i am torturing myself i swear

She touched my wounds and squeezed intimately, pushed her soul into the worst of me and marked her goodness there. She breathed love in the closed, empty rooms of my tortured soul and brought me back to life. She laughed with my demons and cried with my angels. She showed me what I should’ve done with myself to heal, but she didn’t know she did enough when she grabbed herself close to me like I make her safe, like I’m her home, this.. I swear was enough to make me forget about how damaged I am.

Seeing that centipede on the last page, I honestly just wanted to burst into tears. I’m drained Ishida. d r a i n e d. Seriously I can’t take anymore tragic things happening to Kaneki. Especially right now where this is probably the happiest he’s ever been (not incl false happiness as haise) after a ridiculously long list of tragic things. Never have I wanted to rescue an MC from their own story more.

I just can’t do it. That friggin satanic gross centipede has appeared in the manga like some ugly omen every time something /seriously/ bad is about to happen to Kaneki. Like not the usual every day tragedy that gets thrown his way, but extremely serious life altering crap usually at the hands of torture. And I swear to god I SWEAR TO GOD if (lol why am I saying if, we all know it will) it involves Touka I might have to take a break from the manga to collect myself.

ambivalentcats  asked:

I Am So Sorry I swear I will stop myself and these asks this is the last one (I can't write that well but have Many Ideas) but Lance who kind of loses his sanity after being captured/tortured and/or Dark!Lance


ugh anyway here’s the prompt and its ally bad bc i used it to write to get over my block sO SORRY YOU CAN REQUEST MORE IF U WANT 

tw gaslighting tw abuse general tw bewarb

daym 980 words, almost 1,000 lol

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[Mark] Teacher's Pet (Chapter 65)

All Chapters

“You know what? Don’t marry him.”

The countdown finishes, and I find the picture again in my screenshots, and study it more closely despite the tears blurring my vision. His hands are on her hips, he’s holding the keys of the car he offered me, and he’s slightly pushing her up against the car. What the ever loving fuck? I don’t understand. Did he give her the car?

Why are they kissing? Why? Why her? Why an ex of his? A woman who never loved him? Why? Why?

My heart twists in my chest and starts to ache. No. No, he didn’t.

He wants her. God, he wants her. He’s kissing her.

He’s with her.

He’s cheating on me with her.

Is that what was going to keep him busy this week?

I don’t understand. He asked me to move in. He told me he loved me. He said he missed me. Why?

I feel sick.

No. I shake my head. No.

This is not true. This can’t be true. Mark loves me. Mark only loves me.

I dial Bea with shaky fingers. Her phone rings and rings for an eternity, but she eventually picks up.

“Bea, what the hell is going on? What’s that picture?” I choke out. I don’t want to cry. He’s not cheating on me. It’s a mistake. A misunderstanding.

“Max and I were walking around and I saw them! They were kissing, Abigail.” She says. No. I don’t believe it. I do believe it. The pictures flashes in front of my eyes, and I try to blink it away, letting tears escape my eyes.

“I took a picture and told him off.” She adds.

“What did you say?” My throat tightens.

“I asked him what the fuck he was doing, and when he opened his mouth I told him I had already sent you a picture and that he was a cheating asshole.” She explains.

“He said it wasn’t what I was thinking, and I flipped him the bird. Called the whore a whore.” She mutters.

“What did she say?”

“She went like ‘humpf’ and said nothing.” She replies.

“Then I left and I took your call.” She adds. I close my eyes, letting the reality sink in. He cheated on me. Mark, the love of my life, the man who I thought worshipped me, cheated on me with one of the women who hurt him. Did they even hut him at all? How could he go back to one of them if it was true?

“Were they really kissing?” I ask quietly. She stays silent for a moment, and I hear her inhale deeply, and then sigh.

“I’m so sorry, Abigail.” She murmurs.

“Thank you for telling me.” I say before my silence leaves room for ugly crying.

“No problem, I’m coming over.” She says.

“Okay.” I say before hanging up. I look up at Andy, at complete loss. I’m confused, but moat of all I’m hurt. I don’t understand a thing. I don’t under why this happened, but at the same time I understand it did happen, and it hurts so bad.

