#like if i died tomorrow how many people would mourn?

[eloisephillip]

it's officially the part of my birthday where i feel like shit 🤡🤡🤡 (rant below, apologies)

#literally feel like nobody besides my family even cares about me #i feel so alone right now like wow #have i actually made an impact on anybody in the world #does anybody even remember i exist #like genuinely cannot imagine someone that doesn't see me every day actually thinking about me #i feel like the most boring person alive #like if i died tomorrow how many people would mourn? #probably shouldn't be posting this on tumblr.com but whatever #my world shifted when she came into my life and after probably like three years i still think about her #just like don't feel like i've ever had a friend before even though i know i have #but like i genuinely cannot imagine anyone thinking about me the way i think about her #this sounds like such a pathetic cry for attention oh my god #idk i just feel like i'm always going to be this alone and hate that #delete later

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

The fighting in Gaza continues, and the daily lists of soldiers killed are back. We knew they would be. Listening to their families, mourning their precious loved ones, lost forever, is a pain that's only transcended by the pain of listening to the families of those slaughtered on Oct 7. Every once in a while, I think of my darling friend and colleague, Berthe Badihi. She's a Holocaust survivor, and she gives her testimony to our visitors from time to time. Her grandson, Gil, was killed as a soldier in 2002. That's always the part of her testimony that's hardest to sit through, when she talks about how the pain wasn't over even after the Holocaust was, and she kept losing family. But then Berthe speaks about remembering the difference between how Jews died during the Holocaust, with no human dignity, and how her grandson did, and that this is a source of comfort. That he died a free man, with his dignity intact, protecting his family, his people and his country. On Oct 7, Jews were once again slaughtered in ways meant to rob us of our dignity. And that's why we're gonna keep fighting until Hamas is eliminated, no matter how much the death of our soldiers pains us.

The rocket fire into Israel continues, several people were injured today as well, and a school was hit, though thankfully it was empty at the time, so no one was hurt.

Today we salute Gal Gadot. It's been clear that for simply being an Israeli, who's willing to speak for her people, and despite expressing her wishes for the well being of people on both sides of the conflict, there's been (for years!) a campaign meant to demonize her. It's precisely because she's such a big star, that she has so much to lose. Yet, she spoke out loudly against the world's silence when it comes to the atrocities of Oct 7.

Israelis are aware of the rise in antisemitism on college campuses abroad, especially in the US, and we're following as more and more hateful and even violent incidents take place there, and as the congress will be hearing the heads of universities tomorrow. The truth remains that for years, these universities have been taking Qatari money, the government that has taken Hamas under its wing. IDK that there are any donations that these universities stand to lose, which can compete with Qatar's money, but losing their reputation, being called out on the way they've become hotbeds of antisemitism, of hatred, bigotry and violence, might force them to make a change. One can hope, right?

Speaking of money and terrorism, a new study suggests that Hamas made money off of the Oct 7 massacre (or people affiliated with it), by basically trying to bet on an Israeli economic collapse following the massive terror attack Hamas planned. I hope this crime, of making money out of advance knowledge about the imminent slaughter of innocent civilians, can be somehow prosecuted by law.

Speaking of prosecuted by law, Israel is holding a discussion today on how to put the Hamas terrorists who participated in the massacre, and were caught alive. It's not likely they'll go through a normal criminal court. Most people here assume we'll see something mroe akin to the special court which put Adolf Eichmann on trial in 1961.

This is 63 years old Clara Marman.

She was in Hamas captivity for 7.5 weeks. She's been freed during the hostage deal. She has not given any interviews, but I got to hear her daughter, who confirmed something that many speculated on. The daughter, Ma'ayan said explicitly, that the reason why her mother doesn't want to answer questions about how well she was treated by Hamas, is because she's still scared for her brother and partner, who are still held hostage in Gaza.

This is 39 years old Asaf Hamami, with his wife and their 3 kids.

Asaf was a colonel. On Oct 7, he ran straight into battle, and together with his soldiers, they saved kibbutz Nirim from a massacre and butchery, the likes of which we saw at the other kibbutzim. Asaf was considered missing, until the other day, the IDF confirmed that he was killed during that battle with Hamas, and his body was kidnapped to Gaza. The IDF was able to retrieve... enough of Asaf's body to allow for his funeral to be held, but the family understandably wants what Hamas is holding to be saved, and brought back to Israel. I'm going to emphasize again that he was a colonel. In Israel, some of the highest ranking officers still fight themselves. They don't send others to kill and die for them, they put their lives on the line to protect the civilian population. All of it. Jews, Christians, Muslims, Druze, Bedouins, everyone. While Hamas hides in their terror tunnels, leaving the civilians to be their human shields.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish

[theshelbyclan]

Meet the parents

Summary: Your parents want to meet Tommy, after realising you’ve been sneaking off to see him, but you’re a little afraid of whether he’ll behave 

A/N: I just wanted to write the little piece, that’s literally all there’s too it XD Set around season 1, pure fluff and a little smut (Also, I’ve never written any form of smut before so be kind). Here we go!

Words: 2224

*****

“My parents want to meet you.”

Tommy blinked a few times, which made you realise you’d spoken out loud.

“It’s... Uhm...” you stumbled now, unsure of how to continue, “It’s just... I’ve been mentioning you, so they want to meet you.”

He smoked his cigarette in silence and finally said, “You’ve been mentioning me, eh?”

“They kept on asking, about where I went at night.”

“And what did you tell them?”

Somehow, his tone made you nervous, “That I was meeting up with a man.”

Suddenly, a sort of boyish mischievous glint came into his eyes, “And did you tell them what we usually do when we meet up?”

“No,” you blushed, “of course not.”

Tommy smiled and thought about how adorable you looked when embarrassed, “Better not.”

“So?” you asked again.

“So, tomorrow. 6 PM.” And with that, he’d put on his cap and walked out.

*****

It had only been a few months after the boys came back from France. You remembered that day so well: silently, they’d poured back into Birmingham, but they were like ghosts. So many boys who went off were absent now, but the men that had returned? They’d died too.

Your brother never made it back from France. Every day, you mourned him still, but life was too hectic for you to dwell on it. He’d told you, just before he left, “Remember to keep on living!” And so you did, with Thomas Shelby.

Without attracting too much attention to yourself, you walked through the lane, on your way to work in one of the shops. Before the war, and during of course, you’d worked in the factory, but Tommy didn’t want you to anymore. After he’d come back, he often decidedly little things like that for you, without many words. But you didn’t mind.

“Good morning,” you greeted one of your regular customers, who was already waiting by the door for you to open up, “I’ll be right with you, alright? I just need to sign this...” and you showed her the way into the shop.

You prided yourself on not being particularly noteworthy. You weren’t pretty, but not ugly either. You never had the best jokes or the most courage. Most people assumed you weren’t all that interesting and you definitely weren’t the most intelligent girl in Small Heath. But you were stable and practical, and a good cook. Or, at least, that was how you saw yourself.

Tommy entered the shops, just as your workday was coming to an end. When he looked at you, he saw something else entirely than your own self-image. From the second he’d seen you walk by, back when he was only fifteen, he’d taken note of you. To him, you were radiant. Not pretty and therefore easily replaced by some other pretty girl, not sassy or smart, trying to attract attention all the time, but you could light up the room without saying a word. And whenever you were near him, he felt calm. Maybe it was because you were so practical, but on Tommy it had the effect of him wanting to make an impression upon you, all the time. So he’d take you out, properly, he’d have gifts delivered to you and he would impulsively take you down to a special place near the Cut, just so you could be kids again, if only for a moment. You made him light, with all your simplicity. You made him at ease.

And so Tommy stood watching you, until you’d finished with a customer. Then he said, “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” you smiled, feeling his excitement radiating through those two words, “I’m not finished here yet.”

“Close up,” he urged, “We still have another hour before we have tea with your parents.”

“Tea?” you joked, eyes sparkling.

He smiled broadly and took you hand, but you protested, “I have to get changed first! Can’t meet them dressed like this.”

“Why?” Tommy furrowed his brows, “You’re perfect. Besides, your fancy clothes are only going to get messed up again, eh?”

Knowing exactly what he wanted then, you followed him out the shop, hastily locking up. Almost skipping, you followed him through the streets. He looked around to see if anyone was watching the two of you, but you didn’t care at this point. Your heart was beating in your chest for the excitement.

Under the bridge, he immediately pushed you up against the wall and went in for a deep kiss.

“Tommy!” You giggled, “What if anyone sees?”

“Let them fucking watch,” he growled in your ear and at once he made good on his statement by hiking up your skirt.

His hand made his way up your leg, around your thigh, searching frantically almost. And when he’d found your panties and touched you carefully, he grinned, “So, it’s not just me who’s been yearning for this all day...”

Like you’d been caught out, you blushed again. You’d felt yourself get wet the second he’d taken you from the shops and he was all you wanted now.

“Fuck...” he breathed, “All this, for some simple gypsy boy, eh?”

“You’re the most powerful man in Birmingham,” you replied, between moans.

“Yes,” he sounded a little breathless as his hand dipped into your panties, “And you fucking love it.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but as you did, he pushed two fingers inside of you, while rubbing your clit with his thumb. No words came out.

“Tommy...” you whispered, as you felt the stress and exhaustion of the day falling off of you. The warm sensation of pleasure seemed to engulf you, as he slowly moved inside of you. You opened your eyes for a second and saw him watching you.

For a second, he stopped and commented, “Fuck, you are beautiful.”

“That’s all well and good,” you replied, a little annoyed, but also not really, “but would you mind continuing?”

Tommy’s eyebrows shot up, “Very well.” And with that, he grabbed your legs, lifted you off the ground and draped them around his waist. You yelped out and the suddenness of his motion and he laughed along with you. And there he was again: the careless gypsy boy you loved so much.

With your back against the wall, he supported you with one hand and undid his trousers with the other. Meanwhile, he kissed you wildly, like he wouldn’t last another minute without it.

“Do you want me?” he questioned playfully in a low voice.

“Fuck, yes.” You were desperate for it now.

And so was he. Tommy pushed his cock inside of you, gently but certain. At once, a moan escaped your mouth. With a smug face, Tommy started bouncing you up and down in a perfect rhythm.

The sensation washed over you. Clinging onto his neck, you grabbed his hair and buried your face into his shoulder, to keep yourself from calling out. His movements were getting faster and you realised this wouldn’t take long. He did too, but always the gentleman, he took one of your hands and guided it down onto your clit.

“You first,” he ordered, as he traced a hand down your back. It felt like electricity running down your spine.

As you carefully rubbed your clit, Tommy adjusted his speed a little, not wanting to cum before you did.

But is wasn’t necessary. You felt the pressure building up in your abdomen and the familiar tingling sensation working its way down your legs. “Faster,” you ordered him about now, “Fuck, Tommy, make me cum hard!”

And apparently, just your words were enough for him. As he picked up the pace again, and you felt your orgasm take over, so did he. You arched your back and let your head fall back, as your muscles clenched around his cock. Another spasm went through you when he pushed in as deep as he could and ejaculated inside of you.

“Fuck...” he could only breathe, “Fucking hell, what are you doing to me? I’m like some fucking boy again, hardly able to fucking contain myself...”

“Me?” you laughed, after you’d gained your breath again, “What are you doing to me! I was a respectable girl once and now I’m being fucked under the bridge by a gangster!”

“Respectable, eh?” He smirked, after lifting you down from his waist and turning you around to hug you against his chest. Which was good, because standing was still a little hard at the moment. “There’s nothing much respectable about either of us.”

