#this is why I can't trust the word 'virtual' anymore

[gulnarsultan]

Hi darling!

Can I request a poly!volturi kings x fem!reader where the kings don't have time to spend time with the reader but she really needs them. So jane and alec (which the reader is close to) have to tell the kings that they are needed.

Hello sweetie. ❤ I hope you will like it.

You were not selfish. You knew who they were and how important their mission was. But didn't they even have five minutes to spare for their precious wives? As you repeat this question in your mind, your heart begins to break. You also started to spend your time with the guards. You used to make up with Jane, comb and braid your hair. She used to show you her newly bought porcelain dolls. Alec shows you the pictures he made. He was painting you. Felix and Demetri were spending time playing virtual games. You were having girl talk with Renata, Corin, Heidi and Chelsea. Afton and Santiago were helping you with the plants in the garden. Soon your husbands realized that you were no longer spending time with them and you were not striving for it. While they were all in the throne room, the subject was brought up by Aro.

"Our precious wife is moving away from us."

"Aro is right about that. What's wrong with him?"

While Marcus wanted to say something, Jane started to speak.

"She's heartbroken because you don't want to spend time with her. She's trying to heal her heart by spending time with us rather than begging you."

The kings were both surprised and worried when they saw how angry the twins were. When you came to the throne room, Marcus noticed that your golden bonds against them had faded.

"Dear wife. We heard there are some problems."

"No problem. I overcame the problem myself."

"So by getting away from us?"

"You have no idea how it feels to have so-called soul mates who don't even have five minutes to spare for you, Caius. I'm not selfish. I understand if you don't have time for me. And I spend time with friends who want to spend time with me."

"Honey, we love you."

"Love is not just words, Aro. Love is proved by demonstrations. In fact, I have no faith in these strings anymore. I don't even trust the ones you really love anymore."

If they had asked the Kings what was the heaviest physical and emotional blow they have taken in their lifetime, their answer would have been the day you said those words to them. Even if the Kings wanted to spend time with you in the coming days, you stayed away from them. Finally, Caius lost his patience and yelled at you.

"Smug. We are your Kings. You can't disrespect us. You won't turn down our love."

Tears began to flow from your eyes with meaning at these words. The guards were so enraged. You left the throne room and went to an unused room. Curled under the covers, you never went out until evening. Jane and Alec brought you dinner.

"I'd pull out her barbie hair one by one if I could. You're the most perfect person I've ever met in my life. Please don't let any idiot's words hurt you."

"Jane is right."

In a short time, other guards came and joined you. They were all trying to lift your spirits.

"Honestly, I may be unfortunate with a soul mate. But I'm very lucky to have good friends like you."

You had decided to go out into the garden when it was midnight after they had left. You were sitting on the bench by the water fountain and looking at the sky. The kings came to you very sad and embarrassed.

"Can we come dear?"

"Why do you ask for permission? As the king, everything belongs to you."

"I didn't mean to say it like that. I was very angry."

"You don't need to fall in love, King. You have the right to do anything."

"Aro, please forgive Caius and me, honey. Believe me, we're in pain. We feel all your feelings, too."

"Marcus is right. It really hurts."

"I don't believe it. I'm actually stupid enough to think you love me. I was foolish enough to believe that a tyrant like you, especially Cauis, would."

"Please don't say that."

"I don't believe any of you anymore. I don't have good feelings for you anymore. I want to go."

Aro knelt before you and held your hands.

"You don't know what to do without reading my mind."

Aro's hands pushed off and you stood up. A few days passed after this speech. The mood of the kings was in a very bad state. While you were lying on your bed in your room, the Kings had arrived. You ignored them by turning your face the other way. Aro was on your right, Marcus on your left, and Caius between your legs. After five quiet minutes, you noticed that your body and emotions were starting to heal.

"I don't know if I can forgive you."

"Trying will be enough for us."

"I'll do my best."

Now the Kings, or at least one of them, were spending time with you on a daily basis. Although it took a few months for your forgiveness, your bonds were stronger than before. This was a lesson that the Kings would never forget.

#yandere twilight #yandere volturi kings x reader #yandere volturi kings #yandere volturi x reader #yandere volturi #yandere aro volturi x reader #yandere aro volturi #yandere marcus volturi x reader #yandere marcus volturi #yandere caius volturi x reader #yandere caius volturi

[goshdangronpa]

When I'm not writing Danganronpa fan fiction, I moonlight as a professional content/copywriter. All the fresh discourse about plagiarism is reminding me of some formative experiences in my work life, and certain people I've met ...

My first job was with a fast-paced marketing company. The in-house writing team maintained weekly blogs for a bunch of clients, and each writer had to write two 1000-word blog posts a day. That's tough, especially for someone who was still pretty fresh in the field. We were salaried rather than hourly (!), so there was no incentive to staying late ... but that also meant the company didn't have to fret about overtime pay, so we could stay late if we needed it. I'd regularly be the last one in the office, still pumping out words in the struggle to meet deadlines.

Much of my time was spent on research. I knew little about the subjects at hand, which were sometimes highly technical, so I couldn't just BS my way through assignments. I even requested and received permission to take one client's worker education course, just so I could know what the heck I was writing about. It didn't seem at all remarkable to me. It was a job. My job. Although I could've been better, or at least faster, I simply did what needed to be done.

I learned that others took a ... different approach.

One supervisor was on sabbatical for the first couple of months I worked there. I respected them as my superior. Then I was assigned to peer-edit one of their articles, something we did with everything we wrote. One uncited claim led me to Google ... where I found a nearly identical article already published. Supervisor did the ol' switcheroo of amending sentence structures and swapping words for poorly chosen synonyms. I brought it up with them, saying I wouldn't report the incident but urged them to not do that. I can't recall what happened next, other than not trusting Supervisor anymore.

After three months passed, I was up for employee review. The bosses liked what they've read - yay! And then they said, "Here's why we're not giving you a raise." My stomach dropped. Apparently, they checked how many articles everyone wrote. I was behind on a quota I knew nothing about. If I wanted more money, I should take a page from the writer in the lead. Champ had somehow written 60 articles in the past month. Amazing! My employer set a goal much humbler than what my work friend had surpassed. If Champ could do that much, surely I could do this little.

Reader, I did my best. I stayed at the office later and later, especially as the date of my next employee review drew near. Due to my salaried status, I wasn't even paid for that overtime, but I put in the time anyway. It was all for nothing. Just a week before the next meeting, where they would've decided whether I deserved a raise or not, they laid off virtually the entire writing department. Apparently, underpaying freelancers who don't get benefits was easier.

Only one person from the crew stayed. If it was gonna be anybody, it was golden goose Champ, who maintained their insane pace. I wished them well.

Anyone wanna guess the secret behind Champ's prodigious output? It's the same reason they got fired just a few weeks later.

The reveal was a betrayal. We were friends, Champ and I, getting each other through the grind of the content mill with sarcastic humor and deep conversations. They encouraged and motivated me to keep up, all the while hiding some dirty tricks that eventually helped them stay in the race while I spun out. I was shocked to discover that I had zero empathy for them. But they deserved none, the filthy plagiarist. Haven't spoken to them since finding out.

This may not be as sordid as everything H. Bomberguy discusses in his brilliant new video. My coworkers and I were literally anonymous, with no clout to speak of, let alone abuse. Our clients were small businesses with little platform, which is why they contracted a marketing agency in the first place. Still, it hurt the hell out of me, and I wasn't even the one being copied! Plagiarism is a curse word in my household, lowest of the low (without getting into, like, actual atrocity).

And you know what? Years later, what I wrote for that company still holds up in my eyes. Those old blog posts aren't exactly the Great American Novel, or even on par with what I'd write as I gained more experience, but I put the effort into writing high-quality and original stuff. I worked hard. I still work hard. As self-deprecating and even self-loathing as I can be, I'll always pride myself on this. May you writers out there be able to pride yourselves on this, too.

#still sad about James Rolfe though. I know it seems he didn't do it himself but what the Cinemassacre case reveals is just plain sad #goshdang rambles #(new tag for non-DR-related posts like this)

[meruli]

Why are NFTs and Metaverse stuff so big in Japan

#seriously #everywhere there seems to be nfts and metaverse stuff??? #line is doing nfts and spreading them to niconico #bandai is doing the gundam metaverse and the denonbu nft app #momoclo is selling nfts #the tif afterparty sold nfts too #with metaverse stuff I'm not so sure because they might just be referring to virtual spaces unrelated to crypto #but honestly those are still too dystopian #I don't like the idea of human beings creating their own technological worlds that are completely controlled by humans- #-while simutaneously destroying the actual world #also we all know that the synthetic dimensions humans create are going to be controlled by the 1% #aren't there voice acting agencies selling nfts of their talents too? #I know a lot of people don't know what nfts are beyond 'digital pictures' but come on #why does human society keep creating more problems while fixing little to none of their old ones #this is why I can't trust the word 'virtual' anymore

[thelittlewriter]

An Unusual Encounter

Chapter 1 :

Pairing : Choso x reader

Content Warning : fluff, angst, smut (not sure but clearly not for now), slow burn (?), emotional characters.

- Please ?

You sighed. Yuji had been following you all day, with his puppy eyes.

- Sure, you simply answered.

It was not like it would be a big deal, right ? Just a dinner and a movie at his place... and his newfound brother's. He agreed to live with him since a week ago after Yuji's brother came back from overseas.

"He's got a load of money and he wants me to live with him, you know I can't afford saying no" he told you soon after he heard the offer.

But it didn't seem like a great idea anymore. Hence why you were invited for dinner.

- Just let me go change after my shift and we'll meet there, ok ?

- No, please let me go to your place with you, he begged. I can't be with him anymore...

You wondered what happened between the two of them but you didn't want to meddle in things that were none of your business. But if he couldn't face his brother on his own, maybe this dinner wasn't such a good idea.

The more you were thinking about it during your shift, or when you saw your friend's scared face or heard his trembling voice talking about his brother, the less you wanted to go.

His nervousness influenced your own behavior. At your apartment, you changed clothes a dozen of times, thinking about how you could look good in front of someone you knew nothing about.

Yuji even asked you to knock on the door of his place. When you asked him why he wasn't just using his key, he mumbled something you didn't understand and so you nervously knocked on the door.

You looked down to your own hands.

Why am I even here ?

Why can't he face his brother ?

Is his brother going to kill me ?

Save me !

- Yuji ? Why didn't you use your key ? Come in.

You looked up. Tall, he was so tall. His long black hair were tied up in twin tails.

You immediately looked down when his eyes caught yours staring. Was it a face tattoo ?

Yuji already left, virtually running away from his brother and leaving you with him.

