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#oh my god i hate myself
kar1nsworldx · 1 year
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RANT to someone who will never see this;
If I would tell you my real fealings towards you you'd hate me with a burning passion.
Oh but I love you, I love you to death my dear..
You're the reason why am I'm still here (alive) and I'll always be here until you leave me, because everyone dose. I love you to death, to the moon and back. I'd do anything for you, I'd kill, I'd steal, anything. Because I love you. But your not mine..not in that way. And I understand. Atleast you are my best friend, and I am yours. And I'm happy with that (I am not and i don't think I'll ever be, not til I get over you). I'd wish we could be more but I know we'll never be so I'll try to be happy with being your best friend. But know that I love you and I always will, even when you leave me. Because God, you mean everything to me. Everytime I see a text from you I light up. I'm always buzzing with happines and excitment when I see you and when we hang out. And when you ask me if I'm okay becasue I was lost in my head, I'd say that I'm fine and that I'm day-dreaming about some boy and then you'd laugh and tease me about it and I'd be happy with that because I'd see your smile and hear your laugh. But I'm not. I'm thinking about you. About your perfectly messy hair that you hate but I love, about your beautiful blue eyes that shine everytime you see me him, your boyfriend. I think about you and only you. Your so so pretty but you don't even know it. My heart breaks every time you say that you hate yourself, that you find yourself ugly or disgusting. You are my other half my dear. Not my romantic other half but my platonic other half sadly. But Im trying to be happy and consent with being your platonic other half. I love you so so much my dear, so so much..but you'll never know because If you did you'd hate me with a burning passion.
God I hate myself for loving you like that. I wish I don't love you like that but I do. And I don't know what to do about it.
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sucknizzo · 2 months
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merinate · 8 months
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shut up shut up shut up
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could you write something with the hero and villain fake dating? (you totallt dont have to if you dont want to or something I just wanted to ask cus I loveee the trope!)
"Kiss me," the villain said.
"No fucking way." A horrible blush started to spread over the hero's neck. The worst thing about this was that this had been their idea in the first place.
They were ashamed to admit it but when they had arrested the villain a few months ago, they had suggested to the judge a different kind of punishment. At the time, there wasn't much evidence of the villain's criminal activities, so the hero had thought it to be more practical if the villain had to work together with other heroes. As a kind of community service.
After all, the villain was smart when it came to these schemes.
However, for whatever reason, they had been paired together. The hero didn't quite know what to do with themselves now. Ever since the mission had started, their brain wasn't functioning at all. It was quite self-explanatory. The villain was incredibly attractive and they were joking around, seizing every opportunity to flirt with the hero.
The hero suspected it to be some scheme to throw them off their game. But they couldn't be sure.
"These guys over there have been eyeing us the entire evening. If you ask me, they're not buying our little act." The villain let their fingertips ghost over the hero's knuckles and the hero's heart started to throb. The hero didn't turn around to look at the suspicious people the villain had been talking about. Their mind was somewhere else entirely.
On this after show party, they were supposed to observe highly influential people for suspicious activity. An election was coming up and although the hero loathed politics, it was obviously the right thing to do. They weren't supposed to be the ones being observed.
Usually, the hero wasn't very fond of undercover work. They were a horrible liar and improvisation wasn't their strong suit either. For the last few days, the villain had saved them more than once from embarrassing slip-ups. It was quite pathetic.
"And you have been flirted with already," the villain said. Somehow, their voice sounded bitter.
"They were just being nice," the hero said. They shifted on their chair. If someone was indeed observing them, maybe kissing the villain was the right thing to do. God, the hero didn't have much experience and they feared they would make a fool out of themsleves once again.
The villain probably had a new lover every week or so.
"They wanted to buy you a drink."
"Ehh," the hero said. "It doesn't really matter, does it?"
"It's compromising the mission."
"Is that person who wanted to buy me a drink one of those guys who have been 'eyeing' us the entire evening?" the hero asked. They leaned over and took the villain's hand. Whenever they looked into the villain's eyes, their stupid heart skipped a beat but they tried to come closer, to appear more in love.
It was quite strange for them to display physical intimacy in public. They had never really considered themselves to be fit for relationships - work got in the way every single time but the villain brought enough casualness into the (fake) relationship to somewhat ease the hero's nerves.
The villain didn't answer their question, though.
"All I am trying to say is: when someone wants to buy you a drink, we don't look like a couple," the villain said. Their eyes dropped to the hero's lips and the hero leaned over, holding onto the villain's hand.
"Well, you could have come with me to the bar," the hero said. They shrugged and took a sip of their drink with a shaky hand the villain observed a little too long.
"I will keep that in mind." The villain followed the little veins on the hero's wrist of the hand that was holding onto them. The hero was so nervous they weren't sure if they had to cry or laugh.
"Okay, be honest. Is someone watching?" the hero asked. They managed to scoot over towards the villain.
The villain's eyes were still on the hero, observed every little move. To say the villain could be relentless was an understatement.
"They have the audacity to check you out." The villain's voice was low, even though their mouth formed a sweet smile. The hero hadn’t even realised how tight their grip was around the villain's hands. "Probably some disgusting perv. I can’t blame them, though. You look incredible."
The villain leaned in, touched the hero's forearm gently and immediately, the hero’s heart sped up.
"You have to be very careful or I will actually fall in-"
And then, the hero kissed them.
For whatever reason, they kissed them. They put their flat hand on the villain's neck and pulled them close until their lips met. Later, the hero would blame their own nervousness but truthfully, they didn't know exactly why they did it.
The hero considered themselves inexperienced - rightfully so - and heard their own heartbeat in their ears as the villain smiled against their lips. The hero felt clumsy and stupid; they didn't know exactly what they were doing. So, it was even more embarrassing when the villain put a hand on their thigh, squeezed softly and responded with slow kisses, forcing the hero to adapt.
Although the hero was painfully aware of their own nervousness, they were also calming down slowly. The villain was guiding them through it perfectly and they hated themselves for being in need of it.
