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neil-gaiman · 2 days

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Hi Neil.

I know you are flooded with asks and this somehow became extremely long. Too long. “Why am I suddenly telling this poor man my life story?” too long. “I think I’d rather he work on the GO3 script than read this wild beast” too long. “He’s going to think you’re criminally dangerously insane” too long. If you never get to it, I’m good with never seeing a response from you. Maybe it’s better that way? Maybe an anon would have been nice here. But, it’s 2024, so I say “we ball.” It’s a privilege to be able to send this to you at all. You get a lot to this effect and I hope they give you good feels, so maybe what’s the harm, yeah? Because this is not an ask. This is a thank you letter.

First, thanks for reblogging my therapist post, I hope it amused you. I nearly sent you “How am i supposed to explain this to my therapist?!” But refrained. At that time.

So, therapy. What is therapy really? Well…

Things have been really rotten for as long as I can remember. Bad health, bad doctors, bad relationships, bad coping mechanisms, bad all kinds of things. (Yeah, bad is a weak and unhelpful word, my therapist reminds me, but we’re doing this.)

Well, things got even more really really rotten and BAD these last few years. Health declined further, coping mechanisms declined further and more intensely, packed up my life, applied for disability, moved back in with my parents across the country.

Then 4 years ago last week I watched my fiance die of a sudden heart attack. I was 29. Two years later my best friend died. Then last summer I sauntered vaguely into a cancer scare. Not long before an operation my cat who has been my companion through so much garbage died as well. I’m not entirely in the clear on the cancer scare front. All my attempts at going back to work, volunteering, going to grad school - they collapsed on me because I couldn’t get through this STUFF.

(Sometimes when I talk about this, when I tell people, I think “they are going to think you are a raging pathological liar.” Because I’m not sure I would believe someone if they told me all of this happened to them. In such a short time period. All before they were 35. And hell if that hasn’t been isolating. You know how it sounds? Lonely. And it is.)

I did the hypervigilant and sensation/experience chasing stage of PTSD. It got me in a lot of trouble in all kinds of ways. I had to do a lot of medical and psych advocating because things kept getting worse. That was exhausting. Then that peaked. I went into the thick of the “I feel absolutely nothing” stage for a long time. I didn’t feel fatigue or hunger or thirst. Not people, feelings, a reason. Not hope.

But of course, like seems be for a lot of us, I somehow found Good Omens at just the right time. I was a very “I’m so cool and intellectual I mostly consume non-fiction media” person for too long. Like, what? How is that even a real thing? And it wasn’t real. It was just part of this curated autism mask that I don’t think anyone really bought anyway.

I think I got to a point where I’d just had too much reality. I needed fantasy. I didn’t realize I always needed it. But I denied myself for too many odd and painful reasons. Maybe I thought it was an escape I didn’t deserve.

But as it turns out, it wasn’t an escape. I watched both seasons last fall, and then this light came on. I watched it again and again.

I came to tumblr because I needed more. I found this fandom. I stepped into this beautiful world of fanart and fanfiction and brain flexing meta writing and a sense of community and wonder that you and Terry created - that everyone involved in the show inflated - exploded in the right way - like fireworks if fireworks were some kind of autocatalytic reaction - a self perpetuating force.

It’s not a “saved my life” feeling. Not a “getting my life back” feeling. It’s been a “maybe it’s time for you to have the life you’ve always been denied - that you’ve denied yourself” feeling.

I’m creating. I’m not “great” yet. Not terribly “good” at all. Maybe “behind” as far as the “proper” timeline for starting. I know there isn’t one, not really, but boy does that society machine make ya feel like there is. And sure, I started and stopped a lot in the past. But the second it got hard I always gave up. I felt like if I didn’t get it “right” to begin with, then I just didn’t have it in me at all. But for once I’m really in it. I’m writing and trying to draw things that look less like fever dream five year old drawings. (Not that there’s anything wrong with those, is there? 🙃) I’m eating better. I’m sleeping better. I reach out to old friends more. I’ve made new friends who share this love of Good Omens.

My therapist has been floored by the change in me. After that first funny mini flop, he has been so encouraging about it. I saw him this week and I said “Maybe this is helping me get prepared to start living again. Maybe it’s a springboard.” And he honest to god said “But You ARE living. This is YOU LIVING. Why does it have to be a springboard? Why do you have to turn this into ‘work?’ Just let yourself have this for once in your life.”

But there were two more added elements that made it all work. And I can’t help but think this whole brainrot thing wouldn’t have happened without them. So many things just happened all at just the right time - a proper coincidence.

In all of the madness of the last few years I finally got the memo that I'm autistic. i figured I was for a while. But it finally sunk in for me and my docs and my people. So I’d been working on unpacking that. Grieving the life that could have been entirely different, shedding the mask. I let myself hyperfixate openly instead of hiding it and hating myself for “spiralling” or “obsessing” like others -!like ‘I’ always punished myself for before we knew that it was a trait and not a personality flaw.

Then over the last few months my therapist and I started trying this new exercise. One session he stopped me and said “in the last 20 minutes you have responded to what I’ve said with 9 ‘I knows.’” My response to that? “Ugh, I know.” So we started this “I know” swear jar type situation. Really, I’ve been afraid of not knowing. I couldn’t let myself “not know.” Because it meant I was “dumb.” I was just drowning for so long in guilt and self loathing for the “I knew better and screwed up anyway.” Or “I should’ve known better - I should know that by now.”