- You must be Yuji's friend... Nice to meet you, I'm Choso.

You didn't look up to him, your eyes still on the wooden floor of the apartment.

- I'm Y/N... Nice to meet you too.

- I made dinner, I hope you'll like it.

He walked next to you, guiding you to the kitchen.

- You and him work at a coffee shop together, right ?

You nodded, not trusting your voice at the moment.

- I told him he didn't really need to, now that he lives with me, but he said it wasn't a big deal and that he enjoyed spending time there. I think he really likes you.

You finally looked up to him. There was a small smile in his face, while looking at Yuji who was clearly avoiding looking at you two.

Now that you thought about it, that place was huge. If Choso was paying for all of this, Yuji probably didn't need to work and his brother didn't seem to have any ill intentions toward him yet. So why exactly was Yuji scared ?

You sat next to Yuji, who was unusually silent. It made you a little dizzy as you started eating in silence.

- So... Are you a chef? It’s very tasty... so...

You cleared your throat for what felt like the hundredth time. Choso laughed and answered :

- Thank you but I’m not... I’m a painter.

You looked around, suddenly noticing the few paintings on the wall. Were they his? You smile at him. As expected, you still weren’t good at making conversation with a stranger, and Yuji didn’t seem to want to help either. So the rest of dinner went silently. When Choso noticed you were all finished, he stood up.

- How about you guys choose the movie while I clear the table?

He looked at you. There was something in his eyes. You couldn’t figure out what it was. Yuji silently walked toward the television without saying a word, grabbing your arm while you whispered a weak “thank you” to Choso. You sat at the end of the sofa while your friend looked for a movie.

- Choso is nice.

- Yeah, he is, Yuji said.

Then, he looked at you and added :

- I never said he wasn’t.

You nodded. That was true, but he didn’t say anything to say anything to hint that he was either. You heard Choso’s footstep getting close to the two of you and his voice :

- It’s a little cold. Shall I go grab a blanket?

Yuji groaned an answer so you answered :

- Yes, please. Thank you.

He went back to where he came from, and your eyes lost him.

- Yuji?

- Yeah...

- Maybe you should be a tiny bit nicer to your brother.

He looked at him, frowning.

- I am nice.

You didn’t want to add anything.

“It’s none of your business.”

- Can we switch seats, please?

He was doing his puppy eyes again and you looked at him, confused.

- I just don’t wanna sit next to him.

You sighed but still obeyed. That wasn’t really an example of what being nice was but you didn’t say anything. Choso came back with the blanket and looked at you two. If he noticed the switch of seats, he didn’t say anything. The movie started as silently as dinner. You looked at Choso once in a while, like your eyes were attracted to his face. You swore you saw tears in his when he watched the scene where the dog was separated from his master. You smiled at the sight.

When the movie ended, Yuji stood up quickly and turned on the light. Then, he turned to you and asked :

- I’m gonna make a smoothie. Do you want one?

You nodded. He was about to leave but he said :

- Choso?

The latter turned toward his brother, eyes shining like a thousand stars.

- Yes, please.

He was smiling. It was contagious and you smiled too but your heart clenched a little. How rarely did Yuji talk to his brother for him to react like this when he wasn’t completely ignored?

- Thank you for coming, he said after a while. I know my brother doesn’t like me so it’s nice to know he has people like you he can count on. 

You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t true but you didn’t know if that wasn’t a lie.

- It’s just been a while since you two talked... that’s all. You just need to give him a little more time... You’re his brother, after all, I’m sure he loves you a lot.

He smiled weakly.

- How about we go out tomorrow? you add. You, Yuji, and me. We could grab a drink and then go home.

He nodded eagerly. He really didn’t spend that much time with his brother.

- But he probably doesn’t want to... It’s fine, I understand.

- I’ll make sure he comes.

- It’s getting late, he said after a second.

You looked around, embarrassed.

- Yeah... I should probably go.

- No! I mean... yes, if you want to... but I didn’t mean it that way. Just that I could drive you home if you want to... 

- Oh? I thought you were gonna sleep here?

You jumped at Yuji’s voice. You looked at him. Since when was he here? Did he hear the conversation?

- I’ll just go home...

- Why? It’s not like it’s the first time you staying after movie night. And you haven’t seen my bedroom yet!

He quickly put a cup in your hand and grabbed the other while announcing :

- We’re going!

You barely have the time to say good night to Choso. The last sight you have of him is his flustered face and red cheeks.

Cute.

Hey ! I hadn't planned to post it now but it's been a while since I posted something... I hope you enjoyed it ! The chapter is a little small but I think that will be the length of every chapters. I’ll try to update at least every week ! Thank you for reading ! Have a good day !!

#jjk choso #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x oc #jjk fanfic #jjk #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso fluff #choso angst #slow burn #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[ohgodmyeyes]

Patience

Heavily implied Ferus x Anakin; 6.5k words; T-rated; hurt/comfort. (I really like this one.)

Summary: Anakin's guilt over Darra's death killed his marriage before it even began, and now it's killing him, too.

How many more times can he call on Ferus to clean up his messes for him before Ferus decides he's had enough?

...

"No, Anakin— I can't. I can't do it this time; I'm sorry."

"Ferus, please— sh-she's going to be here with them at noon, a-and—"

"I've already missed three of the last five practices because of this! If they think they can't even trust me to show up to the arena, they'll—"

"I know! I know, okay? But I can't do it by myself, and I don't have anyone else to call."

"Anakin, I told you last time that I can't keep—"

"I won't bother you again! Not after this! Christ, Ferus, please! You know she'll—"

"Fine! Fine, I'll be there in twenty minutes. But you have to promise me this time that you'll—"

"I will! I will; whatever you want! Just— just... hurry, okay? Please?"

"I'm already on my way, Anakin— I'll see you soon."

"O-okay. I'll be waiting."

"I know."

Anakin's phone hit the dusty carpet at his feet, landing with a muted thump. Face-up with its lockscreen lit, he couldn't help but wonder if the device didn't actually intend to mock him with the big, blatant 9:37 am situated prominently in the centre of the display.

He wanted to stand up from the sofa... but no matter how much we willed himself to try, he just couldn't seem to straighten out his legs.

Ferus was going to be furious with him if he couldn't even manage to answer the door when he arrived, and he knew it.

His eyes travelled across the surface of the coffee table in front of him; it was crowded, but his cigarettes and lighter— both bright-blue— stood out clearly, even in the dim light (Anakin nearly always kept his blinds shut). He took a smoke, stuck it in his mouth, and lit it; after that, he reached back over to the table, and picked up something else: A small photograph; wallet-sized, and unframed. One of those ones everybody's parents used to buy from their school every year, and line up on top of the refrigerator or television or fireplace.

This one was of a girl— a happy-looking, mousey-haired, teenage girl.

Anakin bit his lip and turned it over onto its face, because now that he wasn't quite so drunk as he'd been last night, he couldn't bring himself to look at it.

The rest of the table around the picture was littered with loose cigarette butts and miniature bottles of vodka; here and there, a beer can stood tall as if to break up the monotony of the landscape. All of the containers were empty, and all of the butts were burned right down to their melted filters: Anakin hadn't had a good night last night.

The back of the photo wasn't much better than the front, but it was easier not to look at Darra's hand-printed name than it was to try not to look at her face.

I'm sorry— I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

That's all he ever said to her anymore, whether he was drunk or not; still, he took out that damn picture and laid it out on the table every time he so much as thought of her. Anakin owed Darra that, didn't he?

She'd still be alive, after all, if he hadn't tried to drive her home that night— hammered drunk, and pumped full of adrenaline. He'd only tried it because he was the one who'd dragged her to the stupid graduation party in the first place; he was the one with the car, and the licence. When she'd asked him to get her out of there, desperation writ clear on her face, what else was he supposed to have done?

Anything. Anything else.

He'd ended up wrapping his little red car around a tree that night; Darra had broken her neck flying through the windshield and out onto the pavement, but Anakin had walked away virtually unscathed.

It was almost funny to him that, even all these years later, he still liked to drink.

"Okay," he said out loud, although even he wasn't sure why. Likely, it was intended to be self-motivational; however, Anakin remained just as immobilized after he finished saying it than he had been before.

All he could smell was smoke; smoke, and maybe some old food, although he couldn't begin to guess where he might have left something like that (unless, of course, the kitchen had grown so bad that the stench was wafting in from there). He was clothed, but his clothes were filthy; it was Saturday now, and he'd had them on since about Thursday morning.

...How the hell was it already Saturday, anyway?

Counting like a toddler on a set of shaky, calloused fingers, Anakin tried as he choked back his smoke to recount the past few days in his head. He'd started drinking Thursday evening after work, because he knew he wasn't going to have to go back until Monday; he had known to expect his kids on Saturday, but something had obviously gone wrong, and now—

Now, his living room was littered with garbage and bottles and misplaced items of just about every description, the air in his house was blue with smoke, and he was sure he looked precisely as terrible as he felt.

All that, and his kids were due to be here in less time than it would have taken Ferus to attend his hockey practice, if only he'd made it out the door that morning before Anakin had made his phone buzz.

At least, he thought, Ferus was used to him making his phone buzz.

"Okay," he repeated to himself, after a few more grateful lungfuls of smoke... and this time, he seemed to have a bit more luck with his legs: Stubbing out his cigarette (he even managed to do it in the ashtray), he grunted as he pulled himself to his feet, and reluctantly surveyed the mess in front of him.

Shit.

No— no 'shit'. Ferus is coming, remember?

Even Ferus said he can't keep doing this. Next time—

"Shut up." Anakin was no stranger to arguing with himself. "There won't be a 'next time', alright?" He didn't know if he really believed that or not; all he wanted was for his brain to pipe down.

He kicked at a half-crumpled beer can near his foot on the floor, and when its tinny rattle was all he could hear, he supposed it meant his talking back had worked.

Knock knock.

"Ferus."

Maybe he would be impressed instead of disappointed, Anakin thought— here he was, after all; up on his own two feet. That was better than last time, wasn't it?

...When the hell had Anakin Skywalker become a person who hoped against hope that someone would be 'impressed' with him for getting up and walking ten feet across a room to answer a goddamn door?

"Hey," he started in a near-mechanical fashion, desperate to ignore his own intrusive thoughts. "I really can't thank you enough for—"

"Not this time, Anakin."

Shit. "I— I didn't mean to—"

Ferus breezed right past, before Anakin could get another word in— as soon as there was enough room between himself and the open front door to do so. The first thing he did was wrinkle his nose in response to the rank odour of old smoke and stale food lingering in the air; the second thing he did was survey the space. His face was stony, and his shoulders were squared; to Anakin, he looked almost confrontational.

