you are not worthless without god

anonymous asked:

so gang!phil interrogating rival!dan but phils usual techniques (slapping, hitting, etc.) are just turning dan on, so instead phil just edges him til he gives in 💙

Phil cracked his knuckles, sighing as he pushed open the door to the interrogation room. He was instantly hit with a rank stench, and he flinched, crinkling his eyes in disgust.

Dan Howell sat in the middle of the room, tied to a chair, a gag over his mouth. He didn’t seem to notice Phil entering.

He had a black eye, and a cut on one cheek, so it was clear the boys had had some fun with him when they had caught him. He was still pretty cute though. And despite all this, Dan’s eyes were dry.

“Dan,” he said loudly, and the boy looked up, glaring at him fiercely.

Phil stepped forward, yanking the gag down, and Dan immediately took this opportunity to spit at him.

Phil calmly wiped it away, and Dan laughed. Phil shook his head, fiddling with the straps of the gloves they used to make punches hurt the offender less and the victim more. It was an old intimidation technique, but Dan didn’t flinch.

“You’re a goddamn idiot, Howell.” His voice was low, and he leaned down so he was at Dan’s level, their faces inches away.

“Maybe,” Dan said slowly, staring him down. “Or maybe you just don’t know why I did what I did.”

Phil stepped back, putting his foot on Dan’s chair, his clunky black boot resting between Dan’s legs.

“Unfortunately for you, that’s why I’m here.”

Dan’s subtle smirk grew, and Phil couldn’t help but growl under his breath. He was infuriating.

“Why would that be unfortunate?” Dan’s voice was light; teasing. “You know I adore our little chats.”

Phil was reminded why Dan was used for things like this - he was the best spy imaginable, and when he got caught, he wasn’t easy to crack.

Phil didn’t hesitate to swing at him, slapping him in the face, hard. Dan’s head was thrown to the side, but he came back smiling. He yawned, a strand of messy brown hair falling between his eyes.

“Thanks,” he said, his eyes flashing. “I needed that. I was falling asleep.”

Phil grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him forward roughly and practically strangling him.

“Look Howell,” he hissed, and Dan’s eyes widened slightly. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. And either way, you’re gonna fucking tell me why you were spying on my base, and what you know.”

Dan searched his icy blue eyes, determined not to let his confidence waver.

“I think it’s gonna have to be the hard way,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Because I’m not telling you shit.”

Phil huffed through his nose, and grabbed a handful of Dan’s hair. He tugged back roughly, and Dan let out a soft whimper, of surprise or pain, Phil couldn’t tell.

Dan’s eyes rolled back in his head, and his exposed throat somehow made Phil want to bite him. Instead he fastened a hand around it, making Dan cry out.

“I could snap your fucking neck,” Phil growled at him. “I could slit your throat. Tell me everything, and it’s all over.”

Dan gagged softly, squirming in his tight grip. “No. Hit me again, fucker.”

Phil obliged, letting go of him just to backhand him. And it looked like it hurt like hell; the impact split Dan’s lip. But Dan fucking moaned.

His eyes glinted with red hot fire, a wild grin melting to his features. “Again,” he breathed, and Phil stared at him.

Dan was a mess; he was visibly shaking, he had a black eye and a lip that was bleeding down his chin. But he was asking for more…? What did it take to break this kid?

Phil glared at the boy, punching him twice in the stomach, and shoving him backwards. The chair toppled backwards, and Dan landed on his arms, his head hitting the ground as well.

He cried out in pain, but there was something else in his tone, a sort of whine, and oh my god, this was turning him on, wasn’t it?

Phil swallowed, moving to stand over Dan, hovering above him. Dan grinned at him cockily, until Phil grabbed his face with a firm grip, and he squeaked.

“You think this is hot, don’t you?” He asked quietly, getting as close to Dan as possible without being tempted to kiss his broken lips. Dan laughed.

“And you don’t?” He smirked. “Having me like this, completely helpless? Ruining my pretty face, fuck, like the worthless piece of shit I am.”

It all clicked in Phil’s mind- why no one could seem to make Dan break. It was impossible to get information from him, simply because he liked the abuse. It made Phil even more pissed.

Phil stood back up, grabbing Dan by the hair and pulling him and the chair back up. Dan whimpered; fire shooting through his head.

“We’re gonna try something a little different,” Phil said calmly, his voice coming out sickly-sweet. Dan shivered.

“Do whatever you want,” he spit, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I’m not saying anything.”

“Oh really? That’s too bad.” Without warning he leaned forward, his hands placed on either side of Dan’s hips, his breath brushing over the side of Dan’s neck. He ran his hand over Dan’s waistband, and then down to his (obvious at this point) bulge. “Guess you won’t be coming anytime soon, then.”

“Wha-” Dans breath caught and the words got stuck in his throat as Phil ran his fingertips over his hard on, certainly not making it better. “What d-do you mean?” He choked out.

Phil ignored him, pushing his hand into Dan’s pants, under his boxers, and ran his thumb over Dan’s tip.

Dan whined rather loudly, squirming on the chair, but the ropes made it so it was nearly impossible for him to move.

“Phil,” he breathed, trying to shift his hips away. “What are you d-doing…?”

Phil grinned maliciously. Finally, he had found something that would actually affect Dan. And he was going to have some fun with it.

“Mmh, just giving my whore what he wants,” he breathed in Dan’s ear, and Dan couldn’t help but moan.

Phil moved his hand, wrapping his fingers around Dan’s length. He watched Dan bite down on his bottom lip as Phil moved his hand, slowly teasing him, his thumb brushing over Dan’s slit occasionally.

Soon enough Dan was a whimpering mess, and he seemed to have given up any integrity he may have had left. His head fell back on the chair, his eyes closed, and he was attempting to rut against Phil’s hand while letting out an endless stream of high pitched moans. Phil had to be honest, it was sexy as hell.

Phil could tell Dan was getting close by the increase in pitch of his noises, and the way his hips stuttered. His cock was leaking precum, which made it easier for Phil to slide his hand up and down Dan’s shaft.

“Now,” he said softly, sweetly, even, slowing down his movements to a near halt. “Are you gonna tell me what you were doing outside the base, slut?”

Dan whined, his eyes opening, and he licked his lips.


“Answer the question.”

Phil stopped his movements all together, holding his hand at the base of Dan’s dick so he couldn’t cum even if he was able to.

Dan searched his face, chewing on the inside of his cheek before muttering, “no.”

At that Phil just smiled meanly, biting down on Dan’s throat and sucking hard, leaving a dark bruise in its place.

“That’s okay.” He laughed, and Dan looked almost scared. “We’ve got time.”

That began the next unbearable moments for Dan, with Phil scratching bright red marks down his thighs and occasionally leaving hickeys all over his neck and jaw.

And here’s the thing; Dan did not want to beg. He hated begging. Begging was admitting your defeat, and that was something Dan simply couldn’t do. But right then, Dan was probably closer to breaking down than he had been in his entire life.

He wanted to cum, he had been so close, and when Phil had stopped-

It was worse than any physical pain he could inflict.

When Phil started moving his hand again, Dan almost cried. He started slow again, gradually speeding up, stopping occasionally to flick his wrist around Dan’s head.

“Mmph, fuck,” Dan whined, his head falling back, beginning to lose his mind again. “Ph-Phil, please make me cum, please.”

“You wanna cum?” Phil growled softly, speeding up even more, and Dan practically screamed.

“Yes-! F-Fuck, n-need to…!”