“Yes, there is!” you frowned, “Or there better be soon, because we’re expected at my parents any minute now.”

Tommy lit a cigarette and let his chin rest on your shoulder, “Or we could stay here. Go again. Your parents can fucking wait.”

“No, they can’t,” you said strictly.

He sighed in an almost disappointed manner.

“Maybe afterwards,” you smirked a little.

“Oh, well in that case!” He took your hand and marched off like a man on a mission, “Let’s go meet the parents! Come on, I haven’t got all day!”

*****

As soon as your mum had opened the door, Tommy had put on a big smile you hardly saw these days anymore. For a second, it had made you stumble for words. He’d introduced himself politely to both your parents and even told a few jokes to your younger siblings. He’d complimented the food, offered to help and had been an absolute gentleman throughout. You had no idea how to respond to any of it, but it wasn’t unpleasant by any means.

Only once, you got nervous. After dinner, your father asked, “We of course have heard of what you do, Mr. Shelby. Is it all true?”

Tommy cleared his throat, “People like to tell a lot of stories about me. Most are not true.”

“I don’t believe they are,” your mother reacted quickly, “You seem too sweet to be a menace.”

You send Tommy a look that said: Bravo, you’ve won her over.

Politely, Tommy smiled at her. But your father wanted to know more, “What is it that you do, exactly?”

“I’m just a simple man, a working man, just like you, Mister,” Tommy waved a hand, “And all I want is to make my business a successful one, and if I can make Small Heath a little bit safer in the process, that’s even better. You see, some people may call me a gangster or a criminal, but I look out for my own people. We’ve had it hard here, especially after the war, very hard. I want to make this place, my home, a better place and in doing so, I need to make sure some things change around here. We’ve had enough trouble with the big bosses and the police and petty gangs around here: I’m changing all that. And with Y/N by my side, her wisdom and down-to-earth guidance, I’m sure I can make a change.”

And just like that, he’d won your dad over as well.

After dinner was over, Tommy talked to your father some more in the front room. Your mum wanted to talk to you. She was as practical as you were, “Will he make an honest woman out of you?”

You looked over at Thomas Shelby for a minute and nodded, “I think he will.”

“Good,” she said, “And then maybe you can make him honest too.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you laughed a little, “Tommy does what Tommy wants, and there’s no one who can change him.”

“I think you can...” your mother mused, “But I think he already is a good boy, deep down.”

*****

It was still early when the two of you left the small house again. Tommy smoked silently and you walked alongside him.

“So, how did I do?” he asked casually.

“Not bad!” you complimented, “Mum even called you a ‘good boy’.”

Tommy shot you a look like that was one of the most offensive things he’d heard in a long time.

You smiled fondly at him, “I think she’s right.”

“Good boy...” he grumbled, “I’ll fucking show you ‘good boy’ in a second!” But he winked when he met your eye.

“It’s cold...” you complained a little.

Tommy took your hand, “Are your hands cold?” And he put both his and your hand into the pocket on his long coat. It was the smallest of gestures but it warmed you right up.

You leaned into him and whispered, “Let’s not go back to the bridge?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to fuck under a bridge in the cold... do you want us to do it there forever? Always hasty?”

“Nope,” he said matter-of-factly, “When we get married, we’ll get our own house. And as my wife, I’ll fuck you on a satin pillow, every day, like a princess.”

“So, pretend we’re married already?”you ventured. Because honestly, sometimes it felt like you couldn’t wait another day to become Mrs. Shelby.

He locked eyes with you and pursed his lips a little. And you pressed on, “You’ve met my parents already. I mean, it’s practically done.”

Tommy stopped in the middle of the streets and thought about it for a while. Then he decided, “Alright. But I just need to make a small stop on the way.”

“What for?”

“To get a satin pillow!”

*****

Masterlist

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky #peaky blinders fandom #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders smut #theshelbyclan #meeting the parents #young tommy #cillian murphy

[sittingbesideyoulikeasilhouette]

Desolate

There is no heterosexual explanation for the many stolen glances between Dean and Cas over the course of 11 seasons, so this piece is me dipping my toes into Destiel territory. This is a season 15 fix-it. This is angsty with mentions of death and mourning. I'm thinking of having this be the set-up for an actual story but I want to see if people are interested!

Pairing: Dean x Cas

TW: death, loss, violence (Dean punches Sammy), grief

If you would like me to continue this please let me know in the comments!!

It happened 7 days after they’d defeated Chuck and Jack was assimilating into his new role. God. Capital G-O-D. His surrogate son was God and even though Dean knew that Jack would make a better god than Chuck ever had, he’d miss him. It seemed like that’s all he was going to be doing for the rest of his life, missing Jack.

Missing Cas.

He fucking hates himself for not saying it back. It would have been so easy; it’s been weighing heavy on his heart for years. I love you too. But what he’d said instead was “Don’t do this, Cas” and he will never be able to forgive himself. The first time he’d almost told Cas he loved him had been years ago, at the crypt, when Naomi was controlling Cas and he’d nearly killed Dean. Beaten, bloodied and on his knees, he’d almost said it. I love you, Cas. But instead, he said “I need you, Cas.” Both were true but Cas didn’t truly understand just how much Dean needed him. He can’t blame anyone but himself, honestly, because how in the hell would Cas know he loved him? He buried his feeling under cheap booze and women, and he always made it clear that he wasn’t gay. Which, truly, Dean didn’t think of himself as gay; sure, he thought some men were attractive, but he’d never had the desire to be with a man the way he did with Cas, he didn’t gravitate around them and let himself be consumed by their orbit. Cas had been it; he was the one that made Dean feel like maybe love didn’t have a gender or an expiration date, but he was too fucking stubborn to let himself have it. He was too scared to love and to be loved. And now it’s too late. He’s alone. Cas is dead.

Sam knew but he didn’t, tried to help you he couldn’t. Sam saw the bags under his eyes and the number of empty, scattered bottles in Dean’s room was excessive, even for him. Sam knew Cas was his best friend and he knew he was mourning him in a way he never had when he died before. His death seemed so final this team that Dean didn’t dare hope that he might be able to come back. Sam tried cheering him up, he really did, hey you want to go for a drive? We can listen to Metallica’s entire discography or hey Meat Man, how about some burgers? had been the last two attempts made by Sammy, one this morning and the other at lunch. Sounds like fun, maybe some other time okay, Sammy? and I’m not hungry, maybe tomorrow? Had been his replies and Sam smiled, nodded, and let him be. So, there he was, wallowing in his bed, when Sam walked in a couple of hours later.

“Hey man, I’m heading out to get some groceries. We’re making burgers tonight.”

Dean was tired, so bone-achingly tired, so he didn’t argue.

“Sounds good, Sammy.”

As Sam was turning to leave Dean called out.

“Don’t forget the beer. Grab 2 packs.”

“No, I’m not grabbing any beer,” Sam said, turning back to look at him.

“Sam, stop, we always drink beer. This is no different.” Dean said sitting up in bed and looking his brother in the eyes.

“This is entirely different, Dean. This situation could not be further from anything we have ever experienced before. You are drinking yourself to death, man. You need to stop.”

“You don’t know what I need, Sam. Go and get the damn groceries and some fucking beer!” Dean yelled and Sam looked hurt, but he wouldn’t budge. Dean got up and walked slowly over to him until he was standing right in front of him.

“Do it or I’ll go myself, Sam.”

“Dean, stop,” Sam pleaded, looking down at him with tears in his eyes, “I know you miss him bu-“ the rest of Sam’s sentence went unfinished as Dean’s right fist connected with Sam’s jaw and he fell backwards out into the hallway.

Dean looks down at his brother and knows he should apologize. Help him get up and apologize, he told himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything except tower over him. The rage felt warranted, and it made him feel alive for a second. Sam got to his feet and stared at his brother; there was no anger in his eyes and that made Dean want to punch him again.

“If punching me makes you feel better, then keep taking swings, Dean,” Sam’s voice didn’t waver, and it held no trace of resentment. Dean was sure Sam would let him beat him bloody if it meant he’d stop drinking and feel anything other than sadness over Cas. Dean considered it, he fucking considered continuing to beat the crap out his brother for no other reason other than he could, Sam told him he could, but there was a deafeningly loud boom and a subsequent clatter coming from the foyer than made them both immediately look down the hallway. Other than the noise, the red lights hadn’t come on and the alarm hadn’t gone off. What the hell was strong enough to break into the bunker without setting any of the warding off? Dean ran into his room, grabbed two guns and knives, and handed a pair to his brother. They walked side by side, eerily quiet, down to the foyer. Sam put a hand on Dean’s chest to stop him just before they turned the corner. Sam pointed to himself then signaled to the foyer in two quick motions. I’ll go first. Dean nodded and mouthed, I’ll cover you. As soon as Sam turned the corner, Dean saw a look of fear written all over his face, but he lowered his weapons anyway. What the hell was Sam looking at? Dean turned the corner behind Sam, gun pointed and knife ready, but the second he laid eyes on him, he felt like all the air had been punched out of his lungs.

“Cas?” Sam whispered and Dean dropped his weapons in a clatter at his feet.

There he was, just as Dean remembered him from a week ago. The only differences were that this Cas wasn’t scared, he wasn’t crying, or making deathbed love declarations. He was standing in front of him and Sam, wearing his trademark trench coat and a slight ever-confused look in his eyes. Dean knew that they should check, throw salt, holy water, silver, and a battery of other tests but what he did instead was shove Sam out of the way and head straight to Cas. Dean threw his arms around Cas’ neck and buried his hands in his hair. He felt Cas hug him back, almost instinctively, but instead of the usual arms around the torso, he placed his hands at Dean’s waist and pulled him closer. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, he could hear Sam sniffling from behind them and it suddenly made him realize he was crying.

“Shh I’m here, Dean, it’s okay. I’m here” he heard Cas whisper in his ear and felt his hands rubbing circles into the small of his back and he wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever.

After a few seconds Dean pulled back slightly, finally looking into Cas’ blues and for a second he thought of all the things hidden in the color – sapphires, the ocean after tempest, the sky after a rainy day, Dean’s favorite toy car that his mom and dad had gifted him on his third birthday and that he still had hidden away in his nightstand – he kept his arms around Cas’ neck but asked the question he knew was also on Sam’s mind.

“How?” he breathed, and Cas smiled. He removed his left hand from Dean’s waist and plunged it into one of the many pockets of his trench coat. He pulled out a small, neatly folded piece of paper. Fighting against the part of his brain urging him to keep holding onto Cas because the universe was cruel and he might disappear if he let go, Dean dropped his arms from Cas’ neck, took the piece of paper, and walked back over to Sam who was looking at him expectantly. Once he was next to him, he held the note in front of them and opened it:

I’m hands off starting now.

- Love, Jack.

#dean winchester x castiel #destiel #dean winchester fanfiction #castiel fanfiction #dean winchester smut #castiel smut #dean winchester fluff #castiel fluff #supernatural #supernatural fic #dean winchester fic #dean x castiel #sam winchester #Sam is the best little brother #jack kline

[synthetickitsune]

you write a lot for soohyuk, i was wondering if you’d consider writing for park joongil? his mom was awful in that past life and i can imagine her wanting to marry him off again and that relationship with his second wife would be so painful and sad and your guidelines say you are open to writing angst so if you do consider this thank you very much!

Anon I love you for this idea?? I wish my writing skills were better to do it justice but this concept is the perfect angst material?

Park Joonggil (Tomorrow) | Married again angst | 0.7k TW: mentions of suicide

Watching your husband, separated only by a few steps as the cold air makes its way inside the house through the open door, there’s a tight feeling crushing your chest.

