you do it without complaining ill give you a reward later” i whispered to him

“What kind of reward?” He asked with a smile

“Perhaps you can take out your frustration on me? I may even get on my knees for you if you deserve such treatment” a low growl came from his throat as his arms circled my body

“Then we should really get started”



[marvelous-slut]

Bad Girlfriend - Happy Lowman x reader

Y’all. I’m back. I’m rewatching sons and I can’t contain myself. I LOVE THIS MAN. And I love ALL OF YOU. Life’s been busy, haven’t wrote in months but I come back to see the love y’all have given me even tho I’ve been MIA? Y’all are AWESOME. Thank you guys from the bottom of my heart. Hopefully these can be a regular thing.

Trigger Warnings - minors DNI. Go far away. Smut. Angry sex. Cheating. Wrote this on my iPhone notes and didn’t proof read it the best, sue me.

“Hales a lucky bastard. I mean look, how’s a woman with such a nice rack with a guy like him? Total dork. Must be for some kind of show. Has to be.” Tig says as he thinks Happy heard all his words. Happy stopped listening after the first sentence. He turns to Tig, confusion plastered all over his face.

“What?”

“You know, it’s just weird seeing a hot chick with a nerd.”

“No, the first part.” Happy says, getting annoyed with Tig.

“Oh! Hale, yeah? That’s Hales old lady, Unsers niece, well more like a daughter he raised her, and you’re not listening.” He finishes as Happy stands up to go confront you. He wasn’t one to let emotions get the best of him, but when a taken woman was basically throwing herself onto him every time she saw him, he needed to know what was going on. Teach her a lesson.

You say with Jax, Clay and Unser. You’d went with Unser to make sure he was okay, the man practically raised you. It was hard watching cancer rip him away. There was more to it, you enjoyed being around the club. It gave you a thrill, watching these men and their old ladies, watching how they destroyed anything that dared step in the way of them and their women, them and their brother hood.

Truth is, it was easier being with David. It made things smooth, he was a nice guy, Unser cared for him. There was just something that didn’t do it for you with him, you couldn’t tell if it was the vanilla sex, or the rumors you’d kept hearing about him eating some ATF woman’s pussy on the clock. Either way, running from chaos never worked for you, and that was evident with the familiar face of Happy Lowman come to you and grabbed your arm away from the group as they were conversing among themselves. Happy had become someone in the MC you enjoyed, you liked the way he carried himself. How people were afraid to even look at him the wrong way. The way his gun hung off his hip. He was everything that your boyfriend was not and it drove you insane. He drug you to his room despite your protest, he gets you inside and shuts the door locking it behind him.

“What is this about?” You ask, confused as to why you’d been drug away.

“What are you doing? Trying to get intel out of me.” He backs you against the wall, his face inches away from yours. “Come in here flaunting your shit all over me, whole time you have an old man at home? A cop none the less.”

“It’s not like that.” You begin, Happy chuckles and pushes into you further. The two of your bodies no longer having any room in between.

“Tell me what it’s like then? Cop not get the job done for you?” You feel your skin crawling, in the best way possible. Also, a little fear crept in. As much as you liked Happy and seeing him, you knew he was dangerous.

“He doesn’t.” You let out softly, he grabs your face and places his lips onto yours harshly. Almost as if he’d needed this like you did. He pulls you back from the wall and lays you down on his bed instead.

Happy knew he had you right where he wanted you, and right where you wanted him. He spreads your legs as far as they will go, he’s on his knees in-between them. His hands go to your thighs, under you dress. He finds your entrance covered by a wet laced fabric. He runs his fingers up and down the sorry excuse of fabric that covered your wet folds. You moan softly, he pushes them to the side and shoves a finger into you with no warning. You arch your back, hoping he’d get the hint to add another finger. His finger is covered with your wetness.

“Happy.” You moan out, leaning your head up to make eye contact with him. He’s still in his kutte which makes your pussy pulse even more for him.

“Beg.” He lets out, moving his finger slowly in and out of you. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to give me more, fuck me with your fingers.” You keep eye contact with him, he still hasn’t moved any faster or added any digits. You sigh, throwing your head back. “Finger fuck me, please Happy. Please, I’m begging you.” He is a bit more satisfied with this response as he adds another finger, pushes himself over top of you, keeping his fingers inside you. He’s hovering over you now, a hand in your hair tugging it lightly. You moan, closing your eyes. The pleasure from his fingers was enough and he knew that, he pushed you to your limit and then he stops.

“I don’t think cheating whores deserve to cum.” He says, licking his fingers as he keeps eye contact with you. You’re desperate now, you grab him by his Kutte, slamming your lips onto his like a greedy bitch. You move your hands down to his belt, undoing it as you pull away to kiss his neck.

“Maybe I don’t, but you do.” You whisper to him, he feels the heat from your mouth on his ear. He pushes you back onto the bed, ripping your dress over your head, leaving you exposed to the cold air. He rips his shirt off, then his jeans and boxers all in one motion. He slams his cock into you with no warning, you let out a moan as he begins pumping himself in and out of you. You feel like you’re being fucked into his mattress. You gasp loudly as he begins rubbing your clit, you felt fuzzy in the brain. You couldn’t believe you were doing this to yourself, to Happy, to David? You reach a hand up to cover your mouth as the pleasure of him drilling inside of you is becoming harder to contain. He rips your hands away, pinning them above your head as he continues ramming into you.

“No. You don’t get to be quiet. I want everyone to know what’s happening. I want them to know I’m fucking Hales old lady. Making you take me, what do you think he’d think? A dirty biker fucking his innocent girlfriend?” He asks, his face is driving you crazy, he has his eyes shut head tilted to the ceiling enjoying this moment too much.

“Oh my god Happy.” You scream out loud enough anyone around could hear. “Fuck. Fuck.” You moan out, your arms still pinned above your head. He bends down, licking the side of your neck, biting it softly yet rough enough it would leave a mark. “Oh god Happy. I can’t ever get off with him. Please let me cum. Please.” You plead with him, sadly what you told Happy wasn’t a lie at all. Most times it was a 7 minute fuck and a fake orgasm to get David off of you.

“Not surprising. You need a real man to do that.” He finally lets go of your hands, moving one of his to your throat grasping it gently. He moves the other back to your clit, giving you chills all over your body. “Good thing you’ve got me inside of you right now. Good thing you can obey like a good girl too.” With the final words, you feel your eyes roll back in your head. You arch your back, bracing yourself for the first orgasm you’d had with a man and not a toy or your own fingers in years.

“God damn it.” You scream out, feeling yourself release around him. You feel your face flush, he notices and it’s enough to send him over as well. “Fuck.” He mutters, releasing himself into you. You lay there on his bed, feeling light headed from the mind blowing orgasm you just received. Happy stands up, cleaning himself up. He throws your clothes onto the bed.

“May want to clean up before you go back to your old man.” With that, he throws on a shirt and leaves the room. You lay back on the bed looking at the ceiling, realizing what has been done can’t be undone.

The chaos you tried to avoid would ensue before you knew it.

[holylulusworld]

Big girls don't cry (5)

Summary: You are no stranger to heartbreak.

Pairing: CEO!Steve Rogers x Plussized!Reader

Warnings:  angst, strong reader, mentions of former heartbreak, regret, fear of commitment, abandonment issues, fluff, mistaken identity, hopeful ending, a little fun, talk about therapy

Big girls don’t cry masterlist

Part 4

“I wish you love. A love that will give you everything you’ll ever need…”

You fist his shirt, desperate to tell Steve how you feel. Yes, he hurt you deeply but maybe there is a chance that you can work things out. 

There is love between the two of you. A love you don’t want to give up easily. 

You didn’t know he struggled in the past too, believing he always was the self-confident man he is. You understand now that he is insecure sometimes - just like you.

“Steve, I don’t want someone else to love me. I only wanted you to love me,” you hide your face in his chest, wetting his shirt with your tears.

“I ruined our love. I destroyed what we had because of my insecurities,” Steve cries now too. He hiccups and buries his face in your neck. “You will never love me again. I threw the best thing ever happening to me away. What else can I do but let you go to find someone better?”

“Steve, love doesn’t die easily. It’s stronger than you give it credit for. Love isn’t always strong from the beginning. It grows if you give it the chance to do so. Every touch, kiss, or gentle gesture let it grow,” you choke out a sob. “Even after a storm, it can grow if you find a way to forgive each other.”

“I love you so much it hurts not having you around. That day, I wanted to ask you to move in with me,” he sniffs, “I wasn’t sure how to propose, but I got the ring, and then…”

“You messed shit up, Stevie,” you whisper against him. “Why did you have to say these things? Why?”

“Sam and Bucky said I’m whipped, and I got scared that you will make me fall in love even more only to break my heart. Everyone just left me, and I kind of sabotaged our relationship to not get hurt. Instead, I hurt the only person who meant the world to me. I hate myself for it.”

“You’ve got abandonment issues. I don’t think you’ll be able to have a healthy relationship if you don’t seek help. Maybe you need a therapist to help you come to terms with your past. I’d gladly help you, but I don’t think I’m the right person.”

“A therapist,” Steve whispers. “Will you help me find one? I-I trust you and…”

“I won’t give up on us yet, Steve. I’m still angry at you. But mostly, I’m hurt. You didn’t trust me enough to talk about your past with me.”