As it turns out, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. That I didn’t know. Things I will never know. And refusing to admit all of that kept me from learning a damn thing. Kept me from asking questions. Kept me from trying new things because it was scary to do something new - something unknown - and I "knew" how it would all turn out anyway. Kept me from connecting with people because it was painful or embarrassing when they knew things I didn’t and it seemed like I already should have. Kept me from getting better at making art, music, writing. Kept me from forgiving myself. Kept me from growing. And kept me from moving forward. Maybe not on. I don’t know if we ever “move on” from things. But we can move forward as we carry them. And as we do, the weight gets less. We’re able to carry it better. But only if we can admit that we don’t know how. Only if we don’t treat ourselves like this is something we do know or should know and we’re just failing because we’re less than. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not deserving. We have to be able to say “I don’t know how to do this.” And then we can start looking for the answers. We can ask. We can learn.

I thought about the apple. Being able to tell the difference between good and evil. Aziraphale’s years and years of watching what he “knows” to be true be proven wrong. Crowley’s need to ask questions…

The simple and enormous gift of “Knowledge.” The “Knowledge” of the difference between Good and Evil. The “Knowledge” that can only be gained by realizing, accepting, admitting that there are things we don’t know. Asking the questions. Sometimes we get answers we don’t like. Sometimes the consequences of asking hurt us. And unless you want to stay in that painful place that painful knowledge got you, well, you’ve got to let yourself learn how to get out.

So all of this good? I never expected this. I never thought I deserved it. Joy and belonging and this sense that “Yeah, maybe things can get better. Maybe things can be good.” Because I said those things, not truly believing them, to the people I thought needed to hear it. But it couldn’t save them. It was hollow. The proof for us wasn’t really in our orbit or on our radar at the time. And now they’re gone.

People always say “it’s never too late.”

One of the people I lost said “it’s later than you think.”

I jokingly would respond “it’s already too late.”

It was for him in the end. For them. For some people I guess it really is. But maybe a lot of the “too late” people are there because they think “they know” that things will never be good for them. So they stop looking, they stop asking, stop finding. And eventually they just stop.

Then there came Crowley’s “It’s always too late.” The first time I heard it I thought “For sure, Crowley-cakes, I KNOW.”

But then…I just needed to rewatch the whole thing. And lines like that…familiar things…familiar themes…I was suddenly identifying with these characters. I suddenly saw myself. And the realization hit - I connected with something! Something new. And I FELT THAT. And that tiny little crack that made in the wall was just enough to start breaking it down. Yeah, when you start letting yourself feel after not feeling for so long, opening up to the good feelings means opening up to feelings and then the bad ones come out too. But when there IS good … it helps you balance. You can deal with the bad a little better because you’ve got the good thing to lean against when it gets too much. And now you’ve got feelings. You’ve got good and bad. You’ve got sticky foggy grey. You’ve got life.

Whew.

So, TLDR, thank you. From the bottom of my slowly healing heart, thank you.

And to sign off with some shits and giggles… I couldn’t find this in existence as a sticker so I had to custom order. Perhaps this will spread misery and panic among the humans of my city - or at least a malignant and creepy sense of unease.

Or maybe they’ll say “wtf” and go home and google it and they’ll fall into the Good Omens hole they never knew they needed too.

Thank you for this. I never quite know what to say to messages like this apart from I am really glad that it helps. (It becomes the weird extra piece that I worry about when writing season 3 -- hoping that it will be that thing again. Not just a story, but something that helps people feel and helps with healing and helps with love.)

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widowmaxff · 2 days

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In overwhelmed, it mentions that Y/N used to be in a dark hole and how Wanda is afraid she’d go back to it. Can you write about it? Like what happened?

hope ur ok

pairings: mom!wanda × daughter!reader (platonic)

warnings: depressed reader, cryingg, bad thoughts, and sad sad things

a/n: okay how did you pay so much attention to what i wrote in overwhelmed bc i didnt even remember writing that 😭 BUT THANK YOU for the request i literally just ramble what was in my head but hope you like it love!

HOW YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE!

You don't know when it started, much less why it started. Maybe a few days ago, a month ago, maybe a year ago the signs that something was wrong started to appear. It was almost as if these feelings were always there, just hidden by a layer that was slowly removed and made everything more difficult. It seemed like there were days when you could easily deal with it, maybe ignoring it or just hiding it very well, you didn't know. But there were days that were more difficult. It was more difficult to get out of bed, your appetite was barely there, you didn't want to leave your room, just stay in darkness and total silence. Even though this silence made your head spin, it was better than anyone talking and making you even more depressed.

If someone asked the people closest to you if you were sensitive, you were sure that more than half of them would say no. They would talk about how you had a frozen heart, that you didn't cry when you watched a sad movie, that you didn't fall in love with the character when watching or reading a novel, that you didn't care when someone was fighting with you. But deep down, you knew it was a lie. You felt hard feelings most of the time, including when watching sad films. Maybe you just don't like showing the sadness and emptiness you feel. It makes you feel weak, worthless, and selfish, especially selfish. You shouldn't feel this way, not when you had the perfect life: a loving mother, food on the table, new clothes, and expensive sneakers. Then why?

You didn't really care that you felt depressed, you knew that eventually it would pass, just like every other time - even if that feeling came back some time later, even worse. It wasn't like anyone noticed and said anything to you, even though you were sure most of the adults around you blamed it on teenage hormones when they saw you sulking or just isolating yourself in your room all day. Maybe a few questions like 'are you okay?', even though they knew you would respond with something positive even if everything was falling apart. But there was always someone. Someone who knew that it wasn't just teenage hormones but something that was slowly consuming you. Wanda, your mother, was that someone, and she certainly didn't let those details slip.