"At least it's not as bad as it was last time," he observed, even though he knew very well that wasn't saying very much.

Anakin didn't answer to that— what was there to say?

Immediately, Ferus started opening windows: Between the smoke and the acrid stench of whatever was rotting away in the kitchen, he felt he didn't have much of a choice.

"I've told you before," he said as he finished his walk around the perimeter of the room, "that if you're having a hard time, you need to tell her— be honest with her! I know you aren't together anymore, but—"

"If I could tell her about things like this," interrupted Anakin, motioning about at the mess, "then we would still be together. She doesn't understand; all she does is get angry. If she sees the house— sees me— this way, she'll take me right back to court. I... I might not see my kids for months." She hadn't always been so stringent, but over the years, Padmé's patience with Anakin and his struggles had worn thin. She wanted to go to work, raise her children, and see her friends— not babysit her sad, drunk husband.

Now that he was approaching thirty years of age, in fact, no one wanted to do that for Anakin anymore. Few ever did, except for Ferus, and even he'd grown increasingly distant since the start of the most recent spiral: It had all started almost a year ago, with Anakin quitting the hockey team; as far as Ferus could tell, there was still no end to it in sight.

He'd been there for Anakin as much as he could over the years: Sometimes that had been a lot and sometimes it had only been a little, but no matter what, it only ever got harder. Anakin made it that way, whether he meant to or not— like a heavy stone, inexplicably destined to be rolled uphill.

"If you're afraid of not being allowed to see your kids, Anakin..." Ferus trailed off; he sounded just exasperated enough that he knew he didn't need to finish. He didn't want to finish.

"I know," said Anakin, because he did— he did know. Swallowing hard in an effort to forgo the last sticky, useless vestiges of his own ego, he admitted, "I was going to a group, but..."

"But what?" Ferus demanded. Anakin had been in and out of about a dozen 'groups'.

"But... there were too many people. Every time I went to say something, I froze up— and— well, it—"

Ferus interrupted with a heavy sigh. "Whatever, Anakin," he said, with deliberate dismissiveness. "It doesn't matter. You called me here today to clean up for you, right?"

Anakin bit down on his lip. "Y-yeah— but it's not just—"

"Then I'll get cleaning." He walked off in the direction of the kitchen, then. Even though Anakin had only lived in it since his divorce, Ferus was quite familiar with the layout of his home: Again, this wasn't the first time he'd been called to fix things after one of his binges.

Ferus soon discovered (predictably) that the countertop needed as much work as the living room seemed to, if not more; several days worth of barely-picked-at food was stagnating in dishes all over every surface. The stove was near-invisible, and the sink might as well not have existed just then for how much there was stacked up inside of it.

There was a garbage can in the corner, but Ferus could hardly hazard a guess at the last time the bag inside had been changed.

Goddamnit, Anakin.

Ferus tightly clenched his own jaw as he bent to retrieve a big, plastic garbage bag from the cupboard beneath that tragically-overloaded sink; the one he hated that he was likely about to have to clean. He didn't like to be frustrated; not with Anakin, or anyone else— very likely (and somewhat juxtapositionally), his own inherent distaste for those types of feelings were what let him tolerate things like this as well as he did.

There was, however, only so much a person could take— even when that person happened to be Ferus Olin.

Anyway, cleaning Anakin's sink for him time after time didn't seem to be helping him very much. Briefly, Ferus wondered if he shouldn't just leave right then— if it might actually end up being better for Anakin (and everyone else) if his ex-wife were allowed to see for herself just how terribly he seemed to fall to pieces every few weeks.

...That thought, though, left his mind almost as quickly as it had invaded it. Even in the midst of his own irritation, Ferus couldn't bring himself to imagine the pain it would cause Anakin to have his children turned around on a dime, and marched back out to their mother's car on a day they were supposed to have visited.

Garbage bag in hand, he walked back out into the living room. Seeing Anakin standing there was, somehow, jarring; to view him head-to-toe was to be forced to acknowledge just how much of a toll nearly a decade's worth of guilt and grief had taken on him.

He was more pale (ashen, really) than Ferus could ever remember him being; skinnier, too; with dull, greasy hair far longer than anyone who knew Anakin would ever have presumed him to be comfortable with. His face was drawn, and his eyes were red— he didn't look well. It was then that Ferus came to understand that a large part of why he'd been so distant lately was (to his own deep and immediate regret) that Anakin had, quite simply, grown increasingly difficult to lay eyes on at as time had marched on.

It wasn't because he was ugly— no matter what Anakin did to himself, he could never have been ugly— but rather, because he didn't seem 'right'. He didn't seem like Anakin. At the very least, he wasn't who Ferus had come to know him to be, and witnessing his decline was, above all else, painful.

Even right now— from several feet away— Ferus was quite sure he could smell the days of grime that had built up on his body as he'd sat and drank, sprawled out on his gross, old couch.

"You should go upstairs and have a shower," he said, almost certainly more tersely than he actually intended. "I'll start taking care of things down here." That was, after all, how it had worked every other time he'd been called for this.

Anakin nodded, exactly as aware as Ferus of just how badly he needed to scrub himself down. After a brief moment of silent hesitation, he turned on his heel and walked off in the direction of the narrow staircase at the far end of the room. As he did, Ferus watched him; again, it hurt to do: From this angle, Anakin looked too old; almost gaunt beneath his clothes, with lines on his face and even a few subtle streaks of grey in his hair.

...In another way, though, he looked altogether too young: Like he hadn't aged (or, for that matter, grown) since the day he'd killed Darra.

He didn't 'kill' Darra.

He didn't mean to kill her.

By the time Anakin was trudging his way up the stairs (maybe for the first time that week), Ferus was glad not to be facing him.

He knew he shouldn't blame Anakin for what happened that night; he knew nobody else should, either— but it was, to an extent, unavoidable. He did it anyway (although he certainly wasn't the only one), and Anakin was all too aware of it. Her death had driven a silent wedge between them, and their relationship had never quite recovered. Ferus often theorized that it was a large part of why Anakin had run so readily into Padmé's arms after high school.

That endeavour, however well-intended, had always been destined to fail. Anakin had been broken beyond measure by then; too broken, anyway, for a single person to be able to pick up all of the pieces. Ferus had, in essence, left Padmé to do that all alone— was it really any wonder it hadn't worked out for them?

It hadn't all been Ferus' fault, of course, and he did know that, even if he didn't always feel it. Anakin had, frankly, been too young to get married— too young to have babies, and certainly too young to get divorced. Although fatherhood obviously brought him great joy (if it didn't, he would never have embarrassed himself by phoning anyone about this at all), it also took more from him than Ferus sometimes suspected he had to give.

He waited until he heard the shower upstairs begin to squeal before he started loading trash from the table into the bag. He couldn't help but shake his head as he did; the sheer volume of cigarette butts and liquor containers was, to him, patently morbid. Was Anakin trying to die?

He didn't have a right to that, Ferus thought bitterly. Not when he still had his kids; not when he still had people (or, one person, at least) who would come to him when he called. Darra never even got a chance to have anything like that.

Doesn't that mean anything to him?!

In his frustration, Ferus found himself being a bit less careful with what he was grabbing from the table— handfuls of trash went into the bag all at once; bottles and cigarette wrappers and loose bits of all manner of crap. As the dirty, semi-lacquered surface started to become visible again, he almost didn't notice when he happened to pick up something that wasn't garbage.

It was a good thing he did notice— because not only would Anakin never have forgiven Ferus for throwing out one of the only remaining photos of Darra in his possession, it was quite likely that Ferus wouldn't have forgiven himself, either.

"I don't know why you do this to yourself, Anakin," he muttered anyway, setting down the trash bag. He didn't actually look at the photo as he walked it over to a shelf at the edge of the room, and put it up out of harm's way: Why the hell would he have looked at it?

Looking at Darra wasn't going to bring her back.

The shower upstairs was still running; by now, Ferus could smell Anakin's soap as its scent wafted down the stairs. Graciously, it seemed to be helping displace some of the stale smoke that had built up in the living room—encouraging it out the newly-opened windows, and replacing it with something more palatable.

Anakin had been using the same soap for years; the familiarity of it was enough to dissolve Ferus' irritation (for now, at least) while he went back to work on the coffee table. Anyway, if he'd truly been upset with Anakin for this, would he really have shown up to help?

...Maybe.

He supposed that since he was already here, it didn't particularly matter anymore what he'd been feeling when he'd made the decision to show up.

Ferus would rather have been shooting pucks at Tru right now— he and Anakin had once done that together, alongside Ben and a number of other assorted alumni of their local high school; however, Anakin hadn't played hockey for a long time, now. Anyway, Tru hadn't spoken to him in any meaningful capacity since the accident with Darra; likewise, Anakin hadn't been close with Ben for years.

When she died, they had all died— all in their own ways.

Maybe Anakin's death was simply the ugliest. Maybe that was why it stood out.

The shower had stopped by then, and Ferus had moved onto the floor. He knew he couldn't vacuum the carpet until he'd at least picked up a few of the bigger chunks of clothing and garbage scattered about it. He managed to make a bit of progress before he heard Anakin's footsteps; segueing first into the hallway above him, and then starting heavily back down the stairs.

"Why aren't you dressed?" he asked, when Anakin appeared at the threshold of the living room with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"I don't have any clean clothes," he answered simply. He didn't even seem embarrassed to admit it, which somehow made it all the more sad.

Ferus sighed— sighed, and tried not to react to the sight of Anakin clad in a saggy, threadbare strip of terrycloth (it felt like a long time since he'd seen him in just a towel).

"My hockey bag is in my car," he said. "I have clean sweatpants, and a clean shirt in there, too— if you want, you can borrow them."

"I, um— that wouldn't... bother you?" Now Anakin did look ashamed, if only a little bit.

"Of course it wouldn't. We used to share clothes all the time, didn't we?"

Anakin nodded. The two had, in fact, once made quite a habit out of exchanging t-shirts and hoodies. "You, um— you don't mind going to get them, then...?"

"I'll be right back," said Ferus, setting the trash bag down in front of Anakin. "Try to pick up a couple of things while I'm gone, alright?"

"...Alright."

As Ferus walked out to his car, he couldn't help but wonder if the clothes he had in his bag would even fit Anakin properly. For someone who sat around drinking on most of his days off, he was disconcertingly thin; he supposed it must be a consequence of all that prepared-but-uneaten food he'd detected rotting away in the kitchen. He and Anakin had once shared dinners together— lots of them. Before he'd gotten married; sometimes even after that too, if Padmé was busy and her husband was lonely.

