#me: I want you to know that I’d willingly lay down my life for you

[bnha-more-like-bnh-gay]

Tw: izuku’s self sacrificial tendencies and low self esteem

Izuku being so self sacrificial and just 1000% willing to die for his friends, and really just for anyone, and his friends are so fucking stressed about it :/

Like. It’s so unhealthy, but this kid is just willing to die to protect his friends and genuinely doesn’t understand why it freaks them out. He one time tells them point blank, “I’d die for you” and doesn’t understand why they’re like, “maybe let’s not do that????” He’s just so used to people not caring if he dies, and he thinks that it’s an okay/healthy way to show love and affection

Like, I imagine it is most detrimental with kiri, Shouto, Iida, Uraraka, Aoyama, and tsu. Like kiri is so insistent on telling izuku how manly he is, and how he admires him, and he starts to see how little izuku values his own life and it freaks him out. Like, izuku just doesn’t understand why they’re all telling him to stop and slow down, or why he needs to not jump into fights without backup. But instead keeps telling them that he’d be fine if he died protecting his friends, and it’s so earth shattering to them all

Shouto understands a bit more where izuku is coming from, but he is just so terrified of losing his first friend. Todoroki “ride or die” Shouto does NOT approve. He tries to stop izuku from putting up with bakugou’s bullshit too. He can see how bakugou impacts izuku’s mental health, and he’s the first one to try and separate them and keep izuku out of harms way. Because he knows what being around someone who torments you does to a person, and izuku, who’s so idiotically brave and kind, who sticks his nose in other people’s business for the sake of heroism and wanting them to feel safe, fucking deserves to have the same kind of annoying, amazing, really fucking odd help and support. And if Shouto can provide it, then of course he will

Iida has seen first hand how willing izuku is to jump in to protect his friends-they all have, but I’m talking about the hosu incident-and he’s so grateful for izuku helping him there, but Jesus does it terrify him how izuku just keeps doing it with no regards for his own life. He almost lost tensei, he can’t lose izuku

Uraraka knows how strong izuku is, they all do, but this dude is stressing her the fuck out with his lack of self preservation. She needs her best friend alive, thank you??? She admires him so much in the beginning, his bravery and heroic personality, and that continues, but she’s coming to realize that some of that bravery comes from such a horrible place of not caring if he lives or dies and she’s horrified

Aoyama. The fucking guilt he has right now. Because he knows where izuku is coming from to some degree, and he knows that it’s partially his fault. That if he wasn’t in cahoots with the L.O.V., izuku wouldn’t be so. Like this. He’s not stupid, he knows he’d still be like this. But he wouldn’t have the added pressure of wanting to protect Aoyama, his friend. And Aoyama doesn’t know what to do because he has to help keep his parents safe, but holy shit, what if izuku actually gets killed??

Tsu is rational, but she’s also good at looking at things from other people’s perspectives. But it just hurts so much to see how izuku views his self worth. She understands to a degree, because he grew up with pretty shitty influences (bakugou, the entirety of Aldera middle school, etc.), but she also does. Not. Get. It. She doesn’t want to get it. She loves her friends, and she knows they’re strong, hell, she’s strong as hell, but it’s just terrifying that this 16 year old, who is one of her best friends, who has saved all of their lives several times, is just so. Lackluster when it comes to keeping himself safe.

Mic (because it wouldn’t be one of my rants if I didn’t include my desire for this man to adopt me, but since that can’t happen, we project into also wanting him to adopt izuku) is just so devastated that this kid, a fucking child, a baby has to fight in a goddamn war. This is ridiculous. But just that he’s also so willing to die for literally anyone???? He’s seen where that got Oboro, and fuck if it doesn’t terrify him that, what if the green bean gets irrevocably hurt?? He’s such a kind, and thoughtful, and smart kid, but he’s also so fucking stupid. He doesn’t even mean it as an insult, it’s just so frightening that this child he’s supposed to be protecting is taking it upon himself to try and fix this major issue that has gotten multiple adults, pro-heroes, killed, maimed, and otherwise injured. AND HE IS A 16 YEAR OLD WITH A SHIT LOAD OF TRAUMA. FUCK. And he can’t even do much to try and keep him out of harms way! Hell, the kid isn’t even in his homeroom! But the war is coming and he can’t keep any of the kids away from it, and that’s even worse.

[thefallennightmare]

The Coyotes Cry-One

*gif made by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: MafiaBoss!TattooArtist! Noah Sebastian x OFC.

Warnings/Tropes: violence, death, swearing, smut(very mature), angst, fluff, forced proximity, forbidden love, dark romance, mafia themes, arranged marriage, tattoo artist.

Summary: Centered on the story of a young bride whose fairy-tale vision of the Concrete Jungle is shattered when her father, part of the Irish Crime Family; McManus strikes a marital peace deal with the mafia head of OMNS, Noah Sebastian. Scarlett is faced with rage and conflict, as she is forced to work alongside her new husband in his tattoo shop that fronts for his mafia dealings. Devastating events leave Scarlett with the realization that there is more to Noah than meets the eye. "I would willingly, lay down my life for you if I had to." The power of love is thicker than blood.

Authors Note: Here is chapter one! I don't think this series will be more than six parts but you never know with how often I'm always adding things. This series will have mature themes throughout as a warning.

Tags[OPEN]: @thescarlettvvitch @sammyjoeee @happi-goth @lma1986 @iknownothingpeople @vinyardmauro @malice-ov-mercy @concreteemo @wheezybrenda @thisbicc @malerieee @mrs-zimmerman @srorgana1 @miserylovescompany1195-blog @embracethereaper42 @lizzieseveride @eclipseeetop @sundamariis @calleyx13 @krisslee18 @princessgh0st @aprosiacperson @xxrainstorm @ourdiabolikal-rapture @iamamatus @klutzy-kay24 @cookiesupplier @bngurngheart @idwt-money @rain-down-on-me

NOAH

The screams were muted due to the concrete confines of the room, the cold, moist air circulating us in a suffocating grip. But none of that mattered, the only thing that did was strapped to the chair in front of me. Cleaning the sharp blade on the once-white handkerchief, I clicked my tongue at the raw screams. 

“Scream all you want. No one can hear you all the way down here,” I said while pointing to the concrete walls. “I mixed the concrete myself with a special formula. Think of it as soundproof.” 

The man spat blood at my feet, nearly missing my black boots. “Fuck you!” 

A chuckle to the left of me and I glanced over to one of my right-hand men, Joakim. Although, we in OMNS always called him Jolly. 

“I applaud the fire in you,” Jolly nodded at the man. “You’ll need it.” 

Twirling the knife between my fingers, I yet again asked the same question that I asked three times previously. 

“Who killed Vincent?” 

“I already told you fuckers, I don’t know!” The man, Barry, choked out on a mouth full of blood. “You’re asking the wrong guy!” 

As Barry fought against the bindings, the chair scraping against the ground at our feet, I hummed in mock disappointment. “No, Barry. I don't think we are. My intel tells me that someone in the Irish Mafia killed a dear friend of mine.” 

“I hate to tell you, your intel is wrong,” Barry said with a dry chuckle. 

Suddenly his screams of agony sounded like music to my ears as I dug the knife deep into his thigh directly above the previous wound that Jolly had given him with the screwdriver. My hair fell into my eyes and I hastily brushed it back with my large hand, blood smearing in the dark strands. I’d been due for a haircut for the last few weeks but haven’t found anyone able to give me the correct Levi cut since my older barber passed away. 

“My intel is never wrong,” I gritted out through clenched teeth while twisting the knife deeper.

Barry was a blubbering mess, dark tendrils of his hair covered the agony on his face so with a sharp nod from me, Jolly stood behind Barry and ripped his head back so I could watch in pleasure. 

“Now, I’m only going to ask one more time,” I twisted the knife deeper. “Who killed Vincent?” 

He did his best to writhe away but with my knife piercing him in place and Jolly’s tight grip on his hair, there was nowhere for Barry to run. Blood dripped from his mouth, his nose, and the cut on his eyebrow. Before we captured him, he had the looks of a movie star but now, I couldn't help but cringe. 

“I already told you,” he sobbed, a mess of blood and snot. “I swear.”

Jolly and I shared a look for a brief moment before we pushed away from Barry to slink over to the far end of the room to have a conversation. 

“Do you believe him?” Jolly tied up his hair into a messy bun. 

I placed my hands on my hips and sighed. “I don’t think he knows who killed Vincent but he knows the right direction we need to look. We need to crank it up a notch and show him that OMNS isn't going to back down from this.” 

Instantly, he understood and while he retreated up the stairs to my office, I titled my head at Barry. 

“What family do you work for?” I asked. 

His breathing was shallow and unsteady thanks to the hard blows of Jolly’s fists to his ribs but I had to marvel at this kid's drive to remain loyal. 

“The Walsh’s,” he eventually answered. 

My brows furrowed in confusion. “The Walsh’s haven’t been around since they moved their operations back to Boston. Why are you still here running the streets for them?” 

Barry lifted his heavy head and wore a smug smile. “Call me committed.” 

“No, I don't think that’s it,” I shook my head and took two large steps towards him, him shrinking back into himself. “I think it’s the fact that you’re lying to me and I fucking hate liars.” 

“Fucking shit!” 

He cursed when I ripped out the knife from his thigh to press the blade against his neck. 

“You’re insane,” Barry shuddered when he noticed the playful gleam in my eyes. 

“Maybe,” I shrugged. “But I also don’t like liars. Now, I’ll ask again. What family do you work for?” 

“It’s a new family on the rise called O’shove it up your ass,” he spat in my face. 

Literally. 

His saliva and blood dripped down my cheek but I didn’t even flinch and made no effort to wipe it away. Instead, I broke out into a wide smile when I heard Jolly returning with something special in tow; something that made Barry’s eyes widen in fear. 

“Wh-what the fu-fuck, man?! Do you just have that lying around?” He stuttered. 

Glancing over my shoulder, I extended my hand to Jolly who in turn placed the handle of the katana in my palm. Standing straight now, I studied the old sword with careful precision. 

“This used to be my great-great-great grandfathers; passed down through each generation. It might be old but I have the blade sharpened every once in a while, just in case,” I said while slowly removing the blade from the sheath. 

The dim light overhead cast its faded yellow glow on the sharp blade and something inside of me twinged with sheer delight. 

“Ju-ju-st in case fo-for what?” 

Jolly snorted at the stuttering mess of Barry while leaning against the concrete wall. 

“Tell us what we want to know and you won’t have to find out.” 

The sharp tip of the katana pressed lightly against Barry’s jugular, all it would take would be one flick of my wrist to end it all however I refrained, not wanting to end the fun before I got what I needed. 

“What family do you work for?” I asked again, this time with less patience than the last time. 

Barry’s eyes glanced down from the long blade at his throat to Jolly then finally up to me as I towered over him. His bottom lip wavered as he finally nodded. 

“Okay, okay. Promise you won’t kill me?” 

He tried to wager but to humor him, I gave a curt nod. “Tell me what I want to know and I’ll think about it.”

“Fuck,” Barry sobbed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m good as dead anyway. The McManus family don’t like rats and a low-level drug dealer like me isn’t worth saving.” 

My grip on my katana slipped slightly at the name but I was quick to recover. “The McManus?” 

He nodded widely. “ Yea. I work for the brothers; Connor and Murphy. I deal their drugs and run their errands.”

“So you’re their bitch?” Jolly asked. 

Barry’s shoulders fell. “Essentially, yes.” 

“Did the McManus brothers kill Vincent?” I asked while tightening my grip on the handle of the katana. 

“No,” he shook his head, the blood from the wound above his eye now pooling into his eyes. “But they might know who did it. I can try and set up a meeting with them, on your behalf. Maybe they can lead you in the direction you’re looking for?” 

Jolly gave me a look and I held up a finger, not quite finished with my conversation with Barry. 

“Why the fuck would they listen to you if you’re just their bitch?” 

This brought a wicked smile to his face as he used his shoulder to wipe away the blood from his chin. 

“Because Murphy McManus doesn't like it when his daughter is threatened.” 

A loud rumble erupted in my chest, like a ravenous growl, as I dug the blade of the katana deeper into Barry’s neck, blood now oozing from the fresh wound. I ignored his wails of pain, now only seeing red. 

“You’ve got some balls kid to threaten the daughter of one of the most feared Irish Mafia families,” I said. 

Barry shrugged in his binds. “I didn’t say it would be coming from me. Word on the street is that McManus' grandfather had issues with your grandfather some odd years ago. They’d believe me if I said the great Noah Sebastian was looking to start a turf war.” 

With a scowl, I snapped my head at Jolly. “Get this piece of shit his phone so he can make the call.” 

Never once faltering the blade from Barry’s neck, I watched with narrowed eyes as Jolly removed one of the binds around his wrist and tossed the phone on his lap. 

“Make the meeting. If I hear one threat on the daughter, I’ll end your life before you even hang up the phone,” I seethed behind the mask of my hair as it fell into my eyes. 

My heart beat like a thunderstorm in my chest at the thought of the McManus daughter. No one knew of her and what she meant to not only the family but me as well; besides my closest allies. 

Barry’s fingers worked fast to type out a message before showing me the screen and with my free hand, I snatched it from him to read it. 

Barry: The brother's food will be delivered at six p.m. tonight. 

Unknown: What’s on the menu? 

Barry: Japanese with a side of Swiss.