The first time you actually showed that you were in a depressing state was on a random Thursday at six-thirty in the morning. Wanda didn't mind much in the first moments when you refused to get out of bed, it was normal for any teenager to not be able to stand school. But when you finally decided to show up for the morning in the Compound's kitchen, she was surprised. You had big black bags under your eyes that were tired and red, looking like you hadn't slept well that night and maybe you had been crying most of it. Wanda didn't take long to ask if something had happened and if you were okay, only receiving a murmur of something like ‘'m fine' before turning back to look at the emptiness of space. Tony who was nearby joked “Maybe the red eyes are because of something she used. Don't tell me you snuck out to a party, Mini Maximoff?”, you'd laugh on any other day, even replying something like 'Yes, I did some hard drugs at a party. How do you know?', but that wasn't the case. Stark laughed to himself after saying that sentence but soon the sound of his voice disappeared when he realized that you hadn't heard him and, apparently, nothing around you.

The second time was right after a mission Wanda had done. It was only three days away from you and everything seemed different when she came back. The first thing she noticed was that you didn't run into her arms when she stepped inside the Compound, much less respond to the messages she sent you a few hours earlier. Obviously like a worried mother she went after you, not taking long to find you in your room with all the lights off, two blankets around your body and how it looked like the things in your room had been in the same place since your mother left for the mission. She turned on the light in your room, hearing a soft growl leave your lips. You were awake and conscious, so it didn't make sense for you to want to be lying down and almost sinking into your mattress at four o'clock in the afternoon. She remembered when you were little and couldn't sleep if at least one light wasn't on, now it was ironic to think that you just lived in the darkness and emptiness of your room without fear that some monster would catch you, because no monster could hurt you like depression was.

Wanda couldn't count how many more episodes like those happened and lasted for several days. She was worried, very worried. She was afraid that you would end up doing something that would hurt you, end everything. It was obvious that your mother tried to ask you what was wrong, how she could help you, but you always said that you just woke up on the wrong foot that morning and that everything was fine. Of course, how were you going to tell her what was happening if you didn't even know. There was no reason for you to feel down like that and not even the absurd desire to just want to close your eyes and not open them again. And every day that passed, this dark hole you were in would get deeper and deeper. You knew you needed to ask for help before it was too late.

It was no longer strange when once again that week you had no will to live. You look at the clock next to your bed and realize that your mother would be coming to your room to call you for another day in two minutes and a few seconds. Just the thought of 'one more day' made you want to throw up the food you didn't even eat the day before, as that empty feeling made your hunger go away. But as much as vomiting, you wanted to cry, cry until you couldn't take it anymore. And it was no surprise when the tears started to fall and you couldn't stop. Even though you are not a loud person, trying to keep yourself in your own bubble, the sobs wanted to get out of your throat anyway.

“Darling?” Wanda didn't mind knocking on your bedroom door in the morning, since you would be sleeping, well, not at that moment. When she heard the choking sounds you were making to keep from crying, she didn't take long to run towards your body on the bed and get under your covers, pressing you against her chest giving the perfect comfort to let you know that you weren't alone. “Oh, my love.” Wanda has seen you cry, many, many times, but it was so different to see you cry as if you were drowning in a sea and needed help from someone, anyone. “It's okay, Mama is here.” With each passing minute it seemed like the tears were getting even bigger than before, but you tried to focus on Wanda's heartbeat as you placed your hand on her chest, making you feel calmer despite all the panic.

The lullaby that starts to leave her lips and go straight to your ear makes you start paying attention to the soft melody and not your terrible thoughts. The language Wanda sang in, Sokovian, was not understood by you, but you still remembered when she sang you to sleep on the days you had nightmares. It was as if Wanda was using her magic to calm you down, even though you knew she would never use her powers on you without your permission, but her voice was so sweet that it was more powerful than any of her red magic. Your breathing becomes soft and your movements slow, as if you were choosing the right words to get rid of that moment, but with your mother there it was almost impossible to lie.

“I wanna get help,” You murmur for just her to hear, despite there being no one else in the room with you two. “b-but I don’t even know why I’m like this.” Your crying had stopped, but you still choked to say a few words. Admitting those words out loud seemed like a challenge for you, and when you said them, a weight seemed to lift off your back despite not having yet deciphered all your feelings. And Wanda knew that. She knew how hard you were to avoid looking like a weak person even if you weren't, even if asking for help wasn't a sign of weakness but rather of improvement.

Your mother kisses your head, taking a few seconds before cupping your face and looking at it. “I'm so proud of you, my angel.” You didn't see pity or lies in the expression on her face. You didn't see disappointment and much less as if you were a problem for her. “I'm glad you want to ask for help, and I'm here for it, yeah?” You felt a little guilty when you saw a tear come out of your mother's eyes, but she was still smiling. The same smile you saw when you woke up, or when you told her some good news, or even when you told her a joke. Wanda never wanted you to feel anything negative about her. She never took out any frustration on you, never made you feel bad when you got a bad grade at school, or when you accidentally knocked a glass on the floor. “I will help you with whatever you need, my love. It will be slow, but I promise that the tightness in your chest will pass, okay?”

“I trust you.” She nods before pulling you into a hug that she knew you needed more than anything at that moment. The process would take a long time until you felt well again, you both knew that, but it was never too late. It's never too late to ask for help, because it's normal to need someone to pull you out of the dark hole sometimes, it's normal to not feel good all the time. Having feelings is normal, even if sometimes they are too deep, or too shallow. You just needed to realize that you were never alone, that people around care about you and will always want the best for you.

“I love you so much. Always remember that.”

“I love you too, Mama.”

