#I had one s/o that would scream at me because I relapsed and another that was so gentle and loving when I did

[crimson-calligraphyx]

TW: self harm

As someone who used to and sometimes still does self harm, I really would like to see a little drabble of Noah or Nicholas being extra loving to their s/o when they slipped up.

#personal #trigger warning #tw: self harm #cw: self harm #I had one s/o that would scream at me because I relapsed and another that was so gentle and loving when I did #he even kissed my healed scars when we first met #idk I know people probably don’t have the same views as me but it would almost make me feel… accepted? #fanfic #fan fiction

[unknown-writing]

The boys reacting to their s/o pulling themselves out of a Bad Depressive Relapse:

Warning(s): Mentions of depression, Intrusive thoughts, self-destructive behavior’s

A/N: I’m very proud of myself for pulling myself out of my bad depressive relapse episode this morning so, it’s time to write some comfort!

This man is pretty dense when it comes to dealing with other people’s internal suffering tbh.

Like, unless your outwardly showing signs of pain, he won’t fully get it.

He noticed that you were...Not your usual self for a while. A long while at that, it started to worry him that you weren’t laughing with him anymore for that period of your slump.

But, one morning, an early morning that is, you had snuck out of your room that you shared with the girls to find Luffy for some much needed Cuddling.

Ever so quietly moving towards his bed, you slowly climbed in. Him feeling movement on top of him startled him awake but, he kept quiet.

Seeing that you were the one crawling in his bed, literally made him have the biggest grin on his dorky face you’ve ever seen.

“Welcome back y/n-san” He whispered as he pulled you in for a tighter cuddle session, you couldn’t help but chuckle but, you kept quiet to avoid waking the other boys.

Soon enough, it was morning, and the rest of the crew saw that you two were finally cuddling again after your depressive slump.

Nami so took a picture with the Camera-snail for blackmail evidence to tease you with.

Seeing you severely depressed drove him Mad.

Not because he was mad /at you/ But because he was mad at /himself/ for not noticing it sooner than he should have.

Robin tried telling him about your depressive slump but, Zoro was completely clueless on what she was getting at.

“My y/n? Depressed? Why? She looks perfectly fine to me.”

That line was a big mistake on his part since you accidentally heard that, which sort of drove you over the edge again

Ngl, it took him quite a while for him to start making it up to you again after that night. His guilty conscious refused to let him rest peacefully until things where settled between you two again

Weeks went by, and even though most of the Straw Hats assumed you where still depressed, Zoro sensed otherwise.

It seemed like to him that you were finally starting to shed your light again, even if it was a slow start at first.

One day though, while the two of you were on grocery duties to help Sanji since he took the role of guard duty this round. You grabbed his arm and hugged it tightly.

it startled him at first because he thought he was being kidnapped or something, but once he saw that you had just grabbed onto it and acted so casually about it

This mans started to blush a pink hue. A brief silenced filled the air between you two before he spoke up,

“...Y/n-san....” He paused before turning towards you, “Is everything ok now? And I don’t mean that fake bullshit ‘Ok’ either...” he asked while looking concerned

You looked up to him, with the biggest smile he’d ever seen. Even if it was a small one, the fact that you smiled again after so long of not smiling, it drove him Wild.

“Yeah...........Yeah.......Everything’s gonna be ok now.” You started off before holding his hand firmly, “I have my Nakama...And I have you by my side. So, I’m no longer alone anymore.” You smiled again while looking up to Zoro, who still had the blush but, a genuine smile back

“That’s my girl.” Zoro just says while bending down to give you a quick peck on the forehead, which made you blush a deep crimson red seeing as you two were in public still.

Okay but, you /KNOW/ this idiot is gonna think it’s his fault your depressed.

He’ll constantly blame himself for your sadness, as it’s not something that could be easily cured with affection or food.

He’s even more sad when he can’t dote on you so much because it makes you feel even worse.

You have to keep reminding him that this was just how your brain worked sometimes.

It wasn’t until Nami and Chopper explaining it to him properly, is when he started to finally understand that some people just feel down and needed some space for a bit.

Even when he was giving you your personal space, he still made you your favorite foods, making sure that you had stuff to drink and eat even if you were cooped up in your bedroom for a long time.

He won’t admit it directly but, he genuinely misses you. He misses your smell, your touch, your face, your body, your everything.

He especially misses the way you can easily fluster him and make him feel like a King, but he’ll deny those feelings if you asked him though.

A couple of month’s had gone by of this depressive state of yours. it was starting to take a mental tole on himself, knowing that you were stuck in those same four walls, missing everything that was happening, being unable to help you at all during this.

Just as he was about to head towards the sleeping cabin area to drop off your next meal, he’d noticed that your door was slightly open. He blinked, confused and worried that somebody had tried sneaking inside of it somehow.

But soon enough, you had popped out, yawning as you’d just woken up that morning. Nothing had harmed you physically from the looks of it, he looked up and down for a while before placing the food tray on a nightstand to avoid spilling the food.

You turn after hearing the tray clink against the wooden surface, “Oh? Morning Sanji-sa--Ouf!” You where cut off from a tackle hug.

Sanji had wrapped his arms around you tightly, holding you so close to him you were practically choking on his hair. “S-Sanji?? Is everything alright?” You asked, patting his back gently

Your eyes widened as the next thing he did was give you a big passionate kiss on your lips. You felt salty fluids on his face. “Oh.” You thought as you realized what was happening

“I missed you so fucking much y/n-chan.” Sanji says after the kiss. Hearing him say that so bluntly made /you/ turn red-faced and start to stutter.

“....Yeah....I missed you too Sanji-san.” You admitted while smiling again after so long of not showing your smile to anybody. Poor Sanji nearly fainted.

Law knew something was off about you even before you realized it yourself.

You were grumpy, snippy, more “tired” than normal. You had constant mood swings that showed up out of the blue. Everything was just...Off.

It didn’t take much for him to realize that you were dealing with Depression. Although he knew very little of your past, he knew that something was eating at you.

Once your downward spiral of your mental suffering began, you stayed in your bedroom for the majority of the time, refusing to go out even if it was for a general meeting for a mission, or even for food.

Law wasn’t the best at communicating his own feelings towards somebody, so helping his crush with her depression was a little bit harder to do than he thought.

He didn’t realize that you would get so bad that you just woke up absolutely /screaming/ at the top of your lungs during a nightmare. The only reason he knew what was happening was because Bepo went to drop off some food for you, and then ran once he heard the screaming.

After a while of some studying on Depression, Law tried everything that he could to at least /try/ to get you to speak with him...But, after a few weeks of this, he started to get tired of chasing you.

“Y/n-ya...At least let me check for injuries.” He said as he sat on the floor, leaning against your bedroom door with a frown....No response.

He could hear silent sobbing and hiccups behind him, which hurt because he didn’t know how to help you! it drove him Mad!

He was about to give up, sighing in irritation. As he started to walk away, he heard the bedroom door start to click open. You peaked your head out tiredly, face stained with dried and fresh tears, your face all red from not just crying but from stress as well.

Seeing you so Broken hurt him. He’s been there before, he’d never wish to see his friends be broken like this...Let alone his crush.

You opened the door wider so that way he could come in, “...sorry....For the mess...” You weakly spoke, allowing him to enter your room.

Once the two of you were in your room, you had shut the door, then locked it behind you...Eventually turning to face Law, the next moved startled him

You were so tired from the depression night terrors, the screaming, the crying and well...Everything else...That you just fainted into his arms! “Y-Y/n-ya??” He questioned as he stood still. No response...Well, nothing with words anyways. A soft snore leaked passed your slightly open mouth

You had fallen asleep, quite literally in his arms. And he didn’t know how to handle it. You were his crush after all! What was he supposed to do!? Move you away!? Fuck.

He calmed down and carried you bridal style in his arms, thanking God that you were a heavy sleeper, and shuffled his way onto your messy bed, kicking his shoes off at least before getting comfortable.

Another week had passed since that night, and throughout that week, law would give orders to Bepo and Penguin to take control of the ship while he stayed put. he would only move to take a piss/shit or a quick shower before rushing to your side again. He’d forgo the shower if waking you would cause you to feel alone and start crying again.

Once that week had passed though, you had woken up to feel a body underneath you. Blinking, you were confused as to what was happening. You then blushed a deep crimson red seeing Law underneath you, holding you so tightly to him that you could hardly breathe properly because of it.

Law had woken up after feeling your movements to try and get out of bed and take a shower, since you hadn’t taken a proper one in the past three weeks due to your depressive state hitting you like a two ton truck.

You then felt an arm snake around your lower waste, pinning you down of sorts, which made you jump a bit and turn to see who’s it was. Only to see Law wide awake and looking upwards at you

A brief silence filled the room before Law had spoke. “Y/n-ya......You’re Ok.” he says quietly, trying not to startle you...Soon, the memories of what you went through during your depressive state had hit you. You saw everything that happened. And then you saw that Law had tried his hardest to get you to feel ok.

You started to cry again, which made him frown in worry, only to . be taken aback by the sudden tackle hug you were doing, “Law!” You kept muttering in between your hiccupped sobs as you held him.

All Law did was rub your head gently and held you close to him again. He didn’t know how to respond. “....You saved me.....” You commented, now hovering over him with a shaky smile.