“Joakim is Swedish,” I corrected Barry. “I’m assuming this whole dinner rous is to keep the authorities off your back if they go snooping?” 

“Look at you! I think you earned yourself a gold star,” Barry joked. 

Jolly’s fist collided with his face, his neck snapping to the side, and the faint red mark from his ring began to rise on Barry’s cheek. 

“Let me guess, he’s the muscle between the two of you?” Barry spat out a chunk of blood. 

Not bothering to look away from his phone as a new message came in, I answered his question. 

“No, that’s Ash. Trust me, you don’t want to meet him.” 

Unknown: Dinner will be served in the study.  6 o’clock. 

“It’s set,” I tossed the phone to Jolly who dropped it to the ground seconds before his boot came crashing down on it. 

“What the fuck! You guys owe me a new phone!” 

Placing the sheath back over the katana, I set it on the table along with the other wide variety of weapons and turned back to Barry with my hands crossed behind my back; grasping the weapon tightly. He glanced between Jolly and me and noticed the sinister gleam dancing behind my honey eyes. 

“Hang on,” he began thrashing in the chair, free hand swinging widely. “You said I could live.” 

“I did. But watch what you say next.” 

Quickly, Jolly grabbed Barry’s free arm to drag his still-bound body over to the table behind me and held his wrist down. His hand was on display for my wicked plan. 

“Barry, I have a question for you. If you answer wrong, well-,” I pulled out the hammer from behind my back and shook it in front of him. 

His eyes widened in fear but I paid no mind to it, simply asked my question. 

“Will Murphy’s daughter be there tonight?” 

“Fuck no! Dumb broad never leaves her bedroom,” Barry answered. “She’s holed up in there all hours of the day. The only time she leaves is at 8 o'clock for her nightly walks.” 

Jolly sucked in a breath just as I raised the hammer, bringing it down on Barry’s pinky, whose cries were overshadowed by the noise of his bones breaking.

“Why are you so obsessed with this broad?!” 

I brought the hammer down again, this time breaking his ring and pointer finger. Now he was practically having an exorcism with how he was moving about on the chair, struggling to break free from the binds. 

“One more question then I’m finished with this game,” I said while craning my neck to the side before getting eye level with the man. “Do you suspect the McManus family killed Vincent?” 

While he stayed silent, the look that flashed over his hazel eyes told me everything I needed to know. Turning on my heels, I dropped the hammer on the table and began walking upstairs to leave Jolly to clean up until Barry’s voice halted me in my tracks. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the broad pulled the trigger herself. She’ll do whatever she can to get Daddy’s attention since she was never the favorite..” 

My shoulders went rigid and I could faintly hear Jolly mutter under his breath something in Swedish before I grabbed the gun from behind my back that had been tucked in the waist paint of my black slacks and fired two rounds straight into Barry’s chest. 

“Noah,” Jolly started. 

I waved him off before dropping the gun on the table. “Let’s be real, Jolly. We weren’t letting him walk out of here alive anyway. 

“McManus,” he sighed while rubbing his jaw. “Why does that name sound familiar?” 

I cleaned the blood from my fingers and rings before letting out a long breath. I knew he wouldn’t remember the name but that name haunted me for years, plagued my entire existence in more ways than one. 

“They’re one of the most notorious Irish Mafia families. Their lineage started in Ireland generations ago before relocating to Boston where the McManus brothers were raised by their grandfather, Fergal. They moved to Los Angeles when the brothers were in their mid-twenties.” 

“Wait,” Jolly’s head snapped over towards me. “The twins that went on that killing spree all those years ago in Boston. The last anyone heard from them is when they shot Yakavetta in open court.” 

“Exactly why they moved here. Fergal didn't appreciate the hot trail on them so they hid out here for a few years. But Fergal couldn’t handle laying low for long because he began building the ranks here. Overstepping on my grandfather's turf, because he was still young at the time.” I grabbed the weapons we used on Barry and tossed them into the bucket of bleach in the utility sink. 

“You know a lot about this family,” Jolly noted. 

I hummed. “My grandfather told me all about them growing up. He wanted to make sure I was well versed in the McManus family once I took over.” 

Glancing down at myself, I hummed again in displeasure when I noticed the blood spatter all over my white turtleneck.

Should have worn the black one, idiot.

I went about cleaning up the mess, ignoring the slumped-over body in the chair for a moment. 

“The daughter. Do you think she did it?” Jolly wondered. 

I halted unraveling the plastic we used to wrap the dead bodies for a few seconds before letting my shoulders drop slightly. “I don’t believe so. While the McManus brothers do hire hitmen to do their dirty work, there’s no way Murphy would make his own blood do it.”

“I know there’s some sort of history between you and her. With all of us-” 

His words trailed off when I snapped my eyes over to him. “There is no history, Jolly. She’s just someone who went to high school with us. That was years ago and I doubt she even remembers that we went to the same school. She was too busy being preoccupied with other things.” 

All of us in OMNS grew up together since we were twelve years old, Jolly moved here from Sweden when he was ten. We’d all been inseparable for the last sixteen years in the schoolyard and now the streets of the Concrete Jungle. 

Not saying another word, the two of us busied ourselves cleaning up our mess and by the time we returned upstairs to my office. The staircase to the hidden basement was located behind a bookshelf and while Jolly closed it, I rummaged through the drawers of my desk to find a different shirt. 

Now dressed in a fresh black t-shirt, we stepped out of my office and the sounds of tattoo machines reached my ears and I smirked walking into the open lobby. Every one of my artists had someone in their chairs and my most sought-after artist, Nicholas, glanced up at me for a second before returning to tattooing his client. 

“How’d the meeting go?” He asked. 

“Didn’t work out. We have another one set for 6 tonight,” Jolly informed. 

I went up to the counter of my tattoo shop and glanced down at the book. It was a full day of appointments not to mention the group of girls that came in for a walk in. They were chittering like birds about how it was the blonde's bachelorette party and she specifically wanted me. 

In more ways than one. 

While she was cute, she wasn’t my type. 

Roger, the receptionist of Under The Right Lights Tattoo Parlor, and newest recruit of OMNS glanced at me over his shoulder. 

“Oh hey, Noah. Are you ready for the walk-in?” 

I shook my head. “No, I’m not tattooing today. But I do have a job for you.” 

His eyes lit up. “Yeah?” 

“Tonight when the shop closes, stick around. We need your help with something,” I patted his shoulder. 

“You got it, boss,” Roger nodded with a wide smile. 

Turning on my heels, I stuffed my hands in my pockets to glance at my studio. I opened Under The Right Lights about six years ago and even though we had a slow start, once word got out that Noah Sebastian and Nicholas Ruffilo tattooed here, business flowed in through the doors. 

I took over my grandfather's other business eight years ago but needed something to cover those dealings so that's when I thought of opening a tattoo shop with my best friends; my brothers. While Nicholas tattooed, Jolly ran the financial side of things, and Nick, or as we called him Folio, ran the motorcycle shop right next door. He was a mechanic, one of the best in town, and he often frequented here through the door to the left of Nicholas’ booth when he wasn’t busy fixing bikes.

Above my tattoo shop housed thirty apartments, all owned by me, and I lived in the penthouse on the tenth floor. Everyone in OMNS also lived in their own units so we could always be close to each other, in case something came up. With nine of the units being occupied by us, I rented out the other twenty-one for another form of income each month. 

I treated everyone as an equal with the tattoo studio and OMNS but they also respected me enough to know that I had the final say with both. Things didn’t get approved unless I gave the okay. 

Glancing down at my watch, I noticed that it was only four in the afternoon meaning we had a few hours until we met with the brothers. So I walked over to the back area of the shop where we used a private section to make a small gym where I knew Ash and Byran would be. 

Ash was not only my bodyguard but he was also my trainer and Bryan took photos of the tattoos and ran our social media account. 

“Tonight, six o'clock,” I said while crossing my arms. 

Bryan wiped the sweat from his forehead and nodded. “I’ll make sure the SUV is loaded up.” 

“Thank you,” I then turned towards Ash. “I’ve got a body downstairs. Do you mind?” 

He shook his head. “Not at all. I’ll bring Matt. He needs a break from managing everything. Get out and smell the trees in the woods. Or the salty brine of the ocean.”

With a snort, I bid them goodbye before retreating into my office and ignoring the preposterous waves of the blonde in the waiting area and instead thought of a certain redhead. 

SCARLETT

With a longing sigh, I brushed away the fire-red strands of hair from my face and adjusted my position on my bed to continue reading the book in front of me. It was the book Wolves: Behavior, Ecology, and Conservation by L. David Mech. This was the third time I’ve read but every time, I somehow learned something new. 

I've been out of college with my degree for four years now and although I haven’t done anything since then, I still tried to keep up with my studies. The possibility of opening up a wildlife rescue still weighed heavy on my mind but I knew my father would never agree to it. His money was to be used for other business opportunities.

The spiral notebook was filled with my chicken scratch handwriting and after tossing down the pen, I shook out the cramp from my hand to glance at the clock on my nightstand. It was nearing six in the evening and when it would be time for dinner with my father and uncle, they had to cancel due to a meeting that seemed to come out of nowhere. 

Next to the clock was a picture that made my heart drop to my stomach like it did every time. It was of me, my father, and my mother back on my eighteenth birthday and high school graduation; the last picture we took together. 

Because she was murdered that night. 

Eight years later the tears still burned in my eyes when I thought back to that night. We were driving home from dinner when someone crashed into our car and ran it off the road into a ditch. My father managed to pull me from the wreckage before the car burst into flames; my mother however wasn’t that lucky. We never found out who ran us off the road that night and whenever I asked about it, my father would wave me off and say one word only. 

Revenge. 

The relationship with my father was never the same since that night and once my Uncle Connor moved in, I retreated into myself. I loved them both dearly, but I blamed their life in the Irish Mafia for my mother's death. I did my best to remain respectful because I still lived in the McManus estate and knew I couldn’t make it on my own; not yet. My father had made it clear more than once that the only way I was to move out was either if I had my own money or married. 

Hence why I was doubling up on my studies, I needed to find some kind of job with my degree, a simple job at a store or fast food place would not be enough to survive on my own. And clearly, my relationship with my boyfriend was nowhere near marriage level yet; we’d only been together for less than a year and never spoke about getting married. 

I checked my phone and noticed Cory texted me a little while ago. 

Cory: I have to cancel tomorrow night, sorry. Work is sending me out of town and won’t be back till Sunday. 

I rolled my eyes knowing damn well he wasn’t the slightest bit sorry. 

Me: OK. See you then, I guess.

I locked my phone, the sound echoing in the quiet of my bedroom, and I busied myself once again with the book in front of me until there was a soft knock on my door. 

“Yes?” I called out. 

The door cracked open slightly and a head of white curls popped their head inside and I instantly smiled. 

“Hi, Dortha.” 

“Hello dear,” our housekeeper smiled, resting her frail hands in the pocket of her apron. “I know your father and uncle can’t make dinner but I still made your favorite. If you’re hungry.” 

My stomach growling gave way to my answer so with a chuckle, I let my studies be to follow Dortha out of my room and down to the dining room where I knew she already had a plate of food set up for me.

NOAH

The car ride across town to the McManus estate was filled with the ramblings of the other members of OMNS while I sat quietly behind the wheel, mind filled with more pressing matters. I gripped the wheel so hard that my knuckles were turning white, something Nicholas, who sat in the passenger seat, noticed right away. 

“Are you alright?” 

I nodded. “Just going over what I’m going to say.” 

Pulling the car to a slow stop at a red light, I drummed my fingers against the dashboard, trying another thing to calm my nerves since the deep breathing exercises my therapist recommended weren’t working. 

“Hey boss,” Roger spoke up from the back seat between Ash and Bryan. “Maybe someone else should drive. You seem nervous.” 

My eyes sliced into him through the rearview mirror. “No one drives my car but me.” 

With a shaking hand through his golden locks, he nodded and kept his head down the rest of the drive once I hit the gas again. 

“Do you know what you’re going to ask them? Folio wondered from the seat behind me while tapping the wooden drumsticks he always carried on his lap. 

“I’m thinking of coming out right and asking if they have any idea who killed Vincent,” I answered. 

Jolly shifted in the seat behind Nicholas and without having to gaze over at him, I knew he wasn’t too thrilled about my idea. 

“I’d say we just pop these fools. End this turf war once and for all,” Roger pipped up again. 

His excitement for being brought along tonight was evident but I was suddenly regretting my decision. 

“Chill, we need to be smart about this,” I said. 

“We can’t go in there with guns blazing,” Jolly added. 

I came to a stop in front of the large, gothic-like gate, and rolled down my window so I was able to click the button on the intercom. 

“Yes?” A thick Irish accent responded. 

I cleared my throat. “I have the brothers' dinner. Japanese with a side of Swiss.” 

Only static came from the speaker for a long moment until the loud creak of the gate caused Roger to jump in surprise and Byran to stifle a laugh behind his hand. The SUV glided up the long drive with ease as the setting sun spilled inside casting all of us in an orange and purple glow. We all piled out as soon as the car was parked in front of the McManus manor and I nodded towards Bryan, Ash, and Roger. 

“You three hang back in the foyer in case the brothers don’t want all of us in the meeting,” I said while clicking the safety on my gun before stuffing it in my back waistband. 

While Ash and Bryan agreed, both double-checking their weapons, Roger on the other hand made his distaste for my orders known with a low scowl. 

“All due respect, Noah,” he began. 

