Not Enough Aang And Gyatso Out There...

Saw this meme going around so I decided to make one for them because Jinshi would definitely do that

DUDE THE DARK JOHNNY FICS ARE KILLING ME you ate them up please write more pookie!! It can be any concept but if you can’t think of one I was thinking, Johnny went to go shoot a film and just wanted you sitting at home being pretty, until you decided to pack everything that was yours and leave like entirely(let’s say to a different state or smth) clothes,shoes,bags, everything gone and he goes bonkers trying to find you or whatever LOVE YOU POOKS😘😘😘😘

OOOOHHHHHHH LOVE U MORE POOKIE BEAR

dark star!johnny cage > i'll find you

you hit your limit with johnny and abandoned the life he trapped you in. to say he isn't happy is a major understatement.

warnings: yandere johnny boy, abusive relationship

notes: i love how collectively mentally ill we are, love you babes

part 1 | part 2 (SMUT) | part 3 (SMUT) *

*parts are one-shots, this is not a consistent series.

• things were going okay, so johnny thought. gifts were pouring in, the media seemed happy, and you were quiet. quiet was good to johnny. it meant you ran out of energy to protest. what he didn't realize, though, was that you were quiet to avoid raising suspicion.

• "i'm locking the doors, baby, so no parties for you," johnny would tease often about you running away or hosting parties while he was gone, but regardless he always remote locked the doors when you were left on your own. to him, you were like a puppy that was raring to leave at the crack of an open door. "they've got me filming a night scene and i told them i'd rather kill myself than film in a fake night studio, so we're gonna be out late. remember the rules?"

• johnny had rules with you, to make sure you stayed in line. you nodded and recited them. no leaving without permission, call before bed, and to not cover the security cameras. johnny nodded with approval, kissed your cheek, and was gone with a quick "good girl. love you."

• your smile faded away when the door shut. you instantly sprinted into the master bedroom, locking yourself in the joint bathroom. it was the only place without cameras.

• he had a habit of searching through your personal spaces and devices. however, one of the places he didn't check was your sink cabinet. he found feminine products gross. remember when i said he was immature? yeah. this was the best time to take advantage of that.

• behind the wall of pads and tampons was a large duffel bag cramped between the sink pipes. in it was all of your necessities and then some you purchased with his credit card. you'd sneak them into the bag using one of the designer purses he once gave you after cheating on you.

• after removing it from the cabinet, you set it atop the toilet and squeezed in one last shower. lord knows when the next one you'll have will be, or if hotel bathrooms are as luxurious as the mansion. perhaps it'd be the one thing you'd miss truly.

• when you get changed, you put on three layers of clothes and stuff the rest in the empty gaps in the bag. the expensive clothes and absurdly elegant jewelry stays behind. nobody needs that to be happy. freedom would make you happy.

•you had been periodically depositing money from johnny's account into your own secret checking account, one you opened without his approval. he needed to monitor your purchases, so he instead just gave you a credit card in his name. over the last year you'd move small quantities over until you had enough to run away and sustain yourself. sure, it was stealing. but is a multi-millionaire going to miss a few thousand?

• when you were sure everything was packed and ready, you squeezed yourself through the small window in the bathroom and took off as quickly as you could, careful to stay in the blind spots of the cameras you'd studied prior. you then climbed onto a long distance bus, showing the ticket you purchased weeks in advance, and you were off.

• it didn't feel real at first. you watched malibu fade from the bus window, glancing around at the ordinary people sitting alongside you. you were so disheveled and definitely not dolled up, people probably wouldn't recognize you. you purchased the first ticket available, one that was taking you to arkansas. hundreds of miles away, and loads of people to blend in with. nobody would think to find you there, since it had nothing awaiting you. you managed to stabilize yourself and recollect your plan you meticulously planned in your head while the hills rolled with you.

