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andivmg · 4 months

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speak up andi, I beg of you, you have been mistreated the most here, I know it took shubble a lot of courage but she has helped so many people

i want to start this off by saying it is not a competition and i do not want to compare my experience to anybody else’s. shubble is so fucking strong and i admire her and everyone else who has spoken up about experiencing abuse endlessly.

DISCLAIMER 1

this is way longer than i intended it to be. i did not plan to go into as much depth as i did but the words just kinda kept coming and i kept thinking that if someone else is in a similar situation to the one i was in, it would be good to point out even some of the smaller details so that they can see that these behaviors are not something to be overlooked and could be a symptom of a bigger issue… idk. i apologize for how lengthy and wordy this is but i hope it all makes sense somehow

DISCLAIMER 2

a lot of you know who one of my exes is and i am asking you to please not make this about him. i am simply sharing my experience with some of my past relationships in hopes that they help someone else. i beg of you, do not go on twitter making threads speculating on whatever because it’s just going to cause me a bunch of problems and i don’t want this to be brought to his attention. if you share my story, please do not do it with the intent of starting drama. if you share my story, focus on the behaviors i am talking about instead of trying to figure out if it’s about him.

DISCLAIMER 3

this goes without saying but i’ll put it here anyway: i will be talking about toxic relationships, mention of self harm, mention of sex, implied violence. if any of these topics are triggering to you please scroll away, protect yourself.

I have been in a lot of relationships, but there are 4 that i would truly identify as the ones who had the biggest impact on me. Two of those i would consider emotional mistreatment. I don’t want to say i was abused for reasons that i will be discussing with my therapist this week, but i can certainly say i was mistreated. For the sake of privacy, i will be referring to these two dudes as 1 and 6.

I think the biggest difference between 1 and 6 is that 6 was obsessed with me to the point where i felt like i was being suffocated, whereas i’m not sure if 1 ever cared about me in the first place.

6 and i started out pretty normally. we had a bunch of friends in common and we were around the same people. so eventually, we became friends too. we would text and call all the time until feelings developed into a relationship. in the beginning he was really sweet and caring, saying all the right things that got me falling head over heels. now, something important to note is that i am someone who has always had a lot of guy friends. when i was little and in school, my mom made friends with a bunch of other moms and those moms were boy moms, so i grew up surrounded by boys. i bring this up because 6 didn’t like my guy friends. actually, i think he just didn’t like the fact that i had guy friends at all. so, whenever i would hang out with my friends, it was a problem. so this resulted in me never being able to go out or hang out with my friends unless he was there. then it got worse. before we started dating he had decided to cut back on drinking and to stop smoking. so because of this, i decided that i wouldn’t drink or smoke around him in solidarity. this was not enough for him. i had to stop drinking and smoking altogether. so once, when i was hanging out with my girl friends we decided to stay in and get wine drunk. we posted about it on our private stories on snap and once he saw, 6 called me arguing and yelling at me because i was drinking and posting about it on my story for “attention”. after this incident, i was no longer allowed to hang out with my friends because they were a “bad influence”. he also didn’t like the clothes i wore. sorry, let me reiterate: he didn’t like my clothes when he wasn’t around. it was perfectly fine for me to wear a short dress… if i was with him. i was not allowed to wear “revealing” clothing if he wasn’t around. mind you, none of the clothes i wore were revealing, it’s not my fault i’m hot yk? he took over my life. who i talked to, what i did, what i wore, where i would go, it was all up to him. my life no longer belonged to me. and at the time, i was okay with that. i didn’t realize that he had so much control over everything. i was young and naïve and he convinced me that he knew what was best for me. that he had lived more than i had and experienced more than i had and that he knew better. he was so good at making everything my fault and making him the hero or victim depending on the situation. i got catcalled on the street? “because you were wearing that fucking dress again, andrea you know how that looks. of course you got catcalled. this is why you can’t wear things like that when i’m not around to protect you”. I decided to have a fun night in with my friends and get drunk? “i just don’t understand why you would be posting yourself on your private story like that. you’re drunk and vulnerable. why do you want other people, other guys, to see you like that? and you know i’ve cut back on drinking so how do you think it makes me feel to see that? don’t you love me enough to do this for me?” the worst part is i believed him. because, in the beginning, he helped me so much and i looked up to him so much, surely he had my best interests at heart, right? this relationship went on for way longer than it should have. you may be asking yourself, how did you leave? if you were so in love with him and entranced by him to the point where he consumed you, why did you leave? he raised his hand. that’s what got me to finally leave. a year after we broke up, i found out that he was drinking, smoking, and doing all kinds of shit he told me he wasn’t throughout our entire relationship. he was awful, and i’m really proud of myself for being strong enough to leave when i did. i’m also really grateful for my friends, who stuck out that whole train wreck with me. who i lashed out against in order to protect him and defend him. they stuck by me through it all and i don’t know where i would be without them so shoutout to them lmfao.

1 was a bit more complicated. it started out in a similar way. we had the same friends, hung out around the same people, so it was only a matter of time until we became friends too. we would call and text every day until feelings were developed. at least i developed feelings, i’m still not sure he did. i told him this and i don’t remember how the conversation went but basically we had decided that we were talking as more than friends now. enough time went by where i was ready for it to become a relationship and i communicated that to him. looking back, i think he felt pressured into the relationship by me and by our friends. anyway we started dating and everything was fine. we would hang out and talk all the time but i felt like he was bored or disinterested by me, so i would constantly beg for his attention. i became this needy clingy version of myself that i hated. it felt like when we would hang out, he was always distracted by something else. i basically felt invisible to him. that is, when i wasn’t hanging out with my guy friends. similarly to 6, 1 did not like my guy friends or the fact that i had guy friends in the first place. i had a guy best friend at the time who is one of the most amazing people i have ever met. let’s call him S. S and 1 were acquainted with each other, hung out in the same circles etc. but 1 still didn’t like him. sometimes, whenever 1 was busy doing whatever he did when he wasn’t with me, i would hang out with S, we would watch shows together and just talk. Some days, it felt like i talked to S more than my own boyfriend. this did not sit well with 1. he would ask “why the fuck are you always hanging out with him?” to which i would reply “maybe if you hung out with me more, i wouldn’t have so much free time to spend with him” (toxic ik but what can i say? i was feeling neglected). so you can see what problems this caused. eventually i cut S off. I stopped talking to him completely and i haven’t spoken to him since. Back to 1. even after cutting off my best friend, nothing really changed. He didn’t spend much time with me and whenever we would, i felt like he couldn’t wait to go off and do something else. this got exhausting. at that point i was begging him to love me, to pay attention to me, to care about me. this led to us breaking up. he broke up with me over text. it read, and i quote, “i think we aren’t meant for each other. i think you deserve someone that will treat you better than i do. I don’t think i’m in love with you and i tried to force myself to love you because i thought that’s what i wanted but i really don’t think it is. we started this relationship when i was just tired of being alone and i really just don’t think it is right anymore. i don’t think i am attracted to you. I am sorry, i really didn’t know how to end this and this probably isn’t the best way to do it but it’s time”. The relationship went on for another six months after this. granted, i should have had more self respect and never gotten back together with him but it is what it is. so after he told me that he didn’t love me and that he wasn’t attracted to me, we stayed “friends”. which basically meant that we did everything that a relationship involved. without actually being in a relationship. that is, until one of his friends hit me up. there was some flirtation going on but nothing serious. i was still in love with 1 but, at the time, i was in desperate need for attention and his buddy was there to provide it. when i told 1 about it he flipped out, called me all kinds of crazy and decided he was done with me. his friend and i talked about it and poked fun at the fact that he broke up with me but got mad at someone else paying attention to me. when 1 saw this (he ended up forcing me to show him the screenshots of the conversation) he was even more pissed and even more done with me. the next day he called me and we were basically back together again.

however, this time, i was meant to earn his affection. because i did something so unforgivable and atrocious, he was basically in the clear to treat me like shit. and he did. he would cancel plans to go hang out with his friends. he would only come over late at night, even when i had class the next day. i was basically at his mercy. we only hung out when he decided. we only spoke when he wanted to. i honestly can’t even recall us going on any date after that incident, save for one dinner. in short, i was not a priority to him. this, combined with some other stuff, really took at toll on my mental health. i entered a deep depression and began self-harming after being clean for 3 years. i sought out help and found a wonderful therapist who really helped me. but, 1 only saw this as one more problem. when we hung out he would complain that i was too sad. important note: because of that text he sent me i was incredibly insecure. so, little arguments would always end up escalating because i felt like he literally did not care about me and he would just keep making me feel like shit about being depressed. whenever we argued (which was very often) it would end in me locking myself in the bathroom, sobbing, nearly throwing up, while he was on his phone. i remember one specific argument started because he asked me if i would leave him for harry styles and i jokingly said yes (i am not and have never been attracted to harry styles). that argument escalated to the point where we almost broke up and he said to me “you should warn people before they fall in love with you that you are so mentally ill. because you’re always going to bring down the mental state of who you’re with”. he used my mental health against me like that a lot. whenever i would bring up something i wanted him to do or something that i didn’t like, he would call me needy, clingy, and say that he was trying his best but that i needed too much, that i was too much. all i wanted was reassurance. looking back, that’s all i ever asked for. whenever i would ask him if he loved me he would say “well i’m with you aren’t i?”. this is the same man who decided to go to vegas with his friends on my birthday after he promised he wouldn’t. this is the same man who said that he didn’t love me. the same one who said he wasn’t attracted to me. the same man who i would catch looking at other girl’s (some being his “friends”) provocative pictures on twitter. (this is definitely tmi so i’m just going to put a bunch of asterisks at the end of the tmi so you can skip there if you don’t want to read it) but there was a long period of time in our relationship where we had zero intimacy, and it wasn’t because of me. this fucked with my head a lot because i had this idea that because i was so emotional and needy that i could compensate physically. but when that stopped, my thoughts looked something like “the only thing i was useful for was sex and now he doesn’t even want that from me”.************whenever i remember this, a part of me thinks he might’ve been cheating on me during that time, but i have no proof so i guess we’ll never know. also during that time period, we were arguing over the same things over and over “it feels like you don’t love me” “but i’m hanging out with you” “that’s not the same as loving me” “you’re so fucking needy. and then you wonder why i don’t like coming over”. it was exhausting. we had the same friend group. and even our friends got so sick of us that they would tell me to break up with him. this went on for months until one day, on our one year anniversary, he told me that his plans for the day included playing video games. nothing else. that’s when i broke up with him. that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. i just couldn’t do it anymore.

we stayed friends afterwards in order to keep the peace within the friend group. after about a month, he told me he was going to do better. he said he was going to start going to the gym, and maybe even going to therapy, that he was going to eat better and live a better lifestyle for me. he said he was going to plan dates for us and treat me the way i deserved etc. very much vibes from that one euphoria scene. but i was done. maybe i didn’t communicate that well enough to him and that’s my fault. but i was really confused at the time and i didn’t know what i wanted. eventually we had a conversation and that’s when i told him that i was no longer interested in a relationship. i think i just didn’t believe him anymore. i didn’t believe that he would change for me or anyone else for that matter. through the entire relationship he was mean to me, he neglected me, belittled me, and overall made me feel like shit at worst and invisible at best. even when i would offer to plan things or suggest activities for us to do together, he would be disinterested the entire time or just cancel and make plans with his friends instead. and of course it was all my fault for one, flirting with his friend that one time, and two, just not being interesting enough. he made it feel like i wasn’t good enough, and at the same time victimized himself. he would tell me “nothing i do is ever good enough for you” while i was the one putting in all the effort in the relationship. then he would go “well why would i put in effort with you? remember when you were flirting with [redacted]? I still think about that and it fucks me up”. mind you, he would only bring this up whenever i brought up any concerns or issues. anyway, as you can tell it took me a really long time to realize that this relationship was toxic and unhealthy and i’m really proud of myself, again, for having the strength to leave and never look back. i think one of the reasons why it took me so long to realize that i was being mistreated was because everyone around him loved him. and to me it was hard to see how someone that was so well liked could be bad. so i felt like i was the problem. i felt like there was something wrong with me and if i just fixed that, then he would treat me better and love me and care about me. it took a lot of therapy to realize that he just wasn’t that into me. i was like a toy to him that he could just pay attention to when he was bored but ignore me the rest of the time. but then, when someone else showed interest in me he would suddenly care and be like “no she’s mine, you can’t have her”. he didn’t want me but he didn’t want anyone else to have me and that was the bottom line. that was the base off all the problems and toxicity that happened while we were together.

in conclusion, both of these men were awful in their own unique ways. i hope that by sharing this, someone who is in a similar situation will see it and identify these behaviors as something to watch out for. i hope that someone will see it and realize that they are not alone, and that they are not the first person to go through it, and that it gets better. these events all happened over two years ago and now i am in a beautiful and healthy relationship, i’m studying something that i am passionate about, and i am surrounded by people who love, care about, and support me. i am in a much happier place now and you will find that too, whoever you might be <3

#andianswers #i might’ve given myself a migraine with this one

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dannyfandomphd · 2 months

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Moral purity and imaginative resistance as influencing factors in fandom 'anti' attitudes

Jessica Black et al.'s 2019 experiment on the correlation between enjoying dark/villainous characters, personal morality and purity beliefs, and imaginative resistance is so interesting when applying it to anti culture and fandom.