Those words. Those three single words made his heart melt with pure happiness. A feeling he hasn’t had in a LONG while. Despite the fact that he hated being called a Hero, if he could save /you/ from death? Then he’ll take being called a Hero by you any day.

You just kept hiccupping as you cried of happiness, but that was easily silenced with Law’s next action. You felt Law’s rougher lips against your own, which easily made you stop crying. He broke the kiss after a while and smiled back, “...I’m glad that your Ok y/n-ya.” he says before pulling you down for another kiss

#luffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #law x reader #holy fuck this got long #sorry that law's was long but listen #I love Law ok #tw// depression

[slashiest-slasher]

since you've watched black christmas could you do a poly billy lenz and brahms ficlet???

I’m just going to go under the assumption that the reader hopped across the pond to be Brahms nanny and an obsessed Billy followed for whatever reason

also i just found this new emoticon and it’s 100% Brahms when you don’t give him enough attention or try to leave: (´༎ຶ۝༎ຶ). i’m still trying to characterize Billy so pls forgive for any discrepancies.

Read more bc i ramble for waaay to long lmao. Warnings for classic Billy dirty talk

Billy/Brahms/s/o polyship

All you wanted was to leave behind that entire fucking mess that happened over at your college. All the murders at the sorority you were 100% not supposed to be crashing at, the creepy crank calls that left shivers up your spine, and the distinct feeling there was someone up in your attic.

You thought, hell, I just graduated! Why not take up a job in an entirely different country? If it’ll get you away from the nightmares of all the dead bodies and heavy breathing voices and squeals from the phone.

The instructions you were left were more than cryptic, and the following days when you couldn’t contact the Heelshire’s at their hotel room was even more puzzling. the whole mystery surrounding the doll left your head spinning, but it was the creaking from the walls that sent shivers up your spine.

When a grown, and very hairy man wearing a mask crawled out when you tried leaving just for a walk through town. He had grabbed you shyly by your sleeve and asked you in a small and babyish voice to stay.

For a moment, you were going to run. It was the same, someone hiding within the unseen part of the house, watching you, but the demure way he was presenting himself was nothing like you imagined the Moaner to act like. Then that baby voice clicked, and you knew that this must be Brahms, somehow alive after all those years.

Things were different and the same since then. He was more obvious with crawling through the walls, and you saw more of this man who easily and regularly overpowered you. But he had the temperment of a child and that was easy to deal with, as long as you spoke to him like one.

Yeah, sometimes when you gave him his goodnight kiss he would try pushing things further, and you would have to scold him and tell him that was a very rude thing to do. But in all honestly, it was an easy life to be lulled into, and aside from the occasional nightmare or flashback, that whole mess at the sorority was nearly completely forgotten.

You were pushed into a full relapse when the hallway phone rang while you were preparing. You managed to get Brahms to stir the pot of soup, despite him being barely able to stand from the cold he caught, with him whining about it the entire time.

“Heelshire residence,” yous chirped, leaning against the wall. But all you got in response was dead air. “Hello?” You repeated several times, each time more and more dread rising in your gut.

Eventually, there was a shrill giggle on the other end. “Agnes, it’s me Billy!” he says in a moment of composure. “Don’t tell them Agnes, don’t tell them where you are. It’s just us.” He lets out a heavy, shaking sigh before snorting and snuffling. “I- I’ll fuh- fuck your piggy ass, lick you aaallll up. G-g-give you my f-fat juicy cock!”

Your legs give out underneath you, but you clutch the receiver to your ear. “This isn’t fucking funny! How’d you get this number?” He couldn’t be here, didn’t Jess kill him? And how does some sick fuck like him even get a plane ticket, let alone make it through an airport?

Brahms peers into the hallway, but you shoot him a look and wave him away.

“You wa-want me stick m-my tongue up your pretty pinky ass? Filthy, filthy Billy, I’ll fuck y-y-y-you all good. Know you wants it, seen y-you piggy, seen you all pink and bothered when Billy calls,” he lets out another choking laugh. “I’m going to get you,” he says, before the line goes dead.

The receiver smacks into the wall when you finally let it out of your grasp. You expected there to be tears, for there to be something but heat and dread and anxious excitement roiling deep within, but there isn’t and it makes you sick.

You can hear the gas stove click off, and Brahms walks into the hallway. His eyes bug momentarily when they catch yours and see how blank they are. He scoops you up into his arms and sets you down on a nearby chair. His hands grab your face. “Who was that? Is everything okay?”

You plop your face into his shoulder, and even though you have been increasing the amount of hug you give him the past few weeks, he still flinches. “Just some creep crank calling. Nothing to worry about Brahmsy.”

You have to push yourself up, and lead him back to the kitchen where you finish up dinner, and manage to get him to eat an entire bowl before the heat made him too drowsy to sit upright.

It was quite the task to get up the stairs and into the master bedroom to tuck him in. You go through the entire routine even though there was still light in the sky. He promises to stay in bed the entire night if you kiss him under his mask, and your mind is too far away to clearly deny him.

He covers your eyes with a large, overheated hand when he takes off his mask, and leads you down to press his lips to yours. He, of course, presses more urgently and runs his tongue along your lips, and tries to pull you into bed with him, like he does every night.

“Brahmsy, not tonight sweetie,” is all you can muster up.

“But some night?” How hopeful he sounds makes a weak smile come to your face.

“Lets get you over this cold first, then we’ll see. But if you’re a bad boy and get out of bed in the night, then it’ll be longer.”

Brahms doesn��t even care about you catching a glimpse of his face when he rushes to snuggle underneath the covers you pulled up tight around him, partially hiding his face.

You can see the smile in his eyes when you lean down to place a kiss to his forehead and ruffle his hair. “Call me if you need anything, alright?”

He nods and clutches the blankets tighter, pulling them up higher when you leave the room.

You don’t go back to your own bedroom, and instead head to the main foyer and sit down with a book in your lap, keeping a fixed stare at the main entrance, and Brahms’ hidden ones out of the corner of your eyes. If Billy was going to try and pull something, then let him. He was going to be in for a world of hurt if he disturbed Brahms, or something else entirely if he beelined straight for your.

-

The only reason you never picked up on Brahms crawling through the walls as keenly was, according to him, he knew how avoid making noise. Everything else echoed through the house like a gunshot. Every time Brahms tossed himself to his other side in his sleep, or when the heater clicked on, or the rats (friends, assured Brahms) in the walls scurried around.

So you heard as soon as the unlocked backdoor creaked open and softly shut, and someone padded through the house. You ensured that every window and door, sans that one was shut and locked tightly, and all the lights in that part of the house were turned off.

You didn’t know how he got into the sorority the first time, but you knew the girls there chronically forgot to lock the doors and windows.

Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, so you could easily see a thin form go by the doorway of the foyer. “Billy,” you called out, loud enough for him to hear, but not enough for Brahms to pick up on.

Unlike his phone calls, he was deathly silent as he backtracked and entered the room. You could see an outline, a lithe man in a turtleneck and shoulder length hair. But the only thing you could see clearly was an eye illuminated by the moon coming a crack in the curtain.

He stood there in the middle of the room, staring you down. In a jerky movement, he lunges for you.

If you hadn’t been dealing with the living Brahms for the better part of a month, you likely would have tried to run, maybe scream, but you sat perfectly still, and gripped his wrist tight when he wrapped a hand around your throat.

He didn’t squeeze, maybe because of how surely and firmly you grabbed him, but let it rest there. Loose, but there was no way you were going to pry his hand off.

“What is it that you want from me Billy?” you asked, grabbing his other wrist, much tighter than the other one. “Do you want to kill me?” Your voice is soft.

He tries stuttering something out, but he can’t get the words to form, and his body shakes too much to keep his gaze on your face.

You can see his eye drift down to look at the rest of your body. “Do you want to fuck me Billy? You followed me all the way here for that?”

“Sick fuck!” he finally manages to get out, his voice not sounding like any you remember hearing over the phone. “Sick fuck! Sick fuck! Need help, Billy needs help. Need to find Billy, need to get Billy the help he needs. Want to give Billy a hug, a good hug, a tight hug. Billy needs a hug.”

It clicks when he rambles. You. That was you. You remember speaking with Claude after a call, because none of the sorority sisters wanted to hear about how the Moaner needed some serious psychiatric care. You held Claude in your your and sat right underneath the attic while you told that silly old cat in a hushed whisper what you really thought about Billy.

You’re just glad he has the hindsight to not bring up what you said right before, about how Billy’s ramblings turned you on, and how you’d probably let him go down on you if the mad lad just asked.

Billy suddenly collapsed into your lap, letting go of your neck. His legs bracketed yours on either side, clutched his hands tightly into the front of your shirt, and hid his face in your neck. Between the snuffles and snorts, you could make out him saying, “Billy wants help, if you give it to Billy. Give soft fuzzies and hugs and kissies.”

You wrap your arms around him, tight and sturdy to keep him pressed to your chest. He quiets down to barely audible muttering, but presses his face closer to your neck, taking in deep breaths of your scent. “I’ll help Billy, as long as Billy wants it.” Your assure him, rubbing his back.

