#tw shelf harm discussion

[thatsallotadamage]

who ate the bloodball? im not on 988twt or 988blr anymore (clean asf) but i remember seeing that thing, i have it screenshotted on my phone. Just the picture of the bite out of it. was that on twitter or tumblr? didnt the person who chomped it get really sick from it?

[wr3nsinthewoods]

very hard day but still kicked ass

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: TW - DRV3 Boys Stop You from Committing Suicide (good endings)

DRV3 SPOILERS INCLUDED IN SOME SECTIONS and unlike the SDR2 version, all sections take place in the killing game/game world and none are in a non-despair AU, though death order/order that the academy floors and new areas are unlocked may be messed with a little.

Word Count: 10K Words

TRIGGER Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE THESE TYPES OF SCENARIOS. All sections are angst or depressing but end with the character comforting the reader or saving them and the reader’s plan isn’t successful. Self-harm and plans of suicide are discussed and detailed. Themes like cutting, knives, jumping from high places, poison, poor mental health, and more are included. PLEASE KEEP IN MIND DANGANRONPA IS RATED M for 17+ and canonically includes themes of murder and suicide. You are responsible for the media you consume. Keep reading below with these warnings in mind if you so choose.

Kaito Momota:

Kaito wouldn’t normally name patrolling the academy’s grounds and halls late at night as one of his favorite activities, but ever since Ryoma was killed… he felt the need to. You and Shuichi were his sidekicks of course, but a real man needed to give his sidekicks something to look up to, aspire to. He was, of course, avoiding restricted and forbidden nighttime areas, but nonetheless he diligently strutted about, ears and eyes open and ready to catch any questionable behavior.

Ryoma’s trial hit Kaito harder than he was willing to admit. With how much respect and internal admiration he held for the sports prodigy, to see him not only fall so far from grace by giving up on life (the complete opposite of Kaito’s mantra, values and minset), but to see him taken out in such a cruel and humiliating way realy shook Kaito. He kept up the facade of confident, unbothered and brave man, but his closer, more observant friends could tell the whole thing was bothering him. After Kaede, who meant so much to his best friend Shuichi and was an ambitious, positive force for good, and now Ryoma who he’d looked up to, he’d put his foot down: a real man protected his friends. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt, kill, or even take advantage of his friends ever again. He’d decided this after defending his faith in Maki during the second class trial, after consoling Shuichi and yourself, both grieving. It was time to really step it up, even if patrolling at night meant putting himself in danger. A fire had been lit beneath him, and besides, he would be out of the dorms to train and exercise with Shuichi most nights anyway, so might as well do some good for his fellow students while he was out.

While passing by the academy’s pool building, he froze when he heard movement inside, a quiet sort of shuffling and a muffled voice. A shudder - something linked to flashbacks from Ryoma’s horrendous trial mere nights before - ran up his spine and he quickly but quietly moved over to the entrance door, peaking inside to spy on whoever was inside. Why or how anyone could stand going anywhere near the pool after what happened was a mystery to him, so whatever they were doing in there had to be suspicious at best. He was going to find out, and perhaps stop another future blackened in the process.

When he sees you standing on the edge of the pool facing away from him, shoulders slumped and shaking up and down a bit, he slips through the crack in the door and hides behind a huge shelf full of pool supplies nearby silently. From there he merely observed. You of all people, who like Shuichi, was so deeply moved by the graphic execution of Kirumi and the tossing away of Ryoma’s bones like trash, would have more reason that others to stay away from the pool. His mind jumped instantly to the worst-case scenario on instinct: another plot for murder using the pool or gym, but he quickly shook these thoughts off. You were his good friend and he trusted you. Shuichi and even Maki seemed to trust you. You’d never hurt anyone. So why were you here?

Kaito knew just from spending time with you that you could often be melancholy, solitary,  locked up in your room for most hours of the day if not with your small group of select friends. You’d been terrified of just living your life since the very start, what with not having your memories then being suddenly thrown into a killing game. Every death, every unfortunate event, every class trial seemed to erode away at you more and more. He often tried to cheer you up, making apparent your potential and skills, trying to force you to see the positives, giving pep talks, pulling you out of your dorm to socialize, but nothing seemed to stick. You always ended up back at square one mentally, just as upset and closed off as the day before. Less and less progress was made each day, too.

As he pondered the sight before him and observed you, you didn’t seem to be preparing any traps, setting up any schemes, no thought-out plots like Kirumi had done days before. You just… stood there, now facing the pool and looking over the edge. Now he knew why your shoulders were shaking. You were crying. Honestly, he’d seen you cry many times in the last few weeks so he wasn't stirred into action just yet, but as you seemed to sway a little too far forward over the edge of the pool, rocking back and forth on your feet, his concern grew. Entering the pool building was allowed at night, but actually jumping in, touching the water after dark was strictly forbidden. It was punishable by death, and that death would be as agonizing and drawn out as Monokuma chose to make it that day. You were all at his mercy at all times. You knew that, everyone did, and now here you were, dangerously teetering over the water’s edge. How easy it would be for you to just, stumble in, slip and fall…

At this point, Kaito was desperately hoping you were crying because you did in fact have a murder plot guilting your conscience or because you were simply still in mourning over Ryoma and Kirumi. Those two scenarios would be easy to talk you out of, to be there for you like always. He would have plenty of time if that were the case. He was perhaps… a bit overconfident in his abilities. He didn’t even want to consider the third option mulling around in his mind… that on was more… uncomfortable, immediate.

“I’m sorry, mom and dad, wherever you are…” You finally spoke, turning his focus back on you and out of his own head. “I’m sorry Shuichi, Maki, Kaito… I j-just,” you cried, “I can’t do this anymore.”

You took a deep breath, and what would happen next if he didn’t stop you flashed before his eyes: Exisals, tearing you apart, crushing you, the blood, the screams as they appeared and tore you from the pool, the academy-wide blaring alarms, your classmates leaving their beds half-awake and rushing to the pool to discover the gruesome scene.

You leaned forward, tipped off your balance, center of gravity shifted, and he lunged, yelling out your name as he left his position hidden in the corner and bolted with the gift of an adrenaline rush boosting his steps. He grabbed you around the waist, tackling you and throwing you back and away from the pool, and you both crashed onto the hard tile behind you. Before you could process what was happening you found yourself on the ground, Kaito spooning your body and panting heavily into your ear. Where had he even come from?

“Are you nuts?!” Kaito yelled through ragged breaths. The man was quite athletic, out of breath from anxiety and shock, not physical strain. Wrenched back to reality, you were suddenly overcome with a wave of intense embarrassment. No one was supposed to witness your moment of extreme weakness like this, especially not someone you cared about and respected.

“Kaito?! I-”

“I knew you were doing pretty shitty, but I didn’t know it was this bad! Why wouldn’t you come to me, to Shuichi or… somebody? We would’ve talked you out of this stupid idea!” His vice-like grip around your waist was unwavering, as if he couldn’t trust you to govern yourself at present, as if you would leap again if he relented.

“I’m sorry… it was… I wasn’t thinking. It was a last second plan, an impulse. I just… it hurts so bad, I let my thoughts take over.” He could hear the tears returning to your voice, shaking your words and softened his own. He could be passionate, overbearing at times even, but that probably wasn’t what you needed right now. He could be very stubborn, reluctant to change his methods and habits, but this was serious. He grunted in frsutration.

“You saw what happened to Ryoma when he gave in… when he gave up on life.” His knuckles tightened, fists tightening into themselves until they turned white. “Are you gonna let that happen to you too, my deputy sidekick?” The pain you gleaned from behind his words only made you sob harder. You felt like you’d let him down, almost caused him to grieve for you like you’d all been grieving for the four you’d already lost. How could you add to your peers’ emotion burden like that? “Hey… geez, come on Y/N… I know we can work through this. Let us help you… let me help. There’s no wound out there that the support of the people that care about you can’t heal!”

Ryoma Hoshi:

You’d been feeling endlessly hopeless lately. The violent nightmares weren’t helping, nor was the attitude of your best friend, Ryoma. A noxious void was swallowing up your will to live piece by piece with each day that passed in this hellhole of an academy, trapped in this killing game. It seemed that your friend was right there with you, and although you couldn’t blame him, knowing he was prone to solemn solidarity already as core part of his personality, his moods only seemed to worsen your own. They bounced off of each other, multiplied when you were together, but he was the only person you cared about or trusted in this prison, so the vicious cycle continued. Any time you were together these days, you were bogged down in an echo chamber of despair. There was a brief period where Ryoma appeared to have a small fire ignited in his heart, a period where he was willing to give life a real honest try, but now the gloom was back in full force ever since those damned motive video Monopads had been introduced into your lives. A few days had passed in a big tizzy about who’s Monopad was where, who watched theirs and most were mixed and matched, sent out to the wrong student, but for some reason… you felt like Ryoma had viewed his own, and he did not like what he had seen. It was almost worse seeing your friend long for death then feeling it inside for yourself. You’d started keeping to yourself to avoid seeing it, selfish as that may be.

On one particularly dismal mental health day, you were in his research lab while he was away, trying to get your mind off of dark thoughts, maybe play tennis with the wall. Bouncing the ball off and hitting with a racket as hard as you could could be therapeutic. Maybe that was how Ryoma blew off steam at times. Miu Iruma was there in the lab with you, paying you no mind, obsessed with the sporting machines and how they functioned. Miu loved tinkering ceaselessly with any electronics and gadgets she could find, both inside her own research lab and around the academy. She rarely asked permission to enter other’s labs to do so. She wanted to know how everything worked and it brought her great joy. Your ominous desires taking over, you began to question her. Interestingly, one of the only times she wasn’t a totally vulgar, aggressive bitch was when she was engrossed in her work. She would still snap here and there and slip in inappropriate jokes, but she was much more sufferable. She loved when others asked her to explain something, any chance she got to flaunt her vast wealth of knowledge. She described some of the basic functions of the ball-launching machines: how to change the velocity, the maximum amount of tennis balls one could pelt in a certain timeframe, how to change its direction, how to use the auto-timer or stop all movement with the press of a button. She didn’t even question why you cared, as long as she got to look like the smartest person in the room. Good, you thought. You didn’t want anyone suspecting a thing when you came later to hopefully put an end to your participation in this killing game for good. You didn’t care what was on your motive video at this point. You didn’t even have the energy to find out who had it. You just wanted… out.

~

Later that night, with your mind in a stupor, body nearly on autopilot, you returned to the research lab, now empty save for yourself, to put the tennis machines on autopilot themselves. Unsurprisingly for a bear as evil and twisted as Monokuma, he’d set up the lab equipment to be able to work at extremely dangerous speeds, speeds powerful and torrential enough to maim or even kill someone. Miu had looked both fascinated and horrified upon discovering this earlier. You used this setting to your advantage, placing a timer and setting the machine to its maximum velocity. You’d loaded up the tennis balls, tons of them, and angled multiple machines to target one specific corner of the room. This would work. Anything to feel something, or die trying. Hopefully all of it, all the pain, would all end tonight.

You stepped back, machines prepped to boundlessly and without hesitation do their dark work. You stood in the corner, counting down in your head, ready for what you’d unleashed on yourself. The machines booted up, beginning to whir with the effort of getting to the input speed. You closed your eyes and prepared for an impact that would never come.

Like a flash, a blur of motion so fast it was near unseeable, Ryoma appeared before you, racket in hand, and knocked the incoming balls away from you with ease. One after the other, with inhuman speed he reflected them back toward the machines with the amount of skill and prowess that earned him the title of the Ultimate Tennis Pro in the first place. It was extraordinary. You were sure only he could manage such a feat. You gasp, opening your eyes at the noise in front of you and startled by the sight. With a grunt of effort, he grabs you with his free hand and throws you with all of his strength out of the corner. He ducks, jumping out of the way and onto the ground beside you. The machines continued to pelt the now empty corner of the room faithfully, just as commanded, the booming repetitive sound echoing off the walls of the research lab.

Eventually, minutes later, all sound ceased as the machines ran out of ammunition and therefore shut themselves off. You both lay splayed across the cold floor, silent as the grave. This was so delicate of a situation now, so severe and tense. What was there to say? How did one begin? Only your inhales and exhales filled the dim room, dozens of yellow fuzzy tennis balls scattered around your still forms. Finally, you spoke:

“Where did you come from?” You whispered, heart thumping wildly in your chest. He sighed in reply.

“It’s late, I always come to my lab around this hour, for some alone time… I came just in time to catch you doing something stupid, it seems…” Silence filled the room once again as you both just sat there soaking in his words, and you valued it, time spent with your best friend where you weren’t absorbing each other’s hopelessness and amplifying it. There was a different mood in the air now, an aura of understanding, of caring about what happens to the person next to you for the first time in weeks, even if it was mixed with guilt and embarassment.

“I’m sorry,” he finally spoke up again when you refused to, “I guess I haven’t given you much to look up to as of late…” He rolled over, facing away from you, staring into the wall in shame. “I’ll set a better example, try harder… if only for your sake.” The deep rumble of his bassy voice filled the room.

His motive video stated quite plainly that there was no one in his life to live for, no one to care about or who cared about him in turn.  When he saw you in front of those death machines your life in peril, he knew that was a lie.

Korekiyo Shinguuji:

Below you were nearly eight floors of priceless, dusty artifacts, research and excavation tools, bones, books. Around you were alcoves and shelves, display cases and crates full of history and knowledge. Korekiyo’s research lab was much like himself: complex, dark and mysterious, vertically blessed and intimidating. It was like when people drew an object as a personified character using the object’s traits; his lab looked like an architect stalked Kiyo for months and modeled a room after the man. Monokuma was many things, but inattentive was not one of them, even if he feigned ignorance at times. This lab, perhaps even more than the others (which were still detailed and impressive in their own right) molded so seamlessly into the character and talents of its owner. Even the color scheme of the room matched his uniform, and the atmosphere matched his energy. The room smelled like an ancient library, a museum. It smelled how Kiyo looked.

You peered down at the eight story drop below you, the many stairs before you daunting and suffocating even in the spacious research lab. It was the largest lab by far, and the fall to the bottom would most likely kill you. Just in case, you’d taken the oppurtunity to place a large pile of whatever sharp and more dangerous items you could find in the lab at the bottom, compiling a makeshift deathtrap to ensure this went as planned. There was a katana, carving tools, ritual knives, tribal spears, needles and more.

You were acutely aware of your own breathing, especially in a echoey, dusty chamber like this. It was quiet and menacing, again like its host, who conveniently was not here at present. You’d chosen a time when Korekiyo seemed to be out and slinking about the academy, unsettling the other students no doubt or lecturing them about human history and traditions. It was a lucky last minute plan. Fate must want this, you thought. This must be the right thing to do… Kiyo had barely left this place since it’d opened, too enraptured by its contents to leave, so for him to not be here at this perfect time for your plan to commence, it must have been a work of fate. Your head felt light, like your body was trying to relax and numb itself, to accept what you were about to do. You closed your eyes, swaying calmly back and forth over the railing.

Suddenly, there was a firm hand on your shoulder. Your eyes flashed open, your blood running cold in your veins. Korekiyo, perhaps Kokichi… it had to be one of those two. You couldn’t think of one other classmate, not one, who could or would sneak in the shadows and reappear unseen and unheard but those two. They were both creeps in their own unique ways. Slowly, you turned to see the face behind the hand, and found it half-covered by a dark mask.

“Kiyo…” You acknowledge him with a nod, as if you weren’t up to something dubious… in his lab… without his permission. You looked into his glowing yellow eyes and found sadness in them, extremely expressive. They often were, they had to be when his jaw, his mouth could never convey his feelings to his peers. Kiyo couldn’t flare his nostrils, clench his teeth to signal to others. Maybe that was part of the mystery, part of what scared others about him. Humans often needed emotions, facial cues, body language to communicate, to feel safe and understood in each other’s presence. WIth Kiyo, much could be left up to interpretation.

“It seems some of my artifacts have been misplaced…” He mused, the bandaged hand on your shoulder moving off to cradle his own chin, as if he were puzzled about the situation. “Hmmm… were you perhaps studying some of them and left that mess down there?” He nodded in the direction of the pile, arms crossing over his chest like the disapproving mother of a child who forgot to clean their room.

“I’m really sorry, Kiyo…” You turned your head back to stare forward blankly at the wall across from you, unable to meet his eyes any longer. You felt embarrassed, ashamed that you’d not only been caught pre-attempt, but that you’d made a mess of items you knew the anthropologist held so dear.

“It’s quite alright. I sometimes get lost in my work and studies, too, even forgetting to sleep some nights. The contents of this lab can lead to endless hours of fun, yes? I know you meant no harm by it, unlike some more mischevious classmates of ours.” He giggled gaily beneath the mask. “Speaking of sleep, it's quite late. I know the quest for knowledge is endless, but you must be exhausted.” He of course knew what you were really planning to do here tonight. He was a highly intelligent young man, and someone would have to be blind to not pick up on your intentions. However, he had no desire to embarrass you further, and frankly wanted this all to end as soon as possible, so this little scenario would be swept under the rug in favor of a story less dismal.

“Y-yeah…” You nod, playing along, expressionless and empty inside.

If it were anyone else, he probably would’ve torn them apart for touching his artifacts without his permission, much less mishandling them and leaving them in a cluttery heap on the floor. Perhaps it was the small friendship you’d gradually formed with him that spared you from this fate. You were always curious about his interests and talent, willing to learn, to listen to him talk for hours. You weren’t judgmental like some, talking about him behind his back, cutting him off mid-explanation because you were bored, obviously creeped out by his presence. Yes, he would let his offense go, if only to justify the belief that you deserved a more beautiful, dignified death later on. This wouldn’t do at all, falling pathetically to your death, not for someone like you. You at least deserved more than that he supposed, and yet, your blood decorating his artifacts, your body splayed out in a contorted position over them… that could’ve been beautiful in its own way, too. He hadn’t decided fully yet…

Taking your hand in his long slender, the scholar began to guide you, dragging your rather heavy feet behind him down the crimson stairs. You passed floor by floor until he guided you to the base level, and you let him. Again, fate must have wanted this, to stop you in time, to allow Korekiyo to interfere.