They created a Dark Character Scale where participants self-selected how strongly in agreement or disagreement they were with a series of statements about dark or villainous fictional characters. Some of these questions were the following:

"I enjoy films and books that feature main characters that choose morally questionable actions."

"I can often understand where the bad guys in fiction are coming from."

"My favourite fictional characters are morally ambiguous and often do horrible things."

They then utilised the Moral Foundations Questionnaire (Graham et al. 2011) to see what participants considered important when deciding on whether something is morally right or wrong, for example:

Whether or not someone suffers emotionally

Whether or not someone did something disgusting*

Whether or not someone was cruel

Whether or not someone was denied [their] rights

Whether or not someone acted in a way God would approve of*

as well as how strongly participants agreed or disagreed with statements such as:

Compassion for those who are suffering is the most crucial virtue

People should not do things that are disgusting, even if no one is harmed*

It can never be right to kill a human being

I would call some acts wrong on the grounds that they are unnatural*

Respect for authority is something all children need to learn.

One of the final scales participants used was the Black & Barnes (2017) Imaginative Resistance Scale. This is basically used to gauge how resistant the reader is to enjoying or consuming fictional content that contains characters, situations, or worldbuilding that they personally find morally disagreeable. They had to select how strongly they agreed/disagreed with questions like:

Reading books where bad things are depicted as morally acceptable makes me feel dirty

I just can't go along with a story when it violates my beliefs about morality

At times it feels like the author of a book is asking me to endorse actions that I know are wrong

Some things just shouldn't be done, even within a book

I sometimes cannot go along with a story when the "good" characters do morally reprehensible things

Sympathising with immoral characters makes me feel immoral myself.

Unsurprisingly, analysis of the data revealed that there was a strong correlation between disliking or not enjoying dark fictional characters or villains and having a higher purity morality score and more imaginative resistance.

They performed this test in three studies done on three completely different demographics - the first being mostly liberal women from social media sites, the second being mostly younger conservative college undergrads, and the third being adults split 50/50 in gender recruited from MTurk. All three studies showed that having stronger imaginative resistance and higher purity morality scores is directly linked to a lower score on the DCS - meaning that they would like or enjoy dark fictional characters and their actions less.

This tracks pretty well with what can be seen in the emerging anti culture within fandom:

Self-identified 'antis' are likely to agree strongly with the statements from the Imaginative Resistance Scale, and are more likely to score highly on the questions in Moral Foundations Questionnaire that are specifically demarcated as being concerned with purity (marked above with an asterisk *). This means that they are also, according to these studies, much more likely to disagree with dark fictional characters and their actions.

There is also a very interesting point in one of the discussions areas where Black et al. state "It is worth reiterating that the participants in Study 2 tended to be more conservative, and therefore potentially more likely to have greater concerns about moral purity" which tracks with what people in fandom have been saying about antis parroting conservative/puritan talking points and arguments.

What I find the most interesting is the following statement:

"However, moral purity and imaginative resistance are consistently positively correlated, both in the current studies and in prior research ... and are both likely to reflect a fear of moral contagion that would discourage people from identifying with and liking [dark fictional characters]."

This, when applied to antis, suggests that antis may harbor the subconscious belief that enjoying dark fictional content, and therefore being a 'proshipper', is literally psychically contagious. They may view this as some kind of moral disease which is spreading and infecting fandom, which could explain why they are so vehemently against it - fear. This is the puritan Moral Panic all over again.

Black et al. also discuss theories of fictional engagement and parasocial relationships/identification, and whether these studies is relevant to "when and for whom fictional engagement could have the potential to negatively affect real world attitudes or behaviour".

Jessica Black and Jennifer Barnes often publish articles together and have some incredibly interesting reading of morality and fiction that I'd be interested to see applied to fandom and anti culture in an academic setting. Perhaps some people in the field like Samantha Aburime (@rainystudios) are already looking into it - and I'm hoping I can do the same in my studies.

#fan studies #fandom studies #proship #proshipping #profic #fandom history

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disniq · 10 months

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heyyy it's the tropes jason anon again back at it with a new question! what quotes from the comic books would you say describe jason & his philosophy well? thank you so, so much for helping me out ❤

Hi again Anon!

Full disclosure here; I don't think Jason has been written consistently enough over the years to necessarily have one set, inarguable philosophy. But I do think there are certain themes that carry through.

So;

Red Hood: Lost Days #3

This is, notably, the first time Jason kills. (I'm not including Garzonas, which is debatable, or the Cheer incident, which is a retcon) He finds out his hand-to-hand teacher has a barn full of drugged children about to be sex trafficked. The cops and politicians are in on it, making lawful justice extremely unlikely, but taking out one man takes out the system. Jason crosses that line for the first time because nobody else is there to stop it, and this is the most practical route.

He does not see it as "murder" because he feels it was deserved.

Red Hood: Lost Days #4

After that line has been crossed - as Talia points out here - a pattern emerges. It's notable that Jason does not kill all his dubiously skilled teachers, only the ones he deems the worst of the worst - people deliberately and repeatedly harming everyday people, especially children.

Jason reiterates this in his famous utrh speech. He's not talking about killing every rogue, every criminal. He's talking about killing the worst of the worst, the people who can finagle their way out of the system, the people the system fails to catch.

Under the Red Hood

It would be remiss of me not to include that one time Jason killed a nazi. Good for her dot gif.

To Jason, these people are beyond the regular means of justice, so he provides his own. He stops them from hurting anybody else.

This is not an exclusively post-resurrection opinion of his, either. Jason expressed similar thoughts during his Robin run.

Batman #422 (thank you @benbamboozled 😘)

This woman, Judy, baited her sister's murderer into attacking her too and then slits his throat. She's unrepentant, and Jason agrees with her decision. (Bruce, for the record, gives a speech on how "nobody is above the law" which is. An interesting stance for an illegally operating vigilante to take lmao)

It makes sense to me that Jason, as someone who has seen the system fail repeatedly (both as a civilian and as a hero), would have those kinds of doubts. The system doesn't always work. The system often fails the most vulnerable people.

When Bruce was failed by the Gotham justice system, he became his own extra-judicial system. When Jason is failed by both the justice system *and* Bruce's own vigilante system? Why wouldn't he do the same.

Unfortunately, this thread is mostly dropped for a while with the wave of writers who either actively hate Jason and try to make him capital E Evil or who are playing shameless self insert with him, but there are two more recent panels that I want to include too;

Task Force Z #12

So, in TFZ, Jason pushes who he thinks is Bane off a roof for killing Alfred. It... is not actually Bane, but instead the brainwashed former corpse of Gotham re-reanimated via comicbook science and. You know what, it doesn't matter. What does matter is that Jason regrets killing Gotham because he didn't deserve it, but reiterates that he will kill the real Bane if he gets a chance.

Jason sees killing as something he can do that others can't, that others maybe *shouldn't* have to do.

The Joker: The Man Who Stopped Laughing #8

And finally, I adore this little beat in JTMWSL. This is something Jason thinks about. He's not just some brute that doesn't understand that "killing is bad". He thinks about it, reads theory about it. He sees that between the black and white, there are many, many shades of gray.

He understands that people who don't kill with their own hands aren't necessarily good people - like these cops here, gleefully waiting for him to be killed in prison. And that the people who *do* get their hands dirty aren't necessarily the bad guys - like poor Judy.

And I think he probably varies where he places himself on that scale at any given moment.

#I'm sorry anon none of these are strictly speaking quotes but this is what I've got lol #jason todd #asked and answered #long post #my meta

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nailisaa · 5 months

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love transforms

(announcement at the end)

fear was the cause of most of my problems. now that i've discovered this as the root, its a lot easier to deal with now. i can imagine some of you do as well which is why i wanted to share this. part 3 of edwards's series is truly incredible, we don't speak of it enough despite some of us truly needing it right now. you and your feelings are valid, but because no one deserves to live in fear ever, we should know how to manage it.

THROUGH LOVE.

i know. this may not make sense at first. most people would just say "flip the thoughts" or do something to regain control. but truthfully there is no reason flip fearful thoughts first. you are much greater than them... and more importantly: that isn't the root.

if the root is fear, remove the feeling of fear entirely by first taking responsibility for what you're conscious of being. i understand that most struggle to, but if you can acknowledge the harm this cycle has done, you can also break it by ALLOWING yourself to experience lovelier thoughts instead. meaning, that if you've created fearful thoughts that means it HAS NO POWER ON ITS OWN. NONE. this should be the best news, to realize you are more than your thoughts.

CHOOSE LOVE OVER FEAR.

"Second, when you take responsibility for that fearful thought as your creation, ask yourself this simple question, 'What is it that I would LOVE to think?' From here as the Creator, you can start to go towards LOVE. LOVE is the most powerful 'thing' if you will, within you. Why? Because it never fails to TRANSFORM 'SELF.' Fear can stagnant, but LOVE TRANSFORMS. Why is this important? Remember the reason we are doing this. We are NOT trying to manipulate reality or force some change upon this physical world That will happen NATURALLY. Why? Because your world is REFLECTING SELF. Since it is reflecting 'SELF,' then how can we transform 'SELF' in the most efficient and best way possible? Through LOVE. By actually going within our minds and doing what we LOVE, having what we LOVE. This changes us at our very core. From this new feeling of freedom and love, you will find it incredibly easy to think what you want. You will even find it harder to feel fear. This ease and love starts to become your natural State. People will start treating you in a better way. You won't even have to imagine every little thing going your way, it just will. Things you wanted months ago, start appearing in your world. Things that bothered you deeply, literally has no effect on you anymore. Why? Because you are no longer DESIRING, no longer FEARING. You are living in FULFILLMENT. Fulfillment in Love. You are actually living what you LOVE within, and this love expresses itself without. To reiterate, when you are doing these meditations, and you get the 'resistance' which is just fear, remember the words of Neville: 'To repent to simply man's ability to entertain the nature of the opposite." Can you entertain the opposite of the nature of fear? Can you entertain Love? Is that not what you want?" - Edward Art

end.

IMPORTANT: this is my last post before i go on break. i am not sure when i will be back, but it definitely won't be for too long?

before i go, i wanted to share some advice. everyone interprets things differently, which is why reading directly from source is probably one of the best things you can do in your journey. (it is very easy to find misinfo on any app.) when i say this i don't mean skim through the whole thing, no. but read it slowly. you don't have to finish these books all in one day (i am saying this because i tried that once, and that was not it y'all😭💀). do it at a pace where you will be able to grasp what is being said. if you don't understand something, read the sentence or previous paragraphs again and you'll usually find the answer on your own. you may find new pieces to the puzzle if you just took the time, or even sat with yourself in silence (you may even come to new realizations, not from teachers but from you). there is no rush, seriously.

now anyway, about my break, my goal is to come back having read other authors and books, to share with you guys, and hopefully return with a new and stronger perspective on consciousness/awareness. recently i have been feeling as if something within me is missing, despite me knowing what i do. about Self. maybe it is time to explore what that is. i'll still be active on tumblr, but i'm not posting and my inbox will be closed. and i won't be answering dms about loa advice. i wish you all the best, truly. and i love u all, bye!

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tojikai · 2 years

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Permanent Mark

Pairing: Gojo x Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: tragedy, alcohol, self-harm, self-destructive reader, smoking, physical violence, implied cheating

Series Masterlist

"If you're leaving, just take my heart with you."

"Let's…try meeting other people."

You heard your boyfriend—loud and clear, but still, you questioningly hummed as you folded your clothes on the bed. You were stacking them up neatly when you glanced at him as he sat on a chair in the corner of the room. He's looking directly at you with a soft yet serious expression. You raised your brows at him nonchalantly, urging him to reiterate his proposal.

The wind blew past the curtains and inside your bedroom, sending chills down your spine and causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. You stood up to close the balcony door, telling yourself that the cold feeling on the tips of your fingers was caused by the breeze and not by the words that escaped Satoru's lips.

"Maybe we should see other people. You know, like take a break from each other and see how it goes." He leaned on his elbows, his eyebrows slightly pulling closer together as he cracked his fingers anxiously. His eyes traced your silhouette as you stood in front of the window; the sun was close to setting, slowly disappearing on the horizon.

And so is your relationship with Satoru.

"Is there something wrong? Do we have a problem?" You asked, taking slow steps to sit back on the bed and continue your chore. There was no other noise in the room. If someone passes by the door, they would think that it is empty, for not even the shallowest of breaths are audible in those few seconds of looming heartbreak. As tranquil as the ocean in the earliest mornings of summer, you waited for an already known and obvious answer.

"No. There's nothing wrong, Y/N. I just feel like we should because…" He trailed, his mind thinking of the answer, the right word to say. It felt like he was setting up a safety net while trying to find a way to break free without breaking you.