Standing right under the edge of the roof, only a breath away from the falling rain, Joonggil’s just a husk of his past self. You’ve heard about the fate of his late wife - who hasn’t. So many see it as the best thing that could happen, his own mother included. You’ve always wondered if they’re all blind. Because as tragic as death inevitably is, the loss of life before one passes is all the more painful.

Blind but not stupid, nobody expected your marriage to be easy. On the contrary, however, it’s been smooth sailing so far. Perhaps you’re sharing the last speck of fortune that you were given.

Anyway, the marriage works well. You were never suited to be a wife, to carry and care for a child, the household, and so when Joonggil approached you on your wedding night and as respectfully as he could expressed that he won’t be able to give you a child, nor the love you’re worthy of, it came as a bittersweet relief.

You care for each other, sure, but that’s about the extent of it. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t developed any feelings at all for the man. They’re a luxury you can’t afford, a guilty pleasure to indulge in whenever Joonggil brings you a gift from the travels duty sends him on. When he hands the objects to you, the smile never reaches his eyes. You’ve wondered more times than you can count whether there was ever an unspoken this made me think of you behind the gesture, or if they are just to keep appearances. 

You’re not naive enough to hope.

A part of you, one set on hurting you, wishes you could’ve met his previous wife. Joonggil never speaks of her, which is understandable, and you don’t push him, you don’t ask. Nonetheless, you’re curious. How unique that person must’ve been to capture Joonggil’s heart so? How wonderful she must've been that her death left behind a hollow shell of a man? You've only stopped doubting love is real after you've witnessed his devotion. How painful it is that you're not the object of it.

Sometimes you believe he wishes he'd have died with her. Other times you wonder whether, maybe, if you died people would believe him cursed and finally let him be alone and mourn the loss of the love of his life as he wishes. Even if that was the case, however, you could never take your life. You know that his mother would only push for another wedding. And more importantly, you could never do that to him. 

He still gets woken up by nightmares. Even tonight.

You know he can feel your eyes on him and so you get up. He's not stupid. You know he knows. But you have to keep up the charade. You're careful not to dirty your clothes as you step outside.

"y/n, go back to bed. The night is cold," he speaks without turning towards you.

Your name. Not wife like he used to call her - an information bestowed upon you by his mother. Apparently all that she does and says has to have a victim. Something to torment.

"Come back inside, Joonggil," you ignore his advice, "You're leaving tomorrow and you need strength."

He sighs.

"I'll be just a minute," he finally looks at you, giving you a slow nod. You return it, and just like that, you do as he’s told you.

Polite, short conversations, the usual. Come morning, he'll be gone before you can wake up. It hurts. Night seems to be the only time you can talk freely, without curious eyes and ears spying you. The rejection stings more for that.

Maybe it's for the best that he's leaving.

You’ll dutifully play the role of a wife missing her husband and you’ll play it well. It's the only role you play without pretending.

#tomorrow #mbc tomorrow #park joong gil #lee soohyuk #lee soohyuk scenarios #lee soohyuk imagines #lee soohyuk x reader #drabble #angst #requested

[dynjas]

lifeweaver + "But…how could you love me?" "How could I not?" = 😍😍😍

Thank you for your request, my dear!

I hope I did good and I hope you like it!!

(⚠️ slightly Angst?)

(Pov: you're cuddling with Niran after a really tough mission (where you lost some soldiers))

____________________

You were lying in bed with Niran while he was caressing your whole body with kisses and slight touches.

When he came back to your face his loving smile turned to a worried frown.

"What's wrong, my love? Why are you crying? Am I hurting you?"

He was about to pull away from you to search for a wound he didn't see while he was healing you earlier, but you pulled him back in your arms.

"How...how can you still love me...? How can you still call me your love?! Because of my reclessness so many died and...-!"

Before you could rant on he shut you up with a soft kiss to your lips and wiped your tears with his thumb.

"Shhh, how could I not love you? How could I forget all the times you saved other lives - and mine too. We're only human, my sweet flower. We make mistakes. And because you're mourning these people shows that you're a good person."

He smiled slightly and kissed you again, then your eyes.

"We can make a shrine in the garden tomorrow, if you want?"

He never stopped caressing your cheek and his beautiful eyes showed so much love for you, even in times when you couldn't love yourself.

"Thank you, Niran. That would be nice. I love you."

You finally gave him a teary but loving smile.

He smiled back at you, kissed you again and said "I love you too." before pressing you to his chest to hold you as close as he could.

#omg I'm sorry I didn't mean to make this angsty #lifeweaver #lifeweaver x you #lifeweaver x reader #request #don't worry no one of the other characters died #writing prompt #I hope you like this #i'm actually really proud of this one

[lala3244]

When the protectors are gone Part five

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Got quite busy last week as one of my numerous sisters in law came to visit for the whole week but I finally finished part five!

WARNINGS: Consumption of alcohol, slight drunken state, talk of aggression, talk of scars, where I am from children are allowed in certain bars during the evening, of course they are not allowed to drink alcohol, violence and blood.

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I put my hands on my mouth and my eyes welled up. I couldn’t believe it. It followed me here. I needed a break from demons in general and there they were in MY realm. What a nightmare! Simeon came closer and put his hands on my wrists. “We are here to protect you and your family so no harm comes to you.” A sob came out and I turned to look at my family, all unaware of the threat on their life, all happy. I tried to control my tears. I didn't want to worry my family.

“You couldn’t have come tomorrow? Why today ? I literally arrived this morning. I didn’t even get to enjoy a proper day without anything reminding me of the Devildom.” My tears were falling freely now. Luke cried as well and wrapped his small arms around my waist. “I am so sorry ! We just want you safe!” I patted his head “I know Luke and I am glad you’re here but I needed a break. For that I need my family to replenish my energy.” He tightened his embrace and hid his face in my torso. Solomon and Simeon were looking at me with sad eyes and a tight smile, not knowing how to comfort me. I tried to change my mind so I pulled away from the little angel slightly “Luke? Have you ever been to the human realm before?” He shook his head “I did but just passed by.” I held his hand “Okay, well we are going to swim then!” We headed towards the spot I was on before they arrived and I introduced them briefly to my family. I looked at my sister who had a mischievous look on her face but I preferred to ignore her. I let the two men settle and I took the little angel with me to the water. I showed him how to deal with the waves coming at us, to jump in them and to avoid where the waves are breaking so he doesn’t drown by the force of them and the violent current. 

Only Simeon joined us as Solomon didn’t like the sea. We played in the water the three of us and for a moment I forgot why they were here. Luke started to get tired so Simeon brought him back to the towels to get dry. My sister went for a dip and stood next to me. Both of us turned towards the three friends. “So? Who are they?” I looked at her, unsure of what to say. “I guess they are my bodyguards?” She laughed “Even the kid?” I laughed too, realising my answer was stupid but I stuck to it. “Yes, even the kid” She nodded “They are extremely good looking. Anything happened with one of them?” I burst out laughing “As if Sol or Simeon would be interested in me!” She glared at me seriously. “Well why not?” I shook my head “They are way too attractive and smart to be interested in someone like me! You don’t realise where we work, how the other people are way more beautiful and intelligent and stronger than I am. They’ve got so many choices, I don’t even think I’ll be in the top 100.” She was still staring at me then looked towards them and showed them with her finger. They were looking at me then waved when they saw I was watching them. “I don’t know… I think they do like you…a lot actually” Again, I shook my head “Nah, it’s just pity and guilt and maybe friendship but believe me no one is interested in me.” I left her standing alone. What she was saying was nonsense. I had only one good looking man interested in me and I was lucky we got together. We were a couple for ten years when an illness took him and he died leaving me alone and heartbroken. It took me two years to mourn and being in the Devildom made me realise how lonely I have been and it was the worst just before the attack. 

I joined the three boys “So I have calmed down a bit and I can talk about it without crying… I think. Why were you three sent here?” They all looked at each other then Solomon started to talk “Lord Diavolo had all of us meeting at his castle. He explained the situation. Lucifer, Mammon and Satan volunteered to go after the demons hunting you, the others decided to stay and look after Amelia in case they are more demons who want to get rid of all humans in the Devildom then Diavolo asked if we could find you and protect you and your family. Luke couldn’t stay alone in the Purgatory Hall for an uncertain time so we brought him with us.” I nodded but didn’t say anything. I was thinking about everything he just told me. Before I started talking I could hear my mom calling me. So I left them and went to see her. She just wanted to take pictures of all of us. After the seance, I talked to my sister and two of my cousins. We decided to go out tonight. I was excited! It’s been a while since I went out like that so we left the beach to get ready for our evening. I told the boys my plan for later and they decided they would come too. Even Luke would be allowed in the bar we are going to first. I got back home and started to get ready. While in the shower I realised something: If Satan was after the demons, who was looking after my cat? I knew it was stupid to worry about that when literal demons were chasing me but I didn’t want anything to happen to my cat while I wasn’t there. I finished my shower and got dressed. I grabbed my D.D.D. and sent a text to Satan.

Me: Hey Satan! I know you have other problems but with you gone, who is looking after my cat? Please, don’t be mad at me for worrying about it. I just can’t bear the thought of losing him. And by the way, Thank you. 

I sent it and put some makeup on. I had dinner with my parents and my sister picked me up. We arrived at the bar, we were the first there so we ordered our drinks and we sat at a large table. We talked while the others arrived shortly after. We stayed there for a couple of hours then the bar closed but we decided to go to a club nearby. Simeon took Luke back to the hotel they were staying at as he was too young to come with us. He was quite upset with us but left anyway. My cousins left us as well, they had to work in the morning. We arrived at the club and ordered more drinks. I started to feel tipsy but in such a good mood I didn’t care. We sat in a corner to drink but then a song was playing and I loved it so I stood up and went on the dancefloor. Solomon joined me, at first he was a few inches away from me but as more people went on the dancefloor, he got closer to me. I have always found Solomon attractive but a bit shady and with the alcohol (not) helping I wrapped my arms around his neck then I started to dance sensually as I could (which wasn’t). I could hear him chuckle but he put his hands on my waist and guided me closer. He leaned his forehead against mine and locked his eyes with my own. We danced for a few songs when my sister came over telling me she wanted to leave and as she picked me up she had to give me a lift back. I nodded and looked at the man who still had his arms wrapped around me. “You can stay with us. We share a room with Simeon and Luke, you can sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the sofa.” I smiled and turned to my sister. “Yeah, I’ll stay with Sol.” She looked at the two of us with a smirk and I rolled my eyes. 

I went to get another drink for Sol and me. We sat on a couch, I put my legs on his and he would caress my thighs while we talked and flirted. We stayed there as long as it took us to drink our beverages. When we finished our drinks, we left the club and headed towards the hotel. We took the scenery route and walked on the beach. The fresh air sobered me up a bit and I started to feel embarrassed about my behaviour with the sorcerer but he didn’t seem to care as he put his arm around my shoulders and hugged me on his side. I leaned my head on his chest and we walked silently on the sand. We arrived at the hotel and went straight up to the room but before we entered it, Solomon stopped and didn’t move. I looked at him, confused. He faced me and he kissed me. It took me by surprise and I froze for a second but then I cupped his cheeks and I leaned into the kiss. I pulled away first and smiled at him. “We better get inside”. He giggled and nodded then opened the door. He approached me and whispered “Do you need a T-shirt to sleep in?” I nodded, he went to grab one of his T-shirt and he gave it to me. I smiled as a thank you and asked where the bathroom was. He opened the door for me and let me enter. “Do you need help getting undressed?” I faced him and he was watching me intensely with a smirk on his face. I came closer to him and pushed him back off the bathroom. “No, thanks I can handle it from here.” 