He nods, and for a brief moment, everything is still and calm until the lights of the foyer are flipped on. You’re blinded for a moment until you can make sense of Brahms pulling Billy off of your and onto the floor.

You can see the rage and heat pulsing behind his eyes, a snarl on his unmasked face as he advances on Billy’s stunned and trembling form with a knife he must have snatched from the kitchen.

You don’t really think before launching yourself off the sofa. “Brahms, don’t you dare!” you shout at him, gripping the blade before he can swing it down.

Brahms drops it the instant he sees your blood spilling into the floor, but redoubles when Billy hides behinds your legs and grabs onto them. “You can’t have someone else! I’m the only one you’re allowed to love.” He grabs you by your wounded hand, squeezing tight, but you refuse to falter. He voice drops to his deep, adult voice. “You aren’t leaving me.”

There’s only one way you know how to deal with Brahms when he’s like this, so you square your shoulder and look him in the eyes, squeezing his hand back even tighter, no matter how much it hurt. “Brahmsy you are being an extremely naughty boy. You go back to your room right now and we will talk about this in the morning.”

Something vicious flashes in his eyes, flickering between adult and child. “No!” he stomps his foot. “I’m not letting him take you away from me.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Billy reaching for the fallen knife, so you stand on the blade. “You’re already not getting goodnight kisses for a week because of this, if you want that to be a month, you better get your ass up the bed!”

His eyes widen and he falters. “Y- you’re not leaving?” he asks, letting your injured hand drop.

“Shhh Agnes, don’t tell them we did. Naughty, filthy Billy, they get mad,” Billy whispers, looking up at Brahms. “Billy, Billy where’s the baby? What did you do to the baby?” his voice turns shrill, completely unlike himself.

“Shut up,” Brahms snaps, glaring at him. “He’s not staying here.”

“Yes, he is, because I’m in charge and I say so,” you snip right back, kneeling down to wrap your arms around Billy’s shoulders. “Billy, this is Brahms. We don’t hurt Brahms okay?”

In a voice eerily similar to yours, Billy speaks up again. “Brahms, naughty naughty Brahmsy. Do you know Agnes, Brahmsy?”

#billy lenz #brahms heelshire #billy lenz x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms x reader #black christmas #billy lenz hc #brahms hc #Anonymous #bb polyship

[novamortem]

[ future-self event thread with mods of @arcanacouncilrp  - tw: death ]

At first glance, the room is the same as it looked when he left. Clean lines, no surface too cluttered, neatly made bed. For someone as observant as Aeron, though, that isn’t enough to put him at ease. There’s a presence in the room with him when he enters. If he tries, he can catch the faintest scent of ozone lingering in the air. Perched on a curtain rod half obscured in shadow is a crow with haunted eyes. It watches Aeron carefully, distrustfully, like it knows him but does not anticipate what he will do. After several heartbeats, it opens its beak and speaks in a perfect recreation of Aeron’s voice:

“I’m here to warn you.”

he’s never been great at birds. the crow though, is the easiest.  perhaps it’s something to do with being an omen of ‘death’ or… some other mystic type shit.  this one though, is not a random bird.  it’s ‘his’ bird.  ‘his’ form.  something he recognises quite intimately.  but this version seems… polluted.  the sleek blue black of those wings looks - greasy - dirty oil slick staining a puddle on a filthy street.  like it… he… has spent his time pecking eyeballs out of corpses.

assessment: 1)  it’s him.  or an apparition of him.  or something like that… impostor ( irony coming from someone who’s entire basis of magic was changing his appearance ). 2)  there’s a flicker of doubt.  he’s pretty sure this is reality.  there’s no gunfire echoing in his ears, no blood that he can see.  he’s not relapsing or having a flashback. 3)  he doesn’t trust it.  he doesn’t like it.  he’s pretty close to throwing the lamp from his nightstand at it.

❝ uhuh. ❞

shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the bed, as though the - other him - is nothing more than a blip.  curbing the instinct to act, to react… for now ( though the lamp is still a viable option ).

❝ very ominous. ❞

there’s a hike of brow, tongue pulling over his teeth with a click.  if it is – him – then he would know that he’s not a fan of pissing about.  less about pulling punches, more about getting straight to the damn point.

❝ so…? ❞

The crow watches with one beady eye as Aeron absorbs the information. The warning, as it were. If a crow can look indecisive, this one does, but eventually he spreads his wings and descends from the window, dropping neatly to the floor on human legs. It’s a quick transformation, one that speaks of mastery over his talent, though he hasn’t used that apparent skill to hide time’s ravages to his appearance. His eyes are sunken, his face gaunt. Under his ragged black great coat he wears only dark colors, though none of them are dark enough to fully conceal telltale stains splashed across them. He might as well be wearing his old uniform. His hands shake every so slightly. If not for the haunted expression in his eyes, he would be a perfect mirror reflection of Aeron. Time had clearly not been kind to this version. 

“War is coming,” he says, holding Aeron’s eyes with a look that says your suspicions are true. 

“Like none you’ve seen before. I’m here to warn you, because…” 

He clenches his teeth, a muscle in his jaw jumping. 

“I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t. I only made things worse. You deserve to know what’s coming.”

oh. so that’s why he was the one to get the death card. he might not be the traditional apparition of a reaper, but what aeron gazes upon now couldn’t be anything but… d e a t h.  when the ‘other’ aeron retakes his human form, it’s a cracked reflection through that oil slick shimmer.  distorted and fractured.  stained and broken.  he imagines that if he looks closer, he might even see hairline cracks in his counterparts skin, a porcelain vase filled with nothing more than a haunted, bloody void.

but he got what he wanted.  – straight and to the point. even if it’s not what he actually ‘wanted’.  the soldier who sought nothing but peace.  who had seen enough bloodshed to last him more lifetimes than he’s had reincarnations.  the spectre of himself delivers the one message he doesn’t want to hear – one that sends a chill down his spine, cutting at each and every nerve along the way.

❝ war is always coming. ❞

but the words sound weak, even to him.   he lacks the one thing he so often relies upon in front of the others – conviction.  but if this is truly him ( and his doubt in that fades with the haunt in the others eyes ), then there’s no need for the soldiers charade.  it’s one thing to think of a happenstance.  it’s another entirely to look upon the aftermath of something that hasn’t yet come to be.

❝ i don’t deserve anything.  i think we both know that. ❞

but he’s not about to deny what’s in front of his eyes right now.  while he might not deserve it, he goddamn wants to know.  even if the tremor in the others hand isn’t in his right now - he can’t help but feel that… fear… a knot deep down.  a lifetime of trauma unravelling.  

…keep it together.

❝ okay.  if you made it worse, then tell me how i can make it better.  if you came to warn me… us… then there has to be the possibility to – change something.  otherwise… why would you… i… we…? ❞

The reflection, if that’s what he really is, averts his eyes when Aeron speaks, instead looking off into some memory of his that renders him visibly nauseous. As if Aeron’s as-yet-untarnished situation pains him. Perhaps the pain comes from remnants of hope, or perhaps there are none at all. 

“You’ve already seen lines being drawn,” he says, surety in his voice like he remembers being there in Aeron’s place. 

“Salma, Daniel, Kian - you know the tension in the air. So much more waits in the wings.” 

He clenches and unfurls his fists. 

“Plenty of other Councilors have more fight in them than they let on… And that’s before the rest comes.” 

He looks to Aeron again, his eyes half wild. 

“There’s so much to magic you don’t know. We didn’t, either. It tore us apart by picking at our desires and fears. Everyone wanted more. More magic, more power. I tried… to reason with them.” 

He shakes his head at his own misguided decisions. 

“Interfering only made it worse. You can’t fight this war, Aeron. It’s coming no matter what you do, and it’s safer for you - for everyone you care about, and so many others besides - if you just… Don’t.”

he’d thought, at times.  that he was truly ruined.  by the things in his nightmares.  the flickers of flashbacks in his waking moments.  but he isn’t.  not compared to the spectre of himself that stands before him now.

–You can’t fight this war, Aeron

it’s all he’s ever done.  fight.  so what does he mean… they can’t fight?  or they can’t win?

❝ when were we ever – safe? ❞

there’s no turning this off.  no ‘not being’ what he is.  

❝ and when did we ever just – not? ❞

moments.  plenty of them.  when he could have walked away.  turned his back on people, places, promises.  could have shimmered into a crowd and never returned.  be somewhere else.  become someone else.   but there’s nowhere you can go.   and no one you can be.   to escape yourself.

one hand swipes over his face.  almost surprised that he can’t feel the sharpness of his own bones beneath his skin.

❝ and if we don’t fight.  what then?  it happens anyway?  people don’t stop just because there’s no one standing in their way.  you know this.  i know this.  you’ve seen something - you’ve done things.  you made choices.  and you know that i can’t choose that… i can’t just… walk away.  i won’t. ❞

❝ so either - help me - make better choices.  help me - understand what’s coming… or… i guess i’ll be here at some point, looking at myself.  through your eyes. ❞

“I’m trying to help you.” 

He sighs, all the fight in him long gone. He looks the part of a soldier but the set of his shoulders, the trembling in his fingers, all point to a man made captive. 

“There is no stopping this. Everything is outside your control. The Council aren’t the only ones fighting, and when the others come… They will make you choose.” 

