forget i ever existed

anonymous asked:

Will has a tramp stamp and Hannibal finds it. 👀

“Will?”

“Yes?”

“You never mentioned that you had a tattoo.”

Will groaned and buried his face in his pillow. “I honestly forgot I even had it. Not exactly a spot I see on a regular basis.”

The faded ink covered an area approximately two inches across. A black paw print, of course. Hannibal traced it with his finger. “Would you care to share the story?”

“I was drunk. It was Mardi Gras. I was dating someone who encouraged too many of my bad ideas.”

Hannibal smiled. “It would seem you have a type.”

“You wouldn’t have liked her. Are you going to get on with the massage now?”

“Of course,” Hannibal said, though he remained still, straddling Will’s thighs, hands resting at the small of his back. “Aren’t you curious about mine?”

Will laughed over his shoulder. “You have tattoos?”

“Perhaps when I’m finished here, I’ll allow you to see for yourself.”

anonymous asked:

Reader comforting Pete after he messes up on a mission and innocents get hurt?

There was a sombre mood in the common room as you and most of the Avengers sat around the enormous TV which Tony had installed.

You sat on the arm of one of the sofas with Wanda leaning her head against your thigh, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. You stroked her hair absentmindedly, unable to pull your eyes away from the TV screen.

The mission from which you’d all just returned had been horrible. Clint was trying to make you laugh by doing impressions of Pudsey Bear, but the blood staining the bandage around his head slightly ruined the effect. Steve and Bucky had barely spoken since returning, Wanda had barely stopped crying, and the rest of the team appeared to be in a daze as they watched the footage from the mission on the screen.

You had all fought well, but you were severely outnumbered by gunmen. Civilians had been trapped in the middle of the fight, and the footage on every news channel in the world showed just how well you’d defended them as they were carried away in bags.

You breathed in sharply as footage of you and Peter appeared on the screen, trying desperately to shield a group of civilians from a spray of bullets. You knew what was coming, and watched with a grave expression as a bullet struck your left shoulder and made you fall to the ground. On the screen, Peter lunged towards you to catch you, leaving the civilians unguarded.

They fell like dominoes.

“That’s enough,” you said suddenly, your voice strangely emotionless. “We all know what happened, watching this won’t help anyone.”

You reached for the remote with your uninjured arm and switched the TV off, before standing and making your way into the kitchen.

Peter was hunched over the sink, and the muffled sounds of sobs reached your ears. Sighing, you climbed onto the breakfast bar and sat facing him, your legs swinging over the side of the table.

“Give it a couple of days, they’ll have stopped reporting about it,” you told him quietly. “Three days, and people will forget the footage ever existed.”

“But I won’t forget,” your boyfriend replied, standing slightly straighter but not turning to face you. “Every time I blink, I either see you or them being shot.”

You rubbed your bandaged shoulder subconsciously, trying to think of a way to comfort him.

“I know what you’re here to do, (Nickname), and I appreciate it, but I have to accept this,” he continued. “People died, it’s on me.”

“It’s on both of us,” you argued back, and he turned to face you, confusion written all over his face. “If I’d just been watching, I would’ve seen the bullet that got me coming. I wouldn’t have been hit, you wouldn’t have moved, and we would’ve saved those people.”

When Peter didn’t reply, you opened your arms to him, hiding your grimace of pain as your left shoulder screamed in protest. He closed the distance between the two of you quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in the crook of your neck as he stood between your legs. You rubbed his back gently, whispering comforting nonsense under your breath to him.

“When I saw you fall, I didn’t care about the others,” he whispered eventually, his voice thick with tears. “I thought I’d lost you, and they didn’t matter anymore. Does that make me a bad person?”

You pulled away slightly so that your forehead was resting against his. He clung to your wrists as you cupped his face carefully.

“Don’t you ever say that, Pete. You try to save everyone you can, that makes you one of the bravest people in the world. You’re my hero.”

He chuckled quietly, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“And you’re my world,” he whispered back.