“You didn’t talk about your past with me either, doll,” he lifts his head to look at you. “I guess we both should try to come to terms with our past. Maybe we can do it together?” Steve looks at you like a kicked puppy. “Please…”

“So…” You sit on Steve’s sofa, looking at the notebook in your hands. “What do you think about the therapist and the homework he gave us?”

“I’m not sure,” Steve places a cup of tea and some cookies on the coffee table in front of you. “It felt good to talk about the things bugging me. But I didn’t like the way he stared at your chest.”

You giggle. Steve is not wrong. Dr. Hansen poorly hid his attraction toward your boobs and ass. Maybe he wasn’t the best choice, but he had the best reviews. 

Steve sighs and opens his notebook to reread the instructions Dr. Hansen gave him during their private session. “He told me to tell you how much I love your body. With my tongue and body.”

“He told you to have sex with me?” You wrinkle your nose. “You’re lying.” Steve yelps when you snatch the notebook out of his hands to get a look at the instructions. “Did he draw me?”

“Uh-that was me. Dr. Hansen was talking about you, and that you’re a beautiful woman. He wanted me to cherish you. I couldn’t help myself and draw you.”

“You’re very talented Steve,” you grin. “Just draw me with clothes on next time…”

“He didn’t see a thing. I swear,” he starts to sweat. “It’s just that the was talking about you, and your appearance all the time and my mind wandered.”

Sighing again you close the notebook. “I don’t think Dr. Hansen will help us. He’s a pervert.”

“Hmmm…” Steve nods in agreement. “I don’t understand all the good reviews. Maybe they are fake.”

“Let me check again,” you grab your phone to search for Dr. Hansen. “Hmm…” You frown deeply. “Crap.”

“What?” Steve looks at you, brows furrowed. “Doll? What’s wrong?” He worriedly places his hand on your thigh.

“I think…uh…I messed up this time,” you giggle as your cheeks heat up. “I noted the wrong address. I wanted to go to Dr. Hanson, not Dr. Hansen. We kinda ended up with a sex therapist.”

Steve snorts. “Well, we never had a problem in that department. Our sex was extraordinary, kinky, sweet, hot, and satisfying.”

“You are telling me,” you groan loudly. “Great. Now I know why he was talking about my sad vagina all the time. I believed he was a creep when he wanted me to tell him about my masturbation routine.”

“He asked you how you touch yourself?” Steve’s head snaps toward you. “I swear, I’m going to kill him. Right now. I’ll go to his practice and murder him.”

“He only did his job,” you point out. 

Steve pouts. “I still don’t like that guy. He accused me of not taking care of your muffin. I don’t know what he meant, but I didn’t like it one bit.” 

You snort, as you watch Steve. “Oh my god. Stevie! You can’t be serious.”

“I’m damn serious.” He slams his fist into the couch. “I always ate your muffins and cupcakes. How dare that man to say I don’t like the food you make.”

“Steve,” you giggle as you place your hand on his shoulder. “He was talking about my vagina, not pastries.”

“What?” All color drains from Steve’s face. His features harden and he’s about to kick the table. “How can he say such a thing?”

“Uh-I kinda told him that you disappointed me. I guess he believed I was talking about your qualities in the bedroom.” You start laughing at Steve’s pissed expression. He grunts as you hold your stomach. “This can only happen to us. We seek help and end up with a sex therapist.”

“Stop laughing,” Steve struggles to not laugh. “Doll, stop laughing. We should talk about our relationship, not laugh about our therapist.”

“I wanna laugh,” you giggle and kick your feet. “That feels,” you snort while laughing, “so good. Stevie…”

After the incident with Dr. Hansen, and your flash of laughter you decided to talk things out with Steve in private. If you need professional help, you can still look for a therapist.

It’s been two weeks, and you are slowly making progress. You talked about your childhood friends and slowly got closer to the core of your problems. Distrust and the fear of getting hurt again.

“You can take your time,” Steve softly says. “I told you about Peggy and the others hurting me. Uh-and my first girlfriend. You know that I’ll not judge you or laugh about you.”

You inhale sharply. It’s been years since you thought about your first love. “It was because of one of his friends’ comments. We were good, and I believed he liked me. One false word from his friend and he decided that I was not the girl he wanted to take to prom. Since then, I never trusted someone with my heart. Until you.”

“And I broke your trust in me,” Steve sighs deeply. “I know I said it before but I’m so fucking sorry. What happened in my past shouldn’t have influenced my life and my feelings for you. If I could turn back time and take the words back, I’d do it.”

“Now that we talked about our past, we should address the elephant in the room. Where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know,” he honestly says. “All I know is that my feelings for you never changed, and that I love you. I just don’t know if that’s enough for you.”

“What about your job? You quit and gave up your career,” you move a little closer to Steve to take his hand in yours. “What do you want to do now?”

“Bucky, Sam, and I are thinking about starting our own business. That was my dream for years. I hated working for that asshole.”

You interlock your fingers with Steve and lean your head against his shoulder. “You’ll stay in New York, right? I don’t want you to move miles away.”

“Of course, I’ll stay close to you, doll. It’s only a vague idea so far. We still need to talk about the details,” Steve leans his head against yours, sighing. “Do you want me to stick around?”

“Hmm…I could get any guy, you know. Including Dr. Hansen,” you grin hearing Steve inhale sharply. “Every guy wants a taste of me.”

“Y-ou wouldn’t go out with Dr. Hansen. Right? He’s still a creep,” Steve stammers. “Please don’t go out with him.”

“I could have any guy, but I only want you, Steve.”

Steve nods. He knows that you’ve got a long way ahead. Both of you need to heal, but if you are willing to give him the chance, he’ll show you what love is…

FIN

Tags in reblog.

[casanovawrites]

random sentence prompts  ━ from various tv shows, part 5

i’m sorry i wasn’t here, not just tonight, but every day. i haven’t been here. i know that now.

i know that you just needed me to listen, to hear you. 

maybe you should take a break. and… get help.

where did you find that kind of courage?

i thought if i just kept my head down and followed the rules, everything would be fine.

these people kill with false hope.

sometimes what's painful in the moment is what gets you where you need to go.

i enjoy being better at things than everyone else.

i haven’t felt at home in this world.

remember, i’m still betting on you.

okay, but what about me? i’m not ready.

i would give anything to not give a shit, but i do.

time to forgive yourself, kid. you got a future. you gotta see that now.

some nights are so damn dark. and then they still manage to get darker. 

every time i try to make something right, i always hurt someone.

it’s like i was living for the first time. and once you feel that, you’ll do anything to keep feeling it.

i don’t want you guys to die for me.

i got my rep as the strong, silent type to think about.

we have to be brave in this life we have, simply to exist now.

they can’t hurt me. there’s no one left that i love.

fuck you, you really hurt my feelings.

all we have is what we carry on our backs.

do you trust me or not?

that’s the thing. if they don’t know it was a lie, they get to just live.

i wanted to be brave. i wanted to be more like you.

i’m not brave. i’m a shit person who does shit things because i don’t give a single shit about anything.

so you feel like you didn’t do enough then, now you have to do everything for everyone.

your head is shoved so far up the future’s ass, you’ve completely abandoned the now.

i haven't had a family in a long time, but i have one now.

i fucked it up because i’m fucked up.

you want me to be scared of you. but i’m not.

you shouldn’t come in here. it’s not safe. i’m not safe.

you’re like the most put together person i know.

you can be charming when you’re not angry or hungry.

i didn’t ask for you to rescue me. you did that, for you. 

i’m normal. this is what normal looks like when you’ve had my fucking life.

i don't think it's something you get away with. you still have to live with what you've done.

i’m in this now, and i need to know everything. you owe me that.

how come you never choose me?

you had the guts to do something brave. 

people go through all sorts of stuff, bad things, and they don’t tell anybody.

i worry myself, too.

i just know that i need to make my life count. it’s all i can do.

might’ve been shitty parents, but they’re still your parents.

when we get there, we’ll be different. we’ll be ready. 

you missed me that much?

a lot of hope is dangerous.

i don’t wanna be who everybody thinks i am here. 

it’s the things we love most that destroy us.

you're a good person even with all your bad qualities.

see? we’re good together.

you really think the world’s gonna end?

i’d like for the time i have left on this earth to mean something.

i don’t give a shit anymore. i just want to be a good person.

what if you just want something, and you want it so bad?

i guess we both got what we wanted.

you’re a fucking creep, i’m a fucking catch.

we walked into the darkest place there was, but we did it together.

you’re not bored. your heart’s broken.

i don’t pity you, like at all. i wish i was like you.

she took me straight into the fog of war.

you don’t know everything. and you can’t control me.

you can lie to everyone else, but you can’t lie to me. 

you’re fucking badass.

i love you. can you handle me saying that?

i make a habit of expecting the worst so i won’t get hurt.

i know this is too little, too late, but i’d really like us to be friends.

i sure hope you catch me when i fall. 

why focus on what’s wrong and not what’s right?

your lies, you can’t even keep track of them.

love is a kind of killing, and none of us get out alive.

maybe something good can come from something bad.

there’s something dangerous about the boredom of teenage girls. 

remember half an hour ago when you wanted to murder me? 

that’s all we are the whole time, shells with nothing inside.

please, can you just talk to me? anything you need, just say the word.

i keep blaming everyone, but it was me. it was my fault.

yeah, maybe fire and gasoline can hang out.

it is so easy to find yourself in dark places.

what’s right is that i feel something for you that i just don’t feel anywhere else with anyone else.

i’m going to have to take that risk.

you said it yourself, you don’t remember what happened. is it so hard for you to believe you might be innocent? 

you know what the worst part is? i really thought i had good instincts.

you’re right, you don’t owe me shit, but i’m asking you anyway. 

i could’ve been nicer. i could’ve been less of a monster.

we grew apart from each other. we’re two different people now.

you’re both sad and lonely. you’re a perfect match.

maybe we just needed to work through the bad to get to the good.

you were right. everything is cursed.

god, you are so gruesome. 

you take me for everything i’m worth.

it’s okay if you’re scared.

are you trying to get me to forgive and forget?