Phil smirked, watching Dan’s face and admiring how he fell apart just from some pain and a hand around his cock. He was gorgeous, his face all roughed up and his hair falling in his eyes, sticking from sweat. Phil wanted to fuck his brains out, but then wasn’t really the time.

“Too bad,” he said finally, stopping again right when Dan was the closest possible.

Dan let out an incredulous noise, groaning, his hips bucking into nothing, desperate for friction.

“Fuck you,” he said breathlessly, his voice breaking. “Fuck you, Phil Lester. Let me cum.”

“Tell me what I need to know, sweetheart.” He dipped two fingers under Dan’s chin, bringing his face up. “Or, trust me, I could do this all day.”

Dan shook his head.

Twenty minutes later, and Dan was visibly shaking again. Tears streamed down his face, and he didn’t even remember when they had started. His hips constantly twitched, and he had to gasp for breath.

“Please.” His voice was soft and broken and desperate and sleepy; goddamn beautiful. “Please, Phil, I need it, I-”

“Aw.” Phil stuck out his lower lip, mocking him. “Poor baby. Poor desperate little whore, do you need to cum, my love?”

Dan shuddered, nodding frantically, not even above falling for Phil’s teasing.

Phil slapped him, the noice echoing through the room, and Dan moaned.

“Then tell me what I fucking need to know, Dan. It’s that simple,” he hissed through his teeth.

Dan whimpered, sleepily shaking his head. But then Phil’s mouth was on his dick, his jeans shoved down, and god, he had been close for an hour now. He just needed it so bad.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and he squeezed them shut.

Phil had been edging him for so goddamn long, he was going crazy. He was so weak, and every second that Phil touched him, he got closer. The very edge, and Phil’s hot, wet mouth was closed around him, humming, and fuck he was going to cum. It was right there, and then…

Phil pulled off with a pop, glaring at him. Dan could scream. And then he lost it.

“Phil, f-fuck, your mouth is so good, please-” he choked on the words, the emotion and need getting caught in his throat, and there were tears on his cheeks again. “Please, need to cum, please let me, p-please-” he hiccuped, shaking his head desperately. “Please, no more. N-No more, I’ll tell you!”

Phil smiled, drawing his thumb down Dan’s cheek.

“Mmh, good boy,” he hummed, and Dan soaked up the praise, nuzzling against Phil’s hand like a kitten. He didn’t care anymore. “That’s all I wanted. Tell me everything, and then you can cum.”

Dan nodded frantically, sniffing, the words spilling from his mouth like a waterfall. How he had been sent to scope out the new recruits, how his gang had been planning to kidnap one of the new kids, hold him hostage. Even how they had anticipated that Dan would get caught, and how he would try and get information on the inside as well.

At the end Dan broke down, a sob catching in his throat, still so fucking hard, his dick still leaking and straining to reach his stomach.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Phil said sweetly, fastening his hand around Dan’s cock for the thousandth time.

Dan sucked in a sharp breath, his head lolling backwards, whimpering softly.

Phil got him off in a matter of moments, and Dan moaned loudly and high pitched as he spilled over Phil’s hand and his stomach.

Phil untied him, seeing as he was practically passed out, and Dan slumped to the ground.

He stood over him, looking over the exhausted, broken boy laying on the ground beneath him, breathing heavily. What a gorgeous mess.

He leaned over, kneeling next to him and lifting his head up by his hair. Dan didn’t even react, except for glancing at him sleepily.

“Needless to say, you can’t go back to your gang,” Phil said calmly.

“You gonna kill me?” Dan asked, more like a statement, as if he didn’t even care what the answer was.

“No…” Phil hummed, letting Dan lay back down and running his fingers through his tangled hair. “I was thinking you’d stay here. With me.”

Dan made a noise of acknowledgment, licking his ripped up lips.

“If it means we can do that again, then I’m down.”

My fp: ends sentence with a period, doesn’t respond to my text for .05 seconds,

Me: what did I do? did I do something wrong? why is his response time .02 seconds later than usual? does he not like me anymore? what am I supposed to do without him? how will I be able to assuredly live alone, forever, because I will never find anyone else? god i’m such a worthless ugly person anyways no wonder he left me. you know what? fine! fine. I didn’t even like him that much. I don’t need him. he’s yesterdays news and like? that thing he said on August 13th 2015 kind of pissed me off anyways. i’ll find someone else! i’m reinstalling tinder right now. i bet lots of boys will love me. after all have you seen me? i’m beautiful sweaty :) get blocked :)

my fp: hey sorry my mom called!! i just had to let her in the house haha :)

me: so I was thinking a June wedding?


Mr. Van Houten. I’m a good person, but a shitty writer. You’re a shitty person, but a good writer. I think we’d make a good team. I don’t wanna ask you for any favors, but if you have the time - and from what I saw you had plenty - please fix this for me: It’s a eulogy for Hazel. She asked me to write one, and I’m trying, but I just… I could use a little flair. See, the thing is… we all wanna be remembered. But Hazel’s different. Hazel knows the truth. She didn’t want a million admirers, she just wanted one. And she got it. Maybe she wasn’t loved widely, but she was loved deeply. And isn’t that more than most of us get? When Hazel was sick, I knew I was dying, but I didn’t wanna say so. She was in the ICU when I snuck in for ten minutes and I just sat with her before I got caught. Her eyes were closed, her skin pale, but her hands were still her hands, still warm, and her nails were painted this dark blue black color, and… I just held them. And I willed myself to imagine a world without us and what a worthless world that would be. She’s so beautiful. You don’t get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she’s smarter than you, ‘cause you know she is. She’s funny without ever being mean. I love her. God, I love her, I’m so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, but you do have a say in who hurts you. And I like my choices. I hope she likes hers. Okay, Hazel Grace?

If you think you’re worthless, stop scrolling right now and read.

I’m writing this for a specific mutual, but it isn’t only true for one person, so read on.

You know those inspirational posts you see people reblog every day?

Stuff about people all throughout history who failed and went bankrupt and were depressed and were told they weren’t good enough - and yet somehow they rose above it and defied all those notions to become heroes and legends and history makers and culture movers. And the post always ends with “so don’t be hard on yourself when you mess up” and it’s all nice and sweet and pretty. Maybe you scroll past them. Maybe you hardly ever see them on your dash at all.

Maybe you’re among those who reblogs these posts.

But maybe every time you hit the reblog or the like button, your brain is whispering “this isn’t about you” and “yes people can do amazing things, but not you” and “ah yes amazing stories, too bad it will never happen to you” and you listen to these whisperings and you laugh and shake your head…

Because you know exactly where you stand: worthless. irredeemable. a loser. a lost cause.



Listen to me.

As your friend.

As a stranger who doesn’t know you. Who doesn’t have to know you, or your failings, or your depression, or your anxiety, or your embarrassments, or your deepest darkest most heinous crimes.


Just stop.

Look up. Look around you. Open. Your. Eyes. Are they open? Good. Keep them open. Don’t ever close them again. See the world. See you: a human being, valid, flawed, journeying, changing, growing, scraping, failing, rising, a masterpiece that will never be made again.

You are beautiful. You who think you are overweight and lazy. You are beautiful. You who think you are stupid and uneducated. You are beautiful. You who think you are a loser, and amount to nothing. You are beautiful. You who bleed and ache and never rest. You are beautiful.

You have worth.

Want to know a secret? If you wake up in the morning and tell yourself you’re not going to amount to anything that day, then you aren’t going to. If you go to bed at night thinking nothing will change tomorrow, then you are going to change nothing.

Because you’ve resigned yourself to that lie. And it is a lie, friend. A straight-out, soul-condemning, out-of-the-pit, self-deprecating, self-pitying lie. A lie you don’t have to believe. A lie you should not believe.