That awkward moment when someone actually tries to get your attention by calling your name but you don’t hear it the first few times because you literally forgot that you exist and are unfortunately not invisible to others.

instagram

Sewoon’s ig update:  된거 맞네요😶
내일 10시 오르골라이브에서 만나요✌

Yes, it’s working*😶
Let’s meet on Orgel Live tomorrow at 10✌️

*In his video: “is it working?”

trans credit ©sewoonari

that adhd feel when #78353

other adhd people: i couldn’t read this whole post because it was too long :(

me, an adhd: wow that sucks! i love reading and writing long posts, they’re my favorite. i wonder why i don’t have this problem.

later:

me: *encountering a long post* yesss look at all these words
me: *reads first 2 sentences*
me: *skims 3 more paragraphs*
me: *scrolls to the bottom quickly to like the post* I’ll read this later :D
me: *forgets the post ever existed*
me: man I love long posts

Beach breakdown

(Because of a misunderstanding, Alajéa, Karenn and Gardy are trying to set Colaïa free when the ENTIRE Guard of El (Miiko, the boys and Leif, Jamon, Ewe, Kero and Ykhar) arrives on the beach to stop them.)

Do you want to know what goes through our head, you the GREAT, THE FABULOUS CHIEF OF THE WONDERFUL EL GUARD ?!

What goes through our head, is that again… you… you… no… (plural you, Gardy is talking about the El Guard)

YOU decided to blow up a family. (singular you, Gardy is talking about Miiko.)

Keep reading

It’s been a while since we’ve spoken to each other.
The flowers under our favourite tree have withered and turned into blankets of snow, burying the places we’d call our own.
I know you cheated on me with that girl who gets you drunk every time you try to talk about your past. Our past.
I know you don’t really love her.  At least, not as much as you seemed to love me. I can see it in the way you avoid the places we used to go to together or the way you keep wishing you could hold her the way you used to hold me.
Please, honey. Come back to me.
It’s killing me inside to see us like this. 
I want to start over with you. 
I know it won’t be the same if we’re back together and all the resentment we can’t weed out of our chests will turn into the cold distance between us but I promise I will try harder to forget. I will love you so much that you’ll forget the space between us ever existed.

You ruined me and I don’t know how to mend my broken parts again and I hate this desperation but I need you now.
I am ready to crumble just to be with you.
Please just come back to me.
X.

—  Tamarind Fall; Writing prompt: A girl writing to a boy who cheated on her but she still loves him and wants to start a relationship with him, but it’s changing her for the worse. She loves him so much but he doesn’t seem to care.

kvro-o  asked:

Kuroken! Hurt !

Okay, this took a while but I’m really happy about it!! THANKS FOR THE PROMPT!!!!

Rating: T


The knock is choppy and loud in the apartment, and Kenma jumps when he hears it, clasping onto his cup so not to drop it. It’s unusual for someone to visit this late; Kenma glances at the clock, 9 pm.

He slides off of the stool and approaches the door. It’s not Kuroo because he has a key unless he lost it… again.

He lifts to his toes in order to peer out the peephole. He doesn’t recognize the face, the greasy hair, but something familiar pulls at Kenma’s brain. Kenma unlocks the door but doesn’t dislodge the chair peeking out with suspicion.

“May I help you?” He’s large, almost as tall as Kuroo, and his hair dark like his too, but his eyes are dull, fogged over with the hint of alcohol and it makes Kenma want to close the door.

“Is this where that damn Te’surou’s staying?” His words are partly slurred and Kenma glances down at the beer bottle in his hand.

“Yes, how do you know Kuro?” Kenma closes the gap between the door and the frame just a smidge.

The man lets out a laugh that sounds like he’s choking and Kenma jumps, looking down at his feet.

“I’m his pops, now you going to let me in or no?” Kenma chokes back his surprise, scrambling for the chain lock as the man waves around his bottle insistently.

“Um… of… of course, come in.” Kenma trips and fumbles over his words opening the door fully and letting the man walk through. He enters with his head back, the look of judgment stained on his face. Kenma’s about to offer him a drink before he reels back his words, remembering the beer bottle.

He stands at the balcony door, staring out into the darkness then taking another swig.