“I’m sorry, Abigail. I don’t know what to say.” He gently strokes my back, and my phone rings again. It’s Mark. Before I can stop myself, before I can torture him y giving him the silent treatment, I take his call, wanting hear what he has to say, wanting him to make it all go away.

“Baby, I swear to god, it’s not what you think.” He says as soon as I pick up.

“I think you and Ellie, one of the woman who used you as their toyboy, never loved you and hurt you, shared a kiss. Am I wrong?” My voice is shaking and my tone uneven. He just has to tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll believe him. Despise the picture, I’ll believe him.

“No, you’re not, but-” Fuck! I end the call, not wanting to hear more, and a sob erupts out of me as my gut twists violently.

“Shit. Abigail, come here.” Andy slides of the stool and stands in front of me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against his firm chest. My shoulders shake as I cry, clinging to his T-shirt, dampening the fabric with desperate tears.

“He asked me to move in with him.” I start hiccuping.

“I know.” He strokes my back and kisses the top of my head.

“We were doing great, I swear. We were perfect.” I sob. We were perfect. We were happy. I don’t understand. I don’t understand. My phone buzzes again, and I pull away from Andy, glancing down at my screen. It’s a text. From Mark.

Baby please hear me out.

He calls again, but I don’t trust myself to pick up. Andy and I watch as his picture lights up my screen, and as the call ends. Another text comes shortly after.

Let me explain.

He calls again.

Answer your damn phone dammit!

Another call. “Ignore that prick, Abigail.”

Baby you can’t do this. You can’t dump me without giving me a change to explain.

He doesn’t get to make demands, he doesn’t get to ask anything from me.

Three more calls, and then nothing. For a moment, I stare at my phone. And then it comes, the text that makes my insides splitter.

You said you’d never leave…

The faint sound of the doorbell wakes me up. I blink my eyes open, disoriented. I’m warm and comfy. I find Andy looking down at me with cautious eyes. I’m on the floor of the kitchen, in his arms. The doorbell rings again, repeatedly. Someone is harassing me.

“Hey.” Andy says.


“I think the prick is here.” He informs me. I rise from the floor, turn on my heels and walk to the stairs.

“Where are you going?” He calls after me. Fuck if I know.

“In my room. I can’t right now. I can’t.” I reply, my voice breaking again. I don’t want to see him.

I lay down on my bed, and suddenly he starts to bang in the door.

“Abby, open the damn door!” I hear him yell. Andrew enters my room, taking cautious steps, and crouches down in front of me.

“I’ll get rid of him.” He says to me. I raise an eyebrow at him.

“How?” I ask. He winks and me and stands, before throwing his T-shirt over his head. Hus muscles roll and flex as he tosses it to the side. Damn. Now that’s some chocolate cake. But what the hell is he doing. He ruffles his hair, messing it up, pulling at it and twisting it until it looks messy. He looks fucked. Then he turns on his heels and leaves. Wat was that? I hear him climb down the stairs. He’s not going to answer the door, is he? Not like this! Mark will think-

The fucker!

“Andy, no!” I cry, rushing behind him. I don’t need this. I don’t need more drama. And I can’t predict Marks reaction. What if he hits him? When I make it down the stairs Andy is yanking the door open. My heart stops. Oh god.

“Who the fuck are you?” Mark’s voice resonates inside as he snarls. Shit. I take rushed steps towards the door. Andy is leaning on the doorway, his elbow against the doorframe above his head.

“You’re here to grovel?” He sasses back. Mark’s blazing eyes diverge to me.

“Abby, what the fuck?” He hisses, glowering at me.

“Hey, you’re the one who cheated.” Andy reminds him. I want to face palm myself. Mark glares at him, forcing his way inside, bumping into Andy on purpose. “You better fuck off, kid.” He mutters.

“Listen, you can’t stay. My parents are coming home, I don’t want them to see this.” I lie. They’re not coming back until tonight, but I just don’t want Andy to see this.

“See what? See you run into another guy’s arms because of a misunderstanding?” He spits. Is harsh words feel like a slap across the face. They struck me.

“Andy is a friend.” I says quietly.

“Did you fuck him?” He asks. What? The venom in his voice makes me shiver. Who the hell does he think I am? Him? He broke my trust, he got caught red-handed, while all he saw is Andy’s bare chest. This is an insult.