Kokichi Ouma:

You didn’t want to be here, tucked under a metal shelf in the Exisal hangar, cramped and uncomfortable for what felt like hours but yet here you were, waiting for Kokichi to come “seek” your “hide” in this stupid, childish game he loved to play. The academy was the perfect setting for an epic game of hide-and-seek you’d admit, with countless areas to hide and not be found for days, but you were in no mood for playing. You’d been rapidly declining, pushed further and further into the recesses of your own depressed mind with each passing day. You just wanted to lay in your dorm room and cry, sulk, sleep. Kokichi knew that, and yet he loved to drag you out and about for his pointless antics or little trickster schemes on the daily. Even now, as he became more and more unhinged after each class trial, he still involved you in his malicious and sometimes even dangerous plans. You tolerated his immature, hyper, selfish, sporadic, volatile personality - which was insufferable to most - because he was your best if not only friend on campus. Even if the others would say they liked you, no one really hung out with you or paid you any mind, never wanted to know you on any level deeper than acquaintances who made polite conversation during free time or cooperated during class trials. You didn’t consider them friends. You considered Kokichi a close friend. You really didn’t know why he was even interested in you in the first place. You found yourself introverted, boring and awkward, but nonetheless you accepted and even secretly cherished his attention and friendship. He was probably just using you for a long con, a means to an end, but still…

No… today you’d had enough, getting angrier and angrier by the second squashed into that little area under the shelf, your spine aching. Being here alone in the silence, it only left you to your dreary thoughts, gave you the opportunity to dwell on the past three class trials, the death and despair that seemed in constant supply here. You decided you could do that in the comfort of your own bed, warm under the duvet in your dorm room and not contorted into a pretzel on the dirty floor. Screw this, your mind spoke to you, making the decision at once. You huffed, standing and brushing off your uniform. You were fed up, tired of waiting on a kid who clearly didn’t care about you. You felt like you were in denial, seeing your connection with Kokichi as “friendship” when he probably was just using you as a toy because no one else would let him use them. You didn’t feel like a priority to him. He was probably bored and had given up on looking for you, again, prone to changes of his mood and plans on a whim. He was really good at seeking, he was good at most things he enjoyed… surely it wasn’t taking this long. He must have abandoned you.

This was the last straw… even your only friend didn’t think you were worth his time, even when you’d clearly been going through some shit mentally. Kokichi was smarter than people gave him credit for. He knew you were in agony inside, and still he’d done this to you?

Before you could make your way back to your room, something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. A hydraulic press, no doubt used to compress and scrap broken-down and useless Exisals, seemed to glimmer and shine over on the other side of the room. It seemed to be calling to you, begging to be used, honored to be your release from this world. Sighing with the weight of months of desolation on your shoulders, your body seemed to go into some sort of autonomous mode. You were like a zombie, feeling nothing anymore as you made your way over to the control panel up on a platform next to the press. You passed by dirty shelves, oil and paint cans, tons of lined up inactive Exisals on the way there, stepping up the small incline to the panel and looking over it without hesitation or self preservation in mind.

Quickly, you scan the buttons, knobs and latches until you find the safety features. Without a second thought you switched off all automatic safety settings available to you. For good measure you pulled out the thick wires corresponding to the safety features on the control panel. Now, you would be able to manually send the press into closing all the way down, firmly and snugly. The press was designed to cease all movement automatically if it sensed a living being inside, but now, it would keep going regardless unless manually turned off. You flipped a switch and the machine roared to life, slowly beginning its long, crushing descent. You promptly moved the short distance over to the long, flat press and let your back lay flat against the cold, unfeeling metal.

You thought you’d be scared, but you felt nothing still. It felt like laying in your bed like always, mind empty, heart heavy. It was just another night. You thought you’d lose your conviction, chicken out; that’s what a normal person would do. Fear of death was normal. Your lack of emotion just proved even further that this was the best option for you, in your mind at least. You zoned out, pushing out all surrounding smells, sounds, and sights. There was only you and the silver slab above you. You were at peace, or at least your body didn’t protest or work to save itself. Folding your hands over your chest, you closed your eyes and resigned yourself to your fate as the press drew closer to your face.

Your ears perk up when you hear a sudden clicking sound so close by that it breaks through your barrier of dissociation. Your eyes flash open, a bit perturbed at the cease of motion above you. You were positive you turned off the setting correctly, and yet the press was unmoving.

Before you have time to even process the interruption, your left arm is being snatched by the elbow, and not too gently either. A claw-like, unforgiving grip around your arm pulls you sideways off of the press and you groan when your ass hits the solid ground below. You look at your assailant, surprised that someone his size could be that strong. Much like his true intentions or level of intelligence, it might have just been another thing he’s hidden from the world.

“Kokichi?” The petite boy sunk down on the ground next to you like his knees had given out, bawling his eyes out. You look at him in surprise, not having even heard him enter the hangar. By all means you should’ve, with the loud metal door that groans and hisses when it opens. You must’ve been really out of it.

“Yeah… of course it’s me, idiot!” He spat, showing you no mercy. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! This is not how you play hide-and-seek!” He was absolutely furious, face red as a tomato as he yelled in your face.

You’re both limp piles of flesh on the ground, emotional and collapsing into yourselves for different reasons. Kokichi leapt forward, throwing his arms around your shoulders and crumbling into you, his body molding into yours. His weight crashing into you nearly toppled you over, and he clung to you, snotty and sobbing like a little kid. His fingers dug into your back like nails, clutching to you like his life depended on it. You were speechless. You’d never seen such real, raw emotion from Kokichi. He loved to lie, to put on a performance and was good at fake crying, but you could tell this was real. He’d never reacted to the loss of any of your classmates like this. He continued to berate you, showing his fear of losing you in his own… unique way.

I guess he really did care after all.

Rantarou Amami: 

Rantarou often took strolls around the academy grounds at night to clear his head. The air was crisp and refreshing, there were interesting things to see, and if he truly got bored of just walking and looking, he could always hit up the casino for some late-night fun to pass the time. Mostly though, he just needed the quiet time alone to think, to process his thoughts from that day and plan the next.

Passing the dorms and heading toward the entrance to the main building of the academy, he shuffled to a standstill when his eyes caught sight of something strange. Up high on the rooftop, he spotted something that was definitely out of place, not there on his usual nightly walk. He could barely make out the shape of a human form, standing up there all alone. He squinted, trying to focus in on it. The grounds were pretty well lit, but nobody was ever up on the roof to his knowledge, so it made sense that not many lights were installed way up there. Yep, it was definitely a person: not big or wide enough to be an Exisal or small enough to be a bear. Curious almost to a fault, Rantarou decided immediately to check it out. It took a lot of figuring out which stairwell led where, which floor of the academy was blocked off and so on to find the door to the roof. Really, there wasn’t much up there, it was just a flat, levelled surface so there was no appeal, no need for the students to use it. Well… in this killing game, there were probably plenty of uses for the dangerously high-up, rarely visited, unrailed rooftop, but none of them were good.

When he closes the door behind him and sees, now up close, that the human form that was visible from the ground is you, standing on the edge of the roof, he sighs. He was really hoping on his trek up here that it wasn’t going to be you. Unfortunately, his gut said it would be, and that made him rush up to the roof all the quicker. Anyone else might have genuinely been up there for fresh air or the view, but Rantarou knew you… he knew you’d been going a rough time, the whole group knew it. Some of your fellow prisoners at the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles made fun of you for being so mopey all the time, calling you emo or a buzzkill. Kokichi teased that you and Shuichi would be a perfect match, that you could “be little bitches together,” crying all day, wearing all black and so on. He was ruthless.

Rantarou knew why you were up there, what could happen to you that night if he didn’t intervene. Preparing himself mentally, he gently approached you, slowly and cautiously as to not spook you off of the ledge.

“H-hey? Um, what’s up Y/N?” The air up there was extra chilly, and that mixed with the apprehension about how the next few moments would go had him throwing his hands into his pockets, immensely uncomfortable. Knowing you were no longer alone, you stepped back from the ledge, wrapping your arms around your middle as you turned to face him. He didn’t miss it when your expression went from a dead-inside indifference to anxious surprise when you saw him.

“Rantarou? Hey…” you spoke unenthusiastically, clearly intending to spend what may have been your last night on Earth alone.

“Stargazing, huh?” He laughed nervously, trying to play off the severity of the potentially dire situation. The goal was to descalate your suicidal thoughts if you indeed had any as he suspected, to let you know you weren’t alone, physically or emotionally. “If so, there are way better places on campus to do it!”

“Oh… yeah,” you replied with a forced, pathetic little laugh. You stepped closer toward him. It seemed like you were already losing conviction in your choice to jump. Good. Those second thoughts were good. Doubts were good. You obviously weren’t too far gone, or you probably would’ve jumped regardless of him watching - not caring, not regretting, not feeling anything.

“Can I chill up here with you? Walkin’ around all alone at night’s gettin’ kinda boring. I mean, I’ve seen everything on campus a million times. It would be a nice change of routine.” He smiled hopefully, pressuring you into accepting. You nod in response and the two of you sat and “stargazed” for a long while, eventually shifting to lay down on the hard, dirty concrete of the rooftop and stare up into the sky.

“You can’t… really see much…” you grumbled after a long silence.

“Hmmm? Oh yeah, the campus is pretty well lit so not many stars are gonna show. It sucks, but I kinda like just laying here. It’s nice: the silence, doing nothing. Our days are pretty stressful, you know?” Oh, you knew. The stress of the killing game, wondering if you were going to die that day, trying to figure out mystery after puzzle, trying to recall memories… it was what sent you into this spiral in the first place.

You let Rantarou carry the conversation from there. He attempted to enthuse you with tales of his travels, trying to make life sound adventurous, the world worth living for. Some of it did in fact entertain you, catching your attention, but mainly what shook you was Rantarou opening up to you freely when he was known by the group to be pleasant but quite secretive about his past, even unintentionally. You’d all lost some of your memories, but he was even more of a mystery than others. You couldn’t help but feel a bit moved, a bit warmed by the fact that he wanted to reveal more of himself to you. He spoke for a long while, telling long stories of his past for the next hour or so before letting the interaction fade into a more comfortable silence. Eventually though, he knew he would have to acknowledge it, to get to the hard part.

“Hey… uh… I just wanna let you know that I’ve been there before… some really rough shit in life, you know?” He turned his head to look directly at you, no longer caring about the stars sprinkled sparsely above. “Don’t do it… It’s never gonna be worth it.” 

Gonta Gokuhara:

“Y/N??? What happen?!” Gonta was kneeling in front of you, a nervous wreck.

This was not how this was supposed to go. How did he… of all people find you??? How could anyone?

You were tucked away in a dark hallway, a few floors up in an area of the academy hardly anyone used. This section was decorated in cobwebs, loose boards, unfinished paint. This floor unlocked because there were some research labs up here, but this in particular was a wing that was a far walk to the other side of the floor and this area was mostly untouched, or rather, abandoned. Monokuma and the Kubs obviously didn’t plan to do anything with it and had even blocked it off lazily with some loose tape. The bears were never seen here, and you thought the first time you broke past the tape that an Exisal or five would show up to crush you for breaking some rule, but when nothing happened, you decided to make this your own little spot for when you just needed a break from it all. This world, the academy, the killing game, it all became far too much very quickly.

This hallway had a high archway and a large round window looking out. There was a beautiful view of the moon from this dramatic looking window, and you wanted it to be your last view. Here in your secret place, you thought, even if someone did discover you in the morning or days from now, you’d be long gone. This was a good spot, but what was happening now was not part of the plan… Here you were, blood trickling and a sharp razor to your arm about to cut deep once again when the large man came stomping through the normally silent hallway seemingly on a mission.

You were pulled back into the moment: Gonta was yelling and you were shushing him, a bit light headed and a super panicked. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be just you, alone and done. Not someone like him… he didn’t deserve to see this. Now this was selfish. Now… you couldn’t finish the job.

You didn’t want to hurt him like this. All he ever wanted to do was help others. Gonta was too good, too pure of heart, too selfless. You didn’t want him to deal with this or to think for even a second that he had any fault in it. God forbid he was too late to stop it and you bled out anyway. He would blame himself forever. You didn’t want to expose him to this. You tried to distract him, which in normal daily conversation proved easy to do.

“Gonta, what are you doing here?” You tossed the razor to the ground and tried to hold your arm somewhat back and out of his direct line of sight, but he kept looking at it regardless, clearly focused on one thing at the moment.

“W-well, normally Gonta go to his lab at this time every night, check on bugs between sleeping, make sure they’re safe! But… tonight, Kokichi stop Gonta outside Gonta’s lab and say our friend Y/N is in trouble! Gonta had to come right away to help!” Kokichi… that little shit! How did he even know? He seemed to know everything that happened around campus, like he was always lurking about in the shadows. He knew everyone’s secrets, was up in everyone’s business like it was his job. You hadn’t even seen him anywhere near you tonight… Was he truly that far ahead of everyone else? Why would he do this to Gonta, though? You wouldn’t even pretend to know how his twisted little mind worked.

“Oh, well I’m fine, Gonta, honestly…” You pulled down your uniform sleeve, hoping that covering the open wounds would lessen the seriousness of the moment.

“Y/N not fine! Let Gonta help!” Sputtering and an anxious mess, Gonta, who assumed this was all a big misunderstanding, an accident, insisted you follow him to his lab, or he’d even carry you if it hurt too much or you felt too weak. You knew he wasn’t going to simply let this go and walk away, so you sighed and conceded, allowing him to guide you all the way to his bug-filled research lab before he could escalate this to an even louder ruckus that possibly drew others to the scene.

He happily explained that he had some basic first aid and medical supplies in there, that Monokuma adapted a side area to be kind of like the environment Gonta grew up in but in his own… less sophisticated way of speaking. He also had some more advanced first aid tools that he’d collected and stored from the warehouse on the first floor just in case his bugs friends or human friends needed his help (bless his heart). He knew of basic bandaging and wound-cleaning methods from his time growing up in the wilderness. It was survival of the fittest out there.

He dutifully got your arm all fixed up and padded the wound so even if your arm bumped into something lightly while you slept that night, you wouldn’t feel it. He joyfully talked your ear off, never aware of the true intent behind your actions that night. He was simply happy to help, to save his friend at any cost.

Shuichi Saihara:

When you awoke, you found yourself staring at the ceiling of your dorm room, mind groggy and eyes bleary. A pounding headache greeted you along with a tightness in your lungs. A feeling of pins and needles spread through your extremities as you slowly sat up. You were in your bed… Did it not work? Huh? The light above stung your eyes and as you looked around, you finally noticed Shuichi by your bedside. His eyes were red and puffy underneath, like he’d been crying recently.

“Shuichi? Is this real? Why am I-” you began, throat hoarse and raw.

“Alive? I found you on the floor of my research lab… the bottle was nearby.” He looked disappointed, disheartened, exhausted. “I forced the antidote down your throat… anything to get it into your system. Maki helped me carry you here. She’ll be back with food eventually, we were planning on taking shifts…” You started to stutter, to try and make excuses or apologies but he cut you off, nerves obviously fried: “If you knew it was getting this bad, if you felt like this was your only option, you should’ve talked to me, or Maki… or anybody for that matter, anything to prevent this!” His words were breathy, voice giving out as he was starting to get choked up again. He sighed, breath catching in his throat and he held his head in his hands. “Or maybe… we should’ve noticed…” He spoke barely above a whisper, sniffling. A shockwave of guilt and pain shot through your body. You couldn’t let him think that.

“No, Shuichi, this isn’t your fault! This isn’t on anyone but me!” You couldn’t deal with the knowledge that he was feeling in any way guilty about this.

“Poisoning yourself? Do you know how slow that would’ve been, how painful? Did you even read the label on the specific posion you chose? You would’ve gone in and out of consciousness most likely, each time waking up in more pain that the last until your body finally gave out. Monokuma designed this stuff, its tortuous and cruel, Y/N.” You’d rarely heard his voice take on this deep, angry tone. “You would’ve felt your body shutting down, paralyzed and powerless to stop the pain. Can you imagine if I hadn’t found you passed out initially and shoved that antidote down your throat? I bet you’re still feeling some side effects regardless.” He shook his head, unable to meet your gaze with his next words. “... Why would you do this to me…? To see my best friend suffer like that!” The tears, hot and angry began to pour freely from the corners of his eyes, his words spat through clenched teeth. He was trying to even out his breaths, fists balled at this side in the chair beside your bed. Seeing your brows furrow in guilt, the emotional pain twisted into your expression when you were already in physical pain, he tried desperately to reel himself in. “I’m sorry. I shoudn’t be angry at you, it’s selfish of me. I just…” He sighed deeply, steadying his breathing.

No, he was right… he’d lost Kaede, you’d all just lost Kaito - the main event that finally pushed you over an edge you’d already been teetering on. You’d almost caused him more irreversible pain. Everyone else who died crushed his spirit of course, but you, Kaito, Kaede, Maki, you guys were so very dear to him. Losing any of you chipped away at his heart and soul, and he didn’t have many pieces left. There was barely enough Shuichi left to keep going. Each trial drained him like an old machine running out of steam. You cared about him, cherished him immeasurably, and yet you almost contributed directly to the destruction and despair the killing game had wrought inside his heart already.

“For some reason, Monokuma said suicide is a viable death for a class trial if the antidote didn’t take. Said he’s seen suicide work before for a trial,” he spoke again to fill the unpleasant void in the air. “It seemed like he really didn’t want me to administer it to you, but I told him since I literally saw it happen, a trial would be boring. A quick trial would be no fun for him, so he seemed to be mulling it over. You know he’s all about entertaining himself… so sick. I was praying, just hoping the antidote worked. I couldn’t have done it, your trial…” Maki interupted his monologuing, entering with a tray of food and water. 

“Y/N,” Maki nodded her acknowledgment, showing she cared in her own reserved way. He turned to greet her solemnly, then back to you. “Whatever you need to talk about, I’m here, we are here. Please don’t do anything like this ever again.”

K1B0/Kiibo:

You loved Kiibo and really treasured his friendship, but sometimes he just didn’t seem to get more complex or abstract human concepts. Even something like depression, which wasn’t all that complex on the surface level, seemed to make him uncomfortable and revert into a very robotic state of thinking. Kiibo understood sadness of course, even feeling what he described as sadness on multiple occasions, but the deep, irrational, incurable thing that true depression could sometimes be seemed to be less reachable to him. When you vented or explained the concept, he tried to understand and you two were so close that you went to him before anyone else. You trusted him wholly and bonded after many months spent with him. You could see his gears turning (not literally) when he was trying really hard to understand a new idea or emotion, but sometimes you just wanted to vent and be heard while he wanted to offer practical solutions. He’d search his memory banks for psychological reports, comb the internet looking for the smartest answer, the facts, but the human side he wasn’t seeming to get was that the facts weren’t always what someone wanted or needed when they were feeling down. There was barely any warmth from his “comfort,” even when he tried extremely hard. Deep, excruciating depression seemed to be something he just wasn’t programmed to deal with. Maybe his creator thought he’d never encounter it, or you all got locked up in the academy before it could be added to his knowledge bank. You knew Kiibo could learn and adapt even without previous programming, but sometimes it was hard for him. It felt like asking Google how to solve a depressive episode or a panic attack instead of a friend who should know you and your heart.