“Um… Kuro’s not here at the moment, but he should be home from work soon.” Kenma fiddles his toes in discomfort. He’s at a loss for words his social anxiety clasping down on both his head and heart, like a fog.

“So the bastard finally got a job… what’s he doing?” Kenma furrows his brow at Kuroo’s father, his insult stinging.

“He works the day shift at a bar actually, a friend helped him get it.”

“HA! Always knew he’d end up a drunk.” Kuroo’s father drifts over towards Kenma and falls back onto the couch.

“Kuro doesn’t drink.” Kenma spits, his head on fire; the anger lifting up like steam in his brain. The man looks over in amused antipathy at Kenma’s hostile statement.

“And what exactly are you anyway? Tetsurou’s… roommate?” He takes another swig the bottle emptying out into him. Kenma squirms at his statement, at the hatred bubbling in his stomach, he thinks he might be sick.

“I’m his boyfriend if you must know and I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Kenma turns and opens the door, holding it there astounded by his own assertiveness. His nerves shake under his skin, be he tries not to let it show, standing firm with false bravado.

“What?” His amused look fades into disgust and Kenma suddenly feel the threat of anger radiating off him.

“Me and Kuro are dating, now please leave,” Kenma says again and his voice almost breaks.  But the man just laughs, he laughs and almost chokes, coughing into his hand before laughing again. Kenma makes no reaction, his abhorrence for this man flying to tips of his finger, sparking a scowl that grows on his face.

“Now listen here, pudd'nhead, Tetsurou ain’t some homo.” Kenma’s infuriated, his fingers clutched and digging into his palms his nose scrunching up like a cat’s.

“Well, I’m sorry you believe that now I’m going to ask again-”

Kenma hits the floor with a thud and a gasp, the man’s hand clasped in his hair. Kuroo’s father pushes the door shut and lets it slam.

Keep reading

Him VIII

A/N: Ok so YALL PLEASE DONT KILL ME, proceed :)

-

Shawn’s P.O.V

Nobody knew about Y/N’s death, I couldn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t utter the words, I couldn’t accept it.
She was dead and the pain was too much to bear, I just wanted her back, I wanted her here with me and Derek.

I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that the love of my life died yesterday, so I trashed the place.

I kicked the table, I threw everything around and smashed the mirrors and I suddenly stopped when I heard Derek crying and whaling from my bedroom.

Yes I have taken Derek to my house for the day, staying in Y/N’s house was too painful for me. I picked up Derek and started to shush him and everytime I look into his eyes, I see a piece of his mother left within him which makes my heart break even more, the pain was too much.

After finally putting Derek to sleep I cried, I missed her. I hated her for leaving. I didn’t want anything to do with her, I didn’t want to remember her. I wanted to forget that she ever existed in my life, so I decided to erase every trace, every detail and everything she ever left or was in my life. But first, I had to tell her parents, because it wouldn’t be fair to her.

I hopped into the car and put Derek in his car seat and drove to her parents’ house and knocked the door waiting for them to open the door as I held Derek

“Shawn?” Y/N’s mother asked surprised

“Hi Mrs. Y/L/N.” I smiled guilty, I’m sure she hated me for what I did to her daughter

“Where’s Y/N? Has she come with you?! And… who’s this?” She asked looking at Derek

Keep reading

Surgery: Part 2

Yay!! More Logan angst! :}

Taglist:  @what-even-is-thiss @cup-of-blue@leesacrakon @ts-sideblog @storytellerofuntoldlegends @anonymous-snake@prinxietys @dolphin-squirrel @evilmuffin @fancifulfox @the-prince-and-the-emo @organizeddiscord @pantton-sandacers @thagrinbery @here-to-vent@justanotherpurplebutterfly @romananalogicality @prplzorua @softlogic @toxicsanders @remmythepegasis  @ukucanuck @gracefullyinsanedancingunicorn
@toebeans-andsocks
@fandomsofrandom@satisfied-sanders-sides@asexual-trashbag@loonierlovegood@softbludemon @galizy @i-am-a-fander @the-laarmy @thestrangest-of-them-all

(let me know if you want to be tagged or not in future updates)

Part 1 

(Sorry this isn’t very long. I thought it was a good stopping point. I hope your hearts shatter with mine! :’) )

”There are times when the greeting is more painful than the goodbye.”
—————————————————————————————————-

The object Patton clung onto for dear life was none other than a book from Logan’s room, with his old ice blue tie sticking out of the side of it. Virgil and Roman watched in sheer horror as Patton continued rocking back and forth, trembling with sorrow. His actions progressively got shakier with each wave of tears that hit him. Eventually, Virgil could not take anymore of this.