I adjusted the peaky hat on my head and raised a brow. “Is there a problem, Roger?” 

He shifted on his feet. “I’ve been the recruit for six months now, don’t you think I worked up being involved in one of these meetings?” 

I bit the inside of my cheek to my snarky remark to myself but Folio was quick to respond in my place. 

“Kid, calm down. It took Bryan six years to work up the ranks. Ash, it took him ten years.” 

Roger gaped at the two of them who seemed to have played along with Folio’s joke and agreed with a nod. 

“Can I atleast get a gun?” He outstretched his arms. “You guys are sending me into the warzone with no weapon!” 

“It’s only a warzone if you make it one,” Ash said. 

“No weapons for recruits,” I said. 

Not wanting to waste any more time out here, I led the group of us up the crumbling steps and came to a stop in front of the door. Motioning to Roger, I waited for him to ring the bell, and glanced around the vast grounds of the McManus estate while stuffing my hands deep into the pockets of my black peacoat. 

“Nervous?” 

Peering to my left, I nodded to Nicholas. “A bit.” 

He clapped my shoulder. “Let’s keep our questions short. Try to get the info we need then we can leave.”

“Yeah,” Folio agreed while shivering. “This place gives me the creeps. It looks like it's days away from caving in.” 

Glancing up at the old brick mansion, I had to agree with him. It looked as if neither of the McManus brothers bothered to keep up with the maintenance of the home and the overgrown grass on the other side of the driveway was proof of that. 

Suddenly the front door opened with an eerie creaking and all of our eyes met with an older lady with a head full of white curls. 

“Yes?” 

I stepped forward. “My name is Noah Sebastian. OMNS has a meeting with the brothers.” 

Her brown eyes shifted between all of us before she slowly stepped to the side, letting us all pile inside the grand manor. While the outside needed some work, the inside was marvelous with expensive pieces of art and not a speck of dust anywhere. 

“My name is Dorthea. I will let the brothers know you’re here,” she said with a thick Irish accent. 

Movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention and when I gazed up at the top of the stairs landing, all of my breath left my soul when those familiar hazel eyes met mine. All of the hairs not only on the back of my neck but on my arms stood straight with the buzz of electricity that shot through me when I noticed her eyes double in size. The brightness of her gaze struck a chord in my heart, playing a soft melody that only the two of us could hear. 

It had been a long while since I’d seen her last but fuck, she still looked absolutely breathtaking like she did the night of high school graduation.  

Her hair was deeper red than the last time we saw each other, now it cascaded down her back, and when she outstretched her arms on the wooden banister, her head tilted to the side in a way to assess all of these strangers in her home. 

Although four of us weren’t strangers to her. We all went to high school together even though she wouldn’t remember us. She was always with the group of kids that were rich, too good to be seen with the bottom dwellers like us. 

I removed my hat to hand it to Roger to hold onto it then shook out my hair from my eyes before slicking it back and I could have sworn I heard someone’s breath catch in their throat. 

“Noah Sebastian, standing here in my house. I must say, I almost didn’t recognize you without the long hair.” 

Well, shit. 

“Saoirse McManus,” I hummed in response to her sarcastic tone. 

A low scowl pulled on her lips before she pushed herself away from the banister and quickly scurried down the hall, disappearing around the corner. 

It was almost bittersweet seeing her again after all this time. While I wish it had been under better circumstances, I knew that I couldn’t allow myself to get wrapped up in Saoirse McManus; not again. I had built an empire since dropping out of high school and I couldn’t let anything tear it down, especially a silly little crush. 

It never was a silly crush. It was always more than that. You’re just bitter that she never felt the same.

Why would she ever have feelings for me? In her eyes and her financial stature, OMNS were nobodies; the gum on the bottom of their shoe. While they ran their empire up in the rich estates of the wealthy, we ran ours in the slums of the Concrete Jungle. There may have been a point in my life when I wanted to be in the same stature as her but now having earned my wealth, I realized that all I needed was my brothers. 

Bullshit. 

If that were the case, seeing her tonight wouldn’t have taken my breath away and cock twitched with such a dire need for her. 

“What was that about her not remembering you?” Jolly asked. 

I ran a hand over my mouth. “I didn’t think she would.” 

“Hey,” Roger’s head popped in between Jolly and I. “That’s the daughter, right? You know, rumors are going around the CJ that she’s the one that killed Vincent.” 

My eyes sliced into him and Jolly had to press a hand to my chest to keep me from wrapping my hands around his throat. 

“The CJ?” I spat out through a clenched jaw. 

Roger swallowed thickly. “Yeah. The Concrete Jungle. I thought you would understand the nickname since you were the one who created the Concrete Jungle. I spend a lot of time in the tunnels with groups of guys who tell stories of OMNS success. Why do you think I wanted to join so badly?”  

“Do me a favor, kid. Stop lingering in the underground parts of the jungle because you don’t know what dwells underneath there. You don’t want to find yourself in a situation you can’t sweet talk your way out of,” I said. 

“What?” He let out an airy chuckle. “Are you hiding a tank full of sirens? Or creating your own artificial intelligence?” 

With a dark look filling my eyes, I gave him a smirk before giving him my back when I heard the faint footsteps of Dorthea returning.

“Just the Japanese and Swiss,” she pointed to us. 

Jolly let out a groan. “I’m Swedish.” 

“Follow me,” she hooked a finger at us, ignoring Jolly. 

Giving the rest of my brothers a nod, we followed Dorthea down a long wide hallway, and I took in the sight of all the pictures lining the wall, noticing that they were family pictures of the McManus family. 

The first picture was of the man who started it all over one hundred years ago, Cillian McManus. It continued for a long while until Fergal’s familiar face caught my eyes, followed by his son, then Connor, then Murphy with his wife and Saiorse. 

Coming to a brief stop, I studied the picture for a long moment, before Jolly pulled me along. 

“The brothers are allowing you five minutes of their time,” Dorthea informed as we stopped in front of a set of double doors and her hands wrapped around the golden knobs. 

“How generous,” I grumbled under my breath just before the door opened. 

Inside was a huge library/office combo. Three out of four of the walls were just bookshelves full of books, the smell of old literature tickling my nose. Thick black carpet covered almost every inch of the floor and in the center of the room were two long burgundy couches that sat horizontally to an old fireplace that was blazing with hot flames. I felt the warmth on my face when Jolly and I stepped inside.  

On either couch sat the brothers, both having a glass dangling from their fingers, and their hushed conversation seized when they noticed our presence. 

“Ah,” the taller one with shorter hair muttered as he slowly stood to his feet and extended his free hand toward me. “You must be Noah. An acquaintance of mine said I’d be expecting you. I’m Conner.” 

After we shook hands, Connor motioned to the other man on the couch, who still had yet to stand up. “That is my twin brother Murphy.” 

Giving him a curt nod, I clasped my hands behind my back. “This is Joakim. We won’t take much of your time. But we do have one question to ask.” 

While Murphy muttered something in Irish under his breath, Connor urged me to ask. 

“About six months ago, a dear friend of ours Vincent Riquier was murdered, his body being left on the doorstep of my tattoo shop. I had some intel point me in the direction of someone in the Irish family.” 

Connor's brow raised as he took a small drink of his amber liquid. “Are you saying we had something to do with it?” 

Jolly shook his head. “Not at all. We were just wondering if you could let us know if our intel was correct since it came from one of your men.” 

This caused Murphy to snap his head towards us and brushed away the long hair from his face; blue eyes boring into us. “One of our men?” 

“Barry,” I said flatly. “Movie star looks. Although, I must say that was before.” 

The twins shared a look before Murphy rose to his feet with a roar. “You killed him?” 

I stood toe to toe with him, not showing him an ounce of fear because I knew guys like this could smell it. 

“Never said I did,” I answered with a shrug.

“Imigh leat,” Murphy waved a hand in my face before turning on his feet to face the fireplace. 

Connor let out a displeased noise at his brother before giving Jolly and me a tight smile, the lines in his face creasing. “You must ignore my brother, he just argued with his daughter before you arrived.” 

Saoirse’s face crept into my mind but I did my best to push away those feelings. I couldn’t give away my feelings for her; the ones that stayed buried for so long. 

“Again with this foolish dream of opening an animal rehab facility. Why she wants to work when she has all the money I can give her if she just stays here is beyond my thinking,” Murphy muttered after downing the rest of his drink, slamming the cup on the table next to the couch. 

“About Barry,” Connor ignored his brother while stuffing his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. “If you did kill him, one less thing for us to worry about. He was a pain in our arses anyway.” 

“So then, as a token, you’ll give us the direction we need to look into for our friend's death,” Jolly tried while scratching the facial hair on his chin. 

With Connor’s silence, his gaze locked in on us with his hand on the holster on his hip, and Murphy’s back still to us, I nodded towards Jolly, who understood and we bid the brothers goodbye. 

“Thank you for your time,” I said before ushering Jolly outside of the room before me. 

Once we were back in the solitude of the hallway, we rushed back to the foyer with a burning feeling at the back of my neck. Something wasn’t right, their silence told us way too much and I needed to get far away from here. 

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Jolly noted. 

I agreed with a low rumble in my chest, placing my hat back on. “I know. They were quick to dismiss us and I didn’t like how Connor reached for his gun.” 

Hearing our footsteps echo loudly on the marble floor, Bryan glanced up from his phone with furrowed brows. 

“That was quick.” 

“We’ll discuss it in the car,” I said while ushering everyone outside quickly. 

One by one we all piled out of the house and before I stepped through the threshold, I dared a glance back up to the stairs landing, hoping to catch sight of her but instead, I locked eyes with two large guards who had their guns in their grasp. 

“Boss, this doesn't make sense,” Roger turned swiftly on his heels and blocked me. 

“Roger, not now,” I said sternly. “Get to the car. Now.” 

“All these rumors, they had to start somewhere,” he continued to ramble on. 

I backhanded his chest and then threw a thumb over my shoulder to the men who were now descending the grand staircase. Finally, when Roger noticed them, he scrambled out the door, me swiftly following behind him. 

All of us gathered around the SUV to discuss what our next plan of action would be. There were other Irish families I could talk with but they all had connections to the McManus brothers so they wouldn’t give me anything. 

As I was chatting with Nicholas, Roger began pacing in front of the car, running a hand through his hair. 

“What’s his problem?” Nicholas mumbled to me. 

“He thinks the brothers are hiding something,” I informed him while shrugging. “I must admit, I feel the same. They were too closed off in there. And the way those guards were staring at me, I swore they were looking for a fight.” 

“In retaliation for Barry?” 

“Could be,” I ran a hand over my chin. “Or they don’t appreciate us showing up tonight. Either way, we need to get out of here.” 

Everyone began loading into the SUV, besides Roger, who was still pacing. 

“Roger, get in,” I demanded from behind the driver's door. 

"They're a bunch of liars. all of them. I bet you that broad upstairs knows something.” 

All I saw was read for a few moments before I realized that I had Roger pinned to the hood of the car by his throat, my tattooed fingers cutting off his oxygen. Strands of my hair fell into my eyes but I made no effort to let up my grip. 

“Watch how you speak about her,” I spit out. 

Roger’s eyes were white as he struggled to fight me, his nails digging into the skin of my wrist. 

“Shit,” Ash muttered while scrambling out of the car to wrap his arms around my chest, trying to pull me away. “Let him go, Noah. You’re going to kill him.” 

With an effortless grunt, I tossed Roger to the ground and did my best to fix my hair when Ash let me go as the front door of the manor opened; Saiorse walked out with the two guards following closely behind her. 

She paid us no mind as she trotted down the steps and began walking the opposite way of us. Glancing at my watch, I noticed that it was 8 p.m. 

“The only time she leaves is at 8 o'clock for her nightly walks.” Barry’s words from earlier rang in my ears. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I grumbled while adjusting my jacket. 

Roger quickly scrambled to his feet and when he finally noticed the two guards who had stopped walking to watch us with careful eyes, something switched in Roger’s mind. My jaw began to drop when I saw him reach for something underneath his shirt, my next words came out slow, almost inebriated. 

“Roger, no!” 

The sound of gunfire erupted, and all of us dropped to our knees around the car for some sort of protection. Bullets ricochet off of the car, one nearly missing my forehead as it blew the hat clear off my head. I strangled out a vacant cry while pressing my body closer to the car. My heart was beating widely in my chest and my hands shook but I didn’t have time to dwell on almost dying, I needed to stop this before it became worse than it already was. 

“Mother fucker!” 

Glancing over my shoulder, I cursed when I saw Folio go down to the ground clutching his thigh, his gun skidding halfway down the long driveway. I crawled over to him, keeping my head down when I noticed that a couple more McManus guards had emerged from inside and now we were outnumbered; seven to nine. 

Blood oozed out from the wound on Folio’s thigh and I grabbed a handful of his shirt, ripping a large piece from it. 

“You’re alright; just a flesh wound,” I reassured him while fixing the makeshift tourniquet. 

“Where the hell did Roger find a gun?” Folio asked through clenched teeth when I squeezed too hard on his wound to stop the bleeding. 

“I’m about to find out,” I patted his cheek before ripping my gun from behind my pants and clicked off the safety. 

Using the open door of the SUV as a shield, I peered around it to see that four guards were lying dead on the ground, two were hiding behind the pillars of the manor for their own protection, and one was coming towards us. 

Firing off two rounds, both hitting the mark of the guard's chest, I watched him crumble to the ground and then gave a sharp whistle towards Jolly who was firing his weapon in the car through the shot-out back windshield. 