If you stand in the corner and bow your head and stare at the ground, you’ve already lost the battle without fighting. This is a surrender in which there is no honor, and in it there is no hope.

Life isn’t easy, friend. Life isn’t fair. It’s hard. And getting things done is hard. Some days, just getting up out of bed is hard. Just breathing. Just doing homework. Just going to work. Just trying to keep the dishes and trash from overflowing.

But we do it anyway.

Why? Because there’s life to live. There are choices to be made. Jokes to laugh at. Awkward conversations to be had. Art to mess up and start over on. Jobs to work. Pizza to be eaten.

We do it anyway.

So guess what?

You do it anyway too.

Why? Because of this:

You are special.

Right now, this second, turn off the voice that hears these Disney-fied words and scoffs and ignores them. Listen.

There is not a human being who has ever lived or ever will live on this planet that is not important, that is not here for a reason. No life is worthless, and most certainly not yours. My God doesn’t make worthless things, and he doesn’t make mistakes. There are no extra pieces in this universe, no spare parts. He made you. And he made you for a purpose, and that purpose is not to sit in your room, afraid to try, afraid to love, afraid to hope, afraid to climb and fall and hurt and get back up again.

Want to know another secret? You aren’t alone. Every single human being in the history of everything has struggled with feeling worthless at some point in their life. Every single one. That is not a lie. Your feelings of worthlessness are not what is special about you. You are what is special about you. The God who created you is what is special about you.

No matter what you’re going through, no matter what you’ve done, no matter what you have failed to do, someone else has gone through worse. Sometimes, a lot worse.

Oh, now you feel invalidated. “Why can’t I just believe in myself? Other people have it worse, I shouldn’t complain, I should just try harder, but I know trying harder isn’t going to help, so what’s the point.”

Guess what?

Stop that too.

Stop it dead in its tracks.

Kill that thought. Every day. Every morning. Every minute it shows its ugly lying face. Kill it and put it to rest. Stack headstones on top of it and move away, far far way, friend.

Don’t tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about. I don’t know where you’ve been, but you don’t know where I’ve been either. Don’t ignore hope because you think it’s for other people. Don’t keep yourself from making an effort, and pushing yourself forward. Bury the lie. You have worth. You are loved. You are important. God does not make worthless things.

One of my favorite lyrics says “How does it end when the war that you’re in is just you against you against you? You’ve got to learn to love, learn to love your enemies too.”

Learn to love.

Your enemy.


Start learning to see you the way God sees you.

See you the way I see you.




Just at the very beginning.

Every single day you wake up is a brand new start.

A bright new chance. Every. Single. One. You will never stop getting chances for as long as you are here, so why dismiss them? Isn’t that the most beautiful thing there is? You get to keep trying. Every single day. You have the gift to go again, try again, start again, live again, breathe again, hope again.

Guess what. When the morning is wasted, the afternoon is still there. When the afternoon is wasted, the evening is still there. When the evening is wasted, the night is still there. And then morning comes again.

So the next time you see a motivational post, an inspiring reblog, a story about how someone overcame something horrible, and turned it into something amazing, look long and hard and take courage, find hope in that. Stop dismissing it as being from a universe you have no part in. Stop putting yourself to that measuring stick and turning away because you’re not there yet.

You’re looking at the end result. At some point, they were standing in your shoes. They couldn’t see the end. They couldn’t see what they might or might not amount to. They had no idea, just like you now. Just exactly like you.

Hope, my friend. Every time you start to think “I can/will never” do this or that or amount to anything or accomplish anything… Hope. Stop those thoughts immediately. Kill them. Bury them. Never stop burying them. They are lies and you are better than them.

Drive them out. Open your eyes. Look around. Pick yourself up. Brush away the tears. “I will try. My God doesn’t make worthless things, so I am not worthless. My God does not create without meaning, so I have meaning. I am here for a reason. Today I will live to find out what that reason is for today. And tomorrow I will hope again.”

Life is hard, my friend. Stop beating yourself up. You are worth more and capable of more than you can ever imagine or hope or dream. Don’t let your past or present failures stop you or beat you down. Keep going, keep hoping, keep killing the lies. You are bigger than them, you go beyond them. And God is greater, and he knows your heart. Trust him. Wake up. Open your eyes. Move forward. Keep your eyes open.

“You’ve got all that emotion that’s heaving like an ocean
And you’re drowning in a deep, dark well
I can hear it in your voice that if you only had a choice
You would rather be anyone else

I love you just the way that you are
I love the way He made your precious heart

Be kind to yourself
Be kind to yourself

I know it’s hard to hear it when that anger in your spirit
Is pointed like an arrow at your chest
When the voices in your mind are anything but kind
And you can’t believe your Father knows best

I love you just the way that you are
I love the way He’s shaping your heart

Be kind to yourself
Be kind to yourself

Well how does it end when the war that you’re in
Is just you against you against you
Gotta learn to love, learn to love
Learn to love your enemies too

You can’t expect to be perfect
It’s a fight you’ve gotta forfeit
You belong to me whatever you do
So lay down your weapon, darling
Take a deep breath and believe that I love you

Be kind to yourself
Be kind to yourself
Be kind to yourself

Gotta learn to love, learn to love
Learn to love your enemies
Gotta learn to love, learn to love
Learn to love your enemies too

All you have to do is breathe. Release all your worries, your problem and all your disappointments in life. You may be having a bad day but that’s just normal and that’s okay. You may have lost of reasons to give up and sometimes you want to end everything, your life. Life is full of hardships, there are obstacles. You can’t get something in just a snap. You won’t experience smiles without tears. Everything’s a risk. Don’t ever think that it’s a bad life and you’re worthless just because of what you’re experiencing now. Remember, you are not the only person who’s going through something right now, some had experienced worst than that. But you have God who will never leave you, He will guide you all throughout. He won’t let you experience something that you can’t surpass. God is the greatest healer and also a mentor. Remember that, everything has its own way. Don’t ever forget to trust and believe in yourself.
Awolnation Inspired Sentence Starters
  • 1: "I am a human being capable of doing terrible things."
  • 2: "Run."
  • 3: "Hey!"
  • 4: "You people are mistaken if you think that I’m awake and celebrating anything that I’ve become."
  • 5: "This is how I show my love."
  • 6: "This is how an angel dies."
  • 7: "I blame it on my own supply."
  • 8: "Maybe I should cry for help."
  • 9: "Maybe I'm not listening."
  • 10: "Sail with me."
  • 11: "Last night I fell apart."
  • 12: "I may be worthless without you."
  • 13: "I'll never decide to replace you."
  • 14: "The worst is behind us now."
  • 15: "I’ve been running from it all my lifetime."
  • 16: "There’s nothing wrong with you, I’m searching for my right mind."
  • 17: "Oh, oh my God I think I might’ve made a mistake."
  • 18: "I’ll be watching from the center of the hollow moon."
  • 19: "They will never find me here."
  • 20: "I just want you to know."
  • 21: "Maybe all of these things made me who I am."
  • 22: "So thanks a lot for listening."
  • 23: "I know that nobody knows so don’t go."
  • 24: "But if you learn something take nothing from me."
  • 25: "I know that love is a terrible, terrible thing."

“Pray without calculations, without ulterior motives, not in order to gain anything. 
And if you make a thousand prostrations in order to gain entrance to Paradise, they are worthless. 
Make prostrations out of love, and if God wishes to put you in hell, let Him do as He wishes.  
That’s what selflessness means.”