Ferus hadn't had dinner with Anakin for almost as long as he'd gone without seeing him in a towel.

Maybe it was something he ought to try again sometime.

"Here," he said, thrusting a soft, mostly-black bundle into Anakin's arms once he'd closed up his car, and made his way back into the house. "Go and put these on— you'll have to tie the pants up tight."

"Thanks," said Anakin. "I'll wash them and give them back; I—"

"Don't worry about it right now, okay? Just go and get dressed. I'll vacuum, and start gathering up laundry; once you've put yourself together, you can help with the kitchen." Ferus started to go back to the mess on the living room floor (there was even a small, dried-up puddle of what looked like vomit near the couch; that would require a bit of extra attention), but paused for a moment before fully turning his back.

"What?" asked Anakin. Of course he had noticed.

"...Nothing," replied Ferus. Anything else he had to say right now would have been inherently distracting; Anakin didn't need that. Anakin needed to get dressed.

"...O-okay," he conceded. "Okay, I... uh, I'll be right back, then." He wanted more than anything to prod Ferus (it had been a long time since the two had spoken meaningfully), but even he knew the time wasn't right— in less than two hours, he had to be a father.

He could always talk to Ferus later on... couldn't he?

It was too late to ask, because Ferus was already back at work filling up that garbage bag.

Anakin, in retreating back upstairs momentarily, found that Ferus' supposition had been correct: The pants were, indeed, too big; pulling the drawstring tight only seemed to do so much to rectify the issue. It made him feel insecure, but insecurity was just another luxury he didn't have time for today. After combing his hair through with his fingers, he tugged the shirt over his head— unable to keep from noticing that it bore the bright, cheerful emblem of the team they both used to play for.

The team whose practice Ferus is missing right now to help your sorry, drunk ass.

"Shut up. Not now."

Okay— but it's true.

The shirt was about as baggy as the pants, but that was alright. Ferus had always been a litter taller than Anakin, and Anakin had always liked clothes he could hide in. Back in high school— before what had happened to Darra; before he'd ever met Padmé— Ferus' hooded sweatshirts had been some of his favourite things to wear.

He probably still had one or two of them laying around, he thought... but his closet was as much a mess as the lower half of his house; he knew he wouldn't have had time to find one of them, even if he'd tried.

Another day, maybe.

Anakin's next descent into the living room was, to his dismay, marked by a brief-but-intense flash of abject terror: It expanded like fresh ice in his gut as he raced against his own angry body to get to the coffee table, whose spotlessly-clean surface was the source of his disconcert.

Ferus had left the room— presumably to go off and get the vacuum cleaner.

Unsure as to whether he was about to vomit or fall down, Anakin gripped the back of the couch.

"She's fine."

"I— I didn't—"

"I put her up on your bookshelf," said Ferus calmly, approaching Anakin where he stood by the sofa, vacuum in hand. "But... you know you should really get a frame for her, right?" If he'd been annoyed with Anakin for dwelling on the photo before, he wasn't anymore.

Anakin didn't look up from the surface of the coffee table. He didn't know why he was surprised that Ferus seemed to understand what he'd been doing— probably, it was because they hadn't talked about it in so damn long.

That made it even more difficult for him to confess to him, "If I put her in a frame, I... I won't be able to see her name anymore."

"...What?"

"Her name— on the back. She wrote it there for me; if I put it in a frame, I won't be able to flip it over and see it whenever I want."

Ferus was only barely successful in fighting his urge to sigh (later on, he'd be glad he had managed). "Why do you want to 'see' it, Anakin?" he asked. Ferus' voice was, inherently, more sharp than it was soft; he'd never been a gentle speaker, necessarily, but he tried hard to be one right now for his friend's sake. He didn't want his exasperation to show— not the full extent of it. "Why do you want to see Darra?"

"I miss her," said Anakin flatly. He sounded just the way he had when he'd answered the door; as though his words were a pre-programmed response to just the kind of question Ferus was posing him.

"You can't beat yourself up over her forever," Ferus pointed out. "You can't keep beating yourself in the head with this, and expecting—"

"Everyone else does."

"That isn't true! You—"

"Yes it is!" Anakin shouted, even though shouting hurt his head. "Tru and Ben both blame me; so do Darra's friends— and her mom and dad, not to mention everyone else we went to school with!" Anakin finally did look up at Ferus, then. "No one treats me normally anymore," he said, "and they haven't for years."

"You barely treat yourself normally anymore, Anakin!" There was that exasperation he'd been trying so hard to tamp down. "No one knows what to do with you; all we can do anymore is stand by and watch you get worse! You don't let us do anything else!"

"Th-this— this is why I stopped going to hockey," croaked Anakin, surprising even himself with the way his voice caught in his throat. He meant to say more, but he couldn't; his chest had already tightened, and his eyes were rapidly filling up with tears.

Ferus regretted saying anything about the picture at all beyond revealing that it was safe; alas, it seemed too late to remedy that. What was he supposed to say now? Anakin hadn't been able to solve this for ten years; Ferus certainly wasn't about to fix it in the span of a few minutes on a single, panicked, hung-over morning.

If he had that particular superpower, he'd have used it a long time ago.

"I— I'm sorry, Anakin," he tried. "I didn't mean—"

He stopped speaking when he realized that it didn't matter what he 'meant'. Anakin couldn't hear him anymore, because Anakin had started to cry.

When was the last time Ferus had seen Anakin cry?

The tears didn't come quietly; rather, Anakin's sobs made him shudder and heave, grateful he was still gripping the back of the sofa with his hand. When he started to double over anyway, he quickly resigned himself to hitting the floor— nothing he hadn't done before; nothing, even, that Ferus hadn't previously witnessed him do.

The confusion that overtook him when his knees failed to impact the carpeted hardwood was almost enough to shock him out of his fit.

Almost.

"Wh-what— what a-are... y-you—"

"Shh."

"F-Ferus, I— I don't—"

"Quiet," Ferus whispered, unafraid of bearing Anakin's entire weight against his chest. If anything, it was too easy to hold him up. "Just be quiet, alright? I'm sorry I said anything— I'm sorry I ever brought it up."

He felt Anakin shake his head ruefully against his breastbone.

"No," he shouted! muffled, into Ferus' shirt. "No, you— you're right; right about everything, a-and I— I—"

Anakin couldn't seem to finish a sentence; Ferus, for his part, dug his fingers into his old friend's back as a wave of conflicting emotions crashed into him: Relief, first, because this was as honest as the two had been with one another in an exceptionally long time; fear, too, because he didn't know where the hell to go from this point. His phone buzzed from inside his pocket— an alarm, he knew, telling him that hockey practice was starting. It made him jump anyway.

"Anakin," he said, taking an inordinately deep breath in an attempt to maintain his own composure. "Anakin, it's eleven o'clock— your kids are going to be—"

"I know! And if I— i-i-if I c-can't even c-clean up for them, th-then—"

"You can clean up for them, though! I've seen you do it; I've helped you do it!" Carefully, Ferus moved to peel Anakin's head away from his chest. He wanted to look at his face, no matter how difficult it was. Something told him he was going to be seeing a lot more of it, in the weeks and months to follow.

Anakin shook his head again, looking up at Ferus through his own wet hair and tears. "No," he protested. "Not this time! I... I just can't— you're right; it's too bad this time, I need—"

"You need to let me help you, Anakin! Not just help you clean; not just help you hide things from Padmé! You'll let me in long enough to do this," he emphasized, daring to take a hand from Anakin to motion at the room around them, "but you always throw me out before I have a chance to even try to figure out what else you need!" He could feel tears of his own, now; they were gathering at the very edges of his eyes, making him angry at himself. "You do that, and then you get mad at me for not understanding!"

"Ferus—"

"How can I understand?!"

"F— Ferus—"

"How can I?!"

Anakin didn't have an answer for Ferus— not then. How was he supposed to help him understand? After so many years of awkward silence and walking on eggshells, how was he supposed to know how to do anything else?

"I... I don't know. I don't know, Ferus— I'm sorry."

Ferus didn't know either... but once again, it had been years and years since he'd felt so close to finding out. He wanted to sit Anakin down and get him talking; in a very big way, this was the perfect time to do it.

...In a much, much bigger way, though, it truly wasn't— and that was because Anakin had more than just himself to worry about these days.

Ferus had been steeling himself against one thing or another for most of his life: He did it against his own long-repressed empathy and affection just then, telling Anakin with an utterly feigned air of authority, "That's fine— that's fine; you don't have to know right now."

Whether he truly understood his choice or not, Ferus had already decided that he wasn't going to leave today just because Anakin's house was clean. That meant they had plenty of time to figure it out together... as long as Anakin would talk to him later.

He hoped Anakin would talk to him later.

"B-but—"

"No," said Ferus. "No buts. Your kitchen is a mess, there's puke to scrape out of your rug, and your kids are on their way— the only thing you need to know right now is how you want them to see their dad when they get here. Do you understand?"

Anakin's stomach clenched, and he found himself having to repress one final, heaving sob before he could will himself to separate entirely from Ferus... who had, by now, been buttressing him for a rather extended period of time.

He did it, though— he did it, and once he was standing under his own power again, he bit down on his lip and nodded.

"I do," he said. "I... I do."

"Good— then go into the kitchen, and start throwing things out while I take care of your carpet. If we don't stop until we're finished, we might just be able to make this place look okay in time for Luke and Leia."

Hearing his kids' names spoken out loud seemed to be the last little spark Anakin needed to ignite his motivation: He came unstuck from the floor, then... that newly-bare coffee table in front of the couch finally having become a source of relief rather than fear.

Darra is as safe as she's ever going to be, his brain reminded him, far more gently than it had told him anything else that day. Leave her, just for now— Ferus is right.

It seemed he really was... because once Anakin started scraping old food into the trash, loading up his dishwasher, and soaking his pots, he felt significantly more capable than he had when he'd woken up. Not better, necessarily... but certainly more apt, if nothing else.

He'd desperately needed the boost of confidence.

"I still don't know how I'm going to be 'on' for them," he confessed, when the two finally met in the living room to survey the house at the tail-end of their mutual cleaning endeavour. Ferus had just ascended from the basement, having loaded some laundry into the washer; Anakin had just put the finishing touches on the kitchen.

"What do you mean 'on'? They're your kids." Driven purely by old instinct, he took Anakin's hand in his; held it tight. It felt as natural as anything.

Anakin didn't pull away, because why would he have? Ferus hadn't held his hand in years; so many that he'd barely realized how much he'd missed it. He also couldn't help but laugh: Ferus didn't understand, because he didn't have children of his own. "That's exactly it," he said. "They are my kids. They're six years old; they're going to want to talk, play, and have fun... and because I was an idiot all week, I still feel too much like shit to be what they need me to be."