“Two on the porch!” I yelled over the sounds of gunfire. 

Jolly nodded and I gave him protection against the other two guards who were firing their weapons from behind a bush, he snuck up to the two guards hiding on the porch, their lives ending before they even noticed him. 

Now the numbers were in our favor so slowly rising to my feet, I stepped out from my shield and called out to the last two McManus guards. 

“You’re not walking out of this alive!” 

“Imeacht go fánach ort féin is ar do chnapán miúlach!” A deep voice rumbled out from behind the bus. 

A flash of red caught my attention and I forgot for a moment that Saoirse was outside when the shootout began. I could hear my heart in my ears with worry if she’d been hit but when I saw her slowly rise to her feet due to one of the guards pushing her to farther safety, I breathed a little. 

Until a gun went off to my left and with sharp eyes, I watched as the bullet hit Saoirse in the arm, blood splattering against the fading white paint of the house. 

“Bitch! That’s for Vincent!” Roger bellowed his victory. 

I let out a vicious growl as I tackled him to the ground, laying fist after fist into his face. Poor kid never saw me coming and gave no fight against me. By the time I finished, my knuckles were broken and raw, covered in not only my blood but his as well. Roger’s face was a mangled mess as he rolled over to his side, spitting out chunks of spit mixed with blood. For a final measure, I laid a swift kick to his stomach making sure he wouldn’t get up for a while. Through the white noise in my brain, I did my best to calm my breathing when I gazed over my shoulder to the carnage that lay in our wake; all thanks to Roger’s trigger finger. 

Besides Folio, all of my men were unharmed and it seemed as if Folio would be fine. However, out of nine McManus guards, only two remain. One held something to Saoirse’s arm while the other tossed his gun to the ground, showing us he surrendered. 

“Is she alright?” I called out to them. 

“Fuck you, Noah!” She spat, eyes almost as red with fury as the color of her hair. 

Yeah, she was fine.

Through the eerie silence of the night air, I watched as the front door carefully opened then both the McManus brothers stepped into the carnage. 

“Saoirse!” Murphy’s voice boomed. 

“She’s over here!” The one guard who was tending to her wound called out while pulling them out from behind the bushes. 

I sucked in a breath when I saw all the blood staining the gray long sleeve of her sweater as the guard quickly whisked her inside, her father right on her tail. The look of pure hatred was on Connor’s face as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“Whose bullet hit my niece?” He asked. 

I pointed to the broken body of Roger, who was still struggling to rise to his feet. “I’ll take care of him, I promise you.” 

Conner gave a curt nod before hooking his finger in my direction. “You. By yourself. Now.” 

Licking my lips, I nodded and handed over my gun to Ash, who looked at me with bewilderment in his eyes. 

“Are you insane?” He demanded. “You can’t go in there by yourself.” 

“If they wanted me dead, I would be,” I said with more reassurance in my voice than I was feeling. 

Giving a soft smile to the rest of my men, letting them know I’d be fine, I stepped back inside the manor with Conner close behind. 

SCARLETT

“What the fuck!” I screamed while pushing myself away from the table, but hissing as pain shot through my arm.

The doctor we had on standby informed me that it was merely a flesh wound I suffered and closed it up with a few stitches and some pills for the pain. 

“Watch your tongue,” my father warned while not looking away from his plate of food. 

“You just told me that I’m supposed to marry Noah Sebastian! How the fuck can I watch my tongue?! This is absurd! You can’t make that decision for me.” 

He pushed away his plate with a sigh and then steepled his fingers together. “I can because I am your father. And for the price of peace, I couldn’t deny his offer.” 

I nearly fell back into my seat at the dining room table. “His offer? This was his idea?” 

My Uncle Conner nodded. “That man is quite the negotiator. He didn’t want any more bloodshed and for a truce, he asked for your hand in marriage; we agreed on one condition.” 

“Oh, I can't wait to hear what this condition was,” I placed my hand on my hip. “Does he want a baby in a year? Do I have to abide by his command? Am I to be locked away in a castle for the rest of my life?” 

“Far from that,” my father lit his cigar, puffing the smoke into the air. “We agreed that you can marry him as long as he kill the man that shot you.” 

My eyes widened. “The kid? Fucking hell, dad! He can’t be more than twenty years old!” 

“Then he shouldn’t have been involved in a game that was designed for men!” My father’s fist slammed on the aged oak of the table. 

I didn’t even flinch, being so used to his outbursts like this. Instead, I fought back harder against this offer. 

“What about Cory?” I questioned. 

“Who?” My father’s thick brows furrowed as the age lines in his forehead creased. 

“The boyfriend,” my uncle informed him while swirling the ice cubes around in his cup. 

My father did a double take. “How the fuck do you know?” 

“Fuck you, I know shit,” he shrugged. 

“Very well,” my father sighed. “It’s not like this relationship would have worked out anyway. You will end it and move in with Noah by Friday.” 

“FRIDAY?!” I screeched. “That’s in two days!” 

“The wedding will be at the end of the month,” my uncle informed me. 

Too much information had been thrown at me all at once and I pinched the bridge of my nose to keep myself from crying. I typically wasn’t a crier but from the moment I laid my eyes on Noah Sebastian in the foyer of my home, all of my old feelings came rushing in like a tidal wave and I still didn’t have time to process that. 

“If I say no to this deal?” I shot back. 

Neither my uncle nor father said anything, simply motioned to the guns that lay next to their plates. Now, I knew they didn’t mean they would kill me. Instead, they would kill Noah and every last mother fucker who had anything to do with tonight.

“This is unbelievable!” I yelled while throwing my hands up and storming my way up the stairs to my bedroom. 

The sound of my door slamming shook the old bones of the manor and I yanked the ends of my hair with a scream. I despised not only this life but also the fact that I couldn’t do anything about this arrangement. Not when the lives of innocents were on the line. 

Innocents? They shot you! 

Shaking the thought from my mind, I fell back onto my bed with a groan. It was easy to tell that the kid was the one that started the unnecessary gunfight. Noah was only doing what he could to protect his people. 

Those gorgeous almond eyes haunted me for years, plaguing my entire existence since I first saw them freshman year of high school. I never could do anything about it, however, knowing that we ran in different circles and it was forbidden. His family ran the slums while mine ran the prestige wealth. 

The last I saw of Noah or any of those guys was the night of high school graduation. While Noah dropped out three months before, the rest of his friends walked across the stage and he was there for support. Our eyes locked across the vast space of the room. His hair was long but pulled back into a high bun, showcasing the sharpness of his cheekbones as he gave me a gentle smile. Of course, I had to ignore the pull of my heart strings, no matter how strong they were. 

If someone had told a teenage me that now, eight years later, I’d be marrying that man who captured my heart so long ago, I’d laugh in their face. 

Running a hand over my face, I sat up in bed and quickly dialed Cory’s number so I could deliver the news. On the eighth ring, he answered almost breathlessly. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi,” I played with the ends of my hair. “Do you have a minute to talk?” 

There was some rustling on his end before his breath came through. “I suppose.” 

Ignoring the tone, I took a deep inhale to prepare myself for breaking the news to him. “There’s no easy way to say this. But my father just informed me that he arranged a marriage for me. I have to move in with the guy on Friday. I tried to fight it, tried to fight for us, but I didn’t have a choice. It’s something I have to do.” 

There was a very long beat of silence on Cory’s end before his voice broke through. “Ok. Thanks for letting me know.” 

My heart dropped to the pits of my stomach. “W-what? That’s it?” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Scarlett? You said it yourself, you don’t have a choice in this. Why fight for something that has no end in sight?” 

I bit down on the inside of my cheek hard to not snap at him but eventually failed. 

“You know, you’re right. What’s the fucking point,” I seethed. 

Before I could hang up on him, I heard the click and stared down in disbelief at my now black screen. 

“What a piece of shit!” I bellowed while tossing my phone onto my bed. 

My knee bounced in anger, that conversation adding more fuel to the fire, and as much as I wanted to scream out my frustrations I knew that it would be futile. Instead, I dragged my feet into the large walk-in closet and began packing up things that I knew I would need in my new life. 

NOAH

Wiping away the blood from my rings, I stepped into the lobby of the quiet tattoo shop and noticed Nicholas closing up his section. 

“How’d it go tonight?” I wondered after tossing the rag into the bag he had opened. 

The one we planned on burning anyway so any evidence would be gone in the flames. 

“Slow night but those aren’t bad every once in a while,” he answered before motioning to the door I previously walked through. “All finished?” 

“Yeah, Jolly and Folio are cleaning it up. This one was messier than I would have liked. I’ll admit, the kid put up a hell of a fight,” I said while leaning against the wall with crossed arms. 

The tattooed muscles in my forearms flexed. 

“Did he say where he found the gun?” 

“Bought it off of someone on the street before we left that night. Apparently, he had a feeling I wouldn’t allow him to have one and he felt like he needed protection,” I informed Nicholas. 

Who, in turn, snorted while packing up his tattoo gun. “A lot of good it did.” 

My lips parted to speak but with the sound of the bell dinging above the door, revealing that someone had stepped inside. 

“Sorry, we’re closed,” the words died in my throat when I saw who walked inside. 

Her hair was pulled back into a tight braid, her green eyes standing out amongst everything else about her. She carried two suitcases behind her and one large duffel bag on her shoulder. 

“Hi,” I said while standing straight up. 

All of the breath inside of me left me with a whoosh of air as the excitement of our arrangement finally filled me. When I first brought up the idea to the McManus brothers, I fully expected them to deny it. Much to my surprise, they agreed almost immediately with the exception that I take care of Roger, as promised. 

Not even an hour after sending the picture to Murphy, his daughter was standing in front of me; bags in tow.

“Hi?” Saoirse scowled. “Do you know what the fuck I had to go through to get here? The number of times I had to circle the building to find somewhere to park? Two blocks away. Not to mention, how many homeless people stopped me along the way to ask for either money or drugs? And all you can say is hi?” 

Biting my lip at my smile, I walked over to the receptionist's desk to rest my elbows on it. 

“Are you finished?” I teased with a playful gleam in my eyes. 

She scoffed, appalled. “Am I finished? No, Noah. Far fucking from it. How dare you bid for my life without my consent? This isn’t the 1900’s where this was a common thing! I have a say in who I should marry!” 

“Then why are you here?” 

Saoirse pursed her lips and when I realized she had nothing to say back, I pushed off the counter to close the distance between us, my height towering over her. 

“Let’s get one thing straight. I didn’t pay for you. I don’t plan on holding you prisoner here. You have a say with anything and everything however to keep the peace from stumbling into my empire, if I had to arrange for your life, you bet your fucking ass I would do.” 

Her lips mimicked a fish and when her shoulders slumped in defeat, I held out my hand to her. “Keys.” 

“Excuse me?” She raised a brow. 

“Give me your keys. OMNS Legacy Villas has underground parking. There’s already a reserved spot for you,” I informed her. 

Shoving the keys in my hand, she sliced her eyes into me. “If it says Saoirse, change it.” 

I quickly tossed the keys to Nicholas, who understood and slipped out of the shop to retrieve her car. 

“Change it?” I repeated her words. 

“The only people who call me that are my father and uncle. Everyone else calls me Scarlett,” she tossed her bags on the ground at my feet before crossing her arms over her black sweater. 

This sass that fell from her blood-stained lips made me want to toss her onto the counter, rip off that sweater, and attack every inch of her skin with my teeth but I refrained. Instead, I brushed a hand through my hair and smiled. 

“Scarlett it is.” 

Scarlett glanced out the large window in front of the shop, watching as people walked past, every single one of them dealing with something in their own lives. The trash that littered the street was figuratively and literally. I had to admit that when I first opened up my empire here, the slums were extremely bad but with my help and funding, the streets had been cleaned up immensely; with a few stranglers still lurking around. 

Especially in the underground. 

“I don’t understand how you live here. The homeless, the drug deals, and the illegal activities I saw walking in here. It’s disgusting,” she shivered. 

I stood next to her now, stuffing my hands in the back pockets of my pants. “Welcome to the Concrete Jungle, Scarlett.” 

She turned her head up to me as I bent low towards her, my warm breath fanning those beautiful lips. “Where I’m the fucking king.” 

[deludedfantasy]

"Shoot" Scene Mirrors and the Flaws in Vash's Ideology 

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this for two weeks now so let’s see if I can put this into words. The main point being: when Vash kills Legato, it’s a mirror of the “shoot” scene with Wolfwood. 

Visually, they’re stunningly similar, the only difference is Vash willingly points his gun at Legato while Wolfwood forces it to his forehead.

But you know what really gets me? It’s the conversations surrounding these moments.

The scenes are mirrors in that Wolfwood predicted this would happen, and he was right. Wolfwood challenged him because he wanted to know that Vash would be able to make the hard choice and get his hands dirty, that he wouldn’t hesitate. Because in a situation like this, hesitation can get you or someone else killed. But what does Vash do just as he finally decides to kill Legato? He hesitates, putting Livio in danger. Legato even says that if Vash hadn’t paused, hadn’t taunted him, he wouldn’t have done that. 

What gets Vash to finally pull the trigger? It’s not fear for his own life or even Livio’s. It’s the memory of Wolfwood’s sacrifice. Wolfwood said he was willing to lay down his life if he could get Vash to pull the trigger. “I’d trade my life for it,” he says. In a way, he did. It took Wolfwood dying for Vash to finally be able to kill. 

