After walking for what felt like hours, he decided to go to the cemetery, knowing that his grave would be there. He didn't know why he wanted to see it. Maybe it was because it was one of the first things he had seen once he had clawed his way through the dirt and darkness. Or maybe it was because it was the proof that he had died. That he had killed himself.

He fucking hates them both. But at the same time, he doesn't. (Honestly, this is just PWP.)

This is where I'm posting the requests I get on Tumblr.

It took him centuries, so many centuries to finally understand, but in the end, it's worth it.

"I'm just saying you're attractive. Either you take the compliment or you don't." Aksel shrugged, taking his first sip of his coffee.

Erik wonders if he could jump over the edge, if Lars would let him and watch as he fell into the waters cold grasp. Or if he would catch him. Save him. He hates himself, for even thinking for a second that Lars would let him die, let him kill himself. But he hates Lars more. For being the reason that he wanted to jump over the edge.

A minute later, he heard the door slam.

He was a man on a mission, and nothing, not even his beloved ducks, were going to get in his way. Magnus Densen was eight years old, and he had a thief to catch.