[grapejuicestyless]

Night Shift

Harry Styles x Fem!ex best friend reader

Summery: the song Night Shift

The first time I tasted somebody else's spit, I had a coughing fit

I mistakenly called them by your name

I was let down it wasn't the same

“Shit, I’m sorry. Fuck.” I wiped my lips subconsciously, trying to dry the spit from the boy that vaguely resembled my best friend. Same color hair, same color eyes but somehow less beautiful on the random boy than the one I wanted.

I picked at my skin, my thumb scratching at my hangnails until they bled from the cuticles down my knuckles.

It was always like this. I convince myself I’m fine and go out for drinks. But as soon as I’m not fully sober, he comes back to me like a not as distant memory as I thought he was. I end up wiping my mouth and bleeding on my dress, leaving whoever was there in the bathroom as I make a b-line for the exit.

I'm doing fine, trying to derail my one track mind

Regaining my self-worth in record time

But I can't help but think of your other in the bed that was mine

So again, I walk the street way past my self set curfew and destroying any self respect I’d scraped up off the floor beneath my feet.

But how could I be angry at him for leaving? My best friend, who had such great opportunities ahead of him. A winding journey of riches and fame. A household name to be made. Such a bright star, why would he stay with his friend, who could barely make it past third period without running off to get lost in her head? Why would he tie himself down with someone who could make nothing of themselves.

I had dreams, I had aspirations that I got so damn close to reaching, but never quite there. Never quite confident enough to take the chances that everyone else was so easy to do. So while everyone grows up into who they want to be around me, I stay here and rott in my childish self pity and hopeless devotion to a man who calls once a month if I get lucky.

Maybe all these reasons could level out my anger issues and make me come up with a rational reason to his forgetfulness to check in with someone who never forgot to make sure he was okay. But they didn’t and instead I only grew more impatient and more irritable the larger he rose into a life we’d dreamed he’d get together. Call it jealousy, but I believe it’s just the bitter part of myself angry at the loss of him.

Am I a masochist, resisting urges to punch you in the teeth

Call you a bitch and leave?

When the phone hanging unevenly in the kitchen echoed through the late PM, I let my feet rush across the tile. I almost didn’t answer the phone, scared that if it was the one call I’d receive from him, I’d waste it. Maybe if I called back, by some miracle he’d answer. But I came up with fake scenario‘s to force myself to answer.

What if my mom was hurt?

What if someone needed help?

What if my grandma was dying?

“Hello..?” I rubbed at my eyes, tucking the strands of hair falling in front of my face behind my ears. I leaned into the wall, hip popped out and heal off my foot off the ground comfortably.

“Y/n, hey. How have you been?” His English accent felt like a warm blanket of home. It was his moms Sunday breakfast the morning after a sleepover. It was the dew on the grass we ran through every morning before school.

I bit my lip until my teeth were stained red and there were holes in the skin so deep it could scar.

“Oh. I’m good. How have you been?” He laughed, it was airy and light with the blissful ignorance to the hurt he inflicted on me every time with these damn calls.

“You don’t sound too excited to hear from me, y/n/n.” Mentally, I rolled my eyes.

On the outside I came off as rude and standoffish towards any sort of topic involving our situation, but inside I craved for him to chase me like he still wanted me in his life. Just for him to care enough that me not caring broke him into the same shards he’d shattered me into when he left.

“No, just a little tired is all. So, how have you been, Harry?” I tried again, brushing the tense muscles away like everything he said didn’t deeply bother me.

He sighed. I could imagine in that moment that he was pinching his brows and blinking rapidly like he did all those years ago whenever he got slightly out of sorts.

“I’ve been doing really good, recently. I’m touring with the boys.” I nodded, though he couldn’t see me, it felt instinct to get tight lipped and short with him.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it to the show, by the way. I really wanted to come.” I answered his next question before he could ask it. I knew he’d ask me if I was sure about not coming to his shows. It was a yearly occurrence.

At first I’d show up. Only to the first tour. The second one I had a work conflict with. My the third I had given up even checking my calendar, the embarrassment of my life being only a fraction of what his was worth too embarrassing for me, let alone how embarrassing it was to him. Even if he’d never admit that he found my life boring and undesirable, he’d shown it by leaving everything I worked for behind.

“About that, listen.” He started, I braced myself for what he was about to ask.

“I think it might be nice to catch up. Im in town, I wanted to see you tonight. You remember that cafe on the corner of Washington? The one we went to all the time when we were younger?”

“It closed last year, H.” I checked the clock. The line went silent.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” I bit at my nails in anticipation.

“How about the old coffee shop that sold sea salt taffy’s at the counter?” I hummed.

“Yeah, okay. What time?”

“How about eight? Does that work-“

“Yeah sounds great. See you then.” I hung up the phone harshly, ready to stab him in the heart for leading me on like he cared still or let him twist the knife he’d already put through mine. I knew why he’d called.

Every so often he’d get reminded by someone of me, then he’d get consumed with an insurmountable amount of guilt for not staying in touch. For letting himself drift away. He’d call like we had talked just the other day and go about his life forgetting me once again.

Why did I come here? To sit and watch you stare at your feet?

What was the plan? Absolve your guilt and shake hands?

I arrived at the shop first, finding a table situated near the back, where we always used to sit so we could talk as loud as we wanted and not get hushed.

I placed our coffees under the small napkins laid out to absorb the water rings that gathered occasionally. I ordered the same two black coffees Harry and I had always loved since we were young. Truthfully, I had no idea if he even liked it black anymore.

When the bell rang, my breath was caught in my throat. There he was. The same tall, tanned boy with the curly mop of soft brown locks and sparkling green eyes smiling softly at me. And my heart still raced the same way it did in elementary school.

“Y/n, oh my god you look great.” He reached out for a hug. I hesitated to return it. I was afraid to take in his scent. I was afraid to get attached to something that didn’t belong to me anymore. If I got attached it would only be harder to let it go again. I already lacked the supplies to patch my broken wings, how would I fix them if I allowed him to tear them straight off?

And when I did smell him, it was like a bubble of heaven surrounding my body. I could melt into his chest and just be fully vulnerable. It was the smell of my childhood and the promises of forever that we’d sworn on.

“I got us coffee. Black, like old times.” His lips pulled back and his teeth clenched.

“I actually don’t drink caffeine anymore.” Oh.

“Then why the coffee shop?” I almost laughed at his stupid choice of place. I almost let out a string of curses and begged for answers why I was even there. If not to drink until I’m up for days and pretend you miss me like I miss you, then why call me?

I feel no need to forgive but I might as well

“I just really like this place. Never really changed, so.” I nodded. Of course.

A silence covered us like a blanket that was rough and stuffy. The only sounds being those of the soft sipping of my coffee and the clink the cup made as it made contact with the table. Seconds of this turned to minutes, minutes feeling more like hours.

“How’s your mom?”

“She’s still out of her mind. Less than before but she’s still pretty sick so, I’m not expecting her to do much better.” The table between us was suddenly the most beautiful sight ever. The wood my eyes place to settle on to avoid his stare.

“What about your dad?” He pressed on, wanting more out of me.

“He’s doing the best he can. He’s needed a lot of help with mom so I’ve been helping. It’s been hard but it’s nice being all together again. I don’t mind it, it gets quiet over here.” I swallowed a lump in my throat, my tongue finding a home poking at the inside of my cheek.

“Shit, I had no idea it was that bad, babe. Why didn’t you say something?”

“You never asked.” Looking up to meet his face was like watching him process his lack of involvement in my life. It was watching him go through every stage of grief at once and every bit of it was doused in guilt.

But let me kiss your lips so I know how it felt

Silence consumed us again. From afar I bet we looked like we were on an awkward first date. You never would have guessed that we’d know each other in and out at some point. But life is funny like that. While I live with our memories together like it deserves to be protected, he tosses them out like a side quest leading him to his success without me.

The chair squeaked when I stood, my hand reaching in my back pocket to pull out a twenty.

“I hope your show goes well tomorrow, Harry.” I began to leave, only stopping once he shot up and blocked my path with his chest.

Pay for my coffee and leave before the sun goes down

Walk for hours in the dark feeling all hell

“What? You’re leaving? Why?”

“Harry, I can’t catch up with someone I don’t even know.”

“You know me.”

“Do I?”