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tonkatsubowl · 3 days

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blargghh how do you think aventurine would be w someone self destructive do you think they would make eachother worse or like help eachother ? i dunnooo i love him smm

oohh... i think aventurine would be able to relate with someone who's self destructive, but he'd also be very disappointed with the idea with them actually pursuing it and be there for them. although he has his own self destructive tendencies, i think he would learn his lesson too, that someone out there would love and care about him, and be upset if he went away.

when aventurine found out about your tendencies, and your thoughts and ideas of destroying yourself, he felt... heartbroken. sad, even.

the man always wore a mask of a blissful smile, as though everything in his life went well, especially the fact he donned in wealth and good luck.

but we all know the man was suffering within, his motives and his outlook on life was a depressing subject. but when he came across you, learned more about you, he learned more about himself.

he found you within the alleyway of penacony.

you often visited this dreamscape to escape from reality, but there was a limit of how much you can stay before you returned to the nightmare known as reality.

when he found you, you were distraught, in tears even, and you were in a panicked state. he quickly rushed to your side, wondering what was wrong. and that was when you finally said it,

"i can't take it anymore. i don't want to live."

the words struck him into his heart like it was nostalgia, reminding himself of...well, himself.

"...why?" he murmured, his hand brushing amongst your hair, brushing them away from your tear stained face, "talk to me."

then, you explained everything about your life. your suffering, what you've been through, how life was excessively cruel and you weren't sure if you were meant to be born at all.

"i'm better off if i just disappeared."

he knew you well, and he knew how many lives you've changed despite the fact you were blind to the fact of that. you were a member of the express team, and all the burden of saving worlds throughout the cosmos really took a toll on your mental health.

"don't say that." aventurine spoke, seating himself before you, bringing you into an embrace, "even if you don't know it now, you've saved many lives by simply being there, and soon you will do so much more. someone, out there... your express family, or someone out throughout the cosmos cares about you."

"...and yet, i feel like this. i feel helpless, even. i don't know what to do, anymore."

it was like a contradiction to aventurine. the man had the exact same mindset as you. it was like talking to himself - except, he knew what it was like. to be in your shoes.

but he had to be there for you. he wanted to be.

because he also knew what being helpless, feeling alone, a burden was like.

"...it's okay if you don't know what to do at this very moment. life is strange, really. you live through it and you often find yourself in trouble through all these obstacles that come across your way. but life is challenging. it's about getting through these obstacles, and..." he paused. something about his own words struck him, too.

"... and it's about learning to love yourself again. for every down hill, there is an uphill. and i assure you, that even if you feel alone now, you are not. you are merely blind to your surroundings and the future that is ahead of you. if you wish to take away your life now... there wouldn't be anyone to replace you. there is only... one of you, and none of us are replaceable, really.

things will be harsh now, but after you wipe away your tears and you get up, a beautiful garden will bloom upon your feet, and you will soon find yourself once more."

his words eased you slowly, as you felt yourself breathe again once more. you leaned into his touch, feeling the cold rush of his jewelry and accessories of his expensive attire cool your warm visage. all that crying really did heat up your face a bit.

"... haha. a certain doctor once told me that someone... someone out there loves me. cherishes me. and even will care about me if i go. they will shed a tear if i decided to leave everything behind. the fact applies to you, as well, (y/n). if only you knew how many people care about you, and in the future too. "

you wipe your tears away, looking at him with your dolled eyes. you were calmer, his words bringing you more comfort and truth.

"we've only been given one life, after all. we must die without regrets and with joy."

you were quiet, but you decided to break your own silence too, with your own statement. "... were you like this before, aventurine? you always wear a smile, and you seem so content with your own life."

"... ah," he murmurs, shaking his head a bit, "i... am in the same state as you, really. it's contradicting for me to say all of this, but... i suppose a part of me is blind to everything that i'm saying. i'll give you advice, but i cannot follow my own. isn't that a funny thing?"

the man chuckled, placing his shades at your face before leaning back a tad.

"listen to me, (y/n)...and promise me one thing."

you looked at him again, silent. you tilted your head,

"never leave your loved ones behind by dying to your own hand. you'd only miss out on the opportunities that life has ahead of you. things may be down now, but focus on the future... and what lies ahead of you."

you nod slowly, before rising up from the ground you sat on. you look to aventurine, who remained seated.

"... then... can i say about the same for you? if we're making promises then... promise me you won't do anything stupid like i was going to do."

aventurine's gaze softens, before nodding slowly. taking your hand as he helps himself up, dusting himself off.

"... for you, i will obey that promise."

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail aventurine

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balanceoflightanddark · 2 days

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The fire nation's defeat was technically Azula's fault.

Zuko and Iroh were branded traitors and failures. Azula was given specific instructions to capture them, dead or alive. Azula had them both red-handed in Ba Sing Se. Instead of doing what she was told, she asks for Zuko's help and she clears his name in return.

Now, it could be argued that without Zuko's help, she would've been pummeled into submission by Aang and Azula. Well, then after his usefulness was used up, she had a chance to pull yet another fast one and apprehend him without having to lie to Ozai.

Zuko acted suspiciously. He made Azula doubt that Aang really died and she began to think that Zuko may have had something to do with his survival. Instead of searching for proof of Aang's survival and informing her suspicions to Ozai, she puts unnecessary risk on herself and sets up a gambit that was ultimately pointless in more ways than one.

If Azula did what she was supposed to do, Zuko and Iroh would be dead or put in prison which leads to Zuko never finding out about the plans with the comet, Aang never finds a firebending sifu, the FN gains victory unopposed, and Azula can reign as Fire Lord.

In short, by choosing to lend Zuko a hand more than once, she indirectly did Team Avatar a huge favor.