• after a couple hours of shooting, johnny sat in his little diva throne and opened his phone to his surveillance app. tapping through his home, panic set in when you didn't appear on a single camera. maybe you were in the bathroom, he thought. after waiting, you never emerged. the house was empty.

• one new voicemail.

• "hey-y-y," johnny's nervous, gritted laughter played through your phone. "i'm not seeing you on the cameras. call me."

• one new voicemail.

• "seriously, woman. where are you? this isn't funny."

• one new voicemail.

• "i'm coming home. you're making me leave work early. i'm gonna call the fucking cops. you think you're so smart? you've got two hours to come home, and if not, i'll find you, whether you like it or not."

• you snapped your phone in half, discarding it at the bus's front trash can.

• johnny arrives home, slamming doors open and turning every piece of furniture around. chairs fly across the room, your once neatly organized closet is torn to shreds. he finds your belongings short of his usual counting and puts it together. you ran away, you—

• johnny sinks to the ground, gripping his hair so tight he's nearly pulling chunks out. he's laughing so hard from mania that drool is rocketing from his mouth with the Textbook Crazy Eyes.

• he texts and texts, probably well over a couple hundred times. the messages remained undelivered, yet he kept barraging the deactivated number in hopes that the next message would come through. surely he couldn't get the police involved. "hey guys, my girlfriend ran away from me because i controlled her entire life!" yeah. that'd end in handcuffs.

• so instead, he lies. it's his specialty. he dials 911, and channels the mania into a false desperation. he sobs into the phone, claiming that you're extremely mentally unwell and must be returned to him ASAP.

• johnny spends the next week posting your face everywhere on social media. you and him become, yet again, the talk of the country, but for once it seems like a genuine concern. with the way he painted things, you were insane and in danger if you were away from him, and you needed him to protect you. johnny painted himself as the savior, making charity campaigns to raise money for search parties. his home is full of gifts in your honor.

• he'd drink and smoke, something he didn't usually do, just to relieve this insane stress. he felt like his other half became untethered, like his entire world was falling apart. as much as he controlled you, he really did love you in his own fucked up way. he needed you, more than you needed him. you were the one person that would agree with him no matter the situation. he loved how you made him feel.

• meanwhile, you're basking in the sun by the hotel pool as you browse nearby apartments. it felt foreign to make your own decisions, and you had zero concern over whether or not the place would be up to his par. it was up to you now, and you loved it.

• you just had to hope that johnny wouldn't find you himself. lord knows what he'd do to you.

smiley smoke is my favourite smoke

:D

revert to clingy creature

I’m here.

✩Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where Mattheo is spiralling and he needs a way out. He doesn’t expect to find it right in front of him. Alternatively: He doesn’t realise he is loved, by you.

A/N: Riddles 🤝 Internal Monologues. I’ve postponed a smut to write this because my heart belongs to angst. REQUESTS ARE OPEN 😻

Warning: Mentions of Abuse, Child abuse, Substance Abuse, Unhealthy Family environments, Depression. This is quite a heavy read.

Mattheo liked to think of himself as an independent person. It wasn't of his own volition, of course. He didn't exactly have the most supportive home environment. From the day he turned up to Hogwarts after the summer holidays, with scuff marks on his shoes, ragged clothing, hunger gnawing at his insides like a ravenous beast and a bruise spattering the left side of his face, he learnt that the world would not show mercy on him. No, Mattheo had to do it on his own.

He did indeed feel grateful for his friends, who didn't need to utter a word in their support. It wasn't hums of sympathy or pitying looks. It was them brushing off his back when he fell, it was saving the work for him when he had rough evenings, it was pouring him a coffee when he sat down for breakfast without saying a word. Their friendship was not reflected in their words, no, for words were futile. It was in their actions. And Mattheo would be eternally grateful for them.

But even then, it was he who was surrounded by so many, who felt the most alone.