He shudders. His voice drips with guilt. 

“Join the war, even only to stop it, and you will be forced to pick a side. Some of the Councilors are still barely more than kids. Standing opposite kids in war? The only thing that makes me feel less damned is the hope that they suffered less by my hand than they would have otherwise. All in the name of power and magic beyond their wildest dreams, or some shit.” 

He looks at Aeron, broken, beaten, ghostly. 

“There’s nothing you can do, Aeron. Just leave while you can. Your only other option is to submit.”

there… in that moment… he truly doesn’t recognise the man in front of him

❝ it’s never been about ‘control’.  it’s always been about doing the right thing. ❞

a bristle - an anger - something bubbling up inside as the spectre brings up kids at war…

…how old were they when they first were sent into battle?  sixteen.  younger still by almost a decade than most people in the lair.  how old were the fighters they came face to face with then?  the footsoldiers.  the cannon fodder.  no older than him.  maybe younger.  with as much fear and fight in them.  and he had killed them.  lives cut short with the bloody roar of war in his ears, the screams of the wounded and dying.  the subtle silence in the aftermath.  only then realising that you were still breathing - hardly believing it… the guilt, the terror, the eternal stain on a soul - no matter how old… of taking anothers life.

it’s a strike - a hand shoved into his gut, grabbing his insides and twisting cruelly to think that he’s the one who brings – d e a t h.  to them.  the people he might call friend.  somehow, he isn’t surprised.  

❝ you seem to have gotten real good at talking about what i can’t do.  not what i can.  so if you want to avoid this - if you want to change my future, your past.  then tell me what’s coming. don’t tell me to run.  don’t tell me to surrender.  tell me what the fuck it is and – S T O P – ❞

❝ – with the fucking pity party.  because while you might have given up on yourself - no matter what, what we have to do, what it does to us - we have never - EVER - given up on them.  ❞

“What if the only right thing there is to do is go?” he asked, a sharper edge to his voice. 

“I’m not saying it’s admirable, or good. I’m not saying anything I’ve done is good. But when your options are that limited? Doing nothing is better than bowing under pressure.” 

He clenches his fists at his sides. 

“Things not of this world are coming. I can’t tell you much more than that.” 

He looks almost apologetic, like he wants to tell. Like he knows it would make all the difference, but the words won’t come. 

“They know of magic you cannot fathom, and they shared that knowledge with the others - and some took the bait. Fell prey to mistakes our originals made. I didn’t want to give up on them, and truly, I never did. Maybe… Well. I have no proof things would go better for you if you did, so I won’t tell you that.” 

He shakes his head again, his eyes darkening under the shadows of his memories. 

“Run. Surrender. I don’t know what else there is for you to try. Seize the magic before anyone else, I suppose. Try to fight the fight all on your own. But I don’t see that as anything other than suicide.”

❝ – what if?  uhuh, and ‘what if’ it’s not. ❞

he’s irritated.  he’s fed up of people not pulling their goddamn weight and right now, the main culprit seems to be himself.

❝ – then what’s the point?  really?  why are you here?  who exactly do you think you’re helping?  what do you think you’re changing?  because so far you’ve given me a grand total of jack-shit to go on.  other than ‘run away’.  which, if you are me, you know won’t happen anyway so… what.  is.  the.  point.  of.  this?  ❞

his tongue clicks across his teeth, he can’t even feel sorry for this supposed other version of himself.  because he never has before and he doesn’t understand when the hell that might have started.

❝ – timing is impeccable by the way.  you couldn’t have made it a few weeks ago?  because if there are things coming.  as you say.  then now might be just about the perfect opportunity to sow a few seeds.  plant a little doubt.  start a wheel spinning in a certain direction. ❞

less convinced.  if this is really a future version of himself then he doesn’t understand the aversion.  even with the guilt of death on his hands ( something neither of them are unfamiliar with by this point ), then he would know the only way to plan a counterstrike is with some kind of viable intelligence and so far, there’s nothing… concrete.  just vague references to horror and war… again… not unfamiliar.

❝ – if you really want things to be different.  then give me – something. ❞

…or take your own advice.  and run.

He's silent for several beats, the quiet stretching between them, separating them. They are not the same, that is apparent. This version of Aeron couldn't look any lonelier if he tried, though, and that's probably for the best. Wallowing is not helpful for either of them. 

"There's more to magic than just our powers," he says at last. 

"Magic is part of this world. Everyone should be able to access it with the right tools. But... The Council can't handle that kind of free power. Justice, Nadine, Marcella, they need to be checked with it. If you see them dabbling in old ways or dealing with creatures that promise them more, you've come upon a choice." 

He shrugs one shoulder. 

"Stop them. Learn the new magic for yourself. Leave. Whatever you think is best. I couldn't help myself, so... maybe you have a point. I may not be of any use to you." 

With that he heads toward the door, his eyes downcast. He's broken, caved to the monster he thinks he is, or to those who attack from the outside - who's the say which is worse? At the door he stops, his voice low. 

"I never tried to take charge. Never thought myself worthy of leading or organizing them or, whatever it is they wanted. I doubt you want that. I guess the only other option I see is to try to intervene in the magic yourself, before it can worm its way into their minds and poison them... But it's a tough thing, to work alone."

#AH: hello darkness my old friend #AH: event thread #i'm still reeling from this #o.o #tw: death

[gumnut-logic]

Love and Sacrifice (Prologue & Part One)

Sorry, Tumblr peeps, but you’ve probably read most of this already, but I felt bad posting it to FF.net and Ao3 without sharing it with you in order. so here be the Prologue and Part One.

Title: Love and Sacrifice

Prologue: Made for Heavy Lifting

Warm Rain Series

Author: Gumnut

3 Oct – Nov 2018

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: When she is worth everything.

Word count: 2285

Spoilers & warnings: Virgil/Kayo

Timeline: After ‘Sharing the Scenery’ and the events of ‘Road Rash’.

Author’s note: And here is finally the story of the scar Virgil has on his back mentioned in the first fic of this series and so uproarishly demanded by you wonderful people. I hope it meets expectations. Also, pieces of this fic have been posted all over the place in the last couple of months as I have been slowly piecing it all together, so apologies if you have read some of it before or it seems familiar as I’ve re-written sections. Also, the prologue is one of the Warm Rain shorts, so you will have read that, but please bear with me.

Author’s note: Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

 -o-o-o-

Prologue: Made for Heavy Lifting

Author’s note: This was a single fic once, asked for by @diamondinshadow in response to some lovely artwork by @photowizard17 - My muse being what it is, wandered off a little weirdly, and at 3am, no less, but I hope you all enjoy it anyway :D Thank you all for your kind and wonderful support of my scribblings ::hugs::

 Virgil Tracy was made for heavy lifting.

He had been known to say it on occasion and he had certainly proved it on many others. Hell, she’d heard Gordon say his brother was built like a ‘brick shithouse’, but that was Gordon, and Gordon had issues.

Regardless of external opinion, Virgil was the physical powerhouse of International Rescue, both physically and mentally. It was a known fact.

But it had never been displayed so blatantly to Kayo until this moment.

She was dressed in loose sweats, standing in the doorway of the gym. Virgil was at the weights on the far side of the room and literally pounding through his routine.

Now this was nothing new. The man hadn’t gained his physique from painting or playing the piano. There was a certain amount of training that needed to be maintained to keep his muscular tone for when it was needed out in the field.

But he didn’t usually leave his shirt off.

Pumping his standard barbel, feet spread firmly, earphones in, a thin sheen of sweat…

Kayo blinked. She was being ridiculous. He was obviously shirtless because of the healing injury on his back. But…

“Enjoying the scenery?”

Kayo startled. Grandma Tracy was standing right next to her – illustrating exactly how distracted she was.

Surprise immediately turned to mortification.

“Grandma?” Was her voice a little higher than usual?

A hand landed on her shoulder. “Honey, any hot-blooded woman walking past would be distracted by that.” She waved a hand in the direction of her grandson.

Kayo simply stared at her grandmother.

“What? I was a girl once, too, you know. The grey hairs are only for the respect.”

Grandma looked up at her, catching her eyes and holding them for a moment. Quietly. “So, have you worked it out yet?”

A frown. “I’m sorry?”

Grandma smiled just slightly before drawing her away from the door and out of the sight of Virgil, should he look up. “Kayo, honey, you’ve been staring at him for weeks now. Virgil is a good man. You couldn’t do better.” She leant in. “Ask him.”

“Ask him what?” She played it innocent, but there was a voice in the back of her mind laughing at her.

“Really?” She arched an eyebrow. “You want to play it that way?”

Kayo sighed, admitting defeat, her shoulders slumped just that fraction. “He’s my brother, Grandma.”

“Not really.” A hand on her arm. “He’s worth the risk, honey.”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Grandma kissed her on the cheek and patted her on the arm. “Think about it. He’ll still love you either way.” A sparkle in her eye. “And I’m here if you need me. Us girls need to stick together on this island.”

That brought a smile to Kayo’s face. Quietly. “Yes, we do.”

“Now go in there and kick his ass off those weights. The man is obsessed with getting back into the air and he’s going to break himself if we’re not careful.”