On one particular evening, Kiibo found himself searching around the academy for you. You were usually on time to meet up with him, and you’d hang out at the same place every night for the past few months. When a good while passed and you didn’t show up, he went looking for you, a bit worried. You were in a killing game after all. He didn’t want to assume the worst but it would be foolish not to consider the possibility. After clearing the outside areas he moved into the main building, up dusty stairs and across lesser used halls until he came upon a restricted section that Monokuma blocked off for “ normal maintenance.” You all knew this was probably a lie, that the bear probably had something far more sinister than maintenance planned for that section of the school, but no one dared cross the yellow tape and warning signs. The Kubs had threatened you all on punishment of death if you broke the rules by ruining the surprise early and entering the closed off wing. Looking over the tape, the loose boards and dimly lit hall, something was willing him to go, pushing him to check past the tape… his inner voice. He’s never ignored it before, and it’s always been the right choice. Finding a courage he didn’t normally have, he stepped cautiously under the tape, being sure not to rip or alter its placement. Creeping down the hall, he stopped dead in his tracks when he rounded a corner and saw you standing yards behind an Exisal. The deadly machine was clearly on autopilot with no Kub inside, likely just set to perform simple maintenance, guard duty, cleaning or building on its own until its owner returned. Regardless, the thing would probably mindlessly kill any signs of human life it encountered in its owner’s stead, programmed by its creator to carry out punishments on rule breakers in this area. Yet another thing that made Kiibo superior to these types of no-intellect, violent piles of scrap metal. If you were caught, you were likely dead on sight, and he knew that, and he knew you had to know that.

Shuffling up to you warily, he grabs onto your shirt firmly and begins to drag you back and away from the Exisal.

“What are you doing?!” He whispers, inching you both away from the machine and back toward the entrance to the blocked off section. You were pulling away from him, struggling with tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes. You wouldn’t scream, wouldn’t alert the Exisal now for fear of putting Kiibo’s life in danger as well, but if you could just convince him to leave, shake him off, maybe… “You shouldn’t be here!” Now a safer distance away from the Exisal, you began to protest verbally. You were mumbling, something like let me do this, I want to die, and was talking over you, solely concerned with getting you both into the clear where you could talk openly. He didn’t want to hear that word right now either: die, or any variation of it. He felt that anxiety, what humans describe as a tightness in the chest or butterflies flying around where his intestines would be. Was this feeling uniquely human?

His uneasiness lessens a tiny bit once he drags you under the tape and now down an unrestricted hall to a nearby bench, but now the uncomfortable talk had to begin. He hated this part, hated feeling inadequate and inhuman. He takes your rambling head into his hands and forces you to look at him through the tears.

“This is illogical. This is a most… painful way out! Why would you chose this way? It’s unreasonable. Why would you want to die like that, and who knows how long that thing is programmed to drag it out. Monokuma and the Monokubs are cruel to say the least, would dying by a machine they made be a great way to go out?” This was not what you wanted to hear. He was doing it again, another analytical, logical answer. You began to weep even harder, the frustration doubling at his words. You wanted to punch him in the face right now. He didn’t know what to do, eyes bouncing all over your form in confusion and dread like he was looking at a ship that just sprung a leak and was threatening to sink before him. He felt himself overheating like some common computer, ashamed at the useless he felt at that moment.

He didn’t know what to do… he was making it worse! So, he followed his inner voice.

In a panic, before he can think, he simply blurts out:

“I don’t want you to go! I would miss you, and I like having you in my life! I care about you, so please, please don’t do this.” He’s gasping though he doesn’t need to breathe. You find yourself calming down a bit, shaken by his words and quieting down to hear the rest of what he has to say. “I wouldn’t know what to do without you here. You’re my best friend and I have strong feelings for you, ones I never knew I could ever have!” You were shocked. He’d never said anything like this to you before. He takes your hands in his, and it feels right to him, like he’s supposed to do it. “Please, I’m listening. I’ll listen all night if need be.”

[veeluvss]

with you.

TW: hospitals, attempted suicide, self harm, alcohol

ANGST ANGST ANGST !!

little!jj at the end (mentions throughout) , was tempted to post this on the agere account but i think it’s too heavy.

jj x elle x emily

“Leave me alone!” JJ shouted, pushing Emily away from her. “I don’t want you!”

“Jay,” Emily sighed, feeling terrible. “I know you don’t want me. I know. But Elle isn’t here.” Elle had recently left the BAU, and JJ had been an absolute mess ever since. Emily had been struggling too. She lost her girlfriend. Elle still lived with them, she hadn’t left them, at least, not physically. Elle was never home anymore. Always at the bar, avoiding the trauma of the shooting. She hated anyone discussing Hotch or even work. She couldn’t stand being reminded of the trauma she experienced within the team. She loved Emily and JJ with her entire heart, she really did. She hated that she was pulling away from them massively but she was just waiting for the day when they kicked her out. It didn’t make sense to her. All Elle wanted was to feel loved and safe at home, surrounded by her girls. Yet, she didn’t allow it. No matter what, she refused to be at home with them.

JJ had lost her Ma. Her sweet Ma gave her the entire world. Elle and JJ had been together long before Emily joined the relationship. Emily was special to JJ but Elle… Elle was Elle. Elle calmed her down when her memories got too much. Elle knew by a glance when something was wrong. Elle knew JJ better than she knew herself. Emily was learning but the comfort was unmatched. JJ just wanted her Ma. She wanted her to hold her, sing to her, and tell her it was all going to be okay. Jay couldn’t help but reminded of her own mother becoming so absent when Roslyn died. Her own mother was so full of anger, hatred, guilt and trauma that it all reflected onto JJ. JJ became the punching bag, mentally and physically and she was so, so scared of it happening with Elle. Yet all she wanted was her Elle.

Emily was being hit hard too. She had to deal with the fallout of her little one whilst also processing the fact she was losing the love of her life. Every day was a fight with JJ. Every day she prayed Elle would just walk through the door, scoop them both up and never let go again but it wasn’t happening and she knew it wasn’t going to happen. Watching JJ hurting was so hard, unable to do anything. Then her own heart was twice as heavy. All she wanted was Elle because she knew Elle would make it all better. But Elle wasn’t here and Emily knew she couldn’t do it on her own.

“Get away from me!” JJ screamed, pushing at Emily again.

“Jay, please I want to help you,” Emily pleaded.

“No, no no no no! You can’t help,” JJ began to sob. “You’re not Ma.”

Emily lowered her head, She knew she wasn’t Elle and she knew she wasn’t good enough. She knew she’d never be good enough for JJ.

JJ stormed off to her bedroom. The slam of her door made Emily flinch. Slowly, she turned around and headed to her own bedroom, the one she wished Elle was in. It was losing her touch. The pillow no longer smelt like her, her clothes were absent from the wardrobe. The side of her bed was perfectly made, something Elle never, ever did. It was like she was never coming back. Emily’s worst fear. Curling up into the fetal position, Emily sobbed into Elle’s pillow.

Emily woke up sometime later to an awful banging noise - as if someone had fallen over. Or broken in. She shot up out of bed. She must have slept a while as the moonlight shone into the room. She grabbed her gun before heading out of her bedroom. The front door was fine, there was no sign of breaking or any other noises. Then, she went to check on JJ.

She pushed open her door after a soft knock. She expected to see her girl fast asleep, tucked in. But instead, JJ lay on her bedroom floor, a broken shelf beside her… and an empty bottle of pills. Her mouth was foaming and her body was rigid. Instant panic and fear flooded Emily and she dropped to her knees. She grabbed JJ, pulling her into her arms. The girl was unconscious, floppy and dead weight in her grip. Instantly, she called 911 and then rang Hotch.

-

“You should probably answer that,” the bartender said softly to a drunk Elle.

“No,” Elle replied.

“She hasn’t stopped blowing up your phone for the last twenty minutes. Maybe it's important,” they added.

“It’s not. Forget it.” Elle groaned, turning off her phone.

-

JJ woke up two days later. There was still no sign of Elle. No mention of her, no contact whatsoever. Garcia had been working on tracking her phone, everyone knew that right now, the only person JJ needed was Elle. But Elle had seemed to have given up on them all. Especially JJ.

“Why did you do it?” Emily asked, sitting beside JJ on the bed. JJ avoided eye contact. She didn’t want Emily to see the tears brimming in them. She’d already spoken to psychiatrists (one from the hospital and one from the FBI). She’d spoken to Hotch who had given her time off and now, all she wanted was to sleep - not be interrogated more.

“I want to help you, JJ,” Emily mumbled, putting her hand on Jay’s.

“No one can help.”

Emily sighed, “Elle can.”

“Yeah and she’s not here is she,” JJ snapped. Silence fell upon the two. “You can leave now.”

Emily got up and left the hospital room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

-

There was a knock at the motel door and Elle groaned loudly before climbing out of the bed.

“What?” She said, swinging it open. Emily stood there, hands in her pockets. The rain had soaked her head to toe. Her raven hair dripped droplets onto the concrete at her feet. Her eyes, flooded with tears, spilt over too.

“Emily,” Elle gasped. She was shocked to see her here. How did she know she was here?

“Please come with me,” Emily choked out.

Elle began to shake her head and close the door, “no. No I do-”

“It’s JJ,” Emily spluttered. Elle paused. “She’s in the hospital.”

“The ho- did something happen?”

Emily couldn’t say it. She couldn’t admit that she wasn’t good enough to keep JJ alive. But her eyes gave it all away. Elle grabbed her coat before heading straight to her car. Emily followed in her own.

-

The room was full of tension. JJ’s breaths floated through the room in time to the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. Elle gasped, standing at the end of the bed. Her girl, hair matted, bruised face, wires coming out of her in every place possible.

“She did this because I left-”

“I tried to be there for her Elle,” Emily sighed. She stayed at the door, wanting to give them space.

“I did this to her.”

“N-no Elle.” Emily stepped closer. “You didn’t.”

“She could have died bec-”

“Because she’s hurting. Not because of you.”

“She’s hurting because of me. Em. I left! She did this!”

EMily couldn’t argue. She knew the reason JJ had done this was because she couldn’t live without Elle.

“Y-you were coming back though, weren’t you?” Emily asked softly, lowering her eyes. Elle sighed. “You know we want you back,” emily continued. “We never wanted you to go.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you?”

Elle turned to look out of the window, over the city. She didn’t want to look at her hurting girls anymore. “I needed some time.”

“Time for what?”

“For me. To - to find myself.”

“And you thought you were going to find yourself at the bottom of a bottle of wine?” Emily snapped.

“Emily!” Elle turned. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is like Elle? What is like? Because right now, your actions, your drinking, your ghosting - all of it - has caused that strong, sweet girl to almost lose her life.”

“You just said it’s not my fault.”

“Yeah well I was trying to make you feel better. But I’m sick of making you feel better when all you do is hurt us. Hurt me!”

“Dont you think I’m hurting too?”

“I know you’re hurting Elle! I know. I know exactly how it feels for a job to fail, I know how it hurts. But you immediately pushed us away, maaking it all about you. We were there for you, waiting for you day after day after day to come home. And you didn’t.”

“I was scared, Em.”

“And we were scared you were dead.”

“Maybe I wish I was!”

Instantly, the heart monitor began beeping rapidly. An alarm sounded and doctors rushed in. Elle and Emil were rushed from the room, their calls and their questions ignored.

-

Hours later, they were allowed back in the room. JJ was awake, sat up in the bed, staring out of the window.

Emily came in quickly and sat beside her on the bed, checking her over. JJ reassured her she was fine before her gaze landed on the brunette in the doorway.

“Jennifer-”

“Is this what it takes for you to turn up?” JJ interrupted. But her heart hurt, seeing Elle’s sad, tear stained face. Hearing the sadness and regret in her voice. Jay wasn’t like Emily, she couldn’t hold a grudge, she couldn’t be mad for long. She just wanted to curl up in Elle’s arms and cling to her so she never leaves again.

“I never wanted this to happen,” Elle mumbled. JJ began to cry then.

“Please just come hug me,” she begged. Elle nodded and moved swiftly to the other side of the bed. She grabbed her and held her, so tight. Elle’s arms went around JJ’s back, holding her close to her whilst JJ sobbed into her shoulder, arms tightly around Elle’s waist.

“I’m never going ever again baby,” Elle said, beginning to cry herself. Emily sighed, watching the scene.

“Please don’t,” JJ cried.

“Come,” Elle whispered, opening her arms to Emily. Emily smiled and moved across the bed, cuddling into the pair of them.

For the first time in weeks, all three felt at home. With each other.

–

“So Ma has therapy this morning but then I was thinking afterwards, we could go to the zoo!” Elle suggested, handing JJ her plate of pancakes.

“The Zoo!” Jj cheered, throwing up her arms.

“Did I hear the zoo?” EMily gasped, coming into the kitchen.

“You did,” Elle smiled widely.

“We going to the zoo mama! You come tooooo?” JJ asked. Her little legs were swinging from her chair and her pigtail plaits and fresh morning face made her look incredibly cute.

“I’m afraid I have to work. But we can have a movie night when I’m home,” Emily smiled. She leaned down, kissed her little princess on the cheek before taking her girl into her arms.

“I’m so proud of you,” Emily mumbled into Elle’s ear. Elle blushed and hid her face in Emily’s freshly washed hair. “You’re doing incredible. Thank you.” She gave Elle a sweet kiss before helping herself to coffee.

“Do you think you could take a few days off? Within the next few weeks,” elle asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“I thought maybe we could go on a little holiday. The three of us, some time away.”

“Holiday! We go beach!” JJ cheered. The caregivers looked at her, wide smiles on their faces which only grew seeing the state of her. She had syrup and strawberry juice all over her face and her hands were covered in mushed up pancake. But she was happy and so were they.

“A holiday sounds amazing,” Emily agreed. “Especially with you.”

[karmonysan]

⚠️"TW PLIS"⚠️

♡HEADCANON VILLAGERS♡(part two)

¤We started with the second part of the headcanons, it took me a while because I had gotten entangled in some headcanons, especially the one about the witches, but well, having said that, we started

keep discretion¤

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□

●In each village of any biome there is a "leader" and they are almost always the oldest villagers and sometimes they are the priests/clerics of the village and that command is passed to the next cleric

the villages do not have a name to put it that way... aaah normally depending on the place where it is such as "southern village" or "north" they put their names in truth it is rare that villages have names, those who are named are the large towns or villas for example

In my minecraft world there is the town of sin, it is the second largest town that exists (since it has more services than a village)

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

●In the big towns it has places that are called "slums", while everything that is great and beautiful is in the center and part of the start entrance until further back there are these small villages that are usually in the most deplorable conditions.

(like some cities in our real world)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

●the cats in some villages of any biome are just simple pets. while for others they are small guardians who take care of the houses of any carrion spirit and for the ignorant they continue to be helpers of witches

They would not hesitate to burn them (especially if they are black cats and those that are black with white spots)

●the villagers are peaceful....but some are cowardly little bastards that if they would dare harm each other just out of envy or just because they don't like it, it doesn't necessarily have to be physical harm anything can harm

◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇

●for the villagers the players are very dangerous, it's like playing russian roulette with them they are so unpredictable that they live in constant fear that their passing player will decide to burn them just for fun,

although there are also some who put them high on a shelf as heroes or guardians sent by nocht

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤

●the villagers have many legends depending on the biome. from gods who created the universe with a star, to a creature that devours souls

for them the stories cannot be missing

●Just like us, they don't know how they were created. Thanks to ancient writings from ancient civilizations, the existence of Nocht is known, and unlike us, they believe that he is the creator of everything, including the gods that they believe exists, so Yeah

maybe between towns they will fight for their beliefs and their biome gods but when they talk about nocht there nobody discusses anything

●if you are wondering if, in this world, nocht is god and satan himself is herobrine and if they also worship him as the being that faced their god

from witches, illagers and even some villagers venerate it and sacrifice

●and to finish....

the villagers usually fall asleep on top of others, while for the players it is super rare or synonymous with a relationship for them it is the most normal thing in the world so they also cuddle, as if they were cuddly kittens

This is how they sleep in their little naps ♡w♡

and that's how they cuddle

[2dboisloyal-devotee]

Might I request platonic yandere Garry (ib) with a g/n reader? Maybe reader fills a similar role as Ib, possibly Garry's snapping point is after the doll room? ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Sure, anon, hope you enjoy!

Thorns in The Flesh

>)~ Headcanons/imagines

TW: yandere, obsessive and overprotective behaviors, paranoia bordering delusional, guilt trip, yadda yadda the usual

Proceed with caution, I don't take responsibility for any younger ages reading.

Where to begin with this guy... there's nothing wrong with him, he's barely slipping by though I feel, it won't take much for him to just snap even before the doll room scene. It would just take a turn for the worse from already bad situation if you're his friend who accompany him to the art gallery.

How you act towards him will have a big influence for sure, but you still could able to stop him do some things (like kicking the mannequin head if you manage to convince him that it might get him cursed and it's unwise to harm the art gallery's alive properties. From there, he'll have the conscience to not kick the blue doll later on.)

For him to be more overprotective, you might have to be clumsy/get hurt too much even if you're by his side. Do you think he could just stand back and let you get hurt again while in his watch?

He can get really annoyingly fussy over your being and justifying what you deem as too much is only for your own good. The art gallery isn't just the one making him crazy, it is just really that crazy.

“I'm sorry, but if it were safe from the beginning, I wouldn't have to do this...”

The art gallery may notice this and is going to have a field day from this, being more aggressive in their games.

Cue making him look like a maniac from how much he has to be by your side whenever and whereever, it's suffocating on how he always have a hand to get hold of you whether it be on your should or holding tightly your hand that you can feel his palm is cold or sweating most of the time.

If there comes a time to do a puzzle which only requires one person, he will only waste time by just fretting over the ways he could do it together and make it possible with his efforts no matter how (maybe you could make him stop...)

When you decide to discuss about it as gentle as you could to him in the safe room, you can only hope to make him less worried (can you?)

You're currently sitting while leaning on the side of a book shelf, his coat draping over your back before you decide to speak up.

“Hey, Gary... Aren't you tired? ...you should rest for a moment and save your energy.” You frown, brows creasing with worry.

In the middle of his pacing back and forth, he stops suddenly, kneeling to see you at your eye level and holding your shoulder. “Listen, (name). Please hear me closely, do you know why we're here only to suffer at these things' mercy? We're here as the victims, and don't get me wrong, while this room looks safe... I don't trust it a bit.”

“But, Gary, we're two people. I'm not going to just let you do all—everything you know? In turn, I could keep watch while you re—”

Gary stares with widening eyes like he just heard you said the worst offense ever in the whole world, he shakes his head slowly despite words streaming out his mouth. “Nonononono you-don't-know-how-things-could-get-bad-here-anytime! I wouldn't be able to rest knowing you might possibly be in danger even in this room I wouldn't be able to live with myself what if you get injured or worse ... ”

Things will be awkward between the two of you and while he may get more quiet and cold the more time passes, you can't miss his still-overbearing acts like a watchful guard dog. He wants you to only listen to him as he's the only one who knows the best for you. The solace to be away from him is beginning to sound tempting even in this place...

Especially after someone's arrival who just run into you, he's... not so subtly emanating a thick yet sharp silent hostility.

The yellow haired girl looks stunned for a moment to find another another person despite how she just get knocked over herself.

“Are—are you okay, (name)??” There he starts again... Gary checks you everywhere he thinks you could get injured or something worrying.

“I'm fine, Gary... More importantly—” You're about to glance at the girl when Gary stands in front of you, looking at her as if she's the villain that she starts to get scared of him and backs off with the intent to run away but you soon call out to her.