Ferus thought.

"...We could take them to a movie together," he offered tentatively. That fake authority he'd been injecting into his voice back before Anakin had begun to come around was all but gone, right along with his own initial desire to leave.

If anything, he was now far more frightened of being sent away than he was at the notion of staying behind to help.

"You can sit in the dark for a little while," he went on, when Anakin didn't answer him right away. "And drink some water, too. I'll do the driving, and the kids will think it's all for fun; by the time we get back here, you'll feel a lot better." With his eyes instead of his mouth, Ferus added to that, If you're as tired as you look, you can even rest your head on my shoulder for a while and try to fall asleep— just like you always used to. Few things had felt better to Ferus, back when he'd still been nineteen.

Anakin was a bit slow sometimes, but he wasn't stupid: He more than understood. Although he smiled, Ferus' offer was nearly enough to start him crying again; the only thing that stopped it was a noise— one that seemed sudden, but really wasn't.

He turned his head, because he could hear the gravel in the driveway crunching beneath the tires of what he already knew to be his ex-wife's little green sedan. (It did not escape him that the sound would never have wafted through the front window so clearly, had Ferus not had the prescience to open it when he'd arrived.)

"...Ferus," he said, voice catching in his throat yet again as somebody outside opened and shut one of the car's doors. "I... I think a movie is a good idea, but I— I... I'm also still sorry for—"

"Don't be." Ferus squeezed Anakin's hand one last time, then released it in favour of motioning towards the front door, as if to usher him in its direction. "You don't have time for 'sorry' right now, remember?"

Anakin nodded. "...Still," he said, grasping the knob, "I know I need to make this up to you, and I will— I promise."

Briefly, Ferus paused to think. "...If you really want to make it up to me," he proposed with an admittedly sly smile, "then you can do it by coming to the game on Wednesday. How does that sound?" He felt especially satisfied with himself, because he knew Anakin didn't have time to argue with him. Besides— during their initial phone conversation, he had promised to do 'anything' in return for Ferus' help.

"I— Ferus, you know I haven't been to the arena in—"

Just then, there was a knock at the door: It was quick and enthusiastic, almost certainly belonging to either Luke or Leia (but probably Luke).

Anakin half-sighed, and— feeling for all intents and purposes as though he didn't have any other options available to him— reluctantly agreed to Ferus' condition. "...Fine," he said, "I'll come by, but I really don't think—"

It didn't matter what Anakin thought, though, because he'd already begun to open the door... and as soon as the gap was wide enough for Luke and Leia to slide in past one another, they did: Calling out greetings to both their dad and to their newly-grinning 'uncle' Ferus beside him— whose presence, of course, they didn't think twice about as they bounded into the freshly-tidied living room, immediately taking it upon themselves to make it their own.

They had no idea what it (or their dad) had looked like mere hours before... and now, thanks to Ferus, they wouldn't have to. All Luke and Leia needed to know about their dad today was that he loved them, and (hockey or no hockey) Ferus was going to make sure that his love for them was all they got to see this weekend.

Anything else he and Anakin needed to worry about, they could worry about it later on— together, the way they always should have.

#anakin x ferus #anakin skywalker #ferus olin #modern au #jedi quest #alcoholism #drunk driving #angst #happy ending

[angellesword]

SAVE ME | KTH (14)

Summary: You were determined to kill yourself, but what would happen when instead of ending your life, you ended up summoning the devil of death?

Alternatively:

The Devil: I’m here to ruin you, I’m here to save you.

Genre: Demon au, e2l, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Devil!Taehyung x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: stabbing (this is the last time promise) kissing, oral sex (m. receiving.)

Note: Guys if you can, please listen to Samson by Regina Spektor while reading this update.

SERIES: CHAPTER 13 | FINAL CHAPTER (15)

"No. It's not enough."

His response was like a broken record, it kept playing inside your head.

It was too much—too painful.

You had to leave now. You had to leave before your tears started to fall.

It was too late.

Hot tears cascaded down your face as you pushed him away, refusing to be caged any longer.

You didn't know if he saw you cry.

Maybe he did.

Maybe that's the reason why he tried to stop you from leaving.

"It will never be enough." He paused for a second just to swallow thickly, "because kissing you isn't greed in the first place."

It worked.

You halted your steps, slowly turning to face him.

When you looked at him a few breaths ago, you felt like you were being burnt.

You even turned into ashes.

However, that feeling changed when he brought out his phone. He was talking to his virtual assistant while looking directly at you.

"Hey PD-nim," he started.

You and Taehyung were only five feet away from each other.

"What does it mean when someone is always in your thoughts? When you're sad when she's sad? When you have this...strong desire to touch her—no." He shook his head as if the last thing he uttered was completely wrong.

"I mean...it's fine if I can't always hug her or hold her hand. I guess I just want to be near her...to feel the comfort and warmth she's emitting,"

Taehyung chuckled lightly. His smile was big, eyes crinkling.

"I also want to stay alive," his eyes suddenly darkened, causing your heart to sink.

"It's not because I want to save myself..."

You felt like you couldn't breathe as you waited for the next words he's about to say.

"But because I want to protect her."

Again, you turned into ashes—

"I'm one hundred percent sure that feeling is called love," the virtual assistant answered.

—but like a phoenix, you rose again.

"You are in love with her."

Taehyung wasted no time when he heard PD-nim's response.

He closed the gap between you two. The fire in his eyes was scorching, it was the only thing that could melt your cold, cold heart.

"Our first kiss doesn't mean greed," Taehyung cupped both of your cheeks.

He was done pretending. He was done trying to be logical.

It was time to admit the truth.

"It means love."

When he said this, you felt like the missing piece of the puzzle was finally found, completing the gap in your heart.

Everything made sense now.

Taehyung still needed to tempt people because he didn't satisfy his capital vice in the first place.

Greed was a sin.

Loving you was redemption.

Unfortunately, he couldn't be saved by the love he felt for you.

Love was a good thing and Taehyung was evil.

His sole purpose in this world was to spread hatred and bitter meanings.

He wouldn't survive by doing good deeds.

"Y-You know..." Of course you would stutter just as when you thought you could finally voice out what you felt.

Regardless of this, you still tried to speak.

"I was hesitating to tell you how I feel about you." You weren't lying.

When you realized what Taehyung had done to the girl at the flower shop, you thought that maybe you made a mistake.

Perhaps you didn't have feelings for him. Maybe you were just caught up with how perfect his mouth felt when it was crashing against yours, or maybe, just maybe, you were deceived by him again.

You were in denial.

You knew you weren't perfect. You had hurt so many people before—even now.

But it was all unintentional.

Taehyung was the only one who hurt people deliberately.

You hated this about him.

But as said, his confession changed your mindset.

Some people were forced to do things they didn't want to do because they needed to survive.

You knew this all along; however, you didn't fully understand it.

The missing puzzle you were talking about was what made you understand.

Some people were forced to do things they didn't want to do because they needed to survive, and that's okay. We just have to find grace with our decision.

"But you made it so easy, you know?" You weren't stuttering anymore. You even found the courage to also caress his cheeks.

Taehyung closed his eyes, relishing your soft touch.

"How can I deny my own feelings when the one who isn't supposed to feel anything sincerely admitted what he feels for me?"

Taehyung pouted his lips.

"I've been in this world since the beginning of time, love." He was saying that he saw how things started and ended.

He knew that the main reason why people were miserable was because they refused to accept things as they were.

They lied, always underestimating or overestimating things.

Taehyung didn't want to repeat the mistakes of people. He rather named his emotions than lose you for not doing it when he had the chance.

"I asked this device—" he raised his phone in the air "—to tell you how I feel because I thought you won't believe a devil like me."

You nodded in understanding. You were blinded by anger just a short while ago.

You really believed that he wanted to hurt people for fun.

"But I do, okay? I do love you and it scares me."

You could see in his eyes that he was truly frightened.

You bit your lip, allowing him to explain further.

"I'm not scared of loving you even if it's new to me. What frightens me is your reaction. I-I have no idea if you're going to accept me..."

It hurt when he looked away from you.

"Tae, listen to me..." You gently grabbed his chin, urging him to look at you.

"We're both scared. As in hella terrified." You laughed as you told him that Ji-hyo was actually the one who convinced you to talk to him.

Your best friend claimed that running away wouldn't do you any good, but for you, running away from your problem was easier. You could play thousands of scenarios inside your head, wondering what could have been if you only confronted him.

Facing your problem was the complete opposite of this. When you confronted him, there would only be one answer.

The answer was final. It couldn't be twisted. You wouldn't be allowed to imagine scenarios in your head because you already knew the right answer.

You wouldn't be able to escape it even if you wanted to. At least with the thousand scenarios, you could still change it if it turned out that you didn't like how it was playing inside your fucked up head.

But you were glad.

You were glad that you decided to face your dilemma.

You were glad that you were now nodding your head as Taehyung asked if he could kiss you.

"You don't have to ask, silly." You grabbed his face, initiating the kiss.

Taehyung giggled in between the intimate act.

He liked this feeling better. He liked kissing you in this narrow alley. He liked kissing you now that he was free.

The only thing he didn't like was when the counter pager inside your pocket buzzed, indicating that the dumplings you ordered were now ready to be picked up.

"Damn," Taehyung's nose wrinkled right after you pulled away from the kiss. "I wanna keep kissing you."

He was acting like a child, making you laugh.

"You can kiss me later." You winked at him as you pulled him towards the dumpling store.

You and Taehyung ended up eating one dozens of mandu while watching some boring netflix show.

You called it boring since you weren't really paying attention. Your mind (and heart) were busy fooling around with Taehyung.

"You feel so good," Taehyung grunted, eyes darkening as he watched you suck him off.

You were kneeling between his legs, looking so sexy and small. He swore his hard cock was bigger than your face.

You enjoyed rubbing it on your cheek before wrapping your tiny hands around his shaft.

You gave him a few pumps before taking him in your sweet, sweet mouth.

Taehyung kept his hands at the back of his head, allowing you to take control.

This was already so difficult for him. Touching you would only drive him crazy.

Joke's on him because he was already crazy. God. You were amazing. His stomach was contracting when you pressed the flat of your tongue over his tip, gathering his precum until it stained your mouth.

You sank your mouth down his full length, not stopping until your forehead hit his pelvis.

Taehyung's head fell back against the couch. You wanted to focus on his pretty face, but the tears in your eyes made it hard.

"Ah,"

Your pretty moans were what pushed him over the edge. He exploded in your mouth without a warning.

"You're lucky I can swallow," you chortled, attempting to wipe the remnant of his load on the corner of your mouth.