"This is too comfortable, Y/N. It's- I don't know how else to put it. But I feel like we're just together because there's no reason to be apart." You remained silent, unmoving, as you held the hem of his shirt in your cold hands. You tried to process his words and the idea that he was trying to get to you. The clothes in front of you suddenly became the most interesting things in the room. You failed to tear your gaze away from them.

"I think we're slowly losing that…that something we felt back then. Before it's completely gone, I just think that we should take a step back." He sighed, leaning back on the chair with his eyes still fixed on you. How you wish it could be that easy for you to look him straight in the eyes too.

The stillness in the air was getting too thick, and you felt like it was starting to get too hard to move around. The room suddenly felt too big, and your boyfriend suddenly seems too far away. Everything suddenly looks too grey, and you suddenly feel too blue.

All of it was suddenly too much.

You couldn't keep up with how fast he was moving. You didn't see it coming at all. Like he said, 'there was nothing wrong.' There were no signals given for you to prepare. That's what makes it all harder to comprehend. Everything was going well, yet everything still came crashing down. When you were younger, you thought a peaceful relationship guaranteed a strong one. So, what is going on now?

"Are you not happy with me anymore?" You whispered, still refusing to look up at him. Satoru doesn't want to hurt you any longer. It might seem cold-hearted, but he wished that you would just accept it and try to move forward. But he can't blame you and cannot help but feel guilty for all of this. He knows he's hurting you, but he would also end up hurting himself if he took all his words back.

"You made me happy, Y/N. You made me very happy. But I just…" He kept cutting off his sentences because he knew they'd fatally crush you if he said straight without brakes. He hated himself for dragging this longer than it already was.

"You know I'm the happiest with you." You pulled your knees to your chest, leaning your head on it and finally meeting his gaze as if you were just talking casually. You knew he wouldn't want to see you cry, so you held it in. You know that if you were to cry, you'd only make this harder for him. You've been internally telling yourself that you're okay in hopes that you'd make your brain believe that you really are. Even just until he leaves.

"I know. And I'm sorry." It's over. You thought to yourself, and you felt like every vein, all arteries in your heart, was desperately trying to unplug themselves from the organ, refusing to take part in the bone-crushing pain that you were feeling.

"I think…I found happiness somewhere else." Even in your darkest days, you've never felt this lifeless. Every word that comes out of his mouth is sucking all the blood out of you, and you're sure that after this wave, you'd be left as a mere cage, skin, and bones meant to walk the land but never meant to touch a soul.

"I think I'm happier there." His words are suddenly no louder than a whisper, but you could hear every syllable that came out of his mouth. You couldn't be mistaken. Who is it? Since when? Where did they meet? How could you not know? Why? All types of questions flooded your mind, yet you stopped yourself from asking him. You focused on the main thought of what he said.

Your happiness is happier with someone else.

It felt like you were drowning from the inside. The water slowly rose to your lungs, filling it up to your nose and head but never overflowing. It just stayed inside you, and you could swear that you felt like fainting if it wasn't for those blue eyes who served as your salvation even when the owner was killing you.

"I see," You breathed out, moving slowly to sit on the side of the bed. You plant your feet on the floor, biting your upper lip as you look at your bare thighs. What else do you say in a situation like this? You don't know. You have no idea how to handle a problem you've never experienced in your whole life. He's the first man you've ever let in your heart. He was the first man you've ever handed out your heart to. And now he's giving it back, but the problem is, you wanted him to keep it.

You'd gladly live without a heart if it meant that it would be his forever. Even if he's not yours anymore.

"I'll just come back for my things. I'll give you some time and space for now." He stood up, hesitating to take another step towards the door. He wondered if he should stay the night with you for the last time. He wondered if he should explain it a bit more. Satoru genuinely cares for you. He truly loved you. He wasn't lying when he said that you made him happy.

It just doesn't feel the same way anymore.

Maybe it's because she's back in his life. Maybe because he's been looking for her all along. Maybe he's just been waiting for her all this time. Perhaps he never really got over her, even if they were never really together, and that's his frustration. Maybe now he could finally have what he had wanted since high school. He thought, what if you just happened to have come along and were just meant to be a chapter in his life but not his whole story? That's probably it. Because if you were meant to be together, he wouldn't have fallen for her again.

It was never his intention to hurt you like this, but the heart wants what it wants, and right now, it wants her.

"I'm really sorry, Y/N." He walked to you, kneeling down to look at your face. He prepared himself to wipe off the flood of tears from your eyes, but to his surprise, there were none. You sat there, looking down with nothing but love and melancholy in your eyes. He almost breathed out in relief. He's been thinking about it since last night, and up to now, he still hasn't figured out what to do if you were to break down in front of him.

"You should go. I'll just…sort all of this out on my own. I'll be fine." You looked up, meeting his eyes, and you could see nothing but pity on them. He must be feeling sorry for you. You who believed that you two were still in love. You who believed that you're still the one in his heart. You who thought that he just wanted a cool off.

"I can stay with you for tonight if you want to. I know this is all too sudden for you." He insisted, grabbing your hands before bringing them to his soft lips. You blinked fast, preventing the tears from forming in your eyes as the realization dawned on you. This will be the last time you'll feel them on your skin. This will be the last day you'll get to call him yours. There's still so much to process. You don't know how your friends would react. You don't even know if they already know that he was planning to break up with you.

"Did you...did you cheat on me?" The question slipped past your lips, and you almost took it back, not wanting to hear the answer. Because if he did, you probably wouldn't be able to hold in your cries anymore.

"No. I wasn't planning to." Indeed, he never thought of cheating on you. He promised himself that he'd tell you first before pursuing her. You're a good person, and he'll never forgive himself if he betrayed you like that. His hands gently squeezed yours as if to offer some sort of comfort that could only be within gestures but never in the words that escaped his lips. You could only let out a hollow laugh and nod, almost grateful for being spared from another wound.

"She better be good to you. And you, to her." A blue smile was painted on your lips as you watched your shadow disappear. It was already dark outside, and the city lights twinkled as if they were stars on the ground from the floor of your apartment. Inside, it was you and your ex-boyfriend, bidding goodbye to the golden years of your relationship.

The sun has finally disappeared, along with his love for you.

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The night didn't feel like a night because you stayed awake. The clothes you were folding are long left on the edge of the bed. You lied down and stared at the ceiling, wondering when it all started falling apart. When did he start falling out of love? When did he realize that you don't make him feel the same way anymore? Did he kiss her? Her lips are probably the softest, sweetest lips he'd ever tasted if it made him throw away his years with you.

What a lucky woman, you thought. You imagined how you used to trace every vein in his skin and realized that she's probably doing it for you right now. You imagined how you used to tangle your hands in his hair and how she's probably doing the same thing right now, watching him as he closes his eyes from her tender touches. You imagined how she's probably whispering sweet nothings against his lips as his nose brushed against hers right now.

To him, it's her right now, tomorrow, and in the days ahead. You're nothing but history, somebody that he used to love. But to you, it's him. And it will always be him. Because he's all that you've ever known. All you've ever had.

When Satoru walked out your door, it was like the Y/N that you chose to forget and abandon in that harsh environment came back. You don't know where to start. Should you move places? Should you avoid him at all costs?

You wanted to run away and just leave everything behind like what you did when you moved out of your parents' house back then. Disappear and never show your face in front of him again. Never see each other ever again. He'd be able to bear that, but could you? Could you bear not seeing his face?

You don't even know if you can completely detach yourself from him when he's been your emotional support ever since you moved to this city. Now that he's gone, who will you run to? You know that none of your questions will be answered. So, like in the old times, you return to your old ways.

You stood up and put on a blazer, taking your wallet and phone before walking out the door. You haven't cried it all out yet. It still hasn't fully sunk into you that you're alone again. All that you are now is a hollow shell with a wallet full of money and parents who don't give a shit about you. They're too busy with their lives and work to even check up on you.

You let the cool air caress your face as you step out of the building and walk to the nearest convenience store. Your eyes darted everywhere, trying to find something that could take away all of the thoughts in your mind. Hoping that maybe the bottles and sticks you were about to get are not the only things that could wash away all the feelings in your chest.

They only made it worse. Cause everything reminds you of Satoru.

He wouldn't like to see you standing between these aisles with a packet of cigarettes and high-alcohol beer bottles. Just for tonight. You told yourself as you paid. You promised yourself that you wouldn't turn to these again, but who else can you turn to? You're calm on the outside, but in your head, all the switches are being flipped on and off as you try to think of a way to ease the searing pain.

You could only hope he doesn't come back yet for his things tomorrow morning.

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"Hey," Satoru breathed on the phone, waiting for the honeyed voice that he's been dying to hear. It wasn't easy for Satoru to break it off with you. He did his best to make it easier, to deliver it a little lighter to you. He thought he could pass it off as some kind of a cooldown, just to encourage you to meet and try with someone else.

But there really was no easy and kind way to crush someone's heart.

"Satoru?" His thoughts about Y/N were quickly swept away by the sweet sound on the other side of the line. He smiled despite the lingering guilt in the back of his mind. Thinking about how just a couple of nights ago, he was just daydreaming about her, and now he could finally ask her out. It felt wrong when you were around; it almost felt like he was cheating on you. He didn't want to hurt you, but he wants to be honest, knowing that it'd be more painful if he chose to delay what's really about to come.

"I was just wondering if you're free next Friday?" His hands were cold, and the giddy yet nervous feeling circled his chest. He hasn't seen her in years, and it's only been a month since they met again. He doesn't know why but he was immediately drawn to her, the feeling that he knew so well since his teenage years coming back to life and overlapping with the emotions he had for you.

"Uhm, yeah. After work, I guess." She paused, and he could hear her breath hitch, making him swallow because he was already expecting this reaction. He knows that she'll ask about Y/N. He doesn't know what she'll think of him if he tells her that he just broke up with you, yet here he is asking someone out.

"What about Y/N? Did you tell her about what happened?" She was referring to the kiss. It happened the night when Satoru and their high school friends threw a party for her. It's been years since they all hung out with their high school classmates, and they thought her return to the city would be an excellent occasion to celebrate. They got teased because she's been Satoru's crush back then, and it happened when he offered her a ride home.

He remembered looking at her eyes, and the next thing he knew, they leaned in towards each other. Like two pieces of a puzzle that finally found where they belonged, there was a force that pushed them closer to one another. It felt like everything about the two of them fit perfectly together. She kept saying 'sorry' that night, knowing that he had a girlfriend, but Satoru could only nod and recall the taste of her lips.

"We broke up." It slipped past his lips as he leaned back on the headboard of his bed, holding the top of his head with his hands. There was a long pause, and only their breaths could be heard. Satoru had to pull away just to check if the call was still going. When he saw the small numbers still running, he thought that maybe she was just trying to think of a polite response.

"I'm sorry, that night, I didn't mean to kiss you, I just got so caught—" She rambled, but Satoru quickly cut her off, shaking his head as if she could see him. He felt terrible that she blamed herself for what happened when it was him who voluntarily ended things with you.

"No, it wasn't that. I broke up with Y.N. I told her that I didn't want to lie to her and that I fell for someone else and…" Satoru trailed, pursing his lips when he realized that he had basically just confessed to her. A small gasp escaped her lips, and Satoru couldn't help but smile at the thought of her being flustered by his confession. He thought about how she was probably blushing right at that moment, and he wondered if she'll accept it. He was hoping that she would accept it this time.

"Still, I feel bad about it. She wouldn't have to go through the heartbreak if it wasn't for me." She doesn't know you, yet she was concerned about you. It only made Satoru admire her more. Awestruck about how the beauty of her heart matched the beauty of her appearance.

"I explained everything to her. I wouldn't just leave her like that. She's been a big part of my life too. And she's a great person." His words brought him back to the thoughts of you. You never really did anything wrong. If anything, you've been nothing but good to him. When you fight, you always own up to your wrongs, even if it was him who caused it. It's just that his feelings for her resurfaced again, and this time the surges were too strong to ignore. To him, it was like they really were meant to meet again.

"She wouldn't hold it against me. She's not like that." His eyes were downcasted as he reminisced about how you handled everything well. He could see how broken you were, yet you did everything you could to hold it back. All you ever did was understand him.

"It must've been tough for the both of you; I'm sorry." She breathed out, and Satoru had to force himself to turn away from the thoughts of you crying yourself to sleep. He doesn't want it to be like that for you. He hoped that you'd find someone else or something else to turn your attention to because he's really not worth it. Not anymore. Not after he broke your heart like that, not after he threw you away like that.

He hoped that you'd find happiness in others too.

"Stop saying sorry; I was the one who decided this. It's not your fault." Satoru paused, trying to think of all the words that could console the girl and stop her from blaming herself for your split. It's true that the reason why Satoru broke up with you was her, but it was not her intention. He's the one who fell, and he's the one who chose to break your heart. No one else should shoulder the guilt but him.