With no words, he gently but firmly grabbed a hold of Patton’s shoulders and brought him into his cold embrace, the book now being squished between the two aspects. Patton began to quiet his onslaught of wailing and froze in the arms of the anxious side. Roman didn’t dare move. He didn’t have the strength even if he wanted to, but once the moral aspect had stopped sobbing, the whole void’s atmosphere suspended as if it was frozen in time.

The torn cardigan still lay on the ground, next to pool of tears and the shattered spectacles. Virgil noticed these things as he looked at his surroundings, taking in everything to account. Suddenly, he felt something jab into his ribs sharply. Looking down, Patton was moving the book between them, trying to dislodge it. Anxiety reluctantly made some space between them allowing Patton to pull the object out and show it to him.

It was the first time he had seen the emotions fear and sorrow commingling at the same time in the father’s eyes. The look they shared at that moment, confirmed Virgil’s worst fears. Solemnly, he tore his gaze away and down to the book that Patton was now silently handing him. The hug finally ended as Virgil’s hands carefully grasped the worn edges of the book.

Just from the looks of it, he could tell it was a diary or journal of some sort. Before opening it, Virgil beckoned the fanciful aspect closer to him and all three sides sat on the ground in a position where they could each see the contents of the journal. The silence continued to circle the air, until the book was opened to the page the tie had marked. At that point, Virgil breathed in deeply before speaking the words on the page.

Tuesday. Seven Days before Thomas’s Surgery.

Hello Patton, Roman, and Virgil. This is Logan speaking…er…writing. It is the night of when the following information had first been revealed to me. To put it simply, The frontal lobe of Thomas’s brain is failing and it must be removed. The problem of this is that all of Thomas’s memories are stored in the frontal lobe. Every fact and situation that resides there will cease to exist in his mind. Because I am the embodiment of his facts and experiences, by inductive reasoning I will cease to exist in his mind. If I were…emotional…I might even go as far to say that I have failed, because if his brain has malfunctioned, then I have malfunctioned.

I am not sure what to make of all this information and I did not want you all to ‘freak’ about what was going to happen. Thomas asked me to hide this information from all of you. It did not seem logical at first, but now that I that I can predict how each of you would have acted had you all known my time was running out, it seemed like the best option. So, I took the information from the main room and hid it elsewhere. And that is why none of you will have recollection of these events stored in the disk located in the back of this book.

(It seemed as if this next part had been written not long ago. The ink was still somewhat fresh.)

If there is one thing I ask of you all though, please read through my writings before watching the footage yourself. This book contains my thoughts and processes as Thomas goes through his last seven days being ‘himself’. Yes Roman. I know it might be boring to you. But, I believe this is important information that needs to live on, especially if Thomas has any chance of reclaiming his lost memories.

By the time you all read this, however, I will be…dead…as a clear and simple way to put the inexistence of a being that once lived. I am mainly writing this introductory because I would like to apologize to all of you for my failure. My failure as a logical aspect and a failure to Thomas. I realize that this is a bodily malfunction and maybe not necessarily a thought process problem, but I am unable to decipher between the two at the moment. Perhaps, these accounts will give a clearer perspective on why I acted the way I did this past week. I will agree it was out of my character, but I did it because…well…I will let all of you put the pieces together. Call it my ‘so called’ death wish that my fellow aspects-er…family would like to enjoy this final puzzle in spirit…with me.