~Elder Porphyrios

anonymous asked:

Hi can you write an imagine with red k Kara please

Originally posted by lenaiuthor

red k kara is super fun to write so if you guys want to request a part 2 to this or any other type of imagine with her, feel free to submit a plot ;)

You couldn’t even recognize her anymore. Your once sweet, caring and selfless girlfriend was now a cold, violent and cruel killer. When you saw her attack those innocent people on the news, you couldn’t believe your own two eyes. You knew Kara, your Kara, would never do something like that. You knew what it was before Alex told you. 

“Red Kryponite,” the DEO agent said, her voice getting caught in her throat. “I don’t think I can do this again, Y/N. Last time…it was horrible.” 

You quietly nodd your head in agreement. Luckily, you weren’t there the last time it happened, but you were told by Kara that if it ever were to happen again, you couldn’t let what she said hurt you. At the time, you didn’t think it would be so hard, surely you wouldn’t let some corrupted, evil version of Kara manipulate you. 

You were so wrong. 

You had an excruciatingly long and tedious day at work, and all you want is to get home and cuddle with Kara in bed and watch shitty chick flicks. A lump forms in your throat when you realise that your girlfriend is currently MIA, and you have no idea what horrible things she’s up to. 

You open the door to your apartement and your mouth drops when you notice that someone is already there. 

“Hey, babe.” Those two simple words, usually sweet and loving, come out of her mouth dripping with venom. 

“K…Kara, wh-” You stumble over your words, unable to form a proper sentence. 

“Shhhhhh…” She whispers. Kara inches closer to you and slides her hands onto your waist. You stare at her in awe, not sure what do to. You know this isn’t her. Everything about her is wrong. 

“I’m so glad I don’t have to hear you anymore, you worthless mortal.” She spat out the last word, like you were vermin. 

“Kara, this isn’t you, please stop-” You try to reason with her, but she won’t listen. She tightens her grip on you, and whispers in your ear: 

“I’ve never felt more like myself.” You shudder. Her voice is so different, so…vicious. 

“Y/N, life without you is amazing. And to think, I would’ve settled for a disgusting human such as yourself. A pathetic, vile, creature. Thank God I’ve been cured, I don’t know what I was thinking!” You know Kara didn’t mean it, you know it was the Red Kryponite talking, but shit, does it sting. 

“You…you don’t mean that-” Your voice cracks as Kara slams you against the wall behind you. You feel a flash of pain shoot up your back, followed by the sound of Kara’s laughter. 

“Poor baby!” she says, mockingly. She moves her hands up your body, slowly, and cups your cheeks. 

“I’m finally free of you.” 

That’s the last thing you remember hearing before she knocks you out cold. 

For Love | Older!Hiro

imagine one: older!hiro
word count: 1969 words

Too many people on board this train,

Staring out of the window of your taxi cab, you were horribly silent. You and your best friend, Hiro, had a huge fight about you moving away from San Fransokyo to Los Washington thanks to a college scholarship opportunity. The Big Hero 6 gang was happy that you made it to your dream college, but Hiro was not as elated as they were. Of course, as your best friend, he would be sad because he wouldn’t be able to see you in the cafe every day like you used to, especially because they were the Big Hero 6 - saviours of San Fransokyo.

I gotta find my way around, too many voices in my headgotta reach high, turn it down.

Too many tear drops on the floor, any more. Gonna kiss the ground right before I drown. Are you even gonna try to reach me?

You were devastated about the whole idea of Hiro going against you wanting to go to your college. As good as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, he really didn’t want you to go. For a whole week, he never contacted you. Every time you went to the cafe to try and approach him, he was nowhere to be seen. You barely spent a dime, or even a second in the cafe each time you walked in. But slowly, you began to walk past the cafe, in hopes that you would see your best friend - or rather, your crush. Never had you spent such a long time without contacting with each other, let it be verbal or non-verbal. It hurt you so much to the point that you told your parents that you wanted to go to Los Washington as soon as possible. As astonished as they were, they asked no further and decided on arrangements to your flight there.

Too many words stuck in this phone, but your voice ain’t even there. Too many nights spent home alonewith your laughter in the air, too many songs of the broken heart; try to shut you out but you’re everywhere.

You expected Hiro to try and contact you, in a way or another, but he never did. On nights, you slept thinking about him, waiting for his lovely goodnight texts to ring on your phone, but they never came. In the mornings, you tried to wake up as early as six o'clock. But without Hiro’s personalised ringtone resonating through your room, it was a struggle to wake up that early. Was he trying to shut you out? Was he ending your friendship in the worst way possible? His voice, the raspy voice of his would never fail to make your heart jump in joy as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. His smile, his oh so adorable tooth gap would just make the edges of your lips curve into a smile in the sneakiest way possible. His warmth. The only thing that would make you feel safe and secure from everything else evil and mean in the world, the protection it held and the security you felt whenever he held you in his arms … gone. Practically forever.

Are you even gonna try to reach me?
Is this how it’s gonna end?

“You know,” his voice echoed in your head. “You’re the most beautiful, most precious gem in the whole wide world.” It was like music to your ears, as he wiped thin locks of your (h/c)ed hair delicately, with a silly smile which made your heart flutter. Gone.

For love imma give it all; for love imma give it all; you and I let’s do it all. For love.

“What do you think would happen if both of us got married to the love of our lives?” You asked him, on one spring day as the both of you walked together, arm in arm. Hiro looked at you in the eye, before chuckling and shaking his head.

“I don’t think that’ll happen,” he had a faraway look on his face as he faced northward, the pastel pink cherry blossom petals dancing gently accompanied by the wind’s soft breeze, the bright blue sky spread with sprinkles of clouds. It was a sunny and clear spring day, which was definitely a good day to spend it out. It couldn’t have been better if it were with Hiro.

Too many paper-shaped stars falling out of broken jars, too many unforsaken scars. If it hurts, bleed it out on this guitar.

It was the day marking the fifth year of your friendship, and the day that you broke up with your boyfriend who dumped you over somebody else. Locked up in your room, sobbing in a curled up position, you wished that Hiro was there for you. But he wasn’t; he was busy fixing and upgrading Baymax in SFIT. You even doubted he remembered your anniversary together, and you were right.

The whole day, you spent bawling over one guy who shamelessly dumped you for another girl on the streets. She was gorgeous, and definitely flawless. What you saw in your eyes were obviously not what you were in comparison to such beauty. You lost, there was no doubt in that. But the strength and support you needed from Hiro to get through the day was not there. The warmth, the comfort, it was missing.

You build your glass house round your heart, like a work of art break it and we’ll never be apart.

You were nearing the airport, passport in hand and music filling your ears to distract you from Hiro’s absence. He was a huge part of your life, and without him, you felt worthless and weak, like as if there was a giant-sized hole in your heart. A giant, Hiro-sized hole in your heart.

With shaky hands you paid the driver the cab fares before proceeding to get your luggage out. Silently and mentally, you were praying that Hiro would come. You were practically begging to the gods above you to make him come, to convince him to meet you and convince you to not leave. You didn’t want to leave. Not without the boy whom you loved dearly on a bad note, not withour making amends.

Your eyes shifted from one side of the traffic to the other, from one pavement to another, in hopes to see the familiar, wild jet black hair, or even a glimpse of his deceased brother’s dark red moped. But no, he wasn’t there. Guilt and regret began to swell your mind, and your heart began to grow heavy as you dragged your luggage to the entrance of the airport.

Where was he?

Are you even gonna try to reach me? Is this how its gonna end?