Taehyung grabbed your face lightly, stopping you from doing so.

He leaned closer to kiss you, tasting himself as he whispered "Wanna make you feel good too..."

Taehyung scooped you up, making you sit on his lap.

"Please," he kissed the base of your throat while you grind on his cock.

You shook your head.

"This all about you, Tae..." Your words were in contrast to what you really felt. Taehyung could feel how wet you were through your soaked underwear.

You wanted this. You wanted him so much. This wasn't about you. He was the one who deserved to feel good. He had been through a lot.

"Trust me, baby. I'm on cloud nine right now," the corner of his mouth quirked up before sucking bruises on your neck.

"R-Really," you whimpered, running your hands through his soft locks. "Is that why I'm on cloud nine too?"

You remembered your conversation with him from almost a year ago. His life was connected to yours and vice versa. You couldn't breathe when he was mad, and now that the pleasure was overwhelming him, you felt really good as well.

What he felt, you felt too. Taehyung froze upon remembering this.

"What's the matter?" The lust consuming you instantly boiled down to confusion.

Why did the devil look like something epic just hit him right in the face?

"I meant this in the sweetest way possible," Taehyung touched your back.

The scissors tattooed on your shoulder blade materialized in front of him. He was spent. He couldn't use his power after this anymore.

Taehyung was holding the black scissors now.

"Can you please stab yourself?"

The normal reaction should be to freak out—to get mad. However things were different today.

You understood what he meant.

He was testing a theory.

And so you participated.

Heaving a deep sigh, you stabbed your palm using the scissors.

You yelped in pain.

Taehyung held you, kissing your forehead.

It hurt. It hurt a lot.

But you didn't know what hurt the most.

Was it your injured hand? Or was it the fact that Taehyung's palm wasn't bleeding like yours?

It only meant one thing.

"Our lives aren't connected anymore." He confirmed what you already knew.

You were aware that you should be rejoicing. You were finally free. He was finally free.

"I can go back to hell now..."

There was no reason for him to stay here. He simply went to the world of the living to protect you and to tempt people. Doing the latter only took a short period of time.

Taehyung always went back to hell right after corrupting the minds of humans.

In hell, he was safe.

If he was there, he wouldn't have to tempt innocent people just to survive. Hell was his home, it was where his powers became stronger.

"Yeah," your response was too late.

Silence was engulfing you for quite some time now. You were in a state of shock when he said that he could go back to hell any moment from now.

He had no reason to be with you.

"I have all the reason to be with you," but Taehyung believed otherwise.

He didn't want to leave you alone. He just admitted he loved you. He couldn't love you and then decided to leave you.

"Don't be silly, Tae." You buried your face in his chest so that he couldn't see the tears forming in your eyes.

"You have to go. You served your purpose already. You save me,"

You were no longer suicidal. You felt a lot better now. His presence helped you a lot. He made you realize so many things.

"The best thing to do is to leave me."

"But it's not the right thing to do..." His jaw tensed as he embraced you.

"I don't want you to die, Tae." You hugged him back. "I can't let my selfishness become your downfall."

You are my sweetest downfall. He wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut.

He didn't want to die too.

Dying meant he wouldn't be able to see you again.

He had to save himself so that he could continue to love you.

Taehyung loved you.

He kissed you once more just to show it to you.

You kissed him back to imply that you also loved him.

The kiss wasn't like the first time. It wasn't the same as the second kiss too.

This time, the kiss felt more intimate, hungrier, hotter...

He kissed you like it was the last time he would be allowed to do so.

"I love you, Taehyung..." You cooed, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He didn't respond. He only kissed you deeper.

He brought you to his bedroom.

You let your bodies talk. The tension and the frustration were released through kissing your complexion.

Taehyung made love to you to make up with the time you lost and the time you would be losing.

He had accepted his fate.

"How does it feel to be there?" You asked as he collapsed beside you.

"In hell?" Taehyung moved closer to you, embracing your naked body.

You nodded.

He was silent for a while, like he found it hard to answer your question.

Moments later, he finally spoke.

"It feels like everything is..." He stared at the white ceiling of the room, "dead."

It was your turn to keep your lips sealed.

Your heart was aching, luckily Taehyung knew the right words to make you feel better.

"But here, I feel alive..."

It was reassuring to think that you were one of the reasons why he felt happy to be here.

But here, I feel alive... you kept repeating these words inside your head until you fell asleep.

You liked to think that you had a good sleep.

But you wished you didn't sleep because when you woke up, he wasn't by your side anymore.

#taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #demon taehyung #devil taehyung #taehyung demon au #taehyung devil au #taehyung roommate #taehyung roommate au #taehyung fantasy au #taehyung fantasy #taehyung x yn #taehyung x you #taehyung x oc #taehyung x reader #ficswithluv #taehyung enemies to lovers #taehyung e2l

[trutimeline]

idislikecispeople, The Most Infamous Dyscourse Blogger: Part 1.0, Rumors

idislikecispeople, also known as many names throughout her time on Tumblr (such as Adele, Kat, Mami, Samantha and Sayaka), was a former Tumblr blogger who became infamous for coining the term "tucute", among many other controversial things she has posted on her blogs. This was supposed to be one, very long masterpost about her, but Tumblr's post editor is a bitch and won't let me do that.

In this post, I'll be debunking or confirming rumors commonly spread about idislikecispeople. The rest of my posts about her will each be dedicated to a specific controversial belief she held or situations she got into. For simplicity's sake, I'll be referring to idislikecispeople as Kat for the rest of this post and future ones.

Rumors

Kat Coined the Terms "Truscum" and "Tucute"

Verdict: Partially True

Kat coined the term tucute, but she did not coin the terms truscum or transmedicalist.

Here's a screenshot of Kat's original definition of a tucute:

Transcript:

What is Tucute?

What does tucute mean?

Tucute is basically just the opposite of truscum, it’s a term and community for trans, nonbinary, and/or non-cis individuals created to separate anti-truscum from truscum and to serve as a safe place from truscum and from cis people, where they believe that being trans requires dysphoria, we do not,where they think that being trans is a medical condition, we do not,and where they deny numerous gender identities on the basis that it “discredits the trans community” we do not.

What are the prerequisites to be a part of the tucute community?

You have to be trans, nonbinary, and/or non-cis in general

You have to accept all pronouns and gender identities

You haveto believe that dysphoria is not necessary to be trans

You have to dislike truscum

You cannot side with truscum or believe in their ideology

You cannot misgender anyone no matter how mad they make you

You cannot be an ableist whatsoever

Did you invent the tucute community? Why?

I indeed did coin the tucute term and community and anyone who says otherwise are creeps who are trying to steal it from me and redefine it for their own nefarious doings. I started this community so anti-truscum could separate themselves from truscum and cis people who are a part of the truscum community, it serves as a safe space from both truscum and cis people.

I’m cis, can I be tucute if I believe in your movement and want to help?

No, you can’t be tucute if you’re cis, you can only be a tucute ally, and you need to be sure to never speak for or over a trans person.

I see a lot of tucuties being just as harmful as truscum, what will you do about it?

There isn’t much I can do to them other than ask them to stop aligning with the tucute community, and of course, that doesn’t mean they will. Also be noted that truscum and cis people will pretend to be tucute just to tarnish the name of the tucute community, so tread lightly, you might be talking to a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Spread the word, use the tag #tucute and join the army today!

[A digital drawing of Sayaka Miki from Puella Magi Madoka Magica in her magical girl form, with a banner underneath her reading "Tucute 4 U!"]

(source) (source)

Kat Was a Cisgender Woman Who Lied About Being a Transgender Woman

Verdict: False

This rumor primarily comes from a post on Kat's oldest known Tumblr blog, chromaghost, where she claims that she wasn't MTF and only tagged a selfie as such because she thought that transgender people were "cool".

Transcript:

Anonymous asked: are you a mtf? i seen it tagged on one of your photos.

No lol. I wanted to post it to the tag because transgender people are cool :3

(source) (source) (source)

However, Kat addressed this post and made it clear she very much was a transgender woman multiple times on her later blogs. This claim can also be confirmed with nude photos Kat posted online, which I don't feel comfortable spreading, so you'll just have to trust me on that one. I also don't feel comfortable directly encouraging you to go and dig up those nudes, as most of her nude photos were either taken when she was a minor, spread without her consent and/or were uploaded because people pressured her into posting nudes to "prove" she was a transgender woman.

Transcript:

Anonymous asked: you bound with ace bandage in one of your selfies. i don't know what to think about you anymore. according to some people you're a 27 year old cis woman scamming us, but you say you're a 22 year old trans woman. i want to trust you but i don't know if i can. i'm sorry.

Rest assured I’m not 27 years old lol. What you’re referring to is a less than graceful ~art piece~ we did (”Playing a Boy” or something) on deviantART when we were 16/17 (?) and really ill-informed. I ask you to not take that as how I stand currently – as I have learned so much more since, and I have a penis and I was designated male at birth because of it (feel free to purchase a passcode to our nsfw blog to see for yourself). At the time we were developing breast tissue but still had to appear as a ‘boy.’ Don’t bind with Ace bandages, kids, it can damage your rib cage, something we didn’t know at the time.

(source) (source)

Transcript:

[A picture of two prescriptions, estradiol and spironolactone, both prescribed to Adele Sheffield.]

grandtran still gonna think I photoshopped it or what

(source)

Transcript:

Anonymous asked: In other words, you aren't gonna cough up the pics because you know you can't fake that shit because you're actually cis. Cool. BTW why do you keep changing your story about the blog, and if the blog was run by you when you were in denial about being trans because of self hate, why were the pics tagged mtf and you were constantly saying trans people were cool?

Yeah I’m not gonna do something for y’all and get nothing in return except more doubt from you, you see how one sided that kind of request is? Also its technically considered sexual harassment, just because its on the internet, you’re a coward (whats your username btw?), and you think I’m cis and you want me to prove time and time again to you that I’m dmab doesn’t justify sexually soliciting someone when they’re not comfortable in being solicited – for free no less.

At first I genuinely had no memory of that blog, it was only active for all of 2 months and for some reason I moved onto a new email and new tumblr, and I haven’t the foggiest why. As for the whole “me claiming to not be ~mtf~” I don’t have any memories from that time, I can only assume it was a lot of dysphoria fueled self-hatred and wanting to be seen/pass as a cis girl lesbian.