An alarmed frown. “How long has he been at it this time?”

“Oh, since about 9am.”

It was nearly lunchtime.

“Excuse me, Grandma.” She was going to kick his ass alright. How many times did she have to tell him. Why were men such blockheads when it came to recovery?

She stormed into the gym. “Virgil!”

The barbel hit the floor with a resounding thud.

-o-o-o-

Sally held back a laugh. Kayo’s voice was bouncing all over the gym, her ire at him risking his recovery only matched by his stumbling and guilty replies.

Virgil didn’t have a hope with that girl.

Shaking her head, she made her way back into the main part of the house. Entering the comms room, she wasn’t surprised to find her eldest grandson sitting at his father’s desk working through reports.

Kayo’s angry voice suddenly echoed across the building, followed by Virgil emitting a not-quite-squawk.

Scott winced. “She caught him, huh?”

Sally smirked. “Let’s just say, I set aim and fired.”

“If he doesn’t stop this, I’m going to have to threaten to ground him for even longer.”

“Hon, leave it to Kayo.” Another smirk. “I doubt he will be doing that again.”

Scott winced. “You are a cruel and evil woman, Grandma.”

A shrug. “Well, he wouldn’t listen to me. He wouldn’t listen to you. Time for the big guns.” She studied her eldest for a moment. “Fifty bucks says she asks him out before he does.”

She held back another smile as Scott startled. “Grandma?!”

Really? Were all men blind or did they prefer to live in denial?

“I know it. You know it. Those two have been eyeing each other for weeks now.” An arched eyebrow. “Your thoughts?”

He eyed her, his lips thinning, but curling into a smirk. Blue sparkled. “I think, Grandma, that you are on.”

-o-o-o-

 Part One.

 “Virgil!”

That voice, that sharp, crap, what the hell had he done?

He dropped the barbel, narrowly missing his feet.

It wasn’t out of guilt. No, it wasn’t.

Yes, it was.

Kayo was charging towards him across the gym. The glare on her face was enough to strip off a layer of skin.

Shirtless, goose-pimples radiated out across his chest, sweat cooling now he had stopped moving. His diaphragm was still heaving from his exertions, the exercise setting his blood running high

“What the hell do you think you are doing?!”

Momentarily stuck on the decision of whether speaking or not speaking would be the less death-causing option, he didn’t respond fast enough and defaulted to the latter.

“Do you have any idea what it was like to watch you tumble from that train?”

His eyes widened. Again his speech function failed to boot. God, her eyes were gorgeous.

“You were lucky you weren’t killed! Your brother and I had to pick you off the road. I thought…” She swallowed. “Why are you pushing so hard? Do you want to relapse? Do you want to put us through more worry and pain?”

“Uh.”

She stalked up into his personal space and shoved a finger into the middle of his chest. “Virgil Tracy, you do not have the right!” Her fingernail was sharp and he yelped, staggering backwards.

“Kayo-“

“Do you have any idea what you put me through? Do you?”

Virgil froze. Kayo didn’t…

She glared up at him and he was shocked to see her eyes glistening in the overhead fluorescents. God.

“I’m-“

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.” It came from deep in her throat. The passion in her eyes screamed at him.

She was so close. So angry.

So beautiful.

He leant in and captured her lips with his own. The moment froze as she startled, her hands flying up to his shoulders.

But she didn’t push him away.

Their kiss deepened. Her tongue brushed against his lips, parting them.

And she was in his arms. God, so beautiful.

Time hung. And then it restarted again as she gently pulled away.

Staring up at him.

He found his voice, tight and throaty. “Kayo?”

Quietly. “Virgil. Stop overdoing it.” And she stepped back, her eyes trailing up and down his perspiring body. She swallowed, her stance more uncertain than he had ever seen her. Her eyes caught his once more.

And she turned and left, stalking around the gym equipment, bee-lining for the door.

The room fell quiet.

Sweat dried on his skin and he shivered.

-o-o-o-

He didn’t see her after that.

He was left wondering if he had permanently damaged their relationship, if he had ruined what little chance he had.

Part of him desperately wanted to see her, to touch her again. The rest of him was terrified what would happen if he did.

Caught in limbo.

And she left.

Without saying goodbye.

He discovered it by accident, walking through the comms room. Scott had been talking to Gordon about a possible rescue in the Philippines. He mentioned Kayo would be unavailable.

Virgil froze.

“What did you say?”

“Huh?” Scott looked tired and worried.

“About Kayo.”

“Oh, she was called out on a mission by the GDF. Left this morning.”

“Where?” He could be curious, couldn’t he?

“Indonesia. Apparently, some terrorists have holed up on one of the smaller islands. Colonel Casey thought Kayo had some expertise that could help.”

“Oh.”

Scott frowned. “Virg, you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

His brother’s frown didn’t fade. “How’s the back?”

“Fine.”

“The knee?”

“Fine.”

Scott’s lips thinned and Gordon snorted. “Way to go on the info sharing there, bro.”

Virgil sighed. “I am fine. Quit bugging me.” And he left the room.

-o-o-o-

Scott stared after his brother. Virgil’s mood had been fragile since Kayo had cornered him two days ago. He wondered exactly what had happened between the two of them. It was very unlike Virgil to be so unpredictable in reaction. Usually calm and steadfast, his brother was now snappy and keeping to himself more often than not.

But Virgil, being Virgil, it would surface at some point. Scott just needed to make sure he was at the right place at the right time to be there for his brother.

So, he let it go.

Two more days passed and his brother kept quiet, only sniping when prodded. Alan was avoiding Virgil like he always did on the rare occasion the bigger man went bear. Gordon being Gordon manifested his concern by poking that bear, trying to find out what was wrong. This usually resulted in said bear snarling and leaving the room.

John was safe 23,000 kilometres away and knew it.

And that left Scott, scrambling for strategies to corner his brother and find out why he was hurting.

After all a snarling Virgil was a rarity and it usually meant something was seriously wrong.

But he didn’t get the chance. Halfway through the third day, he found Virgil sitting in the comms room with his sketch pad. It was clear the man was having little success in his endeavours, as screwed up paper lay everywhere. Scott approached his brother, but was interrupted by John flaring into existence in the middle of the room.

“Guys, we have a situation.”

Scott sighed. “Go ahead, Thunderbird Five.”

“I have intercepted a transmission to the GDF. It appears to be a combination of a threat and a ransom demand.”

“What?”

John looked almost frightened, an expression so unfamiliar on his calm brother’s face to be terrifying. “It’s Kayo. She’s been captured.”

There was the clatter of a sketchbook falling to the floor.

Scott’s throat was suddenly tight. “Explain, Thunderbird Five.” Keep it professional.

The space monitor’s eyes were darting between those of his eldest brothers. “Sorry, guys, this isn’t pleasant.” And the display switched to the recording.

It was Kayo, out of uniform, bound to a chair, her face sporting bruises. A male voice was spouting demands in another language. A translation was appearing at the bottom of the display, no doubt John at work, something about money, freedom and the threat from the GDF.

Scott only had eyes for the anger in his sister’s. Their green, despite one of them being almost swollen shut, screamed fury and vengeance.

The recording waffled on some more about the evil of the GDF. Then a fist flew into the view and hit his sister.

Scott flinched. There was a muffled something to his right, and the recording was yelling. Kayo spat blood at the camera, a drop or two landing on the lens. The holographic spatter hovered in the air in front of them.

“Deliver or she dies.”

And it cut off.

The room was suddenly silent.

A sharp retort echoed as a pencil snapped in two.

Scott flinched.

As John reappeared, Scott wanted answers. “Do you have her location?”

His brother was troubled. “Not yet, but I will. Eos is trawling the network. Thunderbird Shadow is still at the base in Jakarta. She must have taken alternative transport. She is not wearing her uniform so I have no signal from that. The fact that I cannot locate her wrist comm or her locator has me concerned. I suspect her captors know more than they are letting on. I will let you know more as we find out.” John hesitated, his eyes once again bouncing between both of his older brothers. “I’m sorry.”

And he cut transmission.

Scott swallowed his fury. The harsh breathing to his right told him that this time, he had to be the calm one.

A breath and he turned to face Virgil.

His brother was pale and his body was almost vibrating with the fear and the anger in his eyes. The broken pencil lay discarded at his feet.

“Virg?”

The younger man flinched, his eyes going wide for just a moment before the more familiar calm settled over his features. It settled cold, control hiding the emotions no doubt roiling below the surface. It was almost chilling to watch.

Brown eyes, usually warm with affection, turned on him as cold as tundra. A rasp. “What are we going to do?”

Scott’s lips thinned. “We need further information. We need to give John and Eos the time to locate her.”

“Time.” It was a snarl. “They’re hurting her, Scott.”

Quietly, with his hands held up as if to calm a storm. “I know. John is doing his best. The GDF-“

“The GDF! You have got to be kidding!”

“Virgil-“

His brother threw up his hands. “I can’t...” And he was shaking his head. “Just...” Emotion boiled and Virgil turned away. “I’ll be in the hanger. Keep me apprised.”

Heavy boots hurried from the room, and Scott was left staring at where his brother had been.

The broken pencil screamed at him.