Another thing I’d argue is that hesitating can be cruel. Legato doesn’t read Vash’s pause as a moment of moral conflict but as a taunt, because that’s what he would do. If he paused like that, it would be to toy with his opponent and make them suffer. While that certainly isn’t what Vash intends, that’s how it comes off, especially in Legato’s twisted worldview. It reminds me of something Sam Vimes says in Men at Arms. “Something Vimes had learned as a young guard drifted up from memory. If you have to look along the shaft of an arrow from the wrong end, if a man has you entirely at his mercy, then hope like hell that man is an evil man. Because the evil like power, power over people, and they want to see you in fear. They want you to know you're going to die. So they'll talk. They'll gloat.

They'll watch you squirm. They'll put off the moment of murder like another man will put off a good cigar.

So hope like hell your captor is an evil man. A good man will kill you with hardly a word.” 

Now, to be clear, I’m not saying that Vash is evil for hesitating. He’s fighting against ideals he’s been carrying for 150 years. But that’s not how it reads to the person on the business end of his revolver. Vash basically lives on that moment of hesitation, the second chance, and he paints Wolfwood’s instant reaction as the work of the devil. And as we see that isn’t necessarily true. Not only can hesitating get you killed, it’s just cruel. It can easily be read as toying with someone. And isn’t the first rule of gun safety to not point your weapon if you aren’t willing to shoot?  

So not only is the “shoot” scene a fundamental part of Vash and Wolfwood’s relationship, it’s an incredible bit of foreshadowing that also directly challenges Vash’s pacifism and ideals. 

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | dawn // nineteen

| @sani-sims

next / previous / beginning

EDELWYN: Already? What a pity. KYRIE: Suppose I could introduce to some of the others at a later date? EDELWYN: Oh, really? Well, that would be grand! Why don’t you come over to my manor tomorrow night. I’ll prepare something! LUCIEN: Is there going to be another party? EDELWYN: Yes, yes, why don’t you come as well, Your Highness. This will be quite the spectacle. Of course, if it’s all alright, Your Grace? KYRIE: Certainly. Tomorrow evening, then? EDELWYN: Tomorrow EVE: Well, that was easy enough. He seems to do most the talking on his own. Not the most interesting specimen, but perhaps the perfect candidate for your plans. KYRIE: Mm. Let’s hope. EVE: Have you someone in mind already to go? KYRIE: I do. I’ll spare you anymore time with the Duke. As you said, he’s not the most interesting. EVE: That is a great mercy. KYRIE: Speaking of mercies… our night is coming to a close. Things are winding down already, I’m sure we could get away without too many noticing. EVE: And leave Åse? KYRIE: She seems perfectly happy to babysit. Come on, Eve, let me enjoy a night without my shadow. EVE: Oh, very well. EVE: You never told me why he’s really here. KYRIE: I thought it’d be obvious. If it was my choice at all, he wouldn’t be. But the High Priestess cares little about what I want. And maybe she’s right to override my wishes. After all, things aren’t safe. EVE: And he is going to ensure your safety? You’re better off with any of us. KYRIE: A point I’d previously made myself. But, well, I exhausted my goodwill with her. That’s my fault. EVE: That woman wouldn’t know the right thing to do if it smacked her in the face. And you shouldn’t take on any guilt because of it. I won’t believe she’s trying to protect you out of love. KYRIE: No, I know that… EVE: sighs I’m sorry, Kyrie. KYRIE: Don’t be. EVE: You said your sister is alive. Then, you still have family. KYRIE: Yes, maybe… EVE: Maybe? KYRIE: I don’t know. I don’t want to think about that, now. EVE: Alright, then, we won’t. EVE: It’s beautiful out here. KYRIE: Mm. The city has its bright spots. I’ve gotten to see a good few of them this passed month. EVE: You didn’t get out much before? KYRIE: No. Though, maybe that’s my fault, too. Maybe I’ve been too complacent with my cage. I guess nearly dying changes your perspective. Even if I did choose that path. No, especially because of it. EVE: You want something different? KYRIE: I’m starting to. EVE: I’m glad. You shouldn’t lay down and let them dictate your life for you. KYRIE: I never wanted that. I never wanted to be so… indifferent to everything. I suppose I just thought there wasn’t anything I could do. I didn’t see a way out. Maybe I still don’t. But I’ve been asking myself if I might ever find my way to something better, then, what would “something better” really look like? EVE: And have you come up with any answers, yet? KYRIE: A few. Perhaps, most importantly, I realized I don’t want to spend my life alone. EVE: No? KYRIE: I don’t know. Being around the ten of you… those of you who have, for whatever strange reason, chosen to engage with me willingly. It’s different. And it’s nice. I wish I’d had more of it, before. But I know I don’t want to lose it going forward. I suppose, if we all survive this, many of you will move on, return home… Admittedly, it does make me… sad. Maybe more frightening is the idea I might have to learn to do this all over again, but on my own. Without the Moon EVE: I can’t speak for the others, but it’s not strange at all that someone would enjoy your company. I imagine it will be very difficult to go back home after everything. But then… what’s the rush? If you wanted to spend more time with someone, whoever it might be, then maybe you need only ask? KYRIE: Would you stay, Eve? EVE: If you’d like me to. KYRIE: Hm. Then suppose I shouldn’t ask just yet. There’s still chips left to fall. Maybe in the end, you’ll find I’m not the person you thought I was after all. EVE: Kyrie? KYRIE: Not tonight. Maybe some other day I’ll have the courage to tarnish that good image you have of me.

[websterss]

Imagine

Just laying down beside Ethan and talking about the most random stuff like what you planned on doing in the future

What it was like growing up, your guys favorite movies, drinks, food, candy all of that

Then like out of nowhere he says something like "one day I will marry you" which just makes you shocked because it was

Really cute but the most random thing that he could say so you didn't really know who to respond to that and he goes on about wanting to have family with you , for some reason

It makes you cry but it wasn't because it was sad but because it so cute 🤭

“Wait-“ Ethan’s face scrunches with a laugh. “You cut your hair because you wanted to look like a cowboy?” Ethan can’t stop his laughter. (This is actually true people I did do this as a kid, just thought it’d be funny to include lmfao)

“I honestly don’t remember what the hell was going through my mind. My mom had a heart attack when she saw what I’d done to my long hair. I went my early daycare days with a bowl cut!” Your eyes close as you laugh. “My hair was up to my ears!”

“Your poor mom. I bet she was furious.”

“Oh she was mad! But then again I did it again in third grade. Then again last semester because I thought that I could cut my own bangs. She was not impressed all three times!”

“Wait is that why you always wore bobby pins in your hair. I just thought you liked pinning your hair back.”

“You’d think I’d put pins in my hair willingly? It was not a choice!” You chuckled

“You’re hair looks nice now.” Ethan raked his eyes over your face.

“That’s cause I stopped messing with it.” Silence settles over you two. Ethan fiddles with a lose string on his comforter. Then you reverse the question he had asked you, onto him.

“What was your childhood like?”

Ethan hesitates for a second then lays back. Eyes up to the ceiling, hands sprawled over his stomach.

“It wasn’t anything like yours. I can tell you that…” He lets out a faint nervous laugh. “Things were good…at least when my mom was still around.”

“Yeah…you told me she passed away from ca-“

“Cancer yeah. It was pretty hard on my dad. My siblings too but uh yeah. I remember when she was still around. We used to bake almost every day. I can whip up a mean chocolate chip cookie by the way.” He quirks a cheeky grin your way. “And uh…things were good. Honestly, my moms probably the reason why I’m into scary movies. Dad wouldn’t let me watch them, but mom would. We’d watch as many as we could before he’d get back from work. It was our thing…” He scoffs a little laugh. Eyes staring off. You smile fondly at him. Heart swelling at this.

“I bet you miss her.”

“A lot…” He moves his chin up and down. You go to lay down beside him. Side by side on his bed.

“You know…if you want we can head back to my place. I’m pretty sure I’d have dough and chocolate chips…” You sit up. Ethan turns his head to look up at you.

“Right now?” He looks to the clock at his nightstand.

“Yeah, why not. You can sleep over too. Tell me more about your wonderful mysterious life some more.” You giggled, taking one of his hands and fiddle with his fingers. “Plus I’d get your mean whipped up chocolate chip cookies. Milk and kisses included.”

“How do you I’m not lactose intolerant?”

“You ate my left over chocolate chip ice cream last week. I’d think I’d know if you were.” You push back his curls. He sighs as your fingers rake through his hair. Your smile remains. You were game for leaving to your place and baking with him just after he told you he and his mom used to do so. God he loved you. He mirrors your smile and sits up. You lean back slightly to not bump heads with him.

“One day I’m gonna marry you.” Ethan’s smile grows watching your eyes grow and pupils dilate. Your mouth opens up slightly.

“What?”

“One day I’m gonna marry you.” Ethan repeats himself, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Oh yeah…” Your heart swells with a giddy fluttering feeling.

“Yeah…” His eyes softens. Eyes taking over your soft features.

“So who’d be the one to ask then. You or me?” You play into it, but you could see he was being serious.

“It wouldn’t matter to me, but if you didn’t then I would.”

“So if i spontaneously asked you now. You’d say yes?”

“Yeah!” He nods.

“Will you marry me then?”

“Fuck yes…” He sighs, cupping your face and pulling you on top of him. You squeal as he flips you both over. Him hovering over you now. “A million times yes without a doubt.”

“Promise...” You breathe in and out. Hands raking in his hair.

“My minds made up. You’re all I want.” He leans down to collide his lips against yours.

[louiseintrees]

Until My Hands Can’t Write and My Lungs Collapse

Sometimes I hate dating a famous guy.

And it’s not because he’s gone. Not because he’s egotistical (he far from that), or because he’s dabbled in drugs, or is chased by young girls all the time, but it’s when you get insecure, and remember all the stunningly beautiful woman he dated and realize your nothing like them and will never be. You’re not tall, skinny, and gorgeous. Sure you might be nice like they are, but you’re not them, not by a long shot.

So as tears falling from my eyes onto the pillowcase as I stared at younger versions of Alex standing next to his past lovers I couldn’t help but feel worthless. Why would he chose me over very other woman that would have willingly done what I’ve done for him? I’m just some French history teacher who’s short and stout, that loves to play chess and has read an astronomical amount of books. I’m not special. I’m not cool. I’m not pretty. I’m average. I’m basic, like and NPC that’s just there to get the story rolling. If he didn’t like me he’d tell me right? Or would he just take pity on me and try to be nice? What if I’m hurting him? What if he could be so much happier if I was gone? Would he thrive? Would his life be better?

I felt awful. We were best friends before any of this happened and I couldn’t lose him, but I couldn’t hurt him either. I’d much rather take myself out of the equation that watch him become bored and feel that ‘loving’ me was more of job than something he just wanted to do.

I heard the door creek. And immediately I closed my phone and held the covers close to my face and pretended to sleep to explain my red eyes and maybe the wetness for sweat.

“Darling?” He questioned his voice flowing through the house like a desperate search.

I heard his light footsteps slowly approaching the door and when he opened he started to speak.

“Love?” He whispered into the room.

I think in this moment he realized I was ‘sleeping’ and he softly shut the door behind himself and I felt the weight in the bed shift as the part next to me sunk. He pulled my phone away from me and when I heard the sound of an object hitting wood, I could assume he had set it on the nightstand. I felt his arms gently pull me closer to him and I stirred a bit and to really sell it, in my cracking voice I asked,

“Alex?”

He kissed my forehead and spoken himself, “Sorry for waking you, darling.” He squeezed me tightly again peppering my head with kisses before laying his head on mine.

Suddenly I couldn’t fight back the tears anymore. They wouldn’t stop and my breath became on easy and before I knew it I was choking on my sobs.

“Hey, hey, is everything alright? Bad dream? Tired? Are you in pain?” His urgency and concern laced his voice and made it very prominent he was a little scared.

I pulled back and looked into his eyes wanting nothing more than to kiss him and not feel this way but my mind wouldn’t allow it. It would not shut up for even a second, to the point that it’s questioning whether or not his love for me was fraudulent.

“Why do you love me? I mean, you could have almost anyone in the world. You’ve dated gorgeous models who are so kind and sweet and you could have that, why would you want me? I’m not special or cool, or gorgeous, and you can’t flaunt me everywhere because of my job so why out of any girl in the world would you choose me?” I questioned as his thumbs wiped away my tears that continued to fall down my cheeks.

“Because there’s no girl more beautiful, kind, caring, intelligent, and perfect than you. And I know that’s so cliché and stupid but I truly mean it. From the darkest depth of my heart that seems as though they have no love in them I mean it. You aren’t a model, but I don’t care about that. I wouldn’t care if I had to cross seas just to see you, or if you were an astronaut, or a model, I would still love you the same. Maybe I’d think you were a bit cooler for being all the way up in space but i wouldn’t be able to kiss you and hug you all the time which would be a downer. But, my love if I had to see every girl in the planet and chose which one to love until I’d die, by a long shot I’d chose you. If younger me knew you he wouldn’t have met any models. He would’ve had heart eyes and he’d worship the ground you’d walk on like I do now and he’d never even think about looking at a model. You’re perfect for me. And every girl that came before you would agree with me on everything I’ve said about you. I will love you when I’m dead and I will love you long after. And I would never lie about something like that. If I wasn’t in love with you I’d tell you. But I’m on the other end of that spectrum. I like having a short history teacher from France that will gush about book for hours with me and will nerd over Nabokov as much as I do. I wouldn’t change it for the world. You know how much I write about you. Small lyrics, poems, letters, songs, a whole album! Y/n I am madly in love with you, I don’t know enough words to describe it perfectly so I will do my half arsed version for you until my hands can’t write and my lungs collapse. You are everything I want and more. Three years isn’t enough, an entire lifetime even would never be enough. And even if you one day would find yourself falling out of love with me I could never stop loving you. If I were to die now I’ve lived a life knowing I’ve met the best person on earth and I’d pass with a smile on my face they could never wipe off. I’d be at peace. And if you were there too I’d be over the moon. I love you so fucking much it’s sickening to others, and if I didn’t know you personally they’d think I was some creepy stalker. You will always be my love, Y/n. And that will never, and I mean never change.”