Eventually, the hero pulled away and found it to be quite hard to look into the villain's eyes.
"Impressive," the villain murmured. Their smirk wasn't leaving their face.
"Sorry, I- uh-"
"Don't apologise."
"Oh, yes, uh..." The villain leaned over once more until they could whisper into the hero's ear.
"You did so well, don't you know that?"
"Are - are they still watching us?"
"No, my love." The villain gave the hero a peck on their temple. "How do you feel?"
"Nervous," they admitted.
"You're not really a fan of being undercover, are you?" The villain took their hand and the hero squeezed it, trying somehow to stop their hands from shaking.
"It's my least favourite thing about this job," the hero said. They took in a deep breath and tried to gather their thoughts.
The villain could be so sweet - the reassurance and the gentleness were so foreign to the hero that it scared them. Most of the time, their job was focused on performance and results. There wasn't much space for emotions. They weren't used to someone praising them.
"Don't worry, you are amazing at this," the villain purred. "If it's too much for you, we can always leave."
"But the mission..."
"Well, if you want my honest opinion: I couldn't care less about it. I am just enjoying my time with you."
The hero had to chuckle.
"You are terrible."
"It's your call. I can take the blame if your boss gives you an earful."
"Really?"
"Really."
Once they were back in their hotel room, the hero dared to sleep in the bed with the villain next to them and awoke unsurprisingly in their arms in the morning.
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tiddygame · 7 months
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i’ve stared at this for so long that i now hate it and think ive lost all concept of how to write so take this and get it out of my google docs
the introduction is rough and the medical depictions (and accuracy/realism) could use some (a lot of) work but whatever! here it is, my vague yet still oddly specific idea of how the face reveal would go in @myriadblvck ’s streamer au:
tw: description of a panic attack? i think?
[this takes place post first irl meet but before they’re officially together]
imagine ghost has a glasgow smile but on one side they carved a little too deep and left some nerve damage. time and surgery helped, after which he could eat unimpeded and talk without a lisp, but there's still some facial nerve damage and/or skin contractures from scarring, specifically around the corner of his mouth.
now, everytime he smiles, be it shit eating grin or a full genuine joy filled smile that not even grumpy mcgrumperson could hold off, it always looks wrong because one corner doesn't raise fully like the other.
everything else is fine, there isn’t any facial paralysis, he just smiles… wrong. especially since only one eye properly squints when he smiles, giving him the look of someone who got stuck mid wink.
if he wants to look “normal” (or as normal as he could get it) he has to manually squint his other eye. still, it always felt weird; you don't realize how much those muscles affect the rest of your face until they're gone.
it's why he learned to always wear the mask.
when his expression is neutral, you don’t really notice it. if you can see his mouth when he talks however, it’s obvious that there’s something wrong. he wouldn’t say he’s necessarily ashamed of the scars and damage itself, but it’s the stares that are the worst. before he started hiding behind it, people would openly gawk or even glare at him as if he was some ne’er-do-well gang member that got what was coming to him.
he still remembers the cosmetic surgeon that had been talking to him about fixing the contractures— the whole appointment was a fucking nightmare. the cuts had healed nicely enough especially considering how bad it could have been; he was lucky to only need a little cosmetic help. the only reason he was there was so he could fucking eat food without struggling to open his mouth.
the doctor spent god knows how long breaking down everything wrong with his face like he was a fucking car mechanic lying about how dirty your filter is. the guy constantly mentioned that while he was under, they could also fix his jawline, do a rhinoplasty, trying to break him down to agree to more work.
he was already fuming my the time the doc brought up how kids would react. asking ghost if he wanted to scare children since “you cant expect the little youngins that are still learning about the world to not get scared by something scary,” and that “even some adults would cringe at the scarring.”
what stuck out most was the condescending smile he had when he said it. as if he was pointing out the obvious and ghost was being stupid and shortsighted by not agreeing.
he declined everything except what was medically necessary. the procedure went fine and after an aggravatingly long recovery period, he could eat solid foods again without issue. but the comments still stuck with him.
…okay, maybe he’s a little ashamed.
scaring kids with your face doesn’t feel good and being reminded of everything you’ve lost when you try to smile can really fuck you up in a way words fail to describe.
so yeah, he hates it. he’s gotten used to the mask, both skull clad balaclava and simple medical mask, being a permanent layer of armor. even now that he’s a bit more comfortable in his own skin it still feels wrong to pull it off.
when he gets close to soap, it still feels like a layer of vulnerability that he’ll never be prepared for.
the first time he let soap see his face, there hadn’t been any grandiose build up, no extravagant planning.
simon had arrived just a few hours earlier. he hated commercial flights with a burning passion but it was always worth it to see johnny.
with soaps twin out of town for the week, he had decided to take leave to spend time with his friend, a friend that he most certainly did NOT have a crush on (a disclaimer roach and gaz heard everytime they started snickering over ghost taking leave.)
johnny had cooked something nice and simple for dinner, saying that simon had spent too long with MREs and deserved real food (ghost only agreed if he was the one washing the dishes, soap had laughed and told him he's not so kind as to let him off the hook for chores).
when they ate, it was always in the living room with johnny taking care to always stay angled away from simon, never trying to catch a glimpse, regardless of how much he wanted to see what was under the mask. the obvious gesture of kindness and respect for his boundaries always left him feeling all weird and fuzzy inside. but, then again, johnny seemed pretty good at triggering that feeling in general.
their finished plates were on the coffee table and johnny was watching whatever dumb movie he had put on. he was pretty sure the man spent more time talking over it and making fun of everything than he did actually watching it (it was simon’s favorite way to watch a movie.)
ghost however, was watching soap. thinking.
in the end, it was an impulsive decision made after a strong three seconds of consideration.
“you uhm— you can look by the way,” ghost stared at the can of soda in his hands, immediately regretting the words.
“what?” soap didn’t fully turn, just shifted slightly to hear him better. a simple gesture to show he was listening without turning to face him. it normally made simon happy to see that johnny was more than willing to accommodate for his boundaries. now though it made him feel stupid for robbing johnny of a normal face to face conversation, a normal human interaction, just over his idiotic insecurities.