“Leave.” I hiss. Now, I’m mad at him. I am mad at him for cheating on me, and I am mad at him to thinking I’m some kind of slut.

“Answer me.” He snarls.

“Did you fuck her?” I counter.

“So that’s it? Revenge? You pick up some random guy because you think I cheated on you?” He spits.

“He’s a friend, for fuck’s sake, and you did cheat on me.” I reply.

“Did you fuck him, Abigail?”

“Get out!” I yell. I don’t have to endure this. I don’t have to hear this. I don’t owe him an explanation. He should trust me. He should know I’d never do anything he did.

“There’s no way I’m leaving you with that prick.” He bristles just as Andy comes and stands next to me. It reminds me I don’t want to do this in front of him.

“If you want to save what’s left to save, then you better leave.” I say more quietly.

“Let me explain, dammit!” He yells.

“Get out of here!”

“And let you cheat on me?” He retorts. I ball my fists at my sides, itching to slap him across the face. Angry tears spring to my eyes.

“Fuck you!” I scream, bursting into tears.“Get the fuck out of my house, you asshole!”

Mark’s features harden some more, and he grabs my wrists, pulling behind him as he walks towards the stairs.

“Let me go!” I cry, trying to yank my arm away, trying to fight him.

“She said no!” Andy comes between us and grabs my arm. Mark turns abruptly and his fist collides with Andy’s nose in a quick, measured punch. Andy lets go of me and stumbles back. Shit! This is exactly what I didn’t want.

“Are you crazy?!” I yank my arm out of his grip and glare at him through my tears. He’s a fucking inferno. He has to leave now. Andrew puts his fingers under his nose and sniffles, seeing if he’s bleeding or not. He’s not. Thank god.

“She’s mine.” Mark grinds out, glowering at him. He looks insane now, furious, out of his mind. I know what those words mean, but Andrew doesn’t, and he must think Mark is dangerous.

“Crazy motherfucker.” Andrew moves quickly, stepping between him and I and hiding me behind his back, backing away from him. He’s trying to protect me from my boyfriend.

“No.” I push him to the side and stand in front of him, holding my arms spread. It’s Andrew who needs to be protected from my boyfriend, not me.

“Andy, go upstairs, please.” I say without looking at him. Mark only glares at him. When Andy doesn’t move, I turn my head to look at him.

“It’s not what you think, really. Please just go.” I murmur. He gives me brief ‘scream if he touches you’ look and slowly walks away, brushing past Mark and climbing up the stairs. I let my arms fall down and look at Mark impassively.

“You’re not in the right position to act like this.” I shake my head at him.

“Did you fuck him?” He asks again. I snap.

“Yes!” I scream. “Yes, I did! I fucked him everywhere in this house.” I lie, but I’m more than happy to do so. He thinks I’m a slut, well I am a slut. He takes a step towards me.

“You didn’t even let me explain.” He grinds out.

“You didn’t have a gun on your temple, Mark. There’s nothing to explain!” I counter.

“So you just run away and cheat on me.” He grumbles.

“Oh, because I’m still you girlfriend? After what you’ve done, I’m still your main chick?”

“You are still my girlfriend. You’re still mine.” He hisses.

“No, I’m not.”

“You promised-”

“You promised you’d never cheat!” I cut him off. He can’t hold my promises against me. He broke them first, he cheated.

“Everything you’ve said to me for the past seven months lost all its sense when you shoved your tongue down that bitch’s throat. And so did all the things I said.” I mutter.

“This is by no means over, Abigail.” He bristles at my words. How can this not be over? How can I possibly forgive him? For cheating on me and for insulting me like this?

“You ruined everything.” I whisper, shaking my head.

“You’re leaving me again.” He says. “For a fucking kiss.” He grinds out, shoving both of his hands in his hair. He paces up and down in front of me, and I sense his agitation.

“Why do you do this?” He asks me. “How…after everything we’ve been through…how can you-” He chokes on his own words and stops abruptly. He closes his eyes and regains his composure, and when he opens them, his look is chilling. He’s impassible. I’ve seen this look before, but today, it just makes me shiver.

“You never fight for us.” He says. My jaw falls open. So this is my fault, now?