He couldn't ever speak of his issues, he didn't think he ever could. His friends loved him, but not in the way unconditional love came. It need not be romantic, no, Mattheo was not a fool. He didn't care for that when he could barely get himself together. But his deepest secret was not his family's past, nor was it the hidden bruises under his uniform.

Rather, it was that Mattheo simply, had the most terrible, incredibly human need, for love.

For the sort of love that would let you look at the most broken down, raw parts of a person, and still speak of them with reverence.

It tears at your skin. It digs its claws into your feeble skin, and it pulls, It tugs, and it screams. It bares its teeth, it etches its name into your soul. It feeds on you, it consumes you, it hurts you. It bleeds in front of you.

It bleeds, yet it does not cower under the weight of its own vulnerability, because it knows you love it. You lean down, and you cradle it as though it was the most delicate thing on earth. It shrieks in your arms, it continues clawing at you.

You hold it. You are not afraid.

It bleeds, and it makes you bleed with it.

It’s ok.

You'll clean it. You are not afraid.

It was, in its purest form, an ugly thing. Ugly, yet so undeniably beautiful. His heart could only ache, and clench at the thought of such an unconditional love. The idea that someone could see him for him, see Mattheo for Mattheo and not for his father, or for his friends, or for his loud, raucous persona that he put on, or his unhealthy habits.

But how could someone see Mattheo for himself, when he himself didn't know who he was?

He wondered what the rest of his life held for him, often. Sprawled out on his bed, a near-empty bottle of Odgens’ fire whiskey loosely clutched in his hands. His hands are cold; they never warmed.

He always had this feeling in his throat. A sort of suffocating weight, a pain that restricted him. It made it hard to swallow, and even harder to speak.

People would think he'd be out partying. Maybe getting with a girl. With his friends.

It's not that he didn't do that. He did. But it got to a point where the face of one girl blurred into another, he couldn't tell his mornings from evenings. Floating on a high that would sink into an undistinguishable low, one and the same.

He never slept. Whilst they didn't outwardly question it, his friends would jibe and jeer at him, assuming the bags under his eyes were due to his late-night rendezvous with another girl.

Would they look at him differently if they knew it came from nightmares?

He couldn't sleep, because every time he closes his eyes the depths of his mind torment him with images from his past.

His father’s hand comes down, cruel and unforgiving. The bruises mar his skin, but it became the norm. The purples and greens became akin to home more than anything else he had.

In his dreams, his legs do not reach as far as they do now. His calloused hands are smooth once more, and his eyes are wide and honest.

He is young once more, and it does not bring him ease.

He seeks out his mother, he yearns for comfort. She does not give it to him. He is met with the harsh sound of a slap resounding, and his cheek starts hurting. He's confused, and then-

Oh.

Right.

His eyes close, and they open again. He is now looking in the mirror, and he is back to the way he is now. He is standing there, and he cannot tell why he is. He looks the same, yet somehow unrecognisable. Mattheo knows himself well, but right now he feels as though there is a stranger in front of him. That can't be him, he thinks, but he has the same faded scar on his right eyebrow, and his jaw is clenched in the same way. His nose is slightly crooked from when he tried to mend his broken nose at the age of 8.

He meets his eyes in the mirror, and they stare back at him. There isn't that familiar gleam of exhaustion. There isn’t sadness, yet he isn't relieved to see it. He looks in the mirror, and he sees himself. He sees his father reflected in him.

He is watching, and a child approaches him. He is young, as Mattheo was. He barely manages to walk over without stumbling. He looks up at Mattheo - the one in the mirror. Mattheo looks down, but he does not see the kid next to him. He stares back at Mattheo in the mirror, and his reflection is looking down at the child. His stomach starts to hurt. His insides churn, and the reflection raises a hand. The child looks up at him, the same way Mattheo looked up at his mother. The hand comes down, and the harsh sound of a slap resounds throughout the room. The child cries. Mattheo's cheek hurts.

He wakes.

Gasping, sweat clinging to his forehead. His body is freezing, and his mind is reeling. His heart is pounding frantically, and he throws the blanket off him, rubbing a hand over his face as he groans.