I left the bathroom and saw that the sorcerer wasn’t on the couch. I frowned and went to what I assumed was the bedroom. The room was lit by a small night light next to Solomon and I saw two queen size beds. On the left one I could see Simeon and Luke sleeping in it and on the right one, Solomon propped up some pillows looking at me. I was still frowning and went to bed. I leaned closer to him and whispered as quietly as possible. “What are you doing? I thought you were going to sleep on the sofa?” He smiled, proud of himself “I know, I lied.” I sighed as I said he was shady but I let it go, I was starting to feel sleepy. I went under the duvet and turned my back to him. He did the same and then he got closer to me. He wrapped his arms around my body and tightened his grip. “Good night” He kissed me on the top of my head and squeezed me. I chuckled “Good night Sol.” I moved my hand and squeezed his arm. We fell asleep seconds after that. 

I was woken up by Luke's high pitched voice as he noticed me in the bed still enveloped by Solomon’s body. Apparently, we haven’t moved a hair since we fell asleep a few hours ago. I tried to move but the sorcerer, who was still asleep, even with all the noises from the angel, didn’t want me to leave his embrace. I tried to turn around so I could face him and his grip loosened a bit. I put my hands on his ribs and tickled him to see if he would wake up. He groaned and his grip tightened so much that I couldn’t move nor I could breath. I tried to wriggle out of his embrace while calling his name. Finally, he opened his eyes and he looked down at me with a smirk on his face. “I got you now and I am not letting you go.” I laughed and shook my head. “Please, Sol. Luke is freaking out at the situation and I need to drink some water." He sighed and finally let me go. I stood up and the two angels were watching our interaction, Luke looked freak out and Simeon had an unreadable expression as he looked at me. I smiled at them embarrassed and ran to the bathroom. I had left my clothes neatly folded on a stool inside the bathroom. While I changed, I could hear them whispering behind the door. I tried to eavesdrop but couldn’t hear a thing so I opened the door. The three of them stared at me and my phone suddenly rang. I excused myself and grabbed it to answer it. It was my mom. She was worried as I wasn’t home and told her where I was. She proposed to pick me up and to go and visit my aunt. I turned to the angels and the sorcerer to tell them that my mom was picking me up. They nodded their agreement and Luke stepped forward “Let’s go have breakfast! You must be hungry.” I smiled at the happy child and we all left for the breakfast room. I could feel Simeon’s gaze on me the whole time we ate and felt uncomfortable as if he was judging me for something. Did he know that Solomon and I kissed ? But why would he be upset about that? I let go of my thoughts, as if an angel would be upset about something so trivial. 

Before I left, Simeon said he had received some updates from Lucifer. The traitors are a couple of days away from the human world but they were good at hiding their tracks. They were still ahead of the three Avatars but they should catch up to them before they catch me. I nodded, still scared but placing my trust in them as I didn’t have a choice anyway. 

After the visit to my aunt’s house, we came back home. I had left my D.D.D in my room and I unlocked it. There was a notification, a text message with one word from Satan.

Satan: Beel

I sighed, relieved. I knew I could trust him with my cat. 

Me: Thanks a lot Satan. Be careful out there. I still owe you a favour.

As last night finally got to me, I went to bed early. The next two days, we spent it at the beach picnicking for lunch and dinner. The three boys joined us both days and they got on well with my family. We haven’t heard from Lucifer or any of the brothers. We didn’t try to contact them as we thought we might distract them if we did. I managed to relax in those couple of days which was nice. On the second day, my sister finally asked the question “What happened to you? How did you get those scars?” I tried to cover my scars as much as I could but some of them were still showing and I didn’t want them to prevent me from enjoying those beach days. Actually, I was slowly starting to be proud of them. I survived a horrible attack and only had some scars then it made me think I needed to practise some magic and I need to talk to Solomon about it. “Yes, someone attacked me and tortured me. I… I am not ready to talk about it.” I lowered my head so I could hide the tears that were starting to well up. I still hadn’t come over it apparently. I blinked my tears away and wiped them with my hand. She put a comforting hand on my shoulder and squeezed. I smiled tightly at her. “Let’s go out again tonight! Just the two of us!” I giggled “Yeah, sure if you want.” 

After the day at the beach, we came back home. Again, I got ready for the night out with my lovely sister. My mother gave us a lift to the pub and we would take a taxi home. We sat at the bar and were talking for a few hours when Solomon, Simeon and Luke arrived, looking worried. Luke sat next to my sis’ to distract her while the angel and the sorcerer took me to the side. “They’ve arrived in the realm. They are a few hours away.” I stared at them “But Lucifer and the other two are not far behind, right?” They looked at each other but didn’t say anything. “They will catch them before they reach me, right?” The alcohol flowing in my veins kept me, weirdly enough, from falling apart. I decided then I couldn’t be just a lamb waiting for slaughter. I would need to do something when I came back to the Devildom. When I made that decision in my slightly drunken state they still hadn’t spoken yet. Finally, Simeon spoke. “You should come with us now.” I shook my head “Nah, I’m still staying out. You said they are a few hours away from here? Then I still have time to enjoy myself and come what may.” They looked at me, shocked. I guessed they weren’t expecting me to react like that. I smiled at them and went back to Luke and my sister. The other two joined us and we chatted away. Luke started to fall asleep on my sister’s shoulder. Simeon looked at the young angel with soft eyes and a tender smile then looked at Solomon. “Can you, this time, look after Luke? I will stay with those two lovely people.” I smiled at the compliment. Solomon’s gaze darkened but he nodded and he grabbed Luke gently then they left. I looked at the time and realised that quite a few hours had gone by quickly. I told my sister to go, that I will stay with the angel but she needed to go home. She looked at me strangely but agreed. We called a taxi, waited for it then she left. With Simeon, we went to another bar. 

We talked for a couple of hours then we decided it was time to leave. I stood up a bit wobbly on my legs. The angel held his arm out so I could stand and walk thanks to him. We walked for a few hundred metres when he stopped. I turned my head and was about to talk but he put his finger on his mouth to shush me. I gasped but stopped. We walked slowly around the corner and there we saw them. The group of demons were a hundred metres away from us. I recognised them. They were invited to the birthday party Diavolo threw for me. I talked to them and thanked them for their presents. I started to shake, not from fear but from anger. The three brothers were also there approaching them slowly. They were all in their demon’s forms. I was about to walk towards them when Simeon grabbed me and put his hand on my mouth. “Be quiet. Let Lucifer, Satan and Mammon handle it. If they notice you, they’ll try to protect you and that could endanger them.” I nodded slowly but didn’t move otherwise as I was watching them. I knew demons were physically strong but it was even more than I could imagine. Too many things were happening at once. Lucifer tearing limbs of a demon apart , blood flying everywhere as if he was plucking a flower, while keeping him alive. Mammon broke the legs of another as if they were only twigs so he couldn’t run away. Satan used some spells to paralyse two of them. It was a carnage and still I couldn’t prevent myself from watching. I would have nightmares from the weeks to come. When all of them were out of harm, a portal opened and Barbatos arrived and helped the three Lords carry the demons inside the portal then they all left.

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THE END

Tag: @shycreatorsandwich (you so nicely asked me :))

I hope you are all doing well and taking care of yourself.

Lots of love to everyone who needs it

NEXT

#obey me #obey me fandom #obey me mammon #obey me fanfic #obey me simeon #obey me swd #obey me satan #obey me solomon #obey me luke #obey me barbatos #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #omswd #obey me mc #can't help but to live vicariously through this story #I secretly really need people to like my story #obey me x reader

[wonderneverlandsystem]

RWBY VOLUME 9 SPOILERS | RANT(?)

A lot of ppl r talking about the next episode or the one after having a Punderstorm for Neo & Ruby, which I think is just a guarantee at this point. But how a lot of people want it to go is very much not enough. Like yes, I think the Punderstorm will be to get the Roman situation figured out. But once they return to whatever area they're in before getting sent into the storm, THEY NEED TO HAVE A CONVERSATION. They still have their scrolls, as shown by Ruby, in one of the earlier chapters, so they can communicate through that.

So many people think Neo is irredeemable and also that she might die by the end of the volume. She might die at the end (though Rooster Teeth has already fucked themselves over enough I don't think that's a smart move), but she is definitely not irredeemable, and her Ruby are very much mirrors in many ways. I saw a lot of theories since Volume 8 and over the 2 year break of ppl like Penny (until she died), or Jaune would help Neo get better and be her friend. But NOT ONE PERSON said Ruby, too blinded by the fact that Neo is upset with them and completely ignoring the fact that that will absolutely get resolved at some point.

They both lost EVERYTHING at The Fall of Beacon. Neo lost Roman, her One Thing, her WHOLE LIFE, gone in an instant, and she didn't even find out until after the fact because she got swept off by the wind because of Ruby hitting the button on her parasol.

Ruby lost her childhood. She was too young when Summer left and died for that to really have the same effect, though I will touch on this later. She was 15 when in one night her school, her kingdom, her home, got destroyed. She watched her best friend, who she loved (I'm not gonna argue with ppl today on whether or not it was romantic or platonic. That's not the point of this particular post), die. She literally saw Penny's torn apart corpse and barely even had time to cry before having to fight for her life and the lives of everyone around her. Then she saw her unconscious sister, WITH HER ARM CUT OFF, laying on the ground next to their other teammate who had been stabbed and is crying while apologizing to Yang's unconscious body. AND THEN SHE GOES TO GET PYRRHA AND WATCHES HER DIE!

She doesn't even get to process anything until waking up days later, where she is asked a bunch of questions and asked to relive everything right after waking up. Then her sister, who is a mother to her, pushes her away after telling them that one of their friends ran away, while the other was forced to leave by her abusive "father." Yang can't even say I love you back to Ruby. Then she leaves on a two year trip that ends up leaving her with LITERALLY the weight of all of Remnant on her shoulders, millions if not billions of lives, and she's been told that supposedly, THERE'S NO WAY TO ACTUALLY WIN. SHE IS 17 FOR FUCKS SAKE.

....collecting myself. *breathes*

Okay.

What I need to happen. Either in tomorrow's or next week's episode. (This can happen in the center platform of the Punderstorm or when they get back from it. Either is fine, though I think it would be nice for it to be the former) Once Ruby figures out why Neo hates her, Neo finds out the truth, and that gets resolved. I really want Neo/Trivia and Ruby to just sit. Just sit and fucking breathe. To cry, to scream, to get out everything. I want them to know that the other understands. Neo/Trivia can finally grieve her childhood and especially Roman, and Ruby can do the same. She hasn't had even one moment where she's been allowed to be actually vulnerable and healthily express her feelings and grief about Penny. She should be allowed to grieve and mourn. And they should both be there for each other, over the ill-conceived (i think thats the right word) differences, away from anyone that may interrupt them (especially if this happens on the center platform of their Punderstorm), just a moment of peace and silence. End of Chapter 8, cliffhanger.

Chapter 9. Eventually, the Punderstorm will end/WBY, and Jaune will find them, in which case they either catch up and see them sitting together and being at rest (something they haven't seen from Neo ever and from Ruby in a LONG time) and they, albeit cautiously, figure out what's going on, OR they (especially Yang and Weiss) go head first and attack Neo, causing Ruby to get up and stand in the way to explain everything, and of course apoligize (Yang, Jaune, and them better apoligize too though or else-).