“I'm sorry, are you okay? You must be another visitor like us, we were also looking for a way to get out.” You smile as if trying to reassure her and slowly approach her, avoiding how Gary tries to stop you in place. “You can call me (Name) and... This person beside me is Gary, what about you?”

“(Name)...” The girl gapes with awe at you as if you're the knight in shining armor and she quickly speak up in a giddy voice while offering her hand which you accept. “My name is Mary! It's so nice to meet you...! I, I was really scared... and alone... I was looking to see if there was anyone else too...”

“Don't worry, now that there's more people, we can work together and find the way out! Isn't that relieving to hear, Gary?” You muster up a smile, trying to ease the tense atmosphere between the two of them.

He has no time to care about some random suspicious passerby, be it a kid or old people—he has to restrain himself not ripping her hand off you right then and there when you return her handshake.

While he stands between you and her whose talkativeness only applies to you as you reply her with equal excitement (+ relief to have someone else beside him), his thoughts are wrecking havoc; what if she's working together with the people behind all of this? She may seem innocent but that could be a trick to lure you. She might wait for the perfect moment to strike. Don't trust her, donttrustheedonttrustherdont—

Every what ifs are passing through his mind and he's all the more deluded to believe she's out to harm you once you got separated from him by the thick vines coming out of a painting in the middle of hallway.

“(Name)! Are you okay!?” At this rate he sounds almost like hypervilanting, all the three of you are terrified for different yet similar reasons.

“I'm fine, Gary... Ho..how about you?” you ask.

“...I'm okay, everything will be alright, everything will be alright ... ” he keeps muttering as if possessed rather than saying it to soothe you.

Mary clutch your hand, whispering to you with trembling voice. “..I'm scared of him, (Name)... Can we just leave him? Maybe he needs to be left alone for a bit to calm down...”

You nod stiffly before telling Gary to not worry about you, since you won't be alone and have Mary.

An eerie silence falls down, then Mary decides to pull you, asking to go with her and trust him. Finally, you two leave him, who is now all alone.

He may be scared of being alone, but the fear he has over your safety is indescribable, he goes in the room on his left side hastily, searching for clues while at times staring the dolls that sit around the room with loathe before he finally exit through a hole behind the bookshelf.

On to the way to the doll room, we may see him succeed getting out from there and continuing the explore with Ib after the truth about Mary. He's right for once again, even scolding you a bit when you got too friendly with her.

Because Mary is mostly out of the picture now, Gary has calmed down quite a bit, realizing he may actually be too much after all and apologizing.

If we put the best end; Promise of Reunion, here after you escape with him from the fake art gallery out into the real one together and manage to restore the memories, everything should end there at a satisfying yet hopeful note.

It should have. So why is there a feeling of lingering dread and being watched again even now when you're alone after departing from Gary?

“I'm sorry...”

[lonelyyinchicago]

//tw: suicide, self harm, blood//

agreeing to spend his summer at the potter’s was beginning to turn into a decision regulus regretted. everyone in the house was so happy all the time and it was draining. even through the full moons remus was still smiling, the others surrounding him and showering him with affection. regulus found it exhausting; each morning waking up only to plaster on his best fake smile, and pretend to enjoy whatever activity had been designated for that day. 

regulus’ favourite times of each day slowly turned into whenever he was showering - when he could be alone without pretending he was interested or excited by the repetitive conversation of his brother’s friends all discussing when their OWL results would arrive as if the date hadn’t already been assigned by the ministry of magic months before the papers were even sat. ‘still going to be the 23rd august’ regulus thought to himself as he sat under the water, ‘just like it was last year.’ 

placing his hands flat against the tiled wall, regulus heaved himself up to his feet. as he reached out to replace the bottle of soap on the shelf and turn the water off, the blade of a razor caught his eye as the moonlight reflected off the metal. his pale fingers closed around the handle and he sat back down again before closing his eyes and dragging the sharp metal across the width of his wrist. 

he let out an involuntary sound of surprise at the coldness of the blade before immediately pressing his lips tightly together in a futile attempt to take it back. a knock on the door forced regulus’ eyes open and he dropped the razor as he hurried to his feet. 

���you okay, reg? you’ve been in there a while?”

of course it was james potter’s concerned tone that met regulus’ ears. who else would it be? yanking his towel off the radiator, regulus wrapped it around himself and unlocked the door, leaving the room so fast james was forced to take a step back to avoid a collision. james hesitated before entering the bathroom. whilst rearranging the bottles of soap, james’ eyebrows drew together as he noticed the missing razor. looking around briefly, james saw it lying discarded on the shower floor, the water around it tinted a slight red colour. 

tentatively picking up the razor, james placed it on the edge of the sink before turning the shower back on to the wash away the bloodstains. he cursed himself for not noticing it sooner, for not joining the dots. james forced himself to blink back tears as he picked up the razor and took it downstairs. stupid of him, really, to leave it in temptation’s way like that, but the thought had never crossed his mind that it would be a temptation. 

the kitchen was dark but james easily made his way to the edge of the work surface, throwing the razor into the bin without a second thought. he turned around, immediately placing a hand over his heart when he saw regulus standing in the doorway, the hall light behind him casting shadows across his face. 

“you okay?” james asked, trying his best to remain as calm and casual as possible. “almost gave me a heart attack” he added with a small smile. 

“i’m fine” regulus said shortly. 

“you can talk to me, you know” james said, moving slightly closer to the younger boy. “you don’t have to take your feelings out on yourself.”

regulus stared straight ahead, refusing to blink until the grey eyes began to water. he succumbed, keeping them closed for a good twenty seconds before exhaling deeply. 

“i don’t want to talk about it” he said eventually, finally looking up at james to search his face for a trace of disappointment. 

“okay” james replied simply. “but if you ever do want to, you can. are you going to come to bed now?”

regulus shrugged half heartedly but allowed himself to be guided up the stairs by james’ firm grip. outside what was now regulus’ makeshift room, james paused, looking down at the smaller boy softly.

“can i give you a hug?” 

“i-” 

regulus froze and with the hesitation, james was grateful to the darkness for hiding his burning blush. 

“if you want.”

a small smile broke out across james’ face and he gently wrapped his arms around regulus, the smile extending as he felt regulus relax against his body. 

“see you in the morning, yeah?” james mumbled quietly as he stepped back. “yeah?”

“yeah sure” regulus said with a single nod. 

james watched as regulus turned around, opening the bedroom door with as little noise as possible. after hearing it click shut james returned to his own room, discarding his glasses on his bedside table as he threw himself face down on the mattress. he rolled over and sat up straighter, bringing his knees up under his chin as he contemplated the last hour or so. 

it wasn’t the first time regulus had been in the bathroom for over an hour and as james looked back at the previous month he could now definitely see a pattern. james sniffed, blindly reaching out for a box of tissues as hot tears began to break free of long eyelashes. 

before long, james had exhausted himself, completely running himself dry of tears. he woke up barely six hours later, bright sunshine streaming through the windows and curtains he’d forgotten to pull closed the night before. he instantly raised a hand to the back of his neck, massaging the stiff skin that had been pressed against the wooden headboard as he slept. 

with no one else awake, james decided he may as well use the bathroom before heading out to the local baker’s for the usual loaf of bread that would be assigned to the potter family. he made his way to the bathroom, pausing only momentarily when a floorboard freaked underneath him. finding the door locked, james frowned. he knocked gently, surprised that anyone else would be awake this early. 

receiving no reply, james whispered a quiet “alohomora” before gently placing his hand on the handle. all his attempts at remaining silent were abandoned as james’ let his wand clatter to the tiled floor, his eyes fixed on the slumped body leant against the toilet. 

“no no no no” james muttered over and over to himself. “AMMA!”

crouching down next to the body, james removed the dark curls that had fallen over pale face, his fingers gently tucking the strands behind regulus’ ear. 

james stopped when he heard the sharp intake of breath, looking up at euphemia helplessly. 

“you have to let go, kannu” she said quietly, her fingers warm as she tried to remove james ironclad grip on the younger boy. “i need you t-”

“it’s my fault” james whispered - a sentence that stopped euphemia’s movements. “i didn’t think to take the bottle of bleach out of the cupboard. i didn’t thi-”

“this is not your fault” euphemia said firmly, but not insensitively. “i know it’s hard, but you mustn’t blame yourself kannu. come,” she said, standing and offering a hand to her son, “i will ring for an ambulance and make some tea.”

“i don’t want to leave him.” 

[officialscaramouche]

part3part3part3 pls?????

this one broke my own heart lol but all couples have their firsts

pairing: Scaramouche x gn!reader, Kazuha x gn!reader

tw: kazuha gets a bit mean and scara’s a little violent with Mona

wc: 1,477

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Kazuha clicked his tongue as he was peeling the orange. “Don’t worry about it,” he sort of yelled, clearly irritated with the conversation. “Why are you so bothered about it anyway? I lost my best friend, but what did you lose? He already left you over a year ago!”

You swung your head to look at your boyfriend. “Do not talk to me like that.”

Kazuha dropped his hands on the counter, orange rolling away. “Huh? What, I’m not Scaramouche so you don’t tolerate attitude now? Oh, but if I were Scaramouche, you’d let me fuck around on you right?!”

“Are you serious?!” You shouted, your face getting red with anger. “If you wanna fuck around then go ahead!! I see your true colors now! I’m leaving!!”

Kazuha gasps, truly surprised by your actions. “I’m not done peeling this for you! What about the orange?!”

The old lady in the shop shook Mona’s hand. “You are such a fine young lady. You two treat each other well, okay? It gets hard to find love when you’re older.”

Scaramouche puts his wallet away, picking up the package wrapped in paper. “Thank you, ma’am. Have a good day, now.” Mona throws her hair back with a confident smirk, making Scaramouche scoff. “Don’t be flattered by some decrepit woman who’s to die in minutes.”

“You’re such an ass!! What is your fucking problem lately?!”

Scaramouche chuckled, loving the reaction he got from her. “Oh, am I being too mean?” He teased, wiggling his fingers at her.

“Ever since that fucking party you’ve been absolutely awful! She crossed her arms as they crossed the courtyard and up the stairs to a large house.

“Be on your best behavior,” Scaramouche warns. “Or I’ll seriously kill you.”

“Who’s house is this?” She gawked as they approached the door the size of small buildings.

“Not a house. This is the Fatui headquarters.”

“So when you work—”

“When I don’t have assignments but I have work, I come here, yes.” The agents by the door slowly lugged the door open, taking their entire body strength to throw the doors open. “We’re meeting the Tsaritsa. Do not embarrass me.”

Kazuha knocked softly as the guilt enveloped him. He stared into his hands, wondering if he truly was capable of doing harmful things to you, like Scaramouche did. He shook his head to dismiss the thoughts, knocking once more a bit harder in case you didn’t hear. “[Y/N]?” He called out, pressing his ear to the door. He heard you grumbling and shuffling around, purposefully ignoring him. “[Y/N], I’m coming in.” He tried the knob but it wouldn’t budge. You locked it. He pressed his ear to the door again, hearing you zipping something up. “Are you packing?” He asked, knowing you weren’t going to answer. “I have your oranges…”

You threw something at the door, making him jump. “Fuck off, Kazuha! Leave me alone!”

His knees started to shake, and his fingers ached at your words. He told himself a long time ago that he wouldn’t do anything that would make you leave. You meant so much to him, and you didn’t even know. If you left, he’d have nothing else to look forward to. “[Y/N], please let me in…I’m really sorry…”

“I don’t care about your stupid apologies!! Go fuck Mona too, while you’re at it!”

He knew how heartbroken you were when Scaramouche left and he knows that kind of pain doesn’t go away so quickly. But part of him was jealous. Jealous that you still look at him with love, even if your words were laced with hate. He was jealous that Scaramouche didn’t even stop to look at him and that he went straight to you. Seeing you and him so close to each other made him angry. All he’d have to do was apologize and touch you softly for you to leap back into his arms.

But what about himself? With Kazuha, you locked him out of your shared room and threatened to leave. He didn’t know what to do to calm you down; the oranges weren’t enough. He wanted to hold you, like he always does when you’re upset. Hold you close to him, let you listen to his heart beating. He wants to kiss the top of your head and tell you how much he loves you. “Can I come in?” He asks again, gripping the bowl in his hands tightly. “I want to hold you.”

“No!” You shout, clanging and thrashing resounding from behind the door.

He grit his teeth and put the bowl on a nearby shelf, grabbing hold of the doorknob and resting his shoulder against the door. If you wouldn’t open it, he would. But then your words hit him again, about him fooling around with someone else— Mona, at that. You were comparing him to Scaramouche, and breaking down the door was something he definitely would do. He let go of the doorknob. He wasn’t going to be like that.

Scaramouche held his girlfriend around the waist as they left. She had stars in her eyes from looking around and being inside such a lavish building. “She’s so cool!” She exclaimed, talking about the Tsaritsa. “I want to be just like her!”

Scaramouche chuckled, pulling her closer. “The Tsaritsa is much purer than you,” he said. “But you were a good girl in there. As a reward, I’ll buy us dinner.”

She looked at him with excitement. “Really?!”

It was more packed than he’d prefer, but he was in a good mood. “Can I really get whatever I want?” She asked, peering over the menu.

Scaramouche rolled his eyes playfully. “Yes baby. Anything you want.”

Scaramouche ordered one meal for himself and everything else was hers. The table was filled with so much food that she’d have to fill her plate and then eat without it on the table. His behavior was weird, she thought, but she didn’t act upon it while he was still paying.

The bill came, and Scaramouche wrote a check with the usual scowl on his face, then smiled back at her. “Thanks for the food but,” she said. “Why?”

He laughed, knowing she waited. He loved that she was predictable, it reminded him of you. “When the Tsaritsa asked you to leave,” he began, recalling the meeting’s events. “We were discussing my next assignment. I’ll be leaving tomorrow, so I wanted to treat us.”

Mona packed all of the food she didn’t eat. “Why though? I don’t care if you leave.”

His expression dropped. “You don’t care that I’m leaving? You won’t miss me?”

“What, should I? Maybe in the beginning when you were still nice, but not anymore. Don’t confuse me with [Y/N].”

He stood and grabbed her by the arm, yanking her closer to him. With the other hand he grabbed her face the same way he did when he was mad at you. “Just because I was nice doesn’t mean I can’t take it back.” She was right. She wasn’t you. But his mind had been so clouded with the image of you, that he’s starting to pretend that she was you.

“Take what back, the food? Don’t be stupid.”

He grabbed her hip firmly, pressing his thumb too forcefully into her belly. “You can throw it up, can’t you?”

Kazuha had drifted asleep on the couch waiting for you to come out but as soon as the click of your door opening rang into his ears, he shot up to his feet and waited for you to turn the corner into the living room. And when you did, he bolted over to you, grabbing your hands into his gently as if he were carrying an egg. “[Y/N],” he smiled at you after you stopped in your tracks. Your eyes were red and puffy, nose sniffling from crying. “Oh, [Y/N],” he pulled you into a tight embrace and nuzzled his nose into your neck.

You didn’t hug him back, and your body jerked as you fought back more tears. “I’m s-sorry, Kazuha…” you mewled, bringing shaky hands to his back and returning the embrace.

“I’m sorry too, [Y/N],” he said barely over a whisper and kissed the skin of your neck. “I love you so much, it hurts. The thought of you leaving frightens me.” He pulled back to look you in the face. He swipes the tears off of your cheeks and kissed them. “My sweet sea breeze.”

You laughed at his silly pet name and wiped your face with the back of your hand. “Do the leaves hate me?” You asked jokingly.

“The leaves don’t hate you,” he responded seriously. “They were telling me to repent for my mistakes.”

“Oh shut up,” you laugh, swatting him away. But you would never know how serious he was being.

[multiplefandomsblog]

Bomb Squad! S/o w/ Kaito, Kaito, Korekiyo

request; Kaito, Korekiyo and Rantaro with an SHSL explosives expert s/o? How would they react to seeing their s/o flying across the room because they’ve blown themselves up

warnings; gender-neutral reader, cussing, tw; explosives, tw; bomb accidents, bombs and getting harmed by bombs.

note; aargarhgrjgrhjsjah mod bread helped me a lot with this one!! i hafta admit, they totally carried-

Kaito Momota

◊ Kaito Momota, the luminary of the stars. Despite taking large pride in his ultimate despite never actually going to space, he gets intimidated by you. Though he’d never admit that; not even to himself.

◊ He’s not scared of you per se, he’s just intimidated by how cool and serious your ultimate is if that makes any sense.

◊ Well anyway, you’ll definitely hear many praises from this man; because, well, you save millions of lives from blowing up! It’s just all-around heroic! And- well yeah— bombs!

◊ He’s not an explosive person, so he wouldn’t really want to be too close to any bombs, though he’d definitely try helping at least once.

◊ which doesn’t go too well.

◊ the man will have shaky hands the entire time and dead-ass will have small tears in his eyes as he’s fiddling with it. It’s extremely silent other than a few whimpers here and there, so it gives you the perfect opportunity to—

◊ “BOO!” “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-“

◊ now then... Let’s see how Kaito would react when you blow yourself up, yeah?

— Imagine this; Kaito wanders around the school, partially looking for an escape, but mostly looking for you. The astronaut hums a small tune under his breath as he walks around the pavement in his way too comfortable slippers.

“Hey now, you’re an all-star... Um, wait- how did it go? Put your… Put your-“ Kaito’s quiet and confused muttering had been cut short, as he suddenly jolted his head up to the sky- where he had seen—what he thought was—a shooting star.

Kaito gasped loudly, jumping back in surprise and scraping the heel of his slipper as he pointed at the star-shaped object in the sky, moving at an incredibly fast pace. Hm, though it could’ve been a meteorite judging from the smoke trail it left.

“Oh my god, a shooting star! Awesome!”

It didn’t seem to hit Kaito on how abnormal it was to see a shooting star in their situation. Especially one that had been flailing its arms around and screaming.

Kaito’s wide and amazing eyes seemed to widen more, though this time; in complete dread and shock.

You-

You were the shooting star.

“S/o!? Holy shit—“

The man would sit in between amazed and borderline scared for your life. Was he… Was he supposed to clap? You did tons of crazy shit, so he had no idea whether this was planned.

◊ Kaito would definitely sprint across the school to get to you, he was genuinely afraid if you had survived or not.

◊ Damn, giving the man a heart attack? How heartless of you smh

◊ Kaito has to restrain himself from hugging whatever life was left inside you, he wanted to feel if you were alive and safe.

◊ It definitely takes some time for him to become less worried about your safety 24/7, so get used to coddling and nagging from this man.

◊ He’s kind of an idiot, so he doesn’t know exactly what to do to ensure your safety other than a, uh,

Bicycle helmet.

◊ so just wear one of those, and he’ll leave you alone!

◊ As you two discuss your safety, Kaito ends up accidentally blurting out how cool you looked shooting across the sky. Yeah, he was worried about your safety; but you’re alive, right? Cut him some slack, the man witnessed a flying explosion, of course, he’s going to think it’s cool.

◊ S/o: “You thought I was a shooting star? What’d you fucking do? Make a wish?!”

Kaito:

S/o:

Kaito: “If I told you it wouldn’t come true.”