"I'll see you on Friday, then? I'll pick you up. Just send me the address." He switched the topic, lightening up the mood and distracting himself. He thought that he shouldn't drag her with his heavy feelings. He told himself that it'll pass. That everything will fall right into place and that you will be able to start again soon.

He'd like to keep you close, even as friends like how the two of you started, but he doesn't know if that would be good for you. He knows he wouldn't be able to put you back together, but he wants to stay in contact to ensure you're doing alright.

These are only proofs that he truly cares for you.

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Suguru called you the morning after while they were hanging out, asking why you weren't with Satoru. You could even hear voices in the background when he called, whispering amidst the voices of their friends.

"What happened?" was the first thing he said when you picked up. You ignored his first two calls, letting them go straight to voicemail until now, the third one. Only because he threatened to drag you out of your apartment to explain everything to him. You cleared your throat and even spoke a few words before answering just to make sure that you didn't sound like a dying horse.

You don't know how much you cried, but your head feels numb on the outside and throbbing on the inside. It felt like a long needle was piercing from the top of your skull, down to your jaw. The alcohol made it all worse.

But not worse than the ache in your chest.

"We broke up. It's fine, though. I get him." You laughed half-heartedly, doing your best to convince the man that everything was going great on your side. It definitely didn't work because he was already banging on your door a few minutes after he called, glaring at the video intercom.

"What did he do?" He asked you, letting himself in and sitting on the couch. He pulled out a flattened packet of cigarettes from his pocket before taking out a stick and setting it between his lips. The sound of the carton hitting the top of the small wooden table as he threw it was sharp, cutting through the silence of the room, and the clicking of his lighter sounded louder than it should. You haven't prepared how to explain everything to him yet. Or to anyone.

You don't know how to tell them that Satoru fell in love with someone else.

"He's going to call you, you know." You pressed your back against the door, looking down as you heard him slide the nearest window open. It was a futile attempt to hide your swollen and red eyes. It was funny how he thought Satoru and you broke up because he did something. It started to hurt more because you know that they didn't see it coming too.

"It wasn't like that. He just…he found someone else." You finally looked up at him, seeing his eyebrows furrow as he blew out a thick puff of smoke. A hint of pity, confusion, and irritation flashed in Suguru's eyes, and you could tell that you were up for a longer interrogation than you'd like to undergo.

"It's okay, Sugu. I understand that feelings fade, and he doesn't feel the same way towards me anymore. He probably saw something in her or maybe nothing at all. He just fell in love with her, and that's it." You shrugged, feeling your hands start to shake. All muscles in your body were trembling as you reached out for the rectangular carton. You went to your drawer for a lighter, inhaling before letting out all of your sorrow.

"You're smoking again?" He asked, eyeing the cancer stick in your fingers as if he wasn't holding the same thing between his. You remember entirely withdrawing from all your bad habits at some point in your relationship with Satoru. You can't remember exactly when, but you're sure that it's because of him.

He doesn't smoke, and he doesn't drink. Somehow, it made you want to be a better person for him, and so you did. You once thought that you'd never be able to give them up, but your determination to change for Satoru was stronger than you think. He always gave you gentle reminders of how bad they were for you. Your parents used to do that too, but it seems that your brain could only listen to Satoru.

"I thought I should join you." Your laugh has no hints of joy in them. It sounded like you were just pushing it out of your chest, and you can't understand why because you already swore to yourself that you're fine. You should be happy that Satoru is not hurting along with you. You should be happy that he has someone by his side.

You love him so you should be happy for him.

"Satoru isn't here anymore. There's no one holding me back." You tried joking again, turning around to walk into the kitchen and pour a glass of juice for your concerned visitor. You made up your mind. You'll just do what you can to forget about everything. The world will turn, people will move on, and you will forget. You'll take whatever you think can help you with it.

Suguru pressed the burning end of the cigarette on the ashtray before following you to the kitchen. "I'm gonna be honest, I asked him about this already, but I didn't believe what he said." He sighed as he sat down. You pushed the glass of orange juice towards him, wiping your hands on the back of your shorts before leaning on the counter. "It was our high school classmate. We didn't think it would be like that." He looked down, tracing the glass. Suguru started to feel guilty that they had even planned that party. He blamed himself for letting Satoru take her home that night, knowing that he used to have feelings for her.

"That night, I should've offered her a ride instead. I thought Satoru was over her, Y/N." He confessed, looking at you with apologetic eyes, which you could only answer with a smile. Your face felt numb, but your body moved the way you wanted it to. Nothing feels real around you, but none of it matters because the only thing you want is to put everyone at ease and not pity you for the downfall of your love story.

"It's not because of that, don't think that way. I bet it would still happen even if they were in a different situation. Ever since high school, you say? First love never dies, Suguru. It was bound to happen." You put the cigarette between your lips again, hollowing your cheeks as you look away, ignoring the stinging pain that your own words brought to your chest. You stared at the empty skies through the small kitchen window, wondering how Satoru must've felt when he saw her again.

He probably forgot all about you right at that instant.

He probably felt a strong pull, a stern reminder that he doesn't belong to you but to her. He probably realized that he was just waiting for her to come back. You thought about how his feelings for you probably started to dull immediately after he laid eyes on her. It was killing you, but you have to make yourself understand that you have to let go because he doesn't want to be yours anymore. And there's nothing you can do about that.

"He said he still wants to know about you. You're important to him, Y/N." He said before taking a sip, face scrunching a bit from the slightly sour taste. He's really concerned about what your relationship with him and the rest of your friends would be like after this. You grew close together, and they understand that you might want to avoid Satoru, but they also want you around. It's like your friendship is also getting crushed by all that is happening.

"I don't even know if you'd still stay in touch with us after this. I mean, they'd be there, you know. He might not have a problem with you being around, but I don't want to put you through that." Suguru knows that you'd want to stay connected to them, but he doubted that you'd want to be in the same room with Satoru. If he puts himself in your shoes, he can only see himself hating Satoru for leaving so abruptly for someone else. He'd feel betrayed and cheated on. He'd think that all he ever said to him were lies and probably curse him for the rest of his life.

But the smile on your face says otherwise. Seeing you nod in agreement was the last response he expected from a woman who got dumped. Your face looked so serene as you blankly stared at the table. He could only imagine how painful and hard it would be for you to be around the people who are the reason for your pain.

"It's fine. We all started as friends, after all. I can still join you guys sometimes." You looked up at him with a more stable gleam in your eyes. Unlike earlier, the storm swirling inside them was long gone. He doesn't know how you'll move forward if you'll be seeing Satoru more often than exes should see each other. He doesn't know if it's just your coping mechanism or if you're just trying to numb yourself from the pain by exposing yourself to it. You couldn't have accepted it all that fast. Or could you?

Maybe they don't really know the extent of your love for Satoru.

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"They won't be here, don't worry. Satoru said there's this movie that his girlfriend wants to watch, and they might not make it on time." Shoko spoke through the phone. You stared at your blurry reflection on the bottle of vodka. You don't know if the glass is unclear or if you can't see straight anymore. You had the urge to drink just a few hours before going to your friend's birthday, and you're convincing yourself that it'd be alright.

"It's fine even if they come. It's not like I'll be going there for them." You poured what you promised to be the last shot. The third promise, to be exact. You told yourself it's okay, knowing that you've taken more alcohol back then than now. Before Satoru happened, it's already been your salvation from your negligent parents and chaotic home. There should be no difference.

"I'll be fine, Shoko." You added, sighing as you down another glass before standing up. The promise you made to yourself that you'd only drink that night was long forgotten. They're the only things that could offer you the sweetest escape right now. Why not entertain them for a bit more? You'd rather drown in your favorite drink than drown in your thoughts. The latter is far more painful.

"Don't drink." Shoko reminded you, hearing you hum, which probably put more worry in her brain. Suguru and her have been visiting you ever since that night. You reassured them that there's nothing to apologize for, but they insisted that they wanted to be there for you. You genuinely appreciate it, but at the end of the day, you're still alone with your thoughts.

During those three weeks, it felt like time passed by so slowly. When he texted you that he was coming back for his things, you chose to leave the house and replied with, "I'm not home, let yourself in." He didn't ask why you weren't home, probably aware that you're still trying to avoid him to protect yourself.

When Shoko hung up, you decided that you'd take a shower which ended in you sitting on the floor for 30 minutes thinking about everything and nothing at once. After that, you decided to nap, which horribly failed because you couldn't sleep. You sat down in the kitchen, scrolling through your phone, and once again, ended up with another glass of liquor. You'd be drunk when you get to her house, but it's okay; you'd be drinking there anyways.

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"You know you can cancel our plans, right?" Satoru heard his girlfriend speak as he put on his coat. He feels awful about not getting to attend Shoko's birthday, but he also doesn't want his girlfriend to feel like he's neglecting her. This is the first time that she has planned a date for the two of them, and he doesn't want to let her down.

"It's okay. She understands." He sighed, cupping her cheeks and kissing her forehead. Their relationship has been going well these past few weeks. A couple of dates, and the next thing he knows, they're already sleeping next to the comfort of each other. Satoru can't remember how often he used to imagine it back then, and now he can't believe it's finally real and true.

He's happy. And in the back of his mind, there's you. How are you doing? Have you been eating? Are you getting enough sleep? The day he packed the rest of his things from your apartment, he hoped to talk to you. 'For closure,' he told himself. He doesn't even know if he'll ever see you again. The thought alone makes him restless, and he doesn't even understand why.

"About your ex. Is she going to be there?" As if reading his mind, his girlfriend asked him, snapping him out of his thoughts. She's been curious about you, and Satoru thinks that it wouldn't be respectful to introduce you to the reason why he left. Not this soon, at least.

"Maybe we should just go to Shoko's. I want to meet her, really. It might seem weird, but I want to thank her and apologize at the same time," She's sweet and very caring. Those are one of the qualities that drew Satoru more to her and he thinks you two were so similar in that way.

"I don't know how she'll take it. I know she wouldn't hurt you. But she might not be ready for that yet, Rie." He held her hand as he pulled her closer to him. Satoru doesn't plan on rubbing off his new relationship to your face. He doesn't want to disrespect you like that, but he also knows that you can't avoid each other forever, especially if you have the same friends.

"Don't you think she'll be able to accept it faster if you introduce me?" She sighed, genuine concern evident in her angelic features. Satoru doesn't even know if you'll be there. He doesn't know how his friends would react, but he found himself saying 'okay' to his girlfriend's wishes.

He kind of wants to see you, too, anyway.

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"You're finally here," Suguru greeted you when you came in, pulling you by your arm. He happened to be near the door when you came in, and you could never be more thankful because the room was full of Shoko's friends, people you don't know. You're not really good with new people. Just a couple of awkward smiles and nods as you and Suguru walked past them.

"Listen, Y/N" You looked at Suguru with a confused gaze when he pulled you to an empty hallway. "Satoru and his girlfriend decided to show up. Will you be fine?" So, that's why he's around the front door. He was waiting for you to tell you this in advance.

"Shoko said it's fine if you feel uncomfortable and want to go home. We can just celebrate without them tomorrow." Suguru looked around, taking a deep breath. His eyes were clearly worried about you. He knows that you already said that you're fine with it, but still, he felt the need to make sure that you're alright.

"It's fine. I'm already here." You chuckled, punching his shoulder a bit. You meant it when you said that you'd be fine. Your decision to drink before driving here, as dangerous as it sounds, is a good thing. Now, you have the courage to face them, even just for an hour. You don't want to abandon your good friends just because of a stupid break-up. You clenched your teeth as you thought of how you'd act around them.

Should you act all friendly and smiley around them? It would seem fake, right? Considering the blow that the split delivered to you, you thought that it might seem pretentious for you to act all sunshine and rainbows around them. Or should you act cold and ignore them the whole time? Like you don't see them. That would definitely make you look bitter. It's so easy to cross out.

The best and definitely not the easiest option is to act like you don't care. Like it's not tearing down every barrier you built around yourself during the past three weeks. Like he doesn't affect you anymore. Just talk to them if they talk to you. If they don't, then it's better. You want to save the remaining pieces of your heart from another hit.

"Satoru said earlier that they got plans." Suguru exhaled, tapping his feet on the wooden floor. Clearly frustrated and stressed. Despite your reassurance that you're good with being friends again, he still doesn't want you to go through something like this when it hasn't even been a full month since Satoru broke your heart. Yet, here he is again, rubbing salt on the wound.

"It's okay, let's go." You tapped his shoulder, surrendering to your cruel fate and accepting the waves of ache that are already radiating around the house.

"Wait," He grabbed your arm when you walked past him, leaning closer to you before furrowing his brows. "Are you drunk? You drove here drunk?"

"Just had a few drinks. Come on." You said dismissively as you walked farther into the house to the backdoor. Suguru knows that you've been drinking again, but he didn't think that you'd be taking it to this length. They've seen this before. They know your tendencies, but they didn't think that your separation from Satoru would trigger it again. It's been years since you decided to give up all of your vices for him.

"Y/N," Shoko welcomed you the moment you stepped out to the backyard. It was almost as if she's been watching it for your arrival, probably because of the two people on the love seat staring at you. Shoko hugged you as you handed her your gift, smiling and greeting her a happy birthday.