Your breathing was somehow choppy, and you weren’t in the best of state. In your heart, you were screaming his name in dreadful tears. In your mind, you were already running back to Lucky Cat Cafe searching for the boy and never leave. As much as you wanted to run away, and leave your scholarship opportunity hanging, you couldn’t, for you knew that there were people watching and you were convinced that Hiro hated you since the fight. More, if that was possible.

With your (f/c)ed luggage rolling behind your feet as you weakly dragged it to where you would get your tickets for your flight to Los Washington, you had a lump in your throat and for no particular reason at all, you felt cold and sick.

For love imma give it all.

You were walking around the airport, waiting for time to slowly tick by for your flight. You were waiting for his arrival. With light chatter filling the air of the airport, you were reminded of the memories that you spent in the Lucky Cat Cafe.

For love imma give it all; for love.

“Flight 38C to Los Washington is delayed due to the dark weather. Please await for further announcement.”

“Praise the lord,” you breathed upon hearing the announcement, your knuckles turning white as you laced your fingers together in an attempt to keep yourself warm from the icy air conditioning at the airport. But nothing would be warmer than Hiro’s embrace.

For love imma give it all, for love imma give it all.

Time was ticking. It was ten minutes into the delay, and you were glad that there was at least a half an hour delay. Well, at least that was what the announcer said.

You were getting restless, your mind was completely out of place, and your heart was beginning to sink at the thought of Hiro not appearing amongst the crowd, searching frantically for you.

You and I lets do it all.

Where was he? It was already near the time where your flight would arrive. And sooner or later, you would have the need to board the plane, which meant farewell. You weren’t ready to say goodbye, you knew you weren’t.

You were trying your hardest to not think of Hiro. He will come, you told yourseld. Just give him some time; that was all he that he needed.

Your heart was racing, and your mind was beginning to go insane.

Where was he?

The last thing you needed was to board the plane without saying farewell to Hiro. Your heart was dreading to board the plane as you lined up with your passport and plane ticket in hand, your skin pale and ice cold from the air conditioning as your knuckles turned white from gripping on to your passport, awaiting his arrival.

As you got closer to the checkpoint with the police officers, your heart completely dropped. He wasn’t turning up.

With a heavy heart as it was your turn, you brought your hand up to pass your item of identification to the officer when a hand yanked you out from the line and back into the waiting house.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), please don’t go, I’m begging you,” Hiro’s familiar warmth enveloped you as his arms wrapped around your small frame. He was heavily breathing, and his tears were staining his cheeks and soon enough, the shoulder of your clothing. “Please, I didn’t mean what I said, I was being an asshole, please.”

His words only made your grip around his tall and lean torso tighter, as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, wetting the surface of his grey hoodie. “I’m not going anywhere, Hiro. I’m not going anywhere.” You sobbed into the fabric of his clothes as you breathed in the fragrance of his cologne.

“I love you, more than a best friend. You’re my everything, please, I don’t want you to leave; I need you in my life!” He cried harder, his arms wrapping around you with a little more strength as he choked his words out.

The words leaving his mouth caught you off-guard but you quickly recovered as you pulled away from the hug with his oval-shaped face cupped in your small hands.

“You love me?” You whispered, with a soft smile gracing your face. Hiro nodded as you wiped your thumbs across his soft cheeks in an attempt to clear his tears. “Real or not real?”

With a swift move, he crashed your lips into yours. Both of your lips molded lovingly as you shared your very first kiss with each other, the one which held the most meaning and passion as the both of you felt sparks erupting in your bodies.

After a short while the both of you pulled away, foreheads against each other as the both of you caught your breaths. His dark, chocolate eyes gazed into your lovely, (e/c)ed ones with a goofy smile.

For love.


His Comforting Smile

Originally posted by faintedhues

Tate Langdon 

warning : Angst and possibly triggering content and Bad words 

“I was a kid, that was pushed around, i was not liked nor cared for, i lived with my aunt after my parents abandoned me. 

I must sound like some ungrateful little bitch, huh? 

You think you know what happened, but do you really? 

I was always told to appreciate, even the most ludicrous of things, but how can i appreciate when i don’t even have the time to…. 

but at some point i did…. he…he showed me how…. 

oh god.. he was absolutely stunning, he was gorgeous, a hunk, a sweet guy.I didn’t notice it until he spoke to me, without spitting in my face and telling me how worthless i am. No he was rather comforting , he just smiled and said ‘hi’ which i found comforting

I know it sounds weird right, but it’s something about him, like if he understood everything , like he knew what was going to happen. It’s like he knew me…

Never in my entire life did i find myself liking a fellow human back,but he, T-Tate, he was different, he didn’t think like the others, he was intelligent. He had his own thoughts and his own world And i wanted to be part of it. 

I appreciated him. He made me happy. 

He was my first everything 

my first kiss, my first boyfriend, my first-

I’m getting carried away…But he’s my everything 


His comforting smile ever left, even on the day he died, even if he shed some tears he smiled at me, it was comforting, but once the smile fell from his face, i felt the world crumble down, i remember how much i hated everyone and everything, how little life meant to me. 

My life meant so little without him in it, i needed him, he was like my own brand of heroine, he was my drug, and i was driven crazy without him. 

I needed someone to hold me and whisper sweet nothings and send me that comforting smile. 

But i could never find anyone like that, nobody was like him, nobody would ever be like him. 

That’s why i loved him, no I love him.. but ill never have the chance to tell him. 

Rest in peace, to the love of my life “ 

She places a rose above his grave within the rain and walks away 



“(Y/N), no, no…”, he mumbles into your ear sobbing, but you are already gone. Minho can’t and won’t believe it that you died in his arms. Desperately he closes his eyes hoping that you would be still alive when he opens them again. You saved Chuck’s life, but it doesn’t change anything for him.
“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). So sorry”, it’s hard for him to hold back his tears. The others just stare at your limb body in his arms. Minho doesn’t even notice them anymore. The only important thing in his life was you. Everything he ever wanted and cared about.
It was his task to keep you safe, but Minho has failed. His better half is gone without a goodbye. Ripped away from his side, because your heart is made out of pure gold. He would never see your sweet smile again. He would never make you laugh again. He would never enjoy is life again…

In the first moment he doesn’t know what’s happening, when you fall into his arms bleeding. “(Y/N)”, he whispers your name shocked and scared at the same time. Softly he lies you on the ground with your head in his lap. A slight smile appears on your lips for the last time, then your beautiful clear (e/c) eyes lose their loved shine.
Newt puts sobbing a hand over his mouth not progressing the fact that you are gone forever. “Please, no! Look at me, (Y/N). Everything is going to be alright”, he isn’t quite sure who he is comforting. Your limb body in his arms or himself.
They almost made it out of the Maze, but the price was too high. You maybe saved Chuck’s life, but who should save Newt now? How is he supposed to live without you by his side? Tears escape his eyes as he presses you against him. He always loved to hold you in his arms, but it’s different now. Everything has changed…

Your name is the only thought that’s in her head as you collapse on the ground. The bullet wasn’t meant for you, but with your golden heart you couldn’t let someone else die. “(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N)”, Teresa whispers your name over and over again to get your attention, while she strokes your head softly.
The beautiful (e/c) she has loved are dull now. The life run out of your body and Teresa couldn’t do anything against it. You were the best thing that happened in her life, but good things doesn’t last long. This nightmare of a Maze claimed your soul just a few steps away from freedom.
Thomas puts his hand on her shoulder friendly to show her she isn’t alone with her grief. But they don’t understand how it feels to lose the love of your life. Teresa’s only hope was to live a normal life with you away from the Glade and the Maze. Now she is alone…