Boom: Butterfly Effect.

The FN's MVP was also Team Avatar's MVP. I do enjoy the irony.

I wonder though, what would the Gaang's, Azula's Zuko's, Iroh's, Ozai's, and all of FN's reactions when realizing this epiphany?

It would break Azula.

...no seriously. It would break her.

While I think it would be a bit of a stretch to say that the defeat of the Fire Nation was her fault (cause there's no way in hell she could've seen bringing Zuko home would end up with his betrayal of Ozai), I do think she was hurting already with Zuko betraying her. If she was torn up about Mai and Ty Lee turning on her, I have no doubt she'd feel the same about Zuko regardless of what her relationship with him is right now. Add on to the fact that this is a girl that is hoisted with way too much responsibility than she is able to handle (being driven to become perfect at any cost), a revelation like this would destroy her.

And the fallout wouldn't be pretty. At all. It would probably rival her breakdown at Sozin's Comet, if not be worse. Hell, I think Zuko and Iroh would be a bit concerned for her. Zuko did seem somewhat regretful at her state after the Last Agni Kai and Iroh (while not Azula's biggest fan) probably wouldn't be that callous to brush her off.

Ozai would hate her though. Hate hate HATE her though. He puts on so much pressure for her to be perfect. What do you think the abusive piece of shit is going to do when he puts two and two together. Might even disown her on the spot, which will cause her to spiral even more. And she'd probably lose a lot of support in the Fire Nation for indirectly letting an unpopular successor on the throne, which would cause her to spiral even further.

...kind of why I don't really want to put the blame on the Fire Nation's defeat on her since the poor kid doesn't need that on top of her failures already. Besides, I think the defeat of the Fire Nation can better be laid on Ozai's feet. I mean, he was the one who banished Zuko and mistreated both him and Azula. If we want to go indirect, he set up a domino effect. And directly, he wasn't able to consolidate the Fire Nation's gains at the end of the war which led to a huge rebellion movement. And he certainly didn't seem to want to get involved with fighting Aang during the Day of the Black Sun which could've stacked the odds further against him when the firebending was turned back on. Mind you, this was before Zuko showed up. Like he was sipping tea while Azula was holding the Gaang off.

That being said, I could see him pass the buck off on Azula for the Fire Nation's defeat. Which would lead into the scenario I just outlined above.

#azula #princess azula #azula meta #zuko #iroh #ozai #fire lord ozai #ozai's grade a parenting #fire nation #atla #avatar: the last airbender #atla meta #anon ask #anon answered #ask answered #ask me anything

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enqmind · 2 days

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Well, this took a while. But we're here now and that's all that's important.

Ghost/Female Reader WC: 1.1k 18+ content

Warnings: Suicide attempt by reader, gaslighting, manipulation, Local Manc has worst possible reaction to a suicide attempt, ~*self indulgence*~

Reader notes: Thin enough to fit into a standard bathtub, light enough to be lifted from a standard bathtub by Ghost, mentally ill, pale enough for noticable blushing (feel free to ignore), atheist (ffti)

One Man's Treasure II

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He didn’t turn the big light on when he carried her into his living room. He didn’t need to, the floor clear of any clutter to trip him up.

He didn’t turn it on after he lay her on the sofa and went to grab a towel. The light of his own bathroom spilling into the room was enough, he thought.

Enough to wrap her in one of his big, barely used, towels.

Enough to clean and bandage her wounds.

Enough to blot the blood and water from her hair.

She huddled into him for warmth and comfort and he did not deny her.

How could he? For now he was her shepherd, guiding her until she went to the hereafter.

In the dim and dinge, it would be easier for her to accept the reality of her situation.

So he kept her in the dark.

---

She stirred against him a few hours later. Wincing against the low light and putting a hand to her head.

“Head hurt?” he rumbled.

She froze and peered up at him. Blinking in confusion.

“You’re… no. There’s no way.” She pulled away from him and rubbed at her face. “I keep fucking it up, there’s no way it worked this time.”

“How many times?”

“Four or five.” She looked ashamed, wrapping herself up in her arms, like she’d done in the bath. “Skill issue, I guess.”

He watched her. He could see that forlorn hope dancing in her eyes that he was real. That she’d actually managed it this time.

He put a hand on her shoulder.

I am real.

“I thought if I did it in the bath, maybe I’d drown if I fucked up again.”

He tilted his head at her.

She looked at him, eyes widening.

Relief played on her face again, battling with misery.

“I drowned?”

“Was the bottle full when you started?”

Relief won, a smile breaking out on her face.

“I did it,” she whispered, a hand reaching out and grasping his jumper. “It’s over.”

On some level he felt like he should be angry at that, like he’d been trained to be by an uncaring world, but it was hard when she started crying.

“Thank you,” she sniffled, “I know it’s your… job? Or whatever, but thank you.” A watery smile. “I feel a lot better not being alone right now.”

She removed her hand and pulled the towel tighter around herself, covering up her skin.

Her head must still be throbbing from her hangover.

He stood.

“I’ll get you some water. Drink it, then sleep.”

She nodded, resigned.

“Some last solid rest before my trip to hell. That’s very kind of you.”

Ghost turned to stare at her.

“What?” he barked. “You're not going to hell.”

Why would she? What could this small, sad looking woman possibly have done to deserve that.

She frowned, “are you sure? I’m an atheist and I killed myself. You have to admit that it’s not looking good for me.”

Both of those things were so desperately inconsequential that he found himself chuckling.

“You’re not going to hell,” he repeated. A sly smile formed under his mask. “It’s so much worse. You’re stuck with me.”