He couldn't sleep, He was terrified of trying to do so. His eyes flicker over to the clock on his wall.

2:00 am.

Every time he shuts his eyes, he sees the child looking up at his reflection in the mirror. He sees his reflection raising its hand. In the silence, he hears the sound of the slap, he hears the cries of the child. It mingles with his own, he cannot not tell whose is whose.

He gets up, slipping his hoodie on. His movements are groggy because even if his mind couldn't sleep, his body still needed it.

Then again, one more night of resorting to drinking himself to sleep and he wouldn't be sure if he would wake again. His feet lead him to your room before his mind registers it. He doesn't know why he's standing outside your door, but you were his friend. Perhaps, a closer friend than the rest of them. He knew you'd be up, and he needed to not be alone right now.

Mattheo was a very independent person most of the time, but now was not one of those times.

That terrible, incredibly human need comes back again.

His hand rests on the doorknob, the cool metal still warmer than his own skin. He hesitates, but he pushes the door open.

Your door was always open for him.

As he expected, you were awake. Stretched out on your bed, propped up on a few cushions as you read a book. Your eyes flicker up as you look over at Mattheo, the confusion on your face very quickly fading as you see the state he's in.

You do not say anything, and he is grateful. You put your book to the side. You do not slide over to the side and offer Mattheo a spot next to you like you always do. You instead, continue looking over at him. Instead, you open your arms. You do not say anything, and you beckon him over.

He does not move immediately. He gazes at you for a second and once again, his feet move, and he gravitates towards you before his mind can even compute what he’s doing. The mattress squeaks slightly under your combined weight, as he comes over. He lowers down onto you, his head resting on your chest as he wraps his arms around your midsection. You cradle him as though he was the most delicate thing on earth. His cold skin meets yours, and its intransigence wavers.

He warms, and it is the most beautiful feeling.

He clings to you, as though trying to merge his existence with yours, afraid you'll slip away.

You hold him.

“I'm here,” You whisper.

It doesn't take long after that.

His head is hidden in your chest. Your fingers card through his brown curls.

You hold him.

He weeps.

You hold him.

You do not let go. He cries, and he cries till his throat is dry, and your shirt is soaked. He cries, and not once does your hold on him waver.

You are not disgusted by him. You do not look at him differently. It is amidst those tears that he comes to the realisation that he did not have to search very far. He is not just seeking comfort; he's holding onto the love and acceptance he's always craved. The raw, unfiltered emotion takes him by surprise, and he lets it wash over him. He did not cower under his own vulnerability any more, no, for his vulnerability is both liberating and overwhelming.

His sobs gradually subside, and your hold only loosens slightly when his body no longer shakes with the weight of his emotions. The feeling in his throat is gone.

He doesn't look up at you, but it's okay. You still look at him the same way. Your lips press a tender kiss against his messy hair lightly. His arms wrap around you tighter. You both remain silent. You don’t need to speak the words, because Mattheo knows.

Everything would be okay, if only for tonight.

"The devil is the bad guy because an angel told you the story"

(Phrase of the day today)

I adore Lady Gyokuyou & as much fun as I have thinking about how she is the #1 Jinmao shipper, it also makes me incredibly sad. She's so sweet & gentle. In the episode about Lady Fuyou, Gyokuyou mentions to Maomao that she's jealous. This poor girl is barely older than Maomao & she knows she's not going to get a happily ever after like Fuyou. Her "love story" is just politics She is a political pawn. She knows that the Emperor's favor can disappear at a moment's notice. She loves her children, that's obvious. But the whole getting swept off her feet by a man who's madly, passionately, raise an entire army to rescue you in love is not going to be in the cards for her. And she could be so bitter, angry, and jealous that Maomao has that (and seemingly doesn't realize it), but she isn't. She's in both Maomao & Jinshi's corners & just wants them to be happy.