-o-o-o-

Part Two

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbird fanfiction #virgil tracy #kayo kyrano #virgil/kayo #warm rain

[breathiingg]

Hey! So I came here from your 707 meme and I've seen your other memes (plus the ones from KS) and I love them so so much~ But! I noticed you didn't have any headcanons or fanfiction published yet so I wanted to be the first to ask for headcanons :3 Can you please do headcanons of the RFA + V & Saeran reacting to finding out that MC has been cutting herself lately because of a relapse caused by overwhelming stress from work? Bring on the angst, I had a shit day anyway :D please & thank you~

first of all, thank you so so much that was such a thoughtful thing to do I’m at such a loss for words (ﾉ∀`♥) but secondly, I’m so so sorry you had a bad day (◕︿◕✿) if you want to, I’m always free to talk about these things or just talk in general, okay? mama’s got youuuu (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

I’ve had a really bad last three months and I’m in a loop I really can’t get out of so this topic is honestly something I can relate to pretty well, but it’s something I have hope for? like I think I can get out of this loop and find my way and it goes for everyone else who’s in that same loop ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ so for that reason, I'm gonna try to make the headcanons happier (i will still try to make it angsty no worries~)

soooooooo~ without further ado… (this is going to be very long btw)

Yoosung

this boy was just casually playing LOL on his pc when you come into the room freaking out

“Yoosung, where are all my long sleeve shirts?”

he looks at you confused

it’s the middle of summer???

why on earth would you need long sleeve shirts in the middle of summer????

he casually points to the laundry basket in the corner

“Sorry, MC, but I think you used up all your long sleeve shirts. Why do you need them anyway?”

your eyes just dart to the ground as you tell him you’re just cold

BOI IS CONFUSED

IT IS THE SUMMER  H O W

he doesn’t say anything though but the boy is worried

so as soon as you left the room, gamer child decides to consult google about the problem

“Why would my girlfriend wear long sleeve shirts in the middle of summer?”

google gives many answers

one of them was “Because she’s Russian”

are you Russian??? gamer child doesn’t know so he ignores it

but then an article about depression catches his attention

he looks through the whole thing about 64 times because you fit all the symptoms and child is now very very worried

but Yoosung knows he can’t just ask you about it so he waits

and that night, when you were both supposed to be sleeping, he sneaks a peek

he sees the scars, old and new, and he just starts trembling

he starts sniffling and then crying, and soon enough, he’s flooding the place

and of course, considering how FUCKING loud this child cries, you wake up

the moment you turn towards him to see what the problem was, he just pulls you into the tightest and wettest hug you’ve ever had

well considering all those shower “incidents” that’s debatable but that’s not the point

“MC, please, please don’t hurt yourself like that. It hurts me so much to see you like this. I love you so so much, don’t you know that?”

well you can’t really lie about the situation so you just mutter a quiet “I’m sorry…” under your breath

y’all just stay like that for the rest of the night, comforting each other as you sobbed in each other’s arms

he repeatedly told you over and over how much he loves you

and you told him everything

ad he understood.

the next few weeks after that, this child gives you all the love he could possibly give in the world

cooks for you, cleans for you, helps you with your work, you name it

he even stopped playing LOL just to give you the love and care you deserve

and you better bet your ass this will go on until you get better

Zen

there’s only one thing this boy loves more than anything (besides you and himself)

and you can bet your dog to the nearest pawnshop owner that it’s taking selfies

so naturally, this boy takes like 398459284 selfies everyday and you can bet your ass that he’ll get pissed every time his phone reminds him that he literally has zero storage left

so one day, he’s pretty much just randomly going through his camera roll, smiling at all the pictures he took of the both of y’all and remembering all the good times

but he notices a pattern

ever since about a few weeks ago, he noticed you wearing more jeans than shorts, and then there was a point where you just completely stopped wearing anything else but jeans

Zen doesn’t really think anything of it except for the fact that he missed seeing those sexyass legs

so guess what he does?

boy whines to you about it nonstop

“Baaaabeeeee, I miss seeing your gorgeous legs~ Why don’t you wear shorts anymoreeeeeee?”

you just shrug and make up some kind of excuse about starting to become conscious of going out in such short shorts

i mean it’s not really true but you can’t really tell him what’s really going on here, right?

 well turns out your lie backfired on you ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

he sets your jeans on fire bc you’re a liar lol get it? liar liar jeans on fire? no?

okay no, he doesn’t, but he does convince you to wear shorts for him in the house bc hey, if it’s just the two of y’all, you have no reason to be conscious, right?

good job, MC

so you end up doing it for him, but you wear knee-high socks nonetheless so he won’t see a thing and position yourself so that your hands are always covering your lower thigh area

you make him uber suspicious tho

but he just pouts but he doesn’t say anything

but jokes on you, he ends up seeing them anyway when he walks in on you changing

he sees the scars on your thighs, and his eyes widens

he runs to you in the speed of fast

and this boy starts kissing them

“Zen, what the hell are you doing?”

he just keeps kissing them and nuzzling them until you start giggling bc it’s starting to tickle

“With scars or not, your legs are still gorgeous, babygirl, but that still doesn’t mean this is okay. Don’t do it again, okay? For me, and for you.”

and from then on, he makes you model in shorts for him everyday and kisses your scars after each and every time

this goes on until all your scars heal

Jumin

kink master & sex god

he loves loves l o v e s to buy you lingerie, okay

and he loves doing sexy time with you too

which happens frequently

so obviously, when you stop having sexy time with him as often and then stop altogether, he’ll think something’s up

like you won’t even let him see you naked anymore, not even when you’re just wearing your bra and underwear 

obviously he’ll think something’s up

but this boy.

oh this boy.

he panics.

he thinks you don’t love him anymore.

he thinks he’s going to lose the one person he cares about the most.

jumin s t o p

i’ll have you know that his bff 4 lyfe had to talk to him about this and calm him down

“Just talk to her,” V says, so that’s exactly what he does.

but before that, he goes out and buys you some new lingerie since he hasn’t done that in a while

IT’S BEAUTIFUL OKAY SO ELEGANT AND PRETTY AND I JUST

MMMMMMMMM

but anyways

when you see that he just bought some lingerie for you, you already know what’s up

and you just sigh and give him a tired smile

“Sorry, Jumin…”

NUH UH HE AIN’T HAVING NONE OF THAT

he pulls you in into a sweet, passionate kiss

and just from that kiss alone, you could tell that he missed you

and god did you feel worse

he politely and gently asks for an explanation

but you just didn’t want to tell him, not like this

so you decided to show him

you grab the lingerie that he neatly laid out on the bed and you slowly put it on, your back turned to him

but as soon as you turned around, he saw the scars you traced onto your belly

he closes his eyes sighs

he understands

he understands but i think that’s what hurt him the most

he pulls you in for another kiss

“I’ll love you all night,” he whispered lovingly in your ear

“I’ll love you throughout every single night until you love yourself too, because you are beautiful. You are the most beautiful person that has ever touched my soul, and you are the only one who has ever made me feel like love was a possibility for me. I love you so much…I highly doubt that would ever change. A girl that amazing shouldn’t harm herself like this.”

and with those words, you find yourself crying into his welcoming arms

well, you know what comes after ｡^‿^｡

Jaehee

you love over the shoulder tops

it’s just your thing

it’s what you always wear when you’re working at the cafe

hell, both of y’all even have matching over the shoulder tops you got at Disneyland with those cliche “She’s my Disney Princess” phrases

and y’all would frequently wear those at work and everyone just swwwoooooooonsssss 

you’re the perky, clumsy little girlfriend who practically bounces with excitement everytime she greeted customers and she was the calm responsible one who sat behind the counter and watched her girlfriend with such loving eyes

it’s just always been that way

and then out of nowhere, it stopped.

it was gradual at first

but then it just stopped.

at first, you just seemed like you were tired all the time and you weren’t as excited so Jaehee just assumed that you were tired

but then you stopped wearing over the shoulder tops

or anything that showed even an inch of your shoulders

in fact, you seemed to hate anything that showed your shoulders

and that’s when it started becoming worrying

and let me tell you, anyone who’s been to that cafe at least once is worried af

they love you to death, you better bet your bare ass they’re hella worried about you

well your birthday was coming up so everyone plans a surprise birthday party in order to maybe cheer you up

and well, you didn’t know about it duh

so one day, you decide to wear an over the shoulder top that shows your scars and work on a Saturday so that no one would be at the cafe

BUT GUESS WHAT

“SURPRISE!” screamed practically everyone

and they saw everything

the scars

everything

even Jaehee

you fall to your knees and started sobbing really hard

but surprise again

everyone knew about it already

and boy do they have news for you

everyone comes over with their gifts in their hands and guess what they were

over the shoulder tops

“It’s okay, MC,” Jaehee comforted. So what if you have scars? You’re going through a tough time, aren’t you? We understand that. We’re here to support you through those times, so don’t be afraid to open up to us, okay? If you don’t want to, that’s okay, we’ll understand. But we’re always here for you, remember that.”

and with that, MC practically floods the place

and from then on, she happily wore over the shoulder tops everyday until her scars healed

Saeyoung

he saw you

every cut you slit

every time you tried to hide it

he saw you

he saw everything

and each time he saw it, he broke a little more

he was convinced it was somehow his fault

after all, everyone he loved and cared about always got hurt when they were around him

and this was what he was afraid of

but he tried his best to stay sane for you

you need support right now and he needs to offer it

and you know he knows

it’s not like you can hide anything from him with all the damn cameras around the house

so you showed them freely around him

once he saw that you were comfortable showing them around him, he immediately grabbed your wrists

“This is Wilbert,” he says, pointing to faintest and oldest (yet also deepest) cut. “He’s an old man who hates children on his lawn, meaning…”

He drew a circle around your wrist.