She stared back at him with wide eyes and a gently agape mouth.

“Oh.”

He turned away and went to the kitchen, leaving her to stew in that horror for a moment.

It seemed to sink in as she took the glass from him and drank from it.

He sat next to her again, arm stretched out on the back behind her. Watching her mouth as she drank.

She had a pretty mouth.

To her credit, she didn’t flinch away from him. Instead staring blankly into the middle distance as she drank.

It was as she neared the end of the glass that the silence was broken.

“Is- is that your face?”

“It’s a mask. What people expect.”

She nodded and finished her drink.

“Okay.”

He pulled the glass from her hands and put it on the floor.

“Sleep now?” she asked, eyes wide as she looked at him. The towel pulled tightly around her again.

He slipped his arms beneath her and pulled her up against his chest as he stood.

Her eyes widened even more.

Oh, he must be sc-

“Gosh. You’re really strong.” She looked awed, mouth pulling up into a cute smile.

Ghost found himself taken aback.

“You’re not that heavy.”

“At that angle I am.” She stared at her fingers, weaving them together, and was that a blush? “The mechanics being what they are, and all.”

“You like strong men, huh?” he murmured as he carried her to the bedroom.

Her blush deepened.

“I admire the hard work and discipline.” A quiet protest, as she was placed on the bed.

“‘Course you do.”

“I do!”

He dug around in his drawers, pulling out two sets of pyjamas. One with long bottoms and one with drawstring shorts.

He put the shorts set on the bed.

“Sure. You change into those and get under the duvet. I’ll be right back.”

“Um.” Her meek call stopped him in the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“Are we going to share the bed?”

Of course they were. There was only one in the flat.

“Yeah.”

“I could sleep on the sofa,” she offered.

That was a stupid idea.

“No. You need a proper night’s sleep.”

Her nervous expression intensified.

“It’s just, um-”

“Sleep.” He walked over to her and crouched so they were eye to eye. “You need sleep, and that’s what you’ll get. Nothing else.”

She searched his eyes in the dinge.

“Okay.”

He nodded.

He found her curled up under the duvet when he got back. Towel neatly folded on top of the chets of drawers, bra and knickers on top of it. She must have believed him.

A gentle touch on her shoulder earned him nothing.

Out like a light. Good.

He moved to the other side of the bed and climbed in.

Sharing a bed with another person wasn’t something he’d done in a long time. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to sleep. That would be annoying, but he’d cope.

He turned onto his side and looked at his bedmate’s sleeping face.

She was smashing her face into the pillow, mouth locked in a grim line and eyebrows slightly furrowed.

There was no way she was dreaming yet, her eyes remained stationary under their lids.

Soon they’d start dancing, and he’d watch. Just in case she needed him again.

---

Movement against his skin woke him.

His eyes snapped open, hand reaching for a weapon.

A head of messy hair filled his vision, and an arm around his chest stymied his reach.

The light creeping under his blind illuminated the situation, his neighbour pressed up against him.

It felt… quite nice, actually.

She tilted her head to look up at him, the words on her lips falling away with shock.

He looked curiously at her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“What’s the matter?”

“You… look just like my neighbour.”

Shit.

#cod fic #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x oc #tw: suicide attempt #tw: suicide #tw: dark fic

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lostbetweenvampiresandmusic · 1 day

Note

Hi, it’s me again.

Could you do 9 & 17 with Dwayne? Maybe the reader was raised by vampire hunters but they don’t like violence so they spend all their life researching instead of training to fight vampires? Just a suggestion you have all the creative liberties

9. Why are you reading at the boardwalk?

17. I did everything you asked, and still you talk to me as if I'm nothing!

Ooh I love this idea!!! Thank you so much for requesting - I really hope you like this!

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

"There are vampires in this town. We need to handle quickly, before they know we're here."

My father stood at the front of the table and bowed down over a map of Santa Carla. My mother was washing the wooden stakes with holy water, and my sister was busy practising her fighting moves. I sighed, curled up in the chair by the window.

"Why can't we just let them be?"

"They kill people."

"Isn't hunting them down also killing people?" I asked, but the second I did I knew I went to far.

"You listen to me, child!" My father stomped towards me, grabbing my chin. "You're a part of this family, and we are destined to protect the world from vampires. We've allowed you to stay behind because you refuse to fight, but I will hear none of this nonsense!"

"But-"

"These creatures are evil, demons that poison the world. And if you do not stand with us, then you're against us. You're just as bad as them."

I stood from my chair, trembling with anger. "How dare you?! I did everything you asked, and still you talk to me as if I am nothing! Why can't you just accept that I don't consider vampires a threat? Why must you kill them?" In the past year, I had researched everything I could, from behaviours to living situations - and I could only draw one conclusion out of all of it. Vampires weren't worse than humans. In fact, humans were more vicious killers than they were. Humans kill so many, not just people but also animals - simply for their pleasure (in the case of animals) or because it is expected from them in situations of war. But vampires, as horrible as they are, only kill because they need to in order to survive. And if they find a way for themselves to enjoy the killing, to make it bearable for them? Is that truly that bad? Does it truly make them worse than humans? I didn't think so.

My father turned to me, his stare turned ice cold. "Matthew -" my mother tried to calm him down, but he pushed her away. My sister had left the room, probably not willing to hear the same old argument again.

"You lost your brother because of those monsters. Or have you forgotten that?"

I glared at him. "Those killers have been dealt with."

"Exactly. And that's what we need to do here."

"But they didn't hurt us!"

"Get out!" My father now growled, and without looking back, I ran. I grabbed my bag, ran out of the house, and didn't stop running until I saw people.