“my face, you—,” he felt his heart block his airway and tried clearing his throat before continuing, “you can look if you want,” christ he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. why was he getting so fucked up over this?
“are you sure?” he hadn’t turned yet, but ghost could see his pensive expression from here. this should be nothing. realistically, he knew johnny seeing his scars wouldn’t suddenly make him hate him… right?
“yes.”
but it was more than the fear of hatred, wasn’t it? he was scared that johnny would see him. see more than just the scars, see all of the ugly idiosyncrasies and insecurities laid bare. afraid that johnny would see the truth of how unlovable he was.
jesus he was getting so fucking worked up and dramatic over nothing.
ghost didn’t look up. he made an effort to not focus on his peripheral vision. he heard soap turn, heard the intake of breath. the silence was loud only for a second. then, deafening white noise surrounded him, inescapable, suffocating.
fuck.
he didn’t regret giving permission but god did he regret everything else; the stupid scars, the stupid nerve damage, the stupid way he had managed to fall for someone so fucking good like johnny while he was unequivocally unworthy of his love.
stop being so fucking dramatic. you are not together, never have been and never will be. reality was blatant in front of him but it didn’t stop his heart from foolishly hoping.
he heard soap stand and walk closer. saw from where he was still staring a hole in the can his feet step in front of his. saw johnny’s hands raise. he took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and with a great deal of effort didn’t flinch when soaps fingers grazed his cheek.
both of his hands came up to cup his face, holding him and ever so slightly tilting his face up, giving him the chance to pull away. he didn’t. he may be a coward but he wasn’t backing down.
ghost eventually opened his eyes to see soap staring at him with wide eyes. he looked away, staring off to some point on the right. he hated not knowing what soap was thinking.
they stayed there for a while before soap broke the silence, muttering, “i fuckin knew you had freckles.”
it was stupid but it shocked a laugh out of ghost. he meant to drop his head, embarrassed that something so dumb made him laugh, but accidentally just pushed himself further into soaps hands making him blush.
he looked up and saw soap staring even harder than before. the chuckle died in his chest.
“do that again.”
ghost just gave him a confused look.
“smile.”
such a simple request, a one word sentence, but it set his face ablaze. his breath caught in his throat, somewhere around where his heart was still trying to choke him.
…he hadn’t thought it was that bad but soaps reaction indicated otherwise. fuck. was his it that awful? he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. this was stupid. he was stupid.
“simon,” of course, one word from johnny and it felt like he could breathe again.
“please?”
fucking goddamn soap and his stupid fucking puppy dog eyes and the way he has ghost wrapped around his fucking finger without even realizing.
ghost smiled. there was no real mirth, more a grimace than anything else. he just wanted to get this over with.
soap was still staring at him, his thumbs tracing his lips, following scars, drawing imaginary lines between freckles… if he wasn't so terrified it might have felt nice.
“Christ,” ghosts heart cracked more, “you weren't lying when you said you were beautiful.”
ghost huffed a laugh and went back to staring off to the right, the fake smile dropping. of course soap would try to lighten the mood with a joke.
his panic fled as quickly as it had consumed him, now just left sitting in soap's living room, face still cradled in caring hands, resigned to his mistakes.
he felt so tired and johnny's hands felt so inviting.
“i wasn't joking,” soap looked…upset? angry? wait— fuck, what’d he do?
ghost stared back at soap, confused and tired. soaps nails felt the grooves of the scar, catching where the skin was raised and lowered.
“you don't have to lie, soap. im a grown man. I'm not fragile. you don't need to coddle me,” ghost said it like it was a joke, hoping soap would laugh along and that this would all just blow over. that tomorrow morning they could forget this ever happened.
“are you calling me a liar?” soap’s brow furrowed. great. instead, he had managed to make everything worse and piss off soap as well.
ghost took in a deep breath, giving himself another shot at calming things down, “no, I'm not. I think you're lying, but you're not a liar,” he stood and stepped to the side, grabbing their dirty plates and walking them to the kitchen sink, “you just don't want to upset me, it's fine. I get it. you're a nice person but you don't have to lie to spare my feelings.”
“I am not fucking lying!” as per usual, all ghost had managed to do was make things worse. there’s a reason he had decided to stick to the battlefield and give up on domesticity.
“well alright then. agree to disagree,” he turned the kitchen tap and started rinsing the dishes, waiting for the water to heat up. just walk away. end it there. let us forget about this stupid blunder and move on. please just leave it. please, please, please—
“no.”
the force behind it damn near made ghost drop the plate he was holding. he managed to set it in the sink carefully and turned to face soap, who was now in the kitchen as well.
“i— I'm not just gonna fucking— simon,” soap took in a deeper breath and went to continue but ghost was faster.
“johnny,” he interrupted, walking forward with his hands up in a gesture of surrender, approaching slowly.
one last chance to not fuck everything up.
“the fact is they're called deformities for a reason. they're not cute. they're not pretty. they're your body’s way of healing what it can and protecting what it can't. it's not meant to look nice, it's just—”
“bullshit they’re not pretty! says fucking who?” the genuine distress in soap’s voice and force behind his words caught him off guard. “simon—”
he huffed and ran his fingers through his hair roughly, pulling slightly at the strands. christ, ghost needs to shut the fuck up. every single time he speaks he just upsets soap more and more.
he needs to retake his hostage negotiations courses. clearly he has forgotten everything about how to diffuse a situation.
johnny takes another second to breathe and collect his thoughts before he speaks.
“simon. I know that— that ‘this’ isn't something that's going to fix itself overnight and I don't expect it to. but, ‘the fact is,’ I think you're pretty.”
ghost opens his mouth to disagree but johnny doesn’t let him.
“no no,” johnny put his hand over simon’s mouth, shocking him into silence. he blinks twice, stupefied.