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N)”, he whispers the words, while he tries to hold back the tears. They escaped the Maze, but Thomas couldn’t keep you safe. Everything he has worked for is worthless now. He doesn’t want the god damn freedom anymore when he can’t have you by his side.
Just a little moment destroyed his life. Just a little step closer to you, then you would be still alive. The bullet wouldn’t have killed you and ripped him away from him. Of course Thomas blames himself that you died in his arms helplessly. He couldn’t save you, just whispered sweet nothings in your ear to comfort you until your heart stopped beating.
That was probably the worst moment in his life. Without a word he wipes the tears away. Even simply reminding your name feels like a stab into his heart. What is he supposed to do with freedom when he can’t share it with you? It’s going to be a lone and sad life without you…

“That’s your fault! You killed (Y/N)!”, he points his gun at Thomas. It was his job to keep you safe and sound, but you went with Thomas and the others into the Maze. Secretly Gally blames himself that you died. He should have stopped you. That’s the price he has to pay now. Dealing with your death.
“She sacrificed herself”, Thomas explains almost crying. It wasn’t his plan to leave you behind, but there were too many Grievers. “Why her? Why (Y/N)?”, it’s the only question in Gally’s head. The only person he cared about and loved. To see your limb body in the Maze was worse than anything else.
Tears are running over his cheeks. You were his princess. You belonged into his arms, but fate has ripped you away from him. Gally doesn’t really care what’s going to happen with him. The only wish he has is to be with your again. Even if death has to claim his body like yours. He’s ready…

anonymous asked:

What if Italy gets kidnapped by a woman, hands and feet are chained up and instead of toture he is verbally abused "Where is your nazi now, huh?" "You are a worthless piece of shit that doesn't deserve to be alive" "Doesn't that make you angry, faggot?" "You are such a weak pussy because you let me insult you without any consequences!" "Stop whining and be angered instead you would love to kill me, don't you?" "JUST WAKE UP AND DO WHAT WILL FREE YOU FROM YOUR MENTAL CHAINS!"

((My god y r u torturing this little boy))

Being verbally abused himself doesn’t harm him instantly. It does get to him and the words will be in his head forever. Sometimes in quiet moments, they just come back to him and break him slowly, over time. He smiles the pain away and only one person can identify this fake happiness: Romano.
What hits him instantly is the insulting of friends and family. It always killed him to hear someone mocking Romano or insulting him, and it makes him so angry that he starts crying if someone refers to Germany as a Nazi. “IF HE’S A NAZI THEN DO IT TO EVERYONE!!! TELL AMERCIA HE IS A SLAVE HOLDER, TELL SPAIN HE BURNS INNOCENT PEOPLE AT THE STAKE AND TELL ME I AM A FASCIST!!!!”

Say It Out Loud


T for language

Summary: Roxanne is harassed by a fellow reporter who doesn’t seem to understand the meaning of the word ‘no’. Megamind punches him. Roxanne would like Megamind to admit that this is not exactly standard supervillain behavior. 

“Come on, babe, let me take you out,” Bradley-from-Channel-9 says to Miss Ritchi cajolingly.

Megamind, handcuffed and leaning back against police car, rolls his eyes.

Of course, all other newscasters are inherently inferior to Rox—Miss Ritchi. That goes without saying. But Bradley-from-Channel-9 is in a special class all his own. A low class. He’s got that smarmy grin and that perfect newscaster hair (Megamind hates the perfect newscaster hair) and that general air of I’m-so-much-cooler-than-everyone-else that makes Megamind’s skin crawl and reminds him forcibly of shool-age Metro Man.

Metro Man is standing a little way off, talking to another group of fawning reporters. He should have ignored them long enough to make sure Megamind was being arrested properly. The idiot cop that handcuffed Megamind with his hands behind his back—surely everybody knows that you want Megamind’s hands where you can see them?—has now abandoned Megamind beside the police car in favor of trying to get the attention of yet another inferior newscaster, a woman with blonde hair and a grin like a shark wearing lipstick.

Megamind slips the lock picks from his sleeve. He’s totally going to escape before he even gets to jail; this is going to be great.

Keep reading

Not Your Dean (Part 8)

Originally posted by supernaturaldaily

Summary: One day Dean shows up and moves back into the bunker. The only problem is he’s a demon and he’s hiding something…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Pairing: Demon!Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Angry Dean, eek…

Keep reading

The Will To Win

“ If you want a thing bad enough to go out and fight for it, to work day and night for it, to give up your time, your peace and your sleep for it
If all that you dream and scheme is about it and life seems useless and worthless without it
If you gladly sweat  for, fret for and plan for it  and lose all your terror of the opposition for it
If you simply go after that thing that you want with all of your capacity, strength and sagacity, faith, hope and confidence and stern for tenacity
If neither cold or poverty, famish or gout, sickness or pain of body and brain can keep you away from the thing that you want
If dogged and grim you be size and beget it, with the help of GOD you will get it”

- Berton Braley

experiment 93094

Mark | 3967 words | robot!au | fluff
anon requested: robot!mark and you being his owner.

You spent four years working on Experiment 93094, but then the director of the robotics lab tells you to shut the project down.

Keep reading


Get to know me meme [2/10] Movies: The Fault in Our Stars
Mr. Van Houten. I’m a good person, but a shitty writer. You’re a shitty person, but a good writer. I think we’d make a good team. I don’t wanna ask you for any favors, but if you have the time - and from what I saw you had plenty - please fix this for me: It’s a eulogy for Hazel. She asked me to write one, and I’m trying, but I just… I could use a little flair. See, the thing is… we all wanna be remembered. But Hazel’s different. Hazel knows the truth. She didn’t want a million admirers, she just wanted one. And she got it. Maybe she wasn’t loved widely, but she was loved deeply. And isn’t that more than most of us get? When Hazel was sick, I knew I was dying, but I didn’t wanna say so. She was in the ICU when I snuck in for ten minutes and I just sat with her before I got caught.

Her eyes were closed, her skin pale, but her hands were still her hands, still warm, and her nails were painted this dark blue black color, and… I just held them.

And I willed myself to imagine a world without us and what a worthless world that would be. She’s so beautiful. You don’t get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she’s smarter than you, ‘cause you know she is. She’s funny without ever being mean. I love her. God, I love her, I’m so lucky to love her, Van Houten.

You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, but you do have a say in who hurts you. And I like my choices. I hope she likes hers.

Over a month ago I asked for some folks to send me some sort of fanfic drabble prompt, and I did one of them from by pal Healthbloge, and now here’s the other. It took waaaay longer even though much less happens in this “story” but hey, I had a life-changing exam to deal with at the time. Whatevs.

@supernovakirby, here’s your vaguely KakaSaku piece! The one I told you is mostly about Sakura going fishing, but then I extended it because I could, and here we are. KakaSaku and a slight undercurrent of a fear of the deep sea and stuff like that. 

Writing something almost canon-like is dark territory…


They sent her to the Land of Waves, to a far-off and wet corner where there was no economy and the longest and most curious finger of the reigning government could barely even sense that a human civilization patch existed in that thick fog. She was here to go fishing.

And fish she did. Sakura was equipped with an old, forcibly-aged piece of crap fishing rod and forcibly-aged piece-of-crap clothes. She had scraped up a handful of outfit with input from Ino. Her last conversation before leaving home in February had been a back-and-forth dialogue about clothes and ugly shoes, mostly Ino’s ugly shoes. They laughed and laughed before Sakura left, with a bag of ugly clothes. The most pleasant goodbye she’d had in years. Thinking about it made her feel warm.