“Yes!” He raised his voice slightly. His tone wavered, unsure of himself and hurt by my quickness in giving up on us.

“Okay, then you must not know me.”

“Of course I know you.” I laughed but he didn’t find it funny.

Don't hold your breath, forget you've ever saw me at my best

You don't deserve what you don't respect

Don't deserve what you say you love and then neglect

“I know you still like your coffee black. And I know that you stayed at home because you got too attached to the backroads here. I know you were obsessed with the idea of letting our children grow up in one of the nice houses up on the hill with the picket fences and becoming just as close as we are.”

“As we were.” I corrected.

“As we are.” He insisted.

“You can’t be close to someone you can’t even remember to call until everyone else is busy.” He shut up, tugging at the hair at his roots.

“Y/n.” The beg tumbled past his lips with no real request. Maybe to just stay in my presence for a moment longer, but that idea was shoved down with all my other fantasies of us still being close like he believed we were.

“I hope your show goes well tomorrow, Harry.” My shoulder brushed his. He reached out for me, but missed by a hair, I felt it. Yet, he made no further movement to come back to me. He didn’t chase what he didn’t want.

Now bite your tongue, it's too dangerous to fall so young

Take back what you said

Can't lose what you never had

Exiting that shop hurt more than a thousand cuts in the creases of my body. Each step was heavier and each street light I counted only hurt my head more to count.

The scream I let out by the park bench on the way home was guttural and obnoxious. I could only pray no one overheard my breakdown that came out in ugly sobs and a clawed at chest.

If he was gone, then so was my oxygen. Every time was harder to let go than the previous. All had been over the phone so this was a new kind of hurt. This was dying. This was the light draining and the body shutting down If always feared as a kid. This was me welcoming it.

I could only wish he could feel a fraction of what I felt letting him go like that.

I feel no need to forgive but I might as well

But let me kiss your lips so I know how it felt

Pay for my coffee and leave before the sun goes down

Walk for hours in the dark feeling all hell

I memorized his tour schedule for the next year. I knew when he would be in town and I knew when he would be leaving. I could predict when he would call, I could guess what he would ask about and I could accurately mouth the jokes he always said when things got awkward.

So I started helping over my parents help on nights when he was in town. If he wanted to call, I wouldn’t be there to contribute to his sudden remembrance to his humble beginnings.

I started avoiding my phone. I stopped walking through the kitchen. I started going to bed early when I was at home. I started to stop praying on his call to come and started to pray it wouldn’t.

You got a 9 to 5, so I'll take the night shift

And I'll never see you again if I can help it

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers

Dedicated to new lovers

Getting over him wasn’t an option, but I could distract myself with the people present in my life. My friends became my best friends and he slipped into a distant memory after some passing weeks. The mention of his name still had my heart racing at a speed that was pitiful for someone so mistreated, but I no longer longed for his constant presence.

You got a 9 to 5, so I'll take the night shift

And I'll never see you again if I can help it

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers

Dedicated to new lovers

It had been a year since that night that I walked out. It had been a few months since I developed my schedule to avoid his calls and pleas for my reassurance he hadn’t lost me. And it had been long enough for me to do the unbelievable.

When the phone rang in the kitchen I didn’t shuffle as quick as possible across the tile like I would. I didn’t rationalize with who it could be, what could be happening. I let my feet drag slowly to the wall with the same old phone on it and I answered.

I answered the phone, picking it up off the wall, and before he could get a word out about his relief that I’d answered, I set the phone back against the wall, ending the call before it began.

I did the unbelievable. I stopped caring.

You got a 9 to 5, so I'll take the night shift

And I'll never see you again if I can help it

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers

Dedicated to new lovers

[muertawrites]

Damsel in Destruction (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: Jason and one of his cult members attack you and Eddie as you escape from the Upside Down. You show him just how fed up with his shit you are. (Takes place after the scene where Eddie absolutely destroys it on his guitar. I’m taking creative liberties as to the context of that scene but I have a feeling I’m right.) 

Word Count: 2k 

Warnings: blood, mentions of bullying / physical abuse, harsh language, some slightly anti-religious phrasing

Author’s Note: y’all i’m on the verge of a total mental break. i got my heart ripped to pieces by someone i really cared about and probably could have loved, lost my job without warning because everyone i worked with was a backstabbing cunt, and lost a fundamental human right at the hands of my government. all in less than three months. so this is actually an eddie munson x me fic bc i want to express how totally unhinged i feel and still have someone love me for it. or honestly just to have someone love me period would be nice. i’m losing my fucking mind y’all. i’m gonna go drink myself into a stupor and apply for jobs i no longer feel passionate about and pray for a quick and painless death ✌

“Let's go. We gotta get back."

Eddie's rough, firm grip seized around your bicep and hauled you up off the forest floor, your own hand latching around his arm and clutching him as you stumbled upon standing. Your part of the work was done - Eddie had effectively shattered Vecna's ability to possess minds with the killer shredding of his guitar. Now you just had to meet up with the others without getting caught by the police, an angry mob, or the swarm of demabats and other horrendous beasts that Vecna had set loose upon the living world. Easy.

You jogged through the woods behind Eddie's trailer, hand clasped within his as you traversed roots and rocks and your own shaking legs. He pulled you along, almost ripping your arm out of its socket for his hurry; when you cried out, he slowed and wrapped an arm around you, pressing you into his side.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I'm worried about the kids."

You grinned, squeezing his waist.

"They're okay," you assured him. "They do this all the time."

You walked like that for another mile, tucked under Eddie's arm with his hand rubbing apologetic circles into your shoulder. Eventually, specks of light began to emerge on the horizon, poking through the trees - you were almost to Hawkins High.

Then something heavy collided with the back of your head, knocking you off your feet in a dizzy, blacked out haze.

"Get her," commanded a familiar, chilling voice from somewhere beyond your now blurred vision. "I'll control the animal."

"Don't fucking touch her," you heard Eddie snarl.

His words were followed by the sound of skin hitting skin, bone on bone. Something metal clattering to the ground. Shuffling, bodies struggling against each other, insults and slurs thrown back and forth. More blows.

A hand seized the nape of your neck, using the collar of your denim jacket to force you onto your feet. Your sight came back to you, head clearing enough to realize that the back of your skull was throbbing, and a leather-clad arm was wrapped around your throat. It wore the sleeve of a letterman jacket.

At least the angry mob was smaller than you expected it to be.

You started to thrash. Your hands flew to the arm at your neck, pulling and scratching, while your body slammed back forcefully into the chest of the boy holding you.

"Let go of me!" you shrieked, enraged. To your glee, he struggled to keep his grip on you.

"Shut her up," Jason ordered. "I'll deal with her next."

He stood several feet away, leaned menacingly over the trunk of a tree. Eddie's throat was crushed under his forearm, blood pouring from his nose and a gash in his eyebrow, his guitar shattered at his feet.

"Like hell you will," you muttered.

At your neck, your captor's sleeve had raised just enough to expose a length of skin; you bit down with all your might, teeth sinking in until you tasted blood. The boy howled in pain and flung you to the ground, spitting the words "crazy bitch" through his tears. You rolled, coming to a stop on your side.

Something was lodged beneath you. It stabbed into your hip, up the length of your torso, its pointed end poking your ribs. You reached underneath you, wrapping your fingers around it and finding it cold to the touch.

A crowbar. The same one that had probably knocked you out.

"What the fuck happened?" Jason shouted.

His crony didn't get a chance to respond. You sprung to your feet, swinging the blunt end of the crowbar into the boy's gut, doubling him over; you then slammed it down onto the back of his neck, effectively incapacitating him. He toppled with a groan, and you raised your eyes to find Jason turned around, staring at you in shock and ire. Eddie lay slumped against the base of the tree, stunned.

"Just fuck off, Jason," you warned. "You don't want to find out what your medicine tastes like."

He laughed, a condescending smile spreading across his waxen face.

"You're gonna hit me with that thing?" he teased. "I'm bigger than you, sweetheart. Don't get yourself hurt."

"Go ahead and hurt me," you retorted. "You'll just prove that you're the monster. Not Eddie."

He scowled, showing his teeth and contorting his mundanely handsome features into an ugly position. Your grip on the crowbar tightened.

"He's possessed by Satan!" Jason bellowed. "I am doing God's work by casting him from this community! From this earth! You... You little whore. Jezibel! You'll rot in hell. Both of you will!"

Fire rose in your chest, the seething burn of a hatred rooted so deep within you that it could never be removed. Jason had hurt you beyond repair; he'd brought you to tears with his words, mortified you in front of your peers, touched you like he owned you, made you believe in the self-loathing he'd inflicted on you every day since you were children. You still could feel his breath on your neck, his hand up your shirt, his laughter when you couldn't control your tears. All of it was horrifying; a nightmare you couldn't wake up from, a monster you couldn't escape because it had made itself a home your mind.

But none of it compared to the fury he sparked in hurting someone you loved.

You took a step forward, murder in your eyes.

"I am so. Fucking. Sick-"

You swung the crowbar at him; he dodged backward.

"-of your stuck up-"

Another swing; another dodge.

"-psychopathic-"

You swung again. He stumbled.

"-bullshit!"

You had him up against a tree, cornering him so he had nowhere to go. You seethed, knuckles white around the handle of the crowbar, shoulders heaving with your ragged breaths. He stared at you with wide, terrified eyes.