“You never fight like I do. If you don’t love me enough to at least hear me out, then I don’t see what we’re doing together.” He says. Wait, what? He’s leaving me? After he cheated on me he’s the one walking away?

“You know what?” He prompts.

“He can have you.” He throws his hand in the air and walks backwards. “I’m done.” He says.“I’m fucking done fighting alone.” He turns on his heels and walks out of my house, and my life, slamming the door closed, making my bones shake. Then there’s silence. A heavy, infernal silence. A glimpse of what it’s going to be from now one.






Then, I feel a stab in my chest, cutting through my heart. It’s splintering in thousands od piecez. My eyes burn. I’m sick. Bile rises in my throat. I’m sick. I’m alone, I’m sick. My body can’t handle this. I fall on my knees, my hands on the ground, and I start dry heaving.

He left.

I never fight for us.

He left.

I never fight.

He left.

I never fought.

And I lost.

I throw up spectacularly. The pancakes I’ve had for luch looking disgusting in the beige liquid. I cough and throw up again, and again, forming a huge stinky puddle of vomit on the floor.

“Shit!” Andy curses, rushing to me. He kneels next to me as my breakfast exists my throat. Then he gets back up and leaves, and comes back and kneels, a hand on my back, rubbing me in circles while I empty my stomach. Empty.

When he thinks I’m done, he gently wipes my mouth with a tissue, stroking my back up and down in a soothing manner. I burst into tears.

“I fucked up.” I sob. I lost him. I lost him again. He left me. Andy craddles me in his lap and rocks me back and forth, wrapping his arms around me.

“No, Abigail. You did nothing wrong.” He murmurs. “He’s a manipulative son of a bitch, making you believe it’s about you.” He says. Was he trying to manipulate me? Andy cups my face and makes me look up at him, plunging his eyes into mine.

“It’s not your fault. He. Kissed. Her. He cheated.” He articulates. I sniffle, his words slowly sinking in.

“He cheated on me.” I repeat, needing to say the words to convince myself.

“Yes, he did.” He nods. This is not my fault. He cheated, and I can’t forgive it. This is not my fault. I repeat the mantra in my head, over and over again, hoping it’ll travel inside and put the pieces of my heart back in place.

I’m a disatser by the time Bea arrives. I’m on the couch, curled into a ball, wrapped insid my fluffiest blanket, and Andy is on the armchair accross me, gently caressing my hair as we watch an old episode of friends. I hear her walk closer and closer to us, and at a moment Andy’s hand freezes in my hair. Bea appears and crouches in front of me. All high ponytail and green eyes.

“Hi.” I croak. She gives me a weak smile and strokes my face with her knuckles.

“Hey, baby. How are you feeling?” She asks.

“Like shit.” I reply. She gives me sympathetic smile and turns her head towards Andy, who’s been silent since she arrived. I look up at him, and he looks frozen. He gapes at Bea, shock written across his face.

“Hi.” She says tightly. He swallows audibly, his eyes growing wide.

“Hi.” He replies eventually. What is wrong with him? There’s something different between these two. Like we’ve never been friend before. Did they fight? I push these thoughts out of my head for now.

“Did he kiss her back?” I ask Bea, and she snaps her head towards me.


“Did he stay still or did he kiss her back?” I ask again. She knows. She knows I’m looking for excuses. I want to go to him, badly. I just need a reason. I need to know it’s my fault. She pulls out her phone and shows me more pictures of the scene, Mark’s hands curling around her hair like he does when we’re kissing. My heart breaks some more.

“He kissed her back, Abigail.” She says. Oh, god. My eyes sting again. I’m going to cey. I want to throw up again. There’s nothing to fight for. It not a misunderstanding. He cheated on me. Willingly. He cheated on me, and he tried to blame me for not hearing his excuse. It would have been a lie. He’s a liar.

The slap is violent and harsh. We were so happy. We were perfect. I don’t understand. I couldn’t possibly have see it coming. Not her. Not one of his exes. Why? Why did he do this to me? The images flash across my mind again, and it’s enough to make me weep.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” Bea murmurs, hugging me tight, anx Andy starta caressi g my hair again. I hide my face with my fists and cry, forever, until I have nothing left. Andy and Bea comfort me in silence, whispering reassuring words. Andy tells me I’ll find better. He doesn’t know how wrong he is. Mark was the best.