“i think— no. I know you're pretty. cute even. beautiful is a given but obviously worth mentioning.”
his hand moved to cup simon’s cheek. ghost grabbed his wrist but didn’t stop him, wether it was a warning or encouragement he himself didn’t know.
johnny continued, unperturbed, “you disagreeing doesn't change that, right?”
there was a pause and simon realized he wanted an answer.
“johnny-”
“ah ah!” his hand moved back to cover his mouth, grabbing his face and shaking his head back and forth, over accentuating his words, “you disagreeing doesn't change that, right? yes or no.”
he stopped shaking him and moved his hand back to simon’s cheek. simon sighed, defeated, “yes. you are right.”
johnny looked smug, “good. and what do you say when i give you a compliment you don’t agree with?”
simon sputtered, “wha— i don't fucking know—”
“nothing! you don’t say anything!” soap looked way too proud of himself and he continued, “or thank you if you feel so inclined.”
“that was a trick question,” simon replied eventually.
johnny thumbed over his scars once more, again tracing them, “sure it was. now go take a shower.”
he patted his cheek twice and walked to the hallway.
“wait,” johnny probably shook the few remaining brain cells out of his head. “this whole conversation ends with you telling me that I stink?”
“yes. rancid,” johnny opened the door to the linen closet. simon was still in the kitchen. the tap was still running.
“no dipshit, do you not remember telling me that commercial planes makes you feel gross?” johnny threw a towel at him, which he caught just in time for johnny to hit him with a bath rag.
ghost had mentioned that… ages ago, he thinks. on facetime with each other, discussing the merits of bathrooms on public transport. he had said that enclosed, crowded spaces like commercial planes or buses made him feel, well, gross. how—or why—did he remember that?
“but… I’m supposed to wash the dishes?” a weak argument against the stubbornness he was faced with but simon had officially lost track of his mind and this conversation.
johnny shot him a weird look as he walked back towards the kitchen sink. simon still hadn’t moved.
“did you think i was being serious earlier?”
“yes???” he felt like he had been given a lobotomy.
johnny decided to take pity on him and explained in a soft voice that felt out of place, “i was being sarcastic. i’m not going to make you wash the dishes, simon.”
“but that was the agreement: you cook and i wash the dishes.”
johnny laughed as if he remembered something funny, “yeah, i lied.”
simon still stood there, trying to figure out if he had a stroke. johnny had been angry, completely pissed at him, but now was letting him off the hook and calling him pretty? what the fuck is happening?
johnny turned him and pushed him towards the hallway. simon could have resisted but his resolve always seems to crumble around johnny mactavish.
“now go shower, you beautiful bastard,” soap grabbed one of the plates out of the sink and started washing it with water that had probably heated ages ago.
ghost walked towards the bathroom, feeling like he was on autopilot, limbs disconnected from his brain. his cheek still felt… odd? weird? tingly?
it felt something from where johnny had grabbed it. ghost thinks… he thinks he likes the feeling, whatever it is.
he needs to sleep.
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maxphilippa · 1 month
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Fucked up shit Taco has done on this episode:
- Force the contestants into talking about issues they still weren't ready to talk about.
- Immediately replaced Mic with Mepad, because, well. She said it herself. Having someone helps her think. Mepad was the closest and easiest to manipulate on doing that. After all... Mepad just left Mephone4's side. Of course Taco would use that against him.
- Sing about "how much she regrets everything" while still purposefully, AND CONSCIOUSLY, wanting to make things worse for everyone.
- Made fun of Suitcase's situation and messed with her, despite the fact that Suitcase genuinely thought that Taco was an hallucination.
- She PRACTICALLY FORCED SUITCASE TO TALK ABOUT SOMETHING SHE STILL WASN'T READY TO TALK ABOUT. INFRONT OF EVERYONE. PUSHING SOMEONE TO TALK ABOUT HER HALLUCINATIONS IS KIND OF MESSED UP.
- Keep feeling bad about herself but never did anything to actually TRY to be better.
- Used Mic's self elimination as a reason to why everyone should leave, despite the fact that she WAS the reason as to why Mic left on the first place.
- Kept pushing Knife to talk about Mic and to expose her.
- Died from the stress because despite the fact that she willingly did all of that, she couldn't face Pickle. Not yet.
- Made it all about herself and completely disregarded how everyone felt under the excuse of "this is the best for all of you".
- Made Baseball and Suitcase end up in TERRIBLE terms when they were just reworking their relationship.
- Essentially manipulated Mepad because of not showing him the full story aside from her regrets.
- "No more hiding" despite the fact that she veryyy well knows Pickle doesn't answer her letters for a reason, and that Mic left from how much pain she caused her.
- there's a lot more but i need to get onto that.
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yknow I really didn't think it was possible to make me angrier at JK Rowling but then I found out she wrote a book abt an autistic person being sucked into a cult (that's totally not an analogy for trans people what you talking abt) because they just can't possibly know what's good for them, they need their fathers to come and hire private investigators to get them out of a cult. And in the book autistic people are referred to by the r slur and called "a bit simple".
I didn't think it was possible for me to hate this paternalistic, honeyed head-patting, self-righteous, hate-driven HAG of a woman more than I did but fuck me here we are.