Korekiyo Shinguji

◊ Korekiyo would be intrigued by you, but also somewhat disturbed by you. Which only seems to fuel the fire.

◊ Korekiyo would enjoy talking to you about how bombs work; he enjoys listening to you talk about your passion, as well as taking in all the information about bombs. It’s entertaining for him to compare how bombs have evolved from the past to the current.

◊ though he loves you and your ultimate if you’re ever going to work on a bomb, stay far away from him. I head-canon that he doesn’t enjoy loud and explosive things, and just witnessing explosions in general. He’s a pretty chill and quiet guy, so it clashes with his vibe, you know?

◊ Sorry, this is so short, I have little to no idea how to write for this man—

◊ It would probably be near impossible to have this man witness your explosions up close. He’s always in his lab studying, so it’s hard getting him out of there, and you can’t exactly go into his lab with your bombs anyway.

◊ But let’s say you somehow did. After persuading him, or maybe he was just too tired to say no.

◊ So imagine this!

— Korekiyo would be sitting on his desk, a nice ancient book splayed out on the wooden surface, and he’d be muttering under his breath small phrases of other languages, as well as small words for himself like, “Humanity truly is beautiful-“

Famous last words.

A sudden explosion echoed out throughout his lab, causing Korekiyo to jolt up and almost crease the pages of his very precious book. Luckily, he did not.

‘I take that back.’

He had been more concerned about his book than the actual human being who had thudded against the bookshelf right beside his head, dropping on the ground after they had peeled off the shelf like processed American cheese product.

“S/o...” Korekiyo sighed, standing up from his chair to step over you and help you up. “You do know that humans were never meant to fly, correct?” He hadn’t even been looking at you when you flew across the room like a baseball thrown by Leon Kuwata, but the quick flash of movement he had caught at the corner of his eye told him what he needed to know.

It was as if he had gotten used to this despite never having witnessed such a feat before.

◊ Korekiyo would definitely give you a small scolding after bandaging you up; yes he was worried about his book and lab, but he had also been worried about you too. He wasn’t just scolding you, so he could avoid future possible destruction in his lab. Pshhh noooo...

◊ Korekiyo would put a sign outside his door after the incident, it’s definitely personal and very passive-aggressive, but he just does not want to witness that again. “Bombs and other destructive weaponry stay OUTSIDE.”

Rantaro Amami

◊ Rantaro wouldn’t be repulsed nor would he be extremely excited about your ultimate. He definitely thinks it’s an incredible ultimate; I mean, bombs are pretty incredible.

◊ But also pretty dangerous too.

◊ I feel like he’d always have to be given a reminder that you’re okay and not dead from your own explosions. Trust me, he definitely trusts you to be careful; especially since that’s your ultimate, of course, you would have lots of experience. But even so, he will still nag you about it. He means well, I swear.

◊ Rantaro would, despite being hesitant about it himself, always want to be with you when you work on a bomb. He’d wear the proper bomb suit and everything, but he’s mostly there because he wants to make sure you’re wearing the bomb suit properly too; please don’t be too reckless, he will take away all your bomb equipment if you are.

◊ You’d get a time-out from it for a couple of days. Yes, he has that power.

◊ You may or may have not made a mistake having him as your boyfriend— but seriously! He’s just being careful, he doesn’t want to lose you.

◊ God, now that I’ve said all this, you’re going to feel reaaaaal bad when I write the scenario for when you actually blow up.

— Rantaro would most likely be by your side the moment you blow up, worried green head over your shoulder as you reassured him, “Pshh, no, it’ll be fine!” Rantaro winced as the bomb you had been working on, made a sound. “Just be careful, I don’t want you to get hurt,” Rantaro spoke with a soft, but scolding voice as his eyebrows seemed to crease further.

“Don’t be such a worrywart, it’s fine-!“ You seemed to be proven wrong, and Rantaro had unfortunately been proven right, as the both of you shot back, a large explosion noise following— Rantaro, on instinct, grabbed you and tucked you underneath his chest, clenching his eyes closed as he awaited the impact of the wall they were about to slam into.

The two of you had flown across the room, clutching each other tightly; if this had been a movie, that would’ve definitely been one of the more romantic scenes.

The air had been knocked out of the two of you, Rantaro more so as he had done the stupidly brave act of shielding you with his body.

Despite being disgruntled and slightly irked that you hadn’t listened to him, he seemed to throw that all aside as he had caught you wincing. “Did you get hurt anywhere? Are you okay? Any burns—?” Your strained groan—shockingly— turned into a laugh, “... That was so fucking fun! Can we do it again!?”

With narrowed eyes, Rantaro had given you the stare you tried your best to avoid being the victim to. The disappointed mom glare. The glare didn’t last long, however, as his eyes softened at the excited look you had on your face. He gets what he signed up for, right?

If this had been anyone else, they would have gotten an earful from him. “You’re insane.” Rantaro halfheartedly laughed, voice still laced with concern despite being playful.

“We’re not doing that again, you explosive monkey.” Rantaro shoved your head gently, only to receive a playful hit back.

◊ Rantaro would be extremely worried if you ever put yourself in danger like that. Unlike Korekiyo, he cannot get used to it when you blow yourself up. No matter what, he will always worry about you.

◊ Mom Mode: ON

◊ He is now more careful with you, the worry he has for you has now increased by 100% so yeah, good luck with that.

◊ the next time will not be as forgiving. Next time—if Rantaro even lets you have a next time—; you will be in scoldings galore.

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Alpha to the Rescue!

tw: cursing

Word count: 830

Pairing: Alpha Kuroo x Omega Reader

Genre: Fluff

AN: Ugh, another Alpha after my own heart istg

Kuroo knew he was going to have his hands full when he decided to court you. From the moment he had met you, he knew that this would be interesting. You guys had first met at a convenience store, both reaching for the same snack that coincidentally ended up being the last on it’s shelf. He was surprised to find an Omega with such a bite to her, and ended up relinquishing his grip on the snack from it. Victorious, you scurried away with a smirk chirping a gratified thanks over your shoulder as you disappeared from his sight. Your scent wasn’t the most usual either. Omegas typically had a sweet scent, and your mint-like eucalyptus scent threw him off.

Of course, Kuroo himself was the master of provocation and it all came to a head when you guys ended up meeting in your homeroom class the first day of high school. He couldn’t resist teasing the feisty Omega that had captured his attention. It took over a year for him to convince you that he wanted to court you and that he wasn’t messing around with you for shits and giggles, and even then, Kuroo wanted to rip his head out. You were so frustratingly stubborn that his pack-mates couldn’t help but snicker behind his back. Karma for being a pain-in-the-ass, they’d say. 

So no, he wasn’t surprised when he found a crowd gathering and heard your voice in the midst of it - a sharp eucalyptus scent filling the hall. Kuroo pinched his nose, pushing his way through the crowd. “Move,” he snapped at the chattering Omegas who stood in his way. “That’s my Omega I need to go rescue.”

By the time Kuroo made his way to the front, a group of Betas were staring you down, lips furrowed in the makings of a snarl. Kuroo sighed, these were obviously more Alpha-leaning Betas. Now that he was closer, he could hear your arguments. “You took my shit!” You snapped, glaring at them. 

“I didn’t take shit, Omega. Now why don’t you run along and find someone to cry to?”

“That’s it!” You snarled, running towards the lead Beta only to get your collar snagged. Clawing at his hands, you whip around to see Kuroo. “Kuroo! This fucker tried to steal my notebook with all of my research in it.”

 Kuroo raised an eyebrow, dragging you forcibly towards him. “Is that so?” He turned to address the Beta. Though Betas couldn’t smell it, his Alpha couldn’t help but force the sharp cherry scent. The crowd winced at the scent of possession and irritation that filled the hall and overwhelmed yours. 

The Beta licked his lips, looking between you and Kuroo. “Maybe.”

“Give it back, and we’ll have no problems here. I see no reason to continue this conflict when no harm was done, yes?” Kuroo planted a pleasant smile on his face, ignoring your argumentative complaints. 

The Beta rolled his eyes, tossing the notebook at Kuroo’s feet. “Let’s go.” Him and his friends turned, disappearing in the crowd. 

“And that’s all folks! Please make your way to your own classes now,” Kuroo waved at the residual audience members, causing them to dissipate until it was just you and him left in the hall. 

“What’d you do that for?” You whined, glaring at Kuroo who released his grip on your collar, fixing your uniform.

Kuroo fixed you with a hard stare, his voice deepening as his eyes flickered black. “You need to stop getting yourself into trouble. What were you going to do, beat up all three of those Betas?”

“Yes!” You snap. “They would have deserved it.”

Kuroo sighed, pinching his nose before bending down and grabbing your notebook. “C’mon ‘Mega. Let’s just go home and we’ll have a long discussion about what type of fights you should be picking. If you’re going to pick a fight, at least make it one you’ll win, ok?”

You cross your arms, eyes narrowed. “I could totally have won that fight.”

He raised an eyebrow, lip quirking up in a smirk. “Oh really? What would you have done if one of those Betas decided to restrain your arms? What then?” He tucked the notebook under his armpit, crossing his arms. “I highly doubt that you would be able to kick them all into compliance.”

Pouting, you sulked. “Whatever.”

Kuroo chuckled, uncrossing his arms to pull you against him. “Let’s go home and we’ll start doing aikido okay? I know you want to fight, but I’d rather give the skills to use your enemies’ strength against them. God knows you’ll probably end up provoking someone to fight you one of these days.”

“What, you won’t be there to rescue me all the time?”

Kuroo shrugs as you guys walk down the hall towards the campus gates. “I can be, but what’s the fun in that? I’d rather see my bad-ass, stubborn ass, mate get herself out of the situations she puts herself in.” 

“Touché.”

*****

AN: ok i saw this and i was like LMAO this is what i would do if i was the Omega in this situation

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[gremlinbehaviour]

His Own Shoulder

@aini-nufire I finally finished it 🙈

Lancelot wakes up in a sorcerer's hovel with something inside him. He has to get it out before it can hurt anyone.

TW for self harm and mentions of suicide. Neither of them are in the typical way that you'd think of though. Lancelot does have self worth issues, but he also has a reason beyond that for needing to hurt himself. It's more of a self sacrifice thing than actually wanting to hurt himself or die. It'll make sense if you read the fic, but please take care of yourself and skip this one if you think it might upset/trigger/squick you

There's also mentions of vomit and quite a lot of discussion of someone having a parasite inside them

Read on ao3 or below the cut!

Something squirmed in Lancelot's stomach. He wanted to throw up. He knew there was something bad inside him even though he couldn't remember what it was. Yet he couldn't make himself do it with the way he hung from a roof beam. His wrists ached from the ropes cutting into them and the sensation of swinging back and forth from his arms wasn't helping his nausea. Although his feet touched the ground, he couldn't seem to stand upright. He didn't know when the sorcerer had left, but he was alone in the hovel now, except for the jar of pickled newts that glared at him from a shelf.

He was glad to be alone though; it meant none of the others had been captured, at least. Although...before he'd left, the sorcerer had said something about it not being a problem, that he only needed one… Lancelot could almost remember him monologuing about his evil plan, but couldn't recall any of the actual details. Merlin could figure it out, if he were here.

But Merlin… Lancelot squinted against the painful memory of his friend being thrown into the river as their patrol was ambushed. The assault had been targeted and well-planned; the sorcerer brought down the bridge they had been crossing with a powerful earthquake, effectively blocking off the escape route, taking out the rival magic user, and separating Lancelot from the other knights all at the same time, while mercenaries attacked his friends. He'd been horribly helpless, unable to do anything but watch as his friends fought for their lives and feeling again like a child watching as his village was massacred. Merlin's scream echoed in his ears as his head was pulled under the water. The warlock couldn't swim! Lancelot started to strip off his chainmail to jump in after him, before everything went black. He must've been knocked out somehow.

Panic surged in his chest at the thought that Merlin might be dead. He quickly shoved down the thought and forced himself to take a deep breath. Or at least,  as deep of a breath as he could with the way he was strung up. The tightness in his chest didn't let up, but his heartbeat calmed a little as he forced himself to believe that Merlin's magic wouldn't let him die. Even so, he mumbled a prayer to the Vilia, begging the spirits of the water to look after his friend once more.

When Percival busted down the door to the hovel, his heart clenched to not see Merlin leading the rescue party. The other knights were all there, but Arthur and Merlin were nowhere to be seen. Had something happened to the king as well? Lancelot wanted to ask, but he couldn't breathe well enough to get the words out until Elyan came and lifted him up slightly from the waist while Leon cut the ropes holding him up. His knees buckled when he hit the ground, but Percival was there to catch him and keep him on his feet.

"It's clear," Gwaine announced after he'd searched the hovel. "Though that's not a promise that the sorcerer won't come back."

"We should leave as soon as possible," Leon agreed. "Lancelot, can you walk?"

"I can carry you if not," Percival offered, in that gentle giant way of his.

"Where's Merlin?" He asked instead of answering. "He was, I saw him go in the water, he can't swim-"

"Merlin is fine, Lance," Elyan reassured him, squeezing his arm. "He did swallow a lot of water, but Arthur fished him out. They stayed behind near the fire they made to dry off."

Lancelot nodded as relief flooded his body. He let his friends help him to his feet and bundle him out of the cabin, with Gwaine grabbing his friend's chainmail, sword, and dagger from a shelf where they'd been stacked after they were stripped off of him. The relief that his friends were okay made Lancelot feel almost dizzy, and he was glad that Elyan had ducked under his arm for support and Percival held onto his left shoulder.

"Lance, are you hurt? What did the sorcerer do to you?" Gwaine asked, noticing that the knight didn't seem to be recovering as quickly as he would have expected now that he was free. There was blood caked on his forehead from a cut over his eyebrow, but that might not be his only injury.

"I don't know… I think… I think he made me swallow something."

"Some kind of potion?" Elyan asked, sounding nervous. His shoulders were tense under Lancelot's arm.

"No, I don't think so," he mumbled, struggling to remember. Something about whatever it was he had drunk was making him forgetful, or maybe that was just the head injury. "I think it was…" He stumbled as he remembered and his feet stopped working because he was so horrified. "It was a snake."

"A snake?" Leon shouted as everyone drew to a halt. Percival instantly squeezed Lancelot's arm protectively, his grip almost too tight.

"Did the sorcerer give it a name?" Gwaine asked. The normal cheerful knight's voice was grave and his skin had gone gray with apparent fear.

"I don't… it might have started with an f noise. F-fo-"

"Fomorrah?" Gwaine suggested. He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath, obviously trying to keep himself together through his fear, when Lancelot nodded.

"Do you know what it was?" Leon demanded. Gwaine sighed.

"Merlin knows more about it than I do, but he told me a little about it." Lancelot knew that during the time that he had been…  gone, the warlock had confessed his magic to the other knight and told him about the magical threats they had or might face. They must've encountered this animal during that time. "The fomorrah is a creature that can control the mind of its victim and bend it to a sorcerer's will." 

At the thought of that, Lancelot shuddered so hard that Percival couldn't help but pull him into a hug. He was still recovering from Morgana's influence when she brought him back as a shade. Being controlled again would break him, especially if it was the sorcerer's will to hurt the people he cared about.

"How do you stop it?" Leon asked. "If Lancelot threw it up, would that do it?"

Gwaine just shrugged in response. "It probably can't hurt to try, but like I said, I'm not an expert."

"I'll try anything to get rid of it," Lancelot immediately agreed, his voice muffled by Percival's chest before he pushed himself back from the embrace with shaking arms. "I can't… I can't-"

"We know," Elyan said, rubbing his back comfortingly. He kept up the calming circles as Lancelot made himself vomit. Already nauseous at the concept of having swallowed a snake, it wasn't hard to do. But nothing slithered back up his throat, and all he brought up was the remains of breakfast and some blood. 

"That's not good," Percival remarked. It was such an obvious statement that no one bothered to reply.

"What if…" Elyan started, then trailed off to nervously lick his lips, which were suddenly very dry. "What if it bit him from the inside? It might've latched onto the side of his stomach, and is trying to control him through the venom, or maybe it is, um, trying to burrow through him to reach his head or heart or something."

"Maybe," Gwaine agreed. He said something else too, but Lancelot didn't hear it; he was too focused on trying to feel the snake inside his body. His stomach had been churning earlier, and then his chest had hurt. If there really was something inside him though, he would have thought he would be able to feel it more. Although, he had been very disoriented from the head injury. He thought he might have felt something now, high in the right side of his chest, just opposite his heart. A little squirm, a little thrum of pain.

"Lancelot!" Someone said more forcefully, and he blinked as he was yanked back to awareness. His friends all looked worried as they stared at him.

"Are you still with us, buddy?" Percival asked, and he nodded. "Okay. Good. We're gonna get you back to Merlin, and he can help."

Something in Lancelot's chest squirmed at that idea, and he didn't think it was just the snake. What if he didn't have that long? The fomorrah was clearly moving inside him; was it just slithering with no purpose, or did it have a goal in mind of something it was trying to reach? His heart, maybe? His head? When Gwaine had named the creature, it had somehow felt familiar. He cursed his mind's sluggishness as he followed after Leon as he led them towards where Merlin and Arthur had made camp. How far away was it? He had no way of knowing. What if the snake could only control him once it latched onto a certain part of his body? He had to stop it before then; he couldn't let it take over. There was no telling what the sorcerer wanted from him. Would it make him hurt his friends? He couldn't allow that to happen, would do anything he could to stop it.

His hand closed around the hilt of his knife where it hung on his weapon's belt. One of his friends must've buckled it on him, perhaps figuring that he wouldn't want to be defenseless should the sorcerer return or they encounter more of the mercenaries. It was a kind gesture, since they all knew how much he struggled with being vulnerable, but he wished they hadn't. If the snake took over, that would just make it that much easier for him to hurt them.

Maybe he was meant to be an assassin, maybe that's what the sorcerer meant about bringing down Camelot with just him. Maybe he was meant to kill Arthur, or, even worse, Gwen.

The snake squirmed in his shoulder. It was making its way upwards, to his neck, Lancelot realized. He suddenly remembered why the word fomorrah was familiar. When he had returned from being in the Veil and then being Morgana's Shade, he and Merlin had spent as much time as possible together. At one point, just to feel close to him, Lancelot given his friend a neck massage to help with all the muscle knots and tension that came with the stress he endured.

"What's this scar from?" He remembered asking, referring to the raised patch of skin at the base of his neck. There was a small neat X of white scar tissue covering it, as if someone had cut him very carefully.

"It was called a fomorrah," Merlin had replied, shifting uncomfortably under his hands. "I don't want to talk about it."

Lancelot had of course respected his wishes, but now he wished he hadn't. He needed to know how Merlin had defeated the creature. It looked as if it had been cut out, so maybe that's all that had to be done. The fomorrah slithered inside his flesh just under his arm, and he felt a sharp sting as it moved upwards, into his shoulder proper. He glanced at his friends who walked ahead and behind him. No one was looking too closely, so he lifted his dagger out of its scabbard.