'She looks so good with him,' was your first thought as you smiled kindly at them, tugging at the long sleeves of your shirt. It felt like all the energy that you had in your body was drained just by one simple expression. Their hands are linked together as the woman looks at you with an apologetic gaze. You're sure that Satoru told her about what happened with the two of you. You're sure that he told her about how he left you to be with her, and it fucking stings because now you can see why.

She's charming. Pink lips with porcelain skin and eyes that held a gentle gaze. Her hair is perfectly framing her angelic face, and the soft smile that sets on her lips makes you feel like dropping to your knees and raising your arms up in surrender because why else would you fight? You haven't even talked to her, you don't even know how she was, yet you already know that you're no match.

She's perfect for him.

"I told you not to drink," Shoko whispered to you. She knows how much you've been drinking these days. She told you that you can't just go back to your old ways because it's been so long, and your body might react differently to it this time. Being a Med graduate, Shoko is always the one reminding you about your health. Even though she herself smokes too.

"It's fine. Just a few shots." You chuckled at her as she pulled you to sit with her. You couldn't bring yourself to care about the tension in the air as the alcohol seeps down into your veins, more and more by the second. You cannot recall how many shots you took before coming, but you assumed that it's just enough for you to be able to drive here.

"Why do you always have to look this good?" Mei mei rolled her eyes playfully at you as you sat down beside her. Across you were Satoru and his girlfriend. You gave them a nod and a smile before going back to conversing with your friends. You didn't bother checking their reactions. They'd probably look at you with pity again. You don't need it.

Satoru can tell that you're drunk even if he's sitting a couple of meters from you. He knows that tint on your face and the glazed look in your eyes too well to not know. Something in him stirred when he thought of how you might be going back to your drinking habits again.

"Is that her?" Rie clutched his arm as she looked at you. Satoru just hummed, leaning back on his chair. He kept looking at you every now and then. He saw you smile at them earlier, and he wouldn't admit it, but the throb in his heart almost knocked the breath out of his lungs. He didn't expect you to even look at them. Yet, you're here, offering your kindest greetings.

You caught up about lots of things, and as if it was an unspoken rule, your friends never mentioned anything that could lead to the topic of your relationship with Satoru. It's either them recalling the hangouts they had in the past or them teasing you about taking them on vacation somewhere. Not long after, the group is already scattered around, chatting with other people.

The drinks are the only thing attractive to your eyes. You found yourself standing beside it as you down shot after shot. Joking around with some people who happen to pass by. You almost forgot about the culprit for your bleeding heart as you drown yourself in alcohol. You don't get drunk so fast, and you consider it as talent now.

"Hi, Y/N." A soft voice called out behind you. You turned around to see the woman who won your beloved's heart. You smiled back at her before looking ahead and seeing Satoru looking at you as he talked to their friends. Did he ask her to talk to you?

"I came here by myself. He didn't ask me to do it." The woman clarified, understanding the meaning of your gaze at her boyfriend. "Look, I just want to say I'm sorry about what happened between you and Satoru. I-I didn't me—" You actually didn't want to hear it. It made you feel even more sorry for yourself.

You know what hurts more than getting dumped? It's when the person they dumped you for is better than you in every aspect. You chuckled at the thought as you cut her off.

"It's alright. Don't apologize. I can see why." You tried to lighten up the mood, giving her a short laugh, but she only looked at you with a sympathetic gaze. You wanted to go home. You suddenly wanted to run away. You wished that she didn't approach you. Even if she was trying to apologize, it only made you feel worse. Your feelings have been all over the place these past few weeks, but you cannot understand any of them anymore.

"I'm gonna go chat with Shoko now. We gotta ca—" You were caught off guard when she held your wrist to stop you. This is something you never let any of your friends know, but you've been cutting. It wasn't anything serious, but you needed it as an outlet for all of the sorrow that you're currently feeling inside you. When you felt like no tears were falling from your eyes anymore, your body started to seek another type of release for all of your pent-up emotions.

You winced in pain at the sudden contact, pushing her away from you as you pulled back your arm. The drink you were holding spilled on her clothes and hair. Your eyes widened in shock as you processed the situation and what you've done.

"Rie!" Satoru called for her name and rushed to her side, helping her up. He wiped her face as he looked at you in disbelief. He didn't think that you'd react like this. He understands if you feel upset, but he didn't think that it would get to the point where you'd try to humiliate and even physically harm his girlfriend.

Everyone's looking at the three of you. You can see Suguru and Shoko rushing toward you too. They don't know if they should hold you, seeing you slightly shiver at the weight of the scene in front of you. They definitely think that you pushed the woman. You thought as you shook your head, mouth opening to find the words to explain.

"I'm sorry, I didn't m-mean to. I was caught by surpr—" You were cut off with Satoru grabbing your shoulder and shaking you violently. You were scared as tears started to pool in your eyes. You've never seen him like this before. And he's never laid a hand on you. Ever.

So, he'd really hurt you for her.

You let a tear fall from your eyes as he glowered at you. The eyes that one's held nothing but love and affection for you are now looking at you with the sharpest glare, shooting daggers at you. It was more painful than when he broke up with you.

"Why would you go this far?! You could've hurt me instead if you're so sour about our relationship!" He shouted at you. You were shaking, thinking of how you could explain this without saying that you've been harming yourself to cope with the broken heart that he left you.

"Satoru, that's enough. Let her explain." Suguru tried to calm him down, grabbing his arms. Shoko was behind you, trying to take you away. You thought that all of the alcohol that you consumed was enough to completely numb yourself, but this pain is just too much. It's pushing its way out of your heart, spreading to your lungs, and shooting up and down your spine.

It felt like a bullet was roaming freely, wildly inside your body—destroying every single organ in its path.

"Explain what?! That she's being so insecure and jealous that she had to harm Rie to feel better about herself?!" You started to sob as you tried to squeeze your way out of his grasp.

"I'm sorry, Satoru…" The crack in your voice as you whimper from the pain—both from his harsh grip and the piercing one in your chest. His eyes widen as you tremble, eyes staring up at him with both fear and agony. He's hurting you. He let his hold on your arms loosen, watching as you ran away from the scene, ignoring Shoko and Suguru's calls as they ran after you.

Everybody was silent, shocked at what had just happened in front of them. Satoru can never miss the disappointed look in their eyes. What he said and did just sunk into him, and he couldn't believe it. He overreacted. He didn't even listen to you. He felt Rie hugging his arms, but he couldn't bring himself to hold her back.

"Let's just go, 'Toru." Rie intertwined her fingers with his, squeezing his hand to snap him out of his trance. He can see everyone clearing the backyard and moving inside the house. Shoko pushes past them to rush to him, grabbing him by the collar with teary eyes.

"What the hell was that? How could you do that to her in front of all these people, Satoru? How could you treat her like that?" He doesn't know what to answer. He only realizes how afraid you might be. He had never hurt you like that before. Even in your worst fights, he had never physically hurt you.

"Where is she?" Satoru asked, hearing Rie try to apologize, but the sound of Shoko's phone ringing cut her off. He felt his fingertips grow cold when he saw Shoko's face go pale. Her breaths were shaky as her usually emotionless eyes widened with panic and horror.

"What?" She gasped as her eyes slowly looked at Satoru's face. He's getting a terrible feeling about the call. Like a crawling shadow, looming over him, ready to engulf him and his world whole. "Satoru…" She whispered out his name, voice shaking along with her breath intake.

"What's going on, Shoko? Where is Y/N?" His heartbeat was getting irregular as dread filled all of his senses. Something terrible had happened, and he could see it in the way Shoko's pupils dilated, all light drained from them. Her following words turned Satoru's world upside down. His knees went weak as he lost feeling in all of his limbs. It was like being dropped into a pool of ice-cold water.

"Y/N got into an accident."

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#angst #gojo satoru #gojo satoru angst #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojo satoru x you #Jujutsu Kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst

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cripplecharacters · 22 days

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Hiya, I'm hoping you can help me understand if an idea I have is problematic. I'm writing a fantasy novel at the moment where the main character (who is overcome by guilt for something she did by accident), undergoes a ritual to make herself look as awful as she thinks she is. I'm not 100% sure on the details of what this looks like yet, but at the moment I'm considering something like having the bones of small animals embedded under her skin. Running out of text so will continue in another ask.

Continued from first ask. The idea is that she wants people to be disgusted when they see her, because she can't tell anyone about the accident she caused, but still wants to feel punished. I'm partly inspired by my own experiences of self harm, of wanting to see a visual representation of pain. I'm wondering if this kind of disfigurement is problematic, especially considering it's not reflecting a real condition and that its not a villain. Any insight would be greatly appreciated!

Hi dearest asker!

It doesn't mimic anything of a disability nor is it a fantasy disability in your setting so I think it's good! It is more Body Horror than anything but what I would do is while you're figuring the aspect of the character, is research extensively and make sure it doesn't align with any real conditions. This does kinda balance on the edge of Disability As Punishment because of just the concept, but using your own experiences is what matters here!

Also here is a good post about body horror and disability that makes some good points and has good ideas too!

I actually want to reiterate from the post on how they cite stuff like Junjo Ito and Kafka on a way of expression though Body Horror which (to my understanding, if not feel free to correct me) is like you're doing. Others I would recommend is Frida Kahlo, where she does this in some of her paintings (Here & Here) and in many others.

Other movies like Swan Lake (2010) and Annihilation (2018), also take this concept and do really well with it in my opinion. (Both centered around self-harm and other things) Pain Exhibit is a non-profit online library where people who are disabled or have chronic pain all share their artwork depicting it and is another great example.

This article What Is Body Horror? makes so many good points and it cites a lot of good books, novels, and short stories. It goes into the different aspects of it and really breaks it down into sections. (I want to warn before anyone clicks on that link that it talks about extensive body horror in details). A lot of people's perception of Body Horror has long been associated with people with disabilities. So I think more stories written on actual depictions of what is and people's personal experiences it is so good!

Happy writing! (and I hope the story goes well it sounds really good!)

~ Mod Virus 🌸

#mod virus #body horror #disability as punishment #the-crane-dance

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cupcraft · 2 months

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Okay but what really guts me about S6E21 the therapy episode is the moment where I think House really feels like Dr. Nolan's not hearing him or getting him which contributes to his feelings of distrust to um gtfo of therapy 5ever. Which this is not to say House should've done that or that Dr. Nolan is bad, it's more like this contributed quite a lot because well I'm making 0 sense let me explain.

So, I'm thinking about the scene where Dr. Nolan was like "what do you think Cuddy & Wilson talked about together. Walk me through the conversation?" House does and he basically concludes to his therapist that his interpretation of his friends is that they view him as the "House Problem" that they're more worried he's going to do something "bad" or "attention seeking" or "[insert anti-addict recovery rhetoric/ablelism/etc thing] here" because of Wilson kicking House out, out of the blue. And in a way, this is truthful and from an audience's perspective it is a believable interpretation. House is generally pretty perceptive about the people around him and their impression of him given that he does purposefully construct a certain impression of himself (so that he is not harmed by people by allowing himself to be genuine). And even though Cuddy and Wilson are the people he's the most genuine to, he still self-destructs around them and struggles with trust. Anyway, based on how Wilson and Cuddy have handled a lot of things in the past (not everything) such as the Morphine/saline thing, the first time he went cold-turkey on opiates, the tritter situation, forcing him to go to his abusive father's funeral, etc. it really does seem believable they'd view him as the House Problem, or in a way it makes sense House thinks that way overall.

Though this is not to say House is right. He is right and valid to think that they'd be worry he'd relapse/etc. and he is right to have trauma from previous horrible responses done to him and thus not have faith in any different. But House is in fact wrong because Cuddy and Wilson do genuinely care about him and do not actually see him at this current stage in the show as the "House Problem". Especially Wilson, which it was clear Wilson later realized his actions were impulsiveness and fucked up and not at all recovery informed (especially as the person of stability he agreed to be for House's recovery) since House felt forced to go back home. There's also the issue that Wilson created a home for him and House (as reiterated by Dr. Nolan and the fact the thing Wilson chose for himself was the organ, solidifying House's permanency in that home) only for him to be like jk i dont see a future for you here even though Sam who hates you doesnt mind. House doesn't realize that a Cuddy/Wilson conversation would be done out of care and guilt of an impulsive mistake and not because they just keep him around to stop him from being a "Problem".

SO, Dr. Nolan does challenge this rightfully so but he doesn't do it in the right way which contributes to House feeling unheard and stuck and realizing god I am miserable and i distrust this. Dr. Nolan challenges it by imagining the conversation in a way we the audience knows would not be how at the very least Wilson would talk. He posits Wilson as a very rational person to the point it is comical because Wilson is also toxic and irrational (again the very thing that Nolan says it was a home for you both and then he kicked House out!). I think even House recognizes this because he looks as though Nolan grew a second head like what on earth Wilson would never say that which I think really in the end makes House feel unheard. Because the message "Hey Wilson and Cuddy do in fact love and care about you" didn't come across. The "I think wilson is being rational" is what actually comes across, when House feels hurt by Wilson over what is an irrational reaction (especially given Wilson's apology to house goes poorly and comes off as more guilt than accountability, see the apartment scene).