If you’re really gonna solicit nudes from a trans woman (a second time) as they do sex work to try and stay on their feet without offering anything in return just so your transmisogynistic ass can get off to trying to tell me my dick is fake isn’t classy at all. I perish the thought of what you’re parents would think of this behavior from you. But yeah, feel free to send some money to my paypal so I can get the gender markers on my records changed because that’s gonna cost a lot apparently, and I’ll definitely send you the dick pics you want. :)

(source) (source) (source)

Transcript:

[A picture of a a hospital bracelet on Kat's wrist. The patient's name is Adele Sheffield and her sex is labeled as "M".]

(source)

Kat Lied About Having Diabetes To Get Money From Tumblr Users

Verdict: False

This doesn't need much commentary from me, just view the screenshots below.

Transcript:

To the people who keep harping on me buying a $15 video game for my mental health 7 MONTHS ago “with my donation money,” well, here you go, some proof, links and screenshots provided

So for everyone spreading misinformation about me spending $15 on a video game for my mental health, here’s a full list of reasons why there is no way, shape, or form I spent my paypal money on it:

Yes, I spent $15 of my own money after selling one of my possessions, not denying it:

[A screenshot of a Tumblr post by Kat where she shows off a copy of Fall Out: New Vegas, marked with a price of $14.99. The date of the post is marked as July 21, 2014 at 06:28.39 PM.]

Be sure to look at the date, July 21st, 2014 6:28 PM. Now lets look at my first donation post asking for help:

[A screenshot of a Tumblr post by Kat where she asks for donations to be able to afford insulin because she has no insurance. The date of the post is marked as July 20, 2014 at 08:14.00 PM.]

Hmm, one day before the purchase of said game, July 20th 2014 at 8:14 PM. Now, I’ve never heard of a video game store — much less a non-chain video game store accepting payment for video games in the form of virtual Amazon gift cards, have you? Oh, but you’re gonna say, “well you bought the game with your paypal donations anyway!” Well, here’s exhibit C:

[Another screenshot of a separate post made by Kat where she is also asking for donations to be able to afford insulin. The date of the post is marked as July 23, 2014 at 12:27.46 PM.]

Again, looking at the date of this posting which is the original donations post, you can see it was posted on July 23rd, 2014 at 12:27 PM, a full 2 days after I had bought the game. Now, if there’s no way for me to use Amazon gift cards for a real life video game store, then how can I go back in time a minimum of 2 full days to give past me $15 to buy said game, hm? This isn’t even accounting for the fact that I didn’t even have my own bank account associated with it until over a week later, and it surely doesn’t account for the fact that it takes up to 5 days to transfer from paypal to your bank account. All the dates are linked to the original unedited posts so you can see for yourself, and for added measure my first deposit was on August 14th, 2014:

[A screenshot of a deposit made by Kat. The date is marked as 08/14/14.]

Oh but yeah, anti-sjs, truscum, and the like took damniwishidthoughtofabettername’s postthey used to gaslight us with misinformation and you all bought it. Tell me how I could misuse donations that I could not use outside of Amazon and money I didn’t even start receiving until a full two days later, let alone the fact that there’s no way I could have transferred said money and used it two days prior as of the date of the paypal donations post.

I hope some of y’all could reblog this and get the word out, I’m sick and tired of people buying into that misinformation that person did solely to gaslight me as a means to try and disrupt my donations drive.

(source) (source) (source) (source) (source) (source) (source)

Transcript:

[A selfie of Kat holding up a vial of Novolin to the camera.]

Hey anon, I don’t feel comfy giving you my receipts (because doxxing is a thing) but here you go, a selfie with my most recent insulin purchase. 👽

(source) (source) (source) (source) (source) (source) (source)

Transcript:

Anonymous asked: Getting desperate for money again I see. How is your fake diabetes lately. I bet your blood sugar is like 800 this time and you're still able to be alive somehow.

You got me, I’m ~totally faking~

[A selfie of Kat. In the background several items used by diabetics are seen such as insulin syringes, glucose tablets, a blood sugar tester and test strips.]

[A picture that gives us a closer look at the background of the previous selfie.]

[A selfie of Kat holding up two vials, one of Lantus and the other of Humalog.]

Gee, must be one dedicated faker, right? To have hundreds of dollars of insulin equipment and insulin itself. Hmmm… Insulin syringes, glucose tablets, a blood sugar tester and test strips.. oh and insulin, hmmmm….

Oh and because you didn’t learn from last time you don’t die instantly when your blood sugar goes over 600 lol, something anyone who studies endocrinology can tell you, and I would know, being a diabetic, having to be hospitalized numerous times for ketoacidosis where the blood sugar has been too high for too long. Things you clearly do not know and you’re just jumping on the disableist bandwagon. I have an idea of who you are anyway, just doing this for future reference.

(source)

#idislikecispeople #dyscourse #transmed #truscum #tucute

[hinatastinygiant]

Infiltration - Twenty Six

ATSUMU'S P.O.V.

Ever since Kita last spoke, the room was silent. His words explaining what had happened in the car accident- that Ojiro, Riseki, and Y/N are dead- left us all absolutely speechless. I drop down on my knees, my mouth wide open although no words flow out. I can't believe it... I swore that I would protect her.

"I'll get you. I promise, Y/N. No matter what."

I even heard her call out for me after I ran away. Why did I have to go? I should have stayed with her.

"She's dead..." my voice lets out in a low hum, hoping that if I reiterated what Kita said that someone would tell me I misheard him.

Omimi pats my shoulder. "Don't really know what you saw in her, bud, but I'm sorry."

I nod, trying to think of literally anything to say back, reassuring him that I'm fine. But why should I even bother? It hurts so much and I'm not fine.

"Get over it 'Tsumu," Kita's cold voice interrupts whatever I was going to say, piercing right through my ears.

"Get over it?!" I groan, "I would have given my own life for her, you asshole! I'll fucking kill Ushi-"

"Good, then we're on the same page," Kita nods as he turns away from me and walks to his desk. He sits down and calmly types something in on his laptop; it pisses me off how carelessly he's acting. Ojiro and Riseki died, too.

"I'm arranging for another meeting," he hums to the group as he continues typing. "We may not have our leverage this time but I'll make sure we get our rights of Sakusa... and blood returned for Ojiro and Riseki, of course."

I watch as the others begin to crowd around Kita, watching carefully as he sets up the virtual conference. As much as I'd rather see Ushijima's face in person, (and tear it apart) I walk over to Kita's right side and wait for the call to go through.

When the Shiratorizawa Boss answers, he is stone cold. He doesn't even seem to have shed a tear over the girl he was so set on getting back. As he speaks to Kita so calmly, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, my knuckles turn white in my hand.

"Let's talk about this in person," Ushijima nods, "it's easier to discuss the specifics that way."

"I agree," Kita replies plainly. "Do you have a place in mind?"

"That club you went to for your first meeting with Sakusa. It's neutral land there, is it not? When would you like to meet?"

"Now!" my voice booms- I couldn't hold it back any longer. I'll be ready with my guns to shoot him in the head the first chance I get.

"Calm down, Miya," Kita says formally as he throws his hand up for me to stop speaking. "I do apologize for that."

"It's quite alright. I can be ready by ten o'clock tonight if you'd like."

"That's perfect," Kita nods. "We'll see you then."

With that, Kita ends the call. He turns around to face us, eyeing me specifically for a moment. "Get ready," he speaks loud enough for us all to hear, "he's not protected in there, though I don't want any of you making a move without my word."

After his speech, I storm out of the room. I faintly hear my brother call to me and catch the eye of Suna who's staring me down for some other unknown reason. He's probably glad Y/N's out of the picture- or not since 'Samu and I can't argue about her anymore. Either way, I don't care enough to stop and think about it now. I'm going to get my revenge.

USHIJIMA'S P.O.V.

That little blond-haired brat looked like he was going to pee himself, I chuckle to myself after hanging up the phone with Kita. I suppose they're all pissed off about the car incident, though. Good thing I've already taken care of that issue.

In all honesty, I don't care about how Inarizaki is feeling right now. I know they're going to try and kill me when we meet up tonight, but it's the least of my concern. Just like my operation into Inarizaki was- a success (since we got Y/N back even though the rest of the plan didn't go exactly how I wanted)- this one will be, too.

"Tendou," I call to my trusted friend, "can you bring in Nori for me?"

"Sure, boss," he says with a smile before skipping out of the room. He returns a little while later with the short, green-haired girl donning a tired and puzzled expression.

"Nori," I nod as she walks into the room, "my apologies for calling you up despite your recent return, but I'd like to borrow you for a little while if that's okay."

"Of course," she hums in agreement.

"First, have you seen Y/N since you got back?" I ask hoping that she'll say no.

"I have not."

Tendou scoffs at her response. "Good," he tells her, "it'll shock ya. She's kinda different now. Someone probably got to her when she was-"

"Don't," I interrupt. "Y/N if just fine, I assure you, Nori." Though I'm trying to maintain a relaxed appearance around the girl, it's proving to be a bit difficult when Tendou reminds me of that Inarizaki irritation. "Please, just don't speak with her until after your job."

"Will do," she says with a bow, "whatever you say, I am sure it's for the best, boss. Please let me know what you would like me to do."

"Recently I bought a piece of property that I'd like you to work a shift at tonight," I tell her before turning to Tendou. "Gather the others. Akakura will set up a live stream into this room when Nori and I are there. Be sure everyone watches, it will be interesting, to say the least."

"You got it," Tendou says, giving me a thumbs-up before walking out of the room.

I then turn back to Nori, a slight frown on my face as I begin to reiterate my plan to her, including details on the irritation.

"That is what you're going to do..."

Infiltration Masterlist

#atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu x y/n #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu self insert #y/n #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #haikyuu x female reader #x fem!reader #hinatastinygiant #fanfiction series #ao3 #wattpad

[myatuesday]

I'm just... anxious. And worried.

And have this feeling of impending doom again.

But, like, nothing is happening. Technically.

-

I mean, the Cancer.

But it's not the Cancer.

Sigh.

Minus the needing to get pregnant, like, NOW thing.

-

I think it's all this Covid bullshit.

I have Covid fatigue. For sure.

Also, as a non-vaccinated person

Um... I'm basically a Leper.

I can't do shit.

And... I'm nervous. About getting Covid. Still.

But I'm not going to get the vaccine.

So... I'm fucked either way.

-

I'm worried about money.

Sigh

So... that's kindof nerve-wracking.

Nothing I can do about that.

-

I think...

Part of me hates being fucking single

This might be the longest I've ever been single,

Other than like... when I was in my early 20s and actually had friends.

Sigh

It's not the single part

It's the no oxytocin part

I've had no physical human contact in...

How fucking long?

A month? Two months?

-

I'm looking forward to being alone in my solace once I move, but...

I'm going to have to get an animal so I don't fucking slit my wrists.