"Are you scared, Jason?" you taunted. "Nobody's ever fought back against you? Have they?"

You lunged, cackling when he flinched.

"I always knew you were a coward. Scaring the shit out of other people because you, yourself, are afraid. And of what? People who don't think, or act, or look like you? People who won't bend to your will? People who can see through all the weights you lift and punches you throw? People you can't control? Everyone knows that's why you hate Eddie so much. Because he never gave a single fuck what you or anyone else thought of him, and no amount of threats could make him fear you. And then you go and pull the oldest, slimiest white man trick in the good book and hide behind your religion; use it as an excuse to hurt the people who see you for exactly what you are. To the extent that you're willing to ruin their lives, even take them with your own disgusting hands. You are nothing but a sad, sniveling little roach, who's never known true friendship or respect in his life. It almost makes me feel bad for you."

You grinned maliciously, blood trickling between your teeth and dribbling down your chin. Jason visibly quivered when he realized it wasn't yours, but the boy's you had bit.

"Almost."

You thrust the crowbar upward under Jason's jaw, savoring the sickening, satisfying crunch of bone. Another swing, sent forward with every muscle in your body, and you cracked his nose, his skin splitting open and spurting blood down the front of his shirt. He let out an anguished sob, the sweetest noise you'd ever heard.

"Look at that!" your joyous holler echoed through the trees. "You can't even take a fucking hit."

You swung again, the sharp edge of the crowbar slashing open his cheek. He was thrown off balance; you brought the crowbar hard into his knees, not caring what damage you inflicted. As he crumpled, you beat him in the back, sending him down harder. He rolled over, crying out in agony, and you dipped the sharp end of the bar under his chin, tilting his head up to look at you; your booted foot pressed mercilessly into his chest, threatening to snap ribs.

"If you touch me, or anyone I care about ever again, it'll be me who destroys you. Not the wrath of your false god."

Jason whimpered in response. You spat in his face - one final blow - before dropping the crowbar and rushing back to Eddie, all of your rage forgotten at the sight of him bludgeoned and bleeding.

"Eddie..." you cooed, falling on your knees in front of him. "Oh, Eddie, your face..."

He silenced you by grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you, pressing you close with a ferocity you'd never witnessed in him beyond a D and D campaign. You closed your eyes and melted into him, opening your mouth so you could feel his tongue against your teeth. He tasted of blood; you snapped back to reality and pushed him away, concerned again for his well-being.

"Dude, that was the sexiest thing I've ever seen," Eddie gushed. His face was absolutely caked with blood, his teeth beaming white through black streaks as he grinned. "You were so fucking unhinged... Will you go out with me sometime?"

You chuckled, the sound leaving your chest in little more than a breath.

"Eddie, you're bleeding profusely," you reminded him. "And I think we're both concussed."

You removed the bandana from around his head, refastening it over his brow so it soaked up the blood and helped stop the bleeding. His knuckles were also split open from the force of punching Jason square in the jaw, so you covered them with a strip of fabric torn from the hem of your dress. He gazed at you dreamily, taking your hand in his once the makeshift bandage was adhered.

"You know I'm in love with you, right?" he confessed.

Your eyes met his reluctantly, heart jolting in your chest at hearing the words you've always wanted him to say.

"Ever since I met you, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," he continued. "I think you're amazing. And you just saved my fucking life. You're the most fucking incredible person I've ever known and if I'm not buried beside you I'll die twice."

You laughed at his dramatics, one of the many things you adored about him. His hand raised to your face, his thumb swiping the blood from your chin. The way he looked at you was like slipping into a warm pool - safe, comfortable, freeing. If someone as dark and cynical as Eddie Munson could trust someone enough to love them openly, you knew you could bring yourself to do the same - and he was the one who deserved your love most.

"We can pick out headstones once we make it out of this," you promised him. "But right now, we've gotta get you to the school. You need stitches and a good cleaning up."

Eddie obliged, allowing you to ease him off the ground and drape his arm across your shoulders, leaning some of his weight on you. As you plodded your way across the school's parking lot, he stopped, turning to face you.

"Kiss me again," he pleaded.

"I would love nothing more," you told him, "but we have to get you inside."

"Please, baby, just kiss me again."

The pet name made you shiver, a lightheadedness overcoming you that had nothing to do with blunt force trauma.

"If we die tonight, I wanna die thinking about what it's like to kiss you."

You scoffed, the sound playful as a drunken smile curled across your face.

"We're not gonna die," you stated. "At least not if you just let me get you some fucking first aid."

"God, I love you..."

Eddie leaned in and kissed you again, wrapping his arms around you to pull you in close to him. You held him tightly as you molded your lips to his, swearing in defiance of Heaven itself that you would never let him go.

[queenofsimpsblog]

You said requests were open soooo can I request a kind of Protective!Shuri x reader where the reader is so overwhelmed with her classes (or just one particular class - for me this semester it’s statistical coding as someone with NO coding experience, if you wanted to be specific) and Shuri, who’s already insanely protective, is comforting the reader? I can imagine Shuri just being so sweet, kissing away tears and in all seriousness telling the reader she “can drop the class right now” because if it makes her girlfriend upset, she doesn’t need to do it - Shuri’s the Queen of Wakanda, she’ll make sure they let you drop (to which the reader obviously says no - it’s a part of her major!). I just love it when people write Shuri as so attentive and protective instead of mean or toxic. Thank you SO MUCH if you write it!! I’m definitely requesting this fully for myself because it’s not even the second week of the semester yet and this coding is kicking my ass 😅 anyway thanks again if you do, no pressure if you don’t want to!!!

stressed out - shuri x reader

A/N: awwww that’s such a cute idea!! so sorry it took so long for me to write this… also i have absolutely no idea what statistical coding is like so i’m just making stuff up about it so sorry if this gets a little inaccurate

i added a bit of ✨spice✨ to the plot, hope that’s okay!

“code failed. please try again.” the robotic voice of your laptop taunted you as you groaned, rubbing your eyes.

statistical coding, in general, was a challenging course. even more so for people who had zero coding experience like you. but since the course was an important aspect of your major, you couldn’t drop it.

you were having an existential crisis at this point. your professor gave an assignment to design an algorithm to organise the medical files of your class, which had 150 people. the medical files were, of course, fake, to protect the privacy of everyone. the objective was to get everyone to more comfortable with organising several data samples. the assignment was kicking your ass.

beep.

your phone buzzed from your bed. you picked it up and looked at the notification.

shuri

hi sthandwa! we still on for today?

you groaned again. shuri planned a cute cafe date for you today. you were super excited until your professor’s assignment destroyed your friday night.

you

i’m sorry babe, gonna have to cancel

i don’t feel well

you hated lying to her. but it was just embarrassing to admit that you were struggling. shuri was the queen of wakanda, a genius. you already felt like you were inferior and weren’t enough for her. telling her you were struggling in a course she could probably finish in her sleep was something you’d never do.

you sighed and rubbed your eyes again, reaching for the monster can on your desk and chugged the remainder, chucking it in the trash can. cracking your knuckles, you pulled open your textbook to find the instructions for developing codes to organise large data samples.

about half an hour later, you heard a loud knock on your dorm door. you looked up and frowned. i didn’t call anyone over, who could it be?

you yanked open the door and saw shuri standing on the other side, looking angry.

“shuri? what’s up, why are you here?” you opened the door wider for her to enter.

“shouldn’t i be asking the questions? you tell me you don’t feel well, then you just go offline. i spammed you so much and you didn’t reply. i was so worried,”

“i’m sorry i was working,”

“shouldn’t you be resting if you’re sick?”

you sighed.

“fine. i lied. i’m not sick, i’m just busy,”

shuri scoffed at your words. “busy? you never lie to me sthandwa. what’s going on? is there someone else on the side?”

your eyes widened. “no! of course not! i was just doing some class work, alright? not a big deal. you can leave now,” you snapped.

shuri paused for a moment, realisation slowly hitting her. she noticed your locks looked messy. the bags under your eyes were huge. your skin looked pasty. and you looked incredibly exhausted.

you were stressed out.

“sthandwa, are you okay? and don’t give me some bullshit that you are, cause i know you’re not. tell me truth usana, let me help you,”

and with that, you broke down. sobs wrecked through your body as you collapsed on the floor, shuri quick on your side to hold you. you stayed like that, in her arms, for nearly half an hour. that’s when you calmed down and kept your gaze on the floor. you were too scared to admit to her what was on your mind.

“y/n, look at me,” she demanded softly. when you refused to move your head, she grabbed your chin for your gaze to meet hers.

“talk to me,”

you sighed and accepted your fate.

“i’m just stressed about my statistical coding class. my professor is an asshole that gives assignments all the time cause he thinks it’s helpful. but it’s not, cause he can’t teach for shit. and i’ve just been scared to tell you because…” you paused, not wanting to continue. shuri gently nudged you with her arm, which forced the words out of you.

“i just don’t want you to think i’m stupid. you’re a genius, and i’m just… average,” you sighed, tearing up again.

“sweetheart it’s alright to struggle every once in a while. i struggle sometimes too. my job isn’t easy,” she chuckled and you let out an exhausted smile.