I smiled and tears still fell. I giggled a bit and his face turned into a smile so glad I understood.

“Can I please kiss you?” He begged making sure I was okay and didn’t need a moment before he stole my breath away.

“Always.” I nodded.

He swooped his head down and locked his lips with mine gently. His lips expressed so much passion and love they screamed at me to understand his love for me.

When he pulled away I looked into his eyes again the worry in his eyes faded and now filled with happiness and the love he will always have.

“I love you, that sounds lame now.” I giggled.

“It’ll never be lame to me, darling. I love you too.”

[tryan-a-bex]

Sometimes when you fall, you fly

Read it on ao3. For @kittynannygaming and @lucienne-thee-librarian

Lucienne laid down her pen. There was something not right in the library, but darned if she could put her finger on it. She rose from her desk and commenced one of her usual patrols. As she walked her normal pattern, she glanced down each aisle. So far, all was as it should be.

“Hhiiiiiic!” The sudden loud hiccup as she rounded the final corner meant there was no way she could miss Gault, huddled at the end of the row, her face in her hands.

“Gault! Whatever is the matter?!” Lucienne exclaimed as she rushed worriedly toward the former Nightmare.

“Oh, Lucienne! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to bother you!” Gault blurted on another sob.

“It’s no bother at all!” Lucienne reassured her. “You do know I’m here to help, right? It’s part of my job, as librarian.” She gently drew the distraught dream up from where she huddled, handing her a handkerchief from her pocket.

Gault wiped her tear stained face. “I’m just so embarrassed about all this! I’m one of my lord’s most experienced creations! I’m a Major Arcana, for goodness’ sake! Yet here I am, crying in the library because I have a problem and I can’t figure out how to solve it!”

“No! Don’t be embarrassed!” Lucienne looked at her tenderly over her reading glasses. “You are strong and beautiful and important, but don’t forget, you’ve only been a dream for a very short time. It’s okay to ask for some help during the adjustment period! In fact, it is always okay to ask for help, and I will always be here for you to turn to.”

Gault blushed a little at the compliment and followed willingly as Lucienne led her back to her desk. Lucienne grabbed a fresh cup from the tea service near the window, filled it, and handed it to Gault as she settled into Lucienne’s visitor’s chair.

“Okay.” Lucienne sipped from her own tea cup, left by her papers on the desk. It was a good thing she enjoyed cold tea. “Tell me everything.”

Gault sniffed once more and took a sip of honeyed tea. 

“Oh, Lucienne! You’ve made it so sweet!”

“Is it too sweet? You’re a dream now, dear, you’re allowed some sweetness in your life!”

“I guess…I guess I like it like this, then.” Gault sipped again, then put her cup down to begin her story.

“Dreams, as you know, … dreams and nightmares are intended to help people change their narrative. We show them their fears and wants so they can face them and become truer to themselves.” She paused for a sip of tea as Lucienne nodded along. “I had been a nightmare for so long. I was used to changing my shape and scaring people from the status quo into something new. Now I find myself having to entice them instead. It’s… very different! I’ve had some good successes, and some mediocre ones, but this. This one has just been a failure!” She rubbed her face with her hands as Lucienne waited patiently for her to continue. ”I thought perhaps I could find help in the library, a clue as to how to go about it, in the record of another similar dreamer. But there are just so many books! And I’m not familiar with the stories of good dreams at all!”

“Well, you have found help in the library,” Lucienne told her warmly, laying her hand over Gault’s on the desk. “Can you tell me a bit more about the dreamer, so I know where to start looking?”

Gault sighed and her shoulders relaxed a bit. She turned her hand and took hold of Lucienne’s properly, as if for courage. 

“This dreamer, you see, is non-binary. They’ve been using a gender neutral online name forever, but they are hesitant to see the internal truth that expresses about them. They know ‘the kids’ are picking all kinds of genders these days, and they’re happy for them! But they haven’t realized yet that they are also allowed to ‘choose’ their gender—they feel stuck with what they were ‘born with.’” Gault sighed again and took another sip of tea. “I thought I’d shape-change into the form they desire to be, and they would see it and realize it was accessible to them as well! But instead, they interpreted their desire for that form as attraction, and Lucienne, they kissed me!”

“How did you feel about that, Gault?” Lucienne asked compassionately.

“It took me by surprise! I wasn’t expecting it! I never intended… I’m not that kind of dream!” Gault finished helplessly.

“It’s okay.” Lucienne rubbed the back of Gault’s hand with her thumb, and Gault’s grip on her tightened. “I know just where to look. First, how to tone dreams so dreamers don’t get the wrong idea. Then, how to help dreamers tell the difference between wanting someone, and wanting to be someone—it’s a far more common problem than you’d expect! Finally, we can look in the gender change section and see if there are any other good tips for shape-changers working on that type of transformation.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much! You are such a good friend!” Gault exclaimed, then looked down at the desk, as if she was worried she’d been too bold by claiming Lucienne’s friendship.

“Of course we are friends, my dear!” Lucienne responded, standing and leading Gault by the hand, up and toward the stacks. “Though this is the same help I would give anyone in your position, including the honey tea.” She looked down at their still joined hands and commented offhandedly, “though not the hand-holding. That’s usually rather more metaphorical.”

Gault beamed at her through the tear stains on her cheeks and boldly asked, “Maybe you’d like to go for a picnic with me, after we are finished here?”

“I would love that!”

“Boss! Hey boss! You won’t believe what I just saw!”

“Matthew.” Dream looked up from his sculpting, wondering what would have prompted his raven to interrupt him at his work. “What have you seen?”

“It was Gault, with Lucienne! They were flying! Over Fiddler’s Green! I mean, Gault was flying and she had her arms all wrapped around Lucienne, it was weird! And they both looked ecstatic! What is going on?”

“Ah,” said their Master. “I expect Lucienne finally told Gault how much she misses flying.”

“But what if they…. They can’t…. Can they?” Matthew didn’t quite know what he was asking, but he was sure the whole Dreaming would be turned inside out if Lucienne started dating someone. She was the steady, stable, responsible one! They couldn’t be having her having romantic dramatics!

Dream smiled slightly at his flustered raven. “Don’t worry, Matthew. I will take care of it.”

“Lucienne!” Lucienne looked up, only slightly startled by the sudden intrusion of her Master’s voice into her work.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Matthew told me he saw you and Gault flying over Fiddler’s Green this afternoon.”

Lucienne blushed but continued to look him in the eye. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Good. I approve. I made you these.” He handed her a little black scrap which, when she took it in her hands, turned out to be a pair of raven wings about the size of her palms.

“You can…” he gestured at her back. Wonderingly, she reached the wings over her shoulder, and gasped as they attached to her shoulder blades and grew to full size. 

“Oh, my Lord! These are wonderful!” she exclaimed.

“Yes. Well. I thought you might like to fly with Gault more often. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it sooner.”

“Oh, not at all! So, you don’t mind, if Gault and  I…?”

“I trust it will not interfere with your duties.”

“Of course not!” (Lucienne was, after all, an adult, who could carry on a relationship without it interfering with her duties and the weather, unlike some anthropomorphized concepts standing in front of her.)

“Good.”

After that, the residents of the Dreaming became accustomed to the sight of Lucienne with her head in Gault’s lap, under the tree in Fiddler’s Green.

Note: The title quote is by Neil Gaiman, from The Sandman vol 6, Fables and Reflections. 

In my head this is a Queer Platonic Relationship with cuddling and hand-holding. They are zucchinis because I love them.

Next

[marvelmaniac715]

Andy finally goes to therapy. His therapist suggests that he writes a letter to Chucky expressing his feelings about everything that’s happened to him, but the letter will never actually make it to Chucky, right?... This is that letter.

————————————————————-

Dear Chucky,

That doesn’t feel like the right way to start it. I’m not sure how else to start letters though, maybe I’d have more knowledge on the subject if I was able to attend school full time as a kid. I was bounced around so many foster homes and guardians that I never got a full education, I guess I owe that to you.

Sometimes I lie awake at night and wonder if you know just how much you affected me growing up. You severely impacted my life, yet every time we meet you don’t acknowledge this. Do you pretend that you didn’t play a part in traumatising me because it makes you feel better? Or do you know and just not care? The tiny part of me that wants to believe that there’s good in everyone would choose the former, but in my heart I know it must be the latter.

I googled you, did you know that? I learnt about your childhood, it was strangely healing to learn about the events that shaped you in your formative years. I saw a picture of you when you were about six or seven (the age I was when we first met) and I gotta admit, you were pretty cute. But the headline that accompanies the image I found reminded me that you’re psychotic. I know you killed your mom and dad, you’re beaming with pride in that photo, despite it being taken hours after their deaths. In horror movies, the killers usually had abusive childhoods that warped their perception of reality, but not you, huh? You were just born like that.

You grew up in a Home as well, so you can relate. That fact unsettles me, because you know how it feels to suffer, to grow up without parents. Yet you willingly chose that life for yourself, and you passed it on to me because why the hell not I guess. You made something inside my brain snap. I can’t pursue romantic relationships, I can’t maintain friendships or hold a job because I have trust issues. You fucked me up, Charles, and you have to face that.

I kid myself that I’m an adult, but sometimes when I see you I’m that scared little boy again, hiding behind his mother and desperately trying to prove that he isn’t insane, that his life is really in danger. My mom was traumatised too, she tries to hide it for my sake, but she can’t even look at a doll without breaking down into tears. If you read this part, you’d probably laugh that spine-chilling cackle of yours that still makes me jump every time it comes out of your mouth.

I was six years old, I just wanted a Good Guy doll for my birthday. My mom was just trying to make me happy, we didn’t have much but we had each other, life wasn’t bad. If I could go back in time I’d stab that first doll with a kitchen knife, that would’ve ended everything once and for all. If I really had the guts, I would’ve walked into that toy store where you lay dying and ripped that cursed doll out of your human form’s hands before you could even utter the incantation. But the past can’t be altered, it can only be reflected upon with a vague disappointment.

Was there ever a point where you saw me as a son? Maybe the first time around? Even when you tried to kill me, it was almost as if there was a certain fondness for me. You were the only constant male figure in my life, you taught me some valuable life lessons as well. Not to trust authority figures, because they can betray you. Not to give in to moments of weakness, you have to think on your feet in order to live. But most importantly, you taught me how to survive. With these things in mind, the case could certainly be argued that you were a father figure to me. In my angsty teen years, I certainly thought of you like that sometimes.

I have so much left to say, but I’m going to run out of paper. Long story short, I don’t forgive you, but I think I can understand you. The two of us are like kindred spirits, there’s so many similarities between us. Dead parents, grew up in the foster system, had to learn survival skills had a young age, if you disregard the murders, we could almost be the same person. The part of me that still cries out for a parental figure to fill that void in my life misses you, life is certainly much less interesting without you around. But I hope that I don’t see you again, because I enjoy living. You’re never gonna read this, but I hope you got a kick out of this, Dr. Mixter, maybe you found some information in here that can be brought up and worked on in future therapy sessions?

‘Kindest’ regards,

Andy Barclay

[aramastus]

Love Within Chapter 2

It had been a few days sent the human mia left Chase was walking in from work when the smell of blood hit his nose…human blood. Did he step one on the way home just now not noticing? He checks the bottom of his shoes no smashed humans. He sniffed the air again coming from his kitchen. As he entered the kitchen, he sees a mess of blonde and red hair barely breathing on his floor.

He reached down to pick it up and turned it over in his hand. It is that woman Mia but why is she so wounded? It could be his cat, no she is too damn lazy to even catch a mouse. Mia looks up with her eyes filled with blood "Eat me…at least that way I will be useful for something". Chase stared at this half-dead woman she had lost all hope and will to live. Chase wonders what happened to make her want to give up life.

He tilted his head back slowly, lowering the woman's feet to mouth. The taste of sweetness and dirt hit his tongue. He gulps once her knees slide down into his throat. She was not even moving. He could feel her slow breath so she was alive. He swallowed again and took most of her into that. Closing his mouth as her head enters. He held off on the last shallow wanting to see if she was going to fight but no. He shallowed and then felt her form slide into his throat. He hummed and rubbed a large lump as it slowly slid down his throat. He sighs satisfied once he feels the weight in his belly.

Chase "Well I gave you your wish little lady"

Mia gaps sitting up fast "Ouch…" her body was sore. She was somewhere warm and wet and it  was helping smooth the pain.``..I'm alive?.... I thought Chase ate me"

She heard a rumble from all around her "I did love you did ask me to" Chase's voice replies.