Much like how Yang didn't really trust Emerald right away, I don't think they're gonna immediately drop all walls, and everything will be hunky dorey with Neo/Trivia. But I think that they will sorta quietly (not just because she can't speak-) follow along and try to help them get out, I don't think she'd sacrifice herself to the tree (if that does end up being a thing), she still wants to kill Cinder. If she does sacrifice herself to the tree so they can get back, I think there'd be a little scene with her and Ruby where she promises Neo/Trivia that they'll take down Cinder and with a death grip hug followed by tears, tells her that her sacrifice won't be in vain. Ruby makes a promise to a scared girl that she sees herself in so much as a trade. She gave away her Emblem, which symbolized Summer's promise to come back, Summer didn't want Ruby to get wrapped up in this. That's why she left. And her sacrifice was in vain. And Ruby won't let that happen again.

Also. If any of you fucks. Think to comment/reblog this with some stupid shit (This is not a post that is asking for criticism or opinions, nor a place for you to call me delusional because "there isn't enough time for all that" or "oh Ruby is probably just gonna lose it and attack Neo without remorae" or whatever the fuck). I will bury you alongside Pyrrha & Penny.

Maybe I am delusional, but then again, maybe I'm not, I don't care, I just needed to get this out. If for nothing else, then to make you guys think and to tire myself out from typing.

With exhaustion, Jace

#rwby ruby rose #rwby #rwby neo #rwby spoilers #rwby9 spoilers #rwby vol9

[aajjks]

reward!jungkook

“she’s dead, jungkook” alina says. “why did it take her death for you to realize how much you love her? i…i can’t believe you right now”

“that’s not love, alina. that’s guilt. you never fucking loved her and i could respect that if you weren’t so fucking stupid. how callous can you be to break someone’s heart over and over willingly?? you just shamelessly admitted that you’re in love with that psycho bitch who ruined your marriage. i can’t even LOOK at you right now. how could you do this, man? how could you?”

both alina and eunwoo are in disbelief at their friend. they never knew jungkook to be like this and in alina’s mind, this ‘y/n-girl’ is to blame. she used him to the very end despite being well-aware of his wife. jungkook knew she was forbidden fruit but he took a bite anyways and became a addicted.

y/n played her part so well. even now, she’s calling jungkook’s phone, leaving voicemails, and text messages from all kinds of numbers begging for him to come back so she can use him all over again. even though eunwoo doesn’t think jungkook loved syelle, alina does. he cries like he lost the someone precious to him. he holds her wedding ring so tight like it’ll disappear at any moment or maybe it’ll bring her back. but at the end of the day, they are still jungkook’s friends no matter how bad he fucked up.

tomorrow comes rather quickly and there’s no sun in the sky. even the world mourns the loss of syelle as rain begins to fall from the sky before welcoming in an additional angel above.

eunwoo and alina head to jungkook’s place to pick him up and the tension, although thick, is sad. eunwoo refrains from speaking to jungkook but alina tries to cheer him up despite her disappointment in him. they still love their friend but after knowing the truth, it’s hard to view their kookie the same way they used to.

as they walk inside the church, all three are given an obituary with syelle’s freckled smile on the front.

sunrise june 28, 2001 — sunset august 16 2025

the service was sad. so many people cried for syelle. hoseok, her coworkers, and even her parents. even jungkook couldn’t hold it together as people stood up to speak about what syelle was like at her job and even as a friend.

“ehem” begins sung-woo. “i was contemplating coming up here because…because this, right here? this is a parent’s worst nightmare. i never thought in a million years i would be burying my child”

“from a young age syelle wanted to be a superhero and she achieved that by becoming a nurse. she told me “i’m gonna build up my résumé then go back for my doctorate’s, dad” and i said “okay” because as a father, you want to support your children’s dreams. unfortunately, she won’t get to achieve her dream because here she is….syelle didn’t die from a broken heart. she died because she loved too hard. she loved people more than she loved herself. she would do anything for the people she loved and i blame myself for that because maybe i didn’t love her enough. i don’t know…but i stand here encouraging, begging those who are struggling to love themselves, please, i beg of you, love yourself. love yourself more. respect those you love. honor those you love and if you find yourself in an uncomfortable situation then you need to leave. and i hope you learned YOUR lesson because i know syelle did. thank you”

Tears keep falling. He’s not even running out of tears. He knows this is just a start.

As he hears his father-in-law’s speech, and his broken voice, it makes Jungkook want to slap himself, he is sitting right next to eunwoo who is next to his wife, and all of the people present in the church are crying.

The heaven really gained another angel today, but jungkook lost his- The atmosphere is so somber, jungkook is so depressed because he couldn’t get any sleep last night. His heart hurts.

His head hurts.

He keeps on staring at the beautiful picture of Syelle. She was so beautiful and he failed to see it. And she was so fucking young. he ruined her without any guilt so now what is the point of him crying like a little bitch?

“I think it’s your turn..” eunwoo scoffs at Jungkook, but yes, he really wanted to give a speech in her honor, Jungkook gets up and fixes his coat- his tie is a little little messy because she always used to do it for him but- now she’s gone.

Her wedding ring is still in his pocket so he feels a little little bit closer to her.

It’s time for the eulogy. Jungkook feels the weight of peoples eyes on him. A lot of people are not aware why she died, but Hoseok and his father-in-law know the reason really well so he can feel the guilt creeping up again and again, as he feels their glares.

Jungkook sighs and sniffles.

He stands with a microphone in his hand- he’s so grateful to his parents in law that they allowed him to give a eulogy, he doesn’t deserve to, but he wants to.

“I-I… can’t believe that she’s gone..” his voice breaks, “Syelle was nothing less than an angel and I guess the heaven was so eager to have her…” oh, he knows that’s not true

“ my wife was the best wife in the world… but.. I wasn’t the greatest husband to her. Syelle deserved someone who could’ve loved her just like the way she deserved to be… as I was hearing from her coworkers and friends about her kindness. I wasn’t surprised because…” he inhales, the bile in his throat is rising.

“she was the most kindest woman I’ve ever met in my life.. and she had the most contagious gorgeous smile.. I wish I could see it for one last time but that’s impossible..” when he starts to cry the people in the church also have tears in their eyes.

“I was so blessed to call her my wife… she was a perfect woman for me, but I failed to realize that- maybe because God knew that I wasn’t the man for her… I never deserved her.” Alina cries softly, Eunwoo also has unshed tears in his eyes.

Sung-woo is emotional.. “ but God knows- my heart is so heavy right now-it has been ever since I found out about… I want to hug her for the last time..” he whimpers, crying.

“Syelle I love you and I’m so sorry I was too late to realize that… I really want to hug you for the last time.”

But he knows he will never be able to hug her again.

#ask: reward!jungkook #:( #please listen to Syelles dads words it’s so important to love yourself

[eternal-love-song]

A Promise For Those Left Behind

In the aftermath of the first execution, Shuichi stumbles upon Kokichi and offers him comfort.

[Kokichi/Shuichi] [Hurt/Comfort] Written for the @drv3giftexchange

The trial room was quiet in the wake of the execution. There was a shadow hanging over everyone's head and a haunting melody that no one could escape. Half the people in the room were sad, the other half were divided between being angry and being numb. Kokichi counted himself with the half of the room that was numb, but only because he didn't know how to process what was actually going through him. 

It was sad, what happened to Kaede. He could admit that. It was sad that Kaede had been driven to kill, sad that she'd thought she had no other choice, sad that she was gone. It wasn't Kaede that had his aching though, it was Rantaro.

Rantaro was the person that he had tentatively become friends with. While Kaede was trying to push everyone forward, he and Rataro were whispering well meaning secrets in the dark. They both had too many shadows to openly trust each other, but they understood each other and they were willing to work together. Because of Kaede though, he would never get that chance. Hr didn't think there was anyone else in the trial room that was thinking about the victim and not the murderer though. Not a single person that looked at Kaede's still swinging corpse and looked down to remember her hands were coated in blood.

Kokichi couldn't do it. He couldn't stay in this room full of people that were mourning for the wrong person. Kaede's death was sad, but Rantar's was sadder, because he hadn't killed anyone while trying to save them.

He left the trial room as soon as he was able and he went to the library. He was only a little surprised to find that nothing was there. No body. No blood. No trace of the person that they had all lost. Would it be like this every time if more people died? More mourns for murderers and more forgotten victims? Would he keep searching for traces of those left behind only to come up empty?

Kokichi crouched down to the floor, beside where he knew Rantaro's body to be, wrapping his arms around himself and just... stared. Letting the despair wash over his heart. Letting the helpless get the better of him for just a little while. He'd need to put on a happy face tomorrow, to help pick up a little of the slack that Kaede and Rantaro were leaving behind. He'd need to smile if he was going to help save everyone and he'd need to cry now if he wanted to smile later.

It was maybe an hour later when he heard the door to the library open. Kokichi didn't move, wondering if he stayed quiet and still if that would be enough to dissuade whoever had stumbled upon him. 

No such luck as Shuichi jumped when seeing Kokichi crouched on the ground, trying to pull his hat lower despite Kokichi being on the ground and able to see his entire face because of it. "Sorry, I... didn't mean to interrupt you."

"What are you doing here?" Kokichi asked. It was too late in too long of a day for Kokichi to pretend for Shuichi of all people. 

"I don't know," Shuichi admitted softly. "I thought I could... figure out what she was thinking, maybe. Why she didn't..."

"Why she didn't trust you enough?" Kokichi asked with a hollow laugh. "Yeah, join the club."

"You..."

"We all just met," Kokichi said, raising his voice to talk over Shuichi. The detective made it easy by going quiet as soon as Kokichi spoke. It was no wonder he had been taken advantage of by a murderer. He was too soft. Too giving. "It's no wonder they didn't trust us when we were still practically strangers, right?"

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe it would have taken someone soft like Shuichi to get Rantaro to open up and someone hard like Kokichi to keep Kaede from killing. He laughed again, soft and sad, until there were tears in the corners of his eyes but he still couldn't stop.

"Are you... okay?" Shuichi questioned.

Kokichi only laughed harder. Cried harder. This was all so stupid. It was all too much. Someone was dead. Actually dead! And there would be more... Kokichi had had hope before, but now... if she could kill then any of them could.

"What do you think?" Kokichi snapped. "Do I look like I'm..."

Shuichi hesitated, shuffling in place a few moments indecisively. After a moment though, he leaned down at Kokichi's side and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I... I'm sorry, Kokichi. I... I didn't know Rantaro very well, but he seemed like a good guy." Then he looked away, staring at the floor as if Rantaro's body was still there. As if he could still see all the intricate details of the outline. And maybe he could. Kokichi knew that when he looked at the floor, he could still see the blood splatter.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't... save him." Shuichi said softly. "That I couldn't stop her."

Kokichi wanted to lash out at him. To let Shuichi take the blame and unleash all his pent up frustration on him. That wouldn't be fair or satisfying though. Not when they were practically the same.

"It's not your fault," Kokichi told him. "It's... no one's fault. Or everyone's. It's Monokuma's fault. This whole thing is... disgusting."

Shuichi made a face that looked like several expressions all rolled into one, as if he wasn't sure what emotion he wanted to display. Kokichi could relate to the feeling, at least. 

"Yeah... thanks."

"I..." Shuichi took a deep breath before starting again. "I know that I failed everyone this time. I know that... you may not believe in a detective like me, that couldn't even stop a murderer when she was right beside me. But... but I promise, I'll do better next time. I'll get better or be faster. I'll..." He didn't finish the statement, didn't promise that another murder could never happen or that he would stop the killing game. Someone else might have called him out on it, accusing him of being unreliable, but Kokichi was relieved. The last people had made such promises, had such goals, had both died on him. Kokichi didn't want that for Shuichi. He didn't want the only person that could understand him in this moment to become a murderer... or dead.