-

Sigh

-

I just hate feeling like this

I should be excited and I'm not.

I'm fucking anxious. (In the bad way)

I don't want to be anxious.

-

I thought I'd feel relief after the surgery

And I don't

I still have fucking Cancer

And have no idea what to do now

-

I mean, hopefully, it'll all be better when I move

Maybe everything will be ok

And be different then

I'm just scared.

Mostly about money, I guess.

Sigh.

Security, as always, I guess.

It always comes down to security.

Sigh.

-

I stayed with that POS for 4 years, hoping for fucking security. And... I'm no better off than when I started.

I'm back at square one + even more gigantic trust issues and more fucking trauma. Awesome.

I fucking hate that kid.

His bullshit is making me... on edge too.

Idk why. We have virtually nothing to do w eachother anymore.

Yet, he keeps disappointing me. Sigh.

I shouldn't let him.

Smh.

-

At least all that bullshit will go away once I'm gone.

Surely.

-

The emotion is still there tho.

That... surely I didn't invest myself for 4 fucking years and go through torture and agony and all the Hell I did... for someone who doesn't even give a fuck about me, right? Surely I didn't do that.

Smh.

But, yeah I did. I just fn did.

Sigh.

And I need to get the fuck over it.

And just take the L.

Not expect someone who never gave a fuck about me to give a fuck.

-

He talks to me most days.

Acts nice to me.

Offers to do all this shit.

Everything but what I want

What I care about

Just... selfish bullshit, as usual

Self serving bullshit

He doesn't give a fuck about anything but not losing me. But isn't actually doing shit to...

It doesn't even matter.

Sigh.

I know it's not about me.

I cognitively know that.

Doesn't make his CONSISTENT complete lack of effort and throwing away every opportunity to actually like... prove he gives a fuck about me, sigh, any fucking easier.

Smh.

I fucking hate it.

And if I wasn't scared of him on some level, idk what I would do. Cause I just don't care anymore.

Him losing everything (if he even has. Idk. Who knows? Not like I can trust literally a solitary... not even word, but even just an utterance...a fucking breath, that comes out of that assholes fucking mouth.) ...

If he has lost everything. It's still not enough.

I've never wanted to just completely destroy someone more. He just... kindof has nothing to destroy.

Because everything he has, he's already fucked up himself. Or... he just has nothing. Because... he is nothing.

So I shouldn't care. But... it's just human nature.

Of course you want to hurt someone as bad as they hurt you. But, with him, it's impossible for so many reasons.

You can't really hurt a sociopathic loser.

I could kill him. But that would be doing him a favor.

So... what the fuck ever.

-

But I'm having all these nightmares again

And waking up like in a panic

And... I think it's him.

Idk.

It's a lot of things.

But it's hard to be FURIOUS at someone.

Literally fucking furious.

And not really be able to do a goddamn thing about it.

I just want to set his house on fire.

But he doesn't have one. So

Fuck me.

Smh.

-

All I can do is stop letting it bother me.

I just gave him a shot this week

Cause he's constantly ACTING like he is trying to make shit up to me or idk... some shit. Acting being the key word.

But I'm like ok... if you really give a fuck, do this.

And it's the most simple thing ever.

And nothing. He did nothing.

So... he can fully go fuck himself.

I can tell by his snapchat score he's already busy fucking up another bitches life anyway. Her mind, at least, if it's Amber. Who knows. Then, of course, lying to me about it.

I just... sigh.

I want him to suffer. And he's not.

I lost everything.

Then got Cancer, as a grand fucking finale.

And he just gets to live his fucking life

As tho nothing happened.

Yeah. Of course it's giving my fucking nightmares and stress dreams.

-

I hate that motherfucker.

___

Overall, I just have nothing to bring me joy

I hate my home life. To put it mildly.

Uh... I'm fucking broke. So I can't buy happiness anymore.

I don't want to be near anyone because I fucking hate people by now and don't trust anybody or myself, pretty much, so I can't fucking fuck anyone. (I can't fuck anyone, doctor's orders anyway)

My best escape is just getting out

This just isn't what I had in mind.

-

Everything was different back in August. When I decided to do all the things. To make all the changes. And leave.

Before Cancer fucked me out of everything.

Smh.

I should've just left then.

Again. My mom's fault. SC's fault.

And my fault for staying for the aforementioned reasons.

-

I fucking hate everything.

-

And, yeah, my heart is broken over Chad

I was dumb enough or hopeful enough to think maybe he'd come around.

He breadcrumbs me enough. Sigh.

-

So... idk.

Of course I'm anxious.

Or... idk. Generally fucking misanthropic.

A lot of fucking things.

-

I really wish I had more money

It would make all this a lot easier

_

Also... Johnny called me at 330am about a week ago. 2 weeks after my surgery date. Drunk. Of course.

Talking about... I bought plane tickets to Egypt. You want a cat?

Sigh.

I'm over that shit too.

_

I mean... luckily

It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything.

-

Hopefully I can

And

I will

And all the rest was just bullshit leading me to this moment and the rest of my fucking hopefully much better fucking life.

Sigh.

That's all I can hope for.

And hopefully the nightmares will stop in the meantime. And I can breath a little. Please.

[stormy-boy]

After the whole poster discovery and the disaster with his blankie, Jackson is extremely embarrassed. He can't even look at Lightning straight. The older racer probably thought of him as nothing more than a little kid now. Ugh! And he was so damn nice about the last one too! Why?! Maybe Gale could provide some advice on how he could sort out his feelings?

Whenever he was faced with conflicting feelings, Jackson Storm only knew of one way to vent his frustrations—by racing. On the simulator, of course. Why practice on a real track when you had the ease and comfort of the experience in a virtual world?

210… 211… Storm watched his speed fluctuate on the monitor with his thoughts. Why did McQueen care what happened to him? Did the veteran feel like he was doing him a solid by taking him under his wing? That by doing this, he was being a good Samaritan? After Storm was so malicious to him too… 210… 205…  No! He didn’t feel guilty about all that. That was just the way he weeded out competition. Not even McQueen would be exempt from his ruthless mind games… 205… 203… The old racer probably looked down on him now. Thought he was nothing more than a silly, emotionally unstable fanboy with deep-set personal issues that forever prevented him from reaching his full potential as an individual. As if! 203… 209… So he wanted to teach him, huh? Teach him how to be like him? How to be all nice to his fans, and modest about his abilities? How to be supportive and loving to other people? Ha! What a joke!

Storm crossed the finish line, the waving checkered flags reflecting off his dull, grey eyes. Another win…. McQueen did seem happy, though… Storm closed his eyes, attempting to banish the various thoughts beating around in his head. Maybe he should consider McQueen’s offer… No! Well, what did he have to lose? His dignity: that’s what!

Storm groaned to himself in frustration, rolling off the simulator console feeling like he didn’t race at all. If blowing off some steam like this didn’t help him figure out what to do, what could?

Storm caught sight of his hauler, Gale, cruising into the IGNTR center from the other end of the facility. Maybe it wasn’t what could help him, but who…

The grey racer rode over to Gale, rehearsing his lines in his head. He had to be careful about how he worded this, after all. As much as he knew he could trust Gale, he still had his dignity to keep.

“Hey, Gale,” Storm greeted as he approached. Gale slowed to a stop at the sight of the racer, giving him a smile.

“Oh, hi Jackson! How are you?”

Storm cut to the chase. “Fine. Can I… ask you for some advice?”

Upon seeing Gale’s surprised reaction, Storm quickly added, “It’s for a friend.” And then Gale’s eyes widened even further, and then Storm remembered that he didn’t have any friends and maybe he was making himself even more obvious than before. Well, too late now…

Gale was pleased. “Sure. I’m not in a hurry anyway.” She wheeled around to the entrance. “Let’s go outside.”

Gale and Storm parked themselves outside the IGNTR Racing Center on a grassy area some distance back, facing the sliding glass doors of the entrance. Vehicles passed to and fro as they entered and exited the building. The quiet murmur of the fountain behind them set a comforting atmosphere. Perfect for a heart-to-heart. Except Storm was talking about his friend.

“So I have this friend…” Storm began, and when Gale gave him that knowing look, Storm knew it was already too late and he had already ousted himself. Oh well, he’d carry it to the end.

“They were just offered the chance to become someone’s… mentee…” Storm continued, his eyes drifting off to the side.

Gale’s front lit up in delight. “That’s great! Are they going to accept?”

Storm’s eyes trailed down to the ground. “Well, that’s the problem. They don’t know…”

Gale frowned. “Well, why not?”

“They’re… not exactly what you’d call friends…”

“Ah…”

Storm studied the sliding glass doors. They were shut. “They used to look up to this person… but then they… they started to look at them as someone to beat, instead of be.”

Gale cocked a lid. “Beat? As in a sport?”

Storm started at his mistake. He furrowed his lids, hoping his irritation would cover up his tracks. “That’s not important!”

Gale made a face that said, “Alrighty then.”

Storm opened his mouth to continue, but then closed it, before opening it again. “Anyway, they don’t really know how to act around them, because they only know how to be a jerk…. My friend’s not really good at making friends…”

Gale started to nod, paused mid-nod when she realized that didn’t make complete sense, then finished the nod. She knew.

Storm returned his gaze to the closed doors, growing increasingly agitated. Like the floodgates had opened now. “It’s just that, he—they don’t know what to do, since they actually used to like him—er, that person. But now my friend is better than their role model, which means that they don’t respect them anymore—because my friend has very high standards—but a part of him still admires him because he somehow has the ability to make everybody love him and—”

Gale backed up, shaking her hood to stop him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Jackson, slow down. I’m getting a little mixed up here!”

But Storm was already too far gone. Let anonymity be damned—he no longer had a handle on his emotions. “All I’m saying is that I don’t want McQueen to try and change me and make me into a better person because I don’t want him to know how much of a nobody I really am!”

Storm’s final words echoed across the pavilion. There wasn’t any shame in his countenance. In fact, it seemed as if he had just released a great weight from his cab. There they were—his true feelings. They were out in the open now. The only problem was that he didn’t know what to do with them.

But Gale did. “Maybe McQueen knows what it was like to feel like a nobody deep down. Maybe he doesn’t want the same thing to happen to you…”

Storm scrutinized the closed entrance in silence. Was he actually considering this?

Gale stared at him like she could see straight through to his core. “I think McQueen sees something in you that you don’t even see in yourself.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“The potential to become a somebody. Somebody better.”

The sliding glass doors opened.

I had a little trouble writing Storm’s character here because he’s a slightly different version from what I usually write him. I hope he makes sense.

#asks #jackson storm #gale beaufort #pixar cars #my fics #lightning mentors