February was eight months gone, and Sakura was somewhere near a fishing village with no name. She was alone and lived in a shack the size of three small closets that she built herself by the nameless lake. She built it after she passed through the voiceless town and made peace with its thirty-one illiterate locals. Though they had spears pointed at her at first and made many a threat about seductive witches and her strange “blood”-colored hair, their suspicions could not hold after she cleared cataracts from the elderly and burned the symptoms of pneumonia off of their sick children.

Now, they let her be, and now Sayuri the strange southern medicine woman got occasional visits by appointment. The visits this whole month had been few, and thank goodness for it. Eight months was the timetable she had been given before leaving home. Was it nearly time? How close was the estimate? Sakura thought about it all the time, and stayed out most of the day fishing, as usual.

She watched the lake, and listened to the creatures around it. It was the method of the mission, anyhow. “Sayuri” would “meditate” by sitting and fishing, but underneath this façade, Sakura Haruno waited and watched. In accordance with the objective, most of her days were made up of sitting against a large rock, a nearly concave rock, clearly a seat of many fishers before her, and listening to the water while holding a fishing pole in her hands.

She heard small animals moving and breathed softly, listening for the soft, soft footsteps of a human who intended to be hidden. She listened, for months, but never heard any such thing. The villagers’ tromping down her road was easily distinguishable, and they had yet to be an enemy in disguise. But she’d be a fool not to prepare for it daily.

For that reason, she only rarely allowed her mind to wander. In between her long stares over the water and many soft breaths into the mist, in between mental judgments of fish-sound or rabbit-sound or owl-sound, she did, occasionally, drift. And among the hours and hours of quiet and water lapping and nothing changing at all, she would think about something else 

Sometimes she recalled passages from books, or conversations with her friends, or tried to recite songs backwards. She was alone, sometimes bored, currently jittery. It was near.

The pole hadn’t shook or vibrated for near two hours. And tomorrow was a Monday. Her mind was the only calendar; she’d judged any written records to be a bad idea. On this Sunday evening, she fished the lake, for hours, as usual. Watching the water, and feeling its vibrations. She thought about learning to paint, and perhaps painting fish whenever she got home. She didn’t even really like fish. At all. So maybe the long reeds instead. No matter what subject she thought of painting, nothing felt suitable. Or comfortable, all of a sudden.

Around this lake that felt as though it had become hers, reeds grew without direction, silver crickets made pleasant noise in defiance of any season, and some pale and sleepy pink blossoms constantly drew her eye and made her think of Ino. The lake’s wide expanse wasn’t entirely visible thanks to the mist and this quality alternately made Sakura feel protected and not. Today, she felt…tense.

It was something like six in the evening, she deduced. And so warm, for November. The crickets were a bit louder than usual. At one point a fish actually slipped its head above the surface to bat its lips at a fly on the surface and Sakura started so hard her fist put a hole in the rock ground next to her. her. All the cricket noises stopped. Sakura growled and pretended she wasn’t embarrassed.

The crickets started up their careless noise again, but her shoulders remained taut. She inched her legs out from where they were curled up against rump until they eventually stretched down along the rocky ground and onto the lower bank where some dirt was scattered. Another foot or two further, the lakewater lapped forward and back and again. A breeze pushed it a bit further up. She shivered.

Eight months, it had been. Doing this. Day after day. Was Ino’s hair longer, or cut shorter by now? Sai could have sold a hundred paintings, or moved to his new place at last. She thought about Naruto, too, maybe he would have laughed when she punched at the ground just now. She stopped short when the fishing pole bobbed.

Her hands squeezed the pole. A bite! Finally, something! It was pulling down, almost straight down.  She reeled in the line, quietly, just in case. The fish pulled back, again, further, and Sakura yanked the pole back.

Once it came up over the surface and splashed sideways back into the water like a helpless drunk. An idiot’s smile had fully bloomed on her face, and she almost laughed.

Quite suddenly, the fight stopped. The line went slack and whisked back towards her. Sakura could nearly see the shadow of the fish floating near the surface, like a slack and weak fishing line itself.

Sakura instantly stood up and observed the rest of the lake, or what she could see of it smothered in mist. Multiple shadows had appeared on the lake surface, a dozen, twenty, more. They came side-up or belly-up, instantly dead. Their mouths hung open in something like shock, or displeasure.

Sakura threw her worthless fishing pole onto the ground, and began walking up the shore. Around the shore. Around the whole lake, if she had to.

Eight months? Almost exactly eight months. This had to be it. Oh, god, truly, it was time.

Surely it was, for if it wasn’t, there was another unseen force killing the marine life, and something unexpected had come to this place without her notice.

‘Are you here? Please!’ she thought, or perhaps said aloud. The shoes Ino had helped her work into a state of purposeful, convincing wornness were soaking up lake water. Again and again she spotted dead fish or dead frogs on the surface, but nothing more. No change, no people, no attackers? What was this? What else would there be?

Her hands didn’t shake, but her heartbeat was so strong she felt it in her throat. Dead, dead, oneo of them missing an eye and blood dribbling out of the mouth. So many. She spotted a blue-striped reed bass that had given her the slip three weeks before. Ha, the damned thing died and good riddance. The thought wasn’t welcome.

Just as it slipped out of her peripheral vision, she saw, and stopped. Her body was shaking, hands and shoulders and feet and everywhere else. It was true. It had worked.

Some thirty feet out into the lake was the shape of a man, wading forward. His torso was slathered with underwater weeds the color of a corpse’s skin. His clothes were unrecognizable, and dark. Underneath the sounds of the water being pushed, she heard his breaths. The only sounds left in this place, she thought. His face was unmasked and gasping.

Sakura went immediately forward and smiled. “Kakashi!” she said. She waded forward, but only a few steps. He was walking forward at an even pace. Unchanging. “It’s Sakura. I’m here to retrieve you. Do you understand? Are you all right?”

One of the reeds clinging to his shirt slipped away. It was small, but weighted with water and it plopped as it sank into the water. It was small, but it bothered her that he did not react at all. In small steps he came towards her. She stopped moving. The water was up to her knees.

“Speak to me. Prove to me that you’re Kakashi Hatake.” she told him, louder than before. “Do you understand?”

One arm, and the opposite arm and shoulder suffered some sort of strong twitch. They tried to rise up or reach, but couldn’t. The head lifted slightly. It was no walking gait for a human, unless something was gravely wrong. But she wasn’t swayed either way. Sakura remained in her spot, and repeated herself. She also added, “What did you say to Tsunade when you left, Kakashi? Tell me now.”

Another step forward and another, smaller piece of underwater plant slid off his shirt and reached for the water. And this time, the head raised up again and stayed up.

He spoke, thank God. “Prommissse ttooo…” Sakura reached forward slightly. Her eyes had widened at his guttural, weak voice.

Kakashi’s legs began to shake, and his steps were suddenly small and fast. Desperate. He could reach her in second. She prompted him again with, “Tell me your promise or you’ll never leave this lake.”

“Wrrrite newsscrolll!” he gasped. Sakura closed the final few steps of the gap and held him up before he could fall face-first into the shallow water. His body was soaked through and it immediately spread onto her own clothes. She could hardly care about that, or that he smelled like a fish barrel. His muscles were twitching and even his chin bobbed slightly against the back of her shoulder. 

With one arm over his shoulder and the other around his hip, she walked backward, carrying him out. His feet and legs dragged on the lake bottom. He put forward no effort to helping himself through this last stretch, and did not object when Sakura turned him and lowered his body till he sat down. There was no convenient rock here for him to lean against, so she lowered him again till he lay in the dirt. And within seconds that was soaked, too. All throughout, he breathed heavily through a gaping mouth.