Kokichi reached up to put his hand on Shuichi's where it still rested on his shoulder. Shuichi jumped, as if he'd forgotten the comforting gesture and the look on his face made Kokichi smile the slightest bit. "Thanks, Shuichi."

The smile that came to Shuichi's face next was much more natural and relaxed. Kokichi liked it. He tried to meet it with one of his own. He wasn't sure it worked but Shuichi squeezed his shoulder all the same and they stayed together for a while longer in companionable silence. 

#ELS Writing #Saiouma #Kokichi Ouma #Shuichi Saihara #Danganronpa V3 #genre: hurt/comfort #DR3giftexchange

[dingoat]

WORST BOY: 2, 3, 4, 10, 16, 17, 30, 36, 40, 52, 59, 68 8), 77, 79, 82, 86, 89, 102, 103, 109, 110, 118, 120, 123, 127, 133, 134, 136, 139, 141, 154, 155, 156, 159

WORST BOY WORST BOY ok wow have a BAZILLION answers for this TERRIBLE MAN ahahahaha

CHARACTER ASKS for the PROFOUNDLY intolerable, PRIME antagonist, WATCHER FIVE.

2. What would history remember your character for?

OMG! I mean this really depends on how his story winds up playing out, doesn’t it? I feel like right now he’s at such a potential tipping point and I literally don’t know which way he’s going to fall hahaha. If he were to die tomorrow, I’m sure history would look kindly back on the tragic, beloved figure of his public persona, but Intel’s archives would have to be ripped open to connect it to the diabolical bastard behind it. Of course, what he would like to be remembered as is the man who re-shaped the Empire, except he’s started to realise that he might not actually live long enough to win at everything he sets his mind to. How terrible.

3. Does your character prefer to work in silence or with noise and of what kind?

Five DEFINITELY enjoys silence. Depending on the work, he might carefully select some classical music to stimulate his mind, but when he truly needs to focus and concentrate he finds any external noise utterly intolerable.

4. Has your character ever been handcuffed or tied up?

Look. He’s worked as a field agent and absolutely loves cover identities and fake personas. And he is very, very open minded and experimental in various parts of his life. You do the math.

10. Would your character give up the chance to come back to life as a god so that someone else could be saved?

There is exactly one (1) person he’s realised he would give up everything for.

16. How does the way your character present themselves in public differ from how they are in private?

Five will present himself a thousand different ways depending on his audience, his company, his current task at hand or obsession. He is a thousand different people, and while there is exactly one (1) person who is privy to most of them, including the version of himself that is slowly, carefully, willing to admit a certain amount of self doubt and uncertainty, even that one (1) person isn’t allowed to see the version of Five that remembers who he was as a boy, and who grieves.

17. How petty is your character?

INTENSELY. And he takes great joy in it, most of the time. One does not make any sort of slight against Watcher Five or Lord Highbridge without experiencing some sort of backlash, even if it's half a decade in coming.

30. How independent was your character as a teen?

Supremely. He would have been about 13 or 14 when he completely wrote off his family and started focusing entirely on himself, and only ever got worse. Dude moved off planet to work his way to success as soon as he was able, and then the moment he was successful enough he turned around and booted his family off their estate and took the whole thing over.

36. Would your character prefer to sit around and chill or be up and moving and doing something?

Five definitely appreciates and indulges in downtime, he has some very strong hedonistic leanings, but he also has a very active mind and constantly pressures himself with the notion that his work is not yet done. If he doesn’t spend some time working toward long-term goals, honing his skills, or impressing other people, then he feels the day is wasted.

40. If a loved one died, how long would they stay in mourning?

…however old he is, minus eleven years, and counting.

52. Would your character prefer to have history know the truth or have many different versions of their life?

Five’s ghost would be utterly aghast if any single being knew the entire truth of every aspect of his life. There could be no greater failing.

59. What kinds of things does your character use as paperweights?

Stones 8)

(Also probably like. Trophies and stuff. I’m sure he has so many from all walks of life and just. Uses them everywhere in utterly disregarding ways.)

68. Are any of your characters intimidatingly beautiful?

Omfg hahaha I DUNNO YOU TELL ME

I think Five was more designed as ‘approachably charming’ when he really turns it on, though. He aims for Perfect Gentleman, not Galadriel. (Ask him his opinion of 13 though…)

77. Have any of your characters had to kill a friend?

Hahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaa well you see for that to be the case he would need to consider more than one (1) person as a ‘friend’.

He's growing, though, very slowly. Perhaps this is a plot point that he can agonise over in the future >.>

79. What is a humanizing thing about a villain/antagonist/generally horrible person character that you have?

As cliche as it is, the entirety of why-is-he-like-that stems from a very old, very poorly handled tragedy, and the fact that he swore to himself that he would never allow himself to feel that level of grief again. Psych, he’s never actually managed to rid himself of it, nor the fact that he actually quite desperately wants to feel that level of love (YEAH, I SAID IT) and connection in his life again.

82. Describe your character’s handwriting.

Textbook perfect cursive. Elegant, sharp, consistently clear.

86. Is your character’s fear reaction to fight, flight, or freeze?

Fight, definitely. He is way, way too proud to face fear with anything other than bloody-minded rage and violence toward whatever it was that had the gall to make him feel fearful in the first place.

89. Would your character throw themselves in harms way to protect a loved one?

Yes, but he’d never use the term ‘loved one’. Also, he’d throw himself in harm’s way to protect a lawn ornament that he was particularly fond of so there’s that.

102. What is your character’s greatest source of guilt?

We don’t talk about the flagpole incident.

103. How well does your character deal with their anger?

Oh Five does the whole spectrum between quiet, calculated fury, all soft spoken and polite and plotting a revenge that the source will never see coming, as well as absolute frothing at the mouth, unbridled, hollering wild eyed stabby-time rage.

109. Would your character blackmail a god?

Five calls that an average Friday night 8)

110. What color is associated with your character?

I mean, he had a very distinct ‘green’ phase, but now it’s all about the royal purple and gold.

118. Have any of your characters come from a position of privilege that they’ve never had to examine?

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA

aka ‘how to describe Five in one sentence or less’

120. Do any of your characters have PTSD?

Mmmmmm there’s a handful of Ciphers and one quasi-Sith who saw him rambling about the ghost of an elderly narglatch who might argue that yes, yes Five definitely has something going on there.

123. Did any of you characters have nannies or governesses growing up?

I’ve never really considered it, but I don’t actually think so? He might have been a little more well-adjusted if somebody had actually been paid to see to more of his well being as a kid.

127. Has anyone ever stolen your character’s identity or impersonated them?

Oh what a FUN IDEA. I’m sure he’s had some stupid social holo-media network impersonators here and there? I’m sure HE’S done plenty of impersonations in his life but I don’t know that there’s ever been a serious instance of it going the other way. Yet. 8)

133. Have any of your characters ever been caught in a fire or explosion?

Ahaha yet another ‘haven’t explicitly written but what a fun idea’ question! I haven’t detailed a lot of what Five got up to early in his career but it’s hard to imagine that there wasn’t at least one instance of an explosive going off at an inopportune moment….

134. Has your character ever been alone in a hostile environment and been forced to travel a long way to reach a safety that wasn’t for sure?

Nope. This is not the sort of soul-searching hardship Five has ever yet had to face. He’s always been very very good about assuring his own safety and comfort and means of getting to and from places with minimal complications. Side effect of being so utterly driven to be in complete control of every task he is set upon.

136. Has your character ever been forced to deal with the ‘I want to speak to your manager” kind of person?

Almost certainly, and probably always while under some cover identity. And he would smile, and be utterly gracious, and probably would actually be the manager sometimes, and would always find some way to enact some sort of petty (or horrifyingly gratuitous) revenge upon the intolerable individual.

139. Has your character ever survived a fatal wound?

Losing his arm was ridiculously traumatic and, in the right circumstance may well have been fatal, but he was treated pretty swiftly so risk of actual death was negated fairly soon after the fact.

141. Who has a weapon collection?

Hahaha THIS GUY for sure. Five likes nice things, shiny things, expensive things, and is very fond of both blasters and knives. I’m sure he has quite a few prize pieces in his collection, and his hunting rifle is his pride and joy… though I’m pretty sure his favourite weapon is the Galaxy’s Deadliest Hawkbat.

154: How much does your character care about other people respecting their authority?

WITH EVERY FIBRE OF HIS BEING

Thirteen is allowed a little disrespect. As a treat.

155: Does your character cut and/or color their hair for any specific reason?

He tends to keep his hair at a consistent length, but will vary the style and colour dramatically depending on the persona he’s putting on. That said, the way he normally wears his hair (‘normally’ being ‘while at work in an Intel office’) is also how he styles it as his main public persona.

156: Were/Are any of your characters under less pressure and fewer expectations than their siblings?

I’d say they were all under pretty well the same amount of pressure, and it would have been a very very stupid amount for all of them. And when Five’s parents finally backed off from him, he well and truly started weighing it down upon himself.

159: Does your character have any tattoos? And are any of them symbolic or significant?

No tattoos, no piercings, and he would tell you it’s because his peak physical form needs no such embellishment. His new cybernetic is quite elegantly decorated and with a very specific theme in mind, but he’s compartmentalised that in a way that makes him see it as fancy, expensive armour rather than an actual part of his body. He’s still in some pretty solid denial there but at least he’s moved up a step from having to keep it gloved at all times.

#character asks #ask meme #five asks #wow omg hahaha so many #I HOPE U ENJOY THIS #I wonder if there's anything even remotely surprising in there #ahahaha #watcher five #WORST BOY

[canonical-transformation]

Continued from previous ask:

YF/YL/ZL coming home [post Archon interlude]

Three separate stories, each showing the characters in qn returning to the 'real world' after the Hidden Peril / Fantastic Compass questline.

The first two I only have the broad strokes of: Yanfei has dinner with Itto and Shinobu, tries to process the near not-quite-death experience she just had. It's so far removed from her everyday experience and she doesn't know what to feel about it. And she's fairly sure she doesn't want to go home to an empty flat, so... well, perhaps if she's upfront with Shinobu about her motivations...?

Yelan isn't even going to get started on Itto's idiot move back there, because Xiao. Xiao. Yelan has seen far too many people die senselessly. Yelan knows damn well how dangerous the valorisation of self sacrifice is. Yelan is horrified that she couldn't stop him in time, that if it wasn't for some freak miracle, Xiao would have died, and that stupid determined-serene face of his would be the last thing anyone would have seen of him.

Yelan wanders aimlessly. Eventually she goes back to one of her old safehouses, the place where she first got her Vision.

Zhongli is the one I have the most written for. A few excerpts:

"You're not due back in until next week."

Ah. The front desk wasn't empty. The Director's voice was coming from somewhere behind the stained pine counter. It took Zhongli a moment to spot the woman herself: with her hat on, her head down, and surrounded by stacks of paperwork on all sides, she was almost invisible from the doorway.

"Good evening, Director Hu," said Zhongli, with a nod of his head.

"So what happened? You can't have run out of places to vacation to... did your knee go bad, old man?, or..."

The Director glanced up from her paperwork to look at Zhongli. She squinted, and her expression flitted from bored whimsicality to confusion, then worry, then an inexplicably mournful look, before returning to bored whimsicality again, but now her eyes were sharp—all in the space of two seconds.