So it guts me. it guts me that their communication got crossed and the outcome didn't work out. That House felt unheard and that Nolan wasn't able to reach him. Because it does bode poorly for House to leave therapy right now as he is at a point of crisis in his support network and he's returned home to the place that is triggering to him for a lot of reasons (hallucination/relapse/etc).

and as always for my ramblings feel free to add on/send asks/etc. :)

#house md #meta #just polite discussions ofc

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ovaryacted · 8 months

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Okay I’m home and chilled out, so I’m just gonna ramble about my thoughts/analysis that I keep having about perceiving Leon Kennedy as a sexual being. This might be long. I also want to reiterate that my word is not law, and everyone has their own hcs and stuff and that’s okay!

I know hard dom content is very popular across the erotica/smut medium as a whole. Rough sex has always been popular and trust me, I’m a fan too. But if I can be controversial for like two seconds, I don’t see Leon as a hard dom personally. Closest thing would be a rough daddy dom, but to me Leon always gave me someone who caters to their partner. He’s loving and affectionate, a little rugged and awkward sure, but nonetheless he cares and wants to give a good experience.

He studies his partner, learns about what makes them tick, what makes them moan, how their body responds to different stimuli. Leon is a perceptive human being, he observes things before fully handling them so he can take the best approach that gives him the best results. I think he’d approach sex the same way if he’s with someone that he cares for.

In a weird way, I also don’t think Leon is a sex god of sorts. He’d have to find the time and ability to actually experiment with different dynamics and kinks to figure out what he likes too. It’ll all be a learning process for him, but to me Leon is someone that prioritizes his partner’s pleasure above his own because that’s what gets him off. If you feel good, he feels good. He gets off on getting you off type of deal, that’s who he is.

I also think Leon’s sexual dynamics depend on where he is in his life. When he’s younger, he’s naive, grasping on to whatever makes sense so he’d be more inclined to letting someone else lead and show him things he wouldn’t know at first (hence why a lot of ppl write RE2 Leon as a sub). As he gets older, gets more experience here and there, he’d try building more of his own confidence and autonomy and realize he has the ability to take control. Consider RE4/ID/RE6, he’s smarter, more aged, more mature (it’s the trauma), so he’d be more able to take charge like others paint him out to be but I don’t think he’d be inherently “aggressive”, far from it really. He’s serious about communication and being vocal, because he has to hear whether or not he’s doing the right thing or he needs to tweak something for a better experience. He’s not selfish he’s a sweetheart, that I can stand ten toes on.

The period of time in Vendetta to me is where I would see the rough sex come out because he’ll be using it as a means of self harm. He wouldn’t want to hurt another person, but more so he doesn’t care about himself, so his actions will be considered “reckless” and he won’t realize the consequences of what he does until after it happens. He’s suicidal, depressed, an alcoholic, and exhausted with life…so whatever he does in the bedroom would reflect that. Leon would probably want someone to fuck him instead of the other way around, but what he says he wants vs what he really wants deep down would be considered two things. He says he wants the rough stuff and he’s detached when in reality he wants to be comforted and wants someone to treat him like a human being, not something to be discarded. He just wouldn’t vocalize that because he doesn’t think his wants or needs matter. You’d have to read him and dictate for yourself because he’s too ashamed of saying it out loud. (I will say Vendetta Leon is one of my favorite variations of him and he deserves all the love and safety his other versions get! He’s just an angst magnet lmao).

Now in DI and beyond, he has healthier relationship with things, probably more aware of his alcohol consumption and age, and possibly going to therapy. In a way, I think Leon at this age would be far more inclined to revert back to the way he was at 21, little childish, letting someone else lead because he finds safety in that. Many people believe submission assumes someone loses their power entirely, but the way I perceive it, it’s you being able to trust someone else to make decisions for you in your best interest.

So he would be very switchy as he gets he’s older, liking being submissive because that allows him to turn his brain off and let someone else take charge for him. He won’t have to make the choices for once, and either way so long as his partner feels good, he feels good.

As a dynamic character, this is just how I perceive Leon, and to me he’s more of a pleasure dom, and probably likes being dominated but it’ll take him a while to be comfortable in doing that after everything. Hence, why I want to write for sub Leon more, because I think he deserves to just feel safe in giving up control he never really had in his life.

#ovaryacted thoughts #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #yeah sub Leon supremacy #this is my brand lmao #and I’m gonna do it #watch me

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call-sign-shark · 10 months

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Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: John is dead. Your whole world crumbles. Arthur and you are facing your first real argument, and everything grows out of control -- featuring Tommy Shelby x Reader.

Words: 5.8k

TW: Extreme angst - read at your own risk, graphic depiction of violence, domestic violence, mention of drug use, canonical violence, graphic depiction of murder, major character death, self-harm, guilt trip, co-dependent relationship.

Notes:

✞ Read the notes at the end.

Previous || Masterlist || NEXT

The creaking which resounded in the whole morgue when the door opened sent shivers down Tommy’s spine. The infamous Peaky Blinders’ boss was standing next to the mortuary table, staring at the ashen face of his little brother, frozen in a peaceful expression. Although Tommy tried his best to remain neutral, the way his enchanting turquoise eyes gleamed belied his profound sorrow. A sorrow so distressing that he was not even able to express it – instead, his negative thoughts piled up inside of his already decaying heart. First Grace, then John… Tommy let out a long exhale from his nostrils while going on with his morbid contemplation. How many more deaths would he have to endure before his hunger for power was sated? “Fuck, I’m sorry John.” He whispered, softly pressing his large hand on his brother’s muscular shoulder. The sensation of John was cold and hard, even above the fabric of his blood-stained shirt, “It wasn’t supposed to happen.” His hand then reached for the funeral shroud and pulled it over his brother’s chest, which had been riddled with bullets. He did not want John to look weak, even in death. He wished for people to recall his joy and strength, not his troubled last moments. “I’m sorry.” He reiterated, offering a last apologetic look at his little brother before turning around at the sound of someone’s heels beating the cold tiled floor. Tommy’s forehead creased as he furrowed his brows: he had not been expecting anyone now that Arthur and Esme had left.

“Tommy.”

The hypnotizing and melodious voice that called him led him to briefly open his eyes wide in surprise — especially when he recognized its owner. And when he did, his face immediately hardened. It was only seconds later that he saw you walking towards him with hastened steps, rivers of tears still streaming down your angelic face. He didn’t know what surprised him the most though, to see you here in this morgue, to hear you calling him “Tommy” and not “Thomas” for the very first time, or maybe the unexpected way you threw yourself into his arms. In fact, it was certainly a bit of the three at once. As soon as your body collapsed with his, the gangster’s muscles tensed, and his placid expression shifted into a stunned one: your affection had taken him aback.

“Oh my God, Tommy…” You were crying your eyes out, your face buried in the crook of his neck. He could even feel the warm wetness of your tears on his skin, the little salty drops running down his chest and dying under his shirt. Esme had told him everything. Tommy blinked a few times to chase away the surprise and, gradually, his body relaxed as he felt your frail being snuggling against him, the freezing sensation of your dainty frame meeting the warm temperature of his skin even separated by the clothes you were wearing. He gave you a quick glance from above your head to check if what was happening was true and, finally, he sighed. As his arms wrapped around you softly, you felt like you were falling apart and, ironically, the only thing that held you together at this very moment was Thomas Shelby. The man you hated since day one.

“I’m here.” His quiet and deep voice simply stated, soon followed by his arms tightening around you and his fingers gently diving into your waist, not willing to let you go anymore. To hell with your mutual hatred, you thought, Tommy had just lost a brother and you wanted to be here for him too. Surely, all the ice of his heart couldn’t shield him from grieving a loved one.

What started as an awkward hug soon turned into a powerful embrace when Tommy indulged in your love. All the resent, all your past arguments, all the fear… The more you were pressing together, the more they were turned into dust, “I’m fuckin’ here.” One of his hands ran up your body only to rest on the back of your head, inviting you to nuzzle your nose in the crook of his neck even more – which was what you did, desperately looking for comfort.

“I can’t… I can’t let him go. I don’t want to.” Your voice was merely a desperate whimper, for the uncontrollable sobbing and the ball of sorrow in your throat wouldn’t allow you to align more words. Another hiccup — The excruciating sadness almost suffocated you when you realized that John’s dry blood was still stuck under your nails.

“He’s gone, Heaven.” His words, stone cold, made you shake like a leaf, to the extent that Tommy was now certain you would shatter if he were not holding you. He started rubbing your back with his powerful free hand, the other clenching its fingers on the back of your head, “Listen to me.” He started, holding you firmly against his strong body: he was not going to let you all apart.

“They fucking shot him! Ces enculés lui ont tiré dessus!” You repeated in French, and of course he understood. He tried to hush your worries down but it didn’t work. Deaf to his attempt to comfort you, you gritted your teeth and let out a frustrated and painful cry. John was dead and your whole world felt like it was collapsing. Your little fists hit Tommy’s strong chest in a weak blow, anger taking over sadness as seconds passed. You were angry at him, at you, at Changretta, at the whole damn world. In truth, your mind didn’t know how to cope with grief anymore, and rather let you experience various emotions to test which one hurt the less. In response, the gangster restrained your movements by hugging you tighter and then, he brought his lips near your ear to keep you focused on him and only him.

“Hey, listen to me now.” He said with a firmer tone, catching your attention. You glanced at him and froze, realizing how dangerously close his face was, “I want you to calm down. You’re a fucking Shelby.” Despite his harsh words, Tommy’s tender caresses made amends for his toughness and managed to dry your tears up. His palms, then, wandered on your back and shoulders, stimulating every nerve of your quivering body to anchor you to reality, “There. Better.” He finally praised you, warming up your body with the sole power of his touch and rubs. Feeling calmer, you sniffed a little bit and tried to focus on the musky yet delicate fragrances of his cologne rather than on John’s corpse that was lying a bit further from you.

“Better.” You softly replied, surprisingly lulled by little King Shelby’s presence. A real miracle. Once comforted, you decided it was time for you to move your body from him and break the embrace though. After all, Tommy and you had never got along. Plus, you were pretty sure he wanted this to end as quickly as possible now that he had done his in-law duty. But, somehow, a little part of you still hope for this moment to improve your relationship from now. Maybe things wasn’t that hopeless? You were about to move but the gangster didn’t let you leave him. Quite the contrary, he pulled you closer until your breasts flattened against his chest and your cheek rested on his collarbone. Surprised, your lips parted but no sound came out.

“Stay.” Even though he did not mean it, his tone sounded like an order more than a request. Truth was, he couldn’t control it – the way his heart had quickened at the physical contact he was sharing with you unsettled him. As much as the thought that you came to him for comfort, not to your husband. Under the crushing weight of something he couldn’t name, Tommy delicately rubbed his perfectly shaven cheek against yours and buried his nose in your long white hair to get himself drunk with your spring-like perfume, “I’ll keep you out of sorrow, if you ask me,” He whispered, shutting his eyes tight and deepening his embrace again, until it became slightly painful. His thoughts swirled in his restless mind, and between plans for the Vendetta and the grief of John’s death, there was you. You and your intoxicating perfume. With his breath quickening and his lower lip trembling, Tommy allowed himself to sink into your softness, “And you’ll keep me out of it.” His husky voice was merely a murmur only you could hear. A soft whisper even the Grim Reaper, who was leaning over John and contemplating about where he was going to send him, did not catch.

“What do you mean?” You bated your doe lashes, confused at this sudden passionate demonstration of affection. But Tommy didn’t reply. In fact, he did not even hear a word you said for his mind was trying to cope with the overwhelming feelings and sensations that were drowning him. He felt like a sailor thrown into a raging see, desperately trying to keep his head above the water, and the only hope for him to survive was to cling onto you as hard as he could. The truth was it felt so good to have you in his arms, blessed with your holy and calming aura, that he had momentarily forgot what pain was like. For a split second, colors came back in his black and white life – something he hadn’t experience since Grace’s death. Letting out a relieved sigh, Tommy gently pulled his face away from you only for his mesmerizing turquoise eyes to dive into your celeste iris.

“It’s going to be alright, Tommy. It’s not your fault.” You stuttered, trying to comfort him too despite being slightly confused by his intense stare. Nevertheless, you could not help but commiserate with him, grief being one of the most universal human feelings to share. United in pain, you offered him a faint smile. The fearful gangster replied with utter silence – struck by the fact that he loved how his nickname sounded in your mouth. Only his brows frowned slightly as he watched you for the very first time: your big fair eyes, your long lashes, your plumped lips, the way your snow-white hair reflected the dull lights of the morgue… Last time he recalled having stared at you like this was during your first meeting, when his hand was wrapped around your throat. Worried by the unfamiliar ways he was looking at you, your little cold fingers grazed one of his hollow cheeks as softly as a feather’s caress to bring him back to his senses. A surge of electricity ran through his soul at the skin-to-skin contact. You touched him and, all of sudden, Tommy understood Arthur. He understood what he meant when he told him you were an angel. And after the epiphany came a moment of madness.