“just because i make it seem like i understand very complicated things at the first reading, doesn’t mean that’s always the case. i think you’re wonderful. and you’re not stupid! not even close. you remember that one time i struggled to make this code, and you pointed out that it was because i added the numbers instead of multiplying them?”

you laughed at the memory. shuri smiled, knowing she was improving your mood.

“and you know, if it’s too much, you can drop the course. i can let the dean know. i hate to see my love overworked like this,”

“babe, you know i can’t do that! this is my major, i have to suck it up for the next couple years,”

“i refuse to let anyone make my princess feel like she isn’t worth it,” you swooned at her words.

both of you stayed like that together, in silence. it was peaceful. shuri’s presence had that effect on you.

she broke the silence. “okay, how about we take a little study break? go get changed. i’m taking you out for dinner,” you smiled and grabbed her shirt collar, pulling her into a sweet kiss.

oh, what would you do without your sweet shuri?

[acetone4veins]

Mean Girls + Quotes Part 2

Find part 1 here

More quotes that remind me of mean girls characters and their various relationships :)

Regina

"i became bitter and untouchable. i craved affection but even the mere thought of someone caring made my stomach turn."

unknown

"i have survived everything but i fear that i cannot survive myself."

Cynthia Chapman

"was i raised without love? or was i born unlovable?"

unknown

"am i lonely because no one cares, or am i lonely because i'm not strong enough to let anyone get close enough to care?"

Rob Hill Sr.

"of course i look angry all the time. my entire life i've been fighting a war. i am soaked in pain and sadness. the irony however, is that i'm not actually angry, i'm trying to learn how to be happy. and that in itself is a war."

unknown

Cady

"i thought - i want to go home. i want to be in a place that feels like home. where that was, i did not know."

Katie Kitamura

"i understood myself only after i destroyed myself. and only in the process of fixing myself did i know who i really was."

Sade Andria Zabala

“do you ever wonder where you took a wrong turn? where your life became the exact opposite of what you wanted it to be?”

unknown

"i have always tried to make a home for myself, but i have not felt at home in myself."

Jeanette Winterson

Janis

"of course i'm angry. do you have any idea how many times someone should have helped me?"

unknown

"hurt an artist and you'll see masterpieces of what you've done."

unknown

"i don't feel guilt at being unsociable, though i may sometimes regret it because my loneliness is painful."

Susan Sontag

Gretchen

"what a sick little head, your love always turns into obsession."

unknown

"i don't think people love me. they love versions of me i have spun for them, versions of me they have construed in their minds. the easy versions of me, the easy parts of me to love."

unknown

“i only know how to exist when i’m wanted.”

Mary Lambert

"i don't want to beg. i know you can feel it, my longing, the aching, my need for love. i don't want to beg. but oh god - oh god, please. please. love me. love me."

unknown

"for once i need to choose myself, or else i'm going to lose myself."

Veronika Jensen

Karen

“i believe in some blending of hope and sunshine sweetening the worst lots. i believe that this life is not all; neither the beginning nor the end. i believe while i tremble; i trust while i weep.”

Charlotte Brontë

Regina and Janis

"longing, how soft a word for such a ravenous feeling. how we hunger in silence."

Pavana

"dig your teeth into me. come on, i dare you. take a bite. open me up; raw and candy floss pink on the inside. make it hurt. i figure, you're going to hurt me one way or another. might as well be with your mouth."

Ashe Vernon

"i don't know what to do without you, i don't know where to put my hands."

unknown

"you are the knife i turn inside myself; that is love."

Franz Kafka

"i love you and i always will and i am sorry. what a useless word."

Ernest Hemingway

Regina and Cady

"i love you. i love you unconditionally. i loved you even in my ignorance. i loved you when i didn't even know. i just love you."

unknown

"and on some days, i wish our paths had never crossed because you don't know how heartbreaking it is to know that someone like you exists in this world and i cannot have you."

unknown

“i must have you exclusively, fiercely, possessively.”

Henry Miller

"i still haven't figured out how to sit across from you, and not be madly in love with everything you do."

William C. Hannan

“fuck my pride. fuck everything. i’m so desperately hungry for you.”

Henry Miller

Gretchen and Karen

"the way our fingers intertwine feels so natural and right; as if our hands hold memories of meeting in a thousand other lifetimes."

John Mark Green

"when i think of life, i think of you. when i think of love, i think of you. safe to say that i really like thinking about life with you."

unknown

"come on, dance with me. the earth is spinning. we can't just stand on it."

Dino Ahmetovic

Regina and Gretchen

"i suffer in my loving, and you know it."

Willa Cather

"i loved you to the point of ruin. i loved you until my lungs were filled with ash."

Tina Tran

[winnower-winnower]

Xivu Arath and Savathun really do just destroy me. The dynamic they have..

What truly kills me about them, and with oryx as well, is that despite what they’ve become, the sheer mass of years and experiences they’ve accumulated, smiles and wounds all around, they never feel like they’ve lost the core of their sibling-hood. I believe Oryx said it best when he reflected upon it:

“Oryx looks at her and for a moment, just a moment, he is nostalgic, he is sentimental. He thinks, imagine the years behind us, the things we’ve done. And yet being old doesn’t feel like a scar, does it? It hasn’t left me dull. I feel alive, alive with you, and every time I step back into this world from my throne I feel like I’m two years old again, at the bottom of the universe, looking up.”

Their character arcs revolving almost entirely around their siblinghood crushes me. They are written in such a way that like, yeah they’re huge incomprehensibly old and powerful “we clap and a star dies” figures, but they’re also still two years old, running off on adventures and smiling and laughing and rough-housing and pondering together. I think it’s beautiful that this dynamic never really goes away. Very little about how they regarded each other changed, godlike powers or no.

Until Oryx died. (Perhaps even earlier, when they all parted ways for a bit. I like to think they still visited one another with echoes every now and then). I also am not sure how much was actually covered in game about specifically Sav and Xivu’s reactions to his death. If there was I’d love to go read up on it if anyone knows where to find it!

That being said, I just. The death of a sibling, an older sibling, someone who you have galavanted across the universe with for longer than some galaxies and star systems have existed, what a shattering thing that would be. I’m a middle sibling myself, and Savathun’s perspective on that matter does intrigue me, but it’s Xivu Arath who I am most drawn to in this matter.

The death of her eldest sibling, her brother Oryx. We have an entire journal entry from her perspective in the books of sorrow that details the level of love and respect she had for him. I can imagine what kind of grief his loss would entail. Wavering, even if just for a moment, beneath the weight of this new truth to the universe, that oryx would not be present for the end of this great journey they started together. To see just how far the rolling strength of the hive, his family, could reach.

And then a further shattering, with Savathun’s betrayal, Xivu Arath is left alone. Completely, totally, alone. The youngest of the oldest gods, the youngest of the most fearsome gods. The most fearsome of the gods, because she is the last of them? Angry angry youngest child outlook on life, it must come through when Xivu comes to properly take the stage in the coming narrative. I want to see so, so much from her gosh.

Need that Xivu and Sav conversation on the current state of affairs, on the loss of a brother and a loss of a sister (for both, respectively) immediately. Angry and seething and oh, so sibling like of them.

[longing-for-rain]

On sexual abuse, trauma, and recovery

I’ve wanted to post something like this for a long time, because of things people have said directly to me and other things I’ve seen. It strikes me how people who haven’t experienced this really don’t understand how it feels, both in the moment and in the aftermath.

The reason I finally decided to make this post is actually on a more positive note—I’m writing this just after I’ve had my first real date in years. My first real date I’ve had the courage to go on after escaping a sexually abusive situation I endured for nearly a year during the COVID pandemic. I’m writing this to say that even though what I’m talking about it going to sound bleak and disturbing, it doesn’t end there. We can still move on. I used to think I would rather die than be looked at sexually again. I didn’t even want to go out in public. But I’m sharing because no matter how bleak what I’m about to say sounds, I’m still here. We don’t have to stay trapped; we don’t have to stay silent.

I’ll put the rest below, and please, read at your own risk because I will be discussing heavy topics such as sexual abuse and the aftermath of that.

I’ve learned a lot over the past few years, but probably the most important thing I’ve learned is that the idea that recovery is quick and easy is a myth. The idea that it’s easy to get justice when you’re abused is a myth. Some people will probably get angry at me for saying this, but in all honesty, I wish I’d been warned. That’s the part I truly wasn’t prepared for—how isolated I would feel in the aftermath, and how the people and systems that promised to always support victims failed me. I’m tired of being told that it’s easy to simply report and move on. It’s never that simple.

The first time it happened, I was naïve and drunk and blamed myself. I just blocked it out. By the time it fully hit home that I’d been assaulted, it was too late. I had no evidence of the event and knew nothing would come of it if I reported it. So I didn’t. It was painful enough that it happened. I couldn’t handle also being accused of being a lying whore trying to ruin an “innocent” man’s life for no reason. That’s how women like me are treated when we try to say anything.

That was right before COVID. During COVID, I was mostly online and that’s how I got into fandom again. I found comfort there, especially after what I’d been through, but unfortunately I repeated the same mistake I’d made the first time—I was naïve, I was somewhere unfamiliar, and way too vulnerable. Someone took advantage of that.