My parents call to say there staying in San Diego because Fanny’s health is deteriorating, and it’s just perfect, because I don’t want them to see me so miserable. Andy takes his travel bag out of the trunk of his car, torturing me with the smell of his worn socks so I eat a little. Then we all get ready for bed, and Andy pulls out the mattress I keep under my bed while Bea is in the bathroom.

“We use it so Bea doesn’t hurt herself when she falls off.” I say in a way of explanation.

“Still a massive fidget, I see.” He mutters.

“Did something happen between you two?” I ask him, sliding under my covers.

“No. I just thought I’d be more excited to see her. I’m not. Well, I’ve always preferred you.” He tucks me in and and kisses my forehead.

“Don’t say that.” I scold.

“I’m joking. C'mon, try to sleep.” At his words, I start crying again. I know I’ll have nightmares. I might without him, and a night after he left me. It’s hell.

“Shhh. You’ll be alright, Abigail.” He croons softly. Oh, maybe I will, bur it’ll take time. Right now, I’m just going to sink further and further down in hell. Maybe I’ll see light someday. But right now darkness surrounds me, smothering me, killing me from the inside.

The mantra doesn’t work, and now I’m here. Andy will kill me. I’ve stolen his car and drove to Makes place. I’m not sure what I came to find. Sleep, maybe? Peace? Love? I know I won’t find what I really want, what I really need: something that legitimate him kissing her so passionately. I want him back. He’s mine. He can’t leave me. I’ll get him back. Somehow. I have to.

I glace down at the clock on my phone. It’s four in the morning. Do I wake him up? Do I just lay down next to him? Do I even go in?

With shaky hands, I open the door of his apartment with my key. I close the door with ginger carefulness. His apartment is in the most complete darkness. I pat the wall, looking for the switch, and as I find the plastic thingy, light blinds me. I squint and rub my eyes, before looking around.

The living room is empty, and on the ground, next to the coffee table, lay a pair of wedgies. My heart stops.

The wedgies she wore on the picture. It’s her shoes. On the couch there’s her white bag. She’s here. She’s here, at night. She’s here. She’s here.

I walk down the dark hallway and slowly push the door of his room open, peeking. The blinds are lifted and the moonlight gives me enough lightning to see. I see him. He’s in nothing else but his boxer briefs, sleeping soundly, his hair freshly fucked and messy. He looks gorgeous.

And then I see her.

She’s in a T-shirt of his, sleeping peacefully next to him.

And then I see them.

He’s all over her. His head on her shoulder. A hand on her breast. A leg thrown over hers. He’s all over her. He holds her like he holds me when we sleep. He holds her like he wants her.

He holds her like he needs her.

This is it.

I walk away from the scene, walk away from what he and I had. I leave my key on the kitchen island. I leave my heart in his apartment. I leave everything I have inside, because everything I have is his. My heart, my soul, my happiness, I leave it all there, where he can screw it all and spit on it.

I spend a lot of time alone. Most of my time is spent transporting myself from one destination to another. In the mornings I wake up at 7:00 AM and press snooze on my alarm. The alarm goes off again 15 minutes later, which allows me exactly 15 minutes to put on clothes and get out the door by 7:30 AM. I pry myself out of bed. This is the most difficult part of my day. Getting out of bed feels like actual torture. I have always been this way. Even as a child I had a hard time waking up in the morning. The cold air outside my comforter feels piercing and hellish, despite living in Los Angeles where the temperature almost never goes below 60 degrees. Every day when I wake up I swear that I would pay any amount of money to sleep for just one more hour.

Mira Gonzalez, Love Letter

Prophet of the Lord (part 10)

Angel: Gabriel
Reader: Female
Words: 1278
Author: Scruff
Warning(s): swearing, season 9 stuff, torture (mild compared to part 9)
Note(s): Continuation of: “What if Metatron hadn’t “flipped the switch” fast enough after Kevin’s death?”
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
because I am really not wanting to go to work tomorrow, I am drowning myself in writing.
Metatron has you as his prisoner.  He’s taken great pleasure in torturing you–coming up with new an inventive ways to cause you pain.  But maybe, there’s one thing–one insignificant, annoying, glorious thing–he hasn’t thought of that could just be your saving grace.

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