I stopped to catch my breath, closing my eyes as I tried to fight tears. I missed my brother a lot, but it didn't justify the slaying of vampires. It didn't. It wasn't right, and it pained me more than I liked to admit that my family couldn't see that.

I entered the boardwalk, finding a way through the crowds. In the bag I'd taken was one of my favourite books, and I knew that I needed to read right now. I needed to clear my head and get away from the trouble at home. I didn't like the idea of reading on the sand, to afraid the sand would get stuck between the pages and damage the book. So, I walked around looking for a better spot.

I sighed as I found an empty bench at the boardwalk, a bright streetlantern right above it. It was a perfect spot to read. As I sat down, curling my legs up beneath me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness wash over me. If they could only just accept me for who I was, and accept that I would never be like them...

I opened my book, and before I knew it, I was engulfed in the story. The laughter of the people on the boardwalk disappeared into the far background of my mind. The movements of the crowds disappeared from my sight. It was just me and my book. I had read it many a time before, every single time turning back to it. If the count cared so much for Mina, so much that in the end, he begged her to kill him so she could be free - then he wasn't truly evil, was he?

"Been a long time since I've seen anyone with that book."

I jumped, startled by the voice in front of me. I looked up and saw a handsome man looking at me.

"It's one of my favourites."

He smiled as he sat down next to me. "Why are you reading at the boardwalk?"

"It's more quiet here," I said with a soft smile. "Here I can get lost in the story, but at home..." I shook my head. "It's easier to read here."

"I'm Dwayne."

I gave him my name, finding myself enjoying his presence. There was something about him. We talked for hours. About the book I was reading now, about books we both had read - and by the time the boardwalk closed, I found myself considering him a close acquaintance.

"Do you want to meet again sometime?" I asked him, feeling more shyly than I had anticipated.

"How about we go out for dinner tomorrow? I'll meet you at the boardwalk at eight."

I smiled, nodding. "Sounds good. I'll see you then!"

Dwayne drove off, feeling contemplated. He knew that they were a member of a family of hunters, but nothing about them gave him any warning signs. In everything they'd talked about that evening, they had seem very positive towards vampires. No, they weren't a threat, he decided. Maybe even an asset if push came to shove. The question was, would that stay that way when they realised that they were destined to be a vampire themselves?

#the lost boys #marko #david #paul #dwayne #tlb #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #star #the lost boys x reader

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space-noods · 2 days

Text

Training

JJK x Neko! Y/N

Growing up with lots of siblings meant you had plenty of people to train with. Growing up the strongest of said siblings meant most of these trainings were pretty null. Besides keeping your skills active, training had become rather unchallenging. The strongest in your clan were often working as sorcerers or dead. At some point, training felt akin to jogging. Steady and simple exercise.

You blamed all those weaklings at home as to why you were so wholly unprepared to train with Geto and Gojo. It wasn’t that you were weak. No, you were well on your way to become a Grade 1 sorcerer before you even graduated. But when your competition is Geto and Gojo, you might as well have been an infant. They were too strong and only getting stronger.

“Cmon kitten! That’s all you’ve got?” If you had any more strength, you would have sneered at him.

“Don’t bully her too much, Satoru. She’s definitely trying her best.” You never could decide who was worse. The brash and blatant Satoru. Or the underhanded and snide Suguru.

You looked pitiful. Your cursed technique was the ability to summon individual aspects of a cat. You could transform one arm to become a large mangle cat arm with sharp claws. And in more extreme cases, you could transform into a large cat-like beast. Right now, after blowing through most of your energy you were an amalgamation of human and beast. Your ears bigger and your fangs protruding. Your tail had also lengthened and both of your hands were in the beast form. And if you weren’t panting and almost keeling over, you would look a lot more threatening.

“Why…. Why do I have to fight both of you at the same time?

“You want to get better don’t you? If you don’t fight the best, you’ll never be the best,” Gojo claimed, as if explaining to a child.

“Unless of course, you don’t mind being weak. As sorcerers, it is our duty to protect the feeble. I would definitely feel more motivated knowing I was protecting you,” Geto smiled.

“Fuck you guys.”

And as usual, the day ended with you in Shoko’s dorm as Geto and Gojo continued to bully you.

When the next training day rolled around, you knew better. All those bruises and cuts taught you something. You were motivated… to skip class. With the minimal staff, and students leaving campus all the time, all you did was just walk out.

Although you had acclimated to society well enough, you were still fascinated looking at buildings. So your favorite hobby was to buy a milk from the vending machine, find the hill facing Tokyo and watching the hustle and bustle. On warmer days, it was also and amazing nap spot. Speaking of naps, as the warm breeze passed over you, the sun heating you, you felt your eyes struggle to open. And soon enough, you were napping at the foot of the tree.

Training days were both Satoru and Suguru’s favorite days. They loved seeing you change into shorts. They loved getting to caress and pet you, even if it was between hits. And, they actually did like seeing your progress. You were undeniably getting better. If you kept going at this pace, you would definitely be able to hold your own against them. And maybe they wouldn’t worry too much each time you were sent on a mission alone

They also loved seeing you panting and sweating. Especially when you would look up at them with those eyes, begging for them to go easier on you.

Therefore, they were quick to change clothes into their gym wear. Suguru contacted Yaga to let him know he would be using cursed beings and Satoru sat in the ground and pulled at the grass. You didn’t show up.

Ok, maybe something happened. You were probably still sore from last time, and needed to take your time changing. That’s probably it. Another five minutes passed and still no you.

They walked over to the changing rooms. They couldn’t ask Shoko for any help as she didn’t train with them. Pressing their ears to the door to hear nothing. Not even rustle of clothes. Nothing.