I don’t really want to go into details, but I was sexually groomed and abused over the course of about a year. I didn’t realize it at first, because that’s the cruel thing about grooming. When it starts slowly, you don’t realize what’s happening to you until it’s too late. I spent hours a day at times on the phone with this person. What I thought was “advice” was really just her pushing me into places (sexually) that she knew I wasn’t comfortable with. To this day I still don’t know if it was because she was interested in my sexually or if she just liked the idea of “corrupting” a much younger woman into destroying herself just like she had.

But at the time, I was blind to it. I thought it was just a toxic friendship. I felt hurt and traumatized but didn’t understand how to express why I was feeling the way I was. I didn’t yet recognize it as abuse, and even the slightest hint of that was crushed by my abuser and her friends. She knew the community better than me and how to manipulate it—how to make me look crazy for trying to come to terms with what happened. So ultimately, I simply blocked her, deleted every account I’d been associated with her on, and thought it would end there.

At the time it seemed like the best option. But later, I realized what I’d done. Those conversations were evidence, and I’d gotten rid of them all. So now I’m suffering the same fate I did the first time. I have no evidence. I have to deal with what happened, and I can’t prove it.

I did try to speak up, eventually, as many abused women do. I got a taste of why rape has a 2% conviction rate, why this is a crime that goes so often unpunished. People who barely knew the situation got involved, because they were friends of friends of the abuser. I was called things like “shit stirrer” and accused of “disrupting the community” for trying to say something. I lost friends I thought I could trust, either because they sided with my abuser or because they were too cowardly to say anything. And nobody has ever apologized for anything—not one. I’ll be honest. I seriously considered suicide multiple times and attempted once. The aftermath was even worse for me than the abuse in some ways. I was still living under the lie that as a victim, I’d have support and understanding from my community when in reality it was the opposite. Sometimes I feel like if it ever happened to me again, I would actually end my life. I don’t know if I could go through this whole process again.

So yes, that’s why it’s isolating. That’s why it’s so painful; why “just report it” is bullshit. If you haven’t been through something like this, don’t even pretend to understand. You will lose friends. You will be isolated and ostracized from communities you thought could support you. You will watch people repost essays about supporting victims on their social media turn around and blame you for your own abuse. You will watch people use sexual harassment and abuse in ship wars about fictional characters and then participate in your real life abuse. People will make fun of your sexual abuse. People will tell you your sexual abuse is hot. People will tell you that they understand, then side with your abuser anyway, after you’ve already opened up to them.

That’s the reality. Why is it this way? I don’t know. I think a lot of it is deeply ingrained misogyny, which is why I think it’s so so important to recognize and call out the misogyny intertwined in our culture and communities. It’s what creates the environment that allows this to happen and isolated victims from each other.

This is rambling, I know, but I’m getting frustrated by some of these anons spouting off about something they clearly know nothing about. Stop treating it like some easy thing that just goes away and that people actually care about sexual trauma and victims. They don’t.

[celluloidbroomcloset]

Not to beat a dead horse or anything with the masc Stede discourse but the way he was acting in the bar with all the other pirates made me think too hard about my time in highschool and how hard I tried to be “masc” to fit in, trying to present myself as more manly to others even though I never really wanted that, and neither did Stede I’m sure. It was merely the idea of being accepted in a general populace, even though it was toxic. It irks me to see how some people try to fit Stede in a (1/2)

Traditionally masculine role when that was never was he was or ever really wanted to be. Even in his dream, it felt like an exaggeration of what he “should” be. Just a lot of self consciousness. From one toxic environment to another and now to finally find yourself and freedom. Let men be effeminate and happy. To see Stede be so soft and gentle and enjoy pretty fabrics and flowers means so much to me tbh. No gay man needs to wear the “pants” in the relationship. Sorry for the rambling!! (2/2)

Yeah, I think that both the scenes in "Man on Fire" and the pub scene in "Wherever You Go" are intended to show Stede trying, and ultimately failing, to fit into his society. He wants it more in "Man on Fire," but in neither does he actively seek it out; it more or less comes to him, and he indulges in it for a bit because he's someone who has never been able to fit into the space where he's "supposed to." Then it gradually becomes less and less fun and more painful—he likes the attention, then he gets drunker, he starts thinking of Ed or of what he's lost, he gets depressed, he gets angry. Both sequences end with a woman nearly killing him for performing this role that is not and never has been him. Stede could absolutely become that man, because any man could, but it would destroy every part of him and it's not what he really wants or thinks he should be. And that is very important. It's

I think his dream at the start gets a bit misread as being his ultimate fantasy self that he's aspiring to—being a badass, killing the bad guy, getting Ed back, etc. But there are clear cracks there—Izzy reminds him that he chose to leave, Ed doesn't forgive him, Stede himself begins crying as soon as he sees Ed. Stede is not delusional; he's gone through an entire arc of learning how little fantasies conform to reality, and even his own dream self fails to be perfect. He doesn't try to make the fantasy work, and seems to realize that his attempt to create the fantasy (getting a fancy ship so he can look good when he goes to find Ed) almost ended with him not getting back to Ed at all. Having a fantasy and truly wanting and believing you can become that fantasy are two different things.

Stede's not deluded and he does understand himself. He gets Ed back wearing the dirty white shirt he's been wearing for months, and he does it by being his kind, earnest self, even when other people laugh at him. None of that reads as a man trying to be "traditionally masc."

[trellia]

I think this post is a long time coming. But also, maybe 1 - someone has pointers to help and 2 - maybe someone else is struggling similarly and would like to know said pointers too.

I have been quite the recluse the past few months. From everyone, really. Why that is why I’m making this post. If you feel like I’ve been drawing away, you’re not wrong. I have. I’ve not been doing too good since… I’d say October. A lot of events have turned my world around for one, realizing what I am living in and not what I thought I was living in. That was something on its own…. At the same time, I was going through the steps to figure out if I have ADHD. I found out a couple months ago that yes, indeed, I do have ADHD.

The diagnosis was first a relief: finally, I now know there’s nothing wrong with me, I’m just wired different. However, relief soon turned into contempt. I became very, very angry. I am very angry. I just reached my 40’s. For at least 35+ years, I’ve been degraded and hurt by the people who should have protected me, understood me, especially in my childhood. Teachers, principals and parents of other children took part in this bullying campaign their children had going, only because I wasn’t following the ‘norms’. I endured trauma so great that I can barely function today.

I mean, I look at the videos of my childhood and I see it immediately: I’m not like the other kids. I’m more hyper, excited, and I just want everyone to take part in the fun, but I’m too much for it. It’s right there. I was called names by adults, and scolded for not doing things the way neurotypical people would. I was called lazy. I was told I don’t care for anyone but myself when, in fact, I have always put everyone ahead of me because I would rather see them happy than be happy myself. So you can imagine how difficult it was to hear that I am selfish and don’t care for anyone else…

I’m also angry at the current people in my life. Some of which have told me to ‘fix’ myself because I was an inconvenience they didn’t want to deal with. So I tried EVERY way to do so, and of course that didn’t work because I was trying to put bandaids on symptoms rather than help with what was the actual problem, but then when I asked for help, I was shunned away like I didn’t deserve it. I lost an entire decade (my late 20’s and my 30’s) asking myself what the hell is wrong with me, why am I such a terrible person, and why can’t I do anything right, and spending my 30’s walking on eggshells everywhere AND in the rpc because I was connection deprived and needed everyone to love me, which led to nefarious people taking advantage and hurt me further. (that’s a post for another day.)

Now here’s the main problem: I’m so angry I want to hurt someone. Not physically, but in every other way. It doesn’t matter who you are, I just want to lash out, whoever you are, friend or otherwise. An example: a friend made a new original character that is actually perfectly fine and pretty good, it’s a great OC! — but inside all I want to do is destroy that break their love for the OC and ruin it for them. Just… because. And that’s NOT okay. The good news is that I see it, I realize it. Which is why I have isolated myself. None of my friends deserve this. But I am angry. I am enraged, because I feel I’ve lost most of my life ‘fixing’ myself until I masked so hard I didn’t even realize until it slipped at 28. I know exactly when it slipped too.

Also, considering the kind of world we live in, I feel like I’ve lived past the mid-mark of my life. I’m not sure I’ll live up to 50 at this point. And it’s not fair. It’s not fair at all that I had to go through all this and still suffer. So yes, I’m very angry. But I also don’t WANT to hurt anyone. Especially not the people I care for… This is why I have not been on disco.rd. I have removed FB (because I wanted to for a long time tho lol ), tiktok… And have mostly removed myself from public spaces.

If you have pointers or ideas on how to get past that anger, please, please share. I don’t really know what to do with it. I don’t know how to tame it. And it scares me tbh. I don’t want to be like this. This isn’t me… but it’s so hard not to be angry…

So… yah: if I don’t respond on disco or otherwise, or not right away, it’s not you, I’m the one stepping away so I won’t say something I really don’t mean just for the sake of harming someone because I can’t accept what has been done to me.

If you read this far, thank you. Otherwise, here’s the jinx of it:

tldr; I was officially diagnosed with ADHD and realized I’ve been treated terribly by my peers because of it and shunned away when I asked for help, so now I’m extremely angry at everything and want to hurt someone (anyone) though I don’t really want to. How do I get over this?