Lancelot raised the knife to his own shoulder, despite the spasm in his arm that caused his hand to shake. He could feel the Fomorrah under his skin clearly now, the pain and sick feeling as it twisted and slithered. He was now certain that it was trying to reach his neck, his spine, where it would latch on and control him. It was too close, it was too close already, he had to stop it now. Any farther and it would be fatal, he couldn't get it out safely once it was in his neck. Merlin might be able to, but he couldn't go near his friend, nor Arthur, not when they were weakened and vulnerable from almost drowning in the river. It was too dangerous, he couldn't risk hurting them. He had to kill either the fomorrah or himself or both before he reached them; that was the only way they would be safe. So before anyone could stop him, he drove the knife into his shoulder all the way to the hilt.

He felt the pain of it, but only distantly, his focus only on the feeling of the snake writhing under his skin. He'd failed, gods, he missed, it was still alive. But the movement must actually just have been a dying thrash, because then it stopped. Lancelot let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding, and the reality of the situation, that he had just stabbed himself, hit him. Along with the shouts of the other knights.

"Lancelot, what the fuck?!" Gwaine demanded at the same time as Percival grabbed his arms from behind to steady him and Elyan snatched ahold of his hands and wrenched them away from the knife, which was left embedded in his shoulder. "We were taking you to Merlin, what the hell did you have to go and stab yourself for?!"

"I had I had I had to stop it," Lancelot tried to explain, panting through the pain that was beginning to take him over. "I could feel it, it was moving in me, I had to kill it before it could-"

"You could have killed yourself!" Leon hissed angrily.

"Backup plan," Lancelot mumbled. "That was the backup plan."

Percival squeezed his shoulders and he realized he shouldn't have said that. Elyan looked stricken and Lancelot's throat felt tight. He really shouldn't have said that.

"Don't touch the knife, and get him sitting down," Gwaine instructed, the expression on his face hardening. "We shouldn't move him now, it's too great of a risk of him hurting himself more. I'll go get Merlin and bring him here."

Lancelot didn't know whether Gwaine was just worried about the knife in his shoulder shifting and cutting him more if he moved, or if the knight thought that he was going to try to stab himself again. He let Percival and Elyan guide him to kneel down at a relatively clean patch of ground, as he was already feeling a bit faint and admitted to himself that it would be better to be sitting down when he passed out. His head felt clearer though, less choked with panic. Leon stood guard beside them, hand on his sword, as if the danger was going to come from the outside instead of blood loss and muscle damage and infection. Elyan knelt in front of him and held onto Lancelot's hands. He tried to return the tight grip on them, but his right arm felt weak already.

"Why did you do that, Lancelot?" Elyan asked, voice gentle and sad instead of angry. Leon, however, looked to be fuming and his grip on his sword was white-knuckled. Percival sat behind him, so he wasn't able to see how the large knight felt.

"It's better that I hurt myself instead of one of you," Lancelot murmured. "I never want to hurt any of you."

"Did it not occur to you that you being hurt and risking yourself hurts us?" Leon asked testily.

"We already lost you once. Please don't make us do it again," Percival added more softly. His broad hand was splayed over Lancelot's back to help keep him upright, and every place where one of his finger tips flexed against his muscle served as a grounding place for the injured knight.

"You should have waited for Merlin," Leon said.

"Did you at least kill the snake?" Elyan asked, and Lancelot nodded. It was a relief to have something he could answer, as he felt like he was being peppered with accusations and concern from all sides. It wasn't easy to hear or handle, and it didn't get any better when Merlin and Arthur arrived. They were both half-dressed in damp clothes, but they didn't appear to be hurt or shivering. Lancelot sighed in relief, but broke off with a gasp as it sent a bolt of pain through his shoulder.

Merlin instantly dropped down beside Elyan, reaching for the knife in his shoulder. "And the snake is in here?" He asked. Evidently Gwaine had already briefed him about the situation.

"I killed it," Lancelot agreed. His chest hurt from more than just the knife in his shoulder, and when he coughed, he tasted blood in his mouth.

"Killing just one part of the snake doesn't help, it'll just grow back. We need to find the mother monster," Merlin said. "Arthur, you, Leon, Percival, and Elyan need to go find the hovel and kill anything you find with multiple heads. If it's not in there, the sorcerer might've fled with it. Gwaine will stay here and help me."

"Since when do you give the orders?" The king grumbled.

"Since your knight and friend's life is at stake and I'm the only one who actually knows what to do about it!" Merlin snapped back.

"I wasn't going to not do it!" Arthur said, his voice a sharp retort but his eyes softening when he looked down at Lancelot. A lot of things could be said about his arrogance and priorities, but no one could deny that he cared deeply for his soldiers. "Leon, lead the way back to where you found Lancelot."

The group of knights left, though Percival and Elyan kept glancing back over their shoulders as they walked away, and once they were out of earshot Merlin got down to business.

"Okay, Gwaine, sit behind him. Lancelot, I'm going to have you lay back so that your head and shoulders are in his lap," he instructed, already guiding them into position. Pain spiked though Lancelot's whole torso, and when he coughed, he watched as Merlin's eyes went wide in fear. The warlock wiped a cloth over his friend's lips, which felt wet now, and it came away red with blood. "Oh, of course there's internal bleeding, shit, I should have thought of that earlier," Merlin barked. He always did tend to get snappy when he was stressed.

"Can you heal that?" Gwaine asked. His hands clenched anxiously but gently in Lancelot's hair and around his shoulder.

"I have a spell that can heal him enough that he should survive, but first I have to get this knife out, and the fomorrah, or else all my energy will go into sealing that wound instead and it'll just make it worse," Merlin explained. Lancelot wondered how much practice the warlock had gotten with healing spells while he was gone, since he used to be awful at them. He didn't have enough breath to say that he was proud. "Lancelot? Can you breathe?"

"It- hurts- but- yes," he panted, forcing himself to respond because of the urgency in his friend's eyes.

"Okay. Good. Just keep breathing for me then, okay? This is gonna hurt, a lot, probably, but Gwaine will hold you still so you just have to focus on staying breathing."

"Okay," he huffed out. "I can- do that."

Merlin really hadn't been kidding when he said it would hurt. Taking the knife out wasn't so bad, as it was eased slowly from his shoulder with care not to cut him any further, and the worst part of it was just the shifting feeling that made Lancelot worry that the Fomorrah had come back to life. Blood welled from the wound, and Gwaine pressed a clean cloth down against it. Lancelot bit his lip to keep from crying out and focused on trying to breathe steadily through his nose. His vision was starting to grow gray around the edges, but he didn't know if that was because of the injuries themselves or lack of air as he struggled to breathe enough around the pain.

Whatever it was got so much worse as Merlin, who had no tweezers or other medical equipment with him, reached his long fingers into the wound to grab at the snake. Gwaine had to use all his strength to hold Lancelot's shoulders down as he thrashed against the intrusion.

"Lance, please, calm down, you're making it worse," the knight begged. The desperate plea just barely made it through to his friend, but a second later he felt the touch of Merlin's magic in his head. There was no spell associated with it, not even the sleeping spell Swefe Nu, just calming energy and the reassurance that there were things in this world far beyond Lancelot's understanding, and that one of them was his friend. He marshalled his willpower and held still for just long enough. Merlin's fingernails caught on the fomorrah's body instead of slipping off with the movement and slipperiness of scales, and he ripped the snake out.

More of that soothing energy instantly flooded through him, an internal healing light as bright as his best friend's golden eyes as he knelt above him. The residual squirming feeling in his chest and stomach faded, and breathing grew easier. It was all he could concentrate on, that power inside him, and his consciousness chased it even as it slowly faded, leaving him in darkness.

He gradually returned to awareness with the feeling of fingers running through his hair and soft voices talking.

"How did you heal when you were controlled?" Gwaine's voice asked, rumbling right behind Lancelot's head. "Did Gaius do it, or can you heal yourself?"

"There weren't any internal injuries for me," Merlin replied. He was right beside them too, judging by the closeness of his voice. "The fomorrah was inserted right into the back of my neck, so it didn't have to burrow through my body like it did with his."

"So why did the sorcerer do it this way? I mean, if he was planning on using Lancelot as a puppet, wouldn't it be better for him not to have internal injuries? He'd survive longer that way." Gwaine sounded disgusted at having to think about it in that way, and the hand petting Lancelot's hair paused to rest for a moment on his forehead before resuming.

"I don't know. My best guess is that he got bad instructions, or read the spell book wrong. Maybe he translated Inject as Ingest. Whatever it was, we're damned lucky he did it that way, because otherwise it would have taken effect immediately and Lancelot wouldn't have been able to take action against it or even warn us. I know this seems bad, but it could have been so much worse." The sorrow and regret in his voice made Lancelot's chest hurt in an entirely different way as he thought about his friend blaming himself for being mind controlled.

"I wish he had just warned us, instead of stabbing himself," Gwaine said bitterly.

"I couldn't let it hurt you," Lancelot managed to mumble, finally prying his eyes open. His head and shoulders still laid in the other knight's lap, with Merlin crouched beside him. The warlock was pressing more fabric against his wound, but he must've been using his magic to numb the area, because the injured knight felt the pressure of it but no pain.

"We weren't exactly defenseless, Lance. We could have taken care of ourselves if it came to that, and with a lot less damage to you too," Gwaine retorted, but gently. "If you'd told us that you were too worried to wait until we got to Merlin, Percival could've knocked you out and carried you or we could have taken your weapons away and tied you up if you wanted."

"As much as you hate the idea of being controlled again, it's nothing compared to what it would be like for us, for me, to lose you again," Merlin added. His voice was choked with emotion and his golden eyes wouldn't meet Lancelot's gaze. The injured knight didn't know how to respond to that, as he knew his assertion that Merlin's life was worth more than his own wouldn't be taken well, so he just reached out to grab his friend's hand. Pain shot through his shoulder at the movement, though, and Gwaine gently pressed his arm back down before he made contact.

"Lay still, you're still hurt," he scolded.

"And it might not be over either, if they haven't killed the mother fomorrah," Merlin said. "If Arthur and the others don't return soon with news, I'll have to go and do it myself." He sounded so weary at the prospect that Lancelot found himself praying more for Merlin's sake than his own that they had already disposed of the beast. "In the meantime though, let's get you sitting up so I can bandage your shoulder properly."

Gwaine did most of the work in helping him upright, since Lancelot was still exhausted and in pain despite being mostly healed from his internal injuries, and let him lean against his chest to keep him that way as Merlin began to wrap bandages under his arm and around his body. 

Arthur and the other knights arrived as the physician was finishing up. Percival and Leon each held onto the arm of a bedraggled old man who had his hands tied together behind him. The sorcerer. He glared at Lancelot and Arthur, but behind his eyes Merlin saw sadness as well as anger.

"Is he alright?" Leon demanded first as he looked over at Lancelot, less angry than he had been before and more obviously worried. It was clear he wanted to get closer and see for himself that his friend was alive, but couldn't because of his duty to restrain the sorcerer.

"He will be as long as you killed the fomorrah," Merlin replied. That wasn't strictly true, since there was still the possibility of life threatening infection and fever to deal with, especially because of the nature of the wounds and the fact that he'd had a snake inside him, but the internal injuries had been mostly healed and they didn't need to know about those anyway.

"We did," Arthur confirmed. "Randall here led us right to it."

"Rendell," the sorcerer corrected.

"Oh, I'm sorry we didn't pronounce your name right after you tried to kill our friend," Elyan snapped.

"I didn't want to kill him," Rendell countered. "He would've been fine if he'd played along. The fomorrah would have released him after his task was completed."

"And that task was?" Merlin prompted. From the way Lancelot looked at the sorcerer intently, it was clear that he wanted to know what he had almost been made to do.

"He was supposed to kill the King and Queen! The Pendragon family is illegitimate; Uther was a conqueror, not the rightful heir, and the Purge only shows that he's an outsider that doesn't share our values! He and all his children are the ones who should be purged! The rightful rulers will rise up once Arthur and Morgana are both dead! They-"

He continued on this tirade against the crown until Percival shook him and told him to shut up. Lancelot went even paler than he previously had been at the admission that he would have been made to hurt Arthur and Gwen had he not escaped the fomorrah. Although he had suspected that he would have been used as an assassin, hearing it confirmed, and laced with so much vitriol at that, still shook him. Gwaine rubbed his uninjured shoulder gently at the same time as Elyan knelt down to hug him very carefully.

"Lancelot, are you able to travel back to Camelot?" Arthur asked, to which the injured knight nodded. He would need support, but he knew his friends wouldn't mind helping him, and he very much wanted to be home.

"Why don't you go ahead, and we'll follow after?" Gwaine suggested. That way Lancelot wouldn't have to be close to the sorcerer as he was transported back to Camelot for trial.

"Good idea," Arthur agreed. "Stay in earshot, and give us a shout if you need to slow down or stop."

"Yes sir," Lancelot mumbled. Merlin and Gwaine helped him carefully to his feet as Elyan hovered anxiously near them. The injured knight was steady enough that he just needed someone on one side of him once he was standing up, so Gwaine eventually let go. He and Elyan stayed close though, flanking the other two men at front and back. Surrounded by his friends, people that wanted him with them more than they cared for their own safety, Lancelot was struck by the sudden realization that he'd found a cause that wasn't just worth dying over, but one worth living for. He didn't want to abandon that cause, his family, not if he had a choice in the matter, and they damn well weren't going to let him leave if they could help it either. With a silent prayer that nothing would try to take him away from them for a while, Lancelot let his friends lead him back home.

[thelittlestcheshire]

Self Para 005: The Reminders Pull the Floor From Your Feet

Note: For starters, this takes place on Saturday. This involves the Leo plot, and for the most part it’s...  lots of Ches’s thought process leading up to her visiting Leo. Any interactions with people are lead up / not really... the majority. So please, tread carefully. I was careful to avoid going too deep into her more... brutal thought processes in hopes of ensuring it’s not too triggering but given the context I do feel a need to mention it. I do discuss her finding her brother after his attempt a little bit too, so, please pay heed to the tws and if you think it may be an issue, I strongly urge you skip this self para. I love you guys, and your safety is the biggest priority always <3

TWs: Suicide / Suicide Attempts, Decapitation / Murder (mentioned in a comment about how displeased Leo will be to see her), Hanging, Amputation, Ches’s thought process while shopping does include her making considerations about what she can buy Leo can’t hurt himself with so I don’t know how to tag that but I am aware it could be triggering.

For once, Ches didn’t know how she was expected to react, but she was sure it didn’t align with how she currently felt as she tore through her wardrobe to try to find something to wear. What even was appropriate to wear today? Colors were too cheery, white too saintly, black was a staple in her wardrobe and entirely off the table. Everything in her closet was practically getting thrown without care as she desperately tried to find anything. Even as her front door opens, she doesn’t glance to see who was coming in until she hears Balo squeak as she tries to avoid yet another thrown object.

“Sorry! I just was wondering if I could maybe borrow a pair of shorts?” The blonde squeals and the redhead pauses her frantic search for something appropriate to wear. Was Balo really trying to carry on like normal when her friend was in the hospital after trying to kill himself? Sure, people were saying it was an accident, but that didn’t mean it was.

Emmett had told everyone it was an accident after his attempt, a prank gone wrong, that she had to cut him down from the ceiling after. And at this point, she simply didn’t believe in accidents.

“Of course, they’re in the dresser. Let me know if there’s something worth wearing to the hospital in there while you’re at it.” She glances away from what she was doing to wave her friend toward where the dresser was. She would have to rearrange the room to the way she liked it eventually, but she hadn’t exactly been happy about much of anything since they arrived in New Zealand. 

“Is going to see Leo a good idea?”

Balo’s question throws her off, as it was one she had been asking herself over and over again. She still didn’t know the answer herself, and she just turns away from her friend to go back through her closet, tossing yet more things in the direction of her bed as she fails to find something worth wearing. “This is my fault. I have to go.” She finally speaks as she tosses the last item of clothing in the closet onto the floor. “If I had done more....”

“It was an accident, remember? Just breathe, okay? You dress like you usually would. Maybe ask if I’m allowed to visit if you think he’s up to it?” She shakes her head, grabbing the shorts she came for from the drawer before she tosses a pair of ripped jeans and a tank top her way. Ches catches it, grateful for the answer so she could move onto the next method to tear herself apart with. “Just promise me you’ll be gentle with him. He’s going through a lot.”

“I’m not going to be mean. I figured he might like some comfy clothes and stuff. If someone else already thought of it, great, but...” She glances at her shoe rack as she talks. Maybe she should wear sneakers instead of heels for once, it’d make her look shorter and left her feeling more vulnerable, but perhaps it’d ease his fears of her just showing up. She doubted she was the first person he wanted to see; in fact, she was likely the very last, perhaps Balo was right, and this was a horrible idea.

But she needed to do this. How else was she going to live with the guilt?

“Well, if you need to talk later, come find me. I’ve gotta go, but I love you.”

“I love you too.” And with those words, Ches was alone with her thoughts again. She takes a deep breath as she walks over to her dresser to set the clothes she was going to wear down. Stepping over multiple piles of discarded clothes carefully as she realizes just how much money she’d just carelessly thrown to the floor as if it didn’t matter. Perhaps, in the long run, it didn’t. Still, she kneels down and starts to sort through the discarded clothes on the floor, slowly beginning to put everything back onto hangers. How was she supposed to make intentions clear from the moment he saw her? 

Maybe the gifts would help, but she was just going to have to accept that whatever she did, Leo was likely to be hostile. Emmett was after his attempt, and he liked her. Ches was entirely unwelcome, and she knew that, but she supposed that was well deserved. If the roles were reversed, she would have made Leo’s visit a living hell for daring to breathe near her after a failed attempt. He had every right to do the same to her now. She carefully puts the last dress back where it belongs, going through the motions of getting dressed and making herself presentable, throwing her hair up in a ponytail, grabbing her bag, and just leaving the dorms. 

She would have to go to the store and try to find things Leo would be allowed to have. She was already starting a shopping list of things in her head, things he’d need, things he’d like. 

-------------------

Could she trust Leo with colored pencils, or was she going to have to stick with crayons? As Ches looks over the shelf of Crayola products, she ponders it for a few moments before she grabs both the washable crayons and the twistable colored pencils, glancing around before she tosses the bath crayons in too. She always got her worst thoughts in the shower. Maybe giving him a creative outlet he could take with him would be beneficial. On second thought, she tosses a box in for herself too. Her roommate was simply going to have to fucking deal with it.

The notebook had to have no wires, nothing he could pull off of it and cause harm. Any bags needed to be paper so he’d be allowed to have them. The slippers had to be sturdy yet stringless. She’d broken into his room in an attempt to figure out sizes, so she was hoping she was doing well on the clothing. She didn’t want to bring anything of his, not only because it’d require her to be honest that she had broken into his bedroom, but because she already knew how easily things got lost. The last thing she needed was to grab something that mattered and something happening to it. That was a problem she had no intention of being blamed for.

What else could be needed? Pre-paid call cards just in case what she’d read was wrong, and he wasn’t allowed to have his cell phone. If he did, she supposed it never hurt to have prepaid international calling cards either way. 