Sakura felt at his neck for a pulse. She expected and received a count easily in the 180s, like the man had been sprinting with wolves at his heels before he came up through the water. She tore away the remaining reeds, and moss bits, and pieces of broken shells—and teeth? Small, needle-like fish teeth—till only his odd clothes remained. A plain, perfect black tunic that she imagined slaves wore to work in fields long before the founders who built Konoha had lived. Pants of the same make, but the ends were shredded in ribbons so thin and fine it seemed even the motion of his walking could have shaken them off. Sakura lifted some of them with two fingers, and saw Kakashi’s bare ankles.

It wasn’t present on his feet, but from the ankles upward, her old sensei’s leg was smothered in thousands of red punctures, each one miniscule as a fish’s single tooth. Dozens. Hundreds. Were they fish teeth? Fish bites? Even Tsunade’s long-ago examples hadn’t been so small. She wasn’t familiar with what creature had done this.

She grazed one finger across his calf. Fifteen or twenty bites fit under her index finger alone. At the drag of her finger, Kakashi’s leg spasmed weakly and his toes attempted to curl in.

“Do they hurt, sensei? Itch? Burn? Tell me what happened.” Sensei, like old times. An accident, but she only cared about it a little. She looked up from his spotted calf. “Can you even speak?” She went up and over his legs and pelvis and hovered over his face. Oh, she hadn’t seen this face in a year. His mismatched eyes found her with a great effort.

“Blink twice if you can’t speak. If your voice is strained.”

“I’ffnn.” Perhaps he tried to nod, or perhaps his head and shoulders had twitched.

“What does that mean? ‘I’m fine?’ You’re not. Stay still, I’ll soothe your throat.” Her right hand hovered over his throat. The neckline of the tunic was soaked and old and ruined enough that it sank down and left parts of his pectoral muscles exposed to air. They weren’t solid and lovely muscles anymore, not wholly anyway. He’d lost weight and muscle mass everywhere. His collarbone, shoulder, even his nipples had been bitten through. Some had bled, she could see, and scabbed and been torn open or had the bloodflow run off by water.

While she observed, she gathered a smoother, warmer bundle of chakra between the spaces of her fingers, and moved small, soft threads into his throat. There were fewer bites there, but his throat was indeed swollen. He would need to cough up some bits of moss, too.

He was trying to nod again, it looked like. The fool. Maybe he was hallucinating as well. That would put these bites into another class of wound entirely. She pressed down on his left shoulder right her right hand and said, “Stop moving,” offhandedly.

But he tried again, stronger. This time she looked and frowned at him. “What is it? What are you doing?”

She saw the attempt immediately after. It seemed pathetic. He jerked his shoulder only to try to jerk the arm up in turn, to reach up at her. Sakura saw what he was wanting, and helped him put his arm around the back of her neck. And—with no discernible wounds on his torso, in the stomach—she reached her own under his left shoulder and pulled him up until he was in a sitting position, embracing her. He felt warmer than he had moments before. 

His right arm came up of its own strength and slapped down across her back as well. His face pressed into her shoulder and the touch of his face and mouth felt so strange after such a long time, but worst of all was that he shook. Oh, he shook and shook and held so tight that she was scared.

“Actually…hhherre. You’re here?” he was trying to say.

“I am.” He sighed into her shoulder. His hands were weakening already. They kept a soft grip on the fabric of her shirt. It had been months. “I’ve been here since February, waiting for you to show up.”

“I missed you. Missed you.” He leaned forward into her, pressing his face to her shoulder, her neck. His hands made one final stand at grasping the fabric of her shirt, and fell simultaneously. Sakura shivered for a moment. His own tremors had stopped.

“I worried that you were dead, wherever you were. She didn’t tell me where you went.”

“Sakura, what’sss…th’month?” She told him it was November, though the weather might not make it seem so. “Oh. Oh, it’s…been longer th’n I thought.”

Sakura fought down a second bout of shivering when she realized that his clothes were still dripping, still soaking her own. She gently pushed his head up and out of the crook of her neck, and laid his whole body down again, slightly aside from the puddle that marked where he’d just laid. “Where were you? It wasn’t in my own mission objectives to know where Tsunade-sama sent you. But that’s over with now. Please tell me. If you want to. How did you get to, to the bottom of this lake?”

“One of the…the…a fish, that I followed. It knew this way. I followed.”

His weak body and hazy eyes left her guessing as to whether his mind was still clouded by fatigue or wounds. And he wasn’t giving anything else. Sakura considered stripping the tunic off of him entirely. Somehow it was still waterlogged.

“What does that mean? You were swimming in this lake, with the fish? For a year? It’s barely a mile across.”

“I don’t know. It w’s underwater. Caves. The fish from in there wouldn’t fit in this lake. An’ I couldn’t find him. So I’m, mmm—” Her old sensei’s eyes began to roll back in his head. Sakura grabbed for his head immediately, but they were already coming back down. The eyelids followed. “Sakura. Less’go. Please.”

The mission was nearly over with. The only piece left now was a long walk home. She touched his throat again and cooled its swelling with her own chakra, and did the same over his left shoulder and pectorals. That alone would take her close to an hour to do thoroughly. The bed in her “shed” might not fit him. The fisherfolk might think she summoned a spirit to live with her.

Kakashi’s own chakra was just as depleted as his physical state suggested, and he even fell asleep before five minutes had passed. Sakura smoothed over every spray of bites that she could find. She removed the strange tunic in the end and threw it into the lake, where it promptly sank. The dead fish remained on the surface, but a few birds did come by to peck at them.

“I can’t wait to go home,” she told him, as though he could hear. For now, she finally heard the sound of her own chakra swirling in a patient. She heard the familiar water lapping and thought of a thousand things to do once she finally returned home.


Meh, I’m satisfied with the “story” just fine. I’m also super-satisfied that I got some practice with remembering what my own writing “style” looks like. It’s hard coming back to writing things after a long period of nothing and seeing that all the words you put forth look like bland cardboard. 

The main idea I attempted to put forth here was that Kakashi was on a mission to pursue either a large, powerful fish who could hopefully be contracted into being a summoning animal. Unfortunately, he found that this fish lives in a strange, supernatural waterworld where fish the size of whales roam around, and the fish in question, Kakashi found, was already eaten by another fish twice that size, and really, humans should just stay the hell away from this place. The one door to teleport him out of there wouldn’t open up for months either way. So he floated in there like a li’l fish, stealthily hiding from big fish till he could swim home.  Oh yes, and Sakura was meant to assist/carry him on his journey home, so she was dispatched to nonchalantly wait by the “exit” and see him home safely. And Kakashi is extremely happy to see a familiar face and get the fuck out of Dodge at last. 

Now, Kirby just asked for a KakaSaku story, and for the longest time this thing sat with just that long description of Sakura going fishing every day. This story’s about 3,000 words and I wrote 2,300 of them in one sitting of about 3 hours. Aughh, feels good. What a great Friday. 

anonymous asked:

•Why do you even /want/ to marry me? I'm worthless... I'm a screw up... I'm broken... You're a god, I'm nothing but filth.... I don't deserve you...•

Anti had made his choice, he walked towards the old stable and finished off his bottle of Jim bean, he refused to be without him, he couldn’t live like this..

•The room fills with silent gasping, the sound of rope twisting along the wood, his shadow could be seen as the sun had finally risen, it was suppose to be a good day…..

| Happy Birthday our little queen Papa and Daddy love you! |