[crushedsweets]

it’s been a while back so i’m w more song analysis!! this is too long i’m warning u now. in fact this might not even be readable im so sorry it’s just. so much rambling 😭

when memories snow (more mitski mm also i got tickets for her tour and i will not shut up ab it!!! she’s so cool!!!!!!!) is incredibly tim coded. the very sinister chords at the chorus, really makes you *feel* him spiralling - and the LYRICS ugh very ‘i’m trying to ignore/suppress my memories but they keep coming back against my will’ slash ‘bottling up all my feelings and forging on with my work. pretending they don’t exist’

hate yourself by tv girl is very nina x kate (in the sense of kate watching nina destroy herself for a man who does not even like her) ough. ‘i think you’d fall in love with anyone who fell in love with you / and they frequently do’ BC KATE DID!! kate fell in love with her!! also ‘i’ll just wait til those arms belong to me’ is so subtly manipulative which is very. yeah. kate’s definitely not perfect and i wouldn’t put her above being like that if she really wanted to. + the deceptively happy instrumental with vaguely dark lyrics = nina being overly outgoing and social to make up for the fact that her mental state is in absolute shambles (poor bby)

the wolf by siamés is both tim and brian but i think leans more brian (what is it with this man that makes me think of ‘walking music’. ykwim? the chain, the wolf, house of the rising sun all remind me of him. all very slow-threatening-determined-walk songs) once again, driving beat, heavy bassline. (i play bass guitar so i love a song w an interesting bass part) i think shows resilience as well as grounding - imo he’s always been one of the more mature / level-headed creeps, to the point he’s very self aware. this man knows exactly what he’s doing at all times. ‘somewhere far away i can hear your call’ even in the future when he thinks he’s escaped from slender he knows deep down he’ll never be truly free…. yes ok

keep myself alive by get scared for jane. she’s so angry - AS SHE SHOULD BE and i feel it’s just a audible version of her rage. ‘i just wanna leave this place behind / everytime i see your face in mine’ because her and jeff have the same burned face thing going on…….. ough. she can never escape from the man who ruined her life. the guitar shifting from this melancholy, reverb-y tone in the verses to the loud distortion in the chorus reflecting her mood shifting from self-pity to raw anger

bonus: class of 2013 by mitski x toby

i should rlly make a playlist for each creep but i use musi not spotify 💔

- 🌙 anon

sorry for making u read all of this ❤️

anon. oh my god. i need you to know how often i think about this ask. and how guilty i feel knowing i shouldve responded forever ago but kept putting it off. im going to respond now with shame. thank you so much for your patience. my god

when memories snow for tim is soooo real. i associate him with a longing for life before slendy, while also repressing it cuz it hurts knowing itll never ever come back. going to bars, hanging out in his friends apartments, going to class, late night driving... "I shovel all those memories, clear the path to drive to the store" i think even the imagery of him shoveling snow out of a driveway gives off that sort of strong, cold idea of him. and 'drive to the store' obv being...proxy work... SO SAD

ALSO FUCK NINAKATE MENTION IM IN TEARS ok listen. theyre both really bad. and i super agree that kate might be a bit deceptive and manipulative (intentionally or not) cuz she wants nina to completely remove jeff and take his place (NOT HIS ROLE, just his place in ninas arms). also "how long will it take before you start to hate yourself and go straight to the arms of someone else" i think its undeniable that ninas obsession with romance is related to her own self image, and kate doesnt really like herself that much either. "im not saying that you love me, im not saying anything" OHH BUT SHE WANTS NINA SOOO BAD... man.

also im absolutely in love with how you take the sound itself into account, not just lyrics. the way you explain the wolf connecting to brians determination, reslience, and grounding presense is SOOO PERFECT and i can see it in the first few lyrics as well. the also "sneaking in the pain, every truth becomes lie / i wont trust myself once i hear your call" THATS TIM AND BRIAN COME ON GUYS DO YOU HEAR THIS

also i love keep myself alive. i heavily agree she has every right to be angry, and thats a core part of her character - rage, grief, strength. "to sleep i of course think i'm stronger now / to sleep i gotta catch myself" im crying. the sleep menton + she feels alone. she has a support system, a literal wife, but she still holds all of her grief on her own shoulders. who the fuck else can relate to being violently stalked for months, walking in on your parents being tortured together, being attacked, nearly burnt alive, then LOSING your parents? also "how could this dark cloud make me stronger now" i think a lot of people would have told her that her experience made her a survivor and made her strong and whatnot. but i dont think she feels that way. i think she feels like a victim, she feels tortured, she feels like that same little girl who'd sleep in her parents bed after a nightmare - but this isnt a nightmare she can wake up from. her parents bed burnt to ashes. there is relief in just letting yourself grieve and hurt - but she's so beyond focused on being strong. and it doesnt make sense to her. doesnt make sense how she can be strong after all of that . but she is, cuz she has to be

ALSO YES OH MY FUCKING GOD CLASS OF 2013 DFUCK FUCKFUCKF FIFJF FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKK i dont even need to explain why this gets me. yall already know. my god

[ridiculousnighttears]

Gasping for air, unable to reach the clouds.

Suffocating on my own failure.

Powerless, pathetic, destroyed.

My eyes are red like a cherry.

A prisoner in my own mind. Chains are holding me down from loving myself. Only a mirror is there, in my cell. And when I look at it, I only see a broken face. All the pieces are scattered on the floor.

The voices wouldn’t shut up. They constantly scream failrefailurefailure and I can’t do anything, but hold back tears that will show the world how weakened I am. How I fell from the sky, where I was better than most enemies and monsters. I can’t do anything, but be angry at the world and myself.

Blameblameblame. There’s someone to blame for all of this, ain’t it? Perhaps it’s the reflection in the broken mirror, or maybe the woman who gave birth to me, or maybe the woman who destroyed all kind of confidence I had. It might be all of them. Because they kept ruining whoever I was. Now I’m just some demolished parts of a girl who wanted to take in whatever good life gave her.

I can’t help but caress my own face, while looking in the mirror. I don’t feel real, I don’t feel like a human being. My skin is colder than the winter, and my eyes are so big, so dark, so filled with desperation. My lips are trembling, and my ears are almost bleeding, because I use music to make my thoughts quiet. Notenoughnotenoughnotenough.

Dizzy. Shaking, as I hold my favorite pen, as my fingers are covered in blue blood, as I pick up the skin from them, as blue and red blood mix. I’m drowning in the lyrics, cutting deeper than any knife. I’m burning under the water, hotter than the summer, in which I first died. I’m crying for the times where life was nice and every morning wasn’t a nightmare.

Pleading for mercy, wanting to fly high.

Drinking from the cup with ugly memories.

Weak, sentimental, idiotic.

My lips are bleeding like a cloud.

[acestories]

So, I know this isn't technically my writing blog (though I could make it), but I'm working on a story that I feel like at least someone here will like.

"In some ways the world hasn’t changed; Karens still scream at grocery store clerks for no reason, Douchebags think they own the roads, and the sun continues to rise every morning. But, it’s definitely changed; people fly through the air on their own, a car mechanic lifts the car he’s working on with his bare hand, and a thief outruns a squad of police cars. 

But, I’m getting ahead of myself. 2020 was terrible already, but as if that wasn’t enough it had one last fucking piece of shit to throw in our faces. Christmas night, there was a violet star in the sky. By new years eve, it had become a sun. By new years day, a violet mist that brought with it plague, one with a 10% mortality rate, and the rich and powerful hid themselves away from it. As they always did.

But as it turned out, ⅕ of those who survived it got what could only be called Superpowers. And very few of the rich and powerful got Superpowers. The inevitable started to happen. 

And where do I fit into all of this? Well, I'm the ñonbinary cat boy waiting for their take out to be ready. What? Just because I got Superpowers doesn't mean I don't want tacos. And these guys make a gochujang teriyaki sauce that is to die for. And I'm not gonna let some random ass fuck wad villain destroy this place, I can't recreate the sauce! 

The villain (who I think called himself Syndrome or some shit like that, I can't rememeber) charged at me, fist raised high. I'm able to dodge at the last minute, the concrete street corner shattering as it took the blow, which when combined with my latest bruises, are enough to tell me that this guy has one of those Escalating Strength powers in addition to the basic stuff.

Gotta take them out fast, before they start punching Blackholes or something. I think someone can do that?

The villain starts monologuing; ooooooh, his name is "Symptom." That's actually kinda cool, I gotta admit. Regardless, thank fuck this guy is long winded. Or really into L.A.R.P.ing. 

Doesn't matter now though; I charge at him with the speed of a bullet and unleash a flurry of blows. After a few seconds of what sounds like a machine gun going off, he starts to fall backwards, a look of surprise on his big stupid, neck-bearded face.

Heh, I caught him Monologuing. Guess that makes me a sly cat instead of a sly dog. :D

Oh yeah, the cat parts. While only ⅕ of survivors got super powers, over half of survivors got "fantasy bits." I got turned into a cat boy, but I've seen people with other parts. Someone I went to high-school with got turned into an Orc. 

Oh, and these things aren't a package deal, but there is enough overlap that it's testing fate to make a cat girl angry. So the Boomer who's screaming and making threats at me for not saving his car is either really brave or really stupid. I'm betting on the latter. 

Regardless, my food is ready and I wish to return home, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do.