He liked pen and ink, not paint, right?

For a moment, she tries to remember the art of his she had seen, none of it had been paintings, but maybe that was just simply because he couldn’t carry it around. She could ask, offer to make a second trip. She tosses comfy clothes into the cart as she goes, trying to find the most comfortable stringless things she could find, socks and underwear, because people probably weren’t thinking of it when they grabbed stuff. Toothbrush, he definitely needed a toothbrush. And inpatient units were usually cold, so a massive plush blanket probably help. He probably would be allowed to have zippers. Shit, what was his jeans size? Maybe Elizabeth would know, although was it a good idea to bother her at work with how busy she was. She glances at the racks for a minute, considering it for a moment.

Stuffed animals were usually taken in her experience, but if she could prove he wouldn’t hurt himself with it, maybe getting him something he was allowed to punch would be nice. After all, he did seem to enjoy his fights. Was Winnie the Pooh punchable? Balo was onto something when she said Leo looked like Christopher Robin. And he was a baby toy, so if Leo got him apart and found a way to hurt himself with it, it would be a feat. Still, she considers it a moment longer and puts an elephant in the cart instead.

She could always come back for it later if he’d appreciate the joke. What else would he like? Would the ward he was on allow her to drop by and grab him fast food? She probably could find a McDonalds’.

She takes a deep breath, already trying to find the number to find out. Hopefully, they’d allow outside food and drink. After all, what made someone’s day brighter than cheap junk food? 

-------------------

[To Momma Everett 😍😍:] I’m dropping by to see Leo, so I’m gonna put my phone on vibrate to avoid him ripping my head off, but I love you so so so so so much, and please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. I’ve got everything handled here, I promise. I’m going to tell the front desk I’m your daughter, so that should get me in long enough to drop him off clothes and stuff. Hopefully, he won’t correct them? 🤞

Ches puts her phone into her purse after she’s done, tossing the bag over her shoulder before she goes around to the trunk of her rental to grab the stuff. It felt like it wasn’t enough, but it wasn’t as if she could bring him nearly as much as she wanted to, just essentials and a few small things in hopes of making him smile. She goes to the hospital’s front desk, explaining why she was here and that she had no idea where she was supposed to be going. As they led her in the direction of where he was, she tries to take deep breaths. Leo was going to kill her for this, wasn’t he? Maybe she should have dropped by to steal a kiss from Elliot before she left before he literally ripped her skull from her body.

Of course, nothing could have prepared her for what was to come after she got on the unit. She hands over the stuff to the nurse’s station for them to check over, insisting it’d be better if she waited to go in to see him until she had it back, and for a brief moment, she sees Leo, and everything comes crashing down. Where had his arm gone? Why hadn’t anyone told her?

“Your brother didn’t tell you.” The nurse guesses, and she glances over to the man and the art supplies she’d brought. Was it a dick move? Perhaps, but she wasn’t going to let anyone even dare suggest he couldn’t do art. It was only a matter of adjusting how he approached it, and suddenly she didn’t care if she had to import a physical therapist willing to try to help him. If anyone tried to tell Leo he wasn’t doing something, they would have to fight her. 

“No, but that’s okay. He can still whomp me for bringing him children’s bath crayons after he gets home. He’ll be fine.”

If the nurse says anything else, she doesn’t listen. She just quietly waits for him to sticker the stuff and hand it back to her before she enters to see Leo, trying to keep her hands from shaking as she hopes that for once, maybe she wouldn’t say the wrong thing to him. 

[sky-scribbles]

I had a request for soft Steelstep and it... got out of hand. So have ~1700 words of ‘we both know I’m the villain’ angst with some softness mixed in. Retribution spoilers, m!Sidestep x Chen. Tw: mentions of animal injury/harm (very non-detailed and none happens in the fic), discussion of suicidal ideation. 

This was not part of the plan. Walking Spoon together was not supposed to end up with you in Sidestep’s apartment.

You correct yourself. Jalal’s apartment. Calling him Sidestep was defence, a way of keeping distance between you, and there’s no point in defences anymore. Not when you essentially accused him of being Eidolon, and he essentially confessed to it, and you more than essentially kissed him.

I can’t stop, he said. You can’t understand. And yet you haven’t removed the label from his shelf in fridge. You still let him near your dog. You still look at him and feel your insides heat and twist. Jalal being the scourge of Los Diablos should be a deal-breaker, and yet it isn’t. What will be?

No. You don’t want an answer to that.

So you’re here, in his home, with Spoon at your side. And for a second you’re not sure whether you’ve entered an apartment or a rainforest. The hallway ahead of you is lined with pot plants: ivy, succulents, flowers in white and purple and yellow. Hanging baskets dangling from the ceiling, window boxes in rows on the walls. Jalal stands among the greenery, watching you with a nervous smile - and suddenly, you know why he brought you here.

Telepathy, he once told you, is usually no more intrusive than seeing someone’s apartment. But he’s always had that window into your character, and you’ve had nothing in return. So he invited you here. He’s baring his home to you, baring himself, putting you on equal footing. He can’t give you an explanation for being Eidolon, but he’s giving you this.

So you file this information away – he likes to see things grow – and grab Spoon by the collar. Because he seems very interested in sniffing a cactus. ‘You grow all these, then?’

‘No,’ Jalal says. ‘They just, um, sprout from the walls.’

He’s joking. That’s new. Your smile is probably a touch bemused, but Jalal returns it, and beckons you down the corridor. ‘Before I let Spoon into the garden, how is he with other animals?’

You duck under a dangling spider plant and follow. ‘He was trained to chase. If you have a cat –’

‘Not a cat, no. Have I never told you about Maisy?’

You shake your head. He smiles again, wider time, and leads you into the living room – just as plant-bedecked, the gaps between greenery covered in posters from movies and TV shows. The Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, and there’s a cartoon you don’t recognise, kids using some sort of elemental magic. And a few more gaps filled, oddly, with stuffed animals. A heavily patched elephant on the bookcase, a bear that’s lost an eye and had it replaced with a button.

‘I find them in charity stores,’ Jalal explains, moving to unlock the door to the garden. ‘Or the trash, sometimes. I like fixing them up.’

Another piece of information: he mends things. Which you already knew, from all the times he helped you fix your mods back when he was Sidestep. The memories bob to the surface of your mind – his deft, freckled hands, so close to your skin – and something jolts through you, like a pulse of electricity.

Your eyes scan the room for a distraction, and settle on the toys. ‘Ortega has a bear on her desk with patches like that.’

Jalal nods. ‘Yeah, I… I gave her that. I’m surprised she held onto him for so long.’

‘Of course she did. She never stopped holding onto you.’

You wonder if he’ll protest; insist that she doesn’t care that much, or that she should have forgotten him long ago. Instead, his gaze flicks away, and his hands return to the door. Unsurprising. You’ve rarely seen him argue when giving up is the easier option.

Did he become Eidolon because he was tired of staying quiet and being stepped on? Or is it a new way of giving in? To greed, or to rage, or to despair?

You set the questions aside for now. You can learn that he likes plants and Tolkien and sewing from his apartment. You’re much less likely to learn what turned the man who fixed your mods into the man who put your friends in hospital. That will take work, and time.

So you pull Spoon away before he can drool on anything, and follow Jalal into the garden. It’s a real one, since he’s on the ground floor: more flowers, herb bushes, a wooden bench. And a pond, containing one small white duck – which launches itself from the water and waddles over to Jalal at an impressively fast pace.

‘This is Maisy,’ he explains, kneeling to pick her up. ‘I found her in a park, about… two years ago, I think. Her wing was broken, so I took her home and looked after her. I hoped she’d start flying again, but she never did, and she didn’t want to leave, so…’

‘Aren’t there wildlife shelters for that?’

He turns to you, looking a little like Herald does whenever you admonish him. ‘Well… yeah. I know you shouldn’t just take animals, but if they decided she was too hurt to heal...’ He pulls Maisy a little closer to his chest. ‘This city isn’t kind to broken things. I thought they’d do what everyone here does to things that are too wounded to fix.’

Ah.

You look at him. Scars weaving up his neck and crisscrossing his hands. Eyes shadowed and weary.  The constant hesitation in his speech, his wordless backing-away from arguments: the habits of a man used to being ignored. Scared of being thrown away.

‘You wanted to protect her,’ you say, and your mind finishes what your lips don’t – because no one did the same for you, when you were broken. So why her? Why nurture her, care for her, and not for yourself?

Behind his glasses, Jalal’s eyes turn away again, and you know he heard your thoughts. His pretence at having lost his telepathy is feeble.

And he must know that. Because the next thing he does is answer your question.

‘When I found her,’ he says, running a gentle hand across Maisy’s back and not looking up at you, ‘she was all huddled up on the ground. She had her eyes shut, like it would hurt too much to open them. She’d given up. She didn’t think she could be helped.’ He swallows. Bends down to kiss the feathered head. ‘She was wrong, but I think I understand why she gave up. When you’re hurt like that, giving up’s easier. I mean, there’s not really a point to fighting when you’re already falling, is there?’

There’s a faint flush under his freckles; he knows he’s too obviously not talking about the duck anymore. ‘If she’d tried to fly again, it would have come to the same thing, right? She’d have crashed, and the only difference would have been that she got more hurt for trying. If she thought it was going to end… I can understand her wanting to let it happen. Without that pain.’

You close your eyes. Just for a moment, long enough to process this. Here’s your answer, then, his reason why.

He never stopped falling from that tower. He believes that even trying to rise back up is a lost and painful cause. So instead, he became Eidolon: a way of cutting his parachute strings so he could hit the ground faster.

Is he really willing to drag you all down with him?

Ortega and Herald, beaten into hospital. Argent, possessed and controlled. And you? What will he do to you? You don’t believe he would kill you, you don’t believe he would kill anyone – but you do believe he will steal and wreak chaos until he forces your hand. You believe he’d break your heart to put his own heartbreak to rest.

And yet.

He brought you here. He put the best parts of himself – the fixer, the nurturer – on display. Then he confessed the worst, offered you an explanation. You can’t understand, he said, in those first few breathless moments after he kissed you. But you’re here, and – while you’re less than impressed with everything he’s done –  you do understand.

Because he gave you a chance to understand. And that’s not self-destruction. That’s taking a step forward, and he took it on his own.

You nod, so that he knows you’ve understood. Then you reach out and run a careful finger along Maisy’s head. ‘Shall we see how she gets along with Spoon?’

It’s a strange starting point, introducing your dog to his duck. But it’s a new connection. A new relationship. Perhaps this can soften the pain for him, so that it doesn’t hurt so much when finally reaches out to stop his fall. You can’t just pick him up and save him, like he did to Maisy. But you can hold onto Spoon while he sniffs Maisy’s head, then licks her, then slumps down and lets her nestle against his side.

‘She likes him,’ Jalal says, smiling. And then, fiddling with the hem of his sweater, ‘This might turn out all right.’

And it might. It might yet.

‘You’re right. Los Diablos isn’t gentle to broken things.’ You look at him, and remember the care with which he always fixed your mods, the way he ran soft fingertips over your scars after he kissed you. ‘I think you are, though.’

He holds your gaze only for a moment, of course, before looking away again. Bitter defeat in his eyes. Unconvinced. He’s out of the habit of being gentle to himself, but habits can be relearned. Like your replacement arm, it’ll be stiff and awkward at first, but constant practice will make it smoother, until it becomes a reflex.

That’s something to work on, then. For both of you. Together.

[bytheangell]

it runs in the family

(Read on AO3) (( A/N: I know there’s some debate on how the ‘tapping into one another’s feelings’ works with the parabatai bond, so for the sake of this fic we’re going with: you can totally do it, either consciously or with them just seeping through when they’re strong enough.)) (also TW: coping mechanisms that can definitely be inferred as self-harm)

It isn’t often that Isabelle is the one holding everything together. Jace is the fighter, the first on the field and the last to leave it during every mission. He never shies away from taking a hit to protect her, or Alec, or any of the other Shadowhunters, for that matter. Sure, sometimes he’s a little too brash, but it’s just who he is and she loves him for it. And Alec? Alec is a born leader and her big brother through and through. Even if he wasn’t technically her commanding officer there’s no way he’d let his guard down for even a second if she might be in danger. They both know she’s more than capable in handling herself but that doesn’t stop his older sibling instincts from kicking in the moment she’s in trouble.

It isn’t just in the field, though - they’re there for her for the emotional moments as well. Jace takes her out for comfort food and threatens to beat up any person who ever dares to break her heart, and Alec offers a shoulder to cry on more than once after she finds out about Robert’s affair, or after their mother’s de-runing. Both of them stay by her side (when she allowed them to) during the ugliest moments of her Yin Fen recovery. She has no doubts that they’re both there for her through thick and thin, no matter what.

So when she starts to notice them spiraling - Jace first and Alec close behind - she’s caught off guard. She isn’t used to being the one in the position to help. This might actually be the first time she has enough of her life together to even be able to consider acting as someone else’s support instead of the other way around.

She tries to reach out to them, of course - hoping to start a conversation innocently enough and branch into a more serious discussion. It never works. They deflect, grow defensive, and shut down in true Lightwood fashion. So she falls back for the first few days, hoping they’ll sort themselves out and settle like they always have in the past.

But this is unlike anything they’ve faced before, and they don’t settle. In fact, things only go from bad to worse.

After just a few days she can’t continue to stay silent. She offers help, insists they lean on her. They won’t have it. They won’t talk to her, doubtless trying to protect her, but that doesn’t mean she can’t see the way they both change after the night of the explosion. They’re both irritable and hiding in their work;Jace is out on patrol more hours than not.  Every time she sees Jace his eyes lose a little more light, a little more life. He volunteers for the most dangerous missions and his actions become reckless. Alec hides it better, at least, but the unrest and guilt he feels through their parabatai bond weighs on him... and that’s on top of the guilt he feels over Magnus’ loss of magic. He tries to be strong for Jace’s sake, for Magnus’, and for her own, but Isabelle can see him cracking at the edges and wonders how long it’ll be until he breaks.

It’s less than a week before Jace snaps. She sees the broken mirror in the bathroom, shards of glass littering the floor, and follows the trail the drops of blood leading out of the room make though she already knows where they’ll end. Unsurprisingly she finds herself standing outside Jace’s room, and opens the door without knocking. It looks like a hurricane tore through it. Anything on a shelf or a tabletop is now on the floor. Chairs sit askew, some knocked over entirely, and there’s a mark on the wall with the same tell-tale drying crimson that brings her here.

“Oh, Jace.” She says softly, the name escaping her lips in a painful sigh. She shuts the door again and retreats, asking him later about his bandaged hand.

“Hit the punching bag a little too hard,” he shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Jace-” she starts to argue. He can’t keep lying to her like this, he needs to let her in.

“Drop it.”

There’s a dangerous edge to his voice, one she isn’t sure she’s ever heard directed at her before.

It silences her immediately and she turns away before she says something she’ll regret.

She’s walking by the training room when the sound of somebody actually hitting the punching bag a little too hard draws her attention. Spotting Alec in the room isn’t surprising; seeing him in jeans instead of workout clothes (the button-down shirt he was wearing earlier tossed to the side), however,  is definitely unusual. He obviously didn’t plan on ending up here. The next thing that catches her off-guard is the way he’s beating the bag - because he isn’t just training, he’s attacking it, sending it swinging every which way with a force more akin to rage than his usual frustration. His breathing is heavy and Isabelle can’t quite tell if the moisture on his face is only sweat or tears, too.

“Alec?” She tries hesitantly from the doorway. He doesn’t even register her presence, letting out a noise that’s as much a scream as it is a cry while his hits intensify; even from a distance Isabelle can see his knuckles split.  “Alec! ALEC!” Before she knows what she’s doing she’s crossing the room, grabbing her brother by the shoulder to pull him away from the punching bag.

Alec, startled by the sudden touch in the heat of the moment he’s lost in, spins toward her with the swing of a fist she narrowly dodges, the arm falling to his side when he sees her and stares with confusion.

“Alec what the hell ,” Izzy gasps, eyes wide.

“You should know better than to sneak up on someone like that,” he huffs, like this is her fault somehow.

“I was yelling your name.” She points out, eyes dropping to his hands. “Let me see that,” she demands, pulling out her stele.

“It’s fine. I deal with it later.”

“Alec, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I’m fine, just drop it.” He snaps, eyes narrowing, and Izzy’s struck with a moment of dejavu.

“You too? You sound like Jace.” No sooner do the words leave her mouth does Isabelle pause. “Alec, you’re not--”

“It’s fine,” he repeats for a third time, but he isn’t talking about his hand this time. “I’m just keeping tabs on him. It isn’t like I can keep half of it out anyway.”

She knows what he’s doing now - why he’s down here with a fury she isn’t used to seeing in this brother. “Tapping into the bond while he’s like this isn’t good for you, Alec.” She knows he means well. He wants to make sure Jace is alright, and if he isn’t, Alec wants to know exactly how not alright he is. But that doesn’t mean he can shoulder the pain they’re both feeling at the same time, especially not if this reaction is any proof.

“I’ve got it under control, Izzy.” He sighs. “I wish I could say the same for Jace. I’m worried about him. I know he’s done stupid things before, but I’m really worried this time.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, looking at him with dark eyes full of concern. “I know the feeling.”

---

When Jace volunteers himself for a high-risk mission Izzy isn’t surprised to find Alec agreeing to go right behind him. Jace glares, vaguely aware he’s being babysat, but Alec pretends not to notice when he makes some off-handed comment about taking the reins on anything involving the escaped convicts. Of course Izzy knows better, and with just a moment’s pause for consideration she’s rounding out the patrol by throwing her own name onto the roster.

“What?” She asks with an innocent shrug. “I’ve been spending too much time in the Weapons room. Don’t want to get rusty, do I?”

She doesn’t know what to expect with the three of them out on the field together but no amount of imagining could prepare her for what goes down. Jace, running out ahead without a plan, nearly getting himself killed in his recklessness. Alec thinking quick to step in and save the situation but not quick enough to stop Jace from getting hurt. She made the mistake of thinking they could hold it together when it mattered, when lives were at stake. She was wrong.

And so Isabelle, despite her best intentions, now stands helpless at a distance before she’s able to step in to take control and finish the job. She listens as Jace yells at her and walks away, not even trying to hear reason.

She wants to help him, but instead she feels herself losing him more and more with every step away from her he takes... and she can’t think of a single thing she can do to stop it.

---

Isabelle has a little extra work to do for her end of the report after Jace’s actions in the field, but once it’s done she’s eager to hand it off to Alec and be done for the day. She stops by Alec’s office, only giving one short knock before making her way inside like she normally does.

“Hey Alec, I finished up the forensi--” she starts, already holding out the paperwork she came to drop off in her hands when she notices the way Alec brings both hands immediately up to his face and turns away from her.

“Hey Iz,” he manages, and though she can hear him fighting to keep his tone even there’s a crack he doesn’t manage to control.

“Alec what’s wrong?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

“Is that the report? Here, I’ll take it,” he swings around in his chair, eyes red and face lightly flushed, but to his credit he manages an almost convincing neutral expression.