“No, it won’t.” He admitted with a sad tone you never suspected he was capable of. At his words, he finally gave in and broke the distance between your lips. Life flashed before your eyes, your brain momentarily ceasing to function at the soft press of his mouth. Tommy’s hand had wrapped itself around the back of your neck, keeping you from moving your face with one thick and strong palm. His kiss, eager but indescribably sensual, made your heart miss a small beat. It took you two solid seconds to realize what was happening, and one extra to push him away from you as he started to make it slow and deep with the wet stroke of his tongue. Forced to take a few steps back, his chest vibrated with a low groan of disappointment.

“No, Tommy.” You stuttered in a whisper, astounded by his bold and senseless move. Your fingertips grazed your swollen lips, still tingling with the sensation of his lips against yours, all the while your otherworldly pale eyes gawked at him wide open.

Tommy’s lashes fluttered, then he slightly shook his head to chase away the sweet torpor that had overtaken him for a short while. Regaining his composure, he clenched his jaws and tried to cope with your rejection. Admittedly, it had been a bit too much for him to handle. Why did he do that? What did happen in his goddamn mind? And how the hell could a woman say no to him? Unfortunately, Tommy couldn’t find any answer to these questions. All he found was frustration and anger, fueled by his unsufferable heartache of John’s death.

“No.” Tommy’s face closed up, going placid again while the blue of his iris turned two shades darker, “No” he repeated, trying his best to keep his emotions how he always did: hidden behind coolness, “So why did you come here and throw yourself in my arms?”

His question had taken you aback, for you didn’t expect him to wonder about such a trivial thing. Somehow, you wondered if he ever knew what the definition of platonic love was, or if all his interactions with women, except the ones from his family, always led him to their bed. “I just wanted someone to talk to...” Your eyes fled his, and you folded your arms to hug yourself, feeling suddenly freezing, “And I thought you’d maybe need someone too? I mean… I wanted to comfort you too. Just not—like this.” In truth, you were left agape by the whole misunderstanding. And by Tommy’s unfathomable mind.

Not minding that he was in a morgue, the King of Small Heath took of a cigarette from his pocket and rubbed it nervously on his lower lip before lighting it. Thoughts were now racing in his mind, along with your words. He could have dismissed the topic with a simple wave from his hand, but he couldn’t come to terms with how good you had made him felt for a few fleeting but intense minutes. Tommy’s chest rose and fell with rapid breath, for both shame and anger had crept into his bones. Why? He thought. Why did his brother had been allowed to meet you before he could? Why did Arthur, broken and fragile Arthur, had been allowed to have a loving woman by his side and not him? After all, he was the one who needed it the most. No, he was the one who deserved it the most. But now Grace was dead, all women he shared his bed with tended to leave an unpleasant after taste of ashes in his mouth, and the one he thought who could heal him didn’t want him. What kind of freaking curse was that? But in his inner turmoil and feeling of unfairness, Tommy forgot to take into account the real problem: you could do nothing for his heart. No one could.

“Alright then, you wanna talk? We gonna talk, ey. I wanna know something, Heaven. Why didn’t you save him ey?” A cloud of smoke escaped from his mouth, leaving you wondering if it was due to the cigarette or to his rage.

“Sorry?” You asked, feeling your shoulders tense.

He threw his cigarette further away before squinting his eyes as he talked to you “You resurrected a damn bird. Polly talked y’know. She told me you had the great power of healing, something that’s fucking rare. So why?”

“Why?! Why what?! What the hell are you implying?” You were starting to lose your patience, already fed up with his mean games. Moreover, your emotions was already all messed up with all the earliest events.

“Why the fuck didn’t you save John?! Why the fuck didn’t you bring him back to life?” His voice rose, resounding in the morgue so loudly that John probably heard it from where he was.

You blinked, astonished. “Because it doesn’t work like that, you fucking idiot!” You replied to his screams with louder ones, now troubling the dead’s final rest.

“Of course, it doesn’t. Isn’t it a bit ironic? I mean… For everyone, you’re a saint. For Arthur you’re a fucking angel, ey, even a divine being. But now that you have the occasion to use your wicked powers for something useful you can’t even do it!” His prose had turned into poison, seeping through your veins and contaminating soul.

“Thomas, stop it.” You begged, trying to remain calm. Surely, you didn’t want to argue right after John’s death. Especially not when he was there… You took a quick glance at his motionless body and your heart sank. Was it your fault?

“I told you what it is. You’ve bewitched all of them. You’ve bewitched me,” His eyes darkened, “All your so-called gifts come from the Devil... So come on! Bring John back to life, you fucking witch!” He was now pointing John with his index finger, “Bring him back now!”

“HIS HEART HAD STOPPED BEATING!” You howled, self-control breaking down.

“It doesn’t matter, you had let him die!”

“I didn’t!” You shook your head, rage taking over you, “It’s the blood. My witchcraft doesn’t come from the Devil, it comes from the fucking blood. From the human body. That’s what I manipulate. I could have done something if his heart had been still beating the slightest, or if it had just stopped. But it wasn’t the fucking case!” Tears of wrath left a moist trail on your skin as you wiped them away quickly with the palm of your hand, “He was dead for too long when I found him!” A short silence fell in the morgue after your attempt to justify yourself – Tommy didn’t buy it.

“It’s your fault.” He concluded in a quiet and low tone, desperately trying to both find someone to blame for his brother’s death, and wanting to make you pay for rejecting him.

“W-What?” His words had stabbed you right in the heart.

“It’s your fault if John is now lying in a fucking morgue, dead and cold. You have let him die.”

“I didn’t!” Your voice broke.

“You fucking did! Look at him now, look at his fucking corpse riddled with bullet! Look at the fuck you did, ey!” Tommy had stepped aside and pulled the shroud from John’s body. Doing so, he gave you full sight on his bloody chest, whose round bullet wounds were already darkening. Such a macabre spectacle momentarily broke the last bit of sanity you had left.

John, Oh John, your soul lamented.

“ENOUGH!” You yelled. The way your usually sweet voice screeched was so powerful, so inhumane that all the lights of the morgue flickered, rendering the place even more ominous than it already was. On top of the dancing lights, whose glow had been undermined by your own darkness, the atmosphere around Tommy thickened. The gangster swallowed the lump in his throat, suddenly overtaken by an unpleasant and eerie feeling of unease. In other circumstances, your brother-in-law’s change in behavior would have appeased you. Especially when considering that shutting up was not in Tommy’s habits. Nevertheless, far too hurtful words and years of restrained spite got the best of you: from the moment you met to this one, Tommy had been nothing but a bane. Anger rippled through you, hardening your maimed heart and blurring every notion of decorum you’d usually try to respect for Arthur’s sake, “You wanna make me your villain?” You had stopped screaming. Quite the contrary, your tone had turned from a bawling banshee to the quiet and sinister sigh of Death. With that last question posed, you extended one of your arms, palm facing Tommy, and spread your fingers, “I’ll give you a reason to fear me!”

At first, Tommy raised a brow wondering what the goal behind your move was. Then, the fact you dared to scream at him and insult him – certainly combined with your rejection – made rage coiled in his stomach. He opened his mouth, about to reply to your arrogance when words choked in his throat. Hit by a sudden and obliterating pain in the chest, Tommy pressed his hand were his heart was and looked up in terror as a thin trickle of blood started to run down one of his nostrils, dying his thin lips with a crimson color, “What—What are you doing to me?!” He stuttered, barely hearing his voice because of the sound of his own heart beating faster and faster echoed in his skull far too loudly. However, you didn’t answer him, far too consumed by the flames of your rage, licking though your delicate bones and dainty frame. With your hand still facing him, you started to close your fingers very slowly. Tommy coughed for each inch your fingers moved, his lungs were crushed harder in his tight chest. He wanted to scream – scream to let out the pain, scream to stop you, but the only noise he could make was muffled squeals, similar to an agonizing prey.

“Here is what I can do, Tommy! This is the pain I am capable to cause with my delicate and fragile little being! See? If I can heal, I can also make one sick and destroy them.”

“S—St—Stop...” He tried to beg, bloody mouth gaping, desperate for air. But this time he was not only met by your silence, but by the worsening of his pain to the extent that his legs were about to collapse. No, you didn’t want to stop. In fact, you wanted him to pay for everything. You wanted him to kneel.

“Beg.” Your voice echoed in the morgue and your eyes were staring coldly at Tommy Shelby who, crushed by the extreme pain you were exerting on his body, had no other choice than to rest one of his knees on the ground, right in front of you. The metallic taste of blood that kept running down his throat, thick and hot, enhanced his suffocating and labored attempt to breath. At this point Tommy had one certitude; you were going to kill him. Whether by a heart attack or by smashing his lungs to a pulp, it did not matter. What mattered was that, for the very first time since you met, he was at your mercy. Far too well he understood that all you had to do was to close your fist, and then he would end up lying down on the table next to John’s.

The shovels, the dirt in his mouth, everything came back to his mind as he fought to breath.

“Heaven!”

“Listen closely to what I’m about to say,” You spoke calmly, “I think I’ve had enough of your hypocritic ways and your unjustified battle against me, whose only goal is to tear me down. I am not going to kill you, Thomas Shelby. But if I spare you, it’s only because, first I don’t want to murder you in front of John, and then, because Arthur loves you. I don’t fucking know how he still does after every mean thing you’ve said and done to him, but the facts remain that he does.” You paused, finally reopening your hand, and lowering your arm. It didn’t take more for Tommy’s lungs to finally be able to stock air again and for his heart to return to a normal pace. The gangster immediately inhaled, still under the shock of what had just happened. Hands on the cold tiled floor, eyes wide open, he was shaking like a leaf in a raging storm, “So for Arthur’s sake and John’s memory, I want you to wear your most beautiful smile next time you’ll see me. Just like you told me the first time we met ey?”

By the time you’ve stopped stabbing him with your murderous and poisoned words, Tommy had managed to stand up on his quivering legs. Yet, he was still catching his breath and pressing one hand on his chest to alleviate the soreness of his lungs. He licked his lips to clean the blood off them, the taste of his own crimson essence reminding him of what he was: not a God. Much less the Devil. Just one simple mortal man. At this very moment, Tommy Shelby had lost his splendor. Still shaken and utterly terrified by your wicked abilities, little King Shelby looked at you, his face contorted in pure horror and disgust. “You…” His enchanting turquoise eyes, whose color made women’s head spin, were now glazed with an almost primal fear, “You’re a fucking monster.”

“At least we have something in common.” You retorted, before turning your heels and leaving the morgue. John’s spirit wasn’t there anyway.

Following your quarrel with your brother-in-law, all you wanted was to go back home and hide from this cruel world in Arthur’s arms; the only place in which you could find a bit of inner peace. Moreover, you knew he would certainly need you after his visit at the morgue. Your holy tears had flown from your eyes all the way home, only chased away by your delicate hands. The only thing that kept you from collapsing in the midst of the streets, weeping on the ground like a fallen angel, was the thought of finding your husband. It has always been you against the rest of the world anyway. So, what was your disappointment when hours flew and Arthur was nowhere to be seen.

A little sigh escaped from your lips as you poured the rest of the red wine bottle you had opened earlier in your glass. Once your glass was refilled with alcohol, you simply dragged your exhausted body to the living room and collapsed on the sofa, looking blankly at the dancing flames in the hearth. Before panic settled in, you thought that Arthur needed time for himself after being informed of his little brother’s death — which was perfectly fine and understandable. He had every right to stay with his family, grieving the loss of his own blood. But the more time passed, the more his absence was weighing on you. Feeling your sorrow, Kaiser woke up from his nap, stretched his muscular body, and came closer to rest his large head on your thighs. The dog’s cropped ears were flattened, and his large hazel eyes were looking at you with sincere worry.

“That’s okay big boy, that’s okay.” You gently stroke his head, but despite loving your caresses the Cane Corso let out a sad whining sound, “I know…” You simply replied, knowing that Kaiser missed Arthur too, on top of hating the sight of you being that mournful. Suddenly, the mutt’s ears raised again, and he turned his head towards the door, sensing someone was coming. Trusting his shape senses, your eyes looked up at the entrance too. When your instincts weren’t working, you knew you could always count on Kaiser and tonight was no exception: only seconds later the door opened, revealing Arthur’s lanky silhouette. You got up from the sofa, putting your glass of red wine on the coffee table, and watched him carefully.

“Cheri?”

“Hm.” The only reply you got was a grunt, followed by his staggering frame walking past you without stopping for a hug nor a kiss. In fact, you wondered if he even saw you. The strong scents of alcohol and tobacco floated in the air at his passage, leaving no doubt on his intoxicated state. You sighed, watching him walking towards the furniture and pouring himself another whiskey. Not the first of the evening for sure.