It took them a second before they pieced everything together. You were running from them, and that really pissed Satoru off.

“Calm down, Satoru. She probably feels embarrassed about her strength. I promise you, she’s definitely somewhere regretting her choices.”

Suguru was wrong.

Using his six eyes, Gojo was able to track your cursed residue. Because of your half curse nature and amateur skills, it was very easy to find you. And instead of a young woman lamenting her decision to forego practice, they found you.

Well, maybe you?

Instead of an actual human, there lied a skrunkly tiny kitten. The cats little belly plump with milk, as implied by the empty milk. The teens took a moment to just stare. The cats ear twitched as they got closer, but not enough to wake the cat.

Suguru watched as Satoru stomped over to the cat and picked it up by its scruff. He held it to eye-level, inspecting every hair on it. Poking its belly, he realized that yes, the cat was you. You ditched practice to lounge around as a lazy cat.

“It’s her?”

“Yup.”

“What do we do now? Doesn’t look like she’s waking up anytime soon.”

“If I had a choice, I would throw her off this hill and sick some curses on her. That would probably wake her up!” Satoru sneered. “Yaga and her would be up my ass about it, though if she makes it back… Well she is a cute kitten! Maybe I can keep her like this and adopt her!”

“She really is cute.” Walking up to Satoru, he takes you from him, holding you in his arms. Suguru has always been fond of cats. But he felt more endeared knowing that it was you. It was clear to everyone that the pair had a soft spot for you. As the first sorcerer in his family, he also felt alien in this world. It felt like he was running a race he didn’t even sign up for. And while he was also blessed with an exceptional technique that allowed him to catch up, he still had moments where he felt like an outsider. The most obvious came from his own friend. As much as he loved Gojo, it always felt like he was just a hair behind him. A small schism between them. One that promised to grow with them.

So when he first met you, he was jealous, of course, of the familial history you have with sorcery. But it was clear that you were like him. You didn’t sign up to be a sorcerer. If anything, you were worse than him. You were bred, like an animal, for the sorcerer world. You also didn’t sign up for the race. It was through this connection, that he was drawn to you. But it was your stubborn and laughable nature that kept him coming back. Your were both a feisty and ambitious girl, while a coward. Unlike both Geto and Gojo, you were aware of your mortality. You didn’t want to be the best, you just wanted to live. And if that meant ditching training sessions and embarrassing yourself, you would. To some extent, he could admire that too.

“Do you think we’re too rough on her? I mean, there’s no reason for both of us to fight her. We could take turns.” By now Geto had sat down at the base of the tree. He placed you on his lap, petting your head. Gojo leaned on the tree, looking down at the pair. “She needs to be strong.”

“Not everyone can be the Six Eyes wielder Satoru.”

“You’ve had less time training and you’re way stronger than her. She has potential. She can be a special grade if she works hard. Maybe if she spent less time catching mice and actually trained, she already would be.”

It was always about levels and strength for Gojo. Geto understood why. Satoru’s whole life is based on those pillars. He relied on being strong and representing his clan. He didn’t care for moral obligation or trying your best. He was the best. And to be fair, Geto hadn’t exactly challenged those views of his. He looked down, as you had begun to purr. Maybe you would?

Gojo must have sensed the connection between Geto and you as he nabbed you from Getos lap and placed you in his own. Petting you, Gojo couldn’t help but pinch you a little. It confused him why he was so drawn to you. Why did he want you to look at him, talk to him, see him. He was stronger. He was the best, undoubtedly. So why was he groveling for your attention? Why would he force you to train against him. Why would he harass you in and out of class. At first it started as entertainment. There really is nothing more fun than watching your tail stiffen or your ears go into airplane mode. But he needed you to be stronger. He needed there to be a reason for him to want you as much as he does. You and he were very similar. You both came from clans hailing you to be the strongest. You both were in restrained by rules of society. To your family, you weren’t a person. You both represented the worst in jujutsu society.

But unlike him, you weren’t afraid to rebel against it. Maybe not in the grand way of flipping the elders off and speeding away in a motorcycle like he would like to, but in your apathy towards their expectations. You prioritize yourself and your experience first. And while you are bound to a life of sorcery, you take joy in catching cicadas and talking selfies (which you recently learned of and haven’t stopped doing)

Satoru and Suguru spent the rest of the day on that hill. They would pass you off to the other after an allotted time. It was a little shocking you were still asleep for so long, but they didn’t mind. If anything, they were overjoyed at the fact that they could hold you like this for longer. By the time school ended, they walked back to the school, holding you all the way there.

Epilogue

When you finally woke up with a giant yawn, you were in Satoru’s arms as they were being scolded by Yaga. Jumping off of him, you did your best to pretend you were a stray cat. As you were walking away, you were yanked up by the scruff of your neck by Yaga. He had immediately recognized you.

Satoru and Suguru were forced to clean classrooms for a week. You were forced to catch mice for a week.

And if that wasn’t punishment enough, you had Geto and Gojo begging you to transform into the tiny cat version all the time.

_______________________________________________

Notes:

I actually don’t have a cat, so a lot of what I write is just observed from cat owners. I recently learned that you actually SHOULD NOT grab cats by their scruff! I wouldn’t want anyone to read this and think that it’s ok to do. So, just letting yall know do not grab a cat like that in real life!

Let’s just pretend in the JJK universe that it doesn’t hurt at all 🤪

Thanks for reading!

Images used are not mine!

More JJK x Neko! Y/N

Neko Reader Blurb!

Neko Reader Origin!

Neko Reader Doctor Exam

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