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izel-scribbles · 1 month
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just finished malevolent relisten. needless to say the obsession has been rekindled tenfold its previous magnitude
#im so fucking isnane about this podcast#ok notable reactions:#john.. Oh my god. It’s so insane to go back and hear how much he’s changed in the way he talks and reasons and treats arthur#i love you john doe malevolent#fav trans allegory ever!!!!!#definitely relate to him a normal amount (liar voice)#and then. S2. I really need to make that animatic with lonesome dreams#godddd i forgot how painful the ep18 divorce was#and then!!!! the canna mentions helping noel escape!!! completely forgot about that part#s3. oh my god. absolute fav season. soooo many crazy moments.#like coda??? “You want him back.” “I want him safe.” You want him baaack.” “I want him back”#KAYNE I FUCKING HATE THAT RAT BASTARD.NEED TO BASH HIS HEAD IN WITH A ROCK BUT HES A FREAK AND HED ENJOY IT SO I CANT#piece od shit#and then 23/24??????? arthur’s happy cry-laugh???? dead#part 25. “I killed myself. For a voice in my head. Do you know how mad that sounds?” what if IIII killed myself#26. god. Then 27. And 28. Literally my fav season ever#followed closely by s4#ohhhh my god i forgot how hot the butcher is like genuinely#i completely forgot prelude somehow???? giggling kicking my feet twirling my hair the whole time#i need to be this homicidal gay irishman hes so hot oh my god#the 29 divorce. with the movie lmaoo#i need to draw them going on a night out and seeing a movie and getting dinner and drinks and dancing and (gets shot)#gooddddd i remember listening to 31 for the first time and being so fucking confused#PART 33. HIT ME RIGHT IN THE EMOTIONS. OH MY GOD. BELLA SALTZMAN I COULD’VE TREATED YOU SO MUCH BETTER#34….. i can’t speak about 34 without barking and howling like a rabid dog#dog. Is that a butcher refere(gets shot for the third time)#NOELLLLLL MY DARLING WIFE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH#this has just inspired me to keep writing hofth with ella tbh#lowkey don’t even get the obsession with oscar tho i can’t be talking#to each their own or whatever
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jtl-fics · 1 year
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Fluent Freshman - Part 18
PREVIOUS
Weirdly enough the only thing that FF can think of as they head down the stairs is the first Saw movie.
That one happened IN a bathroom right? He kind of watched all of them in a row to prepare himself for whatever Andrew might decide to do to him. But he’s near positive that one happened in a bathroom. It was derelict and he didn’t think it really had running water (or did it? Didn’t the guy wake up in a half-full tub? His memory is hazy in his bathroom related desperation and may be trying to protect him from thinking about water).
All leading to the main thought going through his head as he slowly headed down the narrow stairway to his death.
Would Andrew let him use the facilities before he’s handcuffed to a pipe?
The worst part about all of this is that he is not sure if he needs to take a dump or if he just needs to fart, he knows he has to take a piss. He’s read that when you die your body will relax and it’ll all just flow out of you and Nicky gave him these pants so he feels bad but he also does not want to face his death without pants. If he needs to take a shit then they’re definitely going to be absolutely ruined, if it’s a fart well…Andrew can’t kill him any further? He can mutilate his corpse a little but FF won’t be around to experience it.
No matter what he’s definitely going to piss himself. He had way too much water at Sweeties trying to consume the spicy ice cream.
You may be wondering why FF has not run away from his predicament and is walking down these steps without protest or comment or plea for his life.
First of all he is pretty sure that if he makes any sudden movements he will ruin these pants that Nicky bought for him. Second of all Andrew had already told him once that he wouldn’t accept any pleading for mercy he still remembers how he asked Andrew, “Please give me back my pen?” and Andrew had shot him a look that had his stomach cramp and his fingers itch for the bottle sweet pink relief in his backpack.
“I don’t like that word, don’t use it around me.” He said.
FF ever the pragmatic sort, “Which one?” He had asked because he had said a few, “I don’t want there to be a misunderstanding.” He followed up with when Andrew glowered at him only for the glare’s intensity to increase 10 fold.
“Don’t use the first word of your first statement or the last word of your second.” Andrew grit out and got up to leave without a word.
Message received loud and clear Andrew did NOT like words ‘Please’ or ‘Misunderstanding’.
So FF knows that any pleading for mercy would ABSOLUTELY result in Andrew not letting him take a bathroom break before him and Captain Neil make destroying him into a couple activity. The fact that Captain Neil is here is a bit of a shock but maybe Captain Neil has finally gotten the other Freshman Dealer up to snuff.
Maybe Kevin really did want to dissect him to figure out how Strikers keep passing straight to him?
They reach the door at the bottom of the stairs.
Ah, time to face the music.
At least he’d texted Gran that he was going to die when they had gotten into the club and the bathroom had not made itself readily apparent. Sure it was about his current ‘gotta piss / gotta shit’ situation but he’d been wise to keep his cause of death vague in that text.
The door opens and…
This is the NICEST torture chamber FF has EVER seen. (And after his desperation watch of all the Saw movies he has seen quite a FEW)
“Minyard, Josten, and Guest. Table 6 is yours.” A voice comes from the side and when he looks over there’s a man in quite a nice uniform standing behind a soft-lit bar polishing a glass looking every bit like a bar tender at those high-end places you see in movies. He looks around a bit more and there are some other people down here. It’s not quiet per se but it is a comfortable level of noise in comparison to the IQ dropping noise upstairs.
“C’mon Smith.” Andrew juts his chin towards a table in the back.
FF follows but continues to try and fit this nice little room into his world view.
Do these people watch other people get tortured to death for fun on a Friday night? Unlikely considering the upholstery on the booths and chairs looked like it’d stain if blood got on it. Was this perhaps a trafficking location where Andrew would sell off his organs to the highest bidder? He looked at the other patrons who seemed a bit higher class than the general club scene upstairs but not like they had the money to buy one of his kidneys. Maybe-
“Do not tell Nicky about this place, ever.” Andrew says as they slide into the booth. FF nods but can’t help but tilt his head slightly in an unspoken question, “He would absolutely tell any and everyone about it. Eden’s wants to keep this place a secret from the general public.” Andrew explains.
“Nicky currently thinks that there’s a straight swingers club down here.” Captain Neil says with a huff of laughter.
“Eden’s is cool, even though there’s some sick shit in the basement.” Floats through his head again.
What the fuck was a swinger?
His fingers itch for his phone but he’s currently talking with Andrew and Captain Neil so that’d be rude but they’re talking to him like he absolutely knows what a swinger is and he DOES NOT.
“It’s quieter down here. Figured you’d prefer it.” Andrew says as he gets up and heads towards the bar down here where the bartender was aggressively cutting ice chunks.
He and Captain Neil sit in silence for a few seconds before Captain Neil offers him a slight smile, “I know you’d rather be with your grandma and you and Andrew prefer not to say things out loud but we’ve really liked hanging out with you.” Captain Neil says.
????????????????????????????????????????????????