“This is Wilbert’s lawn.” he points to your freshest wound and says, “This is Timmy. He is the youngest.”

He looks up at you to see your reaction, and when he saw that you were giggling, he sat you down on the couch and continued the naming session

everyday, y’all would cuddle on the couch and update the life stories of your scars

everyday, there was a new story for every cut

Emily learned how to ride her bike

Kyle asked out Lily and got rejected big time

Wilbert became best of friends with Timmy

it was the only way he could keep sane

and it helped you stop the self-harm too, which in turn helped keep him sane

and this continued until your scars healed completely

and when they finally healed, he kissed each and every one

“Rest in peace, everyone. Let’s put an end to this story, okay? I care too much about my MC, so it seems like we won’t be able to have a sequel. Sorry.” he smiles faintly and turns to you

he was crying

you were crying

and y’all kiss each other’s tears away

V

you always slept on the right side of the bed

and when you started to cut yourself, this came at an advantage since V was the blindest on his right eye

so whenever you believed he was asleep, that’s when you would do it because unless he turned to completely look at you, he wouldn’t really be able to figure out what you were doing

but one night, while you thought he was asleep, he speaks up

“You know I know what you’re doing, right, MC?”

well fuck

he sits up as you put the blade away

“Come with me.”

he takes your hand and navigates his way to his studio with the other hand

he asks you to take your clothes off and stand right in front of the camera

you were really really confused but you did it anyway

like are we gonna make a sex tape or some shit what’s up

and he goes right behind the camera

well, he pretty much tells you to pose a certain way and takes lots of pictures of you from different angles

all of your scars are showing oh so clearly

and afterwards, he prints the pictures and shows them to you

and for some reason… you were crying?

you didn’t understand why but you wept and wept and wept

“You see,” he says while caressing your scars. “That’s how I feel. Seeing someone so beautiful feel so sad that she does this to her body? It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Rip them up,” he says. “All of them. Tell yourself that this isn’t something you deserve and rip them up.”

and so you did

and god, did you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders

and for the rest of your lives together, whenever you felt like doing it again, he sets up another photo shoot for you to print and rip up more pictures

and it always made you feel so much better

Saeran

you were acting strangely

your eyes were glazed over and the sparkle was no longer there

you weren’t as happy as you normally were

he always said your energy was annoying but he didn’t want this

because in reality, he loved it

he was still in the process of healing and all the positivity you were showing was helping him and making him so so happy

and he feels like this is all his fault because he never told you how he truly felt

he is panicking

but when he couldn’t take it anymore, he pretty much yelled at you in the middle of dinner

“Say something, goddammit! You’ve been acting like a damn zombie and I just can’t figure out what’s going through your fucking mind! Say something…please…I can’t take this anymore.”

the helplessness and desperation in his voice was enough to make a lump form in your throat

“I’m sorry, Saeran…” and that was all you could say

and then he starts crying

and at this point, you couldn’t take it anymore either so you start crying too

and y’all just cry through dinner

by the time y’all have calmed down, you pulled him over to the sofa and showed him your scars

“MC….”

he pulls down his sleeve and shows you his

and when you looked like you were about to cry again, he pulls you in for a hug, and for once, he was honest

“This isn’t right. We need help. I want to be normal again, MC, for you. For us. I want to make you happy…I don’t want to be a burden. I…care about you. You make me happy. And I want you to be happy too. I want both of us to be happy and okay. Together.”

and after that, he starts taking you to therapy with him

and it took a while for him to really open up and be honest

but one day, out of nowhere, he pulls you in for a hug after you made dinner, grabbed your wrist and kissed your scars. “Can I reword what I said to you on the sofa that one night months ago? I’ve been practicing.”

you nodded with a confused look as he pecked your lips.

“Basically…I love you.”

you smile as tears fall down your cheeks

you grab his wrist and kiss his scars just like he did yours

“I love you too.”

(I realized I forgot to make this about work stress…sorry anon;;)

#i'm sorry that this sucks so badddd #angst #mystic messenger #mysme #mm #707 #seven #luciel choi #saeyoung choi #saeran choi #mysme v #jihyun kim #unknown #jumin han #jaehee kang #yoosung kim #zen #hyun ryu #headcanons #rfa

[stashinhunnids]

"You should write a book"