Mia blinks so this warm wet stuff must be his stomach "Why  am I not dead them?" Pokes his stomach which was slimy and warm. But she is not feeling any burning from the acid.

Chase laughs again " I said I ate you 'cause you asked me to. I never said I was going to disgust you love" his stomach walls suddenly push in on Mia making her unable to move but it does not hurt. Then released her.

" But I thought you ate humans?" Mia asked, groaning as lays back down.

"I do eat them to survive, but I don't eat every human I come across as told you before" Chase started.

Mia ``how come I'm alive? I should have died from blood loss even if you didn't kill me. '' Her body was sore but she was alive nonetheless.

Chase hummed " I healed you love, many of us giants have special powers"

Mia " why tho? I'd be better off dead as your food…at least that way I'd have helped someone"

Chase " don't know felt like it. What in the hell happened to you for   being half-dead and willingly wanting to  become my food?" Mia feels the ground shift as she slides around on the floor of her stomach Chase must be moving around Mia thought.

Mia didn't say anything until she heard a loud thump above her and chase speck

"Hey I know you not sleeping so answer me"

Mia "What are you going to eat me if I don't" she grumped at him.

Chase roared into laughter making Mia slide and bounce all over his stomach. Once he finally stopped laughing " I already did that. But whatever if you don't want to tell me that fine" poked his stomach" where he felt her and laughed as she squeaked.

Mia "If you don't plan to use me as food what do you plan to do with me?"

Chase "No idea, didn't think that far ahead. For now, you can stay there"

There has yet to be a reply from Mia after that. Chase shrugs and turns on tv watching the newest horror movie.

For the next few hours  , Chase sat on the couch watching tv, feeling slightly moved. He rested both hands on his stomach. He didn't mind this at all, it was quite nice. He does feel bad that she is so…suicidal.

"Hey little lady, what happened that made it like this? Just a few days ago you were scared I was eating you or hurting your people now you're hoping I eat you? Well fully eaten" Chase said.

There was no reply for a few minutes.

Mia "I fucked up again….my clan wants me dead" pulls her knees up to her chest in one fold of stomach.

Chase "Um why? Didn't you just bring back a lot of food?" Rubbing his belly subconsciously.

Mia " I did…but….they were not happy I come back"

Chase does not say a thing for a moment but he is not surprised with comments the old man made when Running away. " Aren't they  your family and friends?" He asked

Mia " I have no friends or family alive anymore.I got the only family I had killed

.." cries.

Chase hit the soft spot "....what happened with your clan?"

Mia sighs holding back tears " I made it back to where my clan is with food. The captain was shocked I was alive…he asked what happen and how did I get away from you. I told them what happens..then he punched me and told me to leave and that I would be the death of more people. Sent I led you right to them, so I ran but he yelled to the whole clan what I did and they started throwing anything they could find at. That’s how I got most of the bruise."  Mia stopped talking for a minute to whip her tears.

Mia begins speaking again" I stay closed but not close to make sure you didn't follow me…. no  offense but I didn't fully trust you"

Chase laughs "non taken sweetheart"

Mia "Well the caption found out I was nearby he and a group of guys from the clan found me and well that's how I ended up looking like that when you found me…I asked one of the wild rats to bring me here so I could be useful in the same way in my life."

Chase had no words that was terrible she brought them back food and treated her like trash. I   get they are scared of us giants but that's a bit much. He finally says "They call us monsters, Mia that horrible….."

Mia " so just disgust me already! Or let out and find someone else to do it I don't want to live anyone"

Chase clutches his stomach tightly around her "Um no I'm not gonna let you run off and get killed after I just healed you, healing anyone is rather draining so it would be a waste let you die"

Mia squicked as their stomach gave her a full-body hug. It didn't hit the like she thought it would. " Then why did you? Don't say don't know"

Chase "alright alright I felt bad for you when saw you laying there half dead"

Mia "You felt bad for someone who is food to you?"

G

Chase "Well ya I may be a demon but I'm not a  bastard you know. I don't torture my food. I put them to sleep so don't feel pain unless they are a piece of the work"

Mia " Really? I thought all of you giant love heart us cry and beg…"

Chase: "No, it's annoying and not my thing. That would be wanting to watch pig or cow suffering before eating them  that is  fucked up"

Mia " I guess…."

Neither talked for what felt like forever.

Chase stands up breaking the silence" Look it late you have been worn out from everything why don't we just call  it night, and  talk more tomorrow, I promise you're safe in my belly for the night no one can hurt you ok?"

Mia says Notting as just lays down and passes out. https://www.tumblr.com/aramastus/722344073105653760/love-within-chatper-3?source=share ch 3

[pat-the-togorian]

Pat's Angstpril Day 8: Mind Games

I fell back to sleep just as my alarm rang. 

I felt like each leg weighed a ton as I dragged myself to breakfast. People smiled as I passed by, and Rema, Aheka and Sinvulkt all wished me good morning. 

How could everyone just go on with life when it was all so dark?

I jumped when Sinvulkt grabbed my shoulder as we left the cantina. “Pat,” she whispered. “Something is clearly upsetting you.” 

She knew. I just knew it. 

“I… had a bad dream,” I mumbled. I couldn’t lie, afterall. 

Sinvulkt gazed at me with empathy, yet trepidation. “Your fear felt very intense,” she whispered. “If you do need to talk about it, please, go ahead.”

“But I,” I choked, cursing my emotions. “I’m not supposed to have fear!” I blurted. 

Sinvulkt shook her head. “Just another impossibility of the Jedi Order,” she grumbled, clearly upset that I’d internalized that expectation. “So what did you see?” she asked, curiously. 

As I explained my dream, her gaze darkened. 

“That sounds like more than a dream, Pat,” she mused. “It sounds like you’ve had a Seer vision.”

I’d heard briefly of Seers. And I’d never liked the idea of being one. What would compliment my anxiety better than justification? 

I slumped, laying my head in my paws. “I… just don’t want to be afraid anymore,” I whispered. 

Sinvulkt herself looked unusually torn on how to act. “The Council would want to hear about this,” she spat. “But I think you should fight the visions off,” she finished, deviously. 

“H-how do you mean?”

“Develop your awareness. Start by testing yourself during the day. ‘Reality checks’ that you can get used to, for which you’ll notice their absence when you’re asleep, like acknowledging your consciousness, flicking your arm, questioning your existence… things that never really happen in a dream. Once you can establish that you’re in a dream and not in danger, well, being brave isn’t so hard!” 

“What about the Council? Should I tell them?”

“It’s your decision, Padawan,” Sinvulkt assured me. 

“I… I suppose I’ll have to,” I drew a shaky breath, drawing myself back upright. “It’s the right thing to do, afterall,” I rationalized. 

Sinvulkt gave me an admiring eye-roll. “Right for who, Pat?” 

“W-well… if they can really learn from this, I’m glad I can help.”

The Council was indeed very interested in the discovery of a new Seer. 

“We’ll have to change your curriculum,” Shaak Ti suggested. “You should become as clearly open and as willingly suggested by the dreams as possible, in order to provide the Order with the best foresight.” Most of the others agreed eagerly.

Aheka and Plo Koon exchanged a knowing and disturbed glance. 

“Masters, would that not lead Pat down a path of worsening fear?” Aheka spoke up. 

“I-I’ll do it,” I offered, doing my best to put on a brave face. 

“Pat, you don’t have to,” Aheka growled, although I could tell it was moreso directed at the Council. 

I wanted to help the Council, for sure. The Jedi Order had already made so many allowances for me. But I wanted not to be afraid more than anything. 

I pondered for a few more seconds, and flicked my wrist.

@formeralleycat

[vtforpedro]

health update TW in tags

I had to find my last update to see where I left off. Oofta. Things have progressed in both a good and bad way! I’d love to say only good lol dear god I wish I could say everything is just g o o d for once. I’m currently going through an emotional upheaval because of how badly my home life is and coming to realize I’m in an abusive situation with the last person on earth I thought that could happen. I’ve lost the last safe person ‘in real life’ that I have because of this. My mom. She is my solid rock and 100% full time supporter and this situation of becoming my nearly full time caregiver and the stresses it has put on her (let alone me) have, uh. Well, brought out the worst. It’s devastating honestly. My therapist has been a little too pushy for my liking trying to get me to hire home health help but 1. money 2. insurance would need a diagnosis if we went through them and idk if ‘hey we sliced up her nerves in her back during an LP and didn’t find out until five months in’ would cut it 3. I don’t really need it anymore. But yeah emotionally I am wrecked. My mom refuses therapy or family therapy so I have to keep surviving this kind of horrific situation I’m in lol it’s been bad the entire time but I finally snapped months into it and started laying down hard boundaries and for those of you familiar with abusers, you’ve probably experienced the joy of their reactions to boundaries. :) It’s situational because my mom has never been this way with me in my life but I feel like 31 years went down the drain in *months* and the things she’s said and done can’t be completely recovered from. I don’t know what to do. Once I’m out of this situation I can tell her that the only way I will ever feel comfortable being open with her again is to do family therapy but 🤷‍♀️ can’t make her do anything, so we’ll see. Physical health wise re: the LP horror show? BETTER! I’m getting better. I started physical therapy a month ago and I think I’ve had 6 sessions? Maybe 7? Idk. Leaps and bounds. I can sit on a toilet by myself. I can sit and stand everywhere but one place by myself and it’s only because my couch is wasted lmao and I need help up for the same reason. Otherwise? All me. We’re practicing getting up by myself from my recliner (can do just fine) and getting down and comfortable with everything I need (still a work in progress) so my mom can go to her home more and work more and we both get independence!!!!! I am going to sit at my computer chair and see how long I last before it hurts but I need my body to get used to sitting up again. Otherwise, the two guys I work with (one, mostly, as the other is v quiet) is THRILLED with how well I’m doing and that even if I’m tired/in pain I get through PT every time. I’m super psyched actually. Legit PUMPED every time I step into this place. It feels fantastic. I can’t wait to see where I am in another month. Maybe out of this recliner except when I willingly want to be in it 😂 but still gonna pace myself and listen to my body. I saw my pain specialist yesterday (who ordered the PT) and I told her and she said she had literal goosebumps and she was so happy for me. It felt really good to hear ;3; Unfortunately, head pressure is getting bad but hey at least I got the LP done 🙄 need to lose weight and adjust meds and hopefully get the rest of my normal life back someday. Gonna needs lots of trauma therapy to get there too. So that’s far off. I’ve not been feeling too well lately generally tho and I’m nervous b/c I have labs for my hematologist on Monday and she wants to check for ‘other leukemias and lymphomas’ so hhhhhh. I’ll see her a couple weeks after that and I’m afraid she’s gonna order the bone marrow biopsy but u_u what can I do Anyway. Hope you’re all doing okay. Love you all and thanks for always listening and supporting me. It means the world. 💜

[saturnsorbits]

Hi hello I (btp) am here to talk about my dabihawksbtp self ship 👉👈

I love rainy days. A rainy weekend morning? We’d all slowly wake up and hear the rain lazily tap against the window and just lay there enjoying the warmth and holding each other. Eventually one of us would get out of bed, but it wouldn’t be by choice, it would be because of like needing the bathroom or something and then we’d all slowly filter into the kitchen for coffee.

I’ve given a lot of thought about who does the cooking in the relationship. Hawks is a busy man and has no time to cook and lived on convenient take out or mooching off people who can cook before we all got together. In a No Quirk AU, Dabi was a culinary student and became a cook and if there’s one thing I’ve learned by living with people who cook for a job is that they don’t want to cook all day and then come home and cook some more so he would occasionally cook and when he does it would be amazing. Which leaves me, living my best stay at home wife life and I’d be the one making dinners and packing lunches and I stg if either of them get in the way while I’m making dinner then they’re on dish duty.

Anywho thanks for letting me ramble~ that’s my self ship. But what about yours? What are you and Denki doing on rainy days?

Hey, hey, hey! 💕

Okay, first off - That lazy rainy morning sounds perfect. Just being able to bask in each other on those days and knowing that no-one wants to be anywhere else except for exactly where they are... 😭

Secondly: we both love and respect the stay at home wife life. 100% you are Dabi's shining light in the dark when he hits his lunch hour and can think of nothing worse than eating anything that smells even remotely like the kitchen he's working in. Appreciates more than you'll ever know that you just text him, mid-day with what you're cooking so he doesn't even have to think about food when he clocks out.

Hawks, on the other hand, will willingly take dish duty if it means getting to watch you cook. I feel like he's a little mystified by it, like you say he's never really bothered to learn properly so I feel like it's both really calming and incredibly interesting for him to just sit there and observe.

Also totally here for the three of you sitting down after a long day and just sharing a simple, home cooked meal together chatting about nothing and everything 🥰

[kamandzak]

Excerpt | Working Title 'Render Me Speechless'

Context - Sam has a dissociative/suicidal ideation episode.

I wanted to rip my hand out of Will’s and run out into oncoming traffic. I wanted to run over to the lawn care service three units down and douse myself in their gasoline before setting myself on fire. I wanted to find the nearest standing body of water and lay face-first until it took me over completely. I wanted to be anywhere but alive. Living meant I had to remain aware of all the ways in which I had caused pain in another’s life, intentional or not. I had to keep the memories of Cassie and Chance and my mother and the people who had come and gone without leaving much of an impact at all but who still weighed me down like the stones in Virginia Woolfe’s coat pockets. I longed for a way to kill the synapses that connected me to those who I cared for but that would leave my physical body intact. Maybe I didn’t want to kill myself. Maybe I just wanted to kill the parts of me that made living unbearable.