That’s such a nice thing to say to someone.
Especially someone like FF.
Especially especially when they’re planning on killing him?
He hopes his confusion stays off his face as he nods once. “It’s been fun.” It’s not even really a lie. Thanksgiving yesterday had been nice and loud and FF had missed the chaos of a Family Dinner more than he had ever realized. The car ride had been…a time but once he’d asked Andrew to either keep his eyes on the road or let him out Andrew’s hands had stayed at 10 and 2 and the ride had been smooth. Aaron and Nicky’s weight against him had been nice too, a warm memory before he developed a possible life long aversion to whipped cream. He’d gotten to go Black Friday shopping and Captain Neil even helped carry it home for him. Baking bad been nice even if the stress of doing it with his life on the line was less so. The subsequent nap and day spent doing normal college guy things had been…it’d all been nice.
It’s starting to feel like….
“Drink this.” Andrew puts a drink down in front of him.
No Andrew definitely wants his bladder to burst.
“What is it?” He asks instead looking at the creamy looking drink with suspicion.
Andrew rolls his eyes as he hands Neil a fruity looking drink as he sits with what is a few fingers of scotch. “It’s virgin.” Andrew says not answering the question at all and must pick up that FF won’t be drinking it until he gets the full answer because he continues after a moment, “It’s like a Pina Colada but with bananas instead.” Andrew answers.
It’s not that FF hates banana but why in the world would Andrew grab him this? Was it just one of the few virgins options on this place’s fancy menu or-
“Bananas will help get your stomach acid back down.” Andrew says, “Since you’re an idiot and ate that mango ice cream just because you wanted to impress that girl.” He rolls his eyes.
“Impress that girl?” There weren’t any girls at the table and how in the world would him eating that god-forsaken spicy ice cream impress anyone other than Betsy. Even Betsy would only be impressed by the depths he was willing to reach just to avoid what he perceives as an awkward social situation.
“The waitress.” Neil reminds him as if that cleared anything up.
“Yeah,” he says as if he has understood the conversation but he has not. “It was spicy mango.” He says because maybe if he keeps the conversation going he’ll get enough context clues to understand what might be his last conversation.
Andrew let out a huff of laughter and pushed FF’s drink closer to him, “Drink your fancy Banana smoothie Casanova.” He says.
No closer to understanding the conversation he accepts that it might be something that only becomes clear after he sheds his mortal coil and is no longer given a -10 INT debuff by his full bladder and revolting stomach.
He takes a sip.
Oh that’s actually pretty good.
It feels like he can feel it sizzling in his stomach and soothing the discomfort there. Maybe he should look into Banana smoothies as a replacement for what Abby has called a ‘concerning co-dependence’ in regards to Pepto Bismol. No one can put him on a medical watch if it’s just banana smoothies he’s chugging down like they’re going out of style.
“Thanks,” he says, “that was good.” He admits before reaching into his jacket and moving past the Megamind toy and grabbing his wallet. “What do I owe you for that?” He asks.
“We’re even.” Andrew waves away the money.
“You bought the stuff for breakfast, those brownies, and the pie tomorrow.” Neil says and FF blinks surprised to hear that they were talking about the pie he didn’t think he was going to get the chance to make.
“You don’t need to buy a spot with us.” Andrew says and FF leans back slightly at the intensity on Andrew’s face as he says it. “I invited you here because I wanted to. The brownies were good but if you don’t feel like making the pie tomorrow? It’s not like I’m going to drive you back to Palmetto and leave you on Abby’s doorstep.” He says.
FF feels gears start to turn in his head.
“It’s good pie.” He hears himself say.
“I didn’t even know about the pie when I invited you.” Andrew says and…
Andrew and FF sit in silence but honestly it’s not like Andrew’s sharpening his knives. The two of them mostly just do their own work or read. FF has been getting his German literacy up to snuff so that he can read the language when he goes there to visit Nicky’s fiance next year. He likes how serious Andrew is about learning it so that he doesn’t have to ask Captain Neil a thousand questions and it’d be nice if Andrew wasn’t obviously planning on murdering him.
Andrew brings dried apples and sends Captain Neil along with probiotic yogurts to their meetings. Both of those things tend to soothe his stomach and the yogurt that had been unflavored before was now vanilla which he liked a fair bit. It would have been a really nice gesture if it wasn’t for the fact that Andrew was making fun of his tummy troubles.
Andrew will put his foot down in practice sometimes when Kevin is getting too demanding wanting to know exactly how FF intercepted his passes to Neil. Kevin always backs off and Andrew will do the same when Jack starts to get a little too personal in his attacks at FF or when Sheena decides she’s going to be a bitch. It’d be nice if it wasn’t Andrew staking his claim that he was the one who was going to make FF’s life miserable.
Andrew drove FF around for an hour after Greg had shown up. He found out later from one of his friends that Andrew had threatened Greg after he had power walked away into the building. Andrew had driven him around and had only started heading towards the tower when FF had relaxed. It would have been nice if Andrew wasn’t trying to lure him into a false sense of security.
Andrew had invited him to his Family’s house over Thanksgiving when the bad storm had ruined his Thanksgiving plans. Andrew had threatened Jack to stop him from eating his Grandma’s pie and complaining about it. Andrew had stopped messing around with Captain Neil when FF had made it clear he was uncomfortable being in a car where the driver wasn’t paying attention to the road. Andrew had twice made him go to bed in the last couple hours.
It’d be nice if…
“We’ve really liked hanging out with you” Captain Neil had said.
Andrew was just trying to be nice.
Embarrassment rolls over him like a wave but FF has many years of pretending like he’s not going to die from embarrassment, “Thanks for inviting me. I’ll still probably make the pie tomorrow.” He offers.
Andrew’s eyes change slightly and FF is under the impression that he’s happy to hear that.
“Just enjoy your drink Smith.” Andrew says.
FF does go back to sipping his drink and letting more and more memories of things Andrew had done come to him and lets his embarrassment grow.