"What if I said I don't believe in god?" My fingers stuttered to type. I had no idea there was anyone out there who didn't have the faith I'd held on so tight to. After a seemingly disappointing conversation with someone I would soon fall in love with, I realized down the road that this was only the beginning of an entirely new world I never knew of. Drugs, heartbreak, I love you, I'm clean, I'm in the closet crying, slicing up my body on the phone with you as you are hiding from the police that have come to take you away "Will you still be here when I come back?" "Yes." I've come to learn that if anything I am my own god in my subconscious because I am what makes my decisions and I am who decides to feel wrong or right when I do. I didn't feel wrong to swear or break every pencil sharpener in the house, leading to no guilt in the thought of suicide, or getting high. I liked the way these things made me feel, I was tied around someone with addiction who made me question my worth or what I wasn't doing enough of. Just the first one to pull me in until I'm pryed out. It seems to be the only way of taking me away from these habits of forgiveness undeserved. Oddly enough, the first becomes one who only made me question my worth in a sense of how much more i am in the end. As I write this I wonder if the others who locked me up in their words will end up having the same effect. So far, fuck no. I spent my first night having experiencing disbelief researching how to help someone you love stop smoking. Reading endless comments of how I should leave him alone cause weed wasn't a big deal. I wish I would've known that a simple plant was the least of my worries when being in love with someone who was in the mind state I ended up in years later. I never knew how much worst the want to get high could get. I should've known I was one with an addictive personality when I found myself ripping people off and stealing left and right just to get ahold of something like weed or liquor. Whipped cream vodka and menthol tastes like my first move of rebellion. I can hear the older boys instructing me to inhale in the backyard of the house with cuts on every other arm of every kid who resided there in every present moment  Everyone wanted to die before the real desire had even begun. Something seems so big but it's so small as it only continues to grow and wrap it's ideas through every inch of your brain. Get fucked up, cut yourself. Find a rope in the basement? Better learn to tie a noose. Whose stopping me? My family's asleep and I read messages telling me I'm loved but nothing feels like  love more than blood stained poems and holding that rope in my hand on the floor of my closet. You say you love me and that I'm worth more, I'll believe every word you say but I always knew that what happened between us at times could not be the love I had seen.  Razors and knives over the fence just cause I wanted you to spend a moment alone with me knowing good and well I'd go home and collect more. Bracelets up to my elbows at school, he took my first kiss along with every last ounce of mental freedom I had for the time being. I can't blame it all on him, but the influence of your first love and taste of breaking rules can be one of the strongest when you're a 12 year old girl. They asked if I cut myself I'd say no knowing tears welled up in my eyes everytime, and those tears turned into a laughter when asked about my scars because the mental straining from myself and ones I loved can build walls up to the point where you no longer realize true emotions until your in a therapists office in another state while they tell you these thoughts are serious. I haven't touched a blade to my skin once this year and it'll be my first year that I don't do it at least once. I would say I don't do it anymore until I became so lost in my mind it was all I knew. A friend gave me a list of coping skills, I got told they were bullshit. So I didn't even try. I thought I knew what sadness was when my parents became lost and sent me to live with my godparents in Oregon. all I did was stay up all night looking at pictures of girls with eating disorders and deeper cuts than I could ever manage to make at the time. I wanted to see it on my own body, it was sick. I don't think so, but a 3rd perspective sees different and I've become aware of that. I wore long sleeves all summer but it didn't matter cause I was never awake when it was light out only at 3am when they fell asleep and I was alone to think. He was falling in love with the girl who lived at the house where the self harming smokers hung out. He was the whole time. He spoke of her the day he walked me home from school while I missed the bus on purpose just so he would offer his time to me. The girl I'm talking about happens to be nodding out next to me cause we're coming down off dope and neither of us want to be the one to say this is wrong. Why? My subconscious has changed its morals in good but terrifying ways. I'd say in a non romantic way this girl is my soul mate despite any boy who wrecks my smiles. She doesn't break my heart, I tried to break her dope pipes. A month or so out of rehab I began to break my streak of sobriety in the ways my therapist predicted. The ones advice I should have followed were the ones who always anticipated my failiure. "What are you gonna do when you get out spring?  Run off with your tweaker boyfriend and he's gonna give you the world? Get real. You're almost 18" I know she has reasoning behind this but I tricked myself into thinking I was better now, and that he was too. He lied to me and I lied to myself without even knowing it. I realized I was not better the more I became convinced I'd be calling a room with 2 bunk beds home until my 18th birthday, I knew deep down things wouldn't go well when my dad drove me back to the facility during my last home visit. He talked to me about my mom and how he did everything he could for her to stay and I always thought he hurt her but on my first visit he brought me envelopes of information telling otherwise and I will never let curiosity overtake me enough to read the last one. I don't want to know.  He spoke of this everytime he got serious with me. Hot food from the drive thru on my lap as we inched closer to the place where the girls break windows and whisper at night when we're not supposed to,  my dad told me he signed the paperwork for me to come home January 4th. This only led to a feeling of tears stuck in my throat that didn't fall until I got strip searched for the last time and realized I could make this the last time I have to show a stranger my body but the tears fell cause I knew I wasn't ready for that. Sounds ridiculous. It led to me not so mindfully signing papers making commitments to be different than I was when I was splitting my scripts with jayme every month plotting to slice my wrists to watch my life bleed out into warm water. I said I was better and ready to prove them all wrong but I was never right about that for long the anticipation from the outside was eating me alive. Relapse once, my whole family says I'm selling dope. I couldn't escape not cause I always searched for a high but because the high would never leave until I was on the frontrunner going south bound eyeliner smeared, dilated pupils, -5 pounds, dehydrated and I ignored my boss for 2 days when I should've been at work. So hungry but so tired I have to sleep till 6pm before I can even manage to comprehend being awake long enough to make something to eat. Looking at my body in the mirror after wishing I had the will to puke it up in time before the calories register in my body and there's no going back unless I binge again. I didn't necessarily like the high as much as I did that first hit. But Ionged to watch it melt and see the smoke rise. 10 o clock, 2 o clock, back and forth until I have no room to breathe in more then I exhale a cloud the size of my body and smile. A week on dope feels quicker than an hour sober and I could always look in the mirror after we run out and I wake up from crashing, and I dig the way my cheeks will begin to sink in, and they can't call me fat once my jeans become loose and I can wear a crop top without constantly thinking about the way my belly looks when people look at me. The jawline I'd contour in the year before became a reality but I just wanted to be less of matter and more of a walking shard because I love to watch the dope burn and imagine the scale subtracting weight with each week I go. When will I see my hip bones? When will I get up from this fucking table in the basement of the house I was raped in and stop writing psychotic thoughts in my journal. Are they psychotic? Or is that my new abusive lovers voice projecting into my own as my therapist said? If I decide my thoughts are normal is that me minimizing my issues like I also tend to do? I wish I could tell the fucking difference but I absolutely can't. 8th grade I said I was done smoking weed pinkie promising the first boy that I wasn't about to go get high, well I was. He was bringing crack rocks to school and I heard it from the kids while he played sober, I just let him. I learned not to feel guilty with lies as long as I heard of the girls he was flirting with in the halls, the way he wouldn't lie about it when I asked. They all saw him walk me home from school they warned me he'd break my heart but I was willing to take a hammer to it myself if it meant he'd throw rocks at my window the next night and lay on my trampoline with me or in the middle of the road we wanted to pretend like we were in a romance novel but the books never tell about the things that go on behind the society built fake smiles this generation is addicted to. Every girl I'm close with has been hit, screamed at, and walked all over by one boy or another.  Stock Holm syndrome has become a mindset we might as well all be born with if you live in this shitty but nostalgic city. It smells like fresh cut grass and cigarettes. It tastes like your first taste of whatever substance grabbed you by the throat first. And it feels like the most addicting terrifying yet comforting mindset you have when you fall in love with mind game playing addicts who change their ways or continue to wreck everything you try to accomplish outside of what they desire. My first love went to get help while my new one came along with the familiar sound of wheels on a skateboard and a different ego than the last with completely unburied and bad intentions he didn't know he was moving towards. Did he ever stop and look at the tears in my eyes and shakiness in my body? It's impossible not to feel the drained energy as I sit in the doorway at school wishing I could take back the last hour of yelling and had just kept my cool with him. I did my best but I was beginning to deteriorate into someone I didn't know I could be. Pathologically lying to catch your attention, forming elaborate situations that never really happened cause I just hoped you would see you could lose me whenever without me having to leave. Told you I couldn't smoke cigarettes just to down a pack once I left your sight. You didn't want me wearing skirts so I tucked them away along with everything else that became irrelevant as you said so. Lsd and subway, naruto on pain pills, listen to Mac miller on shrooms "you said you just wanted to play one song" "Well babe it's YouTube it auto plays after every song" Still my fault. We had no reason to fight that night, sat against your wall looking at pictures of mandalas I wanted you to forget the anger you always carried with you. Outside, the rust on the stairs looks like blood dripping and would you look at the stars? Wow. I wanted to look at your eyes instead. Taste of codeine in the back of my throat, xanax powder in my nose. Nod out, wake up, fight, get my fix or she can get the fuck out. We're done. "Single", I'm sorry I'll delete it. You push me I lose it. Alcohol down the drain is the istrumental to me walking away from those apartments while the main chorus was you calling me a whore. I never got far from you and the one time I made it to my empty house on van buren, sure enough at 3am you called and we talked Until the first bus was running and of course I got ready and came back. The psyche ward became a vacation and I'd get out to apologies in my inbox. Recognize mistakes, forget. Habits, habits, habits. Break your hand on purpose you need some pain pills to get by. We crushed up every single one to touch our fingers. Come down, let's take it out on each other. It's better we stay away from each other but for some reason suffering side by side with a toxic tension seemed like a better option. When did I walk away and actually want to leave ? I always wanted you to follow me. Make up after midnight, I'll cry myself to sleep. "Why are you crying" well I'm a little broken and the cars don't stop hitting people everyone is dying and you tell me to get the fuck over it and I don't know how. "He was helpless and dying in the road, he put him out of his misery" it's silent but I have to confirm. No sense in arguing. Lying about where I'm at because it never worked to just tell you I want to see my best friend. I get high, say goodbye. 3 days later you pick me up who gave you those marks on your neck? I won't cry. Don't worry just please pick me up I'm dying for your abuse. Whose this girl? Why did you lie? Hyperventilating as you caress my body to tell me every reason why I'm better than her but the next day I get the call. You've gone off with her and I'm face down on the bed, I slept on when you weren't around with the girl who reminded me to keep moving, I've got tears hotter than the flame in your eyes rolling down my cheeks. Pills on pills how did I end up at your house again? "I'll sleep on the floor" but I woke up with your arms on me like we're lovers again. Until the ambulance comes because nothing has held me tighter and made me feel more like I can escape like the straps that hold me down on the Gurnee. Evaluations with that same guy on the computer screen. IVs and body checks, call my mom, cry about it. Screaming and restraints, I feel fine. I should stay forever but I really should go now. He's falling deeper in love with the girl from my 4th grade class and it has to stop.. stop... Stop.. it all becomes a nightmare later.  I got you back but she never left. Leave me in your bed to get breakfast with her. She'll send you pictures of you holding her naked in your bathroom, but your phone is in my hand. You're not home. Bitch. Fast forward to the roxies we inhaled. Fail a drug test once, twice, 3 times. Run. Drugs. Guns. Fight, yell, scream, chase, walk away. I'll get a video later of a cop stomping your face in the grass and I'm so, high. So I only get higher cause you're gone, and there's nothing that could go wrong except a bottle of jager and a motel 6. Who knew he'd twist the story just to talk me down until the love of my life is with that girl in  the house where it all took place. Didn't I come to mind? I came home you're nowhere to be found but I already heard it all so you don't have to explain. Who shot him? And why did I let your voice be the last he heard from me? Cause you picked up the phone when he called the year before and we never spoke again. I couldn't let that happen again. Grounds for coffee I wanted closure, you grabbed my ass when we stepped outside and I realized you weren't gonna let that happen. Laying next to you as I have a panic attack. I can feel every gram of toxicity come off of you I see the craze in your eyes when you speak of bullets going through your brain. I can't tell you what's wrong cause it only makes it worst. I'm back with jayme and you sliced your wrists. "She got fat" that drew the line but of course that line washed away then I'm in your bed and I'm telling you I don't wanna fuck cause it's not gonna mean a damn thing but I find myself in your room more than once this year, and find myself talked about to your friends like the hoe you brought home from the trap. Make me look dumb in front of your friends that's all good but I had you in my room once too. You made sure to disrespect me there too. Bus tokens on the floor and I count up 36$ fuck i want more drugs. I cry until my white sweater is covered in makeup and heartbreak. Mania for 2 days, "spring needs to get off the dope" but they don't know how it is. Strip me of my clothes and sobriety but you can never un taste me. We take turns coaching the game and I'm getting so tired. I'll just lay in bed with jayme and smoke dope and deny that I do it. Xanax will never be the same and I'll never not want a way to forget you touched me. What are morals anymore ? I'm making out with Mirandas boyfriend in the backyard cause he messaged me while I came down off the dope and coke and cried about you as im going home from the Walmart where I got 1 of the many morning after pills I've had to ingest since you. We couldn't have a kid when we babied our addiction more than anything at least we kept that in place. Because everything else has become askew in one way or another and I don't want another boy I just met to wake up and grab me like I'm his again please stop the nonsense because my mind is picking up the speed as I write he wants to come back i don't want this please take me back to your old bedroom I'd rather be puking straight beer in your trash can knowing you don't love me over this. Why?