"Yueru, Yanhu," Director Hu called out, getting the junior undertakers' attention, "you've been at those boxes for hours. Call it quits for the day."

"We're close, Director!, just the last three left—"

"Don't care. Come deal with it tomorrow. It's getting late and I don't feel like babysitting you kids."

Director Hu waited for the undertakers—both at least a decade older than her—to file out, then crossed the room to lock the door behind them.

Her eyes, deep and dour, had not left Zhongli the entire time, and now the rest of her face grew serious to match.

"Well, you look like you've had a day," she said. "Wanna talk about it?"

and:

"I wouldn't call it a 'cost'," said Zhongli. "An expenditure of... something I cannot get back so easily these days—"

"Because you quit your old job?"

"—indeed. And were I still playing that role, such a choice might have necessitated more calculation, for all that the act itself would have been easier. But today it was simply... my choice. Made quite freely."

"And so you shaved off a little of your own vitality to preserve someone else's." Director Hu smiled gently. "A noble deed, done by a free man. Very poetic."

Zhongli nodded. "I suppose."

"And yet," she continued, "you find yourself here in the halls of the dead." The tea was ready: she poured for them. "Now, why do you suppose that is?"

"Are you suggesting I'm in grief?" said Zhongli, raising his brow.

"Heck no. Or, um, not necessarily, at least. Grief isn't the only state of mind we counsel within this fine establishment. You, Mister Zhongli, look as lost as any of our clients."

"Lost?" Zhongli cradled his cup, musing over the word. "I... am not sure I agree. I'm the same man I was this morning."

"Oya? Perhaps you've not changed... but has your understanding of yourself?"

And this, Zhongli supposed, was why he had unconsciously wandered to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor in his daze. Seventy-seven Directors and each of them, in their own way, remarkably perceptive in a way that he himself could not be.

#asks #anon #fic bits #my wips #my writing #genshin impact #zhongli #hu tao #yelan #yanfei

[mythvoiced]

@wellfell | the GBEP

---

Would Karube be granted even a minute insight into her thoughts, he'd probably and relatively begrudgingly - while feigning the opposite - have to tell her that as of right now, the very moment her voice cuts through the evening again and he pretends he hadn't been hyper-fixating on the sound of her footfall on the pavement along him, he feels no reason to smile.

Not anything boisterous or cocky, a brand of smile so easy to offer especially if it's all people expect from you.

And nothing of the privacy he doesn't know she sees in other smiles of his - to think she spends any amount of time wondering his smile, not something he's quite ready to entertain anyway.

Karube does think about death more than what some consider should be the regular amount.

He thinks about his own death and the death of those he holds dear. He thinks about what he'd do, if left stranded in life by some accident or the other that had claimed his friends - and he scolds himself for those thoughts, opens a can of beer and pretends he cares less than he does.

He thinks about if his friends will stick to the slums of society for long enough for them all to stick together when the old age variant hits them.

And he thinks about how many people would mourn if he died tomorrow and how many would be better off with one Karube Daikichi-shaped entry in their list of concerns less.

But he never thinks about Akina's death.

The choice is semi-conscious.

It's semi in the part of him that halts in his steps when she breaches the topic, looking even more like the ghost of herself that had approached him tonight, as though her fingers had begun shaking too strongly to keep the puppet-case she'd wrapped around herself intact, as if this was closer for Akina to being Akina than what Fumiko and Emi constantly try to tell him.

The conscious is in the pretending he doesn't notice himself, doesn't notice the look in her eyes or the brushing of their hands, the conscious that always works hard to keep all the unhappy, the tragic possibilities of whatever was happening around them away from him.

Akina often feels as though death follows her like a stray cat she's fed one too many times. An extra layer to her shadow, maybe, a glisten of a different shade of black in her hair or someone else's reflection staring back at him when he gets lost in the pits of her eyes.

He doesn't feel like smiling, no. He doesn't even really feel like turning to face her.

But he does anyway because he always does.

He turns with a pinched expression on his face that he tries to mask with a confused frown and a tilt of his head. He tries to keep the grimace locked behind his teeth by darkening his gaze, hardening his jaw, keeping what he feels at bay until he figures out what the hell this is and where it's coming from.

He doesn't think about Akina's death.

He thinks about it too much.

Thinks about it because some part of him knows he'll lose her before she loses him, he just doesn't know how yet.

Some of the dam breaks, shows cracks in the deep chest-rattling sigh that slips him when he runs a hand across his face. He doesn't want to appear annoyed. But there's a lot he wants he feels he must chew into to get it anywhere near himself.

His teeth are starting to hurt.

His hand drops at his side.

She's serious.

She's serious but not in that deadly charming way that promises him harsh consequences if he fucked with her plans or strategies or ideas or whatnot. It's not like her anger.

And she looks so much smaller than usual.

"I promise. If you promise to let me know ahead of time if you're gonna die, so I can make sure it doesn't happen."

Keep them or sell them or give them to someone.

She's wickedly smart, can she truly not know that he'd cut his chest open and stuff all that was hers into every space left free by his bleeding organs? That he'll have her poking out through the stitches over his heart, breaking free through his ribcage, coated in the liver he's busting?

#wellfell #death tw #gore tw #scandalous how the world thinks itself capable of holding you back;akina mori #good lord how to find salvation when i'd give up redemption for your flavour of damnation;akina & daikichi #hey nassy why must you hurt me this way why must akina's life be so painful and stressful

[susiequaz12]

Whumptober Day 8

“Everything Hurts and I’m Dying”- Back From the Dead

Day 8! This is a snippet of early Lo, back when they first got their immortality. (Kinda like a prequel piece almost.) Their masterlist is here. CW: sickness, passing out, talk of death, nonbinary whumpee, immortal whumpee.

- - -

Lo woke up with a pounding in their head- an ache in their bones, and a cough in their chest that they just couldn’t ignore. 

It must be the cold they thought. 

They added another log to the fire that had died down from the night before, and began to heat up some water for the morning. They pulled on their boots and an extra shawl over their tunic before going out to feed their few remaining chickens. 

It would take Lo a few days after they passed out to fully realize what had happened. 

Lo’s mom came to find them lying in the dirt, blood seeping from their nose, and their breathing shallow. She scooped her child in her arms- they were almost too big to carry now that they were fully grown. 

She lay them down on the cot inside and stripped Lo of their boots and shawl, placing a cold rag on their forehead and covering them with the blanket. She tried to hide the shake in her hands as she stepped outside, covering her face and pulling her rags tighter around her. 

- 

“Sir- sir please. I’ve spoken to every doctor in the village, none is even attempting to find a cure.” She begged, standing in the doorway of the small home. 

“Yes ma’am, that is because there is no cure. It comes, and it kills. There is nothing more to it.” 

“Please, there has to be something. My child is all I have.” There were tears forming in her eyes as the man stood and rose towards her.

“Do you know how many mothers I have had come to me, begging for me to spare their child? Why is yours so special? Out of all the dying children, and mothers, and fathers, why do I spare yours?” 

Her grief at losing her only family overtook her as she fell to her knees, sobbing into the hem of the man’s robes. 

“I will give you everything I can- please-” she sobbed. “They’re all I have.” 

- 

Lo awoke once more to the sounds of coughing- but it wasn’t their own. 

They pulled themselves out of bed to find their mother lying in a blanket by the fire. Her cheeks were pale, and she was shivering- but a smile crept to her face as she saw her child. 

“Mother-” Lo whispered- their voice quiet above the crackling fire. “-what happened. You’re- you’re sick-” 

“And you are not-” she smiled- reaching a hand to brush a curl away from Lo’s face. She closed her eyes with a sigh. “It- it worked.”

“Mother what are you talking about? What- what have you done?” They gripped her hand in theirs, feeling instantly how cold and clammy she was.

“My darling- please. Take what you can and go. They’re going to burn the house tomorrow.” 

“You’re coming with me. I will not leave you behind.” 

“No my child, you must. I’ve become too weak. You have to live for me-” she gripped their hand as tight as she could despite the shakes coursing through her body. “Promise me you will live.” 

Lo kissed her hand, brushing away strands of thinning hair from her face. 

“I promise mother.”

- 

And Lo lived. They watched the next morning- sobbing as their house lit up in flames. They watched over the next few weeks as their village fell into chaos. Only rumors and whispers of the sickness were enough evidence to burn another house. 

Soon, there was nobody left. 

And Lo watched as a new civilization moved in. They mourned their mother, and the little friends they’d make over the years. Eventually they’d know when they needed to move on. They traveled. They explored. Over the years they learned and experienced terror, and joy, and pain, and love. 

The world kept spinning. People kept dying. 

And somehow, they stayed true to their mother’s promise. 

Lo lived.

- - -

Taglist: @imagination1reality0 @whumpsday @thecyrulik @no-terms-and-conditions-apply @spectral-whumpy-writer

#whumptober2022 #no.8 #everything hurts and im dying #back from the dead #whump #whump writing #Marlowe the immortal #nonbinary whumpee #immortal whumpee #sickness #the black plague #death tw

[jeannahas]

Midnight Musings - Mortality

Every once in a while, something happens that makes you realize that you could die at any given moment. 

A bit of a sobering thought, but also...comforting? It’s weird. All of my life, I have feared being forgotten. It’s why I’ve come up with so many stories, tried to spread them, tried to plant seeds of memory in the minds of others. Fanfiction, actual novels that never got off of the computer screen, DnD campaigns that made me realize that I actually do have a knack for storytelling, for emotion, for tense moments and deep drama. 

I remember moments when authors I’d adored passed on. When authors who have forever marked the modern scene simply...passed on. No more words. No more stories, no more fascinating settings, no more anecdotes. 

Oddly, the nature of Mortality never really hit me until Technoblade died. 

Now, firstly: I do not follow any Minecraft anything. At all. I’ve played the game maybe a total of 12 times. I actually never even watched one of his videos until after he’d died, but...he had been so persistent, so utterly present in the online scene. He was referenced in fanart, fan animations ( which I did have a habit of trying to find and follow along with) and for years I’ve been puzzled by his popularity. 

then, out of the blue, he was just kind of...gone. People were mourning, anthems and animations received new comments about how they hit different now, since their inspiration was gone. Sadder, more forlorn. 

                                                          *

A lot of what I have done in my life has been in a mad quest for legacy. I know - as I mentioned in my last pondering around 2:00 AM - that in the grand scheme of humanity, I am a drop in the pond, as likely to succeed as any other- being not very much, but more than some. I will make an impact on many lives, but, tomorrow, three hours from now, seven years from now, something might happen that would... turn out the lights. And then it might be me, lying on the cold floor, or the unforgiving burning concrete of Las Vegas, who’s life would cease. All the stories kicking around in my mind, the thoughts, the emotions, the memories...pass on. I won’t be able to share them anymore, not even once, not even in passing. 

It’s a sobering thought. Each day I spend with my young family is a blessing, but do I treat it like one? Do I savor my daughter’s laughs as she spins in circles, having discovered that she can swing her arms wildly around her? Do I relish the embrace of my wife as she holds me close, as she hugs me when I get back from a fruitful day teaching martial arts? How would I be remembered by those around me? What will be the ashes, the footprints, the whispers on the wind that trail behind me after I am gone? 

the most haunting thing is the thought that I might not know. I do believe in an afterlife, but will we be aware of the things said of us when we are gone? 

Life will go on, and I don’t know if that is a comfort or an insult. The queen of England just died for example, and my personal life is 100% unaffected. ( USA citizen.) I just shrugged. Thought. “Huh. About time, she was 96 - that’s frickin old.” A bit direspectful, but that was my first response. At the same time, I know that she was an important figure to many - politically, culturally, emotionally even. 

so, what do we do, when facing our own mortality? when facing the fact that an errant gunman or gangster could kill me without meaning to if a firefight broke out in the street 200 yards away? 