He finishes his drink and only then realizes that he is a code red in terms of bladder capacity. The new knowledge that this is not a torture chamber but in fact yet another overture of friendship from Andrew paired with his desperation finally loosens the question from his mouth, “Where’s the bathroom here?” He asks.
“There isn’t one downstairs but just head up stairs and hug the wall to the left.” Captain Neil answers.
“Bring your phone. If Frank doesn’t recognize you to let you back in.” Andrew reminds him.
FF nods and heads out of the club and up the stairs.
He might be doing a bit of a potty dance so he forces himself to become unnoticeable because he does not need cool people at a cool club to see him about to piss himself. Once he enters into a stealth mode that the United States Military would like to talk to him about he hugs the wall and nearly cries tears of relief when he sees a door labelled MEN.
He doesn’t think about the possibility of letting up on stealth mode because he is sure that he is about to make a face that he does NOT want any human being to see when he unzips his pants and starts to take the world’s most life-affirming piss on the planet.
As his bladder empties his brain is able to process the understanding that he had come to down in the basement he had thought would be his final resting place.
Andrew has been trying to be nice (and succeeding it was all so nice! He feels like an asshole! He is an asshole! Gran always told him that assuming makes an Ass out of U and Me. He had just thought it was funny grandma humor not valuable life advice!)
The night wasn’t going to end with Andrew’s knife in his stomach, it was probably just going to end with Nicky puking on his shoes (which is fine because these are the shoes Nicky was letting him borrow for the club anyways, they’re his shoes to puke onto.)
A secondary relief fills his system. His stomach, soothed by the Banana smoothie and now this, feels like it might actually let him live through the night.
While FF was distracted with a piss that would have made any number of cult leaders jealous with the number of divine revelations he was experiencing he failed to notice a second man enter the bathroom.
There was a reason that FF always ALWAYS became noticeable when he was at a urinal and the man who came to the urinal right next to him was showcasing that VERY reason.
He was trapped here for at least ten more seconds and he could hear the man grumbling distractedly but didn’t really pay it too much attention until…
“Fucking Wesninski Brat.” He grumbled under his breath.
Oh god dammit.
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NEXT
MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU
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here-there-be-drag0ns · 5 months
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Hornfels: oh hey you're back early-
Me: sun's haunted
Hornfels: what?
Me: *flipping off the Nomai statue and climbing back in the ship* sun's haunted
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cure-stars · 1 month
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"but you see......this is where my story ends."
"then, let's start it―― right now! your next story!"
as if you're opening a present every second.
as if i'm searching for a star that's still unknown to anyone. 🎪
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dumping more of my stancest feels here because i cannot NOT think of them. i read journal 3 for the first time this week and its great because Ford acts like stanley's biggest hater which is pretty fking funny (if not absolutely infuriating at times because omfg stfu you smug prick)
but the moments like this get to me
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Ford being blinded by his quest of grandeur, accolades and praise for world changing discoveries, so obsessed with greatness, being the first name people remember, and all the other things his npd-isms tells him he wants.
And then there's "reminds me of camping with my brother. i wonder what he's up to..."
i mentioned in my previous post that stan acts quite a lot like the anchor to ford's boat, keeping him grounded and most importantly, safe from both the bitter and the sweet kinds of evils. but he also represents something so much simpler to ford too: the simple desires he represses so much because its not "good enough" for someone special like him.
he resents stan so much because he represents a "block" against that percieved good enough success he wants, the obstacle that made it impossible to get in a fancy college, become the world renowed researcher, the one who wanted to destroy his journal's and lifes work (even though it was the better, safer option if Bill really WAS that dangerous, which he was) that could still make him famous. because if ford's not "praised and weird" then he's just "weird" and being "weird" was nothing but a pain his whole life that kept him rejected and isolated from the masses. and stan prevented him from that.
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(btw "maybe he can prove himself to me" is nasty work my god ford is a douche lmao)
a lot of his projections of something greater comes through with how he treated dipper in the show (his whole spiel in damvtf) and fiddleford in journal 3 where he looks down on the happy life that fiddleford had with his wife and child and saying he was "wasting his talents" making computers. and like, we all know by the way he takes them on high stakes adventures they're not as prepared for compared to him (and end up causing more trouble than not by doing so), he's trying to fill a gaping hole left by someone else. we all know this obviously, we all know what we ship here, but what i came to appreciate the most about it is how much that gaping hole exists in the low stakes
everytime ford is thinking during the "down time" moments, his thoughts always drift back to his childhood, and one person who represents it.
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childhood memories, making fun of stans favorite snack, scribbling out a design of the stan o war, whenever Ford lets his mind wander it expresses such an intense yearning for the past before he became obsessed with wanting something more. these are his most utmost and most unfiltered thoughts, which is why he scribles them away or and writes in code. and the fact that he directly says they are about NOT getting married, followed with "wondering what he's doing right now", painting the picture of what his most ideal idylic life is. wanting a return of something lost. wanting Stan back more than anything.
he finally accepts that his dream never really changed, just the same as stan's and so they saild off together for the rest of their days, in ford's own words (which ironically sounds like a marriage to me either way so tough shit ford)
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lunarharp · 1 year
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into the deep end - 30k T orufrey fic, focusing on memory trauma, disability, and romance.
the sweet oblivion of the victim, the poisoned freedom of the other.
for one moment - it had felt like two parts returned - the needed reunion of two disparate halves. no more secrets, no more pain.
the moment you get to give back what you never wanted to take. that moment, under the night-blooming flowers, when they had both let out the same single broken sigh of relief.
but they were never whole to begin with, were they?
qifrey swore he wouldn't say 'sorry' to this man any more if he could help it - sorry is cheap now. he didn't want to be in a position ever again where you only have 'sorry' left. so he just looks down into the threads of his blanket, strains his eye until it hurts, feeling his insides - his throat, heart and head - burn with pain. he expects more, but olly says nothing.
olly says nothing.