“Arthur, maybe you shouldn’t do that.” You said quietly, with care and sincere worry. Losing John had broken him, obviously, so you knew you had to be delicate with him. A lecture was definitely not what he needed at this aching moment, which was why you used suggestions rather than orders. Nevertheless, your husband remained deaf to your gentle advice and gulped down the alcohol in one mouthful, right before pouring himself another glass. You shook your head and walked to him, for you could not let Arthur drink his pain until he passed out – because that was what he was trying to do. Somehow, he only acknowledged your existence when he felt your hand gently touching his arm, right above the thin texture of his shirt, “I’m going to run you a bath and we’ll go to bed, alright?” You finally said, knowing that no words would ease the tormenting grief he was experiencing. Why? Because you did too. John Shelby was your best friend. No. He was more than that, he was like another part of you. But as you weren’t blood-related, you’d rather leave your own pain on the back burner and take care of your husband, who hadn’t lost a friend but a baby brother. A loss whose ache you knew far too well. Taking this into account, you didn’t want to ask him if he was okay nor if he wanted to talk because you knew that no he wasn’t and no he didn’t want to.

“Yeah.” Arthur drank the second glass of whiskey and put it on the furniture a bit bluntly, his reflexes numbed by alcohol, “Yeah…” He sniffed, tears flooding his vision for the umpteenth time today – he had lost count. He didn’t think he had some left but here he was, crying again, unlike Tommy who could hold it well. “Heaven…” He moaned in pain, his suffering coming from the deepest part of his soul. You opened your lips to reassure him but you stopped: there was something unusual in his voice, “I need ye to save me …” He begged, turning around to face you even if his gaze remained fixed on the floor.

“I’m here.” One of your hands reached his waist with an indescribable tenderness, “Look at me Arthur.” The other slipped under his chin and gently forced him to look at you — which he ultimately did. Yet, the moment your eyes dived into his iris your heart stopped beating for a micro-while. His pupils were so dilated that the blue of his eyes was barely visible, reduced to small rings around two soul-sucking black holes. From then, you were quick to react: you slipped your hand in the pocket of his trouser and, when you did, your fingertips were met with the cold surface of a little vial. “No…” You whispered, pulling the object from his pocket and observing it with genuine disgust and disappointment. In truth, you could recognize it from miles away for those blue and small vials usually contained cocaine, “What the fuck, Arthur!” you exclaimed, stepping back from him and showing him the small bottle you were holding between your index finger and your thumb.

“What?” He straight off hissed, eyes half closed and his body slightly reeling left to right due to his state of inebriation.

“Did you take it?!” The answer was obvious, but you still wanted to hear it from him. You wanted him to admit it and assume the consequences of his relapse.

“Yes I did eh!” He finally exclaimed after one long second of staring at your eyes, searching for any kind of excuses he could find. But the disappointment in your frozen iris kept him from lying – He definitely could not do this to you, even drunk and high. You closed your eyelids a brief moment, for his words felt like a stab in the chest despite you already knew the undeniable truth.

“No Arthur that’s not going to be possible. You made a promise,” You tried to remain calm but red wine, your fight with Tommy, and the mess in your emotions had destroyed your diplomacy, “You’ve promised me! That’s… Thats not going to help you cope with John’s death!” One of your bare feet was nervously tapping the wooden floor.

“AND HOW AM I GOING TO COPE WITH IT EH? FOOKIN’ HOW?” He burst in anger, your words fueling the raging fire that was burning inside of him. Carried away by his emotional turmoil and the drug, Arthur swept the furniture with one violent movement of his arms, knocking the bottle and the glass over. The cacophony of broken glass made you jump a little as they crashed on the floor, exploding in dozens of shards.

You looked at him, shocked to the core, for he had never really yelled at you before. Each time his voice would rise in your presence it was always because of external factors, never because of you. In truth, Arthur had never got mad at you. The more he could do in your presence was being grumpy. However, tonight you were the source of his sudden anger, and such a revelation hurt like hell. For a fraction of a second, your angry expression flickered into an aching one. Still, you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and answered him with a cool, almost placid tone.

“Don’t yell at me. Understand?” You warned him, jaw clenched and every muscle of your tiny body tense, “I don’t want you to take drug except on very, very rare occasions and I must be here– It was part of the deal.” You punctuated you sentence by throwing the vial into the fire, which burnt brighter for a short while. Arthur scoffed, his lips stretching in a sarcastic and irked grin.

“Isn’t it a fookin’ rare occasion? My brother’s dead. That’s a once-in-a-lifetime event that needs to be celebrated properly eh.” His bitter smirk disappeared as he winced with pain, bringing his trembling hands in his hair to pull it. “I need to numb the pain. To numb everything. Oh God, John is dead. Dead. He’s fookin’ dead!” Each time he repeated the last word, Arthur hit his head with his fists. The dancing flames reflected in his teary eyes, and lit his face with an orange hue. It was getting hard to tell if such an effect came from the fire in the hearth, or if he was burning from inside.

“Stop it Arthur!” You grabbed his wrists with your little hands, trying your best to keep him from hurting himself, “I know alright? I know you’re suffering and I’m deeply sorry for it. I swear I’d love to take your pain away, but I can’t. I can’t,” You forced him to look at you by squeezing his wrists, “Thing is, I don’t want to watch you destroying yourself with cocaine or God knows what other kind of drugs! That’s out of fucking question!” Despite your attempt to remain calm, your emotions got the best of you. The betrayal of him breaking his promise was more painful than a bullet shot through your chest. Maybe more painful than losing John itself. Tears began to stream down your face as you let go of Arthur and observed his enraged and dilated pupils.

“What the hell do ye know, eh.” Arthur stumbled, closing the distance between you a second time and leaning over until his face and yours were only a few inches away. His whiskey breath fanned over your skin. “What the hell do ye knew about pain, little angel? You have no idea what I’m going through. If ye did you’d be the first to snort snow ey.”

“Listen,” You sniffed, swallowing back a sob. Okay, maybe yelling at him wasn’t the best way to react so, in a desperate attempt of not aggravating the situation, you forced yourself to regain your calm “I’ve lost my family, I know what it—”

“IT’S NOT ABOUT YOUR FAMILY!” He cut you, yelling so loud your ears buzzed, “THEY’VE BEEN SIX FEET UNDER FOR A FOOKIN’ WHILE! WE’RE TALKING ABOUT JOHN! MY LITTLE BROTHER!” Arthur’s eyes darkened and then, he bared his teeth like a wounded wolf trying his best to scare someone away, “They’ve riddled him with bullets, those mops. Those bastards! We’re in a fookin’ war and here you are scolding me like a kid because I took drugs! That’s fookin’ ridicu—”

The sound of flesh snapping echoed in the living room when your hand slapped him, followed by a heavy silence only the fire’s cracks broke. Arthur backed up at the blow, eyes wide open. Slowly, his shaking fingers brushed his reddened cheek, right where his skin was tingling. At this well-deserved reality check, the tall gangster blinked several times and finally noticed the heart-wrenching pain in your glistening eyes. You, who had tried to hold back your tears and be strong for Arthur, could not keep your sadness for yourself anymore. They flowed from your holy eyes, salty waterfall of sorrows. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Not a single sound. It was not really the fact you had hit him that petrified his whole soul, but rather the realization that he had hurt you, his beloved angel. The woman of his life.

Your face contorted with a caustic combination of pain, sorrow and anger. In truth, you didn’t want to hit him. You really didn’t. But he had been barking at you like a rabid dog, almost spitting at your face as he screamed. And then, he had the stupid idea of talking about your family while knowing what had happened to them. All brutally murdered in a matter of hours. Guided with rage, your blood had boiled, and your hand slapped him even before you truly realized it. “Don’t talk about my family like this anymore.” You hissed through gritted teeth, your cold voice seeping through him and turning his blood into liquid nitrogen.

“Heaven…” Arthur said, feeling himself breaking down at your hateful gaze. He quickly moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, thinking carefully about the next words that were about to come from his mouth but you didn’t let him the time to speak. You had heard enough.

“Shut up. Seriously Arthur, just… Shut up.” Your eyes, who always looked at him with indescribable love and tenderness, were now filled with Hell’s fury and it tore his soul. All of sudden, he felt very small despite towering you with his height.

“You think I’m not suffering from John’s death? You have no idea how much he meant to me. Of course, he wasn’t my brother! Of course, his blood doesn’t run through my veins. But still, he mattered like no one else did, except you.” Each sentence had a bitter taste. Then, you turned away from him and walked to the smashed bottle to take one huge shard between your fragile fingers, “You wanna know how it makes me feel when you’re high? We’ll that’s easy.” Now you were determined to make him understand, no matter what it took. First thing, you showed him the pale flesh of your forearm, “I’m not Linda, right? I didn’t put a leash around your neck because I trusted you. Now, I want you to look at me carefully. When you take drug, it’s as if I was doing this to myself.” Turning your words into deeds, you suddenly slashed your skin with the glass fragment in one quick motion. The sharp surface cut your skin just like butter, and crimson blood quickly filled the gash, overflowing from it and dripping down your arm to your elbow under Arthur’s astounded eyes.

“No, angel!” Suddenly sobering up at the sight of blood on your porcelain skin, he almost pounced on you and took the shard from your hand to threw it away, “The fook ye did eh?! Bloody hell…” Arthur tried to take your arm to examine the depth of your wound but you pushed him away with a stern “Don’t touch me”.

Don’t touch me. Surely, you didn’t mean it right?

You didn’t – Arthur’s heart ached.

“Now just imagine that all you can do is watch me cutting myself until, one day, I bleed to death. How fucking bad it would make you feel? How powerless?!”

“Gosh Heaven, you’re hurt. Oh God!” Arthur started to panic, tears filling his eyes and shoulder jolting with dawning sobs. His whole being ached at the sight of you wounded. It was stronger than him: he couldn’t bear the idea of your being hurt, even less when it was because of him — whether he was the direct cause or not. “I’m sorry love. Fuck, I’m so sorry…” He begged, trying to approach you again but each step he made caused you to step back. Arthur’s hand slowly squeezed his own arm, for he could almost feel the pain of your cut on his own unwounded flesh. Everything began to spin around him as he realized how stupid he had been, “Please, love…”

“Keep your apologies for yourself, Arthur. Let’s make things clear: I’d rather burn at the stake than watch you slowly killing yourself with this shit.” You retorted, turning your heels and heading to the door not minding the fact you were not wearing shoes and that your arm was abundantly bleeding. It didn’t matter, you needed so fresh air and, more than anything, you needed to be away from Arthur for a little while. Meeting his eyes had become far too painful for you to bear anymore. You had almost reached the door when the gangster’s long and calloused fingers grabbed your hands to hold you back.

“No! Don’t leave me! Please, please I fookin’ beg ye but don’t… Just don’t leave me, Heaven.” He kept repeating over and over again, the gravel in his voice rising from one octave under the weight of despair and utter fear. The way his menacing traits had turned into the facial expression of a panicking child was truly heart wrenching – Arthur could not live without you, and it wasn’t a euphemism. Yet, you snatched your hand from his and, as you did, his very soul crumbled. As painful as it was to see him like this, you just couldn’t let this pass – he had to understand how serious you were about the whole drug issue, and how deep he had maimed your heart. You took one last look at him, shaking your head in disapproval, and stormed out of the house, letting the darkness of Watery Lane swallowing you whole.

At first, he had wanted to pin you against the wall and force you to stay. His desperate mind, seeking for any way to keep you by his side, had even thought about threatening to kill himself with his gun right in front of you if you left, but he had been frozen by the disappointed look on your face. Petrified by your gaze, as a poor unfortunate traveler meeting Medusa’s deadly eyes. Following your departure, Arthur had screamed until his throat hurt and his voice broke. The drowning misery he was experiencing, far worst than suffocating in French tunnels, had led him to destroy everything he could in the living room. Maddened by the thought of losing you, the flip in his brain switched and nothing made sense anymore. You had left him alone here, and he felt his mental health getting worse and worse as minutes passed, until he was completely out of his mind. He had done all he could to alleviate his guilt and sadness: from throwing in the fire all the cocaine he kept to hiting a furniture until his knuckles’ skin cracked open. God, he even threw his lanky frame at the wall several times in a frenzied attempt to knock himself up and get a break from the pain of your absence, but nothing worked. He was now sitting on the rug, rocking himself back and forth in front of the dying fire. If you didn’t want him anymore, all was left for him was to blow his damn brains out with his gun for if you’d rather burn than witness his fall, he'd rather die than existing one sole second without your heavenly presence by his side. He could afford to lose Linda, John, hell even Tommy, but he couldn’t do it without you.

Arthur looked at his wedding ring, jaw clenched and heart in bits.

He had fucked up. And he had fucked up really bad.

As he always did.

✞ Readers are left to interpret/choose what the characters feel for the reader. By no means it wants to make Reader/Heaven a Mary Sue everyone loves. Nevertheless, fanfiction should remain fun for readers so that's why I leave most of the things open to interpretation.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Tag list: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @brummiereader @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @shelbydelrey @peakyswritings @helen06dreamer

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