I do not like goodbyes, so I will say hello. I am now a figment of the past. You can choose to remember me or not. Even if you drop this book in the void when you are finished with it and forget I ever existed, it won’t matter, because I will never exist to Thomas again. But, because you are still reading and are clearly interested, please turn the page and join me, as we take a look into this past week from my point of view…

—–End of Part 2—–

Not Again (Pt. 2) || Cheryl Blossom

Originally posted by suirisblack

Requested : A lot of people (not really just like 4 or 5 people lmao) requested a part 2 for Not Again, so here it is! This is basically the thoughts of the reader while she’s having a a panic attack from realizing that she has a date with Cheryl

[A/N] : I didn’t proof read this, so if theres a mistake between the use of ‘I’ and ‘You’ please message me and I’ll fix it immediately.

Masterlist


Keep reading

I’m in a super Bellarke Conversation/Headcanon Mood...

So I really should be editing my novel, but you know what? I want to talk about Bellarke. I have a total of ONE friend who likes The 100 as much as I do, but I don’t think she’s as into Bellarke as I am. I’m also super into talking about everything about this show, and how amazing it is. Also, this may be due to the fact I binge listened to @metastation, so there is also that…

Anyways, I want to talk about something that people seem to overlook A LOT. I’m an English major, and when I was watching the first three episodes with my fellow English Major friend, we noticed something we were learning about in our Arthurian Legend class. Now, I have to explain this term before I go into it. My professor, Karl, had this term called eye beams. What this is, is when two people share a look that is so intense, it almost ignites something in them. So why am I bringing this up? The reason I bring this up is because when we were watching 1x02 and Clarke fell into the grounder spike pit, there were eye beams

(Image credit to @braveprincessrebelking)

I watched a clip of this scene tonight, and the staring goes back and forth for about eight seconds. IT IS INSANE. Putting things together, foreshadowing wise, makes me think that the writers have been building Bellarke since the very first episode. The enemies to friends to lovers trope is something done all the time. But the thing I find so intriguing about Bellamy and Clarke is their dynamics. They have one of the most well-developed friendships I’ve ever seen on TV (I like to forget the books exist because show Bellarke are 10x more exciting). 

So why did I start in season one? Because season five literally feels like the beginning again. We’re essentially getting a reboot of the show, and I can’t be more excited for it. Both shows I live watch did this (Once Upon a Time), and I’m excited to see where they both go. Though I am more excited about this one because of all the building up to it they did.

One thing I’m most looking forward to is their reunion. I’ve read sooooo many Bellarke fanfics about this, and for some reason they don’t match the headcanon in my head. I tried to write a fanfic about it, but I knew I could never do their characters justice, so I set it aside. Anyways, every time I think about this headcanon, I get little butterflies in my stomach. 

I’m gonna start with what we do know: the radios. We know that this is addressed in the very first episode (Eden). I’ve been reading a lot of fan theories, and they all think that Bellamy knows she’s been radioing. I almost think that’s too easy? Does this make sense? In order to create a bigger reaction between Bellamy and Clarke, I’d almost have him not know she’s alive. Not knowing someone is alive, and finding out they are, is way more satisfying (as the viewer/reader) than knowing. Because if Bellamy knows she’s alive as soon as his boot hits the grass, he’ll know he’s looking for Clarke and Madi. Whereas if they don’t know whether or not the other is alive, it creates this tension, an excited one, for all parties (Bellamy, Clarke, and the viewer). 

How do I picture it going? I’m gonna reference Wanheda: Part 2 (3x02).

Originally posted by bellarkeskebab

I almost picture their reunion (somewhere between 5x01 and 5x05) something similar to 3x02. The look of relief on Bellamy’s face when he sees Clarke is as clear as day. He immediately relaxes when he sees Clarke, and he lets his guard down, forgetting that her kidnapper is around. I picture something like this when they reunite. Obviously not in the same scenario (RIP Roan), but something that parallels it.

This is how I picture it going (in script format)

I don’t even know if I wrote that with justice, but I almost picture him with the most disbelief anyone can muster. That is how I picture that reunion, and I can’t tell you how much I am looking forward to the next season. Things like this keep me going. 

I’ve rambled on long enough haven’t I? If you want more of these posts, feel free to message me suggestions on any other headcanons/Bellarke theory you wish :) I love talking theory. I’m an English major, I’m supposed to like that stuff.