#witch hat tag#orufrey#sorry i wanted to make a new post for my fic since the first illustration is new.#*stands in the middle of a desolate field in the pouring rain* Please Read My Tale...Blease..Oh god please..*collapses to the ground*#someone asked if there's spoilers in it. Um...yes. Sorry...it's about everything#maybe i should describe it more? it's about qifrey becoming more and more disabled - as i feel is his canon trajectory#and both of them processing the choices that have been made. it was necessary for me to explore this in order to fully understand orufrey#and for them to have the cathartic conclusion-that's why this is important to me for my witch hat fanwork making life. this connects it all#and having dived into qifrey's mind and lived through oru's feelings i was able to get to a place that is possible for them.#the hit/kudos ratio is so pathetic idek what happened. ppl opening it realising its long and saving it for later or just bailing lmfao#idek any more i hate advertising my writing i hate trying to get more ppl to read my long fics it's so hard 🥲#i'm so much prouder of this than my art...i was able to sink deeply into the orufrey feelings i had always wanted to fully explore#so. it's there lol.........i reread the date/kiss segment today after trying to forget about it thinking maybe the fic is just BAD lol#and like.....nope! i like it very much and this is what i was trying to get across. and it's always there to be read by anyone who wants to#and i will always remember the bliss i felt while writing when i was just lost in their world and living as them. dear GOD i love them.#i'm grateful to myself that i put in the work and love to make this so that i can always come back to it. i wanna illustrate scenes properly#but i'm never satisfied with drawing things i've written because i just can't capture the vivid experience in my mind. maybe one day.
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necrotic-nephilim · 2 months
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What's so fun about BruJay as a ship is Jason's sheer obsessive devotion to Bruce. Jason is possessive over Bruce, to the point he doesn't care about the deaths of others so long as he has Bruce's attention. A part of the UTRH arc this isn't talked about enough is that Bludhaven fucking explodes mid-way and Jason won't let Bruce see if Dick is alive.
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batman (1940) #650
A lot of discussion about UTRH paints Jason as this anger-driven cold, calculating machine up against Bruce when it's so clear that his love for Bruce is what drives him at his root, even if he won't acknowledge it. He says it himself, he would've done anything if it was Bruce who'd died instead of him and his anger is rooted in that possessive devotion not being reciprocated.
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batman (194) #650
BruJay as a ship always to be, to some level, unrequited. Even if Bruce loves Jason back in that way, he'll never be that obsessed with Jason. Jason will always view Bruce's love for Dick or Tim to be a distraction, proof that Bruce isn't dedicated enough to him. Jason has the need to always have Bruce's attention, even when it could come at the cost of Bruce's other loved ones. Something something cannibalism as a metaphor for love in how Jason wants to consume Bruce's whole existence. He can't let Bruce leave him again, can't let Bruce love or grieve anyone else. Forcing Bruce to choose between Jason and the Joker isn't just about confronting Jason's killer, it's about confronting the other person who exists as this duality with Bruce and consumes so much of Bruce's life. That's the role Jason wants to fill, calling himself Red Hood and forcing Bruce to look at what he's become. But still loving Bruce and wanting more than anything for Bruce to reciprocate that love in the way that Jason understands. I just think it's good soup and rife with Dynamics that are underexplored with them.
#necrotic festerings#brujay#jaybruce#jaybru#jason todd x bruce wayne#batcest#i've had this thought in my head for a while#i was just weirdly shy about posting it? like convinced myself it's not as verbose as some of my other thoughts#also GOD why is the art of this arc SO BAD.#i can't take it SERIOUSLY#i hate looking at it.#the faces. why are the faces like that.#brujay needs more love bc jesus#gotham war had some good brujay content but i am still too bitter to discuss that shitshow. so. ignoring it for now.#bruce changing jason's brain chemistry as an act of love is the most FUCKED UP brujay thing ever tho#it's so Them.#sorry that is just peak brujay. they are incapable of meeting in any middle and always trying to change each other.#maybe this meta should've been about that.#but then i'd have to use new-52 and rebirth panels so eh. nvmd.#this page makes it seem like i hate post-flashpoint comics. i don't i swear#they just interest me less for batcest.#like oh yay everyone's getting along and working together.#it only came at the expense of throwing away decades of character work. small sacrifice.#i need to stop posting meta at fucking 5 am.#no one is going to see this bc i can't be a normal person.#wrote this while watching invincible#which is pretty good so far but man the ending of ep1 clocked me. i was absolutely bamboozled.#i had something else i was going to say in the tags but i lost it.#anyway most of this is a ship post and projecting shit as per usual and yk. not serious comic media.#i'm just silly and gay.
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earlgodwin · 2 months
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alright i've gotta say that i'm genuinely so obsessed with people feeling collective panic and threatened by the idea of juan being in love with lucrezia (mind you, it's just one-sided) even when everything about his arc on the show makes it very clear. and it always happens every time i post about lucrezia/juan lmao
anyway for instance, juan choosing a wife that resembles her, his aggressive overprotectiveness towards her, how furious he was over paolo because, unlike cesare who knew who paolo was to lucrezia, juan never knew he was lucrezia's solace but instead saw him as someone trying to have his way with his sister and cause her a scandal, (newsflash: one of juan's character aspects is that he's the black sheep of the family and always being excluded from everything), and he thought he genuinely did something to protect her honor. and how her attempt to kill him to avenge paolo broke him entirely in different ways (in the sense that he realized he hurt her and that she hates him for killing paolo), yet he tried to reconcile with her because he doesn't want to lose her affection and respect, and after being rejected again by someone he loves deeply made him lose his mind which caused him to hurt her back.
seeing people downplay his feelings and affection towards her simply because they can't stand his character and don't even want to understand him while desperately wanting cesare to be the pinnacle of almost everything just screams of copium and an inferiority complex and this only gives in to how interesting and compelling juan's character and his potential is when they could've simply just enjoy how tragic these three siblings are and how juan being trapped in a position to protect the family with massive expectations set him in opposition of his siblings and his ways of not knowing how to react caused them all to misunderstand each other and made them forever disconnected.
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theoldworldsrunnerup · 5 months
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This was supposed to just be a sketch but I got a little carried away
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