“Alec,” she repeats with pleading eyes, holding the papers away from him now so he can’t reach them. The report can wait.  

“It’s just… you saw him out there, Iz. It’s so overwhelming all the time, it just never stops. The guilt, the anger, the frustration… he can’t keep going on like this.”

“And neither can you.” She doesn’t just mean the parabatai bond either, and the pointed look she gives him makes that very clear. “Clary isn’t your fault as much as it isn’t his. Magnus either. You can’t keep carrying the weight for both of you.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Alec mutters.

“No, it isn’t. None of this is easy for me. I’m watching the two of you lose control more and more each day and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. I might not be bound to you but I’m still your sister and I can’t keep watching my brothers self-destruct at arm’s length, it isn’t fair!”

Alec falls very quiet after her outburst and for a moment or two Izzy is positive she said the wrong thing and that he’s about to kick her out and never speak to her again. Maybe it’s selfish of her, but she refuses to allow herself to fall into the same pit as Alec and Jace - she wants to help them, but she won’t allow them to drag her down into silent denial with them in the process.

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am.” She allows the briefest flicker of a smile before her phone is in her hand, dialing a number and bringing it up to her ear. “Alec’s office, now.” She hangs up before the person on the other end can argue and a few minutes later Jace is standing in the doorway, hesitating at the sight of them.

“Emergency Lightwood Sibling meeting. Shut the door.”

They might not want to let her help them but she’s beyond giving them the option. She’s been going about this all wrong - they didn’t need her to stand by and be supportive, to try and talk and offer condolences and reassurances. They didn’t need her to be there waiting for whenever they decide to come around and talk to her. What they need - and what she fully intends to give them - is a reality check.

“I know I’m your kid sister, but I’m not some fragile little girl. I’m your equal. Both of you . And you need to start talking to me and letting me help before this gets out of control and someone dies out there. Again . What happened with Lilith is neither of your faults, but if this keeps up and something else happens, this time it will be on you.”

Isabelle knows the words are harsh but she also knows that Alec takes his ability to lead very seriously, as does Jace. Even though she almost can’t bring herself to say them, once the words are out and she sees the way Jace diverts his gaze towards the floor and Alec shifts away from her in his chair it’s clear that they have the desired effect.

“And if you aren't going to talk to me, at least talk to someone, because neither of you can keep going on like this. Look at you.”

She looks pointedly between Jace and Alec, her gaze dropping down to Alec’s newly re-bandaged hands. Jace’s eyes narrow at the telltale site of it knowing, as it always is with Alec, that anything he doesn’t immediately fix with an iratze is intentional. “I thought you stopped that,” Jace says quietly.

Alec glances down at the scarring cuts still healing on Jace's own hands, left over from the other day’s outburst. “I didn't think you would start.”

It dawns on Jace what Alec is talking about and he looks close to tears, mirroring the state Isabelle found Alec in minutes before.

“I'm sorry. You shouldn't have… I shouldn't have let it get bad enough for you to feel, I didn't realize…” As if for the first time, Jace seems to be thinking of how his actions are affecting more than just him and Izzy knows she’s finally getting through. This is the push they needed, to pull themselves together not for their own sakes, but for each other’s.

“See? This is what happens when we push each other away. We’re supposed to be a team. No, screw that, we’re a family . Neither of you have to deal with all of this alone. Let. Me. Help. You.”  

Alec and Jace mumble something and Izzy crosses her arms over her chest, eyebrow raised. “What was that?” “Okay.” “Fine.”

Come the slightly louder replies, and she allows herself the briefest flicker of a smile at her victory. It doesn’t last long, knowing the circumstances that made it necessary.

“I’m going to call mom and see if she wants to have us all over for dinner tonight like she’s been talking about all week. No cases. No patrols. No paperwork. One night to unwind and recharge. Deal?”

She can’t help but sound a little too eager as she makes the suggestion because it’s as much for her as it is for them. She needs this. She misses her brothers, her mother, her family . Not a day has gone by since the explosion that she didn’t consider how easily she could’ve lost any one of them and it’s a thought that keeps her up at night. Who knows how many more chances they’ll have to be together like this? She always knew it was part of the job… they all did. But it’s never felt as real as it does now.

If they can sense the desperation in her tone they’re kind enough not to mention it.

“That sounds really nice, actually.” Jace is the first to agree. And then, after a pause, adds, “Thanks, Izzy.”

“It does, she’ll really like that.” Alec agrees. “Thanks.”

Neither of them have to say that it isn’t the idea of dinner they’re taking her for.

“You’re welcome.”

It isn’t going to be easy, and it isn’t going to be quick, but they’re going to make it through this. Maybe a little worse for wear, but when aren’t they these days? So long as they stick together they can handle whatever the world - Shadow or otherwise - throws at them.

Starting tomorrow.  

[admirable-mairon]

Update on my life and whatnot

Some of you have asked/wondered what happened in my life and just....... How I’m holding up. 

Something that’s always worked for me is to simply write everything down in a long rant post, and so that is what I will do. Both for those who are curious, but also so that I will be able to put this down without having to worry about it bombarding me in every waking moment of every day. 

There will be few happy things under the cut. TW for abuse (physical and verbal), trauma, threats of self-harm and suicide, mental illness, insults and harsh language.  Despite all that, I promise that the post ends on a good note

Alright so where do I begin.......

Back in April I started going on Tinder and Her - Two dating apps. Not because I was looking, per se, but because I wanted to push myself out of my comfort zone and hopefully gain some form of confidence. I just wanted to try this whole ‘dating app’ thing out. 

And well, it went........ It went better than I had expected. I met a person that I fell in fast love with, something that was ENTIERLY new for me. Sure, when I was together with my ex I loved him - and I still do - but I had never felt this intense... I don’t know. I had never felt anything this intense before. I both jot this down to this being my first ever girlfriend, AND the fact that I had gotten my diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder earlier the same year (a really short and simplified description of that would be a lack of intuitive nuance.Emotions are either really bad or really good - not in between on a spectrum). 

Fast forward and as the end of 2018 was creeping closer I had moved in with them, I had gotten myself a dog (whom I love very much still), we had a bigger apartment than before, I only have one year left at uni, they started talking about marriage, etc.....

And then, on the 28th of December 2018, my life completely shattered.  They threatened to hit me and physically forced me to not leave their presence. 

For clarification, my ex, and abuser, is a gender-fluid lesbian whose prefered pronouns are They, which is what I will refer to them as. 

So how the hell did it all come about?

Well - My grandpa died last summer, my grandma lives in a home now, and so my mother is cleaning out their old house. Naturally, she asked me and my brother whether there were any things, furniture etc, that we wanted to keep. I said “I’m interested in at least one of those” and left it at that. 

As I told them when they woke though, around noon, they immideately grew..... Intimidating. Scary. Turns I wasn’t allowed to keep that piece of furniture, and the fact that it had belonged to my grandfather “didn’t matter”. I refused to take that kind of talk, especially first thing in the morning, and told them that the discussion was over. I didn’t want to talk about it. 

Once again, I was not allowed to say no. They kept going, and seeing as they ignored my verbal ‘no’, I took up my phone to scroll around and show them physically that I wouldn’t keep talking about it.... At which point they reached forward to take my phone from me. 

My rapist used to do that - my latest abuser - and I reacted on instinct, and took it back. Seeing as my nails are long I accidentally scratched them, which they used against me even as I tried to apologize. 

“You’re lucky I’m not like you, or I would have broken up with you now, because you hurt me physically”

“I know - I’m sorry! I panicked when you tried to take my phone!”

“Well that doesn’t matter. I didn’t try to take it, I tried to push it down. I COULD have just taken it and thrown it to the other side of the room and into a wall”

Aka I should be happy that it wasn’t worse. 

Feeling REALLY unsettled now I tried to leave the bedroom, but I wasn’t allowed to. They PHYSICALLY placed themself in front of me and blocked my path, towering over me and refusing to let me leave. They physically blocked the doorway, but seeing as I’m stronger and heavier I managed to push myself out through a surge of adrenaline, and I ran to the bathroom so I could lock myself in until it was safe. 

That didn’t happen. They ran after me and forced the door open, not letting me tug it closed no matter what I did. At this point I was desperate and screaming at them to leave me alone, but they refused. I didn’t get a choice in the matter. So finally I screamed what had been echoing subtly at the back of my head for weeks:

“It doesn’t feel like you want a girlfriend - It feels like you just want a servant!”

And that is when they raised their hand in a clear threat to hit me. They did so twice, and I was deadly afraid at this point. I screeched at them to leave me alone and all they did was keep repeating the phrase:

“What’s wrong with you? Why do you always exaggerate?”

They also physically tried to shut me up by pushing a finger onto my mouth, and I was desperate and pumped with adrenaline at that point. But I wasn’t just scared - I was also angry. Beyond angry - I was blindingly furious. 

I don’t remember why atm, but they suddenly started crying about the whole ordeal, and I quite frankly said that I didn’t feel sorry for them. I was furious, and THEY threatened me, not the other way around. 

Things escalated further then. They ran into the bathroom and started tearing out every single box and cupboard and shelf - all in search for razors so they could cut themself. Realizing this, of course, I threw myself after them and used all my strength to pull them back. When they didn’t find the razors (and because I held on) - They ran into the kitchen and struggled to get to our kitchen knives. Yup - I’m talking about meat knives, vegetable knives, bread knives, etc.

I managed to pull them back into the living room at which point they calmed down somewhat. I said I would call the doctor - and they promised me dearly that they would jump from the balcony if I did.  They later admitted that they deliberately struggled to force me to hurt them when I restrained them, aka they used my body as a tool to self-harm.

At that point I was just......... Exhausted. Empty. Drained. And so unbelievably hurt and betrayed. But our dog needed a walk, so I took him out and called my best friend meanwhile - telling her about the situation. 

I want you to understand why I didn’t leave right at that moment - I had nowhere to go. Where WOULD I go?! Gothenburg is a hellscape when it comes to finding apartments or homes, I had already paid the rent for that apartment, etc. The only reason I didn’t leave then and there was because there were too many loose strings. There were couches I could sleep on, sure - but what about an apartment? What about my own room? Where would I live safetly?

During all this time, I also updated my chosen family in Denmark about what happened, to which the response was “We will get you down here. You’re in danger. We support you in everything you do”. 

I decided to stay one more day at least. I planned on writing two lists - One with pros of staying and one with cons. That, and I needed to think...... AND we were going to see the Hunchback of Notre-Dame the day after. I had waited to see that show for FIVE YEARS and I was not going to miss it because my partner decided to be an asshole. 

Fast forward to the evening of the 29th. The day had gone on...... Fine. But I knew from experience that I wasn’t actually feeling it. I had no romantic feelings, no love - no affection for the human next to me other than the barest form of compassion that is “I would really like you to not die”. 

I wrote the list, I read it to them, because parts of it also came down to their reaction to being told what not to do. 

Well - I wouldn’t be writing this if they had realized their mistakes, would I?

The immideate response to everything was to throw blame on everyone else, on me for making them mad, for provoking them, on their mother, on their illnesses and their autism, which I shut down immideately. I have mental illnesses as well as BPD, but that doesn’t give me the right to blame ABUSE on it and refuse to correct my behaviour.

I broke up with them then, though it was in..... more careful terms than I would have wished. I wish I had just said it outright, but it’s hard to dump someone you know? I am a compassionate person - I didn’t want to crush them further, especially cause they had threatened with suicide the day before. They begged me to stay, naturally, and said they would do anything to have me stay. However, when I brought up that I would like for her to go to the doctor, while I went down to my family in Denmark, they once again refused. They wanted me to simply sit at home, because she saw it as punishment. 

After a lot of going back and forth I managed to convince them to go to one of our neighbours, their best friend, while I made some calls and sorted out my brain. 

I called my best friend, to sort my thoughts out, I called the doctor to get advice and information on how their routines work, and then I called my ex’s father to explain the situation. He had the right to know that his child was heavily suicidal and that I wouldn’t be there to take care of it. Furthermore, I needed him to watch our dog just for a couple of days. Not forever, but just until I was in a safe place, and had made quite a lot of calls just in case we would have to sell him on. 

I also packed my stuff that night, and bought my ticket for Denmark. But what does one pack when one is running for one’s life? I packed necessities, naturally, but also valuables I didn’t need, because they had proven to be violent so I had no way of knowing they WOULDN’T destroy my things while I was gone. 

They soon realized what I was doing however, as I kept in contact with both the friend and their dad, and I was ORDERED not to go to Denmark, at which point I’m honestly proud of my reply. 

“If you leave for Denmark, we are over” “Great. Then the relationship is over at 10.55 tomorrow morning”

All night I also had to watch over our puppy of course - The last night I would ever spend with him, and this is the part where I usually break into tears. Even now. I can tell the rest of it with a certain cold hate - I do not mourn my relationship, but I......... I mourn my little baby boy. 

He had no idea that that was the last time he would ever get to see his favourite mommy. He had no idea that he would never get to sleep on my chest again, that I would never kiss his little head or nose again, that this time Mommy would never again come back once mommy left. I’m crying now that I write this. Only now, because I miss my baby boy so much - I love him....! But I can’t take care of a dog, I barely have a home, I don’t have the time because of my studies, and while my ex doesn’t have a lot of money, they have resources. And if they can’t take care of him, I contacted his previous owner to make sure that there was a safe place he could go. 

I miss my Hanzo so much that my heart breaks, and seeing little dogs downtown actually physically hurt nowadays, because I know that somewhere there’s a darling boy who will never know where his Mommy went. He will never know how much I love him. 

I had to leave though, and leave I did. I called my internship and explained the situation, I contacted Hanzo’s first owner, AND surprisingly, I called my mother. I guess no matter how much anger and disappointment I have towards her - When my life shattered I really really just wanted my mom.  And for the first time she actually supported me in the way I needed. She was THERE for me! I wasn’t scolded for what I had done, I wasn’t blamed for my own abuse - She actually behaved like I’ve heard mothers are supposed to. 

I healed rather quick after that, or rather I put myself together thanks to my family in Denmark. There was disney, and food, and DnD and just so much love and freedom. I wasn’t even SAD that I had left - I was just so relieved and happy and free! Like I could breathe again, even though I couldn’t pinpoint when I had stopped, you know? All through it my parents and friends back home did everything they could to help me solve the issue of the fact that I was now homeless. I am so privileged and happy to have them in my life - I had help and support where many might not have. Some might not have had the opportunity I did. Some might not have been able to run away, and honestly I can imagine few things that are worse than being stuck in that kind of prison. 

Remember my earlier note about being seen as a servant? Yea - that was very confirmed. The Ex tried to contact me and give me orders all through that week - talking to me like I wasn’t even a human being. There were demands and orders and things I HAD to do, things I HAD to pay, etc etc. I was insulted, compared to abusers (ironically), and overall treated like I was a mere object and possession. I called them out on it and politely told them to stop using such a derogatory tone and treat me with some form of basic human respect. The excuse for that attitude was that “Well you don’t understand simple commands unless I say them in this way. Grow up. Respect is earned”

There was still the problem of moving my things out of the apartment, but through many calls, texts and the effort of both my friends and my family, I had help both economically and physically to move all my stuff out.  We had been promised that the apartment would be clean and ready to be packed and moved, so to speak, as she was going to “switch back” to the smaller apartment. 

However when we arrived it was......... I don’t even know how to describe how nasty it was. Unwashed dishes (MY dishes), rotten food and trash, dirty floors, dirty laundry and it was damn near impossible to move around in there.  Luckily they weren’t there when we arrived, but I had my key, AND we had been in contact with the couple we had switched apartments with, who were now supposed to move into that... mountain of garbage. They had apparently also been lied to and used while I was away in Denmark. 

When They - the ex - finally came, they threw a fit, and I literally nearly attacked them. Not because they were there, per se, but because they threatened my mother. They treated my mom just like they had that day, they were threatening and downgrading and kept telling my own mother that I was “A worthless excuse for a human being, and I honestly can’t imagine anything more nasty than your daughter”

This is where my mother grew in my eyes. If I ever doubted that my mother loves me, or is proud of me, it changed in that very moment.  Because I got to see my mother - my daint little ladylike mother - stand up to my abuser and command the entire fucking room. 

“You can think whatever you want, but there is nothing in this world I’m more proud of than my daughter, so take that attitude, stick it somewhere, and get out of my face so we can pack our stuff and finally get you out of our lives”

Let me tell you, those hours of packing were long. All the while, we had my abuser going around and at every possible moment they insulted me. Thanks to mom’s outburst earlier however, my hate for Them simmered down to a cool form of disgust, so I didn’t take any form of provocation from them. Not even when they sat next to me and just spewed insult after insult. 

“What’s wrong with you?” “Dunno” “Like seriously - what’s wrong with you” “Dunno” “There has to be something cause you’re so pathetic that I almost feel pity for you” “Mhm. So this box of things is mine right?”

It pissed them off quite a lot. There was also a real threat from our side that if they escalated things or kept being threatening, we WOULD call the police. Let me tell you, there were some close calls - Especially when they dropped a box full of stuff on my mom’s back. 

But then we could leave. We were done. I blocked them on my phone and I will never look back. 

---

That................. Became a longer post than even I expected honestly. 

But after all that - How am I doing now?

So. Much. Better. 

Not only has my relationship with my mother improved, not only am I free to live my life and by my own rules, but I have also come to the genuine realization that I’m not single because I am not worthy of love, but because I’m WORTH waiting for something good. Until that comes along however, if it ever does, I’m WORTH being happy and living my life for ME! 

I live in a room in my aunt’s place, and honestly it’s so damn cozy? It’s cheap and worth it, I feel safe, there are cats, my cousins are here sometimes and honestly my aunt and I get along great! 

The only remaining issue is that of Hanzo, which I’m looking into more properly, ergo “Will I need a lawyer? Is my case strong enough?” - Not to have him live with me, but to have him live with someone who can afford bringing him to the vet, buy him food, and NOT having him live in a filthy home with rotting trash and food everywhere. 

Overall I like to look at this experience like a REALLY nasty bout of having to clean out the shower drain. 

Cleaning the shower drain is nasty, and it doesn’t matter how many layers of protection you wear - It’s still gross. It smells, and the filth can be hard to get rid of, especially if it’s sewage that’s been stuck for a bit and had time to grow.  Even when the procedure is done and the clog has been flushed down the toilet, one feels rather nasty and grimy and as though one will never be clean.  But ALAS!  After a shower, or twelve, that nasty feeling is gone and now that the drain has been cleaned, the water flows freely - clean - and natural. And everything feels so much better. 

My abuser is that clog, but they have been flushed away - Cleaned up, the water flows freely, and I feel like a new person. 

I haven’t even taken my anti-depressants for a couple of days and felt NOTHING!

---

TL;DR: Even though this was my second abusive relationship, I’m safe and happy now. I love living - I love breathing - I love studying! 

Even though flashbacks might occassionally haunt me - Even though words will occassionally come back to sting - I will not let them stop me in my life.

Thank you for reading <3 I’m done now <3 I promise