We do our best, I have decided. We write, we laugh, we try to make the world around us a little brighter, a little cleaner, a little better in hopes that we can make a better world for our little ones when they have to face the horrors of this world. We write, we share our stories, we laugh around the campfire, as our ancestors have done for millennia upon millennia, till the finding of that first spark. 

We are creatures of stories - let us share them, and laugh, and cry, and raise a glass for those forgotten souls who have passed on with only the quietest of echoes, who’s memories are fading and faded. And, best as we can, let us try to hold on to the memories of those who’s echoes still sound within our own minds. 

-J.Na’Has

#mortality #queen #technoblade #contemplation #musings #storytelling #stories #gatheraroundthefire

[sophia-torrenismyqueen]

Jonas Maccabee WIP

So this was supposed to be just a quick one shot but I just had too much i wanted to write about and so it turned into a full on story. This is chapter 1, i guess.      Raymond was dead. It has taken hours for the sting of Jonas’s breaking oath to fade, even now there was a lasting tingle of years of loyalty and hard work towards Raymond and the Scarhands coming to an abrupt stop. The slight itch of his wrist marked the end of an era, the end of a mentor, the end of a friend. 

      It was so quick. Raymond didn't deserve such a meaningless death, just another victim, another statistic proving the necessity of fire escapes. He deserved to be executed at Liberty Square, hanged in front of a jeering crowd. 

     His last moments should be spent staring at the snarling faces of the people he once served, the people who once served him. Just like every other influential gang lord. Raymond deserved to see the impact he had made and the lives he had changed, he could finally see how many people took time out of their lives to see him. 

    Even if they were coming out of anger, they were still coming. 

    Jonas deserved to be there too. Hidden in the crowd, holding Raymond's gaze just long enough to cross his heart one last time and show respect to his Lord at the very end.

    If this was a just world Jonas would go back to Scarhand base and be happily initiated into his rightful place as Lord of the Scarhands with Raymond’s blessing. He would have achieved the one thing he had been working towards his entire life. But this was not a just world.

     Raymond died trapped in a burning building, his gang hearing Raymond’s vulnerable last screams, the one thing they should never hear. They writhed in pain on the ground the moment he took his last breaths, then collapsed in a line to recover from losing their leader, their lifeline.

      Jonas woke up last, he was shook awake by a burly shopkeeper ensuring Jonas had not died. After shakily climbing to his feet and balancing on a concrete wall, his eyes finally focused and Jonas realized his first impression had been wrong. He was not the last person to wake up. 

      St. Morse branded suit ripped and singed, the skin underneath bruised and bloody. Thick curled hair tipped with orb-maker bronze was matted and slick from blood dripping down the scalp. Soft tears dried on hard chocolate colored cheeks. Levi Glaisyer sat hunched against a brick wall, breathing shallowly and occasionally wincing in response to whatever was happening in his unconscious mind. 

     It was now that Jonas remembered what else happened at Raymond’s fiery funeral. Pup had pushed past the crowd of Scarhands gathered around the burning building, joining the confused yet frightened crowd until he finally realized who was inside the crumbling property. 

   Jonas was just a few people away from Pup when an echoing cry of anguish rang from the building, notifying the boy of exactly who the crowd would soon be mourning.

     Jonas watched how his eyes widened just slightly, how his lips parted a millimeter farther apart. Pup’s poker face was too practiced to notice much else. As quick as lightning he pushed and prodded his way to the front of the crowd, eyes only focused on the high window the scream drifted from. He sprinted to the door, ignoring the pleads of well-meaning Scarhands not wanting to lose another person to this fire. 

      Pup took a step back and rammed into the solid oak door. He promptly stumbled back, the door having barely shaked. Then again, thump. The door shook a bit more. Thump. Thump. A low wimper came from Pup as he hit the door once again. He was  going to be sore tomorrow. Thump. Thump. Thump. Finally the door fell off its hinges and Pup barged inside, covering his mouth with a tattered sleeve and letting out a deep cough.

     The crowd watched with a variety of emotions, awe, disappointment, fear, but every one was hoping that Raymond would be saved. It was a shame that hope would be wasted.

     It was a surprise for many Scarhands when Sedric Torren’s muscular cronies ran after Pup into the steadily growing flames, but not for Jonas. He had seen them lurking outside of the building when it caught fire. He had felt rage as hot as the blaze when they laughed to each other at Raymond’s first gut-wrenching scream. But Jonas just couldn’t reason why Sedric Torren would want to kill Raymond. 

    The Scrap Market was where most of his drugs, specifically Lullaby, were bought. Jonas had no doubt he would find out why though. After all, he didn’t become Scarhand’s second for not knowing these things. Well, apparently Jonas wasn’t Second anymore. He should be happy, but a promotion seemed minuscule compared to the loss of the renowned Eight-fingers.

    Skidmark was the first to fall, he was one of the earliest Scarhands. Despite this and the rumors he and Raymond were friends-with-benefits, Skid had refused the position of Second or even Third to the Scarhands, instead recommending Jonas for the promotion. It hurt to see him clutch his wrist and fall to the ground, the burly man whimpering pleads for Raymond before blacking out entirely. 

    Just a second after Skidmark fell Pup’s limp body was being pried out of the burning building, Torren’s men pulling him by the armpits. They paid no attention to the trail of blood being left behind by a fresh wound on Pup’s head, one that they must have caused.

     The crowd sagged, all hope of Raymond’s survival deflating in a collective wail. Only then did Jonas finally start to feel the tingle of his oath to Raymond breaking. It grew steadily into a sharp pain in his left arm, then a consuming fire of his entire body, finally Jonas felt nothing at all.

      His last thought was of Raymond. Eight-fingers. Scarlord. Oily black hair and sleazy gold teeth, but he was so much more. Jonas met him at nineteen years old, in the Deadfish Getaway, of all places. Raised by the New Reynes streets and a sickly single mother constantly making her way in and out of the Hospital, Jonas Macabee had barely scraped together a high school diploma through the depressing North Side public school system. This was a great accomplishment considering his countless absences and suspensions throughout the years, and yet Jonas couldn’t find it in himself to be happy. 

   His mother was still recovering from another debilitating flu, most likely flirting with every doctor and nurse within a three mile radius at this very moment. 

    Due to his introverted and lone-wolf nature Jonas was left lonely and lost in a cheap cigarette-scented bar, the steady drip of what may or may not be water through the shabby tin roof being the only thing to keep him company. Jonas had lived his life one second at a time up until this point, living hard and fast on the edge. Only now did he realize he had no plan for the future, no savings to lean back on, nobody waiting for him at home. 

   And so Jonas took another sip of his cocktail, an ugly pea green thing that tasted of gasoline and lip balm, distracting himself from the fact his future was just as bleak as everyone else drinking their troubles away in this god-forsaken bar. 

     Just then a tall man sat across to Jonas, disregarding the many open seats not directly facing a stranger. He was pale and starved looking, long black hair wrapped in tangles behind him. With a face so rough and scarred, Jonas struggled to even realize his odd expression was excitement. While he was pulling a tattered leather drawstring bag to the table Jonas noticed that his left pointer and index finger had been sawed down to nubs, the skin of his pointer loosely hanging, Jonas watched it flap with a sort of morbid curiosity, still wondering why this strange man had taken an interest in Jonas’s unassuming figure.

     “Hey there, you look down on your luck.”

The man said, finally settling as he stared Jonas down; an excited glimmer in his eye.

     “I bet you're young, lost, tired, and if you're in this sort of place, not particularly law-abiding.”

     Jonas didn't know if he should be offended by the remark or impressed at how accurate it was, so he settled on a sarcastic stare and eye roll to express himself.

     “Not a talker then, that’s alright. What if I told you that there was a way to start a profitable and successful business for, let’s say, some more illicit property. With plenty of like-minded people, of course. A sort of ’Black Market’ if you will. Completely hypothetically, of course.”

     He paused suddenly, dark eyes gouging out a reaction in Jonas’s. Though he really had no qualms about the idea, having occasionally dabbled in selling such things as Mistress or Lullaby himself, Jonas was well aware that the woman sitting a booth behind them was eavesdropping on the Man’s proposal. 

      If she was a whiteboot in disguise or a snitch Jonas didn’t want her thinking he was involved in something that could get him stuck in jail just hours after graduation. Oh how his teachers would laugh if they found out the odd Maccabee boy was arrested the moment he had left school.

      Swirling the half-drunk cocktail in his fingers, small ice cubes clinking at every moment, Jonas hummed and replied. “I don’t typically get mixed up with that sort of thing.”

      The Man’s mangled hand jerked out and abruptly grabbed Jonas’s wrist. The drink slammed on the table, ice stilling while his other hand shook its pointer finger in front of Jonas slowly.

    “No, no, no, don’t lie to me…” He leaned forwards, pale lips almost touching Jonas’s ear. The Man’s warm breath brought his heart rate to a pounding high, the closeness unnatural, his ominous words unnerving Jonas. 

     “You know, I can tell when you're lying.” He whispered. 

“It’s my talent. My mother‘s side. Amy Kitamura, making me Raymond Kitamura. Like she used to say, every time you lie, I can hear it. I can see it.

I can feel it.”

“So I’d advise you to say the right thing. I really don’t like it when people lie to me.”

    The man slowly pulled away, his eyes never left Jonas, who had been still as a stature throughout the eerie warning. 

“Now, I can tell you know your way around a bit of forgery, I saw you walk in and pull out your ID. It said ‘23’ but you can’t be a day over 19.” 

    The man seemed to recover from Jonas’s earlier lie. He was now smiling knowingly, as if he and Jonas shared some secret, which he supposed they did. 

    “Did you do it yourself? It’s a smooth cut, clean, impossible to see with the untrained eyes…” His smile widened more, stretching across his entire face, almost inhumanly.

    “I think you would make a great addition to our market. Meet us tomorrow.”

He pulled out a small piece of paper from his sack, it had an address and time written in sloppy childish handwriting on the back. 

    While Jonas was investigating the Man had slipped out of the bar, leaving nothing but the mysterious paper and an air of promise behind. 

    734 Guillory Street. 5:30 am. No whiteboots.

After a quick glance around the bar, Jonas stuffed the note into his jeans, chugged down the rest of his unpleasant drink, and stumbled through the creaky door after the Man. He was climbing into a large battered truck when Jonas found him. By the time he had in turn noticed Jonas, the Man was already driving away, lending nothing but a wink through the car window to the young man’s wandering glance.

     734 Guillory Street. 5:30 am.

     734 Guillory Street. 

     5:30 am.

    Maybe it was a bad idea to meet with mysterious and greasy men speaking of black markets get-together at five in the morning, hours before Jonas normally woke up, and yet there wasn’t much of a choice. 

     Go back to an empty apartment, no plan for the future, nobody to comfort him, no reason to continue living an empty life devoid of emotion and importance, or take a risk. Trust an obvious criminal with questionable motives and a hazardous idea, get himself into more trouble than he’s ever been in, and break the countless rules of lying-low and keeping out of attention that’s been pummeled into him from childhood?

There was really only one option.

    Tomorrow at 5:30 am, on 734 Guillory street, Jonas Macabee would be there.

#Ace of shades #fanfiction #Jonas Maccabee #Raymond Kitamura #The Shadow Game #Levi Glaisyer #God I love worldbuilding #Flashbacks