I wasn’t living in that kind of world, though. I wasn’t living in an episode of Futurama in the year 3000 where doctors could simply go in and laser the connections between the conscious and unconscious with no repercussions or consequences. I was living in the present and it was excruciating. Every movement, whether I was aware of it or not, was working to pull an aching anchor through Mariana’s Trench depths and sunless silt. With each new notch in my belt of life’s experiences came another anchor, and with each anchor came the increase in required effort not to merely remain in motion but simply to keep my head from going under. I was in a constant fight to not let the dark sides of me win.

A bolt cutter snipped one of the heavy chains, allowing for buoyancy as I managed to lift my head out of the unrelenting waves. I was in a living room – whose I didn’t know – and overwhelming anger rose quickly. Why couldn’t I just get it together? Why did I remain so out of control when I could identify y demons? What was I missing? I couldn’t start healing until I found that tray piece of the puzzle. I was starting to think I’d never see it again. “You’re safe.” I retched at the words. Safe. What did that even mean? Safe was gone – dead in the water. “I promise. You don’t believe me but you are.” A firm pressure wrapped around my upper body and I prayed it was Death at last giving me the greatest gift of my ‘life’. After all, there were no recollections of what it felt like to die out in the living world. For all we knew it felt like the truest, deepest love from a person who cared for us unconditionally. So appealing it was; so inviting was the idea of death – and better yet seeing Cass and Mom again – that I found myself relaxing into the warm arms of the End of Times. “There you go.” The Grim Reaper was speaking to me, drawing me in, the grip tightening and crawling up my spine to the nape of my neck. “You’re safe.” Coming from the mouth of the Afterworld, Will’s sentiment was a source of otherworldly understanding. “Sam?”

By name I was being beckoned. “Can you look at me?” I didn’t dare open my eyes and behold that which welcomed me without extraneous commentary. “No.” “That’s okay. Follow me, then.” I did so willingly, enthusiastically even, blindly led into a space no more or less dark as I didn’t dare to open my eyes but with a refreshing chill that reined in my heartbeat. I would be calm and relaxed for my introduction to whatever was awaiting me on the other side…. The first thing to go right in a long time. So far out of myself was I that it never occurred to me that maybe I wasn’t fully aware of my sense of being. “Sit.” I obeyed. “Take this.” Instinctively I lifted my hands and grasped at something unknown. “Drink.” The tip of a straw flitted across my tongue and with the stream of cold liquid came a sledgehammer to my throat as I was clotheslined by realty and realized that I wasn’t dead but instead sitting on a foreign couch in a foreign place with a barely-discernible face staring down at me. The featureless pale oval could have belonged to anyone; Cass, Chance, Mom… hell, even Dad or the cryptid Slenderman. Was Death faceless?

The figure moved and with it the surroundings shifted into focus. I wasn’t dead. I was gripping a glass of water so tightly my knuckles were pale, my chest heaving, and my eyes staring straight into those of Will as he crouched in front of me with his hands on my knees.

It was the first time I’d come out the other side of hell to find the person from Before still around.

[jack-bytez-genuine-corner]

Random rambling on white in a bio description

[I don’t think I use Tumblr right but I’m just going to do basically a diary entry to myself but I’m going to post it online like a moron instead]

So a few days ago I read a post that I didn’t agree with on any level, with the TL;DR being that minorities are being forced to shoehorn in their race / identities into their bios which is just not true. The main reason I don’t think that is true is that people actively like to put identifiable information, willingly, into their bios especially when it can mean finding a community that is similar to you, for safety, community, and what not I don’t think it’s a force, and I really didn’t agree with the idea that their info undermines any work they post ala Art, Writing, etc. People LIKE labels that they can apply to themselves and to things and even, including when it’s wrong, to others. It gives us a sense of self as people and that’s [Usually] a good thing, it just starts to become wrong when that is no longer a thing for individuals to decide and especially wrong when it’s a large group applying a label to a smaller group by force. Putting that info doesn’t demean you, or your work, or your person, if anything it’s kind of you and brave of you to put that out there for strangers to know.

The main thing that’s stuck with me is moreso why I don’t put say white into my bio because I’m a white gay 25 year old cis man, and I think it has a lot to do with that just looking innately bad to me. I’ve never interacted with someone in a positive sense who ever mentioned that they’re white as a pride thing or put any value into being white in person, and online I think it looks even worse with the rise of antisemitism among whites and the obvious White Supremacy movements. The OP would argue that I don’t do it cause I feel like my race is “Default” when in reality I don’t do it because there’s basically nothing to be proud of in being white or identifying as white. My life long friend who is now happily married and has a kid placed a lot of value in his Meximerican upbringing [His own wording] and told a lot of fun stories based on his family culture, but for me the only love I have for my family tree is in my immediate circle, so mother - father and that’s it. There’s nothing prideful to my racial identity at all or even worth talking about in a positive manner. Like yaaaay I’m the same race as Christopher Columbus, a mad mass murderer who invaded indigenous lands and pillaged them for any and all valuables while killing every single person who didn’t lay down and die that’s soooooooooooo wonderful, or yaaaaaay, I’m the same race as a bunch of puritans who forced their way onto a different country, genocided all the people there causing the long, incredibly violent and racist history of the US, wooooooooooooot......

Obviously I know I can be wrong to an extreme degree, but I really don’t think I’m wrong on this bit when it comes to myself. To me putting the label of “white” on yourself is pretty close to putting “I’m a giant asshole” in bold on your forehead. That’s not universally true obviously, but it definitely doesn’t fill me with confidence. I don’t have the same view when it comes to putting a cultural identity up there, like if you’re Chinese or Irish or German or Spanish that’s all well and good, it’s just the specific use of “white” that tends to bother me. Maybe I haven’t been exposed to the right person, but it’s probably the last piece of info I’d ever want on someone online and in IRL if I hear you mention the words “Pride” and “white” in the same sentence I don’t think I’ll text you back ever. To me there’s an incredibly different context between putting “Black” or “POC” and whatnot on your bio and putting “white” on there.

... This is one of those posts that in 5 years someone will bring it back up to me with it being potentially problematic and I’ll implode right?

[especiallythatnight]

I mimic my predators to survive.

I disguise my old scars as battle trophies. A phony indicator of having fought battles and won. I mould myself so that I can slip into the skin of a predator- a clever way to disguise my fears. I chiseled away at myself to fit this disguise so perfectly that sometimes, even I forget that it was a farce to begin with.

It’s funny, how easy it seemed for you to peel away that facade that I had spent an eternity perfecting. The shield that even I had forgotten I was hiding behind before I met you.

I was terrified at first. Terrified that you’d tear me to shreds the moment you saw me as I was, without the veil of protection obscuring your perspective of me. And to be honest, I still am; I’m still scared that you’ll hurt me. That you’ll leave me bleeding and alone, no matter how much I try to fight it.

This is exactly why I camouflage myself- because people like you are bound to leave a trail of pain when you encounter people like me. Because I know it’s better to hide who I am than to get hurt again.

But in some twisted way, as much as it scares me, I want you to break me. I’d like to be the image of a perfect sacrifice for you- a fawn, gracefully sat with its neck exposed. I’m laying myself down willingly on your altar, ready for you to sink your teeth in and rip me into a million little pieces. Because I know there is no other way that you know to hold onto someone like me. And I need for you to hold on as long as you can. The pain you bring me, the vulnerability that you bring me is the most alive I’ve felt in years- your fangs digging into my skin and the blood it draws makes me feel intoxicated.

I have no reason to fight back. All I want is for you to destroy me completely. For once in a long, long time, I’m not trying to chase a win. I’m not trying to come out on top. All I want is your presence, no matter what the cost.

Break me down to my core, so that you can carry with you the pieces of me that you have torn off like a trophy for the rest of your life. Ravage me. Destroy me. I just need you to remember me as the perfect sacrifice. That’s all I ask.

[keefwho]

August 19

12:00 PM

I just need to stop, I can’t take this anxiety. I literally am too tired to deal with it right now. I want it all to stop. Its so STUPID, none of it makes any sense. It’s a bunch of broken thought processes. That makes it all the more irritating. 

1:58 PM

I’ve got a challenge ahead of me, I can do this. I want to break free from this constant worry. Remember that I keep expecting the worse, but nothing should be as bad as I imagine it. It’ll be a normal week going forward. The people in the area are probably normal people and don’t even know it might storm or simply don’t care. They don’t obsess over this like I do. What I do is abnormal, I aim to be like all these other people. They put into perspective that my worry is unfounded. SO many people don’t think about this kind of thing daily so it must not be a big deal. I’m okay, I’m healthy and that’s normal. It’s normal to find distractions to pass the time. I don’t have to monitor my stomach, it does me no good. I should be focusing on things I like to do. 

I might be lonely this weekend but that’s okay too. I shouldn’t be, I can always hop on VR with other people. And I can still message my friends. I feel like I puppy left home alone right now. Maybe because while I CAN hang out with other people, I can’t just start approaching them with my problems. I don’t feel the same kind of comfort around them as I do my bestest friends. 

Remember not to expect the worst, expect neutral. 

Also remember that even though having and actual stomach virus would be miserable, it’s almost impossible I could get one right now. It’s very rare as it is for people that actually go outside. I’m completely safe, and I’d know if I had something that bad. 

2:24 PM

I keep thinking that I’ve gotten worse over time but I think it might just be that I’m aware of it. I’ve always had these kinds of feelings but the difference before is that I would avoid them so much. Now I’m not avoiding them at all and I’m finding that they are much more present than I thought. 

4:21 PM

How do I know if I’m being too much to my friends. How can I tell if I’m not wanted. I don’t think I can. Sometimes people don’t speak up and will keep putting up with you. I don’t want to bother anybody. 

I’ll try to be brave. No one else should have to deal with me dumping my problems on them without asking. 

4:54 PM

I don’t know why I feel like this today. I just want to lay down, cry, and stop existing. Everything is so hard these days and I don’t even have a light at the end of the tunnel I’m fighting for. Everything is uncertain. I feel alone through all of it. 

6:32 PM

Time for more shameful documentation of my actual insanity. Neck hurts, tummy rumbles, I get scared for no reason. I submitted for a bit and napped while balled up in my hoodie in my chair. Woke up, took my temperature, it’s totally normal. I gotta remember it’s basically impossible to be sick, so stop thinking about it. Being healthy is normal, the evidence is all around me. AND I can still feel healthy and feel like shit. My neck still hurts and the nap made it worse. Sure I don’t feel perfectly great but I feel okay and thats normal behavior. No matter how I feel, realistically nothing terrible will happen in the near future. I will NOT get sick, and the storms will likely be weak. Its not the end of my life. All this will be over soon and things will go back to normal. 

My friends don’t hate me, their behavior proves otherwise. Someone that doesn’t want to be around me wouldn’t willingly be around me. 

I’m not a bad person, I’m just in a bad mood. I’ll probably feel better tomorrow. 

6:57 PM

Pretend no storms are gonna happen. Then what? Then Im just dealing with the usual and trying not to get too bored. It would be comforting not having to put up with even more stuff I cant control. I bet there wont even be any windy storms, theres barely been any word of their severity. Im worrying for nothing. Ill probably feel silly when its all over just like last time. 

Ive been deep in the anxiety. I don’t even know what I want. Who do I want to be and what do I want to do. I dont know, I just know I want to feel better. But then what? I’ll just be bored and go back to worrying because it’s the easiest thing to feel. 

I guess who I want to be right now is the guy that would look forward to drinking on a Friday night with literally anyone. And then doing something productive and creative when social time is over. I’d eat a lovely drunk dinner and go to bed. Im not sure if I can achieve that right now but its an idea to keep in mind at least. 

7:42 PM

Who even am I anymore. My fear has been ruling my life for weeks now. I’m not me, I’m a cocoon covered in my stupid problems. I’m not the guy that gets his work done and stands as a pillar on his own anymore. I’m a loser. I feel like every day I lose a little more personality. The dynamics with ALL my friends has changed and it’s all my fault. I HAVE to figure this shit out, I don’t want to slip any further. I miss what I used to be, I felt much more confident. Right now I feel confused as to why anyone bothers to be my friend. Or like the only reason anyone likes me is if I draw for them or something. I used to be more fun and do more things. These days I stick to whats comfortable because I’m afraid of slipping into a panic. 

9:26 PM

Still neck deep in this crisis. There’s so much to untangle I don’t even know where to start. Maybe I’ll rant about it later. Right now my eyes hurt and I need to be eating something. 

I’m all alone and no one is thinking about me. I’ve got no one but myself right now.

11:44 PM

I’ll try my best to not overthink things tomorrow and take the day as it comes. I’ll try to stay disciplined and act in ways that foster the kind of way I want to behave. 

There are so many problems to tackle, its best to do them one at a time. If I conquer my anxiety for a little bit and start to feel worthless or something, then so be it. Eliminated my anxiety is my first goal. Other things can come later. I think the biggest thing is acceptance. Acceptance that my fears COULD happen, but are not destined. Some things will always be out of my control, but others will stay in my control. I can only do what I’m able. 

12:05 PM

I think I’ve had my emotional time. I’ve kinda been going ham letting things spill out everywhere but it’s time to reign it in a little bit I think. Let it out more appropriately. I’ll try to distract myself more in the hopes that I won’t actually be DISTRACTING myself, but instead actually doing things that bring me meaning.